Disclaimer – Everything you recognise belongs to JKR. All the rest is simply me playing in her sandbox.

-oOoOo-

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

Chapter 11

"Come in," Professor McGonagall called in answer to the knock at her door.

She watched, quill still poised over the homework that she had been marking, to see the door burst open and for Hermione Granger to stomp in pulling a clearly reluctant Harry Potter by the hand.

"Miss Granger, might I ask what this is about?" she frowned pointedly at the girl's hand still clutching Harry's wrist.

"It's about this," Hermione replied, placing two scrolls of parchment on the desk in front of her teacher.

Professor McGonagall swivelled her eyes from the two scrolls, up to the determined, angry look on Hermione's face, across to Harry who looked to be in some kind of combination of terrified and resigned and back to the scrolls once more.

"Kindly close the door and take a seat," she instructed. "And Miss Granger, let Mister Potter go. He's not going to go anywhere."

The pointed look she gave the boy reinforced her order. Once they had complied, she turned her attention to the scrolls.

The instant that she'd opened the first one, she instantly recognised it as being the completed homework due the following day that she'd assigned to her first year Transfiguration class. The tiny, messy writing could only have belonged to Mister Potter and she sighed inwardly as she steeled herself for the usual barely acceptable work that she'd come to expect from the boy.

After the first few lines, her eyes snapped up and pierced the boy with a calculating look. Harry, though, was refusing to meet her eyes, instead seeming to find something on his boots interesting enough to hold his attention.

Returning to the scroll, she sped through it, paused, looked up once more at Harry, and then read through it again, this time much slower. Absently, she picked up her quill and made a small correction to his third answer and then another minor correction to the answer to the final question. Her quill moved once more to mark a large 'O' at the top of the paper.

Suddenly remembering that there were actually two scrolls that Miss Granger had placed on her desk, she picked up the second.

Once again, Harry's messy scrawl was instantly recognisable. This, too, was a copy of the homework due to be handed in in her next lesson. But this homework had yet to be completed. And what had been done, was exactly as she had expected the first scroll to be. Half-thought out answers and incomplete definitions and examples. Barely good enough for a passing grade.

"I take it this," and here she flourished the first, complete parchment, "was your attempt at cheating?"

Surprisingly, it wasn't Harry that answered.

"No, ma'am," Hermione cut in, her bushy hair swaying viciously as she emphatically shook her head. "That's what I thought at first as well. But it's worse than that."

Professor McGonagall sat back studying her two students.

"I think that you'd better explain that statement, Miss Granger."

"Yes, ma'am," she replied and Professor McGonagall knew that this was going to be one of Hermione's famous long-winded and breathless answers, just like she gave in class.

"Harry hasn't been cheating. Well, I say he hasn't been cheating, but really, I guess he has been. Cheating himself, that is. But I only just found out. You see, apparently Harry always does his homework twice. Has been for years. Even back in muggle schools. He does it perfectly the first time, like this," and here she leant forwards to tap the completed homework, "and then he does it again so that it ends up like this," and here she tapped the second scroll.

Professor McGonagall's eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth to speak, but was beaten by Hermione.

"He says that he does it because it's just 'better' to do it that way to make sure that his cousin gets better marks than he does," and here she scowled at her friend. "I think he means that he gets in trouble from his Aunt and Uncle if he does well and even though his cousin isn't here, he's still afraid that he'll get in trouble when he goes home if his marks are better than his cousin's. Even though Harry's here at Hogwarts and his cousin is at a muggle school."

For nearly a minute, Professor McGonagall regarded the young man before her. His head was still down as he refused to look at either her or Hermione. He looked completely defeated, as though he was ready to take his punishment, knowing that there was nothing that he could do to stop it.

Her mind wondered back to that day, years before, that she had spent watching Harry's Aunt and Uncle's house before he was left there. From what she could remember of the angry-looking man and the nosy, horse-faced woman, she found it all too easy to believe Miss Granger's conclusions.

"Is this true, Mister Potter?"

A nod of his messy black head was all the answer he gave.

"And you've been doing this for all of the work that you've done in my class?" she asked.

Another nod.

"Not just in Transfiguration," Hermione said. "I found near-perfect work that Harry'd done for Charms, Potions, Herbology, History of Magic and Astronomy."

"And you believe that by simply getting 'Acceptable' on all of your work is good enough, do you, Mister Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked.

A sharp intake of breath accompanied Hermione's hand slapping across her mouth.

"Harry," she gasped, "it wouldn't work. By only just passing, you'll end up in even more trouble at home."

Harry's head shot up, a questioning look in his eyes.

Hermione turned in her seat to face him. "What marks can you get here at Hogwarts?"

Harry frowned at her as he answered. "Outstanding, Exceeds Expectations, Acceptable, Poor, Dreadful and Troll."

"And if you're getting 'Acceptable' in everything, what will your report card look like?" she asked.

Professor McGonagall watched as the colour instantly disappeared from Harry's face only to slowly reappear a sickly green.

"I think I'm going to be sick," he moaned.

Not understanding what had just happened, Professor McGonagall simply conjured a bucket and thrust it at Harry.

Hermione, she guessed, noticed the look of confusion on her face and turned back to explain. "In the muggle world, students are awarded grades from A to F, with A being the highest mark. If Harry was to return home with a report card full of 'Acceptables' …"

"Which we would only mark as the letter 'A'," Professor McGonagall finished for her, imagining the outcome from the confusion that these particular muggles would have.

"Mister Potter … Harry, what would happen if you were to return home from Hogwarts with a report card that seemed to be better than your cousin's?" she asked as gently as she could.

She watched his eyes widen and dart backwards and forwards. Sweat glistened on his forehead in his agitation and he looked ready to flee. She could only imagine that he'd been 'in trouble' before for telling outsiders what went on in his house.

His response was a simple head shake.

Her heart went out to the boy and she wished that there was something that she could do, but without proof, her hands were tied. This, she decided, was something for her to look into. And something to take up with Albus as soon as possible.

For now, though, she had to deal with a student underperforming, just as Filius had suggested weeks ago.

"Mister Potter, I am going to do three things," she stated, managing to capture his eyes and hold them. "Firstly, as the Deputy Headmistress and your Head of House, I will make sure that any correspondence from this school is directed straight to you. That includes your end of year reports. Your Aunt and Uncle will not be receiving those reports."

A look of immense relief crossed Harry's face and his shoulders slumped as they lost some of the tension that he was carrying.

"Secondly, you will not be receiving any punishment for your past poor performances. Lastly, however, all of your teachers will be informed and I can assure you that they, along with me, will be expecting your written and practical work to greatly improve. An 'Acceptable' mark will no long be considered acceptable," she told him. "Do you understand?"

Harry nodded before once more returning his gaze to his toes.

"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said, turning her gaze to her current best student. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Twenty points to Gryffindor for the care that you've shown your friend. I hope you realise just how great a friend Miss Granger is, Mister Potter."

She waited, smiling inwardly to herself as she saw Harry's head lift and turn with a shy smile to Hermione.

"You're dismissed."

Professor McGonagall waited until they were nearly out of the door before saying the one thing that she'd been thinking since she'd first read Harry's completed homework.

"Oh, and Mister Potter, this is the kind of work of which your mother would have been proud of," she told him, holding up the completed work, the Outstanding mark clearly prominent.

-oOoOo-

"Albus? Do you have a moment?" Professor McGonagall asked as she entered the Headmaster's office.

"Certainly, Minerva, certainly," the aged wizard said as he peered over the top of his half-moon spectacles at her. "Have a seat. Lemon drop?"

Minerva paced across the room to take the proffered seat across from the headmaster's desk, waving away the offer of a sweet.

Albus Dumbledore sat back in his chair and placed his hands on his stomach, eyes twinkling away at her. "What can I do for you?"

"It's about Harry Potter."

At this, the Headmaster leant forward, interest evident in his suddenly clearer eyes. "Indeed?"

Minerva nodded. "I was visited this afternoon by a very concerned Miss Granger, along with Mister Potter. It seems that the work that Mister Potter has been producing in his classes hasn't been what they seem."

A hand wave indicated that she go on.

"I'm not sure how, but Miss Granger discovered that Mister Potter regularly underperforms in all of his classes. In fact he goes so far as to deliberately make sure that he only produces and hands in work which can at best be graded as 'Acceptable'," she relayed.

"Are you certain of this?" Professor Dumbledore asked. "A twelve year old girl can easily be led astray or mistaken."

Minerva smiled thinly at that. "Not this twelve year old. She's the top of my class and from what I've heard from the others, the top of all of her subjects. Filius also noticed something in his class a number of weeks back."

Professor Dumbledore leant back once more and tapped his chin in thought.

"Do you have any idea why Mister Potter is underperforming?"

"I do," Minerva replied, barely restrained contempt in her voice. "From what little Harry said and the way that he acted, I think that it's fair to say that he's been badly treated whenever he's outperformed his cousin. I'd even wager that that's not the only instance that causes him to be mistreated at that muggle home."

Minerva watched him intently as he seemed to study the ceiling for some time. Finally, she couldn't restrain herself any longer.

"Albus, I told you all those years ago what those muggles were like. Are you sure that that's the best place for Harry? There are countless wizarding families that would take him in in an instant. In fact, I myself …"

"Minerva, we've had this conversation many times and my decision has not changed and is not likely to change," Professor Dumbledore stated firmly. "Being at Privet Drive with his Aunt and Uncle, his last remaining relatives, is the very best place for him to be."

"But Albus, surely you've seen how small he is. He doesn't look like he's had a decent meal before coming to Hogwarts for years. Not to mention his demeanour," Professor McGonagall protested.

"Every other staff member has expressed themselves as being well-pleased with the young man," Professor Dumbledore reminded her.

Minerva huffed, thinking of a certain Potions Master. "Not every one. And while the boy's polite and well-mannered, he's incredibly skittish and shies at the barest hint of rebuke."

Professor Dumbledore waved these comments aside.

"Harry may not be quite what we'd have hoped the child of James and Lily Potter to be, but he is still healthy and inquisitive and full of life, as you yourself discovered when you put him on your Quidditch team," he said. "All we need worry ourselves with is his education. I assume that you've seen that his schoolwork will henceforth be up to standard?"

Professor McGonagall nodded.

"Then we are doing our job. If it will make you feel any better, I'll look into his home life myself," he added, obviously in response to the frown that she knew she sported.

With a nod, Minerva rose from her chair. "Thank you, Albus. That would indeed take a weight off of my mind."

She didn't see the frown that crossed the Headmaster's face as she made her way out of the door.