The Hogwarts Murders – Vol. 7

McGonagall came to the headmaster's tower as soon as she got the call, not knowing what to expect but suspecting the worst. Voldemort had yet to strike at Hogwarts, but the attack would come in due time, they were all sure of it. Since Harry Potter was no longer a resident at the school there were no guarantees that they were ever safe there again, and the long awaited attack could come at any minute.

And when it did come... it would be with the full force of the Death Eater army that he had gathered for the past three or four years. No-one would be spared; they were all doomed.

Dumbledore was standing by the window, looking out at the dark night with a thoughtful expression on his old, pale face. Something was apparently bothering him, and Minerva wondered if she should be reassuring him or be frightened for him. "Albus? Albus, what has happened?" She took a few steps towards him when he did not answer, first intending to put a hand on his shoulder, but then thinking better of it and stopping short of him. "Are they coming?"

She did not think that she needed to elaborate on who "they" were.

The old headmaster kept looking out of the window, absent-mindedly scratching his beard. Then he lowered his hand and put it in the pocket of his dress robes. "I have taken care of the Weasley boy, Minerva."

His words were so cold and indifferent that they sent chills down McGonagall's spine.

"What are you talking about, Albus? Young Mr. Weasley is in his bed sleeping at the moment - or at least I would hope so considering the time of day," she said with her usual slightly mocking tone.

The headmaster began to scratch his beard again, almost as if he was stroking a pet that he loved. "He knew too much, had to do something before he had any chance to tell the others."

Now the lump in the pit of McGonagall's stomach magically transformed into a heavy pint-sized stone, a cancerous swelling that threatened to drag her down into the bottomless abyss of cold, stark despair. "Albus... what in the world are you talking about? The boy..."

"The boy received a package this morning from our dear Mr. Potter - an object that the Muggles call a 'telephone,' I believe. Potter used this to inform Weasley about the true events of two years ago concerning young Mr. Malfoy's death. Now, we couldn't have that, now could we? I had to do something."

A dagger seemed to pierce Minerva's heart. "Albus... you didn't..."

He turned to face his colleague. His small beedy eyes were blacker than the blackest night sky and perilously cold. "It was all for the sake of the Order, Minerva. Nothing to weep over."

"No... nothing to weep over? Albus, how can you speak of it like that? Didn't you ever think about the boy? About that sweet, innocent boy..."

"It was a necessary sacrifice."

"He might never have told anyone about it!"

"We couldn't be sure of that, now could we, Minerva?" Dumbledore mused, a sickly satisfied smile on his thin lips.

McGonagall felt rage building up inside her, rage that she had not felt since she was a young witch going to Hogwarts herself, and it threatened to break free at any second now. Not aware of her own actions she grabbed a shiny silver letter opener from the desk beside her and stabbed Dumbledore with it hard in the chest. He did not react to it, did not even flinch, and this only made Minerva more outraged: She stabbed him again, and again, and again, and again, and again-

-until there seemed to be nothing left of him to stab but warmish slabs of bloodtainted flesh. And he still had that aggrevating, self-righteous sneer on his face, the bloody bastard. That sneer. That sneer...

They came for her that day. The Ministry. Cornelius Fudge himself showed up for the arrest, bless his soul. The courtesy which he showed her warmed her heart, even though she still felt cold and stiff for what she had done.

"Minerva, you know we have to take you away now," Fudge said in a grave, disheartened voice. "We can't let you teach at this school anymore, not after everything that you have done."

"What I have done? What about the hideous immoral things that he did?" McGonagall yelled, desperately trying to explain why she had acted the way she had done. "He killed that boy... that poor Weasley chap... What will I tell his parents? What will I tell Potter? Both his best friends are dead now, and he himself is on the run because of one bloody accidental murder two years ago..."

Fudge twitched. "What did you say, Minerva? Potter's on the run from a murder? On who?"

McGonagall bit her lip. She should not have said that, now should she? This had been the one secret that Albus and her had agreed to keep in the quiet, and she had broken that holy promise.

Well, in his own befuddling way, so had he.

With a sigh, she decided to tell the Minister the whole story.