Lifting his hand, he stared at his closed fist for several seconds before shaking himself, sighing and knocking solidly on the door.
"Come in!"
Stepping into the office, Harry glanced around only to start as he realised that, instead of being seated behind her desk, Professor McGonagall was waiting for him in one of the arm chairs at the opposite end of her office. Between the two deep red chairs sat a small table adorned with a tea service. Gentle spirals rose from the tea that was being poured into the fine china cups.
"How do you take your tea, Mister Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked, looking up at him.
Confused, Harry let his mouth answer automatically. "Two sugars and a spot of milk, please."
Slowly, he walked across and sank into the seat indicated to him. The tea cup was placed before him and Professor McGonagall's ever present biscuit tin was set between them.
After a sip of her own tea, Professor McGonagall leant back in her chair and regarded him over her cup.
"I'm sure that you're wondering why I asked you here," she began.
After his cautious nod, she continued.
"Mister Potter ... Harry ... it's come to my attention that I owe you an apology."
Harry's head snapped up. An apology? That was the last thing that he'd been expecting.
"At the end of last year, you came to me with concerns regarding your ... relatives," she stated. "Please believe me when I say that I believed everything that you told me. I believed that your home life was less than satisfactory. How could I not after having watched them all those years ago? I took your concerns directly to the Headmaster, exactly as I promised that I would, and was assured that Headmaster Dumbledore would insure that your home life improved.
"Afterwards, I neglected my duty. As your Head of House, as someone in whom you had confided in, as your parent's friend, I should have checked up on you. I should have made sure that something had been done, that things had changed for you. And for that, I am most terribly sorry."
Feeling his hands trembling, Harry grasped them together. His eyes focussed on the tea pot as his mind whirled. Flicking his eyes up, he took in her face before once again letting his eyes drop. Never before had he had anyone apologise to him. Never had he expected an adult to ever admit that they were wrong or deficient. The entire concept was completely alien to him.
But Professor McGonagall's face showed nothing but sincerity. It was obvious that she meant every word that she said.
At his single nod of acceptance, a sigh escaped his teacher.
"Thank you, Harry," she smiled. "I know that an apology is only a small step, but I truly do want to make it up to you." Here she raised one hand as if to forestall any protest from him. "Not only for not ensuring your well-being this past summer, but also for all the years that you were forced to stay with those people."
Once again, Harry nodded.
"If I may, I'd like to verify a few facts with you?" Professor McGonagall asked. "What were the conditions that you were living in before you ran away from the Dursleys?"
"I ...I was locked in my room," Harry replied hesitantly. "Uncle Vernon had put locks on the door and bars on the window. And there was ... there was a cat flap in the door so that they could push food in to me every now and again."
Professor McGonagall's face darkened even as her eyes flashed with fire.
"Anything else?" she asked.
"Hedwig was locked into her cage and all my Hogwarts things were taken away and locked in the cupboard under the stairs," Harry replied.
"Thank you, Mister Potter, that correlates with what I understood as well. You can rest assured that you will not be returning there ever again," Professor McGonagall asserted. "Now, I also understand that you made a magical vow? What is your understanding of the vow that you made?"
"It was when I was at Hermione's," Harry replied. "I said that I'd rather lose my magic than spend another night at Privet Dive with the Dursleys."
"And was there a white flash of light from your wand directly after you made this vow?" At his nod, she continued. "Do you understand what will happen if you ever do spend another night at Privet Drive with your relatives?"
Harry nodded woodenly. "I'll lose my magic."
"Exactly. Which is something none of us want," Professor McGonagall stated firmly. "Now, seeing as the school year has only just started, that gives us time to ensure that the buffoon that left you to suffer in that ... place for the last eleven years can't find some way to send you back there again."
Harry looked at here quizzically. "I wasn't intending on going back there."
"May I ask what you had in mind, Mister Potter?"
"I was thinking of going back to Diagon Alley," he shrugged.
Professor McGonagall frowned slightly. "While Beth Pemberton is a nice, capable witch and Hermione's Book Nook would be a wonderful place to spend the summer, it isn't a practical solution. For one, Ms Pemberton is not your guardian."
"You've met Beth?" Harry asked. "And seen the book shop?"
"Indeed, Mister Potter. I popped across to Diagon Alley this afternoon while you were spending time with Mister Lupin," Professor McGonagall confessed. "Your shop is simply wonderful and I dare say that there's sure to be a certain young witch who should be most taken with it as well."
"Oh, believe me, she is," Harry grinned.
"But back to the problem at hand," Professor McGonagall stated. "You are underage, Mister Potter, which means that you need a guardian. A guardian that will make sure that your best interests are seen to. To that end, I would like to offer my services to serve as your guardian."
Harry dropped back into the chair that he'd been leaning forward in. Feeling his mouth drop open in surprise, he snapped it shut with an audible click.
"I know that this is a bit of a surprise, Harry and I do not expect an answer right now, but the offer is there," she smiled. "I knew your parents well. Your mother especially was one of my favourites. They even made sure that I had my fair share of cuddles with their new-born son all those years ago."
"Um, I don't know what to say, Professor," Harry finally managed.
"Quite understandable, Mister Potter," Professor McGonagall replied. "And the decision is entirely yours. However, I'd like to point out that at the current time, by default, as is the case with all muggle-born and any other students without a magical guardian, the Headmaster of Hogwarts assumes that responsibility while you are a student here."
Harry scowled in distaste of that pronouncement while making a mental note to make sure that Hermione knew about that as well.
"Sirius, Sirius Black, I mean. He's apparently my godfather," Harry explained. "He sent me a letter today offering to be my guardian as well. We're going to talk about it over the Christmas break."
Professor McGonagall nodded thoughtfully. "As he is your godfather, being your guardian makes sense. I would, however, caution you to remember that Mister Black has suffered extremely over the past decade. That's not to say that he can't do a good job, only that he may have difficulties."
Harry nodded in understanding.
"Of course, there's no reason why you need to be limited to only one guardian," she smiled. "A little something to think about."
Suddenly, Professor McGonagall looked unsure of herself, something that Harry'd never seen before.
"I think that we've made a good start today, Mister Potter, but trust takes time and I don't believe a single meeting will be enough for me to regain yours. So, I was wondering if you might like to do this again. Perhaps we could even make this a weekly event. A chance to catch up and learn a little more about each other?"
For the first time in a long time, Harry firmly looked her squarely in the eye. "I think that I'd like that, Professor."
-oOoOo-
"Could I get a photo of you and Professor Dungaree, Harry?" the excitable mousey-haired boy asked as he near-bounced on the spot. "And then, maybe you could sign it, too?"
"Sure, Colin," Harry sighed at the first year Gryffindor, "but I don't know about the signing bit."
"Come on, Harry, don't spoil the boy's fun," Mick announced, slinging an arm across his shoulders in a pose for Colin's ever-present camera.
"Did I hear that correctly, Mister Potter, are you giving out signed photographs?" the despised voice of Professor Lockhart asked as the flash of Colin's camera announced that the photo had been taken. "I must say, dear boy, that giving out signed photos at this early stage of your career could seem a bit big-headed. It sounds to me as though the two of us could do with spending some time together to discuss the finer points in the life of a celebrity."
"No, no, Professor," Harry rushed, whirling around to ward off the horrendous suggestion. "Colin was just practising taking some photos. He's interested in photography."
"It did sound to me as though autographs were mentioned," Lockhart smirked, his ever present smile blinding all those around.
"That's ... that's just for our promotional poster," Harry replied, suppressing the urge to groan.
"Promotional poster?" Lockhart questioned.
"Yeah, yeah, you see, Colin and I ... Colin and I like ... photography," Harry replied, wishing that he could stare at his own mouth in horror. As much as he tried to stop it, his traitorous mouth just kept going. "Yeah, I got into photography last year. Hermione here, gave me my first camera, you see. And now that Colin's here, we're going to start our own Hogwarts Photography Club."
"We are?" Colin asked, his excitement overruling his previous confusion.
"Yep, Professor McGonagall's already agreed to sponsor us and everything," Harry continued.
"Well, Mister Potter, Mister Creevey, if you ever need a subject to practise upon, be sure to come and find me," Lockhart beamed at them.
"Mick Dungaree," Mick said to the other adult. "Nice to meet ya. I'm here tutoring Harry and his mates about Magical Cultures of the World."
"Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, third class, honorary member of The Dark Force Defence League and five times winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Lockhart introduced himself, shaking the other man's hand.
"You don't say!" Mick exclaimed. "Aren't you the bloke who took care of that werewolf down in Wagga Wagga?"
"You've heard of my exploits?" Lockhart beamed.
"Too right, I have. I'm from Down Under meself," Mick said.
"Have you ever been to Wagga Wagga?" Lockhart asked, for once his trademark smile missing.
"Nah, never got that far south," Mick waved the idea away. "I'm from the top end. Grew up closer to the merfolk colonies of the Great Barrier Reef. Got as far south as Cooper Peady once, with me folks, but never as far south as Wagga Wagga. Met a couple of werewolves there, come to think of it. Nice blokes. Liked their steaks a bit rare for my liking, but each to their own, eh?"
"Indeed, Mister Dungaree," Lockhart replied, looking slightly overwhelmed as most people were after spending any amount of time with Mick generally were.
"Yeah, those two were nothing like the pair of sheila werewolves I ran across in the States," Mick continued, a faraway look on his face. "Now that was a cracker of a couple of weeks. Mind you, the last few days were pretty intense, but then, gotta expect that when the full moon's approaching and the girls were already a bit antsy with the normal effects of being a girl, if you know what I mean?"
"Hmm, oh, yes," Lockhart replied.
"Listen, I'd love to stay and compare notes about werewolves, but I've got a bit of a date tonight, so I've gotta rush off. Next week, though, if you're up for it?"
"Yes, yes, I'm sure that'd be fine," Lockhart replied.
"Righto, then, Harry, Hermione, Col, I'll see you lot next week, then," Mick said with a nod before striding off towards the front gates.
"If you'll excuse us, Professor," Harry said, "we've got an appointment down at the Quidditch pitch."
-oOoOo-
"Why am I doing this again, Harry?" Hermione asked, worry clear in her voice.
"Because last year we only managed the one lesson. This year, I'm going to make sure that you learn how to fly," Harry told her.
"But I don't really want to, Harry. You know I hate heights," she retorted.
With a nod, Harry motioned for her to mount the broom behind him. "That's why we're taking it easy. Today, all you have to do is sit behind me and hold on. Just like last time. Next time, you'll steer and I'll hold on right behind you."
His smile widened as he felt his friend finally comply with his wishes. Her arms snaked around his torso and he involuntarily tensed before forcing himself to relax.
You'd think that after all of the hugs Hermione gave me when she found out about Hermione's Book Nook that I'd be used to them by now, Harry admonished himself.
"Okay, hold on," he instructed, "I'm going to take us up."
With a gentle push off, the Nimbus rose steadily into the air.
At first, Hermione's arms tightened around him. Slowly, the longer that they flew, the pressure around his middle eased. Harry took them on a long, slow loop around the pitch. With each circuit they rose slightly higher until they were able to see over the top of the tallest stands. He felt Hermione's face turn and lean into his shoulder, a soft sigh escaping her and he smiled, pleased that she was starting to relax with being so high off of the ground.
As they passed the Gryffindor stands once more, a series of bright flashes caught his attention. Looking down, Harry saw Colin standing in the very top row, his camera pressed to his face as he tracked them across the sky.
"What have I done?" he groaned.
"Harry?" Hermione questioned.
Turning his head so that she could better hear him, he explained. "With Colin. I've got no idea what came over me. My mouth just seemed to have a life of its own and now I've started a photography club?"
"I don't know, Harry, it could be fun," she giggled.
With her pressed into his back, he wasn't able to glower at her the way that he would have liked.
"But it's Colin! You know how annoying he can be," Harry protested.
"He's just excited," Hermione admonished. "As a muggle-born, everything's still so very new and interesting. And you heard him. He wants to take lots of photos to send home to his parents."
"I guess," Harry grumped before a stray thought crossed his mind. "Guess I'd better go talk to McGonagall once we get back to the castle and ask her to sponsor our club."
Hermione's laughter at his predicament was almost enough to ruin the fun of being able to fly once more.
-oOoOo-
It was a tired but content Harry that finally arrived back in his dormitory. The flying lesson with Hermione had gone brilliantly. She even seemed amenable to taking control of the broom herself next time. That's not to say that she'd stopped complaining about the idea. Quite to the contrary in fact.
Opening his trunk while touching the 'bowerbird' engraving allowed Harry to pull up the cupboard feature and to stow his broom away inside. On impulse, he also grabbed out his camera to have it closer to hand. Then, after pushing down the cupboard and closing the lid, he reopened the trunk to its more normal appearance.
A flashing glow immediately caught his attention. Snatching up the Goblin Postal Service box, Harry closed his trunk and retreated to his bed. He found a single, thick letter with the seal of Gringotts waiting inside the box for him.
Mister Potter,
Please find enclosed parchments detailing the work that has already been completed in relation to the project that we discussed. A list of work that is scheduled to be undertaken in the coming weeks is also included. Please peruse the papers carefully and add, subtract or modify any of the work that you wish to have done and reply as soon as possible.
Regards,
Slipshard.
Potter Account Manager
With a grin, Harry flipped to the first page, his smile broadening at the heading – Potter Haven.