Minerva Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron, where witches and wizards had congregated to celebrate. They greeted her warmly, and someone bought her a gillywater, but Albus was not there, as she had thought he might be, so she soon left.
She had planned to go back to Hogwarts, but she was feeling depressed, and had no desire to talk to anyone just then, not even Albus. She transformed into her Animagus form again and wandered into the slums of Whitechapel. She saw, with a sort of disgusted fascination, the prostitutes, the drunks, the homeless people, the starving children. She saw threadbare women leading even more threadbare men into dark, shabby buildings, heard their breathless cries, saw several drunks engage in a brawl. She saw murder done in a shadowed corner for the few pence the man was carrying. She saw several street urchins squabbling amongst themselves, fighting over some morsel of rotten food they had found in a trash can.
Minerva backed into the shadows, transformed into a woman again, and conjured up food and blankets. These she gave to the street urchins, who thanked her in awed tones, and stared after her as if looking upon a manifestation of Divine Providence when she walked away.
She stayed in human form now; she Apparated to Hogsmeade and went into the Three Broomsticks for a drink. The moment she walked in the door she was hailed by a tall, remarkably clumsy wizard called Ignatius Izmir who had been a year below her as a student at Hogwarts. He was an enthusiastic fellow, and took delight in knowing things before others did, for it was not something that happened often.
He was not a person Minerva particularly wanted to see at that moment, but nevertheless he descended on her as soon as she walked in the door, bought her a drink, and proceeded to say excitedly, "Have you heard, Minerva?"
"Ignatius, I believe that everyone in the wizarding world has heard of Lord Voldemort's downfall," Minerva said curtly, and everyone around her flinched. Ignatius Izmir recovered himself quickly and charged on.
"That's not what I'm talking about, Minerva," he said, his excitement reaching fever pitch since she evidently did not know. "I'm talking about the mess with Sirius Black – they're saying he's going to go to Azkaban, and I know I hope he does. I – "
Minerva had frozen with her glass halfway to her lips. "What mess with Sirius Black?" she asked slowly, not entirely sure if she wanted to hear the answer.
"Well," began Ignatius Izmir with obvious relish, "He was a spy for You-Know-Who, wasn't he? He showed his true colours as a double agent last night, but then You-Know-Who disappeared after he killed the Potters, and Black had to run for it. But, would you believe it?, that little Peter Pettigrew – he was a friend of the Potters, I've heard – he went after Black. Cornered him in some Muggle alley somewhere, and Black blew up the street with his wand. He killed a dozen Muggles. And Pettigrew, of course. The Ministry had to modify about a hundred Muggles' memories, I expect. They took Black without a fight – he didn't even try to resist them. And you know what he did when they took him away?"
Minerva shook her head, numb with shock. Sirius Black, an agent of Voldemort?
"He laughed."
"Laughed?" Minerva said blankly. That was the last thing she had expected to hear.
"Aye," said Ignatius. "Laughed like a hyena, they say. Must be mad."
Minerva could only gape at him. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Sirius betrayed the Potters. The knowledge seemed to pound in her head. Lily and James were dead because their best friend had betrayed them. It had never quite sunk in before that, because of the Fidelius Charm, Sirius must have given them to Voldemort. She felt physically sick.
"I – I must be going," she said, standing up. "Thank you for the drink, Ignatius." She didn't wait for his response, but walked away, only wanting to get back to Hogwarts.
However, as she neared the door, she saw someone she recognised: Remus Lupin, James' friend. And Sirius'.
He had his head in his hands, and there was a half-full tankard in front of him. Minerva made her way over to him and slid into the booth beside him.
"Remus," she said gently. He raised his head and looked at her with red-rimmed eyes.
"Minerva," he said hoarsely. "How could he – James and Lily – and Harry – "
"Harry will be all right, though," said Minerva bracingly. "He's with his aunt and uncle now – they'll care for him until he is old enough to come to Hogwarts."
Remus shook his head hopelessly. "They're Muggles," he said, as if this would convey everything he wanted to say, and perhaps it did. "Why didn't Dumbledore give him to me?"
Minerva gripped Remus' shoulder. "Dumbledore has his reasons," she said. She just wondered what they were.
"I expect he thought a werewolf couldn't take care of a child properly," Remus said bitterly, taking a drink from his tankard. He did not look up again, but kept his head down and his eyes fixed on the scarred wood of the table. After a moment his shoulders began to shake. He was crying.
"Don't cry, Remus," Minerva said tenderly. "It won't bring them back. What's done is done. Lily and James died to save Harry, and Voldemort is gone now. And Pettigrew died a hero's death."
But Remus would not be comforted. Bitter tears forced themselves out from under his reluctant lids. Minerva stayed with him until he had control of himself again, her presence undemanding and sympathetic. When he had dried his eyes, she asked him what he would do now.
"Leave." His voice was deadened, and that was worse than tears, or even bitterness, in Minerva's estimation.
"Where will you go?"
Remus shrugged. "I don't know yet. Some place where werewolves aren't so shunned as here – if such a place exists."
"I'd like to see you before you go," Minerva said sincerely. Remus nodded disconsolately. Minerva stood up, gripped his shoulder again in passing, and left him to his grief.