Disclaimer: applies to entire story: Harry Potter and all the bells and whistles that go along with it belong to JKR and WB. I only claim the plot to the prequel to this (A Tabby and Her Kit) but almost the entire plot to this one belongs to JKR too.
AN: heyhey all! Be happy and rejoice!!! I have bullied ITALICS and BOLD into submission!!! =) anyway. This is the sequel to A Tabby and Her Kit, but it's not completely necessary that you read it first, because I'm giving you the story in a nutshell right here: Minerva McGonagall takes Harry from the Dursleys and brings him to live with her as her son. ta-dah! But if you'd like some more background, please go read A Tabby and Her Kit - I've heard it's pretty good. =9 AND it's completely reformatted (there are ACTUAL italics in it now =9)
So we're jumping right into the good stuff in PoA, mostly because I just don't feel like having certain people bug me to "FREE SIRIUS" for the first six chapters ::giggle:: just kidding. =) We'll be flashing back to books 1 and 2 in intervals (mostly because I really like the short sequences I wrote =9) and continuing up to graduation I think. And that's about it. So enjoy!!!
The Rising of a Lion
Breaking at Dawn
.
A loud, tone-deaf rendition of "Happy Birthday" jolted Harry Potter into wakefulness. Squinting painfully towards the window, he groaned seeing the faint lightening of the dark night sky on the horizon heralding the early beginnings of dawn. As the door to his room burst open, he buried his head in his pillow and refused to look up.
"You have got to be kidding," he mumbled as his aunt bounced to the side of his bed and ended her serenade with a wince-worthy flourish to an otherwise harmless song.
"… Happy Birthday to yooooooooouuuu!" she finally finished.
A few moments of silence passed and the young man remained motionless on the bed. With a gleam in her eye to rival the devil himself, Amanda Hooch took a deep breath and,
"How old are you now? How old are you n-"
"Alright!" the small teenager yelled, hurling his pillow at the offensive creature. "I'm awake – I'm up – I'm thirteen – and I'm just filled with joy about it!"
Grinning at him innocently, she pinched his nose, "That's the spirit, laddie."
She pretended not to hear him as he grumbled about lunatics and fixing the floo connection and made her way across the hall to his mother's room. A loud yelp of surprised escaped her as she reached for the doorknob and she snatched her hand back as if burned.
"She figured you'd be along," he commented dryly, emerging from his room with a slightly more awake demeanor. "Wait here, I'll only be a minute."
Softly opening the cream-colored door, he slipped inside and closed it behind him. 'Sprawled' would not be a term normally associated with Minerva McGonagall, but sprawled she was, across the bed with her stomach pinned down beneath the head of a black and white spaniel. The dog cracked one eye open and perked up her ears as the boy entered, and tiredly wagged her tail in recognition. Grinning, Harry edged over to the side of the bed and scratched Switch behind her left ear. He'd swear the dog was half cat the way she purred in contentment.
"Mum?" he questioned softly, trying to be as considerate as possible.
"Came early did she?" was the sleep-slurred response.
With a wry grin he nodded, "Yeah, so we'll be back later. Are we still having supper at the Burrow?"
"Yes. Don't be too late," she ordered, the stern command undermined by the sleepy yawn that followed.
"Yes, Mum," he agreed with a grin. Placing a dutiful peck on her cheek, he left the room, only just remembering his aunt on the other side of the door as he ducked the sneaky hex she flung at him. "Leave off, mad one," he taunted, and raced down the stairs before she could properly retort.
A few minutes later they were properly gone – off to a Cannons match with Ron Weasley and recently retired Marcus Kettleburn. Minerva sighed into the silence, relishing in the peace of very early morning. She was just drifting back to sleep when her dogs set up a racket downstairs and a masculine voice called, "Minerva, I need to speak with you."
Chuckling as she heard Albus fend off and protest the welcoming slobbers from her dogs, she quickly pulled her hair into a messy ball at the nape of her neck and threw a light robe over her nightgown.
"Yes, what is it?" she asked as she stepped off the bottom step.
Taking in her rumpled appearance, he grinned for the first time that morning. "Well for starters, good morning," he said, pulling her into a tender hug. "But I'm afraid I bring some very disturbing news."
"Disturbing?" she questioned, pulling away to fix him with her trademark stern gaze.
Wordlessly, he placed a short memo in her hands. The letterhead of the Ministry of Magic caught her attention immediately. "Albus, what-?"
"Read it," he told her seriously, no hint of his twinkle in his eye.
Frowning at his impertinence, she fished for her glasses in the pocket of her robe, placed them on her head and began to read.
"'The Ministry of Magic is to issue the following statement at 6 o'clock this morning, the 31st of July: At approximately 10 pm, Greenwich Time, Sirius Aurelius Black escaped from Azkaban prison'," her voice tapered off in shock as she digested the information. Trying to drown out the uproar in her mind, she read the rest of the statement in a rush, "'Black was convicted of the murder of thirteen people twelve years ago following the fall of You-Know-Who. Black is unstable and extremely dangerous. The magical community is asked to report any sightings of Black directly to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic in London.' Albus," she looked at him helplessly.
"There's more, Minerva."
"More?"
"Cornelius Fudge claims the guards at Azkaban have heard him saying the same thing over and over in his sleep for the past few days. 'He's at Hogwarts.'" In the same grave voice, he met her concerned eyes, "We think he's coming for Harry."
She gave a disbelieving laugh, "Albus, that's ridiculous." Seeing his face remain the same, she pressed on, "What could he possibly want with Harry? Why come after him?"
"Why wouldn't he?" Albus countered grimly, "Harry brought down his true master. And it's no use denying that possibility, we all know he betrayed them and he killed those people in cold blood."
He shook his head sadly as her face took on an unhealthy pallor and gently placed his hands on her shoulders.
"I have to go to Harry," she stated suddenly. Pulling away from her companion, she rushed up the stairs.
"Minerva, be reasonable," he said, following her up the stairs, "He'll be fine. Black can't make the journey from Azkaban to here in less than a day. Besides, the entire Ministry is out looking for him. They'll catch him soon enough."
"He'll be fine?" she snapped, glared at him, "That is what you have been saying since the day he began school, and it hasn't exactly been fine, now has it?"
As soon as the words left her mouth she regretted them and sank down onto the edge of her bed. "Albus, I'm sorry," she apologized softly, bringing a trembling hand to her temple, "I didn't mean that."
"I know," he replied, sitting down beside her and taking her hand in his, "It is beginning. It has already begun. He's come out of hiding and now he is calling all his supporters to him." Squeezing her hand gently, he resolutely vowed, "I will never let anything happen to our boy."
Biting the inside of her lip, she tried to concentrate on nothing at all, but images of the night she thought she lost her son overwhelmed her mind.
"Professor McGonagall! Professor!" A young voice yelled frantically. In one fluid motion, the willowy witch rose from her desk and hurried towards the doorway.
"Miss Granger, what is the meaning of this?" she demanded as she swept out of her classroom, nearly colliding with the bushy-haired first year.
"Professor," she gasped, "Come quick!" And with that, she took off running back in the direction she had come.
"Miss Granger, what is it?" she repeated sternly, easily catching up to the girl with long strides.
"It's Ron," she panted, her headlong sprint waning as her steps became slower, "He's almost passed out, I don't know what to do."
"Where?" Minerva demanded tersely.
"Third floor," gasping for breath and clutching a stitch in her side, the girl stopped completely, "Third floor corridor."
The older woman blanched and stared at the girl, "What?!" she demanded in a hoarse voice, praying she heard wrong. As the girl met her gaze with tearful, guilty eyes, she snapped, "Get Dumbledore," and took off at top speed. Barreling around corners, and up stairs, she finally reached her destination.
A young boy with flaming red hair leaned against the wall of the corridor, the gash on his forehead oozed blood even as it began to clot. Looking up as the woman came rushing towards him, he held up a hand weakly and she could see it trembling with the effort.
"Sit down, Mr. Weasley," she ordered crisply, fishing in her pockets for a handkerchief.
"I'm sorry, Aunt McGonagall," he muttered dazedly as he sank down against the wall, "We had to stop You-Know-Who."
Shaking her head, she held the handkerchief to his forehead. Rapid footsteps approached as Hermione caught up.
"I told you to get the headmaster, Miss Granger," she said sternly, trying to take into account the girl's tear streaked face and panicked expression.
"We already have," she said softly, "He went to Harry."
"Harry?" Minerva repeated, her already beleaguered mind piecing together the aggravating puzzle the children had created. The dust on their clothes smelled of marble, and the burnt-green rope-like stains on their clothes could only come from a plant - a rather violent one at that. "No," she whispered, snapping her head around to stare into the darkness of the third floor corridor.
All of a sudden, her senses prickled. Something fast approached them out of the gloom.
"Down!" she yelled, dragging Hermione to the floor as she pushed Ron down. A terrible 'something' roared over her as she clutched her students to her and shielded them from the non-being rushing through the hall. It was over in an instant, but as she struggled to sit up, she realized she was trembling. Ron groaned and clutched the white cloth to his head as he rolled onto his back and rested, but Hermione. . . Her eyes were wide and fearful and her mouth parted in shock as she stared after the very essence of hatred and darkness.
"Miss Granger," she spoke softly, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. The girl refused to meet her eyes, but didn't hesitate to bury her small face in the folds of her professor's robes as Minerva reached out to her in an effort to calm her.
Minutes later, the headmaster emerged from the darkness with a small, black haired bundle in his arms. Quickly disentangling herself from the young girl limp in her arms, Minerva shifted over to where Albus placed his boy gently on the ground. She saw him send a silver messenger to Poppy out of the corner of her eye, but she paid it no heed. Taking her baby's head in her lap, she tried not to cry, but couldn't help her eyes from watering up.
"Give him a few days, Minerva," Albus told her gently as he eased himself down beside her, "He's a strong boy. He'll be fine."
"They'll be informing the muggles then, I presume?" she questioned sharply, shaking the clinging fear of that day out of her head.
"You may presume too much, my dear," Albus frowned.
"That man is a bloody imbecile. If they don't alert the muggles, Black could very well disappear into their number," she reasoned crossly.
"I should go back. Cornelius is not the most detail-oriented of men."
A derogatory snort was his answer.
A few moments passed.
"Should we tell Harry?"
"I think it's better if he hears it from you rather than someone else."
"What about…?"
"I don't know, Minerva. I honestly don't know if he is ready for it."
Another brief silence.
"I should be getting back."
Nodding, she rose and he followed her up, trying to ignore the four pointed glares coming from the doorway.
"Shoo," she ordered, "Go on, I'll feed you in a moment." And three loyal canines departed, but not after shooting warning growls over their shoulders. Tate the bloodhound, however, stubbornly sat directly in the center of her doorway, refusing to move. The sight of the over protective bloodhound had them chuckling as they kissed, and the flat out growl had Minerva in giggles.
"I love you, Albus," she whispered into his neck as they embraced.
"And I you, Minerva," he replied. "I'll see you at the Burrow then?"
She nodded again, "Six o'clock – don't be late." And after a swift parting kiss, he left, edging past the obstinate bloodhound who watched him with a careful air. Smiling, she knelt before her dog and pressed her forehead to his as she scratched behind his ears in an effort to placate him. "You're still my man, hey?" she grinned and he licked her cheek in truce.
A little over an hour later, she made her way down to her study where the Daily Prophet had arrived and sedately waited upon her desk.
*
"… The public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hotline has been set up, and any sightings of Black should be reported immediately…"
"And they've been told he has a gun," Kingsly Shakebolt followed up to the muggle news castor's words. Albus tried not to look skeptical as the plan concerning the muggles was laid out and implemented. "It will have to do," the tall auror stated, reading the skepticism on the other man's wizened face, "It really is all we can do in order to keep them informed without putting our entire world at risk."
"As you say, Auror Shacklebolt," Albus relented, "It will have to do."
"And we are summoning more effective guards to Hogwarts," Fudge said firmly.
"Minister, there must be another way," Madame Bones argued, her booming voice nearly hushed as she spoke.
The Wizengamot had gathered in a tucked away conference room at the Ministry of Magic. There were no windows, artificial or otherwise, and in the dim torchlight, one couldn't tell night from day. It was a fairly dismal setting, but then again, they hadn't gathered to discuss a particularly happy subject.
"Hem hem," Dolores Umbridge began in her breathy cough, "I do believe we have been through this. The dementors are the best tool for this job."
"Madame Umbridge, Minister," began another member, "Surely you realize that some of the children will not be able to cope with the constant presence of dementors at the school."
"It is a necessary step that must be taken," Fudge insisted, avoiding Albus' eyes.
"I believe," the headmaster finally began, his quiet seriousness immediately silenced other murmurs, "That dementors are highly dangerous creatures who would turn against those they are supposed to protect if it suited them. However, if the Ministry is absolutely fixated on having them guard the school, those creatures will not, under any circumstances, be allowed within the boundaries of the school."
"But Dumbledore – ," began Fudge.
"That is my decision, Cornelius. I will not waver."
As heads around the table nodded in agreement, the beleaguered minister gave in with a sigh, "So be it, headmaster."
AN: soooo? Good? Bad? Tell me!! =) THANKUMS!!!
