Outtake (post-Chapter 6)

*

Professor McGonagall looks up from the letter she is writing as the fireplace in her office glows green. She smoothes a stray hair behind her ear and rubs at the minor inkstain the quill has left on her right forefinger. With catlike possession, she stands up.

“Yasue,” she says, when the witch steps neatly from the grate. Briefly, they clasp hands.

“Sorry we’re late, Minerva,” says Yasue, with a nod. “Busy day.”

“As ever, I’m sure,” says McGonagall, holding out her hand to Morrow, who steps from the fire in a swirl of midnight-blue robes. “Please. Come and sit. There is tea. I received your letter.”

She hands them cups of tea in the humming, snoring quiet; the peace disturbed only by teaspoons against china.

“Then he is in good faith,” she says, at last.

“It seems so,” says Tanezawa. She speaks matter-of-factly. But that she is here is telling.

“And we have an issue of safety,” says McGonagall, calmly. “For him, and for his brother.”

“Undoubtedly,” says Morrow, voice rich and serious. “Our man was in no doubt.”

“I suspected it,” says McGonagall. “The problem, with that family, is always how to intervene.”

Tanezawa nods, mouth twisting in a wry smile. “Believe me, we know.”

“A complication,” says Morrow, eyes flicking quickly to Tanezawa’s.

“Another one,” returns McGonagall flatly, eyebrows lifting.

“Boyfriend.” Morrow sips tea. “Gregory Lestrade?”

McGonagall can’t help a quick smile. “Ah. Well.”

“We understood from your note that they have both performed well in their exams,” says Tanezawa, sipping her tea.

“Yes. Excellently.”

“Then we have – we hope – a solution,” says Morrow. “Internships are not uncommon in the Auror Department. Lestrade is in Gryffindor?”

“Yes.”

“Well then,” returns Morrow easily.

McGonagall places her empty teacup on its saucer. “But for Holmes? Siger is bound to be suspicious.”

“Perhaps,” says Tanezawa. “The boy will join us in the Internal Affairs Department. If he can present it as a coup, a hard-won application –” she shrugs. “We are readying some information for him to pass on. Not all at once – carefully timed. The operation will be delicate. We’ll need as much as he can get us in return. But this is an opportunity we are unlikely to see again.”

Morrow shifts on the sofa. “To have withstood…our man was confident Holmes can see it through.”

McGonagall sighs; glances up, uncomfortably, at Dumbledore’s empty portrait. “He is eighteen. Soon he’ll not be a Hogwarts student.”

“Nonetheless, Minerva,” says Tanezawa. “We will keep you in the loop. With his brother here –” she purses her lips.

“And this summer –?” asks McGonagall. I saw it in their eyes. The desperation, the dread, resisting his Legilimency.

“We’ll arrange it,” says Morrow. “There’s been a breakthrough in Mysteries, recently. We’ve got someone new. We can use it.”

Tanezawa checks her watch. “We have to go, Minerva,” she says, putting her cup and saucer back on the tea tray. “You’ll tell Holmes, and –” she looks to Morrow, impatience drawing her brow tight.

“Lestrade,” Morrow supplies, calmly.

“Of course,” says McGonagall, standing to see them off. “Send me as many details as you can, once you have them.”

And for a while, when they’re gone, she stands in front of her own desk – eyes fixed on the wooden frame of Dumbledore’s portrait.

So young.

Always so very young.

She shakes her head, and returns to her chair.

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