Sorry for the delay, I had a wee bit of writers block. Anyway, here it is.

A massive thank you to Ambush99 for her wonderful betaing skills.

Chapter 8

Minerva McGonagall walked slowly through the still and silent grounds of Hogwarts, appreciating the rare calmness of them. She was returning from a two-day conference on the latest developments in Transfiguration. Usually these conferences were a source of new knowledge and catching up with old friends but this time she had been distracted. Her mind kept wandering back to her students, specifically one, Sirius Black. The young, intelligent yet mischevious Gryffindor had recently been setting himself on a different course, a course seemingly of self destruction. Black, along with Potter, were probably the most gifted students she had ever taught. However, with that gift came boredom and arrogance, hence the mischief. Until now she had never placed Black in the category of a troubled student. Beaufort for sure, perhaps Lupin, but not Black. Now she wasn't sure. She was beginning to wonder if he was the most troubled out of all of her Gryffindors, he was just better at concealing it than everyone else. She just wasn't sure of anything happening with him now. Upon reflection, even before he disclosed Lupin's location, nothing made sense. It just didn't sit well with her. So far he had been serving his detentions with Filtch, because, as usual, she had been too busy to set them at the beginning of term. But not tonight. Tonight he was going to serve the detention with her. Then maybe she could pull him off the path of self destruction he had set himself on.

"Filius," she greeted her colleague. "How has it been in the last few days? No one blew up the castle I hope."

Flitwick visibly paled. "Good evening Minerva. How was the conference?"

"It was fine," McGonagall replied, sending a piercing look at her colleague. "But I don't think you came out here to discuss the conference."

"Well," Flitwick said, swallowing slightly, trying to avoid his colleague's piercing look.

"Filius?" McGonagall pushed.

"I think it's best if you come with me," Flitwick said finally.

"What?"

"It will help explain things, or maybe it will not, I don't know," Flitwick said sighing sadly.

McGonagall frowned as she followed her colleague through the empty corridors. "Explain what?" she called after Flitwick.

"This," Flitwick said, as he opened the door to the destroyed classroom.

"Who did this?!" McGonagall exclaimed angrily. "Who did this?! They should be expelled."

"They didn't mean to do it. It wasn't their fault," Flitwick started hesitantly.

"What? Filius, what the hell happened here?"

"They lost control."

"What do you mean they lost control? They bloody destroyed the room!"

"Minerva, they were scared. No, they were terrified and I think they were trying to defend themselves."

McGonagall stepped back and took a breath. "Are you telling me this as the Deputy Head or the Head of Gryffindor?"

"Both," Flitwick said quietly.

She looked around the room and sighed. It had dawned on her he was troubled, and she was now beginning to realise how troubled he was. She had been hoping she could pull him off his self destructive path before he went into the abyss, but he had gone too far this time. "Mr. Black," she sighed. "What have you done?"

"It wasn't his fault, Minerva," Flitwick said quietly, as he looked around the room. "I don't think I have ever seen anyone that scared in my life. He was absolutely terrified, yet at the same time he managed to control the accidental magic enough so none of us were hurt."

McGonagall frowned. "Where is he?" she asked softly.

"He's in the hospital wing." Flitwick watched his friend and colleague look around the room nodding. "He wasn't hurt here. He had been hurt before."

"What?" McGonagall said as she stopped.

"He was," Flitwick paused for a moment. "Minerva, there is no easy way to say this. Sirius was tortured and he's in a very bad way at the moment. Poppy has had to summon healers from St. Mungo's to assist her."

"Oh Merlin," McGonagall said tiredly, as she sank down in a nearby chair. As horrific and as extreme as it was, this made far more sense than Sirius' recent radical behavioural shift. "Do we know who did this to him?"

"Mr. Potter and Mr. Lupin claim it was his parents."

McGonagall frowned and shook her head. She knew the Blacks were renowned for their pureblood ideology and some claimed they were involved in the dark arts, but to torture their own child?! "What did Sirius say?"

"He didn't. He was unconscious when Mr. Lupin and I got to them."

"Got to them? Filius, what are you talking about?"

"Sirius was standing there," Flitwick explained, pointing to the destroyed gargoyle. "Just before it fell, and undoubtedly would have crushed him, Mr. Potter managed to tackle him."

McGonagall felt her breath catch in her throat. "Mr. Potter?"

"He's very upset, but physically he's fine," Flitwick reassured. "The trouble is they got caught in the falling debris and it took about forty-five minutes to get to them. Mr. Potter claimed Sirius' parents had used the Cruciatus curse on him. Poppy's diagnostic spells confirm curses had been performed on him."

"Oh Sirius," McGonagall whispered, resting her head in her hands. "How is he, and don't lie to me."

"We're lucky we got to him when we did. The healers didn't think he would have lasted much more than a few hours."

"I need to see him." She sprang from the chair.

"Of course," Flitwick said, as he jogged to keep up with McGonagall's longer strides.

"How are Mr. Lupin and Mr. Potter?"

"Physically fine, but extremely upset and worried about their friend. I excused them from the rest of the day's classes."

McGonagall nodded again. Sirius, her gifted, strong, brilliant 'black sheep' had been attacked. They had tried to hurt one of her lions, and they were going to pay for that. No one, absolutely no one hurt one of her lions and got away with it. She somehow managed a nod, but all the time she couldn't stop thinking of her Gryffindors and Sirius. It hadn't been his job to say he was in danger or hurt, it had been her job to protect them. She should've realised he was hurt.

If anyone had asked her about the walk from the Charms classroom to the hospital wing she wouldn't have been able to tell them. Concern for one of her young lions heightened with each step. "How is he?" she asked as she entered the hospital wing.

"He's," Madam Pomfrey started, as she took McGonagall to one side.

"No, no he's not…" McGonagall whispered in horror, her hand covering her mouth.

"No Minerva, he's alive but he's very, very ill right now. He had numerous injuries including a very nasty and complicated broken wrist. There's dark magic none of us have ever seen," Madam Pomfrey explained.

"Will, will he make a full recovery?" McGonagall asked hesitantly.

"I'm not sure at the moment. We've been trying to set his wrist, but his body is rejecting and fighting any form of magic there. It looks like his wrist was broken by a very dark and powerful curse. We are going to try and repair it the Muggle way."

"Oh Sirius," McGonagall whispered, dabbing her eyes slightly. "When, when did he get hurt?"

"A few bruises and a cracked rib are from school, the rest range from a few days to a couple of weeks old."

McGonagall's memory flashed back to Dumbledore's office and what she had then thought was a drunk Sirius Black, but now she knew otherwise. The poor boy had been leaning against the desk to support himself, not because he was drunk but because he could barely stand due to the pain he was undoubtedly in. His sorry attempt at essays were because he was attempting to write them with a badly broken wrist. Yet she had been blinded by all of this. She had allowed her opinion to be influenced by Dumbledore and that dimwitted caretaker. And now a child may lose their life due to her inaction.

"Can I see him?"

"Of course, but I have to warn you, he really doesn't look well at all."

McGonagall stifled back a gasp when she saw the figure lying on the bed. The figure who had been so full of life seemed to fade into the stark, white sheets. His hair was lank, and fell limply around his face. He barely seemed to be breathing. He was covered in sweat, but ice cold to the touch at the same time. "Oh Sirius, why didn't you say something? Why didn't I notice something was wrong with you?"

"We are going to start the surgery now."

"I'm staying here," McGonagall said determinedly.

"Professor, I-"

"Will my presence endanger him or hinder you?"

"No, but-"

"Then I am staying," McGonagall replied, taking off her travelling cloak and setting down her bag. She sat down and took Sirius' limp hand. "It's going to be okay, Sirius, you're going to be okay," she finished, as she rested her hand on his head. She winced as the healers moved his swollen, bruised wrist. She wanted to look away when they started to cut into it. She felt sick when they started to pull the muscles and tendons to one side, exposing the shattered bone. "I know it hurts now Sirius, but it will make it better. I promise." She sat there talking to him, gently stroking his hair and hoping. Hoping he still had the strength in him to pull through. Hoping he wasn't so broken he could not recover. Thinking about it, she had seen signs he had been abused but had dismissed them, not wanting to believe people were capable of such atrocities. Yet she had failed him. She was his Head of House, essentially his guardian whilst at school. The school should've been a safe haven for him, but they had abandoned him. She didn't blame Sirius' friends, as after all they were children themselves, but her and the rest of the teaching staff should have realised and helped him.

"Professor?"

McGonagall looked up and blinked several times. "How is he?"

"Well it looks like his body isn't rejecting the muggle procedure, which gives me hope. But I am still concerned. He's malnourished and has numerous injuries he's struggling to get over," the healer explained.

McGonagall nodded slowly, struggling to take in the information. "He's so cold," she commented.

"I can only surmise that it is an effect of the poison he ingested. I'll be testing a sample at St. Mungo's, and Davies has taken a sample of blood to test at the muggle lab. I don't think it's designed to kill, just weaken the victim. But in his current state…"

"You think he's going to die before you can identify the poison?" McGonagall pushed.

"I don't know. He's fighting, I can tell you that."

"Of course he is, he's a Gryffindor," McGonagall shot back. She looked down for a moment, as she tried to pose the next question. "If we had got to him earlier, would he have stood a better chance?"

"Undoubtedly yes, but you cannot blame yourself. Abuse victims can be very talented at hiding it."

"Excuse me?" McGonagall replied, staring at the healer nervously.

"I know who he is. I know who his family are. I first treated him when he was about nine. He had a broken leg, a couple of broken ribs and various cuts. He claimed he had fallen down the stairs. As he hadn't disclosed what was obviously abuse, and with his family, there was nothing I could do. It wouldn't be the last time I treated him, and I know I wasn't the first healer he had seen."

"What can we do?" McGonagall asked hesitantly.

"Get him through this to start with, then we can work out where to go from there. But until he admits what is happening, there is very little we can do. The Blacks are not going to give up their heir lightly."

McGonagall nodded sadly. "If he was from any other family he would be safe, but he isn't. What are you going to do for him now?"

"I'm going to keep him sedated for a couple of days, as I want to give his body a chance to heal. He's a very sick boy, but he has a strong heartbeat. He's fighting with every fibre of his body."

"He's a fighter," McGonagall said nodding. She leant forward, pushing a strand of hair off his face. "You keep fighting, Sirius. We will be here when you wake up, and we will sort everything out. You don't need to be scared anymore."

She walked to one side and leant against the wall, looking at her watch. Eleven at night. In the seven hours that had passed since she had returned, so much had happened. Now Sirius, one of the brightest students she had ever taught, was dying. How had she not seen this coming? She thought of his best friend, James Potter, and how different their lives were. She thought of the Remus/Snape incident and the aftermath. She knew Sirius would need his friends more than he ever had, but would they be there for him?

"Professor?"

McGonagall jumped slightly, as the quiet voice pulled her from her thoughts. "Mr. Potter, what are you doing here?"

"When can I see Sirius?"

"No at the moment, he's not well."

"I know, I was with him. I need to see him. He can't be alone. I promised him I wouldn't leave him."

"Mr. Potter-"

"No, please Professor, I don't care how many detentions you give, I just ask you to postpone them until I know Sirius is okay," James asked quietly, slowly looking up at his Head of House.

"Mr. Potter, come with me."

"Professor?"

"You're not in trouble, I need to speak to you about Sirius."

"He's okay isn't he?" James replied, in a lost, confused voice.

"Do you want a biscuit?"

"What?"

"Mr. Potter, please take a seat."

James sank slowly into the nearby sofa. "Professor what is happening? What's happening to Sirius? I promised him I would help him. I promised him he wouldn't be alone, but he is. He is all alone and he'll be scared. He doesn't like the dark. Please Professor, let me see him."

"I can't, he's too sick for visitors at the moment," McGonagall said sadly.

"What the hell?!" James exclaimed. "I need to see him. Do you think I'm going to have a bloody party in there?! Do you think I'm going to disturb him? No, I just want to be there for him."

"He's sedated at the moment, he won't know you're there."

"Do you know that for sure?! Are you a healer?!"

"No. No, I'm not. Mr. Potter, what did Sirius tell you?" McGonagall said gently.

"You can't let him go back to his family."

"Mr. Potter, I want to help Sirius as much as you do, but I need to know what happened," McGonagall pushed.

"No, that's Sirius' secret. All I'm telling you is, he cannot go back to his family. You should've protected him!" James snapped. "Why aren't you letting me see him? We aren't bloody children!"

"Yes you are," McGonagall retorted.

"And what is Sirius? He's four fucking months older than me. I can't see him because you think I can't handle it, yet he's going through this alone! What the hell!"

"Mr. Potter!"

"Professor, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it," James said quietly, as he looked down. "It's because you think Sirius is going to die and you don't want me to see him die." He watched Professor McGonagall look down and away for a moment. "I know you think I can't handle it, but it would destroy me more if I knew Sirius died alone."

"Mr. Potter."

"Please Professor, I need to help him. He messed up, but I really screwed up. Not now, but before. I knew he hated his family but I..., Merlin there were times, I... When we were on the train, I would playfully punch him and it would hurt him. He would cover it up, but I knew something was wrong. I tried to tell him not to go home but, after what happened with Snape, it all got lost. He was supposed to stay at mine over Christmas, but he didn't and now he might die."

"Mr. Potter, do you blame Sirius for not saying anything?"

"What?! No, of course not."

"Neither do I and I don't blame you either. I know you don't think of yourselves as children, but you are. It was the adults in your lives that failed Sirius. I'll speak to the healers and see what they say. But if they say no, you have to respect that."

James nodded, slowly realising how little control he had over the situation. "Full moon tomorrow," he observed, looking out the window.

"Will Mr. Lupin be-"

"He'll be fine. I'll talk to him before he goes down," James replied, looking away.

McGonagall nodded, realising how much responsibility her young lions took on each day. They were legally children, yet they were taking on issues adults shied away from. "Do you need anything else?"

A time machine, James thought dryly. "No," he said shaking his head. "No, I'm fine. Just let me know when I can see Sirius." Without another word, he slowly walked out of the office, feeling far worse than he did before. Sirius was dying and he had stood by for a week and let him die. How could he ever forgive himself?