the_debt_of_time

Minerva McGonagall had been one of her favourite professors in both time lines,
though her life here as an unofficial Marauder had changed the dynamic of the relationship
she had once shared with the Deputy Headmistress. While Hermione Granger had been an
apt pupil, perhaps even a favourite of the older witch, Mia Potter was often considered a
troublemaker, and not in the "saving the world with Harry Potter" kind of trouble that she
had grown used to.
"Even if we don't have proof it was Regulus, Professor McGonagall is suspicious
enough that it'll plant the idea in her head, and she'll keep an eye on him."
Twenty minutes later, Sirius and Mia found themselves sitting in front of Minerva
McGonagall, who was staring at them with a mixture of suspicion, relief, and annoyance.
Mia had seen the same look tossed across a desk or classroom to Harry, Ron, and even
Neville, but she suddenly felt unbelievably guilty for somehow disappointing the professor
who had essentially been Hermione's escort into the Wizarding world. She wondered if
Minerva thought of Mia as just a spoilt pureblood witch who was wasting her talent. She
made a mental note to work hard during her seventh year to prove that she was more than
just James Potter's sister. Once Lily became Head Girl, it was not as though Mia needed to
hold back for her friend's sake anymore.
"So, I am to believe that Mr Black—a sixteen-year-old boy—jinxed the broom of
Miss Evans with the explicit purpose of ending her life. And yet, all this happened in the
middle of the day, out in the open, in front of no fewer than eight students?" Minerva
raised a sceptical eyebrow as she stared across the desk, looking at Sirius as though he were
trying to distract her from something horrible that he had planned.
Merlin, have the boys put this witch so on edge that she can't trust any encounter?
Minerva turned her attention to Mia. "Did you happen to witness young Mr Black
at the scene?"
"No, ma'am," Sirius said, answering for Mia, for which she was grateful, not
knowing exactly what Dumbledore's Truth Spell would allow her to say, "but Death Eaters
are marked when they turn sixteen, and it makes sense that―"
"How would you know what age Death Eaters are recruited at?" McGonagall's eyes
widened, sitting up straighter as though preparing to jump to action any moment.
Sirius swallowed hard and avoided her scrutinising gaze. "Because they tried to
make me one," he muttered, ignoring the soft gasp Minerva let slip past the tight line of