Pettigrew's Daughter

"Yeah, it would have been kind of funny if we weren't so angry. We were driving down the motorway and I was annoyed at Mum because she wouldn't tell me why she wouldn't let me go to Hogwarts when I was eleven. We got the letters and everything, but she just ignored them. They kept sending them and the neighbours were looking at us kind of funny, so in the end she went and saw Prof. McGonagall. Got me taken off the list and all. I was more sad than angry. I didn't really know much about the school, other than that Mum and Dad used to go there and that McGonagall taught there. In the end, Mum bundled me off to Scotland to this smelly magic school that's now shut down. I didn't last long there... after that I went all over the place, including France... Anyway, Mum was driving me to the train station, in our crappy old Honda Civic, when I started asking stuff about my Dad and about the school. I think that I might've been quite rude to her- Actually, I know I was... So anyway, she slammed on the bloody brakes in the middle of the motorway and we had half a mile of metal jammed up our backside and she yelled at me to get the hell out of the car. I told her I wasn't going to. She went all white-faced then, I'd never seen her like that before, and said, in a really quiet voice, the sort of voice you expect death to have, 'If you are expelled from this school you are definitely not coming home to me. You will be out on the street by yourself. You will be alone, you will have no money and I will not give a damn. You see, it's what I should have done when you were born - cast you out, stuck you in a rubbish-bin somewhere. I'm sick of the sight of you. Every day you grow more like him..." I think she was crying, but she had her sun-glasses on so I couldn't tell.

"The cars behind us were all hooting and tooting and swerving around us and some people had climbed out of their cars looking mighty angry. So Mum stuck her foot on the accelerator and we were off again. I didn't say anything else and neither did she. When we got to the station, she dumped my bag on a half-busted trolley with wheels that didn't work... and left. She didn't say goodbye or anything. I felt really frightened then, because I had no idea how to get to the train, even though I had the ticket in my hand. I looked around for a bit and I couldn't see the right platform. There didn't seem to be anybody else that was lost like me. I was still staring around when Mum reappeared. She must've gotten over her hissy fit because she was all smiles and teeth again. She gave me a big hug and said she was really sorry and showed me how to get to the platform.

"While we waited for my luggage to be loaded Mum said something really strange. She told me to keep away from dogs and rats. I asked her why but either she didn't hear me or didn't want to reply... it was quite noisy by that time. Anyway, she knows I've always been scared of dogs, so why she said a thing, I don't know. She waited on the platform, waving like I wasn't going to come back, until the train left.

"It was probably because of the argument that I had that dream. Don't get me wrong, I don't want her to be dead... but my mind must be playing tricks on me. That's the only rational explanation..." Morgiana rolled onto her side, shivering as blood rushed to her limbs. She wondered why she had just told an almost complete stranger about that argument. It wasn't the first big fight she'd had with her Mum, nor would it, she supposed, be the last.

The story Morgiana had told Hermione was the edited version of years of uncertainty and remarks shouted in anger. It felt good to tell someone about it, but she was not able to tell the full truth. She did not want to admit to herself her darkest fear... that her mother had never loved her father and that she hated Morgiana as a result of that union. It had been easy to explain away before she knew that her father had been murdered... at that time she had believed he'd left her mother and gone overseas somewhere. Now she was not so sure. Her mother told her that Peter Pettigrew was a hero, yet she also told her she hated her for being too much like her father. Perhaps the truth was somewhere in that grey area of the unknown, buried deep in the part of her mother that would never tell the complete truth. The part that seemed frightened of something or someone.

Morgiana had been very excited about going to Hogwarts. She'd wanted to go there ever since before she received the first letter when she was eleven years old. Her mother had torn letter upon letter up on the spot in a strange sort of angry fear. She'd then gone to see Professor McGonagall personally to have Morgiana's name removed from the list. Morgiana had never understood why. She had thrown several tantrums, shouting at her mother, 'You don't want me to do anything! You don't love me! You hate me! Just because you can't do magic doesn't mean you have to ruin it for everybody else!' And Iris had banshee-shrieked, 'Why would I love you? You're too much like your bloody father.' After a brief period of silence, Iris had stormed out, slamming the door so hard that the windows shivered. As Morgiana heard the car leave, she had sunk to her knees, all the aggression suddenly deflated from her body. Her mother hadn't come back until two nights later, in a completely different mood, bearing gifts.

"Of course," Hermione said, breaking Morgiana's train of thought.

"It was just a dream," Morgiana reaffirmed, sounding just as uncertain as Hermione did. "So... arr... yeah... You're muggle-born aren't you?"

"Uh... yes," Hermione replied.

***

"Look, I must see her now," Timothy explained for the third time. "I don't care if I have to wait. I have to see her."

"Timothy, she's not going to run off somewhere. She's sick. She'll still be in the Hospital Wing tomorrow," Professor McGonagall said in a firm voice.

"I don't want you to tell her that Iris is dead. There's no way of knowing how she would react."

"Just because she is Sirius Black's daughter does not mean that she is going to commit mass murder because her mother's dead. For goodness sakes, Timothy, you've never even met her!" Minerva exclaimed. Her mind was overloaded and she was beginning to lose her patience.

Timothy drew himself up to full height and thrust his jaw forward. "I have met Morgiana before, Professor, and I do know what she is like. I think it would be best for everyone if she knew about the death as soon as possible, preferably before someone tries to interpret that dream for her or put some sort of ideas in her head."

"When did you meet Morgiana, Timothy?"

"I was hired by the Malfoy family to investigate Morgiana's actions at Storax last year. I know that she is hot-headed and impulsive. She is liable to do something she regrets before she has thought about it," Timothy clamped his mouth shut. He didn't want to be back-chatting Professor McGonagall and he certainly didn't want to be bad-mouthing Morgiana. "I need to see her now, Professor."

"Is that why Morgiana was expelled?" Minerva snapped.

"I couldn't change their minds, Professor. What she did was dangerous and because she would not give a reason for it, I could not protect her. As it was, the entire school administration was taking a back-pocket salary from the Malfoy family just to keep Quintus Malfoy schooled there. I didn't find any evidence, one way or another, for Morgiana's actions to be justified. He was a bully, he said something to her and that's what set her off. If I knew what he said... it could've been a whole different story," Timothy said, carefully guarding his tongue.

"Minerva, you should take him to see Morgiana, now," said Professor Dumbledore, speaking in a quiet voice.

"As you wish," Professor McGonagall replied. She moved slowly to the stairs, as if in a daze, motioning Timothy Abberline to follow her. Just as Timothy was about to, the dog lying under the desk stirred and pushed past him.

Once they were in the hall, Abberline attempted to make conversation. "A big dog, that," he said. "How long has Dumbledore had him?"

"I don't know."

"What's his name?"

"Padfoot."

"Lovely dog," Timothy said, attempting to stroke Padfoot's back. In reply, he received a growl. "What sort of breed is he?"

"I don't know, Timothy. Big black dog breed perhaps."

"Oh."

***

Morgiana was lying on her back, half-asleep. Hermione had left after she had dozed off. Her head still thumped, and her body was slightly numb. She closed her eyes once more, hoping for some sort of release. All she saw was her poor mother's face lit up with green light. She looked at the ceiling again, then at the curtains and the bed-covers. The only thing that had removed the image was her conversation with Hermione. Now Hermione was gone.

Morgiana heard the voices before she saw their owners. A man and two women. She recognised the women as Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey but could not identify the man, although she thought she'd heard his voice before.

"Good morning, Madam Pomfrey," the man said.

"Oh- Timothy! What brings you back to Hogwarts? Working for the Ministry of Magic again?"

"Sort of," the-man-named-Timothy replied. "I have to talk to one of your patients."

"Well, as you can see, I've only got one patient. It's too early in the year for people to pull sickies."

"Is Morgiana awake?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Oh yes. She's already had one visitor-"

"Who?" Timothy said.

"Hermione Granger, Fifth Year Gryffindor."

"And what did they talk about?"

"I'm not so desolate that I need to listen to students' conversations for recreation, Timothy. I hear enough gossip in the teacher's lounge-" Madam Pomfrey snapped.

"Okay- Okay- Sorry- What's this Grange girl like? Is she related to Granges of Yorkshire?"

"Grang-er, Timothy. She's muggle-born - like you."

"What's she like? Is she nosy or a gossip?"

"Timothy!" both women said in exasperated voices.

"Look, she's just behind that curtain, Timothy. She can probably hear everything we are saying. Why don't you just go and talk to her?" Madam Pomfrey said in a reasonable voice.

Morgiana watched as a tall shadow fell across the curtain. She saw a hand pull it aside. In the background she heard Madam Pomfrey say, "You know, I wasn't surprised when I heard he became an Auror. He was always asking questions, poking his nose into places where it didn't belong."

Professor McGonagall replied, "Nor was I surprised when I heard he got fired for re-opening that old case. He was right, of course, but the Ministry doesn't like people that are 'right', they like people that follow instructions."

"Why didn't they wipe his memory- Minerva, did you bring a dog in here?! Out! Get it out now! Shoo!"

"Poppy, he's not doing any harm-"

"Out!"

Morgiana recognised Mr Abberline from Storax. He was of average height, with very tanned skin and hair that was so blonde it was almost white. She estimated that he was probably in his early twenties. The girls at Storax had had the hots for him and had been jealous that he spent all his time talking to Morgiana and Quintus. Morgiana had been amused by the stranger, but she had definitely not fancied him (At least, that's what she told herself). Now she faced him, six months later, and wondered why he was here. Then it struck her.

"I didn't mean to do it! Whatever Professor Snape says, it wasn't on purpose! Please- Please don't get me expelled from this school too!" Morgiana rasped urgently.

"Pardon?" Mr Abberline asked.

What was his name again? Timothy. He had wanted her to call him Timothy. "Please- Mr- Timothy, please- I can't get expelled from any more schools- My Mum'll kill me-!"

Timothy wondered what was the best way to break it to her. Gently, if possible. "There won't be any killing, Miss Pettigrew... Listen, I'm not here about whatever you did to Professor Snape. I'm here because something's happened-"

"To my mother." Morgiana finished the sentence. "She's dead, isn't she?"

"Yes. I'm terribly sorry," Timothy said, feeling inadequate.

Morgiana didn't want to cry. She'd spent most of the early hours of the morning crying on Professor McGonagall's shoulder. Now she had to be strong. It was what her mother would have done. "I want to see her." A million questions orbited inside her brain - How much of my dream was true? Why? Was it painful? Is she at peace now? Is she with my father? Is she a ghost? Who was that man? Was it Sirius Black? If so, why did she let him kiss her? Only one of these questions found its way to her lips. "Did Sirius Black kill her?"

"First of all, I don't think it's advisable for you to view the body. I thought that Professor McGonagall might-"

"She's my mother! I need to see what that mud-squelching bast-"

"Ahem," said Professor McGonagall.

Morgiana's eyes hurt as she focused on the Professor's face. "Professor, you understand, I need to see her. For- For-" The tears she had tried to avoid fell down her face like a hot monsoon. Her mother was dead. She'd never see her again, never talk to her, never hug her, never smell her, never understand her. She had now lost both parents and felt... alone.

Warm arms wrapped themselves around her body. Morgiana leaned forward, unable to stop now that she began, the tears scouring her cheeks, throat heaving, head resting on the Professor's shoulder. She felt both numbness and agony at the same time. The pain in her head found sound and she started to cry out with sobs of grief. Her mother was dead. Iris McGonagall was dead. The bond between mother and child had been suddenly cut. No-one would ever see the side of Iris that Morgiana had seen. A life was wasted.

"You promith-ed me she wathn't dead!" Morgiana blubbered. Sirius Black had killed her mother. In her heart she knew that he must have. Who else would hate the Pettigrew family that much? Blind rage took control of her mind, but since she was unable to accuse Black, she reprimanded the Professor instead. "You promith-ed me that she would be all right! You promith-ed me! And now she's dead! You liar! Liar!" Morgiana's voice rose to a shriek and then fell back to a sob. How could someone be alive one day and dead the next?

"I'm sorry," Minerva whispered again and again into the mass of wet black hair.

After a few minutes, the tears ran out. Morgiana felt like she was still crying but her body couldn't anymore. She hugged the Professor harder, waiting for the shaking and sobbing to stop, waiting for her heart to leave her mouth. She felt as though a huge chasm had opened inside her and she was being ripped from the inside out. "I want to see her," she sniffed, facing Timothy for the first time since she had begun to cry. "I have to."

Timothy's eyes flicked to those of the Professor. McGonagall nodded. "Of course," he said. "I also need you to go through the house and tell me if anything is missing... you will need to give a formal statement about your dream." He watched as the pain contorted her features. "It'll be all right. We will catch the person that did this."

"Yes," Morgiana half-sobbed. "Do- Do I have to go to London or somewhere?"

"I'll take you to the house first, while your memory's relatively fresh." Abberline didn't add that after she'd seen what had happened to Iris McGonagall she'd be unable to think of anything else. "Then you can stay somewhere in London - the Ministry of Magic will pay, of course. The next day I'll take your statement and then- Then you can see your mother."

"Professor McGonagall, will you come with me?"

"Yes, of course I will."

"When do we leave?"

"As soon as possible. You'll need to pack something to wear - some muggle clothing, preferably, since we will be in a muggle area and we will be using muggle transport-"

"What do you mean by muggle transport?" Minerva queried.

"A Merc. I borrowed it from the Ministry. It's in Hogsmeade."

Professor McGonagall gave Timothy a strange look, the same half-intrigued look he'd seen on the faces of the inhabitants of Hogsmeade. "What exactly is a Merc?" she asked.

"A Merc, Mercedes, is a type of car. One of those metal things with four wheels that muggles sit in." Timothy mimed a steering wheel.

"Oh. I know what you mean. The Weasley's used to own one," she paused, "Why are we taking a car? Why can't we use Floo powder or the Knight Bus?"

"Floo Network's all jammed up at the moment. Some idiot set a manticore loose in it and the Ministry are still trying to catch the damn thing. As for the Knight Bus, we're going to a muggle area, so we're trying to look as muggle-ish as possible."

"In other words, the Ministry haven't given you any power to alter any muggle's minds."

"Exactly," Timothy said. "But don't worry, the car's equipped with this thing that makes it go really fast, faster than muggle cars. It's called a warp-speed ACCELERATOR."

"I'll have to go and get my things," Morgiana announced.

"Now just a minute, young lady," Madam Pomfrey said. "If you get up, you're going to fall right down again-"

"Can you give her something for it, Poppy?"

"I told you before, Minerva-"

"Just something, please."

"I'll try," Poppy Pomfrey said between pursed lips. "But you can't expect miracles."

***

Morgiana, feeling rather self-conscious in her shabby cotton nightdress with red dressing gown, stumbled her way across to the Gryffindor tower, followed quickly by Mr Abberline and Professor McGonagall. The Professor had assured her that she was invisible for ten minutes, but Morgiana still felt uncertain. People didn't seem to see her, at least, nobody laughed, but how could she know for sure? They might just be really scared of her after her outburst the night before. She quickly skimmed her way across the moving staircase and was soon at the portrait of the fat lady. The picture saw her. What was the password? "Slytherin sucks."

The Professor and Abberline waited in the Common Room while Morgiana dashed up to her dormitory. She made it, just as the invisibility charm wore off. Her clothing had magically loaded itself into her wardrobe, a trick her mother had thought worthwhile, even if it was magic. Morgiana slid the coat-hangers along, looking for The Dress. It had belonged to her mother when she was fifteen, a calf-length fitted blue velvet dress with a white lace collar. Terribly unfashionable, but Morgiana liked it, or at least she liked it today. It reminded her of her mother. She threw her night-clothing off and stepped into the dress, marvelling at how well it fitted. 'Charmed to fit perfectly, every time,' Iris had said, with pride. 'Cost an arm and a leg, of course, but Dad knew it would last.'

"Going somewhere?" Morgiana swivelled to see Lavender Brown enter the room. She had a smirk on her fat face, as if she was about to say something extra cutting.

"Shut your cake-hole," Morgiana snapped. "I'm not in the mood." She turned back to the mirror and knotted her long hair into a dark bun with some pins. Her face was a mess, all dark circles and red rings. She saw her mother in the reflection, tired, sleepless, but not dead yet. Morgiana stifled a sob.

"Are you leaving?" Lavender said as Morgiana folded her night dress, a black cardigan (knitted by her mother) and some underwear and placed them in an overnight bag.

"Bet you'd love that." Morgiana hid her face as she pulled on a pair of navy-knee-high-socks. She was not going to cry. Not in front of that girl.

"Are you?"

"No." Morgiana slipped her feet into her black school lace-up shoes.

"Then what are-" Lavender was interrupted as her excited counterpart, Parvati Patil, literally skipped into the room.

"You've gotta come and see it-! There's this really hot guy down in the common room with Professor McGonagall!"

"Hot like Professor Lockhart or H. O. T. hot?" Lavender wheezed, Morgiana momentarily forgotten.

"H. O. T. hot, of course. Really, really lusty-"

"What's he look like?" Morgiana asked, knowing exactly who they were talking about.

Parvati rolled her eyes at Morgiana and turned to Lavender. "He's got- like- really blonde hair, almost white- and it's sort of long-"

"He better not look like Draco Malfoy," Lavender said, not sounding totally convinced about Parvati's judgement of hotness. "Honestly, Parvati, you have the worst taste-"

Parvati scoffed, "No! This guy is really fine... Look, you've gotta come and see 'im for yourself."

Morgiana found her hairbrush and retrieved her toothbrush from the bathroom. Lavender and Parvati were still gossiping when she came back.

"Wot's he dressed like?"

"Well... He's got on these overalls, like a mechanic wears-"

"Parvati!" Lavender wrinkled her nose.

"But he is really really hot... Sometimes people that do manual labour are..."

"So he's a muggle?"

"No- He can't be- If he's a muggle, what's he doing in the Gryffindor Common Room? Look, just come and see him..."

Lavender didn't look convinced but obediently followed Parvati down to the common room. Morgiana was close on their heels.

"See, there he is!" Parvati screamed. "See- I was right-!"

"You were," Lavender said, a slight smile on her lips.

Timothy turned and waved at Morgiana, apparently oblivious to the two teenage girls. Morgiana waved back.

"Oh my goodness! He waved at me!" Parvati rubbed a hand across her hair and licked her lips.

"No! He waved at me!" Lavender exclaimed.

"No he didn't!"

"Yes he did-"

"He didn't wave at either of you," Morgiana said, impatiently. "He waved at me."

"You!" Parvati snapped. "He did not-!"

"He did. Get out of the way so I can go and talk to him." Morgiana left the other two girls and strode across the room. Professor McGonagall, now dressed in a green skirt and jacket with a floral lace shirt and a green pillbox hat, took the overnight bag from her hand and gave it to Timothy Abberline. She looked like a nineteen sixties flight attendant, Morgiana thought, except much, much older.

Timothy smiled. "You ready?"

"Yes," Morgiana replied. She turned to face the two girls. If looks were spells she would have been lying dead on the floor under the influence of a thousand hexes. "Could you two please tell Hermione that I've gone to see my mother, that the premonition was true." She nodded to Ginny and Fred Weasley and left.

***

The car was a gorgeous silver mercedes-benz, not the latest model, but still relatively new looking. Timothy had parked it right in the middle of Hogsmeade. 'Always a master of subtlety,' Minerva thought. Everywhere, magic folk crowded to touch the car, coveting the hubcaps, the hood ornament, the windscreen wipers and anything else that they could get their hands on.

As Timothy pushed the two women through the crowd he gave howl, "The Ministry is going to kill me!" He waved his wand angrily, shunting people out of the way right, left and center. "Okay, I want everything you people have pinched back on the car right now or I'm calling the Ministry of Magic!"

A warlock that was unsuccessfully hiding a hubcap inside his jacket grinned. "Call all you like, they won't come. They've got bigger fish to fry than some poncy mudblood that's 'ad 'is toy broken!"

"Yeah!" the others cheered in agreement.

Timothy reddened and looked as though he was going to hit the offender. "Give that back!" he snarled. "Accio wheel-trim!" The plastic disk readily entered his hands. "Look, do I have to personally remove every little item from each person or will you give them back?"

"Give them back," Professor McGonagall snapped. "We're in a hurry."

A murmur went through the crowd. "That's Minerva McGonagall, remember her? She teaches at Hogwarts... What's she doing dressed like a muggle and hanging around with the likes of him?"

"Hurry up about it," Timothy said.

Slowly the parts were returned to the car. Timothy gave a sigh of relief. "That'll teach me to bring muggle artefacts into magic places." He unlocked the car and put Morgiana's bag into the boot.

***

"You okay?" Timothy asked Morgiana for the seventeenth time.

"Yes," Morgiana said. She stared out the window at the streaked scenery. They were travelling so fast that she could barely make out anything from the green and brown blur. Occasionally, when they passed a building, there was a grey blip, but for most of the time everything was brown. She felt slightly nauseous, but that could have been the potion Madam Pomfrey had made her drink.

"When was the last time you saw the house?"

"Almost a month ago."

"A month-!" Timothy exclaimed. "But you've been at Hogwarts less than a week."

"We went on holiday, me and M- Mum," Morgiana stuttered. She repeated 'I will not cry,' in her head.

"Where?"

"London."

"For three weeks?"

"I had to get my books and Mum- Sh- she wanted to get away from the house."

"I didn't know that," Professor McGonagall said. "I thought you had stayed home for the holidays."

"That's what Mum made everyone think," Morgiana replied. "Before you ask why, I don't know. She said she was sick of the place... Oh, and don't worry, everything will be in exactly the same place it always is. M- Mum is- was obsessive about giving every object a place and one place only. She gets- she used to get angry if I moved anything. I'll be able to tell you if something is missing, don't you worry."

"What did you do in London for three weeks?" Timothy asked. "Where did you stay?" 'How did Iris, a woman with an empty bank account, pay for a three week vacation?'

"We got a room in this horrid muggle hotel. Ground floor, right in the middle of the building, no windows, no heating, and a shower with no water pressure. It was an absolute hole. Very, very cheap, of course. For the first ten days or so we did muggle stuff... We saw the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace... um... all that stuff... went shopping... Then we went through to Diagon Alley to get my books and uniform and shopped around in there for a bit..."

"And Iris seemed happy?"

"Yes," Morgiana said. "A lot happier than she has- had- been for ages. She was a bit nervous in Diagon Alley, but that was only because she hadn't been there since I last needed school stuff for Storax."

Abberline grunted.

"What's the matter?" Minerva asked him.

"We're coming up to a busy muggle area, which means I have to slow down. So far, I've managed to avoid all the big centres... I must have taken a wrong turn..."

***

"I'm telling you, she left with this really hot guy," Parvati explained to Hermione as they trekked down to the Potions classroom. "She told me to tell you that the premonition was true... Whatever that means..."

"It means her mother really is dead," Hermione said.

"Does that mean that man was her brother?" Parvati exclaimed, hopefully.

"Parvati, the girl's mother's just died and all you can think about is that man that came to tell her. You disgust me." With that, Hermione whirled off to find Harry and Ron, who were somewhere behind her.

"Morgiana's mother's dead," she told them.

"That's terrible," Harry said. "So the dream she had-"

"Was true," Hermione ended the sentence.

"That'll be why that man from the Ministry was here," Ron said. "Timothy Abberline."

***

Morgiana gazed at the mess that used to be her home. A gaping hole that looked like a screaming mouth with broken teeth stared back at her. The kitchen wall was splintered into what looked like a million matchsticks and the lawn was covered in debris. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the pain. She saw the house intact and the lawn clean and expected to see her mother waving from the doorstep. Then the image reverted to the horror of reality as she opened her eyes once more.

"...we've put a charm on the house so that it seems intact to muggles..." Timothy was explaining to Professor McGonagall.

Morgiana kicked her way through the rubble, nearing the front door. Why had someone done this? Why couldn't they just leave her mother alone? She never did anything to hurt anybody. The smell was beginning to get to her. A mixture of blood, dirt and smoke. She whirled around to face the Professor and Abberline. How could they be so calm? Her mother had been murdered! Why was she the only one in pain?

"Careful," Timothy said as Morgiana reached for the door-handle. "There's a-!"

"Oww!" Morgiana jumped back as purple sparks shot over her hand. It didn't really hurt that much, but the shock was too much. She lost control and began to cry.

"It's all right," Professor McGonagall said, hugging the girl close.

'No, it's not!' Morgiana wanted to scream. 'It's not all right! She's dead! My mother's dead and nobody seems to care!' Instead she sobbed uncontrollably. Her cries shot streaks of pain through her chest as if she was tearing herself apart. Was she ever going to be all right again?

Timothy patted Morgiana's shoulder, feeling inadequate again. He wanted to be of more comfort, but he couldn't. Something inside of him prevented personal contact. "I'm sorry about the charm. It's to stop people trying to tamper with the evidence - the whole house is covered by it. The Ministry couldn't afford to give me a guard. I should have warned you..."

"I'm all right," Morgiana heard herself gasp. 'No, I'm not!' she shrieked inwardly. She let go of the Professor and rubbed her sore eyes with her sleeve, trying to stop the flow of tears. "Can we just- Can we just get over with?"

"Okay," Timothy replied. He took a tin whistle from his pocket and blew. Purple light separated itself from the house and streamed into the whistle. He placed the object back into his pocket. "Remind me to reset it after we leave," he said.

The house was exactly as Morgiana remembered it. A long hallway with a pure white carpet and green-papered walls met her as she opened the door. A tall red-lacquered vase stood to one side, supporting an artificial orchid plant. At her feet was a hand-looped mat that read, 'Please Remove Your Shoes'. Photographs of Morgiana and her mother, her grandfather and her mother, her great-aunt and her mother, lined the walls. Morgiana smiled. This was home.

She climbed the six-step staircase to the bedrooms, not caring whether Mr Abberline and Professor McGonagall followed. Her mother's room was impeccably tidy, as usual. An old oak wardrobe stood to one side of the door and on the other side was the bed. There was no wrinkle in the rose-printed duvet cover and the pink sheet was folded back in a perfect rectangle. There were two pillows, resting adjacent to each other. Morgiana knew that every night her mother would use both pillows on her side of the bed yet return them to this position in the morning. Iris's blue velvet slippers were placed atop a blue lace nightgown that was carefully folded at the base of the bed. On the left side of the bed was a small table where Iris kept a glass of water (always half-filled), a blue pen and her diary... "Her diary's missing," Morgiana exclaimed.

"Are you sure?" Timothy asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," Morgiana snapped. "She keeps it next to her bed. She always writes in it before she sleeps... or if she can't sleep. Unless we are on holiday, or she is cleaning, it is not moved from that spot."

"What does it look like?"

"It's one of the only magic things in the house - a dark red leather book with gold embossed flowers on it and a keyhole at the side. She's had it since she was a kid. It's charmed to never run out of pages or get too fat. She keeps everything in it, photos, postcards, the lot... It's gone!"

"Where'd she keep the key, Morgiana?" Timothy asked. He checked under the bed, disregarding what Morgiana had just said.

"Around her neck on a little gold chain."

"You never saw inside the diary?"

"Only when she wanted me to," Morgiana said. "It used to drive Barry crazy-"

"Who's Barry?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"He was this horrible muggle guy with the brain of a potato. Kinda short and fat, with greasy blonde hair. Used to work for the post office. Lived with Mum for a while, until she threw him out-" Morgiana grinned. "It was the only time I ever saw her use her wand. It was... brilliant. 'Cept he called the cops on her, said she'd tried to kill him-"

"Slow down," Abberline interrupted. "Why'd she throw him out?"

"Well, first of all, he didn't like me that much. Called me 'Freak-Girl' because I always seemed to be around when things went wrong-"

"What sort of things?" Minerva said, wondering whether Morgiana had had a hand in them, or whether they were accidents.

"The TV blew up once when he was trying to watch the football. It was right after he yelled at Mum for cleaning up compulsively. Sometimes he tripped over for no reason, or things would go missing only to show up right under his nose several hours later. His poached egg would explode in his face or his beer would bubble over. I understand now that that was just part of growing up as a witch, so I was responsible. I really didn't like him at all," Morgiana reflected. "He wasn't very nice to Mum. I don't know what she saw in him. Anyway, he didn't like Mum writing in her diary all the time. He wanted to see what she had written and she wouldn't show him. And he got really suspicious when she occasionally got owls from you, Professor. So she told him."

"Told him what?"

"That she was a witch, of course. He told her that she was an absolute psycho. That she wasn't a witch, she was just a sad old hag with a scary kid and some stolen medals and cups. She said some pretty horrible stuff back to him. So he punched her, right in the face, made her nose bleed all over the carpet in the hall. That was when she sent me to get her wand from the alcove under the stairs, where she hides it. I brought it to her. She laughed at him and said, 'You don't believe I'm a witch. I'll show you!' First she fixed her nose and cleaned the carpet. Then she cast some sort of curse that burned all his clothes. Finally, she transfigured the vase next to the door into a big black panther which chased him out the door." Morgiana laughed. "We watched as he ran off down the street, his clothing half falling off and the panther nipping his heels. It was especially funny since the panther sort of reverted to a vase with a big mouth and lots of teeth. In the end Mum had to call it off.

"The next day the police came knocking at the door and they took Mum away for questioning. Barry had made what they called 'very serious allegations against her'. He'd had to have stitches where the vase had bitten him. They said it was our dog that did it. She tried to point out that we didn't even own a dog but they didn't buy it, since one of the neighbours saw her 'goading on' a big black animal. Then there were the burns on his back. They said she'd done those as well - which she had, of course. I had to go and stay with Mrs Brown and her eight kids next door while they questioned her. They were going to send her to court and all."

"Iris never told me any of this," Professor McGonagall said. "When did it happen?"

"When I was nine," Morgiana replied. "She didn't want to worry you. Instead, she went and saw the Ministry of Magic Muggle Negotiation Bureau to get the charges dropped. That's where she met Hansyn. He was an actual wizard and was really cool-"

"Hansyn Leroux?" Timothy asked.

"Yeah, handsome Hansyn. I think he's got some sort of important position at the Ministry now. He went out with Mum for a while. I liked him... She almost came right with him. I thought she was going to start doing magic again."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. She just sort of pulled away from him. She went out with him less and less often and stopped laughing at his jokes. They didn't argue, or at least, I never saw them argue. He was always really nice to her. I don't know what happened, but he just stopped visiting us. It was a pity, 'cos I really like him."

"Okay," Timothy said. "Is there anything else missing?"

"Not in this room," Morgiana replied. She let the other two leave before she carefully shut the door.

From a search of the entire house by Morgiana, Professor McGonagall and Timothy Abberline, it was discovered that Iris McGonagall's diary and duelling gloves were missing, along with a recent photograph of Morgiana that had sat upon the mantelpiece. Abberline also had a sneaking suspicion that they would not find the key that was supposed to be around Iris's neck. He certainly hadn't seen it anywhere at the crime scene. 'It could have been burnt, along with her clothing,' he thought.

As they left, Morgiana took with her a small photograph of her mother and father, taken when they were teenagers. Abberline said it was all right to take anything she liked as long as she told him. He also told her that the Ministry would hire someone to repair the house.

***

The next morning, Morgiana was accompanied by Professor McGonagall to the Ministry of Magic Building. Timothy was supposed meet them there. At the entrance they were given name-tags and had their wands taken by security. Morgiana felt nervous as she stared around the huge lobby area, strewn with a mass of people that seemed to know where they were going. Where was Mr Abberline? She looked for a familiar face... and saw one.

Hansyn Leroux was a muscular man with shiny black hair that was slightly too long and flopped around his elfin face. He had large green eyes and a pointed nose underwhich grew a slight moustache. "Mor-gee!" he exclaimed, crossing the room with the grace of a leopard. "My goodness, how you've grown!" He hugged her about the shoulders, rubbing her hair with long fingers. "How's your mother? Is she here?"

"No, she isn't," Morgiana explained, trying to smile. "I'm afraid she's been murdered."

The smile dropped from Hansyn's face, "What? Tell me it's not true... That's- That's terrible... I'm so sorry."

Morgiana turned and hugged him, not because she needed the comfort, but because he did. Hansyn Leroux had really cared for her mother, she could see that now. "It happened yesterday, really early in the morning. Somebody came into the house and blew her to pieces."

"I'm so sorry," Hansyn said again, kissing her hair. "If there's anything I can do, just- just let me know, okay? Doesn't matter what, I'll do it. I suppose you've got family with you now?"

"Yes," Morgiana said. "This is my aunt-"

"Professor McGonagall." With two hands Hansyn took the Professor's hand. "I haven't seen you for a long time, pity it has to be in these circumstances. You'll look after Morgiana, won't you?"

"Of course, Hansyn," Minerva replied. "It's nice to know that there are other people that will mourn Iris."

"Sorry I'm late," Timothy said, dashing across the floor toward them, a briefcase in one hand and a thermos in the other. Today he was dressed in a plain black cloak with a brown tweed suit underneath. "Good morning, Mr Leroux."

"Morning, Timothy," Hansyn replied. "Are you in charge of the McGonagall case?"

"Yeah," Timothy said. "Terrible business."

"Oh, well, if there's anything you need, Morgiana, you know I'll be here, okay?" Hansyn hugged the girl once more. "I've got to get to work," he explained as he began to walk away. "Ciao." He gave an unsuccessful smile, his handsome face clouded with sorrow.

As Timothy lead the two witches up the stairs, a small hairy man approached him. "Mister Fudge wants to see you in his office A.S.A.P., sir. It's about the Iris McGonagall case. He wants to know how you're getting on."

"Tell him I'm taking a witness statement and that I'll be there after that." Timothy was surprised that it was the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, that he had to report to and not somebody in the Crime Division.

***

Morgiana and Professor McGonagall were seated in a small room with wood panelling and no windows. In front of them was a carve oak desk upon which lay a sheet of parchment and a self-loading quill, poised to write. Timothy Abberline sat on the other side of the table.

"...what happens is you tell me about the dream and I ask you questions. As we talk, the quill will write everything down," Timothy was explaining. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Iris McGonagall murder investigation," Abberline dictated to the quill, which dutifully darted across the parchment in shiny black letters. "Interview with Madam McGonagall's daughter, Morgiana Pettigrew. Miss Pettigrew is fourteen years old, a minor, and is accompanied by her great-aunt, Professor Minerva McGonagall. Tell me about your dream, Miss Pettigrew."

Morgiana told him everything she remembered, the smell, the dialogue, the kissing.

"So your mother had had boyfriends before, so it would not be wrong to assume that this was another boyfriend?" Timothy asked.

"Correct," Morgiana replied. "But this was different... She seemed scared of him when he first appeared and kept on trying to change the subject when he asked about me and-"

"And?"

"She said she'd been giving him money and he told her it had run out. Mum ignored some of the things he was saying and just stood there and let him kiss her. I thought that maybe she was... trying to stall him a bit. She kept trying to give him food and make him take a shower because he absolutely stank. He said that he loved her and she- she was a bit slow to reply. I think she answered him because she was frightened, not because she meant it. Then he kissed her again... and killed her..." Rivers of salt began to flow from Morgiana's eyes in great torrents and her voice became thick as a lump grew at the back of her throat. She remembered the look on her mother's face as it was illuminated by death-fire, like a doe caught in the head-lights of a car, powerless to stop what was about to happen, too frightened to move. It was an image that would be imprinted in Morgiana's mind forever.

"Did you see a wand?"

"No. But I saw- he had gloves on and there was something wrong with one of his hands- and he drank brandy from a silver flask-"

"What do you mean wrong?"

"I don't know, it just didn't look right. It was sort of mechanical, I guess... I really don't know."

"Are you sure what he drank was brandy? How do you know?"

"My Mum-" Morgiana gasped, the lump in her throat growing bigger and the tears growing harder, "She used to drink all sorts of alcohol- I know brandy when I smell it."

"But nobody actually said it was brandy?"

"N- N- No. M- Mum just called it gr- grog." The tears tore at her eyelids, cutting their way out. Her tongue felt thick and unmovable. Reality set in. Iris McGonagall was dead and gone forever. Morgiana tried to hold back the sobbing, but it was about as futile as a piece of cardboard containing a dam. Professor McGonagall squeezed her hand, a 'It's all right. It's nearly over. I'm here,' look on her face.

"We're nearly finished," Timothy said. "Tell me, what did this man look like?"

"I don't know," Morgiana shrieked. In her view, Abberline should have been out there finding her mother's killer instead of wasting his time taking her through the house and through the dream again. "It was dark, I didn't see. And the electric lighting wouldn't work! Anyway, you know who did it - it was Sirius Black! It has to be! He was after me and she was trying to stop him by giving him money and stuff! She was so frightened that she took me to London for three weeks to hide from him! She was so frightened that she let him kiss her like that-! That's why he killed my father, don't you see? He fancied her-! And he couldn't have her- My father was a hero- He- He accused Black- He knew Black had betrayed the Potter family, but he also knew that Black was after his wife!" Morgiana shuddered with tears. That's what Iris had told her, when the truth had finally come out.

Timothy kept his composure, ignoring Miss Pettigrew's outburst and his own ideas. "And how tall was this man? Did he have short or long hair?"

"It was Black! You don't need to ask any more questions! Just catch him, okay? Just catch him before he kills again!"

"Answer the question," Timothy said, "And calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down!"

"Morgiana, please-" Minerva McGonagall said in a loud, but not shouted, voice. "He will catch your mother's murderer, but he needs to get your statement first, otherwise if the case comes to trial they'll throw the case out and the murderer will go free. Do you understand?" She took the hysterical girl by the shoulders and shook her until she stopped screaming. "Answer Mr Abberline's questions."

Morgiana took a deep breath. "Okay. What was the question?"

"How tall was the man and did he have short or long hair?"

Morgiana shut her reddened eyes to remember. "He was a bit taller than Mum and his hair was very short."

Alarm bells went off in Timothy Abberline's head. "Thank you, Miss Pettigrew, Professor McGonagall. Interview concluded at 10:00 am." The quill flopped onto the desk and the parchment rolled itself up, then multiplied itself by four, rolling out copies like a telescope. Abberline picked up the rolls of parchment and opened the door for Morgiana and the Professor. "I will find someone to take you to see the body immediately. I have to go and see Minister Fudge."

***

As he approached the Minister of Magic's office, Timothy could hear a shrill voice shouting over a man's murmur. "...Papa, why did you let Mister Smales assign the case? Why couldn't you just chose the investigator yourself? I could have managed it, you know I could. Instead, I hear on the grapevine that Timothy bloody Abberline got the job. He doesn't even work for the Ministry of Magic! It's not fair, Papa! I should be investigating that murder! I'm an Auror. He isn't!"

"Tabitha, Tabitha, Tabitha," Minister Fudge murmured in a firm but tired voice. "I realise you are an Auror, but you have no experience in murder investigation. Your specialty is cauldron smuggling. There's a big difference. Besides, it's up to the Crime Division to allocate cases and that means Mister Smales or his superiors-"

"How the hell am I suppose to get any experience if I am constantly stuck doing a crappy desk job, Papa? You should tell the Crime Division that I am ready to do murders-"

Timothy ignored the elderly secretary that sat at an imposing desk, guarding the entrance to the Minister's office, and pushed his way through the door. "Do murders, Tabitha? You mean commit them? They'll be locking you up in Azkaban next," he said with a smirk.

Tabitha Fudge had short fluffy blonde hair and the sort of face that looked as though she was constantly smiling. Her wide-set eyes were a off-green, almost aqua. Her skin was very pale, except for her cheeks, which were always flushed pink. She reminded Timothy of what a kindergarten teacher should look like, all warmth and goodness. It was a pity that she wasn't really a very warm person, in Timothy's experience, unless she got her own way. "You're not allowed in here!" she shrieked. "Tell him, Papa. He's not allowed to just barge in whenever he feels like it. This is the Minister of Magic's office, we could be discussing state secrets, for all he knows-"

"If you were discussing state secrets, Tabitha, I think the entire building would have heard. They certainly heard your current tirade," Timothy said. "Mister Fudge, I've come to inform you of the progress I am making in the Iris McGonagall murder, as requested-"

"Tabitha, I need to talk to Mister Abberline now. I'm sure you have some work to do," Cornelius Fudge told his daughter, dismissively.

Tabitha's eyes bulged as if her head was going to explode. She gulped like a fish for a moment and the swelling subsided. "Please Papa, can I stay and listen? I might be able to help... please?" She gave her best grin and sat down on one of her father's leather upholstered chairs. "You can begin now, Timothy," she said viciously, shooting sparks with her eyes.

"Sir-" Timothy began, looking from daughter to father. Tabitha Fudge had made him uncomfortable ever since she dumped him. To be honest, she had made him feel uncomfortable before she dumped him as well. Always. He never knew what mood she would be in or what she would say next. "I've interviewed the daughter, and your men have spoken to the muggle witnesses and we still haven't found out who did it-"

"Nonsense, boy," Minister Fudge interrupted. "We all know who did it. It was Sirius Black. You just have to catch him for us... Now that will be a difficult task."

"With all due respect, sir, if I'm acting alone I will not be able to arrest Sirius Black. Besides, I don't think he is the perpetrator," Abberline replied.

"Of course he did it," Tabitha shrieked. "Everybody knows he's a mad man! Who else would do such a thing?"

"We can't go allocating the blame for every murder in Britain onto Black just because he's mad," Timothy said. "Anyway, I'm very sure it wasn't him-"

"Very sure?" Fudge asked. "But not positive? How do you know, Mister Abberline?"

"Iris McGonagall's daughter had some sort of a premonition while the murder was happening. She saw everything, even though she was miles away at Hogwarts School-"

"And the daughter says it wasn't Black?"

Timothy took a deep breath. "Not exactly, sir, but the physical description she gives is all wrong. The man that killed Iris McGonagall was a bit taller than her and she was quite a short woman-"

"How do you know that? From what I hear she is in so many pieces that you wouldn't know what she looked like," Fudge said.

"I examined the clothing in her bedroom, sir. All the trousers-" Timothy saw a blank look on the Minister's face, "You know, those clothes muggles wear with two tubes that they put their legs in?" Fudge still looked confused. "Well anyway, all her clothing is altered to be shorter, leading me to the conclusion that she was short. If the man was slightly taller than her then he must be short also. Sirius Black is tall, around six feet. He would be a head and shoulders above Iris. The man Morgiana Pettigrew saw could not be Black-"

"Pettigrew-" Fudge began, but Tabitha interrupted him. "He could have used some sort of growth inhibiting potion."

"He could have," Timothy said, "But why bother? You've got to remember that this is a mad man we're talking about. He wouldn't think that far ahead. Besides, he would have known that Iris lived alone and that there would be no witnesses anyway."

"Pettigrew?" Fudge repeated.

"Iris McGonagall's daughter is named Morgiana Pettigrew-"

"She's Peter Pettigrew's daughter?"

"No. She's Sirius Black's daughter."

"But she's named Morgiana Pettigrew? That doesn't make sense Tim- Mister Abberline," Tabitha said.

"Iris McGonagall has been lying about the girl's paternity to protect her. Only a few people know the truth. Miss Pettigrew doesn't."

"Well there's your motive there," the Minister of Magic exclaimed. "McGonagall didn't acknowledge Black paternal rights so he killed her! Honestly, do I have to think of everything myself?"

"No, that doesn't explain everything," Timothy said. "If, and I'm saying if, Black murdered McGonagall, which I very much doubt-"

"Based on the daughter's evidence," interjected Tabitha, "which could have been implanted in her mind by anyone with a wand and an imagination-"

"Well, why did he do it now?" Abberline asked. "Why didn't he kill her the minute he escaped from Azkaban? Instead, we know he went after Harry Potter-"

"Had to get his friends onside first," Fudge said. "Had to get He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named back so that the others wouldn't kill him. So that he'd have a place to hide when he did kill McGonagall. Or perhaps he just couldn't find her. She'd been living as a muggle for years."

"I-just-don't-think-it-was-Black," Timothy muttered in an adamant voice. "I'll be investigating other leads before I jump to any conclusions."

"Haven't you already come to one?"

"No."

After Timothy left, Tabitha made up her mind. She would follow him. She would prove he was wrong and that Sirius Black had killed that woman. She would get the job she had always wanted. "Papa," she whimpered in her best I'm-sick-voice. "Um- I don't feel very well... do you think that you could get me some time off? I'd do it myself, I just-" She gave a groan and slumped back in the chair. "I- I- I think I need to go home and rest-"

Cornelius Fudge watched his daughter loll her head to one side, her eyes half opened and her lips slightly parted. It was strange how this sickness suddenly came over her whenever she wanted something. Still, he wasn't going to stop her leaving. If she was at home, she wouldn't be anywhere near him, shrieking in his ear every five minutes. "You don't look so good, dear," the Minister of Magic said. "I'll have my secretary send an owl for your mother to come and pick you up-"

"No-" Tabitha said, sharply. Then she remembered that she was supposed to be ill. "I wouldn't want to bother Mother. She is very busy at the moment. I'll just apparate home to my apartment..." she wheezed. 'Perhaps I'm over-doing it?' she thought as she observed conflicting emotions in her father's face.

"Are you sure you're be all right?" Fudge asked. 'Yes! Just go! I don't want to see your mother at the moment!'

"I'm sure, Papa," Tabitha replied in a weak voice. "I'll be fine."

***