Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

Christmas Eve, 1982

Minerva had hoped never to return to the dismal street where the Dursleys lived and certainly not on Christmas Eve.

Still, Albus had sheepishly asked her to look in on Harry that morning having belatedly remembered that he’d meant to ask her a whole year before. She knew why he had forgotten. Hamish McKenzie’s Grandmother had passed away on Christmas morning. Albus had been kept busy dealing with the poor boy’s situation for most of Christmas Day.

She had remonstrated with Albus nevertheless because he really should have looked in on Harry’s placement much sooner, especially given her assessment of the Dursleys as terrible muggles. In response, he had shown her Petunia’s letter and the silver devices which tracked the wards around Harry, and he’d confirmed that he would have been alerted if something was wrong. Indeed, he’d confessed that he’d dithered over whether to ask her at all given his devices had been quiet all year.

Minerva had suggested she look in regardless. Honestly, Minerva sniffs, Albus does have a tendency to trust far too much in his spells and devices. Nothing beats getting eyes on a situation in her opinion.

Wandering down Privet Drive in her cat form to spy, Minerva jumps up onto the garden wall of the Dursleys’ abode and looks at the boring façade of the muggle house. She’s grateful that the snow has dispersed in the South, and the morning has been dry. When she’d left Hogwarts there had still been a thick blanket of snow across the grounds and the air had smelled of more to come.

She licks one front paw delicately as she discreetly gazes into the front window, lit up with bright multicoloured lights which frame the window.

It is a lovely family Christmas Eve scene.

Lily’s sister is playing with her son. The boy is not as rotund as the last time she saw him. He sits chuckling happily in a bouncy chair as Petunia plays with large blocks with him. She’s clearly teaching him colours as she pauses to state the colour before placing the block. Behind her in an armchair, her husband snoozes.

The couple are casually dressed. Vernon Dursley wears a grey Christmas jumper teamed with old grey trousers while Petunia is in a festive green loungewear combination which makes her look handsome rather than horsey.

The room is decorated nicely too. There is a real Christmas tree in the corner festooned with baubles and tinsel, a stack of presents underneath gaily wrapped. A paper chain loops over the back wall and pictures.

Minerva cannot see Harry though.

He could be sleeping, or simply out of view, Minerva reasons. She needs to get closer, but there is no suitable perch closer to the window.

She settles down into a classic cat-loaf shape to wait.

The sound of an apparition at the end of the street almost startles Minerva off the wall. She carefully moves, stretching as she turns to see who it is, grateful that her eyesight is enhanced by her feline nature given the dark of the winter evening.

She sits back down abruptly as she sees Andromeda Tonks hurrying up the pavement with her daughter who is sporting her father’s curly hair. Both mother and daughter are bundled up in large muggle coats.  

Minerva jumps off the wall and hides under a bush in the Dursleys’ front garden. Her cat form is not that well known, but most students at Hogwarts have seen her as a cat once or twice.

She wonders what Andromeda is doing in Little Whinging. Perhaps, the simplest explanation that Ted Tonks is a muggleborn and has family in the area might be right. She’ll just wait under the bush until Andromeda passes.

But Andromeda does not pass.

Minerva’s eyes widen as Andromeda leaves the pavement and marches straight up to the Dursleys’ front door. She rings the doorbell.

What?

Petunia opens the door and smiles at her visitor. “Andromeda, Happy Christmas!”

What?!

“Hello, Petunia! Nymphadora, do you want to say Happy Christmas to Auntie Petunia?”

What?!!

“Habby Christmas, Auntie Petunia!” Nymphadora recites with a gappy grin.

“I won’t keep you,” Andromeda says, “I just thought I’d pop by on my way to Sirius to see if Dudley was recovering from his cold, and to drop off his present, of course.” She delves into a pocket and brings out a beautifully wrapped box.

“Oh, thank you! I gave yours to Sirius yesterday,” Petunia takes the box with another smile. “Dudley’s much better, thank you.”

Sirius? As in Sirius Black?

“Well, I’d better be going before himself wonders where I am,” Andromeda smiles. “Just call if you need anything, Petunia.”

“I will,” Petunia says. “Please give Sirius and Harry our best. We haven’t seen them for a couple of days to make sure Harry didn’t pick up Dudley’s cold and I doubt Vernon will move from his armchair until Boxing Day now.”

Andromeda chuckles. “Ted’s the same!”

There’s a rigmarole where she coaxes her daughter into saying goodbye, but finally Andromeda walks away, and Petunia closes the door.

Minerva slinks out from under the bush and follows Andromeda. She has enough sense to keep a good distance, but she watches carefully as her former student enters the adjoining Wisteria Walk and stops at a lovely bungalow.

Minerva takes up a position on the opposite side of the road as Andromeda rings another doorbell.

Sirius Black opens the door. Black. Black who had written to her the year before claiming that he was going abroad in the wake of the Potters’ deaths!

Her eyes narrow at the sight of the boy curled up in his arms.

Harry Potter.

She tunes into the cousins’ conversation as Sirius ushers Andromeda and her daughter inside.

“…he’s still tiring really quickly, poor kid!” Sirius is saying.

“You worry too much, Sirius. He’s doing well,” Andromeda assures him as the door closes.

Minerva resumes her cat-loaf position and stares at the bungalow.

Part of her wants to leap up and rush to Albus with the information she’s uncovered, but the more sensible part of her knows they only have a piece of the puzzle and not the whole picture.

What does she really know, Minerva questions herself quietly. All she really knows is that Harry is with Sirius in a bungalow close to the Dursleys; that the Dursleys know that Harry is with Sirius; that they are all in contact with Andromeda Tonks, who is a trained Healer, if Minerva remembers correctly.

That they sought a healer is perhaps is the least surprising factor. She knows Poppy saw Harry briefly after the attack on the Potters, Harry had been with her when Albus had dispatched Minerva to Privet Drive, but it would be a poor guardian who didn’t seek an independent Healer to check him after seeing the scar on Harry’s forehead, and the news of the attack Albus must have presumably imparted in the letter he’d left.

Perhaps Petunia had contacted Sirius in the same way she had reached out to Albus, Minerva considers thoughtfully. Minerva had attended the Potters’ wedding along with both Petunia and Sirius, so she knows they had met prior to Lily’s death. If Petunia had wanted magical help and hadn’t wanted to disturb Albus, Sirius and Remus were obvious avenues for support as James’ closest friends. And if Petunia had reached out to Sirius, Sirius in turn had no doubt reached out to Andromeda. It wouldn’t surprise Minerva to learn that the cousins had stayed in touch as the two outcasts of the Black family.

The question is whether Harry is with Sirius as a temporary holiday stayover or whether the arrangement is a more permanent arrangement.

She’ll wait, Minerva determines. She’ll wait until Andromeda leaves and then she will tackle Sirius Black for the answer.

In the end she doesn’t have to wait long. Andromeda only stays briefly. Minerva watches Andromeda walk briskly away, her daughter at her side. Once she turns the corner and is gone from Wisteria Walk, Minerva stretches, easing her limbs back into motion. She jumps down from the wall and saunters over the road to the bungalow. She leaps up onto the wall and over into the garden, and…

The sense of a magical ward hits her a moment before it takes effect with a slap.

She’s unconscious as she falls in a heap on the front lawn.

o-O-o

When Minerva awakes with a startled breath, she finds herself cosily situated on a comfortable sofa. She knows immediately that she’s still in her cat form and is hugely relieved. There is nothing worse for an animagus than being forced back into human form.

“You should change back now you’re awake, Minerva,” Sirius’ voice startles her. He says the words grimly and there is a latent threat that he will change her back by force if she does not.

Minerva cannot argue with his intent. She is the one who entered his wards uninvited; who was spying on him.

Minerva changes. She manoeuvres into a sitting position on the sofa and uses the time situating herself to take in the cosy warmth of the living room.

A small array of Christmas cards decorates the mantel. There is a Christmas tree in the corner of the room, glowing with fairy lights, a stack of presents underneath. There is a lovely fire crackling in the hearth behind a fireguard. 

Sirius sits by the fireplace in an armchair, opposite to the sofa.

Harry is not in the room.

Minerva brushes down her tweed jacket. “I should have checked for wards.”

“You really should have done,” Sirius says politely. “Tea or a tipple?”

“Either would be welcome,” Minerva agrees in the same polite tone. She feels wrong-footed.

Sirius hums.

She watches as he calls a house-elf to him and orders a Firewhiskey and some shortbread for them both. She notes the Black crest on the elf’s smart pillowcase. The house-elf pops away and almost instantly the order is fulfilled.

Minerva takes an appreciative sip. She sets the glass down on the nearby coffee table.  “I apologise for my intrusion, Sirius.”

“Albus?” asks Sirius bluntly.

Minerva breathes out sharply. “He sent me to check on the Dursleys.”

“Isn’t he a little late for that?” Sirius’ own disgruntlement is a match for her own.

“He has devices linked to the wards,” Minerva explains.

“Right,” Sirius looks disturbed.

She explains the devices briskly, hoping to dispel his clear dislike that Albus is monitoring them. He sips his Firewhiskey as she talks. He looks surprisingly adult in a way that she has never recognised in him before. His shoulder length hair is caught back in a low bun. His beard is neatly trimmed. He is wearing muggle clothing – jeans and a comfortable sweater in Gryffindor red.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Minerva says bluntly. “When you wrote to me last, you said you were going abroad.”

Sirius regards her with calm silver eyes. “Did you know that the Dursleys do not feature in Lily’s Will as prospective guardians for Harry?”

Minerva stills. “They don’t?”

Sirius shakes his head. “I discussed the matter of guardianship with James and Lily when Harry was born. It was meant to be Alice and Frank first, me second,” he gestures with the whiskey, “a few other names beyond that, but all wizards and witches.”

Minerva frowns.

“Albus is Lily’s executor,” Sirius continues evenly. “On the night of their deaths, I can understand him bringing Harry to Petunia. She was a completely safe place for him, especially with the wards Lily left. But in the days after? Alice said he’d told her that she wasn’t even to visit when she asked where Harry was, and disregarded her right to take custody as Lily had wanted.”

Minerva breathes in sharply. Had she effectively colluded in the kidnapping of an heir to an Ancient and Noble House? She’d trusted Albus absolutely in his decision. “He circumvented their wishes?”

Sirius nods. “I get his initial scepticism over me with all that business about the Secret Keeper, but Alice and Frank?”

Minerva picks up her drink and takes a large gulp.

“After Alice was injured, I came to visit Petunia to see if Harry was alright,” Sirius says.

Minerva flushes as she realises that for all she had remonstrated with Albus, she has not taken the initiative the way Sirius had clearly done. She listens as he describes walking in on Harry having an accidental magic tantrum; the Dursleys’ worry for their son’s safety; their frustration at having a magical child literally dumped on their doorstep and only a letter to tell them of Lily’s death.  

The latter makes her cringe inwardly with renewed embarrassment.

Why hadn’t she argued for Albus to knock on the door? It was disconcerting to realise just how she had accepted leaving a toddler on a doorstep without commentary. And more, Minerva tells herself sternly, no matter what she might think of Petunia Dursley, then or now, the woman had deserved better than to find out about her sister’s death in a letter.

“They were woefully unprepared to look after him,” Sirius concludes, drawing her attention back to him. “So, we investigated matters with the Potters’ solicitors and came up with a solution. Once Albus wrote back to Petunia acknowledging that he had made her Harry’s legal guardian, we contracted for me to act as his magical guardian.”

They’ve essentially implemented the Potters’ wishes by circumventing Albus, Minerva realises.

“You did not inform Albus,” Minerva states, careful to keep any hint of remonstration out of her voice because she really cannot blame him given everything she has heard.

Sirius shakes his head. “My solicitor advised against it.” He smiles sharply. “Can you honestly say you believe that he’ll leave things alone when you tell him? He doesn’t like or trust me. I doubt I fit his idea of a suitable guardian.”

Minerva notes the ‘when’ in his words and downs the rest of her whiskey. “Why settle so close to Petunia?”

“The wards,” Sirius says simply. “Harry is safer behind them.” He shrugs. “My grandmother was also of the opinion it would delay Albus’ interference if he believed Harry was still with the Dursleys and I was abroad.”

Minerva huffs. She might have known Melania Black had a hand in it. She absorbs the reality that whatever estrangement Sirius had once had with his grandparents, it is likely mended if he’s taking advice from his grandmother.

“Petunia’s not so bad these days,” Sirius says suddenly, yanking her attention back to him. “She’s relaxed a bit. She gets along well with Andi and my Gran.”

“I take it Remus is also in on this ruse?” Minerva mutters thinking about the card she’d received from him which had made no mention of Sirius at all.

Sirius shakes his head. “I haven’t seen him since the funeral.”

She’s taken aback at that. The Marauders had been unshakeable at school. But then, Peter Pettigrew had betrayed them all and James was dead. Perhaps that has shaken the foundation of the remaining friendship, and if so, it is a pity, Minerva muses.

“I know you don’t owe me anything,” Sirius says quietly, “but for Harry’s sake, may I ask that you delay telling Albus until after the Christmas break? I’d rather Harry’s holiday not get spoiled.”

Minerva is horrified at the question. Mostly because of his automatic assumption that she will tell Albus like she lives only to do his bidding, but also because Sirius is right; if she does tell Albus, he will immediately be at Sirius’ doorstep demanding that Sirius handover Harry, no matter the legalities, or that it would ruin their planned Christmas.

She regards Sirius. He’s clearly put Harry’s welfare at the top of his priority list. She is grudgingly admiring of his stance and actions. She sniffs.

“Under the terms of Lily’s Will, you are the rightful guardian?” Minerva checks.

“I believe so,” Sirius says, an eyebrow arching in a silent query. “James’ said it was Alice and Frank first, but then me, but it’s hard to know for certain what was in Lily’s since Dumbledore is the executor and the solicitors can’t confirm without his permission. Abbott cannot actually say.”

Minerva nods thoughtfully. “Albus wanted me to check that Harry was safe and well-looked after. I have done that. He won’t hear about your arrangement with the Dursleys from me.”

Sirius couldn’t have looked more stunned than if she’d actually stunned him. Again, his assumption that she doesn’t have a mind of her own rankles.

It rankles more, Minerva muses, because she’s beginning to realise that he’s not exactly wrong in his assumption. She’s allowed herself to get far too comfortable accepting Albus’ lead on everything. As his deputy she knows all too well that Albus is not right about everything. Merlin only knows what he was thinking in hiring Severus Snape as a teacher…but she does have a mind of her own and it’s time she started to use it.

“I will pop round occasionally for tea,” Minerva continues briskly. “I realise that I should have done as you did and checked on Harry myself rather than relying on Albus to do so this past year, and I won’t make that mistake again.”

Sirius nods. “You’re welcome. I’ll add you to the wards.”

“Thank you,” Minerva says dryly, remembering the cold slap of the ward before she lost consciousness. “Now, pour me another drink, Sirius, and tell me all about Harry’s last year. Perhaps I can meet the young man?”

“He’s down for a nap, but I’ll get him shortly,” Sirius says. He smiles at her, and she’s reminded of the teenage mischief-maker he once was. “Thank you, Minerva.”

She waves away his sincere thanks and settles in as he begins the tale of how he and Harry had moved into the bungalow.

She’ll do better, Minerva promises herself. She’ll do better by both the boys under the bungalow’s roof. It’s what James and Lily would have wanted, and no more than they deserve.

fin.

Next: A Promise of Brotherhood

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