Resolving a Misunderstanding (complete)

[MMADfan]

Note: Here is a more 'normal' sized chapter for your reading pleasure. I will probably upload more smaller installments between now and the chapter covering Minerva's return to Hogwarts, rather than doing a couple large ones as I had originally planned. Yesterday's update, though, I thought was important to keep together as one unit.

Let me know how you like this!

Part LIII: Horrid Relatives

Minerva collapsed on her bed and kicked off her shoes, exhausted. Lunch, as Gertie had promised, had been interesting. And, just as she had also promised, Gertie did have rather horrid relatives. It was hard to put her finger on exactly what made them so horrid, but Minerva felt that part of it was that they seemed so superficially nice. Pass the time of day with one of them while waiting for a goblin at Gringott’s, and you would never no how perfectly dreadful they were. If it hadn’t been for the fact that she had been seated to the right of Cormac MacAirt and to the left of Gertrude’s mother, the older “Madam Gamp,” Minerva thought she would have embarrassed herself by running screaming from the table.

The first indication of trouble came when, after Gertrude had introduced Minerva to her mother, Columbine Gamp, a tall, reedy woman with snow-white hair piled high on her head, the elder woman insisted that Minerva be seated beside her. A dark-haired, older witch who had just entered the dining room stiffened visibly.

“I am sure dear Val won’t mind, will you, Val?” Madam Gamp had said to the woman, making it a pronouncement rather than a question. “I’m sure that you can bear to be separated from Francis for a short time.”

Val gave a tight smile. “Not at all, Columbine, although I had so been looking forward to talking with Cormac. It’s been such a long time,” she drawled.

Minerva guessed this “Val” must be the Valerianna whom Gertie had warned her about. Madam Gamp turned back to Minerva. “Professor McGonagall, have you met Valerianna Yaxley? Oh, you two don’t know each other! Well, you’ll have an opportunity this week, won’t you dear?” Addressing Valerianna again, Madam Gamp continued, “Val, I would like to introduce you to Minerva McGonagall, one of Gertie’s colleagues at Hogwarts.”

Minerva could have sworn that the witch’s face went into a brief spasm before she responded, and her grey-green eyes narrowed, although she recovered herself quickly. “How utterly delightful to meet you, Miss McGonagall. Now don’t you steal my Francis!”she laughed, twitching something that might have been a wink. “I’ll have to keep an eye on him, I can see now, with all the young witches you have invited, Columbine,” she added in what was apparently her jovial tone, since Columbine laughed.

“I am sure that Francis can take care of himself, Val. It’s we older witches whom you should worry about!” she said, eyeing the anaemic-looking wizard who was standing behind Valerianna. “We do get so bored, you know!”

Minerva was glad that Cormac MacAirt, smartly dressed in a Muggle dinner jacket, crisp white shirt, and black bow tie, appeared just then, and she was spared having to join the conversation.

“Ah! Just the man we were waiting for,” Columbine said. “You got your angels settled then? Good. So nice of young Alroy to keep his little sister company. Quite the gentleman you are raising him to be . . . despite the circumstances!” With that pronouncement, Columbine turned to Minerva. “Professor, have you met Cormac MacAirt yet?” Not waiting for her reply, Columbine took Minerva by her arm and snagged Cormac’s hand on her other side. Pulling them along, she said, “You sit by me, Professor. I’m very interested to hear what my daughter’s been getting up to, and when you tire of amusing this old lady, I am sure that Cormac will be pleased to entertain you.”

So Minerva found her seated across from the pale, spindly Francis Flint, whom she had seen in the halls at the Ministry, though he had stood out only for being so utterly inconspicuous. Minerva believed that he worked in the Department of Mysteries, although she wasn’t sure. Despite Columbine’s declaration that she wanted to hear all about her daughter from Minerva, as soon as lunch was served – and it seemed more like dinner to Minerva; there were five courses, each impeccably served by unseen house-elves – Columbine began to talk with Francis.

“So, Professor McGonagall, how is it that ye’ find y’rself in our happy company this fine day?” MacAirt asked as soon as everyone was settled and the first course, a thin vegetable soup, was served.

“As you know, Gertrude and I work together. She suggested I might enjoy a trip to Cornwall, and she invited me to come stay for a few days.”

“Did she, now? An’, Professor, ye’ two have been great friends, then?”

“Hmm? Well, we have been acquainted for a long time,” replied Minerva noncommitally.

“Ah. So ye’ barely know each other?” The question lilted teasingly.

“I wouldn’t say that – ” Minerva was not sure she like this wizard.

MacAirt grinned. “Of course ye’ wouldn’t. It’s too polite ye’ are.”

“And you, Mr MacAirt? What brings you here?” Minerva asked, changing the subject.

“Quin,” he replied, taking a sip of water.

“What?”

“Quin, call me ‘Quin.’”

“Quin?”

“Mmm, it’s what me friends call me, they do.” He looked at Minerva, a twinkle in his eye as he bent a little closer, as though to share a secret. “If ye’d dare be friends with the likes o’ me, that is. O’ course, I would na’ dream t’ think we’d be as closely acquainted as you and Gertie so obviously are.” His lips twitched as he watch Minerva’s reaction.

Unsure of whether to be insulted or amused, Minerva retorted, “Well, then, ‘Quin’ – although I thought your name was ‘Cormac’ – what brings you to this place?” Minerva was undeterred. This Irish wizard was not going to distract her and steer the conversation.

“Ah, an’ there yeh have it. In a nutshell, so t’ speak. I am ‘Quin’ to me friends, ‘Mr MacAirt’ to strangers and business acquaintances, an’ ‘Cormac’ to this lot. O’ course,” he added, that roguish half-smile returning to his face, “If ye’d prefer t’ call me ‘Cormac,’ I’d not be stoppin’ ye’!”

Minerva laughed despite herself. “If I am to call you ‘Quin,’ you must call me ‘Minerva.’”

“It’s the truth I’ll be sayin’, then, that Gertie brought us a goddess this morning!”

“You never answered my question, though, Quin,” Minerva said as they began the fish course. “What brings you here?” She rather doubted she would receive a full answer, since they were seated at the dining table within earshot of their hostess and several other guests, but she was now interested in his response, which she hadn’t been when she had first asked the question.

“Me ‘wee beasties,’” he said, flaking off a bit of salmon and skewering it and a bit of grilled tomato with his fork.

“Your children?”

Quin swallowed and nodded. “You marry into one of these families, Minerva, and you really marry the family,” he said in a low voice, glancing up at Francis and Columbine, who were deep in discussion about some internal Ministry squabble. “Let me serve as a lesson an’ a warnin’ to ye’, then!” he added in a more conversational tone.

“Your wife is a Gamp?”

“Was. She died several years ago. Can’t let the kiddies suffer for their father’s questionable taste – for folk in general, not in wives! – however, and so I bring them for a visit with their grandmother and her family two or three times a year. I stay for as long as we can tolerate each other, then go on home, where I can bring the offspring of me loins to ruination again.”

Minerva noticed that Quin’s Irish brogue came and went, diminishing when he became more serious, his diction becoming clearer. “You were married to Gertie’s sister?” she asked in some astonishment. Quin didn’t look old enough to be married to someone of Gertrude’s generation – and the children were very young.

“No, her niece. Her brother’s daughter.”

“I didn’t know Gertrude had a brother.”

“He was killed during the war. Don’t you know about that?” When Minerva shook her head, Quin looked down the table to where Gertie sat nodding as she listened to Valerianna and Gropius Gamp, a frail, elderly wizard, were arguing in concert about something. “Hm. An’ she did ask me to be lookin’ after ye’ this week – ” Seeing Minerva’s reaction, Quin added more seriously, “She actually told me to look out for you, I believe. Although she also implied that you might be a desert flower in this wasteland, and that we might find each other’s company more congenial than not.”

“What about her brother?”

Quin looked pointedly at Columbine Gamp before answering Minerva, reminding her that Gertrude’s brother was Columbine’s son. “As I said, he was me beloved’s father . . . and a brilliant man.”

“And your mother-in-law?”

“She stayed on here for a while after her husband died, but she now has a pied-á-terre in London. I believe she will be arriving this evening.”

As the main course was cleared away and Columbine Gamp consulted with a wizened old house-elf, Francis Flint turned his attention to Quin. “So, Cormac. Still doing business in London?” he said heartily. “I haven’t seen you at the Ministry in a while.”

“An’ nor will ye’, Frank. I’m all squeaky clean. Ye’ can check under me nails, if ye’ like,” the dark-haired wizard said slowly, his brogue at its thickest, and he mockingly extended his hand across the table for inspection. “I leave the Ministry alone, an’ they leave me be. Just the way we all like it, now, ain’t it, Frank?”

Minerva watched the exchange with fascination. Somehow, Quin was getting under Flint’s skin, and Flint was so poorly controlled, it showed. Face and neck flushing dark red, Flint sputtered and went to pick up his water glass, but he was shaking so that he knocked it over.

With a slight smile, Quin said, “Ach, so sorry, me boyo, forgot meself a minute there, I did. Let me help.” And with a slight wave of his still extended hand, Quin righted the glass and dried the table cloth. “Ah, but ye’ll still be be thirstin’, now, won’t ye’?” Another brief wave, and the glass filled with water as though it was poured from thin air. “Go ahead, now, ye’ c’n drink it. It’ll na’ poison ye’ – good fresh spring water, that is, none o’ that mere conjury would do fer th’likes o’ me pal Franky!”

“Franky” stood from the table, pushing his chair back violently. Columbine who had missed most of the exchange until Quin began to fill the water glass, looked up at him, startled.

“You . . . you . . . you hedge wizard!” exclaimed Flint.

“My dear Francis, do calm yourself, dear!” said Columbine, rising gracefully from her chair and placing a hand on the wizard’s elbow.

Flint, breathing heavily, turned his head spasmodically, seeking Valerianna. By that time, the entire table’s focus was on the apoplectic wizard. Quin sat calmly, playing with the stem of his wine glass, looking for all the world like a saint, a mild expression on his face. Minerva thought he even seemed smaller than he had, though that could not be possible.

Valerianna rose and came to stand by Flint. “Darling, whatever is the matter?” She turned to Columbine and said, “He has been over-worked lately; the Ministry just values him too much, I’m afraid. He can never say ‘no,’ can you, darling? I think we’ll go take a bit of a rest now.”

As Valerianna was speaking, Flint seemed to recover himself some, and he stared malevolently down at Quin, who continued to look quite unperturbed.

Just as Valerianna was leading Flint out of the room, he turned back to the room and growled at Quin, “My name is not Frank!”

“So sorry, old boy, must remember that. Not Frank. I believe I do have it now.” Quin’s words seemed light, but his tone was clipped and even and carried a slight edge to it. He raised his glass to the departing couple, who hurried out the door.

Minerva was only slightly surprised that the meal continued without further incident. Quin’s conversation was monopolised by the young witch to his left, and Minerva was left making awkward conversation with Madam Gamp on her right. As soon as it was polite to do so following dessert, Minerva excused herself and took off for her room, trying not to break into a run. She wondered if Albus would mind if she opened his present a little early. Minerva sighed. She would wait. Besides, the day was only half over. Who knew what other excitement lay ahead for her! She would probably need her little surprise from Albus even more then.

Thinking of surprises from Albus, Minerva thought again of what Gertrude had revealed to her about Albus’s former relationship with Valerianna. Although she could certainly understand why a woman such as that might think she had found a catch in Albus, Minerva couldn’t fathom what it was that Albus had seen in her. Gertrude had said that she was literate and superficially charming, but surely Albus could see past superficial charm? He was the wizard who defeated Grindelwald, after all; surely a social climber like Valerianna Yaxley could not fool him long. Of course, from what Gertrude said, she hadn’t been able to fool him terribly long . . . . Minerva wondered what it was that led him to stop seeing her – how had Gertrude put it? – to break it off with her completely.

The woman hadn’t been much to look at either, although she was expensively dressed and wore a great deal of expensive jewellery. About Minerva’s height, perhaps slightly taller, although that could have been her shoes, Valerianna had black hair with just a sprinkling of grey through it, a rather ordinary face, greyish-green eyes, small mouth. She had a fair figure, though, for a woman of her apparent age, Minerva admitted grudgingly – slim but still curvy, not gone all to bone or to fat, as some witches were wont to do. Of course, Minerva had no idea what sort of witch Albus might be attracted to, but she had always imagined him with a rather stately, slightly plump, grey-haired witch with a pleasant smile. Someone with warmth and dignity . . . certainly not anyone like this Valerianna person appeared to be.

And that remark about not stealing “her Francis”; what was that supposed to be about? As though Minerva would be interested in the dyspeptic balding wizard! He certainly was a step down from Albus – although probably far more manageable, from what Minerva observed. She wondered what it was that Quin had said that had disturbed Flint so. Quin clearly knew what he had been saying and was unsurprised by its effect on the other wizard. Minerva let out a chuckle. “Hedge wizard!” What sort of insult did Flint think he was making? Quin’s little legerdemain certainly did set him off completely. Minerva had been impressed despite herself. Albus, of course, could have done that quite easily, as well, but Quin’s bit of wandless magic had still been no mean feat – particularly pouring the water in the glass. For some reason, Minerva did not doubt Quin’s word when he said that it was actual water, not just the ephemeral conjured variety. If Minerva were in the same room as a water source and was familiar with it, she could do the same thing – but using her wand. Quin certainly was a man of surprising talents, for all that he talked like a bit of a rascal.

Minerva wondered whether she was expected anywhere or if she could take a nap. There was a rap at the door that signalled it was unlikely she would get a nap. Assuming it was Gertie, Minerva padded over to the door in her stocking feet, lifting her skirts so she wouldn’t trip over them. A smiling Irish face beamed down at her when she opened the door, however. Definitely not Gertrude.

Minerva’s surprise must have shown in her face, since Quin laughed and said, “So sorry to disappoint you. If you were expecting Prince Charming – or Franky Flint – I am not he!”

“No, I assumed it would be Gertrude,” Minerva said, responding seriously to his jest, not knowing what else to say.

“Ah, yes, your close . . . acquaintance,” he teased. “I bribed a house-elf to tell me which room you were in.”

Minerva stepped back, opening the door to him. It was probably best not to be carrying on a conversation in the hallway. “You bribed a house-elf? I didn’t know such a thing was possible!”

“Yep, little blue fellow. Bribery, extortion, depends on your point of view, I suppose.”

Minerva closed the door behind him and turned to find Quin making himself quite at home in one of the armchairs by the fireplace, stretching out his legs and folding his hands behind his head. Well, she had let him in, after all. Minerva perched in one of the other chairs.

“What did you do to the poor thing?” she asked.

“Ah, it’s more what I didn’t do. Or promised not to do.” He grinned impishly, his blue eyes sparkling.

“You are really quite infuriating, Mr MacAirt, you know that?” Minerva asked, but she couldn’t restrain a slight smile.

“I live to infuriate others, but not goddesses such as yourself. And are we no longer such close acquaintances? Is it to be Mr MacAirt, then?”

“Oh, come on, Quin, what did you do – or not do – to the elf?!” Minerva rolled her eyes. This man made her revert to her childhood.

“Ah, well, seein’ as we’re such good friends again, I’ll tell you.” Even without the strong brogue he had affected at lunch, the lilt of Ireland sang in his speech. He winked at her and whispered, “I promised not to thank him any more.” He chuckled at Minerva’s open-mouthed expression. “Ah, yes, I see you are speechless with awe at my cunning. It is the dread of all fine, respectable wizards and witches everywhere – especially witches!”

“You really are terrible, Quin,” she said with a smile.

“I have heard that many a time, but to hear it from your sweet lips – it wounds me to the quick, it does!” He clasped his chest dramatically.

Minerva gave an unladylike snort of laughter at that. “So what was so important that you had to terrorise an innocent little house-elf?”

“Innocent? Innocent? You believe a house-elf can be innocent? Now that is a sure sign of innocence, itself!”

“Quin, do you ever answer a question the first time it’s asked?”

“And where would be the fun in that? People don’t usually want to know the answers to their questions, anyway – or they think they already know what it is. Much better to play a little along the way, don’t you think?”

“Well, as you likely either don’t want to know the answer to your question, or you already do know it, I think I won’t bother answering it. Nonetheless, Quin, I do want to know what you want.”

“Ah – a more straightforward question, but with several different answers, depending on the time of day, my mood, which way the wind blows . . . but the straightforward, plain answer is that I thought your company preferable to my own, or to that of anyone else in this house. I decided to see if I was right about that.”

“Oh, well. I had been going to take a nap. I found lunch rather exhausting, to tell the truth.” Minerva wondered whether she should be so forthright with Quin, but in his own very peculiar way, he had been forthright with her.

“I would say that you will get used to it, but I hope that you never have to,” he replied somewhat seriously.

Minerva remembered her curiosity about Flint and the entire exchange at the table, and thought that she might not be very sleepy after all. “Well, I suppose some company might be nice, but I’d prefer not to stay here.” Minerva’s eyes flicked involuntarily toward the bed.

Quin chuckled, but to Minerva’s relief, made no comment about her discomfort lounging about in her bedroom with him. “If you still don’t mind bein’ seen with me, then, I thought we could take a turn about the garden. Gertrude said you'd expressed interest in it.”

“That would be lovely. Would you mind giving me a few minutes to freshen up? I could meet you downstairs.”

“You look lovely and fresh to me, Minerva, not old and stale as some in this house. But yes, I will be happy to meet you downstairs in a few minutes.” He rose and took his leave, and Minerva sighed with relief. She wondered if she was really prepared for a walk in the garden with Quin, or if it would turn out to be as exhausting as lunch had been.

Note: As always, I love reading your thoughts!

[Alesia]

Okay I guess I am in the minority here but I think Gertie is great. She, in some ways, reminds me of the older canon Minerva - a bit closed off, somewhat secretive, very secure in who she is and incredibly loyal.

I have thought before that Gertie and Albus may have a bit of 'history' together, maybe during the stress of the War after her husband was killed. They remind me of old friends who at some point in time were lovers or could have been lovers but decided against it.

I am not at all unsure that the reason Gertie told Minerva about the other woman was the prevent Minerva from over reacting in front of every one, again I am not sure that Gertie didn't know about Minerva's crush on Albus as the student and she might even be able to see a bit of it now.

I continue to really enjoy your use of the intermixing of present and past. I am curious to know if we will ever see Albus and Minerva's conversation about her relationship with Carson. Or is it my imagination that there are a number of misunderstandings floating around?

[MMADfan]

alesia said:

Okay I guess I am in the minority here but I think Gertie is great. She, in some ways, reminds me of the older canon Minerva - a bit closed off, somewhat secretive, very secure in who she is and incredibly loyal.

I have thought before that Gertie and Albus may have a bit of 'history' together, maybe during the stress of the War after her husband was killed. They remind me of old friends who at some point in time were lovers or could have been lovers but decided against it.

You have a very interesting take on Gertie. As I have said, it's interesting to see the different things that people see in her.

I am not at all unsure that the reason Gertie told Minerva about the other woman was the prevent Minerva from over reacting in front of every one, again I am not sure that Gertie didn't know about Minerva's crush on Albus as the student and she might even be able to see a bit of it now.

So many questions floating around, aren't there?

I continue to really enjoy your use of the intermixing of present and past. I am curious to know if we will ever see Albus and Minerva's conversation about her relationship with Carson. Or is it my imagination that there are a number of misunderstandings floating around?

Oh, yes, we will see their conversation. It is planned for the segment after Minerva's return to Hogwarts, so there's the Cornwall segment, a Hogwartsy segment, and a segment that I won't say much about but that will include that conversation.

I'm glad you are enjoying it so much! Thank you for reviewing!

[Hogwarts Duo]

Hmm, several things stuck me in this update but I'll try to be as brief as possible...

Valerianna...call me odd but her physical description sounds a lot like Minerva...dark hair, grey-green eyes, girlish figure still entact...perhaps what Albus saw in her was really his Minerva...aww. Of course I could be way off base here but thought I'd go ahead and throw that card out on the table.

Cormac...now there's another character I'm not sure I like. He seems just a weeeee bit too chummy with Minerva and flirtatious for my liking. I can see why he'd want to spend more time with Minerva than the likes of those at the table but there's something about him that doesn't sit well with me...again...Slytherin ulterior motives??? Hmmm...

And lastly we come to Gertie...again. I still think she's up to no good.

Seeing Minerva’s reaction, Quin added more seriously, “She actually told me to look out for you, I believe. Although she also implied that you might be a desert flower in this wasteland, and that we might find each other’s company more congenial than not.”

That particular set of lines sent up all sorts of red flags in my mind, though I'm sure I'll have to wait a bit longer to see if they were justified. I'm hoping they're not or if they are that Minerva will put Gertie and Quin in their respective places...perferably under the garden.

Thanks for the quick update. As always looking forward to the next...

[PiER]

Another update! Yeah!

Once again you've got me thinking (never a good thing I assure you). I like Gertie Gamp but just as I thought I had her pegged you get me thinking and now I haven't a clue what to make of her! Obviously there is an alterior motive to Minerva's visit, is she trying to set Minerva and Quin up so she can have Albus all to herself? But that just doesn't seem right.

As for Val, I agree with Hogwarts Duo, I too immediately thought of the similarities between the two but it does strike me as odd that she managed to fool Albus for so long.

This raises another question. What do I think of Quin/Cormac? Is he another one of these tricky characters I can't quite put my finger on?

As always I am looking forward to the next update. The Carson chapter sounds really interesting but I can't wait to read more about the noble house of Gamp first.

PiER

*Unite against Valerianna*

[MMADfan]

Note: One more short-ish installment for today. Enjoy!

Part LIV: In the Garden

When Minerva came downstairs, Quin was waiting for her, leaning nonchalantly against the newel post. He offered her his arm, which she took lightly, and led her through the house, taking a different route than she’d taken with Brue that morning.

“Where are we going?” Minerva asked.

“To the gardens, as I promised. I thought you might wish to avoid the gathering in the conservatory. Valerianna has apparently revived Franky sufficiently to rejoin polite society, and they are in there with a few others – with whom they are in good company.”

Minerva raised an eyebrow at the thought of what such “good company” might be, but said nothing about it. Quin led her down some back stairs to an exit that open at the base of the stairs leading from the veranda. As they walked down the path to the gardens, Minerva wondered if they were being observed from the house, and fought to keep from picking up the pace. She was grateful when they stepped into the garden proper and behind some hedges. From the right angle, they were probably still visible from the house, but Minerva did not feel so exposed.

Quin walked along, pointing out plants and designs, making up ridiculous stories when he didn’t know something. Minerva was still impressed by what he obviously did know, however, and finally asked him how he had come by his knowledge of plants and gardening, thinking he wasn’t knowledgeable enough to be an Herbologist, yet he knew far more than the average lay-wizard.

“Aileen, my wife, was both a Botanist and an Herbologist. She was a Mistress of Herbology and also held a Ph.D. in Botany.”

“Was she Muggle-born?” asked Minerva, puzzled.

“No, merely brilliant,” he said with a wistful smile.

Sensing that she was straying into personal areas best left unexplored, Minerva changed the topic. “And what do you do, Quin, when you aren’t being irritating or insulting your relatives and their guests?”

“You think there might be a moment when I am not irritating or insulting, then? I must be losing my touch,” he said as he led her to a bench. “I am an entrepreneur, I suppose one could say. I own and invest in a number of wizarding businesses using funds that I derive from my Muggle businesses and investments. Wizards like Franky don’t like it much, but without people like me, the wizarding world would collapse around itself, and for quite simple economic reasons.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“The census of the wizarding population has been in steady decline over the last four hundred years. In the last one hundred years, the drop has been precipitous; the war with Grindelwald only made things far worse. Think about it, Minerva. Do you really believe that the wizarding world could survive – let alone thrive – economically with such a small population?

“Wizards do have it somewhat easier than Muggles, of course. Take this house. It has been here, in one form or another, for a several hundred years. Different generations of wizards leave their mark on it, and the current structure would be unrecognisable to the Gamp who built the original house, but wizards are able to do this using their own magic and a bit of house-elf magic. It takes energy, but magical energy, and if a family is particularly blessed, they are able to accomplish any changes, or additions, or what have you, without hiring anyone. They can just draw on their own magic. For a Muggle, on the other hand, it requires several teams of specialised labourers to build a house of any size. In the wizarding world, that is unnecessary. It does help to hire a wizarding architect, of course, so the whole thing isn’t in danger of falling down around you if you leave it alone for ten minutes, and I very much doubt that the Gamp family has personally done any reconstruction or renovation in a few generations, but it is possible to build an entire house just using your own magic and the available raw materials. You see that this house is granite, for example. The granite is all local – or relatively so. The quarry and use of stone may be regulated and taxed in the Muggle world, but the wizarding world is so caught up in regulating magic, wizards can just take and use what they wish, as long as it doesn’t come to the attention of the Muggles.

“And look at the resources that the wizarding world believes are necessities: wizarding publishers, wizarding booksellers, apothecaries, sweets shops and confectioners, wizarding tailors – look at the whole wizarding couture! There is no practical reason for it, as one could possibly make an argument for in the case of things such as books or potions. It is simply a way of setting ourselves apart from the rest of the world. And do you really think that our small population could really support such things?”

“I don’t really know. I had wondered, but I assumed that . . . somehow it worked. Maybe by magic.”

Quin laughed. “I really don’t mean to laugh at you, Minerva, but magic cannot do everything. I am sorry. I am sure I am boring you to tears. You will soon think I’m as boring as the others are obnoxious.”

“No, it’s quite an interesting way to look at things, actually. I’ve always wondered about Hogwarts. I know there used to be more students. I think even in Albus’s day, the classes were larger and there were more teachers on staff.”

“Ah, the great Albus Dumbledore. I wondered when I would first hear his name uttered while I was here.”

Minerva looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

“Just that folk seem to love him or hate him . . . or sometimes it may be more complex.” He looked at Minerva, who was still looking at him with suspicion. “From your expression, I take it you’re in Gertie’s camp.” When she looked at him quizzically, he explained, “That’s the ‘Albus-Dumbledore-can-do-no-wrong and do-not-let-me-even-hear-about-it-if-you-don’t-agree’ camp.”

Minerva bristled. “You shouldn’t make light of such things, Mr MacAirt. I happen to know that the Headmaster values Gertrude quite highly, and if she repays him with loyalty and respect, I do not think it is a joking matter!” She could scarcely believe she was defending Gertrude – but it was for Albus’s sake, after all.

“I may sound as if I am joking, Minerva, but I am not. Believe me when I say that I would not be sitting here with you if I thought you differed with Gertrude on this or any other essential matter. And I doubt that Gertrude would have suggested this stroll if she had not believed you to be unlike the Yaxley-Flint-Black crowd. I hold nothing against anyone who is a Dumbledore loyalist, and Gertrude is certainly the very last person whom anyone could attempt to dissuade from her faith in Albus Dumbledore. Or perhaps it isn’t faith . . . she simply knows him and that is enough.”

Minerva was quiet for a moment. There were so many questions in her mind, she didn’t know which one to ask first. “I think you were going to tell me something about Gertrude’s brother.”

“Yes, I can tell you a little about him. I never knew him. He was a volunteer in the fight against Grindelwald. He went on unsanctioned missions – officially unsanctioned, that is. The Ministry always knew about them – some of their own Aurors participated in them. My understanding is that Dumbledore was a kind of liaison between these irregulars and the official Ministry forces. He helped make sure that the Ministry didn’t interfere with these unofficial activities in any way that would cost lives and that the civilians didn’t accidentally end up in the middle of some official raid. Anyway, one night, Aileen’s father went on a raid with some Aurors and a few other ‘volunteers,’ and he never came back. He was captured and brutally tortured by Grindelwald before he died.”

Minerva was shaken. “When was this?”

“Nineteen forty-one. Just before the New Year.”

“But Gertrude was teaching at Hogwarts then.”

“Yes.”

“She never said anything. She never took any time off.”

“Can you see Gertrude baring her soul to the entire population of Hogwarts?”

“No, no, I suppose not.” And that had been such a difficult year for her, Minerva didn’t know if she would have noticed anything, anyway. It would have been shortly after her own accident in the Transfiguration classroom. And then later, there had been the attacks and Hagrid had been expelled. It wasn’t as though Gertrude could have afforded the time to grieve.

“Well, this has certainly been a cheerful conversation. I am beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t have joined the others in the conservatory and risked having Franky or his protectress hex me,” Quin said, stretching.

“I’m sorry, Quin.”

Quin put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. “Don’t be. It’s all just life, you know?”

Minerva thought she should be uncomfortable with Quin’s arm around her, but it was such a casual gesture of comfort, she didn’t feel she could reject it. Of course, if his hand started to roam, that would be quite a different story. They sat in companionable silence for a while, enjoying the sun and watching the butterflies and bees flitting amongst the flowers.

“I have been somewhat disingenuous with you, Minerva McGonagall, and I wish to set something straight.”

Minerva turned her head and looked up at him curiously.

“I already knew who you were when I saw you this morning. And not just because Gertrude had told me you were coming, but because I had seen you before and had never forgotten you.”

Minerva drew away from him slightly, wondering if Quin was about to declare some bizarre unrequited passion for her – although who was she to talk about bizarre unrequited passions? – when he looked back down at her and smiled. “It’s probably not what you are thinking, whatever it is that is giving you that pinched look, Minerva. No, I remember you, but it is entirely unsurprising that you would have no memory of me. The first occasion on which I saw you, neither of us was the centre of attention, nor would we have wanted to be, and on the second occasion, you were the centre of attention, and quite rightly so.”

“Whatever are you talking about? You speak in riddles more than any other wizard I have ever known!”

“Ah, I believe I shall not risk being infuriating, then. The first occasion was that of my cousin Carson’s funeral. I remember you because you looked so pale and apart from everyone, and also because of the way that . . . . well, never mind. We have spoken of enough sadness this afternoon. The second occasion, though, perhaps you can guess what it was?”

“I have no idea.”

“Where you were the centre of attention?” When she shook her head, he added, “Minerve, la grande dame de la Metamorphosis?”

“Oh, my . . . . you were there?”

“Indeed. I was transacting some business in a small wizarding village near Lake Constance when I read of your upcoming Challenge. I couldn’t miss it. Especially as I had a wager riding on the outcome,” he said with a grin.

Minerva punched his side lightly. “You didn’t bet on it!”

“I most certainly did. I bet on the fair Scottish lass, and was very pleased when my bets paid off at every stage. I probably owe you a dinner or two for that!” He laughed at her outraged expression. “It was also one of the most amusing and remarkable displays of Transfigurative talent I had ever seen – actually, it was, and has remained, unsurpassed in my experience.”

“Hmmph.” Minerva could not argue with someone who said something like that.

“Besides, Aileen had recently died, and I don’t think I’d smiled in months before I saw your Challenge.”

“Well, that’s all right, I suppose. So that’s why you wanted to take me for a walk, then – it had nothing to do with Gertie at all!”

“Untrue! If Gertie had not reassured me on certain points, I would have perhaps escorted you on a brief perambulation of the grounds and then returned you immediately to the loving care – or presence, at least – of the other guests.”

“Reassured you that I was not anti-Dumbledore, you mean? It seems unlikely she would have invited me here if that were the case – there are plenty of others present who already fill the bill.”

“No, no.” Quin looked out over the garden, lips parted as though he were about to speak.

“What was it then? That I would tolerate your foolishness, or that I had a sense of humour?”

“Well, those were, of course, prerequisites,” he said, smiling. “No, she reassured me that you would not be taken in by me and my blarney.”

“Well, that would be hard!”

“Ah, and that I could flirt with a pretty girl to my heart’s content and not have to worry she’d take me too seriously.”

“What?!”

“You see, I knew you’d be offended. I don’t mean it the way it probably sounded to your sweet female ears, Minerva. And those are not precisely the words she used, either.”

Minerva had got up and walked over to the flower bed. She felt like simply walking off and leaving him there, but he hadn’t been bad company. And she had asked.

“I suppose you were right earlier,” she said.

“When? I am so often right,” he joked.

“When you said that people often ask questions that they really don’t want answered or that they think they already know the answer to.”

“Mmm. I still don’t believe I’ve answered your question properly, though. What I said just now probably sounded as though I don’t value your company, and just the opposite is true. I have found, however, that despite my openly professed desire not to remarry or even to date, as long as the children are young, witches tend to find me charming – heaven only knows why! – and if I flirt just a bit, which is in my nature to do, they automatically begin to think they can change my mind and make me fall in love with them, marry them, and run off and have little kiddies together. Not all witches are like this, of course, but it’s rare to meet one who isn’t and yet who is also sensible, pretty, intelligent, and good company.”

“And there’s your flirting coming out. And you wonder why these women think they should pursue you?”

“Some of them seem to think that one good f– , er, roll in the hay, will ‘cure’ whatever ails me and I’ll see the light, so to speak, and follow them wherever they lead. Take Valerianna, for example. If she’d been able to keep me in the same room with her for more than ten minutes, I’m sure she would have tried it on me. I’ve just known her too well for too long to fall for her act.”

Mention of Valerianna reminded Minerva of Albus. “So she is something of a . . . flirt herself?” The two began to walk down the path together, heading toward the hedge maze.

“Something of a flirt? I suppose that would be one way to put it. She is something of a chameleon. She finds out what a man likes, what he enjoys, what his interests are, and she becomes the most fascinating companion he could wish for. Or, in the case of Franky, she provides him with the balls he lacks – um, sorry.”

“I have heard the term before. So she just . . . flits?”

“Flits, flirts, hops, whatever. She does like to convince a man that he is her one and only, of course, until she finds a more promising candidate. Franky is her latest catch. I actually think she may decide to land this one. He will put up with her, she has enough ambition for both of them, he’s smart enough to get ahead – if it weren’t for a few . . . lapses in judgment, he would have been further up the career ladder than he is now. Yes, I think that Franky is just the malleable wizard she is looking for. Not that he’ll ever be Minister for Magic, but . . . .”

Minerva stiffened unconsciously when he mentioned “Minister for Magic.” “That sort of thing is important to her?”

“Yes. Or it has become so. I have known her probably twenty years. She has become more ambitious and ruthless with time. Although it wouldn’t show at first glance. You have to see the full pattern and panoply of behaviour to really get the full picture.”

Minerva wondered if Quin knew about Albus and that Person, but didn’t want to ask, just in case he didn’t know already. Although from what Gertie had said, it was common knowledge in the circles in which Valerianna moved.

“So, you and Carson were cousins,” she asked, changing the subject entirely.

“Yes. Two ways, actually. His mother’s mother was a MacAirt by birth, and she was my father’s cousin. I’m not entirely sure what kind of cousins that makes us, but Carson’s father was my grandmother’s younger brother.”

Minerva tried to work out the relationships in her mind, then gave up. “So you were Carson’s cousin,” she said, smiling.

“Right. Obviously, he was younger than I by more than a decade. His father, you may have noticed, was considerably older than his mother. I am sort of the generation in between Carson and Carson’s older siblings.”

Minerva remembered Carson saying something about his father having been married before and having adult children before he had married Carson’s mother.

“Did you know him well?”

“Not as well as I would have liked. . . . I had the impression . . . .” Quin hesitated.

“What?”

“Just that you knew him well, that’s all.”

“We were in the same year at Hogwarts and were both prefects. We saw a lot of each other in London before he died.”

“I see. Were you in the same House? No, that’s right, Gertrude said you were in the Gryffindor House. Carson was with Ravenclaw, is that right?”

“Yes.” Minerva looked at him peculiarly. Something he had said sounded odd . . . . “And what were you? Slytherin?”

“No, although that is as likely as any, I’d say.” Grinning at Minerva’s puzzlement, he said, “I didn’t go to Hogwarts – and before you ask, I didn’t go to any school. Didn’t you catch what Franky called me?” Quin brushed his hand along the privet. “A ‘hedge wizard,’ as though I squatted in a ditch under a hedge somewhere and learned a bunch of nonsense from some old crone.”

“It sounds as though there is a story there – and I would love to hear more about Flint and why he seems to hate you so – ”

“No ‘seems to,’ he does hate me.”

“But as I was saying, I believe that bell means it’s dinner time. And we haven’t changed.”

“We haven’t changed our clothes a half dozen times yet today?! How scandalous!”

Minerva laughed, and they walked back up to the house together, ready to face the vipers’ nest.

Note: So now what do you think of Quin? A bit different than his presentation at lunch?

[Hogwarts Duo]

Alright ya got me...so Quin isn't a scum sucking hard nosed flirt out to steal Albus' woman...yet. Give him time haha.

Another great update and the information we learned this time around was very interesting. If I were Minerva, I think I'd be packing my bags and leaving the entire barmy family as far behind me as possible. Then again, she might not discern Gertie's true motives for the invitation and that would be a pity.

[MMADfan]

hogwartsduo said:

Alright ya got me...so Quin isn't a scum sucking hard nosed flirt out to steal Albus' woman...yet. Give him time haha.

Another great update and the information we learned this time around was very interesting. If I were Minerva, I think I'd be packing my bags and leaving the entire barmy family as far behind me as possible. Then again, she might not discern Gertie's true motives for the invitation and that would be a pity.

And have you begun to discern Gertie's true motives? I am very impressed if you have! LOL! I actually think that her motivations are . . . I was just about to type something, but I can't, it'd give it all away! ;D But Gertie is very Slytherin . . . and not very Slytherin. Oh, my, if I didn't have a headache right now, I'd write some more. But I will be sensible, for once and go to bed. *grin* (And don't bother trying to guess what I was about to type and didn't -- you'd never guess, I'm sure!)

[FireBird]

Maybe my mind just works in weird ways, but Gertie didn't seem evil and devious to me at all, or even jealous. I rather get the impression that she wants to help Minerva in some way, but being a Slytherin she has to contrive an occasion instead of simply offering help.

Quin seems like a teasing older brother, though I'm not quite sure what to make of his tales.

[PiER]

'Minerva drew away from him slightly, wondering if Quin was about to declare some bizarre unrequited passion for her – although who was she to talk about bizarre unrequited passions?' - This line made me chuckle!

As for Quin, well of course fancies Min! Doesn't everyone? ;D

I like the whole Carson connection and I am looking forward to more. The dinner should be very intersesting!

Oh and I'm glad you cleared up the whole 'hedge wizard' comment. - Another chuckle.

PiER

[Alesia]

Alright, I soo love Quin. I completely get the whole concept that he wants to be with someone he can be himself with (the natural flirt) but not have to worry about the woman getting all serious with him. (It is alot like being married and flirting with your married friends - it is just fun.) It is quite interesting that he has skirted very close to saying that Minerva looked like Carson's widow at the funeral twice now. I wonder if he has the nuts to finally get there before she leaves for Hogwarts. Oh and what an interesting line of work for him to be in, perfect for someone who married into pure blood society and like to irritate people.

I personally think Gertie is trying to setup Minerva with Albus. She is a Slytherian because she can't just come out and say 'hey, you like him and he likes you' and she is not Slytherian because she cares about them both enough to try and put them together.

I completely agree with everyone else - Albus saw Minerva in Val.

Great updates!

[twinkle]

Great updates!!!
I was so happy to find them after I returned from a trip with my granny, so I just decided to let my parents prepare the barbecue and spend the time reading ;o))
I just hope there is still something to eat left, when I arrive...

Anyway: I'll join the chorus - I think Albus dated Val because she reminded him of Minerva. And my thoughts about Gertie's motives moved a similiar lane as Alesia's did.
I'm not sure yet, but couldn't it be possible that she is more caring than the average (ok, rather than ANY) Slytherin? Perhaps she really tries to open Minerva's eyes. But I think this might take more than just show her part of Albus past and confront her with the unique personality of Quin. This man is so... I'm lacking words here. I guess he is very unique. ^^ I'll try to put it in words later ^^.

I just hope your headache get's better soon. And as altruistic as I'd like to appear: Of course I'd like you to feel better!!! (hey, I'm studying medicine, so I can't see anyone suffer), but I'd very much like to read about their dinner... because afterwards she might retire and open Albus' present.
And I'm soooo curious what's in there!

[Jessabelle]

I just read all of these WONDERFUL updates and I must say that I am thoroughly ecstatic at all of the developments. Gertie really does have me baffled and I wonder if she isn't trying to set Minerva up with Quin, whom I love! The brief memory Minerva had of Gertie and what Quin had to say about her reminded me of the way Minerva is portrayed in many fics. I don't mind the thought that Gertie and Albus were closer then friends at some point or another, but it seems too cliché to have her try and set Minerva up with Quin and then sink her claws into Albus. Thank-you for all the great work! Update again soon because I cannot wait to see more interaction take place and I am especially excited for Albus’ present!
- Jess

[MMADfan]

Note: Another longish chapter for your enjoyment. It may need to be split into two posts. Hope you enjoy it -- you get more Quin, more Gertie, and more Valerianna -- joy, joy!

Part LV: Dalliance and Deception

Dinner wasn’t quite as bad as lunch had been – perhaps because Minerva was becoming used to Gertrude’s relatives – although there were a few more guests. The seating arrangement was different than at lunch; Flint and Valerianna were seated on either side of Gropius Gamp, Gertrude’s aged father, and Minerva and Quin were seated toward the middle of the table, with two of the new-comers at the right and left of Madam Gamp. And unlike at lunch, there were children present, Alroy and Aine, Quin’s son and daughter, and a pale, silent, black-haired girl named Bella, who was about six, Minerva guessed. The toddlers were still being fed in the nursery, apparently, but the older ones were being allowed at the adult table. Alroy and Aine sat on either side of Quin, and Minerva sat between Alroy and Francis Flint.

Of course, it hadn’t been an entirely pleasant experience. Minerva and Quin scarcely had time to wash their hands before the second gong announced that dinner was imminent. Quin had changed to a pale yellow sports jacket for their walk in the garden and hadn’t made it upstairs to trade it for anything more suitable for dinner. Fortunately, Minerva was wearing the robe she had worn that morning, which was perfectly appropriate for the occasion – although she noticed that each of the other witches who had been at lunch was now wearing something different. Quin looked quite conspicuous, dressed in his casual Muggle clothes.

He and Minerva stood in the arched doorway of the dining room. Alroy and Aine had already found their places and were looking well-scrubbed and suitably attired in dress robes. Quin hesitated.

“What is it?” Minerva whispered.

“It’s one thing to tweak these folk and quite another to embarrass me children. Alroy’s at the age where he wants to fit in more . . . I am becoming a constant source of embarrassment for him without even trying.”

“You could run up and throw on your dinner jacket – ” Minerva began.

“And have them all think me an even greater boor than they already do by walking in late? Might be fun, but not tonight, I think . . . . You are la grande dame de la Metamorphosis; can’t you help me out?”

“All right,” she said, pulling him out into the great hallway. “But can’t you do it?”

“Hedge wizard, remember?” Quin responded with a grin. “My training concentrated on building up my greatest strengths. I was rubbish at Transfiguration, so I didn’t spend much time at it.”

Minerva bit back her response. Who was she to criticise his schooling – or lack thereof – when he clearly was quite competent in his own way? More than competent, judging from his performance at lunch.

Minerva fumbled to find her wand from the hidden pocket in her voluminous skirts. She pointed it at Quin, and just as she was about to Transfigure his jacket, a plummy voice rang out behind her.

“So has he already tried your patience, poor darling? I wondered how long it would be before someone here hexed you, Cormac. . . . I must say, though, that I never expected it would be this . . . kitten, however.” Valerianna was coming down the broad staircase toward them, Flint on her arm and a smile on her face. Flint said nothing, only narrowing his eyes as he looked at Quin. “Come, love, we do not wish to be late; it would be most rude,” she drawled to her escort, who didn’t seem to be dawdling.

“Come, love,” Quinn said to Minerva, “We do not wish to be rude, do we now?” He gave her a quick wink.

Minerva ignored the other couple, and with a quick slashing motion, she altered Quin’s jacket into a fair facsimile of the one he had worn at lunch. He still didn’t look right, with his open-necked shirt and colourful scarf tucked around his neck. Another swish and flick and the shirt was now a crisp, white dress shirt with a stand-up winged collar, and small pleats and shiny black buttons up the front; the scarf had become a narrow black bow tie. Quin’s trousers were black, so she did nothing to them, but his shoes were dusty and scuffed from their garden walk, so Minerva swished her wand and gave them a nice polish.

Despite Valerianna’s earlier words, she had paused in the archway and watched the younger witch performing the nonverbal spells, but she maintained firm grip on Flint’s elbow. When Minerva had finished, Valerianna said, sotto voce, as though whispering a secret between friends, “My, my, my! Dressing him already; you two are quite chummy . . . . Cormac, you young devil, will you have her reverse the process later?” She smiled brightly at them before dragging the hapless Flint into the dining room with her.

“I am sorry, Minerva,” said Quin, looking down at Minerva’s flushed face. “I have known them long enough, I should have anticipated that. I didn’t mean to put you in such an awkward position with them. I am sorry I embarrassed you.”

“You? You didn’t embarrass me – that nasty, dried-up, old witch just made me quite angry. I’d ‘reverse the process’ on her if it weren’t that Gertrude invited me here and I don’t want to put her in a difficult spot.” Minerva’s lips tightened. “Kitten, indeed!”

“Does she know you were in Gryffindor, then? Is that what they call you all? I hadn’t heard it before.”

“Oh, no doubt she knows that . . . and other things, as well. And no, you don’t call Gryffindors ‘kittens.’ Lions, perhaps, or possibly even cubs, if they are children. But not kittens.”

While they had been talking, the last of the guests had taken their seats, so Minerva cut short her thoughts on Valerianna’s remarks, took Quin’s arm, and allowed him to escort her into dinner and hold her chair for her.

Minerva managed to ignore Flint’s presence on her left, concentrating her attention on Alroy and his father, and chatting a bit with Ella Gamp, Quin’s mother-in-law, who sat across from her. Minerva could quite see why Ella had moved from the Gamp Estate to London. She was pleasant, for one. Short, slightly plump, dark grey hair streaked with white, Ella smiled with genuine warmth, and she clearly loved her grandchildren. Minerva learned that Quin maintained a townhouse in London and that, when he was there, the children stayed with him. He also had a country house in Ireland, which he actually called his home, but that he travelled a great deal for business; when he was away for longer stretches, the children stayed with his sister and her family in Ireland, but if it was just a short trip, their Grandmother Ella took them for a few days.

As she ate and chatted with Ella, Quin, and his son, Minerva became aware that Valerianna was watching her. She looked away whenever Minerva turned in her direction, but Minerva had no doubt that the woman was preoccupied with her. Ignoring the witch, Minerva tried to draw Bella, who was seated opposite Alroy, into the conversation, but only elicited one and two word responses from the girl. Perhaps she was too young to be included in an adult dinner, Minerva thought, trying to be charitable to the child. But it seemed that the girl felt slighted to have been seated across from Alroy and next to his Grandmother – she was clearly listening to the discussion that her parents, Cygnus and Druella Black, were having with the guests on the other side of her. Minerva remembered the young couple from school, although they had both been in Slytherin and a few years behind her. Druella had actually come to a few of the Transfiguration tutoring sessions Minerva had held during her seventh year. Druella had been a stuck-up child and what Minerva considered a typical Slytherin, but Minerva had welcomed any student as long as they behaved. She’d got rid of Tom Riddle when he’d shown up one evening, all swagger and sneer, though. Minerva thought he’d only been there in order to find out what was going on and try to stir up trouble; she hadn’t given him that opportunity. Minerva sighed, looking at the young dark-eyed girl; she was probably going to turn out to be as stuck up and Slytherin as her mother had been.

After dinner, which was mercifully shorter than lunch had been, consisting of only three courses, Minerva joined the other guests in the drawing room. Gertrude, good to her word, offered the whisky as an option for a postprandial drink, and, to Minerva’s surprise, a number of the guests were soon sipping her father’s thirty-five-year-old Muggle Scotch whiskey. She noticed, however, that Quin was not one of them.

After exchanging banal small talk with Druella and Cygnus, who were as opinionated as always and, as always, with just as little reason supporting their opinions, Minerva made her way over to Gertrude, who had been casting a glance in her direction since dinner.

Gertrude smiled her tight little smile as Minerva approached. “I am sorry I haven’t spent more time with you, Minerva. I trust that Quin has not been too great a trial for you?”

“Don’t concern yourself with entertaining me, Gertrude; with a house full of guests, I surely don’t expect your undivided attention.” Minerva didn’t add that Gertrude’s undivided attention would also be quite unnerving. “But yes, Quin has been amusing me this afternoon.” A sly, almost Slytherin thought occurred to Minerva. Gertrude wasn’t the only one who could influence others and play tricks. Minerva turned her head and gazed with open admiration at Quin, who was across the room talking with Pollux and Irma Black. “He’s so . . . amazing. Quin has been a godsend, Gertrude. He is so charming and gallant. And handsome.” Minerva allowed a dreamy look to cross her face before she turned back to Gertie, who was wearing her usual neutral expression, but Minerva thought she detected a slight twitch. “Thank you so much, Gertrude, for sending him to me this afternoon! When he turned up at my bedroom door, I thought it would be you. I was a little disappointed at first, but then after I let him in, we had such a lovely afternoon. And, of course, he did take me on a walk through your gardens. He is so knowledgeable! After what Francis had called him at lunch, it rather surprised me.”

“Yes, he is quite knowledgeable about many things.” Gertrude took a sip of her whisky. “Did he mention he hadn’t been to school?”

“Yes, he did. That’s part of what makes him so marvellous, though, isn’t it?” Minerva turned back to look at Quin again. And he really did look handsome, if somewhat out-of-place in his completely Muggle attire – although the younger wizards were wearing trousers, they wore traditional dress robes over them – Quin’s eyes were sparkling as he recounted a story to the small group of witches who had gathered around him. At over six-feet tall, he towered above most of the witches, and his Transfigured Muggle dinner jacket emphasised his broad shoulders and fit body. When he smiled, he dimpled quite adorably. It was easy for Minerva to project admiration for the energetic wizard. “It was very interesting to learn that he was my good friend Carson’s cousin; he’s rather like him, I think. And so sad about his wife. He sounds as though he was devoted to her; he must have been a very good husband. And those poor, sweet children growing up without a mother, and Quin doing so well with them.” Minerva hoped she was hitting the right note.

Apparently she was, since Gertrude took a gulp of whisky then responded drily, “He was devoted to Aileen. But I think that was an unusual case. He appreciates female attention. As you can see for yourself.”

Quin was clearly being charming and flirtatious, and he had the witches giggling. From out of the corner of her eye, Minerva could see Valerianna, still attached to Flint like a particularly tenacious burr, casting narrow-eyed glances in his direction.

“Yes, it is so nice to see him enjoy himself. He is a natural raconteur.” Seeing the soft-bellied Pollux finally drag Irma from Quin’s orbit, Minerva decided to change the subject, before she went too far, and to ask a question she had always been curious about. She was slightly acquainted with Pollux from her time working at the Ministry, and he had always puzzled her. “Gertrude, I was wondering, perhaps you could answer this question for me. You must remember that I was at school with Cygnus and his sister Walburga. I could never understand, well, this is somewhat delicate, but how is it that Pollux and Irma are their parents? Obviously, I understand the mechanics of it, and Irma was sixteen when Walburga was born, but, well, I’m sure it’s not mentioned in polite company, but – ”

“You are wondering how Pollux could have fathered Walburga when he was only thirteen?”

Minerva nodded and had the good grace to blush.

“The answer is, he wasn’t. Pollux and Irma had been set to marry practically since Pollux was born. Which was much less than three years after Irma was born.”

“But I saw his records – he was born in nineteen-twelve. Walburga was born in nineteen twenty-five – I know because she’s almost exactly one year younger than I.”

“Records can be altered. He entered school in nineteen twenty-three, but that does not necessarily mean that he was born eleven years before that.”

“But the Hogwarts book – ”

“Cannot be fooled. But only the Headmaster and his Deputy have access to that book. Pollux received his letter in nineteen-ten. I was not at Hogwarts at that time, but from what I have been told, Cygnus Black – the father, not the son, obviously – paid a visit to the Headmaster and persuaded him to let his son enter the following year. The next year, he paid the Headmaster another visit, and Pollux’s entrance was delayed one more year.”

“What? Why? And how?” To Minerva’s ears, this seemed even more unusual than Pollux fathering Walpurga at the age of thirteen.

“His magical talent was meagre. Still is, though you didn’t hear me say it. By no means a Squib; but he was a ‘late-bloomer’ – or so his father said. I’ve never seen any evidence of flowering coming from him. The thinking was, he’d be on a more even footing with the other students if he came in a couple years later. All it did was make him a bigger bully, from what I understand.”

“But his classmates must have known . . . some of them must have been related to him, after all, and had known him since he was a child.”

Gertie shrugged. “Children don’t notice some of the most peculiar things sometimes. Or they notice and then they forget.” She looked at Minerva. “You were an anomaly, Minerva. In ways you probably never appreciated, either.” She took the last sip of her whisky. “I think I will go see Quin for a moment. Rescue him from his adoring audience.”

Minerva didn’t think that Quin needed rescuing, but didn’t say so. Within seconds of Gertie moving off, she found herself cornered by Valerianna, seeming oddly naked without Flint glued to her side.

“So, darling, are you enjoying your evening?”

“Quite,” Minerva added, using all of her restraint to keep from adding, until you arrived. Her mother would have had something of a chuckle over that, but only as long as Minerva didn’t actually utter the words. Her father, on the other hand, would have looked surprised by them, but then laughed with her about it later. Minerva wished there were a few McGonagalls there that evening . . . or even an Egidius or two. A Tyree would be best. Minerva could just see her Grandmother Siofre putting this lot, especially Valerianna, in their place.

“Your escort has abandoned you, though, darling!” Valerianna clucked in what was a superficially soothing tone, but which Minerva recognised as mockery.

“Gertrude does have other guests to attend to,” Minerva replied, being deliberately obtuse.

“I wasn’t speaking of Gertie, my dear, but of your young man, Cormac!”

“Oh, you mean Quin? He’s a bit beyond being my young man, don’t you think, Valerianna? But then, I suppose from your point of view, almost everyone in this room is young.” Minerva didn’t normally stoop to making jibes about someone’s age – and age really didn’t matter to her – but she was sure it was the sort of remark that would get under Valerianna’s skin.

She was right. For a moment, Valerianna’s eyes hardened, but then her smile returned. “But you are so very young, my dear, we must all seem quite old to you. Or perhaps not quite so old . . . . Of course, you probably do like old people, don’t you, child, being at Hogwarts with all of those withered teachers . . . it must be a refuge for a witch such as yourself, away from the hustle and pressures of life in London. I’m sure that can be very hard on an inexperienced and shy young witch. Yes, I can see how retreating to life at Hogwarts could be quite the thing you, darling.”

Minerva was glad for her Occlumency exercises. She was sure that their calming techniques were the only thing keeping her from turning into a screaming banshee – or at least having her blood pressure rise dangerously. As Valerianna’s “innocent” comments continued, Minerva deliberately relaxed her jaw, which she had begun to clench from the moment that Valerianna began speaking to her, and slowed her breathing.

Deciding to address only the least provocative of Valerianna’s comments – for why should she engage the witch in any argument, as Valerianna clearly wanted? – Minerva replied, “Hogwarts is quite different from London, but you are mistaken regarding my feelings about living in London. I very much enjoyed my life there, and I found the wide variety of people one meets to be most invigorating. Hogwarts is enjoyable on a very different level, but I have found it quite congenial. And I am not the youngest person on staff there.” Minerva thought of Hagrid; she was not being untruthful there.

“No? I suppose that the Headmaster does wish to hire a young staff – ”

Fortunately – and Minerva couldn’t decide whether it was her luck or Valerianna’s – at just that moment, Quin appeared at Minerva’s elbow. He took Minerva’s hand, and with flourish and great solicitude, bent over and kissed it, looking up at her with a twinkle in his eye before straightening. “I am so sorry, love. I do hope ye’ haven’t been feelin’ neglected. But I see that Valerianna has been kind enough to be keepin’ ye’ company.”

Minerva gratefully took his proffered arm. “It was lovely to see you enjoying yourself, Quin. And Valerianna was very entertaining. Quite amusing, in fact.” Minerva wondered what had possessed her to goad the older witch – probably the witch’s own glittering personality combined with Quin’s influence.

“Ta, then, Anna, for taking such good care o’ me lass,” Quin said, gracing the witch with his most charming smile before turning to Minerva. Before Valerianna could respond to either of their comments, Quin asked, “Now, perhaps a stroll with me before we go check on the wee tykes, me darlin’?”

“Of course, Quin. I have been looking forward to it all evening.” Minerva had actually had no idea that they would be taking a stroll later, nor that she would be checking on his “wee tykes” with him, but she might as well play along. It was rather amusing to see Valerianna attempting to keep her vitriol from spewing forth.

Note: Yup, too long to post, so it will be continued in the next post.

[MMADfan]

Part LV: Dalliance and Deception, continued

Quin led her across the room, but before they had attained their freedom, Gertrude had intercepted them. “Leaving, Quin, Minerva?”

“It has been a long day, Gertie; our guest is tired – and although conversation with Anna can be quite stimulating, it isn’t necessarily conducive to sweet dreams when taken this late in the evening,” replied Quin. “Besides, I do need to look in on the children, and Minerva has been sweet enough to agree to come with me as I do so.”

Gertrude looked from Quin to Minerva and back again. “Good-night, then, Minerva. Sleep well. And I will speak with you later, Quin.”

“I am sure. Good-night, Gertie!” he replied cheerfully.

They finally made it out to the hallway. Just as Minerva was about to say something, Quin lifted a finger to her lips. “Shh,” he said softly.

He led her to the main staircase. Quietly, he said, “I was serious about checking on the kids. Would you mind if we did that first? Of course you needn’t, you can go straight to your own room, if you wish – ”

“No, I don’t mind. And I’d like to talk with you, anyway.”

Quin lifted an eyebrow. “And I would like a word with you meself, Minerva – but not here,” he added, looking around.

He put his arm around her and they went up to the second floor to check on the children. Aine was sound asleep, and Quin gave her a light kiss on her brow before leaving her; in the next room, Alroy was up, reading, a ball of light hovering over his book.

“Alroy! What have I told you about behaving yourself while we are here!”

The boy scowled and made a pinching motion with his fingers. The light disappeared. “I hate Automagical Candles! I can’t read properly by them,” he grumbled crankily.

Quin reached down and plucked the book from his son’s hands. “Then perhaps it’s time for you to go to sleep and put your book away.” Quin flicked a forefinger at one of the candles next to his son’s bed, adding to the light that was filtering in through the doorway. “Put it out normally before you go to sleep. I am trying to raise you to be a respectable wizard.” He hesitated, looking down at his scowling son. “I’ll have them put a lamp in here for you. I’ll ask Gertrude. Just use it, all right, son?”

“All right, da,” the boy said with resignation. “It’s not a very good book, anyway.”

Alroy settled down in bed, and Quin smoothed his red hair back from his forehead. “You’re a good boy with a miserable old man,” he whispered. “I’m always proud of you, my son.” He bent and kissed the boy’s head and pulled the sheet up around him. “Sound be your sleep, now, bright be your dreams, an’ sweet be your wakin’,” he whispered and kissed the child once more on the forehead. Contradicting his own earlier words, he waved the candle out.

Minerva stood behind him as he gently closed the door to his son’s room. The scene, while heart-warming, had also made her uneasy. Quin motioned for her to follow him down the hall.

The room he brought her to looked like an unused witch’s sitting room. He closed the door behind them. “We can go for a stroll, if you like, Minerva, but – ”

“This is fine.” Minerva sat in a stiff-backed armchair. “What was that?”

“What do you meant?” asked Quin, puzzled. “I put me children to bed – oh. I see. You mean Alroy’s light.” He sighed and crossed the room to stand in front of her. “You do recognise magic when you see it, don’t you, Professor McGonagall?”

“Of course I do, but he’s only, what, ten? Eleven?”

“Restrictions on Underage Magic only apply to wand-use,” Quin answered tersely. “And things are a bit different where we come from.”

“He is too young. I don’t know how things are ‘different’ where you come from, but he’s trying to do controlled wandless magic. He will burn himself out – ”

A barked laugh from Quin interrupted Minerva’s lecture on the dangers of young children trying to perform controlled magic. “We do not understand each other, Minerva. I can see that.” Minerva thought that a look of sadness flitted across his face. “I am sure that when you knew Carson, then, you were most distressed at his depleted state, having burned himself out doing magic as a child.”

“What do you mean?” Minerva asked, although she could plainly see his meaning; she just didn’t like it.

“I mean that bloody Hogwarts ruined Carson Murphy, that’s what I mean. His magic became all squinted and tight. I don’t think he did any wandless, free magic after he was about thirteen, thanks to your most esteemed school and the laws of the ‘enlightened’ country in which he was living.” Quin’s words were harsh, but his tone mild; nonetheless, Minerva was taken aback. When she didn’t respond immediately to what he had said, Quin continued, “Alroy has not had an incident of uncontrolled magic – a magical accident of the sort I understand is so common on your island – since he was four years old. From the time he was three, he has been taught how to feel his magic, how to recognise it and control it.” Quin sighed. “I hadn’t intended to teach him so much – or, rather, have him learn so much – but he is just such a quick lad, and it seemed cheating him to teach him only to stopper his magic and not allow him to learn to free it and use it, as well.” He sat down on the arm of the chair next to Minerva’s and looked over at her. “He will go to Hogwarts, as will Aine, because that is what their mother wished.” His jaw tightened and he swallowed. “I do not know if I am doing the right thing by them, but I am trying, and she is not here to guide me.”

Minerva looked at him seriously, brow knit. She remembered well her own magical accidents when she was angry – or sometimes just when she was just tired and cranky – they had lasted until she was at least nine. And she was far from being a late bloomer.

“Come, I’ll walk you downstairs to your room,” Quin said, standing. He was somewhat slouched, and Minerva thought he suddenly looked much older than his forty-odd years.

“If you wish, but I would like to talk longer,” Minerva replied.

“Do ye’ now, Professor? Even though it’s a rascal I’m bein’?” Quin asked in his thickest brogue.

“Knock it off, Quin. I was surprised, that’s all. You really can’t expect me to understand things with which I’ve no familiarity without some kind of explanation, can you?”

Quin settled down in the chair. “P’raps I didn’t misjudge you, after all,” he said quietly.

“I don’t know how you judged me, or misjudged me. But I did think we were getting along.”

“Mmm, until you saw the results of me questionable parenting techniques.”

“I don’t know, it seems they are both quite nice children – certainly preferable to some – although I didn’t have much opportunity to speak with Aine. And your parenting techniques seem quite lovely to me, if they’re consistent with what I’ve seen from you so far.”

Quin smiled at her and leaned back in his chair.

“I’d love to learn more about . . . your thoughts and experiences with magical development in children – especially if Alroy will be one of my students! – but I’m too tired for such serious discussion right now, Quin.”

“Mmm, ’tis fine with me, Minerva. I actually wanted to talk to you, meself. I have a question for you.”

“Yes?”

“What on earth did you say to Gertie? She came over to me, knickers all atwist – though most people probably couldn’t have told that – and dragged me away from me adoring crowds. Thankfully, actually; I was beginning to bore meself. But anyway, she was saying something about me needing to be more careful with you. She made it sound as though you were some kind of vulnerable, fragile flower.”

Minerva laughed. “Oh, I’m sorry, Quin. And I’m sure it won’t get any better after our joint exit, either. I just, well, really, I don’t know what got into me, but I thought . . . I thought I’d give her a bit of a scare, make her think I was enamoured of you. She’s thrown a few things at me, in the most Slytherin way, and I just thought I’d do a little Slytherin manoeuvre of my own. I’m sorry.” Minerva apologised, but she was laughing.

Quin joined her, chuckling and looking at her in admiration. “Well, I would say that it worked. I actually had the impression that she thought you were becoming infatuated with me, but of course she didn’t say so, and after our conversation in the garden, I was fairly sure there was no way she could have any reason to think that. Valerianna, on the other hand . . . I hope you don’t mind that I interrupted your little tête-á-tête.”

“You were my knight in shining armour, Quin. That woman is so horrid . . . she was making a lot of snide little double-entendres that I’m sure she believes I didn’t understand. I was actually beginning to stoop to her level and respond in kind. It’s a good thing you came up when you did, or I might have done something very undignified. The last remark she made was just too much!”

“Why? What was it?”

“Oh, just all kinds of rubbish about Hogwarts. And about Albus. And she managed to imply that I was some kind of shy wall-flower who found London life too much and so retreated to the safety of boring old Hogwarts.”

“Mmm. Not surprising is it, that she would make such remarks?”

“What do you mean?” asked Minerva.

Quin looked uncomfortable. “Nothing, really. Just she has to find something, some weakness, and pick away at it. She is far worse with other witches. She is usually quite charming, relatively speaking, with wizards. Someone wouldn’t teach at Hogwarts without having some devotion to their job, leastwise, that’s me take on it, for all I have never been there meself.”

Minerva relaxed. Perhaps he hadn’t been referring to Valerianna’s alleged relationship with Albus. For all Minerva knew, it was something that Gertie had made up – although some of the things that Valerianna had said were definitely peculiar. Calling her “kitten,” for one thing. And Minerva didn’t think that the witch’s snide comments about Hogwarts were motivated solely because it was Minerva’s workplace.

Minerva stifled a yawn. “I’m sorry, Quin. It has been a long day. I think it’s time for me to be heading off to sleep. But I do thank you for rescuing me from that sow’s ear – and for not disabusing Gertrude of her notion that I’m infatuated with you,” she added with a grin.

“No trouble at all, Minerva. Although if we are to keep up appearances, you may have to suffer my company more over the next few days!” He had a devilish grin on his face.

Minerva laughed. “If it will keep me away from the likes of Valerianna and the rest of them, I will gladly suffer your presence!”

“Then perhaps I might request your company at the party Wednesday evening? I know we are both going, anyway, but it might give me an excuse not to dance more than once with every rich old hag that drools on me,” he said with a crooked smile.

“Mmm, as though they were all old hags and you wouldn’t enjoy the attention! But yes, I will. It would be convenient for me, as well, especially as I also believe that Valerianna fancies you herself – despite her dyspeptic barnacle – given the way she looks at you, and it could give her one more reason to seethe!”

“You certainly did make her an enemy quickly – or am I mistaken, and you two knew each other from elsewhere?”

“Never met the witch before, and if I never see her again after this weekend, I shall count myself a lucky witch.” Minerva stood.

“I’ll walk you to your room as a true suitor should,” Quin said.

They left and headed toward the stairs. Part way down the hall, Quin stopped and put his finger up, listening. He smiled and nodded. “Ready to continue the charade, love?” he whispered.

Minerva could hear a light tread coming up the stairs. She was only slightly confused, but nodded.

“Arms around my neck, then, quick.”

Minerva caught his meaning and followed his directions. Quin put his arms around her waist, clasping his hands behind her. He looked down at Minerva and winked, then gently blew a breath over her head. Minerva could feel her hair coming down from its roll at the back of her head; thankfully, he didn’t do anything with her hairclips. He backed her up against the wall and leaned forward. Minerva began to get slightly nervous then, not knowing how far he planned to take their “charade.” Just then, the sound of the footsteps reached the top of the stairs.

Quin bent his head down, and his breath tickled her ear as he whispered, “Act as though I am saying something charming, roguish, and quite, quite naughty right now.”

“Oh, Quin, you really are too much . . . .” Minerva uttered in a low but clear tone. “You can’t really mean . . . .”

He whispered in her ear again. “Now act as though I’m kissing your neck and sending you into the heights of ecstasy.”

Minerva felt him move his head down so that his face was near her neck. From the top of the stairs, anyone watching would assume that he was doing as he had said, but although he moved his head slightly, his lips never touched her skin. Minerva, feeling rather ridiculous, but unable to back out now, threw her head back and closed her eyes, hoping it looked like she had a blissful expression on her face. “Oh, really, Quin, we should stop now . . . .” she said, quietly again, but loudly enough to be heard down the hall.

Just as Quin was straightening up, his blue eyes smiling merrily, another voice interrupted. “Yes, Quin, I do think that would be wise. You are in a public area.”

“Ah, Gertie, so nice to be seein’ ye’,” Quin said, turning a brilliant smile on the Arithmancy teacher. “I was just bringing the professor here to her room.”

“Her room is on the floor below this.”

“And well am I knowin’ it; we spent some lovely time there earlier, didn’t we, love?” he replied, looking to Minerva for agreement.

Although Minerva had started this whole thing, with her ridiculous comments to Gertrude earlier in the evening, she now felt somewhat uncomfortable under the gaze of the older witch, as though she had been found out after curfew at Hogwarts, canoodling with another student in some dim alcove. Minerva blinked and remembered that she was now a teacher at Hogwarts. She also reminded herself that Gertie had brought her there – under, well, not false pretenses, precisely, but certainly unknown ones, and so she deserved a bit of the fruit from the plant she herself had set.

“Yes, I believe I mentioned that to Gertrude,” Minerva answered.

“Did ye’ now? And it’s givin’ all me secrets away, ye’ are!” He had moved back away from Minerva, but he kept one arm draped loosely about her. “Good-night, Gertie! I’ll be seein’ the fair professor to her rooms now. Would na’ want any harm t’ come t’ her!”

The two started toward the stair. “I would like to see you before you retire, Quin.”

Quin paused. “Yes, Gertrude. I will stop by your room.”

“No, I will wait for you in yours, if you don’t mind.”

“O’ course not, be free. ’Tis your house.”

Quin and Minerva walked down the stairs as quickly as they could.

When they reached her room, he said softly, “I hate to admit it, Minerva, but that went perhaps too well. I know I am a consummate rogue, but I really didn’t believe she’d fall for it so completely.”

“Now it’s I who am sorry, Quin. I hope she isn’t too hard on you.”

“Don’t worry. I agreed to this. And it was funny to see her face. I don’t think she had any idea what to make of what she saw!”

“Well, I do suppose we shouldn’t make it too real. We also don’t want your children to get the wrong idea.”

“Mmm. We shall walk the narrow line, then? You know . . . .” He stopped. “No, never mind. Just a thought. But I had better go before she comes down here to see if I am corrupting your innocence!”

Minerva laughed. “Good-night, then, Quin! And you know, it’s odd, but I feel as though I’ve known you for years . . . probably not a good thing.”

He smiled down at her. “Probably not. But it is good to have a new friend.” Quin bent and kissed Minerva lightly on the cheek, then turned and left her outside her door.

Note: Let me know what you think of it all!

[Hogwarts Duo]

Oh dear...shakes head and wonders what on earth Minerva thinks she's playing at these days!

I fear that her little fake tryst with Quin and her comments to the wretched Valerianna are going to beat her back to Hogwarts and back to Albus as well. This does not bode well for our dear Minerva. I can just hear the story that Gertie and probably others will spin once they're able to get over the surprise.

I do like Quin but I think he's pushing the envelope a bit too far and taking Minerva with him. It's one thing to rile the family members that you really can't stand. Merlin knows I've done that more than once with my own family but to involve Minerva since this is only her first day...that's going a bit far.

Anyway, thanks for the update. It's always great to see that you've been on the board and left us a little treat!!!

[laundry basket]

Oh, come on you guys! Maybe I'm just a little Albus-like, but Gertie can't be all bad! I think she really was telling Min that to spare her feelings! Or maybe I'm just gullible... but, great update! I hope you post more soon.

[MMADfan]

Oh, dear, have I started a Gertie-Gamp-War?

[Hogwarts Duo]

Nope, no war on this end of things...I just happen to think that Gertie has several hidden motives and I just can't find it in my heart to think that she's trying to "help" Minerva by giving her only bits and pieces of a story she knows is bound to cause Minerva some distress. That's just cruel no matter how ya slice it.

And if she really wanted to help Minerva, she'd be open and honest, even though it might go against her Slytherin nature.

Guess we'll just have to see what old Gertie's got up her sleeves. I'd love to have her on a 'good' side and find out that she's really trying to help Albus and Minerva get together.

[MMADfan]

Now I really must write the next chapter for you . . . I don't know if it will help, or not, though!

[Hogwarts Duo]

You could just give us a *hint* if you don't have time to write the next chapter haha. Hey, it was worth a shot. ;D

[PiER]

Oh dear, is another misunderstanding in the works?

I like old Gertie. Can't for the life of me figure her out but I like her.

I also like this new sneaky and playful side to Minerva. It may come back to bite her in the arse but as always it makes for some enjoyable reading!

Brilliant update and I am looking forward to more. What about Albus' present?

PiER

[Alesia]

Okay, everybody knows I like Gertie but an irritated Gertie is really funny. I can just see her coming up the stairs to find Quin and Minerva. And I completely agree that what happens in Cornwall will make it back to Hogwarts way before Minerva does. But quite frankly Albus probably needs to bit of a kick in the arse to get him to move on his feelings. And I still think Quin is fabo.

[FireBird]

Quite an interesting game Minerva and Quin are playing there. Amusing, too, as long as it doesn't go too far. I'm very interested in what Gertie is going to tell Quin, perhaps if he tells her the truth there won't she any misunderstandings when Minerva gets back to Hogwarts. Then again, where's the fun in that?
I'm getting a bit impatient about Gertie's motives here, though.
I WANNA KNOW!
Er, sorry 'bout that, but I'm so very curious.
So, thank you for updating so quickly, and keep it up!

[twinkle]

tigerlime said:

I'm getting a bit impatient about Gertie's motives here, though.
I WANNA KNOW!
Er, sorry 'bout that, but I'm so very curious.

Yepp, I back that up!!!
I'm very curious myself. Perhaps Gertie will introduce us to her plans when talking to Quin *looking hopeful*

Anyway, the game Minerva and Quin are playing is (still) quite some fun in my eyes. And I love his Irish broque. It is so very much like the language I tried very hard to understand in this little pub we went to last year.

So, let's hope Albus doesn't get the wrong ideas (or if he get's them: let's hope Albus doesn't act to foolish) when hearing of this little charade. And let's see Gertie working on Quin's behaviour ;o))

[MMADfan]

Note: I am so glad everyone is enjoying Minerva's trip to Cornwall! Thank you all very much for your comments -- they are a lot of fun for me to read! Now, before I use up all my exclamation point quota for the day, I have one more chapter for your all.

Part LVI: Doubt and Comfort

Minerva was relieved to be alone in her room. She collapsed on her bed. This was what Gertie considered a holiday? A sense of guilt washed over her. It had been good of Gertie to invite her, despite the fact that her relatives ranged from horrid to dreadful, with a few who were merely dull. Quin being the exception. Minerva had not repaid her hostess very kindly. Whatever had she been thinking? She would have to tell Quin to downplay any hint of an attachment when they were around Gertie. Valerianna was another case entirely. That woman made Minerva’s hackles rise. Minerva knew it wasn’t just the witch herself and what she had said to her, though; it was what Gertrude had told her before she had ever even met Valerianna Crouch Yaxley.

That thought assuaged some of Minerva’s guilty feelings. Gertrude had known that that Person was going to be here this week when she had invited Minerva. Minerva sprang off the bed and went to the wardrobe. She pulled out the carpet bag. After removing Albus’s present and setting it aside, resisting the temptation to open it immediately, Minerva rummaged around in the bottom of her bag. She found her afghan still there, and she pulled that out and tossed it up onto the bed. The two books joined it. She felt around some more. Yes, there it was; she had packed it – she hadn’t even known why at the time, but Gertrude’s invitation was there, along with the even briefer letter she had written in response to Minerva’s acceptance.

Minerva sat back on the floor in front of the wardrobe and opened the invitation. Reading it over, remembering what Albus had said about it, Minerva tried to analyse it afresh, with the benefit of today’s experiences.

“This evening as I enjoyed the healthy Cornish air, I remembered our conversation yesterday at lunch and your mention of a holiday. It occurred to me that a few days here in Cornwall might have a restorative effect following your first term of teaching. If you have not experienced the landscape here, I believe you will find it invigorating.”

All right, Minerva noted again that it had been Gertie who had originally suggested a holiday, not Minerva, although she had agreed she might take one. Clearly Gertrude had already been contemplating this invitation at that time. Although whether she had come up with the idea only then, at lunch, or earlier, Minerva couldn’t say. Albus seemed to think that Gertie had genuinely believed she needed a holiday, but Minerva still wasn’t convinced of that. And that bit about a “restorative effect” – what was that to mean? She had looked rather dreadful under her Glamour, but Gertie was an Arithmancer and, from what Minerva could tell, not particularly adept with charms, let alone with Glamours. It was unlikely that Gertie had noticed how she had really looked, despite having declared her “peaky.” Minerva did not believe that Gertie had asked her here to help her recover from a term of teaching. What she had meant by “restorative effect” remained a puzzle – of course, they could be empty words, with no meaning whatsoever. And invigorating? If being irritated was invigorating, Minerva supposed she had been quite invigorated, indeed!

“With this in mind, I would like to invite you to visit the Gamp family home next week. If you are so inclined, the ribbon with which this letter is tied is a Portkey set for activation between 8.00 and 8.30 on the morning of Monday the eighth of July. If you are able to accept this invitation, the Portkey may be used at any point within that half-hour with the password ‘ducere.’”

This said nothing to her. “Gamp family home.” Perhaps that meant she wanted her to meet her family? Albus had commented that Gertie was emphasising the familial aspect of the home, after all. But whom did Gertie consider her family? Almost everyone at the table last night, with the exception of Minerva and, perhaps, Flint, had been related to her by blood or marriage. Minerva supposed that her niece and nephew – such a strange thought, that Gertrude was Alroy and Aine’s aunt – were her relatives, and that Gertie would therefore likely consider Quin a relative, as well. Gertrude was the only one there who called him “Quin.” In fact, if Minerva had been paying more attention, she would have realised earlier that Gertrude had even introduced him properly – Cormac Quin-something MacAirt. She would have to ask him his full name again. She could completely understand not wanting to be called “Cormac,” though. What were his parents thinking? “Cormac MacAirt” would be a tough name to be saddled with . . . although perhaps it was a family name, and he was actually descended from the original Cormac mac Airt. Anything was possible, Minerva supposed.

And what of Valerianna? She was Gertrude’s husband’s cousin, but did that mean Gertie considered the witch a relative? With all of the intermarriage amongst pure-blood families, Valerianna could also be related to Gertrude in some other way, as well, although Gertrude had only mentioned the connection with her late husband.

“I hope to hear from you by return owl that you will be able to accept my invitation. There are various family members visiting, so I believe that you would not fail to find some conversations of interest while you are here.”

Well, that much was true: there had been no dearth of interesting conversations.

Minerva was sure of it now: Gertie had intended all along that she meet and talk with Valerianna. That raised more questions, the first one was obviously, why? Secondly, had Gertie been completely disingenuous with her that morning out by the hill fort, or had she really believed when she’d issued the invitation that Valerianna might be arriving later in the week? Beyond that, was what Gertrude told her about Valerianna and Albus the truth? And even if it was, how much of the truth had she omitted? And what role was Quin playing in all this? Gertie had asked him to show Minerva the gardens, after all. And according to Quin, Gertrude had told him that Minerva was unlikely to be taken in by his flirtation. Although perhaps that was only Quin’s interpretation of what Gertrude had said, and he was mistaken. How much could she trust anything Quin told her, let alone his interpretations of what Gertrude said? Was Quin actually working with Gertie on whatever it was she was after? Minerva wanted to trust Quin, but she hardly knew him. Most of all, what could Gertrude’s motives be in all this? She had to want something.

Minerva sighed. That was why her own attempt to turn the tables on Gertie that evening had not worked out very well. Minerva had no particular goal in mind except to create an illusion and possibly surprise Gertrude. A true Slytherin didn’t set about orchestrating events without being clear about why she was doing it and what her end goal would be. And it would have to be for some objective greater than simply making someone uncomfortable – at least if it would if it required much effort or any risk. No, there would have had to have been a reason to make the person uncomfortable, a reason that fit in with a greater goal, which in turn contributed to reaching some even larger objective. Minerva didn't really have a reason.

Try as she might, Minerva doubted she would ever be able to figure out what Gertrude was playing at in inviting her down here. She just didn’t know Gertrude well enough; she wouldn’t be able to deduce what her goal or her overall objectives were. And without that, Minerva thought she would never understand why it was that Gertie had invited her here, at this time, with these people. Minerva sighed. She would just have to be alert. And it wouldn’t hurt to make note of things others said that were consistent or inconsistent with what Gertrude – and Quin – told her.

Minerva wanted to like Quin. He was funny and easy to be with, and obviously very bright, as well. Despite his peculiar magical training, he was also fairly powerful, Minerva thought. Strange what he had told her about Alroy – and about Carson. Clearly, Carson’s magic was quite strong; he had been a talented wizard. If Carson had done magic similar to that practiced by Quin, and now by Alroy, it must be true that in at least some cases, under certain conditions, it was not harmful for children under ten or eleven to practice controlled magic. It went against everything she had been taught. But considering what Quin had said about the laws and customs of England – and Scotland – it made sense that if the Ministry wanted to control the use of magic, they would restrict the use of wands for underage wizards and, in order even better to regulate it, ensure that young witches and wizards did not learn how to practice wandless magic.

From Minerva’s previous understanding of the matter, wandless magic was much harder because the witch or wizard had no tool through which to focus their power. But what if it was simply that one became so used to using a wand that one could no longer do – what was it Quin called it? – “free” magic. Learning to perform spells – or practice free magic – without a wand would be much more difficult for a witch or wizard who had always learned to do everything with a wand. Minerva remembered Albus telling her once during her Animagus training that she had to stop thinking of her wand as the thing that allowed her to do magic. They had begun doing the wandless Animagus Transfiguration exercises that were the necessary final step to actually completing the full Animagus transformation. He had made Minerva spend an entire week without her wand, only letting her use it when she was actually in a class in which its use was required. It had been an odd experience . . . odder even than learning to do magic that required no incantation. As a rather cerebral child, it had seemed more natural to use pure intention without a spell than to cast a spell without a wand. When she returned to Hogwarts, she would have to talk to Albus about all this. Surely with his experience, he must be familiar with magic practiced this way.

Thinking of Albus reminded Minerva of his present. She picked it up and stood. She would wait until she was ready for bed before she opened it, she decided, and gratefully peeled off her robes.

Once she had washed and changed into her nightgown, Minerva sat down on the bed and held the parcel in her lap. She remembered how cheerfully Albus had given it to her just that morning, and how sweetly he had kissed her good-bye before she Portkeyed away. How could her Albus – well, he wasn’t precisely hers, but the Albus she knew – how could he have ever been involved with that horrid woman? It made Minerva feel rather sick. It had been bad enough when Gertrude had first told her about it, but then after meeting the witch . . . .

Minerva shook herself. If Gertrude or someone had told her about the situation with Albus and that woman only after Minerva had met Valerianna, perhaps Minerva’s feelings toward the witch would have been different. Perhaps everything that Valerianna had said and done was coloured by Minerva’s prejudgment of her, all based on what Gertrude had told her just a few hours before.

Minerva tried to look at Valerianna objectively. She really wasn’t all that bad looking, Minerva supposed, although if she weren’t wearing dress robes and expensive jewellery and a few layers of make-up charms, she would be rather plain. Her manner of speaking was off-putting to Minerva; aside from the insults that Minerva had perceived, Valerianna just seemed dull – a socialite with little to say. But Quin had told her that Valerianna was like a chameleon and that she could make herself interesting to whatever wizard she was with. No doubt as a young witch, and one with nothing to offer her, Minerva simply wasn’t worth the effort for Valerianna to become interesting. Gertie, too, had said that she was intelligent. Of course, she also had money and social standing, but Minerva was fairly certain that those were two things that would never motivate Albus’s interest.

On the other hand, what did Minerva know of Albus? Simply because Minerva knew one side of his personality did not mean that Albus’s taste in women – of which she had known nothing until today – was in line with what else she knew of him. Minerva had known one happily married wizard, who worked in the Department of Ministries and was reputed to be quite brilliant and powerful, whose wife was an untalented, very ordinary witch with unspectacular looks. She was pleasant, though, warm and friendly. Minerva could imagine that she had personal qualities that quite made up for any deficiencies in intelligence or magic. If Valerianna was intelligent, and possibly talented – although Minerva had no way to judge that – perhaps that had off-set her less than pleasant personality for Albus. Of course, Valerianna was also quite sociable and out-going. Far more so than Minerva herself, and Albus was fairly out-going. He was not very revealing, though, Minerva thought with a sigh.

She wished she had had some clue that Albus had been seeing this witch. For all Minerva knew, Albus could be seeing someone now, perhaps at that very moment. Doubtful, but possible. It could be that Valerianna was one of many witches with whom Albus had kept company over the years. Minerva had no idea, and it bothered her.

She looked at the brown wrapped parcel on her lap, almost not wanting to open it any more. But then she reminded herself of Albus’s expression when he had given it to her before breakfast, and of his pink-cheeked smile when he said good-bye to her when she left . . . and of his kiss. Albus had always been good to her, and when he realised that she had felt neglected by him, he had gone out of his way to remedy it. Minerva remembered his lists, which he had made never dreaming that she might see them. He enjoyed spending time with her. He valued her. He wanted her there at Hogwarts with him. And Minerva remembered the tears in Albus’s eyes when he had confessed, just two days ago, that when he had heard her harsh words, he had been afraid that she hated him. And yet he had put aside his own fear and hurt feelings and worked to make her feel better.

Tears entered her own eyes, then. What did it matter that he had never mentioned the Yaxley woman to her? It had only been a few months – Valerianna had clearly made more of it than Albus had. It shouldn’t matter that Albus hadn’t shared that with her, Minerva thought. And now that they were both at Hogwarts, and she was an adult, not a student in his care, they were becoming closer. Surely, as a friend, he would now begin telling her more about himself. It had never been appropriate or convenient to have those conversations before, they had seen each other so infrequently and so briefly over the last several years.

Minerva pulled the string tied around the package, foregoing magic in order to savour the experience. As she unfolded the brown wrapping paper, a letter fell out. Minerva opened it up, almost smiling with relief to see Albus’s familiar hand writing.

“Monday, 8 July

“My dear Minerva,

“I hope that this day has been an interesting one for you and not too wearing. You are no doubt tired at the end of a long day, however, and I hope that this little gift helps ease you to a good night’s rest. No doubt the Gamp house-elves could provide more sophisticated refreshment, but sometimes something more homely and simple is more comforting.

“I look forward to hearing all about your trip when you return. It will be interesting to learn what surprises Gertrude had in store for you. I do hope that you get to know each other better; like you, my dear, Gertrude does not allow many people the privilege of knowing her. I believe that you would appreciate her if you knew her better. I also know that she thinks highly of you, and has done for quite some years.

“I shall miss you while you are away, my dear, but then I shall have the pleasure of spending time with you on your return, with the excuse that I wish to hear about your time at the Gamps. In truth, I shall always seek an excuse to spend time with you, now that you have reminded me so well of my priorities, and if it weren’t your trip, I would find some other reason to invite you to share a meal with me or just to go for a stroll on the grounds together.

“As I write this, I find that I am missing you already, in anticipation of your imminent departure; thus, I hope you will forgive an old man his ramblings. I must remind myself that I will be seeing you for breakfast in just a few minutes – that was a most unexpected yet welcome invitation, my dear; I had planned to have Wilspy deliver your little gift this morning, and I was very happy to realise that I could hand it to you myself – you are not yet gone from the castle, and I must not allow my anticipation of your departure to cloud my enjoyment of your presence whilst you are still here.

“Do take care, Minerva, and do not forget who you are when you meet anyone who may be less appreciative of you than they should be. And enjoy the company of those wise enough to recognise your worth. I must go now; I do not wish to be late for breakfast with you, my dear.

“Sleep well, sweet dreams,
“Yours,

“Albus.”

Minerva read the letter twice. It was so warm and wonderful. She didn’t think he had ever expressed anything quite this way before. Of course, when she was a student, he had tried to get her to appreciate her value in the lives of others, but he had been her mentor then, and the tone had been different. And there was their conversation the other morning when she had apologised for saying what she had, but this was different: it was wholly unsolicited and apparently completely spontaneous. What touched her most was his expressed desire to spend time with her and his declaration that he was already missing her when anticipating her departure. Minerva’s eyes misted over as she carefully refolded the letter and set it beside her on the bed.

Beneath the plain brown wrapping, Albus had wrapped the package in tartan-patterned paper and sealed it up with temporary sticking charms. Minerva carefully unsealed the package and then opened the box. She smiled as she pulled out a large green mug. Inside the mug, three jars were nestled one atop the other. The first jar held amber-coloured honey, the second, chamomile tea, and the third, peppermint tea. Reaching further into the box, Minerva found a mesh tea ball, a silver spoon, several ginger newts wrapped in kitchen parchment, and another note, this one shorter. It read:

“Tea with honey can be quite a good tonic, I have found. I included some ginger newts, since you seem to like them and your house-elf will not be there to provide you a constant supply! Good-night, my dear Minerva! – Albus.”

Minerva folded the second note and picked up the first one. She carefully placed them both in the bottom of her carpet bag and returned it to the wardrobe. Bringing her mug with her, she went to the little sink in the corner of her room and filled the mug with water. She returned to the bed and set the mug down on the night stand. After the day she had had, Minerva thought chamomile tea would be soothing, so she opened that jar, filled the tea ball, and cast a spell on the water to bring it up to just below the boiling point before she dropped the tea ball into the mug. After waiting a few minutes, during which she turned back the covers and finished getting ready for bed, Minerva removed the tea ball and added just a spoonful of honey.

She unfolded her afghan, wishing it were a colder night, and spread it on top of the other covers. Minerva climbed into bed, deciding not to try to read anything that night; she was just too tired. Sitting up and sipping her hot tea, Minerva remembered her vow to be grateful for Albus’s friendship. She would not allow her own confused feelings about him ruin their friendship. If it weren’t for her inappropriate feelings, the revelation that Gertrude had made would never have disturbed her to this degree. Minerva finished her tea, yawned, and put out the lights. She fell asleep smiling, remembering Albus’s words, I shall always seek an excuse to spend time with you.

Note: I look forward to your comments!

[Hogwarts Duo]

I am melting into a little puddle over here...

That was the sweetest, most adoring letter and I think Albus is getting a bit bolder with his affection. I LOOOOVE IT!

The insight into Minerva's thoughts on the various occurances was also interesting. It was nice to see her analyzing the various people and events from her first day. I just hope she's right about trusting Quin and I still believe that news of her little 'tryst' with him will reach Albus' ears long before he sees her again. I hope I'm wrong and that the Gamp estate is like Vegas...what happens there, stays there!

Oh who am I kidding??? That Valerianna would draft an anonymous letter in a heartbeat or maybe Gertie will shed some light onto the situation...grrrr.

Great update!!! Now I need MORE! ;D

[twinkle]

I'm sitting here with a glas of raspberry-milk, trying to soothe myself from the adventures of the day.
And what do I find? A great new chapter!!!
This present (and I think I was way more curious about it than Minerva ^^) was so sweet and thoughtfull. And the letter on top was jus so... loving would be the right word, I guess.
Perhaps Albus is one step further in sharing his thoughts with Minerva?!?

I also oved the way Minerva reflected on all the other guests. Hard to believe it was just her first day there! If it was me I would always crawl to bed after such an exhausting day.
Pleaaaase give us more! Soon!!!
I'm curious what Gertie's motives are and what Quin is really up to!

[MMADfan]

Okay, so this isn't an update, but after I had a few people who are reading this story over at ffnet pm me about the names in this story, I worked up this little thing and I thought I'd post it for all you nice folks, if you are interested. If not, just hit your "back" button -- no hard feelings! LOL! (Although you may want to read about Valerianna!)

Selected Names in “RaM” and Their Origins

(Most of these are names that are “real,” and I am aware of that fact; a few of them I have made up, although they may also be actual names. There may be many other meanings associated with these names, but the meanings given here are the ones I was thinking of when I used them, so they may not reflect anyone else’s notions!)

Gertrude Gamp: Gamp is a surname that appears on the Black Family Tree created by JKR; I chose “Gertrude” because it is old-fashioned and sounded good with “Gamp.”

Valerianna: from Valerian, an herb with sedative properties; the roots, which are used in herbal medicine for their sedative effect, smell very strongly like a combination of vomit and wet dog. (Valerian is also the name of a couple Roman emperors and at least a couple saints, but I did not have them in mind when I created her character!)

Cormac MacAirt: Cormac mac Airt was said to have been the wisest, most powerful king to rule Ireland from the ancient high seat of Tara. There are various legends about him, which you can find on the Internet. There’s one particularly interesting story which will be referenced in a later chapter.

Quinlivan: from Irish, caoindealbhain, gracefully-shaped, athletic.

Merwyn: Welsh; reputedly related to the name “Merlin.”

Egeria: Roman goddess of fountains and childbirth.

Egidius: from the Latin version of the name “Giles” (“Aegidius”); St. Giles is the patron saint of Edinburgh and patron of beggars).

Tyree: comes from the name of a small, sparsely populated island in the Inner Hebrides (it turns out it is also a real last name, which was unsurprising, but which I hadn’t known when I decided to use it).

Siofre: a variant of “Siofra”; Irish, pronounced as though it has an “sh” at the beginning (may mean elf or changeling, but I wouldn’t bet on it).

Melina: Greek, from meli, honey.

Professor Dustern: from German, düster, gloomy, dark, dismal.

Professor Birnbaum: German, pear tree.

Madam Perlecta: from L. perlegere, to read over or to scan.

Madam Valentius: from L. valentius, healthier, more potent/vigorous.

Yaxley, Flint, Black, and Crouch are all names that appear in canon. I have borrowed some of the characters with those names; I have also created relatives for them when it suited the needs of the story. By the way, a “Pollux Black” really does appear on the Black Family Tree, and it appears from the dates on it that Pollux did, indeed, father his daughter Walburga at the age of thirteen. I tried to explain this with a far-out theory in “RaM”; I have a feeling, though, that JKR just isn’t particularly good at math, and that’s why it looks as though Pollux Black and Irma Crabbe started their family when he was only thirteen. (I know it’s biologically possible; it just seems unlikely in this context!)

Hope you enjoyed this little digression!

[PiER]

I love that Gertie's getting her knickers in a twist over the flirtatious Quin!

Albus' letter...awww...he's such a thoughtful little cutie pie! Bless his dear heart! Now doesn't Min feel bad about flirting with another man? On the other hand I think this is exactly what Albus' needs - a good kick up the arse to get the ball rolling!

As always I am looking forward to more!

PiER