Chapter 5: Minerva McGonagall

Minerva pushed open the door to Albus' office and was greeted with the sight of Remus Lupin, Severus Snape and Alastor Moody sitting in armchairs turned towards the headmaster's desk. There was a fourth armchair, empty, waiting for her next to Severus.

They all turned to look at her, and Albus looked up a moment.

"Minerva, here you are! Please, sit. We have much to discuss."

The head of Gryffindor House spared a glance at the other people present as she made her way to her armchair. Even if she hadn't known the subject of this evening's discussion – which she had – she could have guessed its upcoming content by the people invited.

Severus looked angry – but he always did, more or less, and Minerva and the other professors often reminded him that should he go overboard in his favoritism of Slytherin House, they would be forced to intervene and that would undermine his authority. He'd calmed down since his first year of teaching, but they wouldn't pretend he wasn't biased – much more than any other teacher. Horace, himself, tended to favor Slytherin, but never at the expense of the three other Houses. Minerva wasn't quite certain why exactly Albus had offered Severus the job – he was, without doubt, one of the best potion masters in the United Kingdom, but he also had no love for children and very little patience and indulgence – but she guessed it might have something to do with providing him with a safe place after Albus' declaration of Severus' spying during the war.

Minerva wasn't sure she approved of Severus' presence in the castle, but he was here, and finding someone to take a teaching job at Hogwarts was always complicated – the wizarding community wasn't so big as to offer multiples valid options, as evidenced by the wavering quality of their DADA teachers over the years, and the number of classes they had to teach meant almost all teaching contracts included a temporal magic clause that not everyone could get used to easily.

What was certain was that Severus' presence in this reunion was more than warranted.

Then there was Lupin.

Minerva knew, without doubts possible, that Remus Lupin had joined Albus' Order of the Phoenix a few months after graduation – with James Potter, Lily Evans, and Peter Pettigrew. With Sirius Black. Of course he was present – he was the only one left of that generation. Minerva couldn't help but remember, watching him – he looked ill, again, his clothes were threadbare, and he had no friends left to rely on – how the four boys used to be in school. Remus had been the calmest of the group, though that didn't exclude his participation in a number of pranks – he'd often been too sick, too tired, to be as much trouble as the others.

Gryffindor House meant nobility was a prominent part of one's personality, but perhaps it would be better talked about as "integrity", as being consistent in one's beliefs. The unwavering faith in what one person believes to be right, the fact of acting on it without failure. After all, who gets to decide what is worth defending, which cause is noble, and which isn't? The Sorting Hat, Minerva believed, didn't only look for values, but much more for the way someone acted on those.

It meant that sometimes, gryffindor students went too far in their pursuit of what they deemed right. Because they thought they were doing the right thing – and it mattered more than doing it the right way, because the opposition was wrong, anyway.

Minerva had noticed that amongst the people who'd been the most fanatical on the other side of the war, many of them displayed gryffindor tendencies, even when they'd been Sorted in another House at school. Looking at Bellatrix Lestrange was enough of an example; the witch believed in her own superiority, in her right to be above anyone else, and she valued cunning more than many other qualities, but she also feared nothing and was ready to do anything for what she believed in. She was very much a Slytherin... but she could have gone to Gryffindor and fit there too.

Remus Lupin wasn't quite as fearless and certain of his beliefs as many Gryffindors tended to be, and perhaps that was why he'd been less troublesome than his other friends. He still believed in doing what was right, he still did what he had to do regardless of inherent dangers, but he was more cautious in his ways to do it. Should she guess, Minerva would say he might have fit in Ravenclaw, had he not gone to Gryffindor.

Black, on the other hand... James Potter had been the loudest, sure of his right and in his defense of the other students – and, sometimes, in his offense towards those who didn't share his point of view, because he was loyal to his ideals and very much willing to act on them. Peter Pettigrew, Minerva had thought back then, really wanted to do the right thing, to be a good man, but didn't seem to be quite certain how to – he'd been looking for guidance in his friends, she guessed, and hadn't always dared to speak up when he disagreed, because he thought they knew better.

And then there had been Sirius Black.

Black had a lot in common with his cousin Bellatrix, in truth. Their only true difference, as far as core personalities went, probably came from the fact that he lacked any of the ambition his cousin displayed. Where she wanted to be amongst the best and to be recognized as such, his only goal was to be a better person – at least, back when he'd been in school. Not so much for himself, than for others. But both of them were cunning and ruthless, both would do anything for what they believed in – and the only limits they cared about were dictated by their beliefs – and both would court danger with a laugh. They were loyal to a fault.

Black used to be loyal to a fault, at least.

Loyal enough, and convinced of the worth of his belief, to protect any student targeted by others – and to target those others – but in a much more discreet manner than Potter used to. And probably, in ways less expected of a teenager – but the point was, few were the times the teachers had been aware of what Sirius Black had truly been up to. They had suspicions, but no certitude, no proof, most of the time, because he knew how to toe the line, how to haunt his adversaries without going too far, without getting caught.

Most of the time, Sirius Black got away with much more than Minerva herself probably could tell you about. He was very much a Gryffindor, but he could have gone to Slytherin like the rest of his family and fit in – whether he'd have been happy there was another question.

Not that Black had been overly happy, even in Gryffindor. Of course he'd laughed and played and made friends, of course he'd been happy at some points, but overall, he'd remained angry and cold, careful in his interactions, much more so than the majority of Minerva's students.

She wasn't sure of what had changed, in the end.

How they'd ended up here, today. Lupin alone, and Black on the run. The others, dead.

But they weren't the only casualties the war had brought. They weren't the only betrayal, the only change of heart. Others had betrayed, others had broken, others had changed their beliefs.

Sirius Black might have been the most spectacular, but he wasn't the only one.

So even if it sounded impossible – even if it wasn't the teenager Minerva had known – she held little doubts as to the truth of his actions. She knew the facts, she had examples of other betrayals, she'd been damaged, just like everyone else – and there was one thing the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had taught her: not everything made sense, when everyone walked on a tightrope. Paranoia and despair made everything different, the world was a dimmer place – it damaged people.

She'd kept a list, back then. A list of former students, all of them dead in the war – fighters, casualties, murderers, victims, defenders. It didn't quite matter, at that point, which one they had been. Minerva had taught them, and now they were dead.

Considering only two percents of the country's wizarding population did their schooling out of Hogwarts, and Minerva had started teaching in 1956, it had been a long list.

Her eyes finally fell on Moody – the auror was retired, today, but he would probably remain an auror forever, in everyone's mind, in his own, too. He'd been part of the Order, like Lupin and Black.

He'd had Black under his care for one year, during auror training.

And despite his general paranoia, he'd missed the signs. Of course he was here, today.

Minerva sat down, and looked back at Albus.

The old wizard looked tired.

"What about the child, Minerva?"

The transfiguration teacher guessed they couldn't quite speak of "Mr Black", here. Not when both their subjects of conversation held the name.

"Poppy says..."

Burns, ecchymoses, small scars. Nothing big, nothing that was or had been a danger to Altair Black's life, but so many. His left arm was littered with nails scars, and it was obvious Esta Goldhorn had taken to holding tight onto her son's wrist. Nothing visible on bare skin, but all of it hidden under his clothes. The boy tensed up whenever someone tried to touch him – not much, not obviously, but he did, and it was visible if you were searching for it.

Minerva had just left Poppy Pomfrey and Pomona Sprout, after the latest reunion about Altair Black's future. The only family he had left, aside from his father, were Andromeda Tonks and Narcissa Malfoy. First cousins once removed. Lupin would have offered, too, but they all knew the Ministry barely let werewolves raise their own children, they would never let one adopt a child. Minerva, as Deputy Headmistress, and Pomona, as Head of Hufflepuff House and the adult the boy saw most often, had just met with both women – who'd barely not pretended they didn't know each other – and a Ministry employee about Altair. Mrs Malfoy has seemed cautiously willing to take the boy in, but she'd withdrawn as soon as Mrs Tonks had agreed to take him in. Minerva would guess she'd been quite certain of her husband's stance on the matter, and was relieved not to have to fight Mr Malfoy about Altair.

They'd gone over – once again – Altair's health with both witches, and Minerva was sure she'd seen Andromeda Tonks put a hand on her sister's trembling ones under the table. Neither would admit it, of course, and they hadn't spoken more cordially to each other for all that.

"Mrs Goldhorn most likely started abusing her son sometime after Walburga Black's death. Poppy says she hasn't seen... that... in years."

Minerva didn't glance towards Severus, didn't say more on the matter. Poppy kept her own counsel whenever children came back from home with dubious injuries, but she also made sure to tell the professors to be careful with some students, especially so when it seemed a recurring issue. When Severus Snape had come back for his third year with traces of a broken nose inexpertly healed with a spell, the matron hadn't needed to tell anyone to look out for the boy – not that said boy had ever let anyone look out for him.

There were others, of course, in the years in between, but none quite as obvious – and wizards didn't always leave traces. Minor dark magic wasn't grave in that it didn't leave permanent marks – but used on children who couldn't defend themselves, it was still cruelty.

The effects of a spell were easier to notice – hard to miss a child couching up lizards – but the effects of physical abuse left proof. Esta Goldhorn had been both more discreet and more reckless than a lot of other abusers in their world, in that Altair didn't usually have an opportunity to reveal anything to other adults, but she'd assumed he'd keep the secret even far away from her.

"He won't look anyone in the eyes."

Except for that first day, when he'd decided to tell it all.

Since then, the boy had evaded everyone's gaze. He'd look just a bit to the left, whenever someone talked to him.

It reminded her of another boy, one who would never look away, who never wavered, and stared you down when you talked to him. No matter if you were congratulating him on his work, or scolding him for his extracurricular activities.

Severus almost spat at the words.

"He certainly doesn't remind anyone of either his mother or his father."

Esta Goldhorn had been in Slytherin with him, Minerva remembered. Same year, not the same circles. And there was no point in reminding anyone of Black and Severus' antagonistic relationship.

Lupin shook his head, but didn't comment. Minerva wasn't sure what he'd want to say, anyway. For all that the rivalry between his friends and Severus had been two-sided, and the offenses shared, she doubted the man would want to defend Sirius Black in any way just to contradict his school-years enemy.

Not after what Black had done.

Instead, he chose to focus on Black's son.

"Did he say anything, on the matter?"

Minerva felt her hands tense, as she remembered the words Pomona had used to describe what the boy had told her, that first week of school.

"Oh, he certainly knows who his father is."

She took a deep breath.

"Apparently his m... Esta Goldhorn kept telling him he was a waste of space, like his blood traitor father. She seems to have raised him in the typical Black fashion, blood purity and prejudices, except he was supposed to know that, not because it was right but because it was the way to move up in the world, for her to be able to use his connections. A lot more physical abuse, too."

Minerva almost missed the way Lupin pursed his lips at her words, and she was left to wonder – once again – about her suspicions as to Sirius Black's home life. The reasons why he'd left in the summer between sixth and seventh years. Why the DMJ hadn't sent him back to his parents.

The fact that minor dark magic didn't leave visible marks – that a lot of spells which weren't per se dark could still be used with cruelty.

Moody growled under his breath.

"It's a wonder she wasn't praising Black for his final choices, then."

Minerva didn't know what to say to that – but Black had burned a lot of bridges in his earlier rebellion, and perhaps what Goldhorn had meant was that his connections outside of blood had been wasted. That she couldn't use those, in the end, because Sirius Black had spent years denigrating everything he'd eventually gone back to.

Severus scoffed.

"Well, just another proof that Black was hiding his game all along, if his girlfriend was just as twisted as him."

There was no point in arguing on the matter with the potion professor, and Minerva knew it. If there was one thing Severus Snape hadn't moved on from, it was his hatred for Sirius Black and James Potter – and you could call it legitimate, but then you'd have to admit that their treatment of him was mostly just as valid, considering the things he'd himself done during those years.

An uncomfortable silence fell upon the headmaster's office. They were sliding into the second topic of this reunion – the true reason for their presence, because neither Lupin nor Moody was a professor and there was only one reason they were here with Albus, Severus, and Minerva.

Sirius Black.

Lupin was the one to break the silence, quiet words on his lips.

"He did kill her, didn't he, Alastor?"

A grunt.

"Officially, there's no proof. But yeah, he definitely did it."

Minerva felt her throat constrict, but none of this was surprising. It wouldn't be, even if Sirius Black hadn't been charged with thirteen homicides and betrayal to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – then again, he'd have been in his son's life, then, and nothing quite like what had happened to Altair Black could have gone on long enough without him utterly destroying Esta Goldhorn before it got that far.

"Well. She did abuse their son for years. Enough for it to become obvious the moment Altair Black set foot at Hogwarts. A lot of parents wouldn't take kindly to that, and Black already proved how... how ruthless he can be."

Once again, she didn't look at Severus. Black had proved how far he would go for the people he cared about years before he'd betrayed them all. She remembered the conversation which had followed very well – the absolute certitude in his eyes, the plan he had put together and hadn't revealed to his friends, the risks it had borne. The fact that it had worked. The price he'd paid.

She'd also noticed something he hadn't, and Albus had told her not to tell him, because it might lead to further conflict between Sirius Black and Severus Snape. Because he'd already handled the situation, and this was the best compromise they could hope for.

Because Black still needed to think about what he had done.

Albus sighed, and pushed his glasses back up his nose.

"We can assume that's what prompted him to escape, too. However he did it... He could probably have done it before, but he did it when Esta Goldhorn was brought to Azkaban for abusing their child. For all that he wanted to get away from his family, once upon a time, I remember him being particularly vicious with anyone who touched his younger brother."

Severus sneered, and leaned back into his armchair.

"How he pretended to want out, you mean."

Again, Minerva refrained from saying anything.

Lupin, however, stood up and bumped into Albus' desk without meaning to. Everyone looked at him, but he turned around – they could only see his back.

He wasn't looking at any of them, but they could all see how tense he was.

"That doesn't matter."

Moody cocked his head to the left, as if interested in whatever was going on in Lupin's mind. As if he could sense a potential lead there, something to work on. His magical eye was fixed on the man.

Lupin spoke up again.

"What... What I want to know, is what Si... Black is going to do. He broke out of Azkaban, now what? Why did he go and terrify Mrs Pettigrew, why did he st... Why did he steal Peter's finger, and if he really got out because of Esta Goldhorn and Altair, what is his end goal? Is he going to... to resume his activities, or is he going to come and abduct his son, maybe Harry too while he's at it?"

Good question. Did Black have a goal in mind, a plan, or had he just broken out and then...

Peter Pettigrew's finger. The thought made her ill. The only thing left of that boy – the only thing recognizable, at least, because the destroyed street where Black had killed Pettigrew and twelve muggles had been a butchery, and at least three of the corpses found there had been partly reduced to minced meat – the only piece left of the friend he'd personally murdered, and Black had gone and gotten it back from Enid Pettigrew.

Was it only for cruelty?

Minerva remembered the witch well enough. She'd been the DADA teacher in the school year of 1981-1982. She'd been kind, and no one had been surprised when she'd announced she wouldn't be coming back for a second year. It was a wonder she'd remained the whole year already, when her son had been killed two months after the start of the school year.

Two days prior, Moody had informed Albus by letter that Mrs Pettigrew had contacted the Auror Office while under a tongue-tying curse. They'd found out that Black had come to her home, forced his way through the wards, talked about duties and screamed at her to get her son's – his victim's – death box, in which the Pettigrews had kept Peter's finger after his death.

Moody grunted, his magical eye going for a spin.

"Both, perhaps. He did talk about a duty. Albus, you think Voldemort is still alive, don't you?"

All eyes went the headmaster – except Severus', who flinched at the name of his former master.

Minerva could recall several conversations, over the years, in which Albus had explained why he doubted the dark wizard to be really dead. And then, last year...

"I know so. After all, Harry did confront someone last June, and it wasn't only Quirinus Quirrell. In fact, I saw him myself before he fled... Or, whatever is left of him. A wandering soul, perhaps, but not a dead one. I'm not quite certain of what keeps him amongst the living, but..."

Lupin sat back down, and let his head fall in his hands. Minerva barely caught a glimpse of his face – but the man seemed in agony for that moment, and she couldn't blame him.

If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was still alive – if none of this was quite finished – it meant Lupin's losses weren't yet done with. Everyone knew someone who had been lost during the war – and Lupin more so than many.

"Voldemort is still alive..."

Albus had his eyes on the werewolf, and his voice was kind – if a voice could be kind while confirming such a disastrous statement.

"Indeed."

Moody cast a hard look with his real eye at the potion master next to him – he'd reacted at the name, again, and they all knew why – while the other turned around and fell back on Albus.

"He might be aiming to find his master. Bring him the Boy-Who-Lived as a renewed proof of his loyalty. Raise his son like a proper heir to the House of Black should be raised."

Sirius Black remained, despite everything, Lord of a Noble and Most Ancient House. His grandfather had never properly disinherited him – maybe for the lack of another heir in the main line, Orion and Regulus Black having died in 1979, and for the existence of Altair, who assured a continuity in blood. The second branch of the family wasn't helping either, considering all were married daughters – a witch could keep the name going, but she had to make that choice before marriage, or the familial magicks would put her husband's line first in their offsprings.

Noble inheritance was a mess Minerva had never been much interested in, but she knew how family magic worked, because those weren't only a matter of nobility. Any bloodline with a particular inherited gift had to know about that, and therefore it was a matter of interest to a teacher who taught most of the next generations of the country.

Of course, it didn't do Black much good, being a lord while on the run, but it did mean he had a certain standing with some of the less savory representants of nobility – those who didn't care for the law and the legal standing of the people they dealt with. And, more importantly, it meant his son would have access to it all, as first heir to the House of Black who, himself, wasn't on the run. Through Altair, Black might get his familial influence back.

Lupin's voice took her back to the subject at hand – understanding Black's intentions through the knowledge they did have of his actions.

"Still. Why the f... the finger?"

The twice-damned finger. The proof of all of Black's betrayals.

"He... could be collecting trophies. A part of one of his victims..."

Minerva was a teacher.

It meant she sometimes had knowledge she'd rather not know, but still had to. You could not teach safety without knowing the dangers hidden amongst existing practices.

"It has some powers, in certain magicks."

No one said anything, but Minerva knew they had some idea of what she was talking about. Severus, maybe from personal experience, and Moody, from personal... acquaintance... with the results of such magicks.

Necromancy came to mind.

Bone magic, as it was, was about sixty percents Dark Arts – the part known as necromancy – and thirty-five percents healing magic. There was a noble House whose familial gift was bone magic, but others could use it too – they just didn't have a familial penchant for it.

Though, the Blacks' family magic was a peculiar relationship with the Dark Arts, so there was no telling what Black could do with a bone of his victim.

Lupin hissed an answer to her hypothesis. His voice sounded truly shaken.

"Sirius might... Sirius might be insane, and a traitor, and a murderer, but that's sick. He never did 'sick'. Even... Even when he was at his most cruel, he didn't do that."

Minerva cautiously put a hand on the werewolf's shoulder.

"That's who you thought he was, Mr Lupin. Not who he became."

The younger wizard gritted his teeth, and she could see a stubborn edge appear along his lower jaw.

"I still say we're missing something."

Of course they were. They didn't know how Black had escaped Azkaban, and they only had theories as to what he wanted. They were missing a lot of things – but unfortunately, it didn't seem likely to be in the way Lupin was implying.

They had no real idea of how far Black might be willing to go – they'd known that when he'd been on their side, and the line had been worrying even then, but he wasn't on their side anymore, and the side he'd eventually chosen...

The things they'd done on that side...

Minerva heard Albus sigh, and looked at him. The old wizard was getting up, probably preparing himself to let them out. A look at Lupin told her he'd noticed the same of Moody, and she saw him...

She saw him hesitate. Look at her. Make his mind.

"There's... There's something I never told anyone. About Sirius. And... and James, and Peter."