The Potion Princess

McGonagall

Audra had never been a particularly brave person.

She'd given it some thought over the years, wondering where you draw the line between brave and stupid, if maybe they have to go hand in hand. She's watched the twins do things that took bravery and nerves of steel, she'd give them that, but they'd also seemed incredibly idiotic to her- jumping off of cliffs, scaling buildings, taking shots of questionable alcohol. Sometimes, she thinks, there's a point where you just have to turn away from things, even if it makes you a coward.

But, she admits now, raising one white knuckled fist to knock on the door, courage, and power, these are words that I know well.

The door swings open, revealing McGonagall. The professor wasn't often surprised, but it was clear that whoever she had been expecting to see on the other side of this door, it wasn't Audra. "Professor," Audra said, the word coming out in a gasp of relieved breath. She looked into her face, but the open concern on her face was too much, so she studied her hands instead. There was still ink on them, ink that her mother had used to shape those horrible words. "Could I talk to you?"

"Ms. Stanton," She stared down at her over the rim of her glasses. She was an intimidating woman, a terrifying one, and one of the most skilled witches to walk these halls. Audra knew, even if she wanted to run to Molly and beg for help, or demand that Snape give her a way out, or even rage to her parents, Professor McGonagall was one of the only people who could really help her. "What can I do for you?"

Audra sits down in the seat that was offered, and McGonagall settles down on the opposite side of the desk. Part of her wants to turn and run, but the part that kept seeing Fred and George's face, the part that can still feel Clary's shoulder shaking from the force of her sobs, is telling her that she has to do this. "It's true that Voldemort's back."

She does not stumble when she says the name. She does not flinch. Neither does McGonagall.

Professor sighs, rubbing at her forehead as if to ward off a migraine. "It certainly appears so, Ms. Stanton."

"Then I need your help."

There's a startled pause, and just when Audra thought she was going to be told there was no reason to help someone from a family like hers, McGonagall rummaged around in her desk drawer and brought out a tin, which contained what looked like triple chocolate brownies. "Have a sweet, Audra."

Audra did, and then another, and by the third she was talking in a flood of words, trying to impress on McGonagall the unfairness of her situation, the incredibly complicatedness of it all, why it's so important that she must be protected in order to protect the ones she cares about. "You see, don't you? My parents were death eaters. They still are. They were in that grave yard, they tortured Harry, they were going to watch a child die, and even if Voldemort hadn't come back, I wouldn't be able to return home just because of that. Because they would have let one of my friends die in the dark just because they were cowards."

"That doesn't mean you have to join them," Professor McGonagall said. At some point, she had came around the desk and was sitting in the arm chair right beside her, holding tightly onto her hands. Audra thought if she had had less time to prepare herself for this, or if McGonagall's nerves were made of something other than steel, one of them may have started crying.

"But it does. They were death eaters, and they still are. And when He comes to me and tells me to join, I'll have to say yes, or I'll die. And I'm not going to say yes, even if that's the only answer left for me to give." She studies her hands again, like the answers could be found there. When she speaks again, her voice is softer. "I'm not saying this because I'm brave, or particularly heroic. I know it's wrong, but if it was just about me, I would join just to save my own skin. But if I do, that means I stand with the side that's going to want to kill Clary. If I do, I might be expected to hurt one of the Weasley's, and I won't do that." She tosses her hair behind her back and glares, and when she catches sight of herself in the mirror, the thought that she looks like Bellatrix cuts into her like a knife. "No one's going to hurt anyone I love. Certainly not me."

Of course, it wasn't as simple as that, because Emmeline and her brother and her parents are all joining up the first chance they get, and some day she might have to fight against some underclassmen she comforted in the common room, but she can't make there choices for them. "I still don't see what I can do for you."

"I know you're in the Order. I know you're all going to fight again. And I'm telling you now, I'm ready to help, to fight, in any way I can." She could feel the itch in her arms again, the one that comes when she's sure of her own skill, of her own deadly, precise power. It's the feeling she gets when its time to fight. "If you say no, I have to run, at least until things get going. I'll disappear into America, into one of their cities, and hide, and come back when the fighting starts."

"Dumbledore ran the Order, Audra." Professor McGonagall, who Audra had never once seen lose her composure, had a waver in her voice. "It's him who decides."

"Then talk to her for me. Tell him," Audra pauses, breathes in a shuddering breath, and then lets it out slowly. She knows the story of Snape, knows what her next words will be offering. "Tell him I can use Occulemcey, and use it well."

"You're so young," McGonagall says finally, and her voice is very old. "So young, all of you, and you're all so ready to fight. You believe what you believe and you love who you love and that seems to be it for you, all of you, for better or worse. You shouldn't have to die for something you don't even understand."

"Are you telling me no?"

She wasn't. Of course she wasn't. Hogwarts is supposed to be a school for children, but just a few weeks ago, it turned into a school for warriors. Soon, it will be a battlefield, but they don't know it yet. "You're still in school. You have so much life to live. And I want to keep you away from that."

"It doesn't matter much what I went, Professor. But the bad guys will come calling whether I want it or not." Audra squeezes her hand in a gesture meant to comfort, then gets up to leave. "And you don't need NEWTs to be a death eater."

Professor McGonagall doesn't stand up when Audra walks to the door, but she doesn't stop staring at her with an expression caught halfway between pain and pride. There's respect, there, too, a type of respect she never expected to see from a woman like her. Respect that comes from your equals, not your superiors. "Audra Stanton," She says, in a tone that makes it feel like a good bye and a hello all at once. "You would have made an excellent Gryffindor."

Maybe being brave isn't all about the daring acts in the glory, Audra thinks later, walking down the halls with Fred and George, trying to feel like a child for one of the last times in her life. Maybe it's about loving someone so much, you bear whatever comes their way with them, just so they don't have to do it alone.