Dropping her eyes as they began to moisten with unshed tears, McGonagall softly asked, "Perhaps if I can talk to him and apologise?"
Flitwick immediately replied, "Before you managed to say more than one word you'd be arrested again and charged with witness tampering. Then you'd lose your professorship, as well... if that's still on the table."
As McGonagall hung her head further in shame, Flitwick sighed and more softly said, "Actually, Minerva, I don't know if you're going to survive this, let alone remain a teacher.
"From what I've learned you were with Dumbledore and Hagrid when young Harry was pretty much literally dumped on the doorstep of his muggle magic-hating relatives. That, on the death of his father only a few hours earlier, he became the titular Head of a Noble and Most Ancient House at the time... as Dumbledore had no right to take the boy away from his rightful guardian... means you were an accomplice in the kidnapping of such a Head. And that could easily mean - should you be found guilty, of course - you're bound for a trip through the Veil or a kissing date with a dementor."
That she hadn't even twitched at mention of being executed, though she did squirm a little, meant McGonagall also realised the chance of her being executed was quite possible.
Finally, she looked back at her old friend with an almost pleading look on her face. She was wearing her heart on her sleeve.
"What do I need to do?" she practically begged. "What can I do? I'd hoped that... by at least apologising to the boy... it probably won't stop me being sentenced... but, it's still the right thing to do."
"That may be," he replied with a single nod back. "However, this has all now become an ongoing DMLE investigation. And that means you are not permitted to approach him in any way, shape or form. I've no doubt that, like me, you were warned not to do that by the aurors."
She nodded back.
"Then you cannot approach him to even apologise," the half-goblin firmly stated. "If you do, you harm your own defence. And that means any possibility of you escaping execution is reduced."
"I need him to know," she softly but just as firmly stated.
"Then, we shall raise it with the aurors and ask them first," he returned. "We will not, however, approach him directly."
That morning during the mail bomb, Harry received a letter from Amelia Bones informing him of the punishment levied against Molly Weasley for her 'egregious breach of the Statute of Secrecy' back on the first of September, 1991, at Kings Cross Train Station.
When he saw the amount of the fine he let out a low whistle. That was a lot of galleons. He just hoped Arthur could afford it, or raise enough money to pay it. If he didn't, Molly was heading for Azkaban until he either could pay it or she'd served at least twelve months of incarceration.
The letter also informed him that, if any of the Weasleys gave him a hard time about it and an auror wasn't nearby to witness it, he was to immediately report it to her or one of her aurors. And it would be dealt with.
He gave a sigh, folded it up and put it in his pocket. Though it would have been something he'd have done in his fake persona, he knew it wasn't his place to inform the Weasleys of the DMLE order.
"Who's the letter from, Harry?" asked Hermione. "The DMLE and it's none of your concern," he replied, before turning to her. "Please, don't ask."
Hermione gave her own sigh, looked down to her plate and nodded.
After he felt he'd finally gotten through to Hermione about the house elves - he hoped - the previous night, Harry went in search of Neville. He found the boy in the House common room reading a book on, it appeared, plants of the Mediterranean.
"Neville," he called, getting the other boy's attention. "Yeah, Harry?" asked the other boy, setting his book aside.
"You and I need to talk," he replied. He gestured to the common room door and said, "Mind stepping outside with me and going for a walk?"
Giving a firm nod back, the other boy said, "Sure, Harry." And set his book onto the alongside side table and stood; heading over.
Leading the way outside and down the corridor a bit, Neville followed and remained silent until Harry began to speak quite a few dozen feet away from the common room entrance. "Neville, I need you to answer some questions I have, honestly and without quibble. I do not need nor want excuses, just explanations. Can you do that for me?"
The only thing that made Neville pause before giving an automatic response was the intensity of his friend's questions and the look of seriousness on the other boy's face. He was a moment before he firmly stated back, "Yes, Harry."
Harry only gave a firm nod before he turned to look more directly at his dorm mate's face. "Both of us have been at this school, as dorm mates, for a little over three years now. In that time you could not help but notice I have been dressed in little more than hand-me-down rags, I've been clearly undernourished and I have scars on my body a normal child, wizard or muggle, should never have. "The Houses of Longbottom and Potter are supposed to be allied. So, my question is, why have you never said anything about that? Why have you not at least raised it with me?"
Neville, Heir Longbottom, knew to his very bones this was a very important question and required a very well-considered response. He knew this question would come one day and knew the alliance would hinge on his answer. Therefore, above any other questions that might one day be asked of him, he had thought long and hard about how he would answer this one.
With conviction, he looked his mate directly in the eye and firmly but quietly replied, "The day I first saw you once you'd returned to wizarding world, the first of September 1991, I knew something was wrong concerning you. Yes, I noticed you were scrawny and appeared underfed. I also noticed your clothing appeared oversized and, as you put it, hand-me-downs. That, alone, worried me.
"That night I wrote to my Gran about you and what I noticed. I sought her advice. However, before she replied back and that very night, I then saw you for the first time in only your briefs and noticed the scarring; so I sent a second letter the very next morning about that, too.
"Less than an hour later I received a letter from Gran at breakfast, answering the first letter, where she told me I was not to do or say anything unless you directly asked. She told me it was not my place to do so."
Neville turned to look away, clearly ashamed at that, and sighed. "I was angry when I read that."
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