Flying Like a Rock

I was not present the day Sirius Black was murdered. I, instead, was sleeping quite soundly upon a bed surrounded by an endless row of other beds at St. Mungo's. Being in my condition, I was barely aware of the usual hospital happenings- the bustling of nurses and frequent check-ups by Healers - let alone the outside world.

Time is always short, and there is never enough of it. This is something I learned with age. However, it was suddenly in my grasp at that moment of absolute unconsciousness. My mind released every inkling of fighting and struggling. Of course, as with all luxuries, this was torn from me after I broke the waters of rest.

I found a man at my bedside, stroking my covers as if he desired to share these comforts. But, in all factual sense, this theory was completely impossible. As Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he could request such trivial things and even create them with a flick of his wand.

I was silent and only watched his fingers as they moved gracefully. They were long and quite like a pianist's hands, however these hands served quite a different purpose. It was odd that these fingers had suddenly freed themselves from their prison of control. Usually folded calmly, they rearranged their positions every few seconds, seemingly unsure of where to place themselves.

But then my eyes were abruptly tired of watching this phenomenon, so I raised them to his. Severus Snape noticed this immediately as he always had and probably always would. The change in his ebony orbs was apparent the moment I searched them. Severus' eyes had always been a winding maze of never-ending pathways and passages. They twisted and turned, never once revealing their secrets. In fact, it was usually impossible to discern one feeling from the next, and so in the end, a person must satisfied their curiosity by simply ignoring it.

The evident change was the sudden disappearance of these roads and the emergence of staircases. It seemed that I, Minerva McGonagall, could step upon each flight - each a separate emotion - analyze it completely before stepping onto a new one. The longest staircase seemed to be composed of pain. I could not believe it was a psychical pain, nor did it seem completely emotional pain. It was pain from the deep crevices of the heart. I was shocked by this blatant show of emotions - and such private ones. I then began to feel an enormous urge to wring his neck and demand answers as to why such feelings were collecting behind his eyes.

Instead of such crude mannerisms, I simply asked very softly, "What's happened, Severus?"

He gazed into my eyes, obviously trying to seem calm, "Minerva..."

"What has happened, Severus?" I repeated, louder now.

"Potter went into the Department of Mysteries," Severus muttered.

"What?" I said, more breathing the word than anything. "Why?"

"He had a dream, delivered by the Dark Lord himself, that Black was there. Kidnapped, actually."

"And was he?" I asked, shocked.

Severus sighed heavily.

"Was he, Severus?"

"No."

"And so," I realized my hands were shaking, "he went in there alone-"

I was cut off abruptly. "Not alone. He took five others: Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley, Granger, and Lovegood."

"You mean," I continued my summarization, "six students ventured into the Department of Mysteries. How did they get there?"

"Theastrals," he answered, quite matter-of-fact.

I shook my head. "Theastrals! But Severus, what happened? Why are you so grave?"

He continued his story, "I alerted Order members. They went to his rescue. Albus told Black to stay where he was, but..."

I swallowed, remembering Sirius' younger days. Never before had he listen to anyone. Albus was a fool for thinking the man would listen now.

"I take it he didn't," I said. The words came out sharper than I had intended.

"Of course not. He went to join them. And then he met Bellatrix. A-and he fought her..."

"And?" I pressed.

"And she killed him."

The words were blunt and to the point. They flew at me, but I barely believed them. Finally, they hit me with sharp points and I immediately fell against the fluffy pillows directly behind me. The world seemed to be spinning and my mind didn't comprehend the reason for my fear and pain. At last, incredulous words spilled from my lips.

"He's dead? Truly dead, Severus?" The man simply nodded.

"How's Harry?" I asked, my mind immediately flicking to my young student. My heart wrenched as I thought of him. I knew that finding Sirius had been one of the highest points in Harry's life. Sirius had been a mentor, a friend, and a cause for happiness. Letting him go two years ago had been hard enough. Letting him go forever would be even harder.

"I haven't seen Potter. I imagine he's quite distraught." Severus was desperately trying to be condescending, but the poison that usually occupied his words was missing. I did not question him further on this topic. I moved onto, perhaps, an even more sensitive one.

"And yourself?"

"Me?" Severus snorted. "What could be plaguing me?"

I spoke my next words in a cautious tone, but I was not too soft, for the best way to gain information from Severus Snape is to anger him.

"I only asked because I know you never quite reconciled with him. I do recall a certain kitchen accident where your wands were at each other's throats! Perhaps that would be plaguing you."

I smiled humorously at the anecdote, hoping his smile would be mirthful.

Severus scowled darkly at me, instead.

"I apologize, Severus," I said, resigned, "it wasn't my place..."

"No," he replied brazenly, "it wasn't."

"What was it like?" I questioned, changing the topic, but also catering to my curiosity. It was a strange question, considered all that he had told me. I knew the essentials: the murderer, the place of the death, and the way that the death had occurred. But these seemed to be the large strokes on a painted canvas. Now I had to fill in the details, particulars which I did not possess.

"Minerva?"

"What I mean to say is..." But even I didn't know what needed to be said. I was confused by my own emotions, and my words could not express them in any way, eloquently or not.

The Potions Master checked the time on his golden pocket watch. His brow furrowed, but he looked at me politely.

"Yes, Minerva?"

My tone was of exasperation, "I don't know. I just - I haven't got any idea."

His lips shifted quirkily at me. I was quite surprised that after such a tragedy he could still carry his satirical side. After all, our recent exchange of dialogue had exposed him rather nakedly. Severus, too, was grieving.

"If you are finished...?" He posed the question in a cultured manner.

"Yes, Severus."

"Then I must be off. I am needed at Hogwarts."

"Yes, I you are. Oh, before you go, who was present at the incident?"

Severus raised an eyebrow at me.

"You mustn't dwell too heavily upon this, Minerva. It is cause for grievances, even I have to admit that, but there are other matters at stake here. The first, as you well know, is your health. And after that there are other things."

He did not explain what he meant by this last sentence, and so I automatically assumed that he was speaking of Order-related duties.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" he asked grumpily, seemingly annoyed at the fact that his speech had not diverted my mind.

"Who was present from our side?"

Severus sighed, gave me a patronizing look, and began reciting names, "Shacklebolt, Tonks, Lupin-"

"Lupin?"

"Yes, Remus Lupin," he replied. He turned slightly, but I could still see the confusion in his features.

"Will he - do you think he'll visit Grimmauld soon?"

"I'm sure. Why?"

"I just thought that..." I shifted my shoulder uncomfortably. Severus rose and fixed my pillow before turning to face me with another displeased look.

"Minerva, now I really must go. What is it? Would you like me to send him in?"

"Oh no!" I cried out, appalled by the suggestion. I knew that Remus would have his own sadness. Not only that, but he would be quite busy as well. Plans were probably being formed. The entire force of the Order would be geared toward fighting this new war.

"Then...?"

"Severus. C-could you ask him for a memory of that night? Although, tell him it can wait. After all, I have no pensieve here."

"You want a memory of it?" Severus asked incredulously. There was a suspicious glint in his eye.

"He was once my student-"

"I know," he said dryly.

"And he was in my House. He was a good boy." Severus scoffed at this. "Well, maybe he wasn't a good boy, but close to my heart. He was the prankster who caused the staff to laugh. I need to see it. I don't know why. It's just an urge I have. I don't even know if you would know what it feels like. I'm being propelled towards this."

He put up his hand before my spiel continued further.

"I will get the memory for you, Minerva. Now rest. Merlin knows you need it. I shall see you soon I trust."

He swept away in his long black robes, careless as ever. I was again surprised by his nonchalance. But in the end I ignored this as one always has to do, and laid my head upon my pillow, nursing the pain that Severus' news had brought me.