Alexandra Dursley {Golden Trio}

Chapter 26 - Tea with McGonagall

You guys I am getting so excited about this! :)

 Al set the pile of food down in the tent and wandered over to the fire, where Sirius was sat watching Crookshanks. He was significantly cleaner now he had access to running water. But his old robes were still filthy. "Good Christmas?" he asked her as she crossed her legs on the sofa.

 "Yes thanks. Seen any more of McGonagall?" she asked, getting down to business. They both needed to discuss what they knew and come up with a plan of action.

 "Not really - I've mainly stuck to the tent. How did you get hold of it at such short notice?" Sirius asked.

 "House elves," she said simply.

 They sat in silence for a while, then Sirius asked, "So, Dumbledore? What's the deal with him?"

 "I just think he has ulterior motives," she explained, "Like when I told him about my parents neglecting Harry, he-"

 "What did you say?" Sirius interrupted, and Al realised this was the first time they'd spoken about Harry. She hadn't been able to stay long after she'd fixed his rib, and could only pop down briefly with the tent that evening before she had to pack. Aside from that they'd only spoken in letters and this was definitely a face-to-face topic.

 "My parents don't treat Harry very well. I do my best to stick up for him, but there isn't much I can do," she explained gently.

 "Do they, er-" Sirius began, looking for the courage to continue, "Do they hit him?"

 Al nodded, her throat dry and her chest tight, "Sometimes."

 "Oh Merlin," Sirius exclaimed, burying his face in his hands. Al thought she heard a sob so she shuffled over and awkwardly rubbed his back. When he began to cry - real tears and everything - Al felt even worse. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything? "Lily and James's son!" he cried, and Al embraced him tightly.

 "We'll sort it out," she promised. They sat for a while longer until Sirius's breathing slowed to a normal rate. "So, two problems," she said, trying to move the subject on. She always got really awkward when people were upset, "McGonagall and Pettigrew. What are we gonna do about them?"

*****

 It was Tuesday evening and Al knocked on McGonagall's office door. "Enter," she heard and obliged. "Miss Dursley," McGonagall greeted her warmly, "Have a seat. Cup of tea?"

 Al sat down, "Please."

 "I noticed you've been running in the mornings," McGonagall began, setting down two teacups, "You ought to be careful, what with the dementors and Black."

 Al took a sip of her tea and set it down. It was too hot to drink yet, "You think he's still on the grounds? Would the professors not have found him?" she asked politely.

 "Hogwarts is a big place," McGonagall responded simply, "How's your animagus research going?"

 "Sorry?" Al asked.

 "I've given some more thought to that question you asked me before the holidays," McGonagall expanded, "I assumed you were working on a personal project?"

 "Oh not really," Al lied, sipping her tea, "Just a one time curiosity." Ha! she thought, Me? Doing transfiguration for fun. No thank you.

 "Hmm," McGonagall mused, sipping her own tea, "What do you think about Black?"

 "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," Al said stiffly. What was with the sudden interest - she'd hardly ever spoken to McGonagall before.

 "Well I presume you've read up on his case, what with Mr Potter being your cousin?"

 "Oh," Al thought for a moment about what to say next. "There wasn't a lot of evidence, was there?" she said, for the sake of discussion.

 "No, I suppose not," McGonagall agreed, "But who else could it be?"

 "Pettigrew?" Al suggested.

 "Peter Pettigrew is dead," McGonagall retorted, though her voice wavered. Al instantly picked up on this - did McGonagall suspect what she knew to be true. Did she think Pettigrew was an animagus? But Al couldn't afford to give anything about Sirius away.

 "Perhaps Black killed him for revenge?" Al suggested, playing the devil's advocate.

 "And all those muggles?"

 "Pettigrew's work maybe? Or Black was in such a fury he lost control? We'll never know because there was never a trial," she finished wondering if she'd gone too far.

 "I see. It is a possibility," McGonagall considered, deep in thought. "But there's the matter of only Black knowing of the Potter's location. He was the only one that could've gone to Voldemort with that information." Al wondered how McGonagall knew she knew this.

 "How do you know that, Professor?" she asked quietly.

 "The Potters were close to Dumbledore, who confided that information with me," McGonagall said.

 "And the Potters definitely weren't lying? In order to protect the Secret Keeper's true identity?" Al argued. Something clicked in both their minds instantaneously. Shit, Al thought, she wasn't supposed to know about the Fidelius Charm.

 McGonagall slowly put her teacup down, "So you heard my conversation with the Minister?" she asked sternly and Al felt her cheeks burn.

 "Yes, Professor. I did," she confessed.

 "I see." The Professor thought for a moment. "I must say, I did find your question odd at first," she began, "But then I realised something the Minister had said to me at the Three Broomsticks; about Pettigrew's robes being in a pile on the floor. Surely, if Black had blown him up, his robes would be burnt to a crisp at the least. I presume that was what you picked up on?"

 "Yes, Professor," Al said, torn between impression and confusion. She hoped this was going in the right way.

 "I thought so, but I had to be sure," McGonagall continued, "That's why I invited you to tea. Biscuit?" she offered, and Al took a crispy gingersnap. "So, what do you really think about Black's case?" McGonagall asked again.

 "Honestly, I think he's innocent," Al confessed. McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "He never got a trial, so we'll never know. But I think his innocence is what kept him sane, in Azkaban I mean."

 "An interesting theory," McGonagall said, helping herself to a shortbread, "I should like you to keep me in the loop."

 Al inhaled sharply, feeling a little guilty for taking a biscuit, "I don't think I can do that, Professor. Sorry."

 "Because you think I'll tell Professor Dumbledore?" she guessed. Al nodded shamefully. "Normally, yes," the Professor confessed, "But in this instance, I think he's wrong - as anyone can be. And I wouldn't want to send an innocent man to jail. So I will not tell him anything."

 Al nodded, considering the offer, "OK," she finally said, "I could do that."

 "Can I see him?" McGonagall asked, a weirdly childish eagerness taking hold of her, "Black, I mean."

 "What makes you think I know where he is?" Al asked.

 McGonagall raised her eyebrows, "I know he's in the forbidden forest. You go in there with a bag every morning."

 "You've been watching me?" Al asked, surprised and offended.

 "I was just wondering what you were up to," she confessed.

 Al took a deep breath, "I want to check with Sirius first, but I think he'd like to see you," she finally said.

 McGonagall nodded, "Thank you, Miss Dursley."

 "And thank you for the tea, Professor," Al replied, getting up to leave. As she reached the door however, a thought occurred to her, "You, know," she said, turning round, "You can be very Slytherin sometimes."

 McGonagall looked taken-aback, but then smiled, "And you can be very Gryffindor. Most of the time in fact."