The Child of the Seventh Month

17. The Consequences

"Three Gryffindor students broke into the Slytherin common room," Snape said lowly, dangerously, "and administered a Slytherin student with a stolen veritaserum."

Professor McGonagall's eyes looked like they would pop out of her face. She held her hand over her heart, her eyes moving from each child's face to the other as though they suddenly grew three heads each. 

"You did what?" 

Ron's ears were a burning red colour; Neville's face was deadly pale; Hermione looked positively faint; Harry was frozen in silence. All of them glanced between each other, trying to force someone else to explain.

They stood in Professor McGonagall's office, a neat and organized room with a large wooden desk at its center, covered in neatly stacked papers and a silver ink pot. Tall, narrow windows let in slants of silvery moonlight, illuminating the rows of bookshelves that lined the walls. There was a small fire crackling in the hearth, which did little to cut the cold or the tension in the room.

After Snape had caught them outside of the dormitory, he wasted no time in escorting the four of them to Professor McGonagall's office, a triumphantly smug expression on his face. He had asked Crabbe and Goyle to take Malfoy to the hospital wing, which they did after casting hateful looks at Harry and the others.

Now, the four stood in front of Professor McGonnagal, with Snape leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a dark gleam in his eyes. Satisfaction seemed to be radiating from him, and Harry hated him like never before at that moment.

Professor McGonagall was dressed in her tartan nightgown, her hair tied back in a thick plait, her glasses perched low on her nose. Her stern demeanor broke through her shock, and she leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Well?" she demanded. "One of you, explain this at once."

"We t-thought," Ron finally murmured, avoiding the professors' eyes, "that Malfoy might be the. . . the heir of Slytherin."

A pin-drop silence followed.

Even the sneer on Snape's face vanished, his features twisting into a look of disbelief instead.

"And you thought that you would carry out your own investigation?" McGonnagal's sharp voice cut through the silence. 

"Hermione is a muggle-born," Ron explained in a small voice. "We were worried that if we didn't act, something awful would happen to her next."

Harry saw the hard line between the professor's brows soften a bit.

"You should have left it to the headmaster, to adults," she said. "What did you expect to do?"

Ron shrugged, looking down.

“Whose idea was it to administer the truth serum to Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry and his friends glanced at each other. He raised his hand. "Mine," he said. 

McGonagall leaned back, letting out a heavy breath, looking like she had aged five years in a few minutes. Hermione, who had been uncharacteristically silent throughout the entire ordeal, shook her head, her cheeks still very red. “Professor… it's true Harry gave the idea, but it was me who actually stole the veritaserum. And... and the rest... I'm really to blame, not Harry..."

McGonagall's frown deepened. "Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense.”

Hermione lowered her head. 

The professor turned towards Neville, who seemed to be shrinking under her stare. "Longbottom, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"N-No, professor."