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Chapter 17: Celians
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"Quidditch practice is now officially over!" called Professor McGonagall as she strode across the snow-covered Hogwarts lawn, a look of livid anger inhabiting her face. Her fists were clenched at her sides, and her glasses glinting threateningly in the moonlight.
"Miss Spinnet, I'm ashamed of you! You knew very well that there is a curfew of all students being inside the castle before sunset. It's much later than sunset!" she yelled, now walking across the Quidditch pitch.
Alicia Spinnet turned around in the air and cast a depressing glance at Harry before she made her descent. She quickly jumped off her broom, and took a deep breath before turning to face her professor. Professor McGonagall stopped in front of her and placed her hands on her hips, staring at Alicia, waiting for an explanation.
"I, um, well, we needed the practice," stuttered Alicia, looking up hopefully into Professor McGonagall's face, praying that her aspirations for Gryffindor taking the House Cup again this year would calm her temper.
"This is not a negotiable curfew, Miss Spinnet, whether you're team captain or not. The Quidditch team does not receive exemption from school rules. This is not a safe time for you to be out gallivanting around in the dark, especially without supervision," she continued.
The rest of the team made their descent, toppling off into the grass behind Alicia. Fred and George walked up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulders for moral support. McGonagall's eyes moved towards Harry, who had just landed, and then to Adrienne, who flew by him, flipping the hair on the back of his head. He turned and tried to grab her, glaring; she flew out of the way and landed safely several feet to the right. McGonagall turned back to Alicia.
"Come on, back to the castle," said McGonagall, deciding not to punish them, this time. She turned and headed back to the castle, the image of Adrienne and Harry still in her mind. They had missed out on so much, it just wasn't fair.
"Professor McGonagall?"
McGonagall paused at the top of the stone entrance steps, holding one of the great oak doors open. She turned. The team was filing up the lawn, dejected and annoyed expressions gracing each of their faces. Harry Potter ran up the steps towards her.
"Where's your broomstick, Mr. Potter?" she asked as he neared the top. Harry flung a hand aimlessly behind him.
"Adrienne has it for me." He paused next to her. "I had a question, Professor," he said, following her into the Entrance Hall.
"Yes?" Professor McGonagall walked quickly towards her study, Harry beside her; it seemed that over the years his legs had grown dramatically and she was much easier to keep up with now.
"Well, I was wondering, what position did my dad play?" he asked as they reached her study. She stopped, her wand out, ready to unlock the door. She turned to look at him and offered a weak smile.
"He was a chaser, Harry, and the best I've seen in a long time. You think Adrienne is good? She's nothing compared to him," she said, and turned back towards her door, flicked her wand, and reached for the knob. "Any particular reason, Potter?"
Harry shook his head. "I was just wondering, that's all."
McGonagall opened her door and hesitated, finally stepping back and motioning for Harry to enter her office. Harry looked at her questioningly but followed her unspoken direction.
Professor McGonagall's office was warm and cozy. A flickering fire was lit in the grate. Portraits painted by Muggle painters such as Monet were hung on her walls. Large bookcases graced other parts of the room, old and new books adding to the professional mannerisms of the room that so reflected McGonagall's personality. McGonagall followed Harry into her study and shut the door behind her.
"Take a seat, Mr. Potter," she said, motioning towards a large red chair seated before her oak desk. Harry sat down into the plush chair.
"Do you, by any chance, know what today is, Harry?" she asked quietly as she strode over to a large bookcase behind her desk.
"No, Professor, am I supposed to?" he asked.
Professor McGonagall didn't answer right away. She was running her finger along the spines of the books on one of the shelves. Finally, she found the one she was looking for and pulled it from the multitudes. She pulled out her chair and took a seat, setting the book onto her desk. She looked at him over her glasses.
"This was your parent's anniversary, Harry; how much do you know about your parents?" she asked calmly, opening the book and flipping through pages, obviously looking for something. Harry looked at her curiously and leaned back in his chair.
"Not that much," he replied regretfully, unconsciously clasping his hands together in his lap.
"Sirius hasn't told you very much then?" she asked, a trace of surprise showing on her face. Harry sat bolt in his chair, his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide in surprise. "Are you wondering how I know about Sirius?" she asked, a smug smile appearing at the corners of her mouth.
"Professor Dumbledore explained everything to me over the summer, Potter, everything. And I must say, between what you did your third year and what you did last year, I can safely say your parents would be prouder then they ever dreamed possible." Harry didn't respond. McGonagall stared at him intently, reading the surprised look mingled with a disbelieving one.
"Professor Dumbledore was not the only one close to your parents, Potter," McGonagall continued. "I remember them quite well; actually, I remember them better than any other students I've ever taught. Your mother was my very favorite student, and the brightest, yes, brighter than Miss Granger." Harry smiled slightly, wondering how smart his mother could have been; he didn't think there was an intelligence capability beyond which Hermione possessed.
"Yes, Lily Evans, that was her maiden name, Evans. Oh did she make me laugh," said McGonagall, a sad expression beginning to haunt her face.
"She was a troublemaker, too?" asked Harry, finally finding his tongue. He shook his head disbelievingly.
McGonagall laughed slightly. "Who, Lily? Not at all, but she was the funniest. She was the voice of reason. We always knew when your father, Sirius, Remus, and Peter (she said this last name with a tone full of pure hatred) were about to pull a stunt, because she'd walk around the castle shaking her head and mumbling about how they'd for sure be expelled this time. She took everything so seriously. She was an excellent dueler though, it's quite obvious where you two get that talent," she suddenly quit speaking, realizing what she had just said. Harry looked at her quizzically, his eyebrows raising promptly.
"You two?" he asked slowly, "What does that mean?"
McGonagall's face reddened and she quickly started looking through the book again.
"Oh, I just meant you, Potter, but I was thinking about the dueling team as a whole - you're abilities, from her - they instill a sense of unity in the group, yes, that's it," she said this as if she was trying very hard to think of something to say. Harry didn't respond.
"Yes, she was quite a dueler." She looked up from her book now and smiled. "You have seen pictures, correct?" she asked.
"Hagrid gave me a photo album of their wedding day during my first year," he replied, his mind still having trouble with the fact that she had said 'you two.'
"This was the yearbook from their seventh year, it has their Head Boy and Girl pictures; would you like to see it?" she asked, picking up the book and handing it to Harry. Harry stood up and took it from her. He placed it on his legs and stared at the picture.
His mother and father stared back at him, their Head Boy and Head Girl badges gleaming from the flash. They waved at him. They looked different from the wedding picture; a lot more naïve Harry thought, a lot more innocent. His mother had her hair pulled up in a messy, but fashionable bun on the top of her head, several strands pulled down to frame her face. His father had his arm around her, his characteristic, messy hair standing up all over the place, a huge smile plastered onto his mischievous face. Harry smiled.
"They look wonderful," he said quietly, taking in a deep breath, wishing he could remember them.
"That was right before they left," McGonagall sighed, leaning back in her chair. Harry looked up at her, a question he had been wondering ever since he could remember, pressing to escape.
"What did they do, Professor?" he asked, standing up and placing the open book onto her desk. Professor McGonagall looked down onto the picture and smiled at the two 17 year olds.
"They had very special jobs, Harry," she said, looking up at him. "Voldemort was becoming more and more powerful, and there was a need for a stronger defense against him. The aurors just couldn't keep up. Your parents, along with Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher, and several others became our new defense. They were members of a secret Ministry program, headed by Professor Dumbledore and Mad-Eye Moody. I remember when your parents were asked to join. They had wanted to be Aurors; I think they got more than they bargained for. Your parents, Harry, were Celians, top-level Ministry spies and infiltrators. Your parents caught more Death Eaters during their career than any other, save for after Voldemort's fall," McGonagall added this last part cautiously.
"They were spies?" Harry asked. His mind began racing with this new and amazing thought, 'my parents were spies!'
"They weren't just spies, Harry, they were the best we had, the best we've ever had, and most likely the best we will ever have. They were the best team, inseparable, loyal, and fearless. They were always willing to sacrifice for the good of the cause. No matter what the job, they never backed down, never gave up. They kept that up for five years, and then your mother decided to retire; I think she found her new job more appealing," continued McGonagall.
"Oh was she so happy when she found out she was pregnant; we were one of the firsts to know. She just burst into school one day, after some ambush in a forest, a large smile plastered onto her face. We could tell right away; she just glowed. And your father, he just stood there behind her, half embarrassed, but still thoroughly ready to shout that he was going to be a dad," McGonagall wiped a tear from her eye.
"And then after you were born, she showed you off like you were the Hope Diamond. You were her angel; you were the future she had been fighting for for the last five years, and your mother was determined to protect you, Harry. She was twenty-three and had seen more things than anyone should ever see in their lifetime. She had so many plans, so many things to teach you," McGonagall stopped talking for a moment. It was obvious to Harry that she must have been close to his mother. She took a deep breath and continued. "Your father, he continued working until your first birthday, then he retired too."
"What do you mean retire?" asked Harry. McGonagall laughed.
"Your parents had possibly the most dangerous job in the world; what they made for a living was definitely hazard pay. I assume you've seen your bank account: Your parents made enough in five years to last them a lifetime, Harry. After five years of fighting the Dark Arts, they only wanted to spend the rest of their lives raising a family, and they did that Harry; you had the best family anyone could have asked for."
Harry sat quietly, thinking of what his parent must have gone through. They were at the frontlines of the battle against Voldemort for five years. It was ironic, they survived being spies, but then died in their own home. Harry shook his head, not understanding why McGonagall had told him this. McGonagall seemed to be able to read his mind because as soon as he thought this she began speaking again.
"Your past has many interesting avenues, Harry, and they will keep surfacing until you know all there is to know," she was staring intently at him now, as if she was trying to tell him something beyond her words.
"Do you ever wonder what is on the other side of a mirror?" she asked, rising from her chair and walking towards the window. She looked out over the dark land, wishing Dumbledore hadn't made her promise not to tell Harry and Adrienne they were related. She figured he had his reasons, but she didn't know what they were. She smiled slightly; she didn't have to tell them, she'd just give Harry a clue - all Potter needed was a push in the right direction.
"What's on the other side of a mirror?" asked Harry, slightly confused. "No, Professor, I can honestly say that thought has never crossed my mind."
Professor McGonagall turned to look at him. "Maybe it should, Potter, maybe it should."
* * * * *
When Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room he found it completely empty save for three quiet voices coming from the high backed chairs facing the fireplace. At the sound of the portrait door clicking shut, the three materialized from behind their chairs.
"What took you so long?" asked Adrienne, standing up and walking towards him. "I had Ron put your Firebolt in your dormitory; I'd have done it myself but I figured I might get more than I bargained for, ya know?"
Harry shook his head and smiled. "Thanks, I was talking with Professor McGonagall," he said, making his way over to the fireplace and taking Adrienne's chair. Adrienne made a face and tried to pull him out, but he held his ground.
"Adrienne, I'm not moving; you got up from it," replied Harry.
"Too much effort anyway," she mumbled and slid down into a straddle-split.
"That's disgusting Adrienne, oh yuck, you're not supposed to do that, it's so unnatural," said Hermione, shivering slightly. Adrienne just grinned, reached her hands out in front of her, and walked her torso towards the ground. Ron looked at her, sitting there in the splits, her upper body and head resting on the ground in front of her; he smiled and wondered what other contortions she knew. Adrienne turned her head so she could look at Harry.
"What you talk about with McGonagall?" she asked. Harry made a somewhat disgusted face.
"She told me some interesting things," he replied, bending down slightly and looking and Adrienne, perplexed. "Doesn't that hurt?"
"Nah, it's quite comfortable actually - want to try?" she asked, a mischievous grin engulfing her face. Harry stared at her for a second; he had seen that smile before ... it reminded him of the smile his dad was wearing in the picture.
"Oh come on, Harry," said Adrienne, sitting up and pulling her legs in front of her, "It's good to stretch ... keeps your muscles in good shape."
Harry shook his head slightly. "No, I'm fine Adrienne, really," he raised his eyebrows at Hermione who laughed. She stood up and walked over, sitting down onto his lap and leaning back against him. Harry smiled and reached up to play with her hair, it smelt like roses. He shut his eyes and took in the moment: It was his parents' anniversary, he had just found out more about them, and he had the one person he had ever truly loved sitting in his lap.
* * * * *
'What's on the other side of a mirror?' Harry asked himself as he was brushing his teeth. He stared at his reflection.
"Nothing," he muttered and spit out the toothpaste. He wiped his mouth off and stared back into the mirror.
'Maybe I'm missing something,' he thought.
He climbed up onto the counter, touched the glass with his hands, and started absentmindedly tracing triangles with his fingers, wondering what exactly McGonagall had meant. He sat back onto his heels, being careful not to topple off backwards, and pressed his palms up against the glass. His familiar reflection stared back at him. His green eyes sparkled beneath his glasses. His old scar, the color red, underneath his messy hair.
"The other side of a mirror; why, it's just a reflection," he told himself as he jumped off the counter and made his way towards the bathroom door, which he shut tightly behind him.
* * * * *
The same moon that lit the mirrors also lit the dark sky, illuminating all movement against the snow-covered ground. While the rest of Hogwarts slept, a large shaggy dog slowly slinked across the grounds, heading for a familiar tree. He pressed the knot on the Whomping Willow and entered. Sirius Black walked the rest of the way to the Shrieking Shack as a man.