The Teacher's Son

Chapter 42

Minerva hated watching her son struggle.

She knew Harry was trying desperately to prove that Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater (a truth that made her skin crawl, she also hated the idea of a child, misguided as he was, being sucked into the disgusting evil that was Lord Voldemort's empire), and she could see how it was taking a physical toll on him.

She'd worried over him when he hadn't shown up to the start of the year feast. The worry had only increased when he finally had shown up, looking like someone had punched him in the face.

When he'd showed up in her office and explained that what happened was just that, Minerva had buried her head in her hands.

He seemed to grow paler each day, and a maniac fire that Minerva hardly recognized flickered in his eyes constantly. She knew he was starting his private 'lessons' with Albus Dumbledore soon, and she prayed that they wouldn't make things worse.

Of course, there were good moments. She noticed him joking around with Ginny Weasley, and his quidditch skills hadn't worsened over his little stint of 'banishment' by Dolores Umbridge. The practices that Minerva attended were surprisingly cheery and upbeat, despite the gloom that seemed to settle over the castle.

Every once in a while, she'd see him roaming the halls in his animagus form. Minerva suspected he was trying to catch Draco Malfoy in some devious Death Eater act. Part of her wanted to tell her son that the Slytherin boy would hardly be so careless, but the oath that Albus had made her swear would probably include that.

It infuriated her. She never should have promised the daft old man that she wouldn't tell Harry anything related to Dumbledore's plans.

Minerva sighed and shook her head. No. As much as she was upset about this, she really couldn't call Albus daft. Though it seemed like it sometimes, she knew that somewhere in that aging mind, he had a plan carefully laid out.

He always seemed to be three steps ahead of everyone else anyway.

When Harry joined her for tea on Saturday afternoon, he brought both Hermione and Ron with him. Minerva didn't question it, just stood and set two more places. Ron seemed confused, but Harry explained quickly.

"What do you three think of Professor Slughorn?" Minerva asked as she stirred a lump of sugar into her tea. The three looked at each other before both boys nodded to Hermione.

"I think he's fantastic," Hermione began, going on and on about how he taught them so well. "Harry's been improving quite a bit actually."

"Are you now?" Minerva smiled a little at her son.

Harry shrugged a little sheepishly. "There are notes in my textbook that have been helping me along."

Minerva nodded slowly. Interesting.

"Well, as long as you're learning." She said.

Hermione seemed a little annoyed by this, and Ron noticed her expression. He suppressed a snicker.

Minerva refrained from chuckling. They were such troublemakers, the three of them, without even meaning to be.

Hermione brought up something that had happened at the last quidditch game and the three dissolved into some sort of bickering argument. Minerva took a moment to glance at Harry.

He seemed to be less sickly in this setting, surrounded by people he trusted and debating something he enjoyed. She remembered him coming into her office after his first meeting with Dumbledore, pale and shaking slightly, and decided that yes, he was getting much better.

"It's psychology, Hermione!" Harry was insisting. "You should know that!"

"I still think it was unfair." Hermione crossed her arms sharply. "He thought-"

"So what if I thought? I wasn't, and that's the important part." Ron interjected. "And besides, who are you to call us out for cheating? You confounded your own boyfriend-"

"He's not my boyfriend, Ronald." Hermione snapped. "And don't change the subject-"

Minerva mentally backtracked in the conversation to figure out what they were arguing about.

"So long as the substance wasn't actually used, Miss Granger, what they did is perfectly legal in the rules or quidditch. A placebo doesn't harm anyone, in fact on many professional teams they have rituals of a sort before games that work similarly."

"But Professor, it's a trick!" Hermione insisted.

"So was buying the entire Slytherin house brand new racing brooms but Lucius Malfoy managed to escape backlash for that." Minerva reminded with a small smile. "Quidditch is a game of trickery and skill, Miss Granger. You can't have one without the other."