Categories > Movies > Harry Potter > A Professor's Apprentice
Walking amongst a haze of emotion, Professor McGonagall's mind was full of cloudy memories of a young boy that used to seek her whenever troubled.
-"Professor McGonagall, can I talk to you for a bit?" The brunette asked, his French accent thicker than normal. Hovering around his desk, his hazel eyes darted around the room.
"Of course, Mister Fournier, how can I help?"-
...Normally finding his way to her by climbing in through a narrow window.
-"Young man! What do you think you're doing?!"-
...
-"You could have fallen, you might have died!"-
...
-"I doubt that needing to talk to me is a reasonable enough excuse to try and climb Ravenclaw tower!"-
...Minerva remembered that he kept on climbing tower walls to talk to her in private, not wanting to be seen by other students. This occured until she grew so tired of it after the third time and said such a sentence as:
-"I hope you still recall that I do have the power to remove points, Mister Fournier, and I can still recommend it to Professor Sprout and any other teacher walking within a few meters radius if you ever try such a feat again."-
(and he never did)
...The young boy who stayed over at Christmas for 'family reasons' but never added context in what such 'reasons' were.
-The boy just sat there.-
-A solemn look planted on his face as he ate slowly. With a swish swish of her dark green cloak, Professor McGonagall walked towards the brown haired youth. The witch was determined to help the lad celebrate the festive season-
-'Well Mister Fournier, I can't allow a single gloomy face during Christmas.' Mcgonagall remembered saying sternly.
Before the summer holidays, Minerva noticed that he always ate a lot, nearly always making himself vomit down the hallway and relying on friends to take him back to his dorm.
-A heaving noise passed McGonagall's ears-
After the holidays all the professors would notice how gaunt he was, and the boy nearly always had greasy hair tied back.
"He doesn't look well-you've seen now thin he is, Professor Dumbled-"
"Minerva, I think you worry too much for the boy... We've all seen how you're starting to care for him.'
" If I care for him as if he's my son, how is it your business, Albus? He's been in the healing wing for three days since he came back. They probably abandon him."
"You see Mister Fournier like the son you never had...But you need to forget him soon. Young Fournier will leave in the next year and his parents will be responsible for his health."
"Stop changing the conversation Albus, Pierre always comes back to Hogwarts gaunt and dirty. "
"He will heal soon, Minerva, but it's best not to dwell on a future you may never be able to control -"
Of course every professor in Hogwarts questioned the young man, (some more harder than others), but none got any reasonable answers. He always told any teacher that 'it was nothing' and 'not a problem', he was 'going to sort it out'. Yet even when Minerva did all she could, the young boy still refused to talk, she provided only comfort to the boy. Giving him love, she accepted him the way that she would have done if her husband and herself had had a child. Truly, somewhere deep down McGonagall knew that she had loved that boy like he was her own...
"If I care for him as if he's my son, how is it your business, Albus?"
'And then he left. Leaving suddenly. Leaving Hogwarts behind.'Signing softly, the professor collected herself and opened Filche's office door.
The cracked door gave way, allowing the head of Gryffindor house to hover above the lost and found. Peering inside she saw the normal stuff. Confiscated items left forgotten, dusty school ties, stained jumpers two sizes too small and...
There...
From a sea of forgotten debris, McGonagall hefted the worn satchel out, placing it in her hands. It was taken from Pierre after they found polyjuice potions of an unknown person inside it's leather interior. McGonagall never knew why Pierre did such a thing, it was out of character for him to break rules. He normally just wandered around the library or anywhere his friend was. But as she knotted her fingers around the bag's shoulder strap, the head of Gryffindor noticed a little detail she had never noted.
In red uneven stitching on its dusty side it read as:
Pierre-Maurice Joseph Fournier P-M. J. F
Minerva held tightly onto the mustard coloured bag like it was the last possession in the world. She shut Filches door behind her, the leather bag know securely under her arm. Confidently walking back to her office, the witch silently thought to herself. 'Wherever ever he is, Merlin , make sure he's happy and healthy that's all I say...And out of trouble.'
Finally making it back to the familiar wooden doors of her office her last thought reached her mind.
'Oh Merlin, I wish I knew where he was.'
And with that, Minerva McGonagall slammed her door firmly shut.
-"Professor McGonagall, can I talk to you for a bit?" The brunette asked, his French accent thicker than normal. Hovering around his desk, his hazel eyes darted around the room.
"Of course, Mister Fournier, how can I help?"-
...Normally finding his way to her by climbing in through a narrow window.
-"Young man! What do you think you're doing?!"-
...
-"You could have fallen, you might have died!"-
...
-"I doubt that needing to talk to me is a reasonable enough excuse to try and climb Ravenclaw tower!"-
...Minerva remembered that he kept on climbing tower walls to talk to her in private, not wanting to be seen by other students. This occured until she grew so tired of it after the third time and said such a sentence as:
-"I hope you still recall that I do have the power to remove points, Mister Fournier, and I can still recommend it to Professor Sprout and any other teacher walking within a few meters radius if you ever try such a feat again."-
(and he never did)
...The young boy who stayed over at Christmas for 'family reasons' but never added context in what such 'reasons' were.
-The boy just sat there.-
-A solemn look planted on his face as he ate slowly. With a swish swish of her dark green cloak, Professor McGonagall walked towards the brown haired youth. The witch was determined to help the lad celebrate the festive season-
-'Well Mister Fournier, I can't allow a single gloomy face during Christmas.' Mcgonagall remembered saying sternly.
Before the summer holidays, Minerva noticed that he always ate a lot, nearly always making himself vomit down the hallway and relying on friends to take him back to his dorm.
-A heaving noise passed McGonagall's ears-
After the holidays all the professors would notice how gaunt he was, and the boy nearly always had greasy hair tied back.
"He doesn't look well-you've seen now thin he is, Professor Dumbled-"
"Minerva, I think you worry too much for the boy... We've all seen how you're starting to care for him.'
" If I care for him as if he's my son, how is it your business, Albus? He's been in the healing wing for three days since he came back. They probably abandon him."
"You see Mister Fournier like the son you never had...But you need to forget him soon. Young Fournier will leave in the next year and his parents will be responsible for his health."
"Stop changing the conversation Albus, Pierre always comes back to Hogwarts gaunt and dirty. "
"He will heal soon, Minerva, but it's best not to dwell on a future you may never be able to control -"
Of course every professor in Hogwarts questioned the young man, (some more harder than others), but none got any reasonable answers. He always told any teacher that 'it was nothing' and 'not a problem', he was 'going to sort it out'. Yet even when Minerva did all she could, the young boy still refused to talk, she provided only comfort to the boy. Giving him love, she accepted him the way that she would have done if her husband and herself had had a child. Truly, somewhere deep down McGonagall knew that she had loved that boy like he was her own...
"If I care for him as if he's my son, how is it your business, Albus?"
'And then he left. Leaving suddenly. Leaving Hogwarts behind.'Signing softly, the professor collected herself and opened Filche's office door.
The cracked door gave way, allowing the head of Gryffindor house to hover above the lost and found. Peering inside she saw the normal stuff. Confiscated items left forgotten, dusty school ties, stained jumpers two sizes too small and...
There...
From a sea of forgotten debris, McGonagall hefted the worn satchel out, placing it in her hands. It was taken from Pierre after they found polyjuice potions of an unknown person inside it's leather interior. McGonagall never knew why Pierre did such a thing, it was out of character for him to break rules. He normally just wandered around the library or anywhere his friend was. But as she knotted her fingers around the bag's shoulder strap, the head of Gryffindor noticed a little detail she had never noted.
In red uneven stitching on its dusty side it read as:
Pierre-Maurice Joseph Fournier P-M. J. F
Minerva held tightly onto the mustard coloured bag like it was the last possession in the world. She shut Filches door behind her, the leather bag know securely under her arm. Confidently walking back to her office, the witch silently thought to herself. 'Wherever ever he is, Merlin , make sure he's happy and healthy that's all I say...And out of trouble.'
Finally making it back to the familiar wooden doors of her office her last thought reached her mind.
'Oh Merlin, I wish I knew where he was.'
And with that, Minerva McGonagall slammed her door firmly shut.
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