Post by amandahleigh on Nov 20, 2005 14:36:31 GMT -5
PART SEVEN
“Where have you been, Minerva?” asked Poppy when Minerva arrived at lunch. Albus was not yet present but Minerva gave everyone the okay to eat.
“I was having a meeting with the Deputy Headmaster in his chambers,” she explained, and Poppy grinned.
“A meeting, eh? I love it. So tell me, before he gets back, what’s going on tomorrow with Slughorn and R-”
“Code names!” Minerva scolded, and Poppy rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry, what is going on with Rohguls and the Eagle?”
Minerva shrugged. “I’m not sure exactly. Horace…er, Rohguls, is going to disappear. The Eagle will turn up near Albus’ office sometime after dinner, and he will, I assume, take her to you. She will only remember talking to Slu—Rohguls, and then she will recall someone else entering, and that’s it. Don’t work too hard to cure her, now, Poppy.”
The nurse couldn’t help but laugh in response. “Oh, I won’t.” Poppy paused, then turned serious. “My goodness, McMin! I’ve just realized we’ve forgotten something!”
“What?” asked Minerva, eyes wide.
“He doesn’t have a codename yet! And we can’t all go around calling him ‘lover’ as you do.”
Minerva raised any eyebrow. “Can’t you?”
“No! We need…something. Bumblebee is too obvious. AlbDum?”
Minerva shook her head, and suddenly she smiled. “I’ve got it! We’ll call him the Defective Detective.”
Poppy giggled and leaned back in her chair. “I like it.”
Before Minerva could reply, Albus entered the Great Hall and the women ceased their discussion. As a matter of fact, all talking ceased. Minerva took that moment to look around the table. The students, most of them anyway, had already left on Christmas break, as the holiday would fall on Sunday and it was already Tuesday. They were getting two weeks off for holiday break. It was for this reason that they sat at the smaller table in the middle of the hall, the lot of them. And Minerva figured that with the exception of the six students present, everyone at the table was discussing the ‘mystery,’ as surely they would all know about it by now, even if they were not involved. Filius Flitwick and Pomona Sprout were whispering. Horace Slughorn and Rolanda Hooch were chuckling. Wickett Vector and Cicely Sinistra, the two newest professors, were talking to Hope Merrythought, and young Hagrid, absent Ogg’s assistant groundskeeper, was chatting with Spike Kettleburn, the Care of Magical Creatures professor. Many of the professors would be leaving on Friday to go home for the remainder of the holidays (and Headmaster Dippet, who’d already left, would be returning in one week), which is why Minerva (and the mystery) had to move fast.
Albus took his regular seat beside Minerva and greeted everyone at the table. “And how are you all doing?” He asked the six students, and in response he got two shrugs, one half-smile, and an “Okay, I guess.” The tallest boy at the table did not react, and the first-year Hufflepuff girl looked on the verge of tears. “Okay.” Said Albus, slowly. “It’s almost Christmas, children! Cheer up! It won’t be so bad, here. We always decorate so nicely.”
“Even Headmaster Dippet got to leave for the holiday,” said the tall boy, frowning.
“You’ve never been here for Christmas before, have you, Montague?” asked Minerva gently.
“No, I have not,” snapped Montague, who’s nearly shoulder length brown hair was hiding his dark and angry eyes from the professors.
“Where are you parents this year, son?” inquired Albus, and the boy scowled. “My Mum is on her honeymoon with that Muggle bloke she married, and my father took his wife and their little kids to Greece for two weeks.”
Immediately Minerva sympathized with fifth year Slytherin Seeker Anthony Montague. Her own parents had scandalously divorced when she was seven, and within five years both were remarried and starting new families, and soon she was the forgotten child who didn’t quite fit into either parent’s new lifestyle. She spent many holidays during her school years with Poppy at Hogwarts.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Anthony,” she said gently, but the boy did not respond. There was a moment of silence that was broken rather suddenly by the little first year girl, who cried out, “I want to go home for Christmas!” and burst into hysterical tears.
Wickett Vector stood up and went to the young girl. “You know that your mother is ill, Jayna, and you have to stay here,” Professor Vector quietly explained.
“Please, Aunt Wickett!” Jayna begged. “I want to go home!” Wickett Vector sighed and put her arm around the girl. “Come on, Jayna. We’ll floo your father from my office.”
After they had gone, the rest of the meal was consumed in a rather uncomfortable near-silence. The only words spoken were along the lines of, “Pass the corn?” or “More tea, anyone?”
Minerva returned to Albus’ room afterwards, and he suggested a game of chess.
“Wonderful idea, love,” she said, and they settled in to play.
“Minerva, I have to ask you something, something very serious,” said Albus after he had captured the first of Minerva’s pawns.
“Yes?” she asked, trying not to sound worried. If he told her about finding the notebook, should she confess and declare game over? Will he have learned his lesson about snooping? How would he take the news?
But he did not mention the notebook.
“Before lunch, you came into my chambers. You let yourself in.”
She raised an eyebrow and captured his bishop. “I did.”
“But…” he stroked his auburn beard thoughtfully and used his rook to take her knight. “How did you get in? I changed the password.”
Minerva smiled. “Did you?” She took a pawn.
“Yes.” He claimed the other knight.
“Check.” She moved her queen to take his, thus putting the king in jeopardy.
His blue eyes twinkled with curiosity. “How did you know the new password.”
“Honestly, Albus? These walls have ears. Checkmate.” He studied the board (she had indeed prevailed) and conceded. Minerva announced that she had a busy afternoon planned, and Albus concurred, for he, too, had much to get done.
They kissed briefly on the lips and agreed to see each other again at dinner, and just as the entrance to his chambers were closing, just before she transfigured into her cat form, he heard her say, “Besides, Albus, you should know better than to keep things from me.”
--
A/N
I've decided that this fic takes place in 1958, when all of these people could have (conceivably, unless I missed something ont he lexicon) been teaching at Hogwarts.
“Where have you been, Minerva?” asked Poppy when Minerva arrived at lunch. Albus was not yet present but Minerva gave everyone the okay to eat.
“I was having a meeting with the Deputy Headmaster in his chambers,” she explained, and Poppy grinned.
“A meeting, eh? I love it. So tell me, before he gets back, what’s going on tomorrow with Slughorn and R-”
“Code names!” Minerva scolded, and Poppy rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry, what is going on with Rohguls and the Eagle?”
Minerva shrugged. “I’m not sure exactly. Horace…er, Rohguls, is going to disappear. The Eagle will turn up near Albus’ office sometime after dinner, and he will, I assume, take her to you. She will only remember talking to Slu—Rohguls, and then she will recall someone else entering, and that’s it. Don’t work too hard to cure her, now, Poppy.”
The nurse couldn’t help but laugh in response. “Oh, I won’t.” Poppy paused, then turned serious. “My goodness, McMin! I’ve just realized we’ve forgotten something!”
“What?” asked Minerva, eyes wide.
“He doesn’t have a codename yet! And we can’t all go around calling him ‘lover’ as you do.”
Minerva raised any eyebrow. “Can’t you?”
“No! We need…something. Bumblebee is too obvious. AlbDum?”
Minerva shook her head, and suddenly she smiled. “I’ve got it! We’ll call him the Defective Detective.”
Poppy giggled and leaned back in her chair. “I like it.”
Before Minerva could reply, Albus entered the Great Hall and the women ceased their discussion. As a matter of fact, all talking ceased. Minerva took that moment to look around the table. The students, most of them anyway, had already left on Christmas break, as the holiday would fall on Sunday and it was already Tuesday. They were getting two weeks off for holiday break. It was for this reason that they sat at the smaller table in the middle of the hall, the lot of them. And Minerva figured that with the exception of the six students present, everyone at the table was discussing the ‘mystery,’ as surely they would all know about it by now, even if they were not involved. Filius Flitwick and Pomona Sprout were whispering. Horace Slughorn and Rolanda Hooch were chuckling. Wickett Vector and Cicely Sinistra, the two newest professors, were talking to Hope Merrythought, and young Hagrid, absent Ogg’s assistant groundskeeper, was chatting with Spike Kettleburn, the Care of Magical Creatures professor. Many of the professors would be leaving on Friday to go home for the remainder of the holidays (and Headmaster Dippet, who’d already left, would be returning in one week), which is why Minerva (and the mystery) had to move fast.
Albus took his regular seat beside Minerva and greeted everyone at the table. “And how are you all doing?” He asked the six students, and in response he got two shrugs, one half-smile, and an “Okay, I guess.” The tallest boy at the table did not react, and the first-year Hufflepuff girl looked on the verge of tears. “Okay.” Said Albus, slowly. “It’s almost Christmas, children! Cheer up! It won’t be so bad, here. We always decorate so nicely.”
“Even Headmaster Dippet got to leave for the holiday,” said the tall boy, frowning.
“You’ve never been here for Christmas before, have you, Montague?” asked Minerva gently.
“No, I have not,” snapped Montague, who’s nearly shoulder length brown hair was hiding his dark and angry eyes from the professors.
“Where are you parents this year, son?” inquired Albus, and the boy scowled. “My Mum is on her honeymoon with that Muggle bloke she married, and my father took his wife and their little kids to Greece for two weeks.”
Immediately Minerva sympathized with fifth year Slytherin Seeker Anthony Montague. Her own parents had scandalously divorced when she was seven, and within five years both were remarried and starting new families, and soon she was the forgotten child who didn’t quite fit into either parent’s new lifestyle. She spent many holidays during her school years with Poppy at Hogwarts.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Anthony,” she said gently, but the boy did not respond. There was a moment of silence that was broken rather suddenly by the little first year girl, who cried out, “I want to go home for Christmas!” and burst into hysterical tears.
Wickett Vector stood up and went to the young girl. “You know that your mother is ill, Jayna, and you have to stay here,” Professor Vector quietly explained.
“Please, Aunt Wickett!” Jayna begged. “I want to go home!” Wickett Vector sighed and put her arm around the girl. “Come on, Jayna. We’ll floo your father from my office.”
After they had gone, the rest of the meal was consumed in a rather uncomfortable near-silence. The only words spoken were along the lines of, “Pass the corn?” or “More tea, anyone?”
Minerva returned to Albus’ room afterwards, and he suggested a game of chess.
“Wonderful idea, love,” she said, and they settled in to play.
“Minerva, I have to ask you something, something very serious,” said Albus after he had captured the first of Minerva’s pawns.
“Yes?” she asked, trying not to sound worried. If he told her about finding the notebook, should she confess and declare game over? Will he have learned his lesson about snooping? How would he take the news?
But he did not mention the notebook.
“Before lunch, you came into my chambers. You let yourself in.”
She raised an eyebrow and captured his bishop. “I did.”
“But…” he stroked his auburn beard thoughtfully and used his rook to take her knight. “How did you get in? I changed the password.”
Minerva smiled. “Did you?” She took a pawn.
“Yes.” He claimed the other knight.
“Check.” She moved her queen to take his, thus putting the king in jeopardy.
His blue eyes twinkled with curiosity. “How did you know the new password.”
“Honestly, Albus? These walls have ears. Checkmate.” He studied the board (she had indeed prevailed) and conceded. Minerva announced that she had a busy afternoon planned, and Albus concurred, for he, too, had much to get done.
They kissed briefly on the lips and agreed to see each other again at dinner, and just as the entrance to his chambers were closing, just before she transfigured into her cat form, he heard her say, “Besides, Albus, you should know better than to keep things from me.”
--
A/N
I've decided that this fic takes place in 1958, when all of these people could have (conceivably, unless I missed something ont he lexicon) been teaching at Hogwarts.
