AN: Hello everybody! and welcome to Chapter 16, sometimes I can't believe I am still so invested in writing this story and love to see where I can take it each week. Just an FYI for this chapter TW; Family confrontation, child abuse (specifically there is a scene where an adult goes to adminster physical punishment, nothing is described graphically as is kept VERY brief but I wanted to forewarn just in case)

-MP-

Chapter Sixteen: Caithness

After many evenings spent in disagreement with his wife or his friends it didn't leave Harry any less determined, there must be a reason why a cabinet full of memories was hidden away. Plus it was a welcome distraction from the same conversations he was having with Minerva, where Harry had to dance around a topic or question as to not confuse her.

His first job was acquiring a pensieve, an uncommon object even within the wizarding world. At first, he considered using the charm that Minerva had taught him to view memories like a projection but he quickly felt that wouldn't be private enough and there were too many memories to go through.

He decided to transfigure his face to disguise himself, and track one down in Diagon Alley and eventually Knockturn Alley. The trouble was even in a disguised form he couldn't bring himself to enter any of the dark artefacts shops such as Borgin and Burkes or Moribund's, instead he focused his attention on the curiosity shop. After a lot of haggling and a hefty exchange of galleons, he was able to persuade the shopkeeper, a dusty looking wizard with threadbare hair and ragged robes to procure the object for him.

Which brings Harry to where he was standing now, in the upstairs room at Grimmauld Place staring at the dark wood cabinet with a heavy feeling in his heart. The younger version of himself would have been fearless in his approach to this, sticking his head in the pensieve and lapping up the information it held greedily. Unafraid of what it might tell him or what the consequence might be.

He didn't have that same level of fearlessness anymore, everything in life came with a thin veil of apprehension even if the world now prospered in a state of peace. All was well… or that is what the papers would report. Except he never quite felt that peace, not really, and it was only Minerva who really understood that feeling.

Harry stared at the cabinet, the room itself had a few layers of dust peeled away by Kreacher who was diligently attempting to clean it up. He had placed the cabinet in the corner of the room with the pensieve to its side, this pensieve looked quite different from the one he used at Hogwarts. The runes were different, and it looked like a rough hobbled clay bowl which held the swirling cloudy liquid.

The substance moved strangely, ebbing and flowing around the bowl somewhere between a gas and a liquid. He took a moment to ponder the memories the bowl had seen before, but when he thought of its origins in Knockturn Alley he quickly pushed those thoughts aside.

He had modified the warding on the cabinet so it recognised his fingerprints, he simply had used his index finger to stroke the centre of the cabinet's double doors and they would spring open to display its contents. Harry stumbled back a step when he looked at the crammed shelves, five shelves filled to capacity with different bottles. The same tall thin ones he had seen before, the emerald green rectangular bottles and the odd bottle of various shapes, sizes and colours hidden in between. Each with a carefully crafted label, some with loopy handwriting or in a sparkling dark green ink.

Harry selected the bottle that had attracted him when he first laid eyes on the cabinet, one of the deep green rectangular bottles that twinkled on the top shelf. Its label simply said 'Summer 1940 Caithness'.

Something about 'Caithness' intrigued him, he was sure he had heard the name before but couldn't place it. Consciously flipping through memories trying to pin down where Caithness was in his head, but to no avail, he took the bottle down from the shelf and pulled the cork out. Gently pouring it into the basin before watching it swirl endlessly in the silvery substance that held it.

He looked briefly around the room and listened carefully, hearing that Kreacher was busy so he wouldn't distract him. Harry focused on the swirling memory, bouncing on the ball of his heels as if to steady himself. The next thing he knew he was drawing a sharp breath in, and then lowering his face into the pensieve.

Harry looked around as the memory solidified around him, revealing to him a windy cliffside and high hills that stretched as far as he could see. The whole area outlined in the curved up and down of greenery, rocks and a smattering of bright purple heather. The sight warmed him slightly, realising it reminded him of Hogwarts and that's when he knew he was in Scotland.

In the distance he could hear children running and laughing, the sound of it making him turn around to reveal a small old stone house. Smoke billowed from the chimney, a female was outside pinning out the washing and around her feet were two children, a boy and a girl. The girl was slightly taller and was laughing away unabashedly as she chased the little boy.

He crept forward to get a closer look at the family, the female in the garden was tall and thin, he examined her carefully before realising the woman very much resembled Minerva. They had the same nose and cheekbones, but what was most striking about this woman was the deep sadness in her eyes.

Meanwhile the children continued to run around excitedly until the girl paused in her joy and plucked a wilting flower from the ground. She held it in both of her hands tightly until its colour came flooding back and with a smile she handed it to the boy she was playing with.

"For you Malc!" She beamed. "Pretty now." The little girl added as she thrusted it in the boy's direction.

The boy smiled back but before he could take it from her the mother had spun around and snatched it away.

"No Minerva!" The woman barked angrily. "You must behave yourself."

The little girl he now knew was Minerva looked hurt, her face fell and lost it's smile completely as she nodded at her mother.

"Sorry mum."

The woman then scooped her up and cuddled her against her chest. "I am sorry little dear but we know Daddy doesn't like it when we do that."

Little Minerva nodded again into her mothers chest before being placed back on the ground, the family then headed inside the house and Harry followed too.

The memory had transformed to the evening and the family was sitting around a large oak table eating their evening meal, the whole family was gathered yet what startled Harry was the stifling silence the group was sitting in. Nobody dared to say a word, instead forcing food into their mouths carefully and quickly in equal measure.

Minerva and her brother Malcolm were sitting opposite each other at the middle of the table, carefully spooning the broth into their mouths. At one end was the mother Harry had seen earlier, and at the head of the table was a very severe looking man. He had broad shoulders, tight thin lips and seemed much taller than his wife. His hair was short ruffled dark blonde, dark brown eyes and a stare which pierced into your soul.

The family continued eating, and the couple would exchange the occasional word but nothing more substantial. Harry looked around the room taking it in, it was lit by candles giving it a homely feel, there were several sideboards adorned with trinkets and photographs. It all looked astonishingly normal, directly contradicting how the family were interacting at the table currently.

Harry heard a fork drop to the floor ringing loudly around the room. He spun around and watched a small Minerva drop down off her chair and pick it up quickly. "I'm sorry Daddy." She declared as she climbed hurriedly back onto her seat.

Her Dad placed his own cutlery down and fixed a ferocious look on his daughter, his facial muscles not moving an inch. Minerva had visibly tensed up as the intensity of his gaze grew. "Minerva." His stern voice spoke.

Young Minerva held onto her cutlery so tightly her knuckles were a stark white, she looked back at her Father trying to force her own fierce expression but there was a giveaway, a tell that she wasn't angry - but scared. Her bottom lip trembled ever so slightly and that was followed by the candles around the room going out all in one fell swoop.

As soon as it happened her mother jumped up, Minerva dropped her cutlery and jumped off her chair. The Dad stamped towards his little girl, yelling so loudly that spittle was being cast off his face repeatedly. "MINERVA"" He roared as he moved closer.

"WE. DO. NOT. DO. THAT!" Every word the towering man forced from between his lips was laden with such distaste, such vitriol it made Harry's stomach do somersaults just listening to it.

Minerva began to weave her way out of the room, letting tears fall down her face as she tried to escape her Father's grasp. "Sorry Daddy! I didn't mean it!"

"I HAVE SAID THIS A THOUSAND TIMES. NO MCGONAGALL WILL BE A FREAK!" He yelled, his face a fierce scarlet in anger.

She then hid behind her mother as Harry watched on helplessly. His heart breaking for the shaking little girl who was clinging to her mother's dress, her brother had run out of the room entirely and her Mother, her one protector in this moment, did nothing but remain silent amidst the whole confrontation with her hand wrapped around her daughter's shoulder.

The Father was now stood in front of Minerva's mother, who limply moved aside, allowing the man to pull Minerva out of the room tightly by her wrist. Harry followed as Minerva repeatedly said he was hurting her, asking the man to let her go, begging with her apologies.

Harry followed the family into the living room. The furious man roughly pushing Minerva over his lap. Gladly lifting his hand in the air to spank her. Harry's heart was racing, he wanted to reach in and pull her away. Desperately wanting to offer the frightened girl some comfort she clearly needed.

Before the man's hand could make contact Minerva screamed loudly, causing some of the ornaments across the mantlepiece to explode upon contact with the sound. Catching her Father off guard and she seized the opportunity to run away and out of the house as fast she could. Minerva's mother followed as did Harry.

They found Minerva a few metres away at the creek near the cottage, her small legs curled to her chest to muffle her sobs.

Her mother sat next to her daughter, she took Minerva's hand into her own and carefully turned her hand examining the red, sore wrists. Bruising was starting to form in blotches across it.

Minerva's mother had green eyes just like her daughter, high cheekbones and mousy brown hair. Her mother looked at her daughter sadly, and waved her hand across Minerva's wrist to heal it whilst she whispered in her ear. "It's okay little bird, this isn't forever."

Her mother pulled her into her lap and cuddled her against her chest, Minerva sobbed even harder. The memory then began to fade around Harry, he reached out wanting to touch Minerva, to make the day sting a little less even though Harry knew that it was just a memory.

The pensieve returned Harry to the room at Grimmauld Place, leaving him with a hollow feeling, a dull aching for what he had just witnessed.. He didn't know much about Minerva's childhood, and he knew now that was with good reason. Even so, he knew better than anybody what it was like to grow up in a home where somebody treated you differently. How cruel it felt to be told you are a freak for something you cannot control.

He stepped back from the pensieve and sat on one of the chairs in the room, he needed to take a moment to collect his thoughts. He loved the Wizarding World more than he could put into words, it gave him freedom, a purpose, a family. However, he couldn't wrap his head around how so many people treated those with magic so differently. Why, even in wizarding families there was terrible prejudice. He thought then of the most important people in his life, Sirius, Remus…. Minerva. All treated terribly for something that wasn't their fault. Echoing painfully in his own childhood also.

He outstretched his legs and sighed heavily, his heart tired and longing. He knew what he desired most now and was to see the faces of his wife and children. That would be his next stop he thought, he would go and see his children before returning to his and Ginny's bed, so he could pull her close and hold onto her as tightly as he needed to make the emptiness he felt ebb away.

-MP-