Work Text:
Minerva McGonagall had a lot of regrets. That tended to happen when you lived for so long. She had so many memories burned into her head of students she could have helped if only she had realized what had been going on at the time.
One student that stuck out to her was Sirius Black. She remembered the seemingly random cuts and bruises that she had shrugged off. The boy had been rather clumsy when he was younger. But looking back, Minerva should’ve known something was wrong.
During the Marauders’ fourth year, they had pulled something so insane and dangerous that they’d been sent home for a week. Minerva couldn’t remember what they’d done, but she did remember seeing them off as they flooed out of Hogwarts using her fireplace. James Potter had seemed slightly guilty but also proud of the stunt the four of them had pulled. Remus Lupin had been annoyed and tired. He claimed he was dragged into taking credit for part of the prank and had nothing to do with it, but the evidence seemed to be against him, and Minerva had no choice but to punish him. Peter Pettigrew was awfully jittery and was wringing his hands nervously. Sirius, she noticed, had been oddly quiet the whole time, but she didn’t give it much thought.
Minerva remembered the first three boys heading through the floo one right after another without much hesitation, but Sirius lingered behind. His arms were crossed, and his eyes were pointed at the floor as he shifted his weight between his feet.
“We don’t have all day, Mr. Black,” she had said sternly.
He looked up at her, and she remembered seeing a look in his eyes as she held out the floo powder to him. She hadn’t recognized it at the time; she was full of annoyance and exasperation at the boy.
Sirius had opened his mouth seemingly to say something but had closed it again just as quickly, deciding it better to keep quiet. He took the floo powder with hands shaking so subtly that Minerva thought perhaps she needed a stronger glasses prescription. Sirius stepped into the fireplace and shouted out “12 Grimmauld Place!” with just the slightest hitch in his voice.
The following moments were filled with such eerie, prickling silence that Minerva couldn’t even stand being in the room anymore. She was confused and alarmed at the time of why she felt that way, but years later, after she had learned what really went on in that house, she reflected on what she had let happen that day.