Chapter 15
Angry, angry was not the word John was feeling right now; it could be described as a mixture of wrath and betrayal. 'How could she ... that Liar'.
'People say you could never know a person well enough, and I guess that's true for her as well.'
'After spending so much time together he couldn't really find any flow in her, no matter how she behaved she seemed like a kind elderly though strict grandparent to him. Yet…yet why did she do nothing for Alina. Why did she not tell the truth to her family? Why did she not stop the memory erasure of her parents? WHY DID SHE DO NOTHING?'
Yet throughout the day, looking at her as if she did nothing wrong, as if she had no part in Alina's demise, as if everything was normal, made him sick, disgusting.
Now she has gone quiet; she has not responded to any word he said. She just stood there like a statue, her hat covering her eyes. His hand was already near his wand, wanting to jinx her, but controlling himself.
He knew he was walking on a tightrope; if he let slip any of his foreknowledge or said a wrong word, Merlin knew what would happen to him. If he wanted to get any answers out of her he would have to be mindful of what he said. One wrong word could let the whole brain search for him, if the worst happens.
After what seemed like a long time, Professor McGonagall opened her mouth and said, "I am sorry. But—-."
"SORRY, REALLY SORRY, is that all you have to say after what you people did to her." shouted John, unable to control his anger.
"SHE DIED! Do you not understand she died? A living, breathing, talking person perished right under your roof, and all you can say is SORRY? God damn, I can't…" said John as he broke down crying, frustrated, tearing up, unable to do anything.
"Mr. Smith, Mr—, John, I know, I know. I understand that you are at a loss, but trust me, trust me, we didn't know about it till… till it happened," said the professor, this time her hat unable to hide her teary eyes, crouching to reach John's level, who had fallen and broken down on the floor.
"YOU DIDN'T KNOW? How could you not know? It's your fucking school, you guys run it, and you didn't fucking know." His eyes were red with tears.
A look of pain crossed McGonagall's face before she said, "It's late. You should head back home; it's not the time for such talk."
"I am not heading back before I get the answer… tell me… tell me right now what happened to Alina! Tell me, McGonagall, what did you and your shitty school do when she was in danger?" shouted John before jumping towards her in anger.
McGonagall flicked her wand, stopping him in mid-air, before reprimanding him sternly, "Mr. Smith, mind your language. I know you are going through a loss; I suggest you keep your calm."
"You think that I did nothing? I did everything after I found out. I confronted the headmaster, Aurors, even her classmates… and I found nothing; everything was handled by then."
"You could have done more," said John bitterly, unable to accept the truth, unable to accept that she was not in the wrong.
"I did all I could. I met her parents… I attended the funeral. I was the one who welcomed her to Hogwarts. You don't think how much it pains me knowing she died at Hogwarts and I was unable to do anything? I did…"
"Now stop crying. You promised her, didn't you, that day, that you would try to do better? I heard your little speech that day. Are you really going to sulk about it all day, every day?"
"And if you really want any answers, ask the headmaster when you come to school. Even Severus might know more than me."
"As for what truly happened," she moved her eyes, "John, I don't know. By the time I learned of it, the Ministry and the headmaster had already handled everything," said McGonagall somberly before wiping off her tears.
She now looked directly at the tear-streaked eyes of John, and said, "I am truly sorry that I was not able to protect her; I am truly sorry that I was unaware of what she was going through. I know apologies are not enough, but I can assure you something like this will never happen again as long as I am present at Hogwarts."
"Keep your empty apologies to yourself, Professor," said John, who had been released from the spell and walked off.
The professor sighed, looking at the retreating back of John, who did not look like the kid she spent the day with. 'He has already grown so much for his age, all because of the pain.' Then she turned around and walked off.
The chill of the Scottish twilight clung to Professor McGonagall's robes as she walked; each step across the empty halls of Hogwarts felt like pulling a heavy weight through the mud.
'What did you do, Professor?'
The words echoed in her mind with the rhythmic, brutal consistency of a metronome. Alina, a life cut short because the institution failed her. John Smith, a boy with the eyes of someone who sees much.
She closed her eyes, fighting the urge to lean against the ancient stone walls of the school. Still, she moved across the hall towards her office, and just as she was about to enter the office—
"Minerva."
Albus Dumbledore stood ten feet away, his half-moon spectacles catching the warm light of the moon. He looked as serene as ever, a stark contrast to the storm raging beneath her own skin.
"Albus," her voice was tight. "You are out late."
"One might say the same of you," Dumbledore said calmly. He took a slow step forward, his hands tucked into his sleeves. "I trust the induction of our young student, Mr. Smith, went… smoothly? Isn't he from the same place where Ms. Alina was from? I wonder if they know her."
"He is a child, Albus," she said, getting irritated. "He has suffered a great loss. He is confused, lost, and completely unaware of whatever you are planning. Leave him alone."
Dumbledore tilted his head, his eyes gleaming. "Indeed. A pitiful boy… he experienced loss at such a young age. Perhaps I should pay him a visit, help the boy out a little. After all, for a boy so young to experience such a burden, we must handle it with utmost care, Minerva."
"It's not needed, Albus," said the professor, moving closer to her desk. "The boy is strong-willed; he will get over it."
"Hmm," said the headmaster, his fingers tracing a name on the list of students admitted this year. "You say he's resilient, but grief has a way of unraveling even the strongest of tapestries, Minerva. Especially when the truth of such tragedy remains… hidden."
Minerva felt a cold prickle crawling up her spine. She subconsciously stepped slightly in front of the door. "He has been told she died of academic pressures, a tragedy, yet nonetheless a very human one; he has no reason to look beyond that. He will be fine; after all, they all do."
Dumbledore tilted his head, his spectacles catching the moonlight, giving his eyes a mysterious twinkle. "Children are perceptive, especially the ones his age. Often far more than we give them credit for. It would be truly heartening to see him harbor unbridled resentment, don't you think so?"
'Why the fascination?' Her grip tightened on her wand, tucked safely within her robes. 'A Muggle born boy, of all people. Yet here he was.'
"Albus! Anybody could see he is hurting; he is angry at the world, not harboring resentment against someone specifically…" She felt a wave of irritation. 'What are you planning, Albus?'
Dumbledore stood silent for a long moment, his gaze searching hers. For a terrifying second, a thought did cross her mind that he was reading her, before flushing it away. She had known Dumbledore for a long time; despite all his schemes and his strange anecdotes, he wouldn't fall that low.
Finally, the headmaster sighed, "A tragic burden for one so young. We must ensure he is handled with utmost care, Minerva. The last thing we need is a student prone to such… volatile outbursts, especially when he will be here this year."
"Albus," she snapped, a flare of genuine anger breaking her demeanor. She didn't quite like the implication. "I am quite capable of managing the boy without your interference. If you have no further concerns, I would like to retire."
Dumbledore smiled. "Of course, Minerva. Do get some rest; we have a difficult year ahead of us, and I wouldn't want my most… trusted and valuable companion to be anything but at her best."
He turned and drifted away down the corridor, his robes making no sound. McGonagall stood motionless until he was nothing more than a shadow disappearing around the corner.
She let out a long, ragged breath; she trusted Albus. He was the greatest wizard of the age, the champion of light. But as she locked her office door, she couldn't help but worry how strangely he was behaving. He had changed, especially since twenty years ago.