The Lesson

Minerva McGonagall stalked across the grass, muttering a few choice phrases under her breath. She trusted Dumbledore more than anyone she knew, but he could be so high-handed. She'd taken one look at Potter--shocked, bleeding, white as chalk--and wanted to take him to Poppy at once. But instead of allowing her to escort the boy to the hospital wing, Albus had sent her to the pumpkin patch in search of a dog.

It wasn't that she really minded being sent to fetch and carry like a first-year. There was no student available to send in her place, and even if there had been, Dumbledore's lack of explanation meant the errand required discretion, and most students couldn't be trusted to keep their mouths shut. But unlike Minerva, a first-year wouldn't have to dodge hysterical parents who wanted explanations for the evening's events. Nor would they excite the same sort of curiosity; people who wouldn't notice an extra student on the grounds might wonder why the deputy headmistress was walking toward Hagrid's cabin when it was clear Hagrid wasn't there. Even if his tall outline hadn't been visible in the lights surrounding the maze, the wind blew from that direction and carried the sound of his argument with the sphinx.

To avoid being seen, Minerva had left the castle by the garden gate and walked behind the greenhouses. It would have been faster and more circumspect to cross the grounds as a cat, but she had dismissed this idea at once. She was sometimes distracted by small animals when she was a cat, and there was no time for that now. Besides, she really didn't want to meet a strange dog in her cat form. She found dogs difficult enough as a woman, and didn't want to relinquish the human advantages of height and wand.

There were two kinds of dogs, in Minerva's experience: the kind that growled and the kind that leapt up on a person. Most dogs she met were the first kind; she suspected they could tell she was sometimes a cat. Their hostility made her nervous, but she preferred them to the ones like Hagrid's boarhound, Fang, who was so friendly nothing could stop him jumping up to lick her face. At least the growlers didn't invade her personal space.

She approached the pumpkin patch gingerly, wondering which type of dog this one would be. It turned out to be neither; instead it was standing alert and quiet in a corner of the patch as if expecting her. Feeling slightly ridiculous, she bent down and said, "Professor Dumbledore asked me to bring you to his office. Please follow me." It simply nodded and trotted beside her back toward the castle.

How odd, she thought as they walked. She'd never seen a dog nod before, though she'd seen other animals do so. Unlike most wizarding pets, dogs didn't seem to have magical qualities, and she couldn't remember seeing one act in such a rational way. It was almost like a cat.

She pondered this as they took the same roundabout route by which she had come. The wind still carried voices over the lawn from the pitch, and Minerva could hear Poppy's low voice, sounding irritated although her words were unclear. This was followed by a squeaked order from Filius, presumably to straggling students. And just as they skirted the vegetable gardens, Molly Weasley's voice floated over the grounds, shouting, "But who's got Harry, Minister? Where's Harry Potter?"

The dog whined and trotted faster, so that Minerva was almost running to keep up. It seemed to know exactly where they were going, heading straight for the garden gate and the staircase just inside it, and didn't slow down till they reached the stone gargoyle outside Dumbledore's office. Minerva said the password--Cockroach Cluster--and the dog snorted. She gave it a sharp look before climbing the stone staircase.

Once inside the oak door, she said, "Please wait here. Professor Dumbledore will be with you shortly."

She turned to leave, but the dog caught the edge of her cloak in its teeth and tugged. "Stop that," she snapped, tugging back. "I've got to get back, I've got a student to look after--"

Pop.

A man was sitting on the floor where the dog had been, her cloak still in his mouth. He dropped it just as Minerva leapt backward with a shriek.

"Merciful heaven!"

"What happened?" Sirius demanded.

Minerva didn't answer; she was clutching her chest and gasping. Really, Dumbledore might have warned her! One brief conversation last year to explain that Black was innocent, yet he never mentioned that Black was also an Animagus. What on earth was wrong with the man?

Now Sirius was standing and gripping her arm. "Is Harry all right?"

She still couldn't speak. She was going to kill Dumbledore for this. Anybody would have been shocked if a dog turned unexpectedly into a man at their feet.

"Is he all right?"

"Potter's injured, but he'll be fine," she answered finally. "Dumbledore is with him now."

"Thank God," Sirius muttered fervently. "What happened?

Minerva shook her head, still breathing heavily. "I don't know. Dumbledore sent Severus for Veritaserum--he'll be questioning the culprit shortly."

"Who is it?"

"I don't know. Really, Sirius, I don't," she repeated, for Sirius looked about to protest. "Whoever it is has been impersonating Moody."

"What?"

"That's all I know. I'm sorry, I've got to go. I'm sure Dumbledore will be along very soon."

"But--"

"Merlin's beard, boy, let the woman go!" roared a portrait from behind Dumbledore's desk. It was Fortescue, a fat, red-nosed wizard with the voice of a drill sergeant. "She's the deputy headmistress, she's got better things to do than to stand about answering foolish questions."

"She's a teacher, Fortescue, it's her job to stand about answering foolish questions," said a dark-haired man in green and silver from another portrait. "Of course, I would expect more intelligence from a Black, but then my great-great-grandson has always been a disgrace to the family."

"Phineas Nigellus," Sirius replied. He made the name sound like an insult.

Phineas sneered back at him, and as the two began to bicker, Minerva escaped down the spiral staircase. When she reached the corridor she began to run flat out, and thought savagely, I need a drink.

* * *

For the second time in a year Minerva learned that a former student she'd thought to be dead was alive and a Death Eater and living in the castle under their very noses. That was bad enough, but to witness the Dementor's Kiss as well . . .

No drink could dull that horror, but after three firewhiskeys she was able to sleep. In spite of this, she woke before dawn, shuddering at the vision of a hoodless dementor looming over a shadowy figure she was powerless to protect.

Dumbledore asked her to join the Order the next day. She hadn't been a member last time, as she had felt her proper job was to protect and teach her students, and fighting was better left to the Ministry. But now that she knew they couldn't count on the Ministry, she agreed at once.

"Thank you, Minerva. I expect to spend a great deal of time traveling this summer, and it relieves my mind to know I can count on you as I always do." Minerva flushed with pleasure at his words. "Though I fear it will not be much of a holiday for you."

"I don't think any of us expect much in the way of holidays for some time, Albus."

"Perhaps not, but when term ends, I'd like you to take a little time for yourself. Go home and relax for a while. I'll contact you soon after that."

"But where will you be?"

"I will be searching for new headquarters."

* * *

A fortnight later, Minerva sat waiting for Dumbledore in a café near her Edinburgh flat. The last week of term has been so stressful, she had found her first week off restful in spite of her worries about You-Know-Who. Her flat was in a Muggle neighborhood, and it was oddly refreshing to be surrounded by people who never used magic.

Since she spent her summers among Muggles, Minerva kept an eye on Muggle fashion, and her linen dress and emerald scarf did not look out of place in the café. So she couldn't help snorting when Dumbledore entered the café wearing a velvet suit of deep plum. He stood in the doorway, scanning the room and drawing every eye. So much for her desire to blend in. Albus always did like making a stir, she thought as she waved him over.

He beamed at her as he sat down. "Hello, Minerva. I trust you've not been waiting long?"

"I'd happily wait another fortnight if you'd use the time to get a new suit," she answered tartly. "Really, Albus. Velvet? In July?"

"I'm an old man, Minerva. I get cold much more easily than you do." His eyes twinkled, and she snorted again.

There was a brief interval while they ordered, and then Minerva ground her teeth impatiently as Albus chatted about the string quartet he'd been fortunate enough to hear the day before. Only after their tea was served did he get to the point.

"You'll be pleased to learn that we've found an excellent location for headquarters." He pulled a map of London from his pocket and pointed to a street in a once-fashionable district. "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place. It already has many protective spells, and once we add a few more security measures it will be just the thing. If you're free on Saturday, I'd be very grateful for your assistance with the Fidelius Charm."

"Certainly. How did you find this place?" she asked as she buttered a scone.

"It's the Black family townhouse. Sirius is now the owner, and offered it to us."

"How very kind of him to suggest it. And speaking of Sirius"--Minerva gave Dumbledore her sternest look--"it would have been nice if you had told me he's an Animagus. He gave me such a fright when he transformed in your office, I thought my heart would stop."

"I'm a little surprised you didn't work it out on your own." He laughed at her evident astonishment. "You are after all very clever, and besides, I thought Animagi could sense one another."

"Perhaps I could have, if I'd gone down to fetch him as a cat. I don't know why I didn't think of it. It was a lovely night for a prowl in the gardens," she said sarcastically.

"I could hardly tell you in front of Barty Crouch."

"Of course not, but you obviously knew what he was before then. I assume that's how he escaped from Fudge last year?"

"In part, yes, though due credit must be given to Harry, Miss Granger, and a hippogriff named Buckbeak." And he finally told her everything she didn't know about the night Sirius had escaped. Minerva gasped at Dumbledore's sheer nerve, sending the students to the rescue via the Time Turner, and nearly choked on her tea at his description of Severus storming into the hospital wing.

"I'd have given fifty points from Gryffindor to see that," she said with a brief smile. "Though it does explain his 'slip' about Remus's condition. Even by Severus's standards it seemed harsh."

"Yes, but at least he and Remus can manage some level of cooperation. I'm concerned that he and Sirius cannot." Dumbledore sighed. "They simply do not trust each other. I had to force them to shake hands."

Minerva toyed with her napkin before answering. Finally she said, "Sirius won't be the only one who doubts Severus. He is a double agent, after all; you need to be prepared for questions about his loyalty."

He gave her a warning look over his teacup. "I am confident that Severus is loyal to the Order."

"Albus, I know you've refused him the Defense job because you're afraid he might go back to his old ways. How can you be sure he hasn't already?" she demanded.

Dumbledore hesitated, then said, "I have my reasons. You will just have to trust me."

Minerva shook her head irritably. "You know I trust you. I just wish you would trust me."

"What makes you think I don't?" Dumbledore asked in surprise.

"Oh, I don't know, Albus," she answered, exasperated. "Maybe because one of my former students is an Animagus, and you decided I didn't need to know?"

"Well," Dumbledore said, and his eyes were twinkling again, "I've noticed you're rather nervous around dogs. I thought going down to fetch one would help you to overcome that nervousness, and it would be no use if you already knew he was an Animagus."

"What?"

"That is the trouble with working for a former teacher, you know. No matter how old you get, I'm afraid I still try to give you lessons."

"Albus!"

He smiled as he rose. "I fear I must be off, Minerva. I shall see you on Saturday. I suggest you wear old clothing; the house is in a very poor state."

He gave a little bow and departed, leaving her still spluttering at the table.