Resolving a Misunderstanding (complete)

[MMADfan]

hogwartsduo said:

Ya know...the more I read of Professor Gamp, the more I dislike her. There's just something about her...ugh!

I just had to chuckle when I read your comment. She certainly inspires varied reactions! Yours is not uncommon, I must say. Gertrude can be a bit . . . abrasive, can't she? I look forward to your impressions of Minerva's "holiday" in Cornwall. <smirk>

hogwartsduo said:

Anyway, very interesting chapter and it was nice to see Minerva being so concerned about Albus' health and then staying in his guest rooms. Awww.

Hmmm, Hagrid you say...can't imagine what on earth that chapter would be about!

I know -- quite a puzzle, ain't it?

I'm hoping to get another chapter written today, so take a look later this evening or tomorrow morning! Hope you have a nice weekend!

-MMADfan

[MMADfan]

NOTE: There was an update yesterday covering more of the events leading up to Hagrid's expulsion, so if you haven't read the story in a few days, go back to page eight and check out the last few posts.

Unfortunately, the system says this installment is too long, so I've had to split it in two.

Part XLVIII: Hagrid

Minerva looked at the plate of ginger newts that was left from her breakfast, then at the scones, butter, and marmalade. Everything seemed fresh, still. Some kind of house-elf Charm, no doubt. Yes, she would bring a few treats down to Hagrid. She wondered whether she should bring the tea, as well, but then decided that would be insulting. Milk, however, might be acceptable. She wondered if Hagrid’s culinary skills had improved any with the years.

She sighed, thinking of Hagrid’s expulsion from Hogwarts. The unfairness of it all. Yet he had been able to build a life for himself here, with the help of Albus, one perhaps as good as any he may have had otherwise. But there would always be that shadow hanging over him: the disgrace of his expulsion, the shame of being made an inferior to his former fellow students, and the ultimate indignity of having his wand snapped. It distressed Minerva to this day, thinking about it. She wondered if his current unhappiness had anything to do with that or if it were totally unrelated.

She had been outraged when, two days after Myrtle’s death, Professor Gamp had walked her to Dumbledore’s office after her Arithmancy final exam and she had learned of Hagrid’s expulsion. The decision had been made to allow the NEWTs and OWLs testing, as well as the regular final exams for the other students, to proceed as usual, but with an abundance of precautions. No student was to be unaccompanied by an adult, ever, when outside of their dormitories, not even to use the bathroom; when not in exams or taking lunch in the Great Hall – the only meal still served there – the students were confined to their common rooms and dormitories; teachers took shifts in the common rooms to be on hand in case of any trouble. The staff was stretched thin, and their nerves and tempers were on edge, as a result. Professor Gamp was one of the few teachers who seemed the same to Minerva, as though untouched by the additional demands on her time and by the stress that the uncertainty and danger were causing everyone else.

Leaving Madam Perlecta to accompany the rest of the students to their next exams or their dormitories, depending on their schedules – the librarian had been dragooned into chaperone duty, despite her vehement protests that she was unsuited at her age and that she hadn’t used a defensive spell in fifty years – Professor Gamp hurried Minerva out of the classroom and down the hall.

“Where are we going, Professor?”

“The Deputy Headmaster would like to see you, Miss McGonagall. I thought it best if I accompany you to his office myself.” Professor Gamp glanced at the Gryffindor trotting along beside her. “If we hurry, I may be able to relieve Madam Perlecta of a few of her charges and escort them to wherever they are going.”

Minerva hoped that didn’t mean they needed to walk any more quickly. But apparently not. They soon arrived at the Transfiguration classroom, where Professor Gamp rapped on the door. The door shimmered a moment, then it opened and Professor Dumbledore greeted them quietly.

“I will be going now, Albus. I think that Livia could use some assistance. Would you like me to return and fetch Miss McGonagall later?”

“No. No, that will not be necessary. Although I would like to see you later,” Professor Dumbledore replied.

Professor Gamp nodded. After she had left, Dumbledore closed them into the classroom and warded the door.

“Those precautions may not be necessary much longer,” he said with a weary sigh.

“What?! Are they closing the school?” Minerva asked, alarmed.

“No. They, that is to say, the Headmaster and the Board of Governors, are satisfied that the cause of these attacks has been discovered.”

Confused by her mentor’s demeanor, she asked, “But that’s good, isn’t it? Unless . . . you don’t believe that they are right. That’s it, isn’t it?”

Dumbledore led Minerva into his office, where they each sat in an overstuffed armchair. “They believe that the culprit has been identified, and, as you have said, I do not believe that they are correct.”

“What . . . or who was it? Or who do they think it was?”

“Rubeus Hagrid.”

“What!?” Minerva gaped at her teacher. “But that’s absurd. Rubeus would no more hurt a student than I would – in fact, it’s less likely! Not to mention he’s only a third-year! How was he supposed to have done these horrible things?”

“It seems that young Rubeus, in his fondness for all creatures, had the extremely poor judgment to adopt one of the wizarding world’s less . . . beloved creatures. He brought an Acromantula into the castle and was raising it in an abandoned room. He is adamant that his spider never escaped into the rest of the school; further, he said that he was removing Aragog – that is the name he gave the spider – from the castle because the spider told him he was frightened by some other beast that has been loose in the castle.”

Minerva listened, mouth open, incredulous. “But, well, I’m no expert, but it doesn’t seem to me that an Acromantula could have such an effect on the students. I should ask Murdoch about Acromantula venom – ”

“There is no need. Professor Slughorn confirmed that Acromantula venom, even, in rare instances, from an immature specimen, can cause complete paralysis in humans.”

“‘Paralysis’? These students aren’t merely paralysed! And why haven’t any of the standard remedies worked on them, if that’s the case? Why are we still waiting for the Mandrakes? And that must be one huge Acromantula, to have been able to kill Myrtle!”

“Aragog says that he has not harmed any students, but of course, his testimony is inadmissible, as he is a beast. And it would hardly behoove him to inculpate himself. As to his size, he is not yet full-grown – his body is somewhat larger than a Quaffle, although his legs make him seem much bigger than that.” Dumbledore sighed. “I, too, do not find it credible that the Acromantula is responsible.”

“What are they going to do to it? And is anything going to happen to Hagrid?”

When her professor remained silent, dread began to grow in Minerva’s stomach.

“They’re going to expel him, aren’t they?”

“Worse than that, I’m afraid.”

“Worse?” Minerva whispered. “Azkaban? He would never survive.” Tears sprang into her eyes, thinking of the innocent young Gryffindor who, though larger than most grown men, was one of the gentlest people she knew.

“I think I have forestalled that, although there are still some voices in the Ministry and the Board of Governors that would like to see him sent there. He will be expelled, though; I have had no success in dissuading them from that decision.”

“What will happen to him, then? Rubeus has no parents. He may look as though he can take care of himself, but he’s only fourteen years old!” Minerva had wondered where he had gone over the summer last year after his father had died and had worried about him then; his situation was much more dire now.

“I think I can provide for him, Minerva. Last summer, he stayed in a room over the Hog’s Head, where my brother tends bar.” At Minerva’s expression, Albus chuckled dryly. “Yes, not a particularly wholesome environment for a child, but the only other option was a Muggle orphanage, as he has no relatives. Can you see Hagrid in such a setting? Or the Muggles’ reactions to him? The Secrecy laws would certainly be stretched.”

“Well, that may be fine for a summer, but what about the next few years, and what will happen to him later? If he can’t even take his OWLs, what kind of job will he be able to get? And if he’s an orphan, he won’t be able to afford private tutors – ”

“There will be no need for tutors, Minerva,” Dumbledore said softly. “They are going to snap his wand.”

Minerva was speechless. She felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach. Regaining her voice, she asked, “What is to become of him, then? How can they do that to him?”

“I am working on a solution, Minerva. I cannot avert the expulsion, and as for his wand . . . it will be snapped. But I have been appealing to Headmaster Dippet’s sense of fairness. I think I will prevail.” He smiled grimly. “I may not be a Slytherin, but I am quite capable of calling in favours and exerting some . . . pressure, when necessary.”

Now that what her professor had told her had sunk in, Minerva now had another question. “How did anyone find out about his Acromantula?”

Dumbledore paused before answering. “A prefect found Hagrid as he was preparing to move Aragog from the room where he had kept him.”

Minerva froze. “Riddle. It was that bloody toe-rag, Riddle!”

“Language, Minerva,” Albus admonished mildly. “Yes. It was he.”

“How?”

“He had met with Headmaster Dippet, asking to be allowed to stay at school over the summer. Dippet informed him that not only was that impossible, particularly under current circumstances, but that the school might be closed permanently if the perpetrator of the attacks was not caught and if there were no assurances that there would be no more of them.” An unusually cynical smile appeared on Dumbledore’s face as he continued. “Inspired by his ‘loyalty’ to the school and out of ‘respect’ for his deceased fellow Slytherin, Mr Riddle scoured the school and caught the perpetrator.”

“Loyalty! Respect! He doesn’t know the meaning of those words! And he was one of Myrtle’s worst tormentors when she was alive . . . . You know, Professor, I’ve heard an odd rumour . . . . It’s hard to get gossip from the other Houses with all of the current restrictions, but we’ve been hearing that, well, that Myrtle is haunting one of the Slytherin girls and that the fourth-year exams were disrupted by Myrtle’s ghost.”

“It is rather amazing how quickly such a rumour circulates, even under these circumstances. It is only partially correct, however, since it was the fifth-year OWL exams that were disrupted by Myrtle’s ghost, as Miss Hornby is in her fifth year, and it is she whom Miss MacNair has decided to haunt.”

Unconcerned about Olive Hornby’s predicament, Minerva asked excitedly, “Can’t you just ask Myrtle what attacked her, then? It can’t have been Rubeus – if it was any student, I’d lay my galleons that it was that Riddle boy!”

“We have questioned her, Minerva, as soon as she made her appearance, in fact. Unfortunately, she only remembers hearing a boy’s voice in the bathroom, coming out of her stall to tell him to leave, and then nothing else. The Mandrake potion will be ready this afternoon, Professor Slughorn tells me, and although we will, of course, question the students who were petrified, I do not expect any more enlightening answers from them. In the meantime, Mr Hagrid is being held in a dungeon room awaiting their final testimony.”

“But surely Myrtle would have recognised Rubeus’s voice, if it had been him! He has a very distinctive accent.”

“Unfortunately, she was unacquainted with him; they were in different years, so shared no classes, and, obviously, they were in different Houses. She knew who he was only because of his unusual size. Oddly enough, she seems to possess no ill-will toward him, even after the Headmaster asked her whether he was the boy whom she heard in the bathroom, preferring instead to blame Olive Hornby for all her troubles.”

“I guess ghosts are like that, fixated,” Minerva replied disconsolately. “What about Veritaserum? Certainly in these circumstances, it could be justified for use on Rubeus – and on Riddle, for that matter.”

“Unfortunately, although the Ministry has allowed me to act as an informal guardian to Mr Hagrid, that status has never been officially conferred on me. Rubeus is in the odd position of being unable to consent to the administration of Veritaserum because he is underage, and yet there is no one either to provide or to withhold consent for him, regardless of what may be in his best interest. In addition, because of his parentage, there is some question as to the dosage and even the efficacy of Veritaserum. I did make that suggestion, myself, Minerva.”

“Of course.” Curious, she asked, “What did you mean by ‘his parentage’?”

“You are a friend to Rubeus?” her mentor questioned.

“Well, I don’t know him that well,” Minerva replied, “but he is in Gryffindor, and if he ever needs a friend, as he does now, I will be one.”

“Some know this already, and others, of course, have guessed it. I am surprised that speculation hasn’t been rampant in Gryffindor House. Mr Hagrid’s mother was a giantess and his father was a wizard.”

“Oh. No wonder Riddle was so pleased to incriminate him, then. Always going on about ‘blood.’ Pathetic.”

“Mmm. Mr Riddle does have some . . . interesting views, from what I have heard.”

“Poor Rubeus. How’s he doing?”

“As well as can be expected, my dear. As well as can be expected.”

In due course, the students in the infirmary were dosed with Mandrake potion, questioned, revealed nothing about their attacker, and Hagrid was expelled. To Minerva’s horror, his expulsion and wand-breaking were public events, held in the Great Hall. Wanting to avert her eyes from this travesty of justice, Minerva forced herself to watch, to see what her fellow Gryffindor had to endure, and to lend him her silent support by looking on with respect. If he could bear it, she would bear it with him, however little she could share in his disgrace. She was shocked to see that it was the Deputy Headmaster who actually broke the boy’s wand, and she was coldly furious with him. She could not believe that he would do such a thing.

Storming up to his classroom, pacing outside the door, as her password had not yet been reset, her anger boiled. After all that he had said about helping Rubeus, he had been the one to have delivered the final indignity. How could he? She was disappointed in her mentor, almost disillusioned, in fact. This was not the wizard she had grown to respect. After forty-five minutes of wearing a path in the flagstone, Minerva looked up to see Professor Dumbledore walking toward her, looking more cheerful than he had in some weeks. Judging his expression, Minerva half-expected him to break out whistling a carefree tune at any moment.

“Ah, Minerva! Good! I had wanted to speak to you. We never finalised our plans before these tragedies occurred. We can talk now, hmm?” He seemed oblivious to her mood, so good was his own.

As soon as they had entered the classroom, Minerva closed the door behind them and stopped there. Dumbledore, realising that she was not following him into his office, turned. Before he could say a word, however, Minerva asked the only question she had: “How could you? How could you do that? You had to be there, I know. But did you have to do that? I could not believe my eyes.”

“Minerva, hush. I told the Ministry and the Board of Governors that as the Head of his House, it was my right to do so. I assured them that I would dispose of his wand properly, just as I disposed of the Acromantula last night.”

“Your ‘right’? That is just . . . just sick!” Tears of anger and disappointed pricked the back of Minerva’s eyes. She walked over to one of the windows and gazed out, unable to look at her professor just then.

“Hmm. I suppose one could view it that way. I certainly would, under other circumstances. Do you know, Miss McGonagall, how I disposed of the creature?”

“No. I only hope the poor beast didn’t suffer very much.”

“Oh, no. I can honestly say that he didn’t suffer at all. In fact, he thanked me for it.”

“He thanked you? I didn’t know that Acromantulas possessed a death wish,” Minerva scoffed.

“Far from it. No, he was quite pleased with his new home in the Forbidden Forest. Yes, it shall be even more forbidden, now, I am afraid.”

“His new home? But I thought . . . I had heard . . . wasn’t he supposed to be destroyed?” Minerva turned toward him as he walked over to join her at the window.

“I believe that is what the Ministry and the Board of Governors assumed when I told them I would take care of the dangerous creature that could not be allowed to live amongst humans, but I never told them I was going to kill him.”

“Oh. But I did see you snap Hagrid’s wand.”

Dumbledore sighed. “I took no delight in it. But I thought, first, that it might be easier for him, knowing that it was being done by someone who had faith in him, someone who believed that snapping his wand was a miscarriage of justice, than if it had been performed by another. Second, I do intend to ‘dispose of it properly,’ my dear,” he said with a twinkle.

“Oh. Well, I suppose you have something in mind. I wish I had known, though. It was awful, watching you participate in that travesty. It made me quite sick.”

“I am sorry, my dear,” he said, laying his hand over hers where it rested on the windowsill. “I wasn’t sure that my plan would work. And there was no time to warn you, either. I know it must have been difficult to watch, as you are fond of Rubeus.”

“It wasn’t that, Professor. Of course, I am fond of him. It’s just that I didn’t understand why you would do such a thing, and I’ve . . . I’ve come to have such high regard for you, it just didn’t match up with what I had come to expect of you.”

With a slight smile, he replied, “So you preferred to believe that you were wrong about my character than to think I may have had a reason for what I did?”

“No. Not exactly. It was just such a shock. I couldn’t think clearly. If I hadn’t seen you today, I probably would have eventually decided that you must have had a good reason for doing what you did, but I still would not have been happy with it.”

“And you are now?”

“Well, I’m unhappy with the whole situation, but not with you. I won’t lose faith in you again, I promise.”

“Beware of such open-ended promises, Minerva. Life can be long, and one may change one’s mind along the way,” he responded, but he smiled as he warned her.

“Not about you, I won’t. I hadn’t really, even now. If I had, I wouldn’t have come to see you to find out why you did what you did, after all,” she pointed out. Her professor’s hand still rested on hers, and It was making Its presence known, but Minerva did not know how to remove her hand from his without belying the words she had just uttered. Ignoring It, she asked, “What will happen to Rubeus now, sir?”

“I have secured him a position at the school. I had to exert considerable . . . influence on the Headmaster, and there are conditions attached, but I believe it to be the best we could hope for in these circumstances. Hagrid will remain at Hogwarts as the Groundskeeper’s assistant and trainee. Ironically, he will spend this summer, and every summer after that, if he wishes, here at the castle. The Headmaster has imposed some rules upon him, in order to impress upon him and others that he is no longer a student here, but they should not prove too onerous, I hope.” With a squeeze to Minerva’s hand, he asked, “Would you like to have tea with me, Minerva? If I am forgiven, of course!”

Unable to disappoint her professor, Minerva smiled at him and agreed.

“I’ll be back in a moment, then. I just need to check on a few things, put something away for safe-keeping, then I’ll call Wilspy.”

Minerva remained at the window, looking out. Many students had been allowed to leave early and had left as soon as their last exams were finished, so the Great Hall hadn’t been as filled with gawkers as it might have been. There were only a few students lounging on the grass out by the lake, and she saw Hagrid’s bulky form in the distance, watching them from afar. What must he be feeling? She saw him turn and walk away, taking a long route around to avoid the students, and heading back behind the castle, then out of view.

Hagrid, as Minerva later learned, had elected to stay in a hut on the grounds rather than take a room next to Ogg’s in the lower levels of the castle. The Headmaster had encouraged this decision, finding it inappropriate for the disgraced former student to reside directly in the castle with his former fellow classmates. The hut had not been intended for habitation, but was an outbuilding for storage or where the Groundskeeper could duck in out of the rain or have a cup of tea whilst taking a break from work. Dumbledore told her that, although Dippet had forbidden the Hogwarts house-elves from assisting him, Wilspy had helped Hagrid to clean and clear the hut and to move in with his few possessions.

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Part XLVIII: Hagrid, continued

Minerva shook her head, clearing it of those unhappy memories from so long ago. Hagrid seemed to have done well enough. He was still at Hogwarts, after all. And given his loyalty to Dumbledore, he would be unlikely to leave as long as Albus was Headmaster. She conjured a basket and packed away the cookies, scones, butter, marmalade, and milk, and headed out of her quarters to look for Hagrid.

She found him on his knees, weeding his pumpkin patch. “Hello, there, Hagrid! I thought we might have tea together. The elves made me far too many scones for breakfast, so I was wondering if you would share them with me.”

“’Lo, there, M’nerva!” He looked up at her and smiled. Even kneeling, sitting back on his heels as he was, he came to her shoulder. “I am a mite peckish,” he admitted. “Jes let me wash up a bi’, an’ I’ll be with yeh.”

“Where’s your kettle, Hagrid? Do you mind if I heat some water for tea?”

“Help yerself! Everythin’s the same as it was, pretty much.” As Hagrid went around to the pump on the other side of the hut to wash up, Minerva entered the open door of his hut. It was clean and tidy, quite comfortable, really, although there were peculiar things hanging from the ceiling in one corner of the room. Minerva didn’t look at them too closely, but crossed over to the hearth where she retrieved the kettle and filled it from the pump at the washstand beneath his window. As she filled the kettle with fresh water, she looked out the window and saw Hagrid standing at the outdoor pump, shirt off, washing his hands and arms, then splashing water over his torso. Finally, he ducked his head under the pump, which apparently had been charmed to continue pumping on its own, and wet down his head and beard. He certainly was . . . large, Minerva thought. Huge, in fact. She thought that he could be quite frightening, met on a dark night, if you didn’t know him.

Minerva hung the kettle from a hook over the fire. She began to unpack her basket on Hagrid’s well-scrubbed table when he came into the hut and grabbed a towel from where it hung on a peg next to the door. “’Scuse me, M’nerva,” he said, blushing. He ducked out again, apparently to dry himself off, and returned a minute later to repeat the exercise, this time grabbing a cleaner shirt from its peg. The third time he appeared in the doorway, he entered the room.

“Sorry, M’nerva. I ferget sometimes that there’s a lady about. ’Specially durin’ the summer, when jest abou’ everybody’s gone.”

“Don’t worry about my sensibilities, Hagrid,” Minerva laughed. “I do have older brothers, you know. And I’d be pleased to treat you just as I do them!”

Hagrid smiled and blushed, pleased. “I’d be real happy at that, M’nerva.”

“Well, then, that’s settled. You now have an honorary big sister! And given that I’ve always been the youngest, it will be a treat for me to have a younger brother,” she said with a smile.

“Yeh’ve always treated me right, M’nerva. Even after . . . yeh know. I was so happy yeh were here tha’ summer.” He sat at the table, eying the treats Minerva had laid out. “I don’ know what I’d ’a’ done without yeh. I don’ think I’ve ever thanked yeh proper for all yeh done fer me then.”

“Nonsense, Hagrid. It was nice for me, too. We had fun, didn’t we? I would have had no one but the teachers to talk to if you hadn’t been here!”

“Well, thank you, anyway. I think the water’s on the boil.” Hagrid rose and made them a pot of very strong Oolong tea. It had something else in it that Minerva didn’t recognise. It wasn’t precisely unpleasant, but peculiar, and Minerva was wary of any odd herbs he may have decided to add to his brew.

“Hmm, interesting tea, Hagrid. Is it a special blend?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah. ’Tis one o’ me own, actually,” he said proudly. “Bee balm. That’s the secret. P’rfesser Birnbaum lets me have some from the greenhouse. I useta use lemon balm, but bee balm’s me favourite now.”

Reassured that she wasn’t about to be inadvertantly poisoned, Minerva relaxed and drank her tea. It tasted a bit like Earl Grey, she decided. Not bad, really.

She ate a ginger newt, insisting to Hagrid that she really didn’t need anything else when he apologised for not having any of his rock cakes made, but he hadn’t expected a guest that afternoon. That led the conversation around to what visitors he entertained. From what Minerva could tell, Hagrid was just lonely. He didn’t seem to entertain guests very often, although he mentioned that Professor Dumbledore came out occasionally, when he could spare a moment, and that Grubbly-Plank sometimes asked him for his help with some of the animals that she was using in her classes. Other than that, it seemed to Minerva that his social life consisted in going to the Hog’s Head in the evenings. Minerva herself wasn’t one to get out much, really, but she recognised that she had a lot of human contact on a daily basis, especially during term, and with Poppy there, she hadn’t had much occasion for loneliness. She resolved to spend a little time with Hagrid that summer, at least to stop by and chat now and then.

A clean, fresh breeze was coming through the open window and door of the small hut. Taking a deep breath of it, Minerva suggested, “It’s a beautiful day out, Hagrid. I know you have gardening, but won’t you take a bit of a walk with me? We could catch up, like old times.”

Hagrid agreed readily, and Minerva was glad that she had made the suggestion. The poor fellow was lonely. They walked around the castle to the edge of the lake. Minerva conjured two wooden garden chairs for them, sizing his appropriately.

“Yer a wonder with yer wand, M’nerva!” said Hagrid admiringly.

“It’s nothing, really. Not like what Albus can do, certainly,” she replied, although she was pleased with his compliment.

“Yeah, but there i’n’t any wizard or witch what’s like the Headmaster, is there?”

In agreement on that point, the two settled down for a lazy summer afternoon’s chat. Minerva asked him, with a wink, if he still had his pink umbrella, and Hagrid told her he did, safely tucked away in his wardrobe at the moment.

Hagrid filled her in on his own doings, then told her stories that he had heard about various students and former students, and Minerva shared a few stories of her own.

They were chatting quite convivially when Albus returned from his trip to the Ministry. Although he had Flooed out of the castle, he Apparated back after running a few errands in Diagon Alley. Walking up from the gates, he smiled as he saw the two sitting amiably together, Hagrid gesticulating as he illustrated one of his stories.

Albus remembered how young Minerva, after having protested accepting a stipend from him, asked him one day in mid-July, at the end of a long afternoon of experiments, if she could have an advance of two week’s allowance. Although he was inclined to give it to her, he was curious as to why she was asking for it. She paused before answering.

“Well, I have something put aside in one of the shops in Hogsmeade. The owner will only hold it until tomorrow, though. I have almost enough for it; I’m only three galleons short.” Albus knew that her parents, in an abundance of caution, had given her a good sum before she had left for the summer. What on earth could she possibly be purchasing that would take all of her money? He hesitated, worried about her spending all of her money on one item and then having little to carry her through the rest of the summer. But she was of age, and she could make her own choices and learn from them, he supposed.

Later that evening standing in the Astronomy Tower with Gertie, he had looked out at a heart-warming sight. He could now see what Minerva had spent her money on: she had purchased Hagrid a family-sized broom and was attempting to teach him to ride it.

“Will you look at that, Gertie!”

Gertrude’s lips turned up slightly at the corners. “I had the impression that Minerva dislikes brooms.”

“I don’t believe she’s particularly fond of them. But she’s competent enough. Oh, no, look at that!” Hagrid was hanging from his new broom by one arm. But their alarm was short-lived as Minerva cast a quick spell that caught Hagrid and Levitated him back onto the broom. They were only about twenty feet up, and Minerva was demonstrating how to urge the broom forward, stop, turn, and hover.

“He didn’t take Flying his first year?” asked the Arithmancer.

“They couldn’t find a school broom that would lift him. No one considered using a family broom.” Albus continued to watch Minerva give the young half-giant flying lessons, a broad smile on his face.

“Does this contravene any of the terms of his punishment, Albus? I wouldn’t want either of them to get into trouble. If we can see them, surely others, including the Headmaster, can, too.”

“No. No, I’m sure it doesn’t. He is allowed to use any Charmed objects. He cannot use a wand, but a broomstick is not a wand. There is nothing that would prohibit him from using a broom. Of course, he may eventually outgrow it, since I think he’s got another growth spurt or two coming, but in the meantime, I think he should be allowed to enjoy it. At least while school is not in session. I shall ensure that the Headmaster agrees with me, as well.”

They continued to watch the impromptu flying lesson as it evolved into a game of Swivenhodge. Minerva had Transfigured something into a pig’s bladder and conjured a net to take the place of the traditional hedge. As the two young Gryffindors manoeuvered their brooms to bat the inflated pig’s bladder back and forth across the “hedge,” playing in a more co-operative manner than the game was usually played, Albus’s smile grew. Gertrude turned to him.

“You may want to have a word with the Headmaster sooner, rather than later, Albus. You can watch them play some other time, but if he decides to cut their game short, well, his pride may keep him from rescinding any prohibitions he places on Hagrid’s activities on the castle grounds, regardless of what you may say later.”

Albus had torn himself away and gone to find the Headmaster. Gertrude had been correct. He ran into Armando in the corridor on his way down to the grounds to put a stop to the “foolishness.” Albus had dissuaded him, assuring him that Hagrid would not be flying around the grounds during the school year and reminding further him that Hagrid would likely outgrow the broom in a few years, anyway. “Come, now, Armando. He’s only a boy. He has borne his punishment like a man. Surely you can let him have a little time just to be a child again?”

Dippet had agreed, and he had actually seemed relieved that he did not need to forbid Hagrid yet one more activity. He had done what he felt he must, but had never been completely comfortable with it. He had the sense that he was a pawn in someone’s game, and he didn’t like that at all. But having taken the actions he had, he felt obliged to uphold the edicts of the Ministry and the Board of Governors. Dumbledore’s reassurances that Hagrid’s activities were not forbidden by his life-long punishment were actually not unwelcome. Armando did not like feeling bad about himself. His self-image relied on his belief that he was a kind, fair, and beloved Headmaster. The events of the last few months interfered with that self-image. Dumbledore had helped him to save face, even if only in his own eyes.

As Dumbledore walked up toward the castle these many years later, he thought that Minerva and Hagrid had changed very little in the intervening years, at least not in any essential ways. And from a distance, he could almost believe it was that long past summer, Minerva looked so young, fresh, and beautiful in her deep yellow and raspberry-red robes. Albus veered from his path to the castle doors and walked toward the two.

“Hullo, P’rfesser Dumbledore!” Hagrid grinned at him. “Look who came by fer tea this afternoon!”

“Good-afternoon, Hagrid, Minerva.” He smiled at them both. “It’s good to see you out enjoying the fresh air – although I’m sure Hagrid has been out working on the grounds today.”

They exchanged some small talk, and then Albus said that he had to spend some time in his office before dinner. “I hope to see you both in the Great Hall later. I believe that, beginning tomorrow, we will move our meals to the staff room.” Albus thought an odd expression crossed Minerva’s face when he mentioned returning to his office, but perhaps she just wished he could stay and talk. He smiled to himself as he climbed the many stairs to the seventh floor. Minerva had seemed to enjoy their time together morning. He had, too, and now that he had come to terms with his feelings about her, he could continue to take pleasure in her company.

Note: I hope you enjoyed this installment.
Next: a snippet of that evening’s meal, and Minerva and Albus meet on Saturday. Then you know where Minerva will be going!

[Hogwarts Duo]

Poor Hagrid's plight was so believable, it's almost like JKR had written that in COS and you simply pulled it from there. Great job with that and I can see Minerva being very upset with Albus for snapping his wand until she learned of his 'idea'

Thanks for updating so quickly today! I'm anxiously awaiting the next section.

Ang

[MMADfan]

Part XLIX: Dinner and Dessert

Albus entered his office to find Fawkes asleep on his perch, head tucked under one wing. As he crossed the room, he noticed that Minerva had left the parchments for him on his desk. The second thing he noticed was that one of the stacks of parchment was askew. Albus knew he had not left them that way. Looking more closely, he saw the bottom-most parchments peeking out from beneath the others. His lists. The lists he had made . . . was it only yesterday? He should have put them away – or destroyed them. But perhaps Minerva hadn’t seen them. Curious, though, that the parchments were disturbed and that those particular ones were visible.

Apprehensive, he came around the desk and moved the inkwell aside from where Minerva had place it atop the advertisement. She had left him a note. Albus pulled his glasses from his pocket and put them on before sitting down to read her note. As he read the final paragraph, he was puzzled. He doubted that she would make something like that up. He had always trusted her, and he didn’t believe that she would gratuitously search his papers. But when he had left that afternoon, the three parchments were safely sitting on his desk and the others were in a neat, undisturbed stack.

“Phineas! Phineas Nigellus! I know you’re not asleep.”

“What do you want now? It’s not term time. Don’t you ever take a holiday?” grumbled the former Slytherin headmaster.

“Did anyone come into my office while I was out this afternoon?”

“That Transfiguration person was here, but I slept through her visit. You’ll have to ask Dilys.”

“No one else?”

“I was asleep. I don’t see everything, you know.”

Dilys Derwent was not in her frame. Probably off visiting St. Mungo’s. Albus was perplexed. Minerva had said that she may have inadvertently seen “confidential documents.” Given the state of his desk, that could only mean that she had seen his lists. She had seemed perfectly friendly down on the lawn just now. Although she had given him an odd look when he mentioned his office. . . .

He would have to put it out of his mind until he could speak with Dilys. Albus considered the suggestions Minerva had made regarding his advertisement. Yes, he agreed with all of them, including the one about the description of Hogwarts. But he’d never hear the last of it from certain School Governors if he weren’t to include that bit about Hogwarts’ “preeminence.” Albus took out a fresh parchment and rewrote the advertisement, adding Minerva’s suggestions. He then duplicated it several times, addressed each advertisement, and included one for Bestial Byways. The journals would invoice the school and he would have the money transferred from Hogwarts’ Gringotts account.

As Albus finished that bit of work, he looked up to see that Dilys Derwent had returned and was sleeping in her rocking chair.

“Dilys, Phineas tells me that you were here when I had a visitor this afternoon.”

“Yes, that nice young Professor McGonagall was here. Such a lovely young lady.”

“Was anyone else here?”

“Visitors? Guests?” she asked. “No. She was your only visitor.”

Albus was no fool, and Dilys was no Slytherin. “Who else was here, then?”

“Well, Fawkes, of course . . . and I believe that your house-elf came in to tidy up at some point,” she replied somewhat evasively.

“Wilspy!”

“Yes, sir, Professor?” said the house-elf after popping in.

“Were you in my office this afternoon?”

“Wilspy cleans. Wilspy dusts. Wilspy empties Fawkes’s tray of phoenix droppings.”

“‘Wilspy’ does, does she? What else does ‘Wilspy’ do?” Whenever Wilspy began to speak more like a typical house-elf, Albus was sure that something was up.

“Wilspy may have had a little tiny accident, Professor Dumbledore, sir,” squeaked the elf.

“Wilspy, just tell me – normally – what you did.”

“When I’s dusting. It may be there’s a bit of . . . just a little bit of a draft, sir. Dusting can do that, sir.”

“Mmm. And it did not occur to you to pick up the parchments and put them back on the desk and to straighten the other piles?”

“Oh, no, sir! You tells me, you says, ‘Wilspy, do not touch my parchments if I do not ask you to.’ So I not touch your parchments, sir. No! I’s a good house-elf!”

Albus gave the elf a sharp look. “Very well, Wilspy. But please, in the future, if you accidentally disturb my parchments, you may put them back where they were. Professor McGonagall had difficulty finding the work I had left for her.”

“Yes, sir. Next time Wilspy has an accident with parchments, Wilspy will put them back where they were.”

“Thank you, Wilspy. You may go now.” Albus was still uneasy. If he didn’t know better, he would think that the house-elf had disturbed his parchments on purpose. But she had said that she wouldn’t touch them. He sighed. He hoped that Minerva hadn’t been offended by the lists he’d made. He didn’t doubt that she had read them once she saw them. And it would explain her oblique reference to “confidential papers.”

It was almost time for dinner. He would see Minerva shortly; perhaps he could ask her about it after dinner. If not, they were meeting tomorrow. He didn’t quite know what to say to her. Albus removed his glasses and rested his head in his hands. He had no time for this sort of thing. Between the Ministry and the school, he felt stretched thin. Gertrude had been a saving grace for him. Steady as a rock, that one. And thank goodness the Governors hadn’t given him a hard time when he had appointed a non-Head of House as Deputy. It was highly irregular, but he clearly couldn’t ask Dustern; their uneasy truce of the last fifteen or sixteen years would have come to an abrupt and explosive end within weeks, he was certain. And Slughorn, as agreeable as the Slytherin Head of House was, was not particularly diligent, and Albus doubted that he would have applied himself to any aspect of the job that he did not believe would bring him some direct benefit. Grubbly-Plank had enough getting on with as Head of Gryffindor, which was a challenge to the taciturn teacher. There was Johannes Birnbaum, of course. He might have done, Albus supposed. But Albus doubted that the German Herbology teacher had any aptitude for the more practical aspects of running a school. Even with his hands in the earth, Johannes always seemed something of a poet to Albus. Now, of course, he knew that Johannes would be leaving the school at the end of the next year, anyway.

Yes, Albus was very glad for Gertie’s assistance, given, he knew, out of genuine loyalty and affection for him, although he was certain that others read different motivations into her actions. He smiled thinking of some of the time they had spent together – not always comfortable time, to be sure, but certainly invigorating, even when they disagreed and argued. He hoped that Gertie would return from Cornwall a little earlier than she had planned. She knew that Albus wanted her there for the warding, although her presence wasn’t necessary.

Albus grinned remembering Minerva’s reaction that morning when she had received the invitation from Gertie. It had been unexpected to him, as well, although not the surprise it had been to Minerva. His brow furrowed as he remembered Minerva’s words, “But she doesn’t even like me!” He hoped that perhaps a few days in Cornwall would alter Minerva’s attitude toward Gertie. Not that Minerva had ever expressed dislike for the Arithmancy teacher – although she probably wouldn’t to him, since it must be obvious that he was friends with Gertie. Perhaps that was why Gertie had invited her. The older witch knew that he was fond of his former Animagus student, after all. She probably wanted to extend a hand in friendship. Albus smiled. It would be good if the two of them got along.

He set off for the Great Hall, wanting to arrive on time. Everyone insisted on keeping to the tradition that had been set in Headmaster Dippet’s day that dinner would not be served until the Headmaster was at the table – unless he wasn’t in the castle or had informed the house-elves that he would not be dining in the Great Hall, everyone had to wait for him to arrive. He would have to change that sometime. Not just yet. It seemed important to the staff that Albus come to dinner. He thought that for Headmaster Dippet, it was a point of his authority that no one could eat until he arrived; for Albus, on the other hand, it was something of a nuisance, more of a restriction on him than a restriction on the waiting diners. Besides, Albus never let them wait, if he could help it. For some reason, now that Albus was Headmaster, no one grumbled about the rule anymore. Or maybe they were too diplomatic to say anything. But given the limited time he had to spend with his staff, Albus supposed it was possible some of the staff saw this as their one opportunity during the day to see him. At least it was only dinner, and not lunch, as well.

Albus remembered his promise to Minerva that morning to reconsider his priorities. It hadn’t been precisely a promise, he supposed, but he did want to make sure that he made more time for her and for other people who were important in his life. And he would.

Albus was glad to see that only a few people had arrived for dinner – Minerva and Hagrid were sitting together, chatting, and Johannes Birnbaum and Hafrena MacAirt were sitting on the other side of the table examining a colourful chart. The only other staff left in the castle were Poppy, Wilhemina, and Norman James. Ogg, who rarely attended meals outside of term, anyway, had left that morning to spend the summer with his family, as had Livia Perlecta; several others who hadn’t left already would be leaving soon. Yes, definitely time to move the meals to the staff room, he thought. Staff came and went fairly freely during the summer, unless they had specific duties to attend to, such as the warding in August. As Headmaster, Albus didn’t have that luxury, and although when Gertrude returned, he would be freer to come and go, he doubted that he would.

Without hesitation, Albus took the seat on Minerva’s left. As soon as he was at the table, the meal appeared before them. Gradually the last few staff straggled in. Poppy sat next to Hagrid, with Norman next to her; when Wilhemina arrived, she sat between Norman and Johannes. Albus noticed that she and Hagrid didn’t speak; they barely even looked at each other. A far cry from their behaviour yesterday at lunch, he thought. Well, Hagrid was talking to Poppy about the health benefits of bee balm.

Albus turned to Minerva, who was eating her dinner with a good appetite, he was pleased to see. He thought she had not been eating well lately – probably due to his insensitivity.

“Minerva, if you have no plans after dinner, I was wondering if you would care for a walk?”

“I – I thought we were meeting tomorrow, Albus.”

“Oh, we are. This isn’t business, really. Just a few things I thought we could discuss.” Seeing her blanch slightly, he put down his glass of cider and patted her leg. “No worries, Minerva. I just thought we could have a word.”

When his hand touched her thigh, Minerva thought she would expire right there and then. A rush of warmth flooded her and she could feel her pulse quicken at Albus’s touch. She blinked, startled, “Yes, yes, of course.”

Minerva reached for her own glass of cider and almost knocked it over before catching it and raising it to her lips. She had gone from being nervous that he was upset with her about the parchments to being highly aroused by his touch in less than a second. It was all very well for her to tell herself that she would simply not act on her feelings for Albus, but she really must do something about these physical responses. Thank goodness Albus hadn’t noticed, but had begun to eat his meal again.

Next to her, Albus had quickly resumed eating his roast chicken. That had been an error on his part. He had simply meant to comfort her by giving her a reassuring pat. He should have patted her shoulder or her arm, Albus thought. Her gown was a thin summer silk, and he had felt her leg through it as though he had been touching her naked thigh. The sensation had streamed through him, bypassing his brain entirely and shooting straight to his groin. Fortunately, dinner had just begun, there would be time for his reaction to pass, and the robes he was wearing that evening had more drape to them than the blue ones he had worn that morning. He would have to do something to control his physical reactions, though; if he were to allow himself to continue to act on his love for her as a friend, he could not let this recurrent problem go unaddressed. Fortunately, Minerva hadn’t seemed to notice his reaction and was drinking her cider.

Albus and Minerva chatted a bit as they ate. Minerva asked about his trip to London, and he mentioned how much warmer it was there than at Hogwarts. “I was tempted to get some ice cream at Fortescue’s, but I wanted to get back to the castle.”

“You should have, Albus. You need to make time for yourself, you know. And Fortescue’s ice cream is one of the few things I miss about not living in London.”

“Was it very difficult, then, moving back here after having your own life for so long?” he asked.

“No, not really. Things were different than I’d expected, of course. But we never really know what to expect from a new situation, do we? But teaching took so much of my time – and I enjoyed it so much – that I didn’t really think about anything I might have left behind in my London life. What was it like for you, when you returned to teach? You had been gone so long, it must have seemed like an entirely different place. And you must have left a lot behind, yourself.”

“As you say, teaching is time-consuming. And you are aware that I had many other duties. I was so occupied, I never considered that I might have been somewhere else, doing anything other than what I was doing here at Hogwarts.”

Minerva thought about what he’d said. It wasn’t as though her own statement had been particularly revealing, but Albus had known her these past dozen or more years since she’d left school, and he knew what she had been doing, more or less. Albus never talked to her about his past, and, she had to admit, he never really told her much about his present life, either. Even when they would meet in London, he would ask her about what she was doing, but when he spoke of himself, it was usually only of his duties as teacher, then later as Headmaster, and as a member of the Wizengamot. They spoke of articles that recently appeared in Transfiguration journals, occasionally of politics, or of news they had from one of her former classmates, but Albus rarely spoke of himself. It had always been that way. She wondered whether he ever spoke to anyone of his own feelings, of his wants and needs, of his friendships and frustrations, or if he had simply developed the habit over the years of keeping these things to himself, isolated by his responsibilities.

Albus had had so many burdens to carry during the years she had known him at school, and he had carried those burdens alone, as far as she knew. Although his load may have lessened somewhat with the defeat of Grindelwald, surely he must wish that he had someone to share things with, even if it was just as a friendly ear. But perhaps he did have that friendly ear, Minerva thought. It was not as though she had been there on a daily basis for him to turn to. And he wouldn’t have, anyway, at least not immediately after she had left school. Their interactions after the incident in France during the war were proof of that, and she hadn’t been his student for more than a year at that point. He had not wanted her comfort, her “friendly ear,” then. Perhaps he still wouldn’t.

After the events of the last two days, though, Minerva thought it worth trying to be more of a friend to Albus, if he would let her – and if she could control her physical response to his presence and his touch. Perhaps she should break out her old Occlumency texts. Those exercises should help her to gain some control over herself.

They had finished the main course and desert appeared on the table. Albus stayed Minerva’s hand as she reached for a plate with a fruit tart on it. “Let’s skip dessert tonight, my dear. Take a walk with me?”

Minerva, surprised, nodded. Albus led her out through the French doors at the far end of Great Hall, directly out onto the grounds. As they walked down the path leading to the main courtyard, the pea-stones crunching beneath their feet, Albus seemed to have a destination in mind. Just as Minerva was about to ask him where they were going, however, he spoke.

“I looked at your suggestions. They were all very good, and I got the advertisements all ready to send off. The only one I did not incorporate was the one about the description of Hogwarts. Although I agree with you, there are members of the Board of Governors who do feel we should tout our own worth at every opportunity. It is a small thing, so I do not disappoint them,” he said with a twinkle.

“I’m glad I could help, Albus,” Minerva replied, smiling.

“I read with interest the final paragraph of your note,” Albus said as they began walking down the long drive to the main gates.

“Yes, well, I didn’t want you to think I had snooped,” Minerva said hesitantly.

Albus was glad that they were walking side by side; it was a bit easier to broach the subject. He didn’t want to seem as though he were interrogating her, and he was a little embarrassed if she had seen what he thought she had. “So, by ‘confidential documents,’ I presumed you meant that you saw the lists that I made yesterday morning.”

“Yes. I didn’t mean to look through your private things; it was as I said in my note. I’m afraid, though, that once I saw what the topics were on that first sheet, I pulled it out to take a closer look at it. I’m sorry, Albus. I did only look at part of it, though, and then I put it back.”

“I’m surprised at you, Minerva,” Albus said.

“I am sorry, really – ”

“I am quite surprised that your curiosity wasn’t overwhelming and that you didn’t read it all,” he said with a teasing grin.

“Oh!” Minerva laughed slightly. “I was curious, but it didn’t feel right. I didn’t think you had intended that I see them – or did you?” she asked, looking over at him.

“No, I didn’t. But there really wasn’t anything on those lists that we hadn’t discussed. I was a little nervous that you were offended by them, but you had seemed friendly when we met after I returned from London, so I assumed you weren’t. You weren’t, were you, my dear?”

“I was a little startled at first, I suppose, but it was touching, really, to think you had expended so much effort to try to divine what was going through my mind. Especially since I could tell from the first few entries on one of the lists that what I had said did bother you. But you put that aside out of concern for me.”

They were approaching the gates, and Albus stopped and reached out to touch her arm lightly. “You were my primary concern, Minerva.” He wanted to tell her that she would always be his primary concern, but he didn’t, he couldn’t. “I am glad you understood the spirit in which I wrote them.”

He led her through the gates.

“I did feel bad again that you could have ever entertained the notion that I might, what was it you said on the list, that I might ‘hold you in contempt,’ Albus, but I was also pleased to see that that particular entry had been vehemently crossed out!” Minerva smiled at him.

“Yes, well, as I said this morning, it was a ridiculous thought.” Albus dismissed his earlier worries.

“Where are we going, Albus?”

“Ah, well, my dear, would you trust me for a moment?”

“Of course, but – ”

“But? Do you trust me or not?”

“Yes, I do, Albus.” Minerva smiled at him and shook her head. Silly, dear man.

“Then, my dear, close your eyes.”

Minerva did as he said, then felt him grasp her upper arms and step closer to her. A shiver went through her as she felt the tingle of his proximity. Then she felt the familiar sense of Side-Along-Apparition. Unlike their first Side-Along, however, this one began and ended with a small crack, and when Minerva opened her eyes, she felt slightly woozy. As Albus released her arms, she stepped back away from him and reeled slightly. He reached out and steadied her.

“I’m sorry, my dear. Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. I don’t get sick anymore. Just a bit dizzy. And a little nauseous.” With Albus’s hand still holding her arm, she looked around. They were in a small side alleyway off of Diagon Alley. “You Apparated us to London?”

“Yes, I thought we might have some of that ice cream that you miss and that I neglected to treat myself to this afternoon. It will be much nicer in your company.” Albus smiled brightly at her.

Oh, dear, if he continued to treat her like this, she would end up behaving like a fool who was head over heels in love. But she could not say “no” to his sweet idea and his warm smile. “That sounds lovely, Albus. Thank you!”

Minerva didn’t even think about her plan to try to get him to open up and tell her more about himself. Lying in bed later that night, she could only think of how wonderful it had been to spend time with him and of how thoughtful he was. After their ice cream, they had strolled through Diagon Alley together, and people would nod at Albus and smile, or they would stop to shake his hand and exchange a few words, but Albus never let Minerva feel ignored, and he always introduced her to whomever he spoke, then they would walk on. He asked her how she felt about chamber music, and she laughed and told him that she hadn’t really been exposed to it much before Melina had come to London for her training. Melina had sought out Muggle concerts whenever she had an opportunity, and she had often brought her aunt along. Melina particularly enjoyed piano concerts, but had also taken Minerva to a number of chamber concerts. Minerva herself enjoyed Baroque music particularly; there was something about the orderliness of it that she found serenely calming. Bach especially appealed to her, she told Albus.

They agreed that during the summer, while they both had some time, they should try to go to a concert or two. The two Apparated separately back to the gates, since Minerva did not want to end her evening with nausea after eating all that ice cream. She had offered to Apparate Albus back, since he had Apparated long-distance twice that day, but he claimed he wasn’t tired and could manage just fine. He walked her back to her room and took her hand to bid her good-night. Minerva thought Albus might kiss it again in his courtly fashion, but he didn’t; he just held her hand for a moment and gave it a gentle squeeze before wishing her pleasant dreams.

Minerva wanted to invite him in, but that seemed wrong to her. It had felt almost like a date, she mused as she lay in bed. If she had invited him in, she would have felt that even more strongly, and she couldn’t afford to let her feelings be led astray like that. If she were to do that, soon she would have herself believing that Albus loved her. Although . . . he probably did, after a fashion. Albus was one of the most loving people Minerva had ever met, and she would be denying him his due if she were to pretend that he couldn’t love her in some way. She just had to maintain her perspective, she thought as she lay in bed with the cool night breeze washing across her face. Maintain her perspective and begin practising some Occlumency exercises.

But Minerva fell asleep that night with a smile, happier than she ever remembered being.

[Jessabelle]

This was fantastic! And, very cute! Albus' impromtu visit, with Minerva, to Diagon Alley was so perfect. I can't wait to read about Minerva's little trip!
- Jess

[elivania]

Wonderful. Fantastic as usual! I love the detail of Hagrid's expullsion and Dumbledore's interference on certain aspects. Just brilliant.

Love, love, love, love, the almost-date between Dumbledore and Minerva. Just brilliant.

[laundry basket]

this whole thing is just wonderful.... you're an excellent writer!

[Gemmie Lou]

this is getting so cute now xxx

[MMADfan]

Note: Thank you for your comments! I am sorry this update has taken me a while. That's why I'm posting it today; I had wanted to make this next section all one chapter and have the next chapter be the trip to Cornwall, but I'm going to post it as two chapters so folks don't have to wait even longer! Don't worry, once Minerva has finished her meeting with Albus, we are off to Cornwall and an interesting "house party"!

Part L: A Morning Constitutional

Minerva stretched and yawned. She didn’t remember sleeping so well in years. She smiled, thinking of the previous evening. Albus had been so wonderfully sweet. That he would take her mention of Fortescue’s and use it to create such a lovely . . . not a date, but an outing, certainly proved the truth and sincerity of his promise to make more time for her. Minerva hoped that the last two days weren’t aberrations; Albus was a very busy wizard. She believed that he would truly try to make more time for her, but it was probably best not to count on Albus’s time being his own.

She rolled out of bed and looked out at another glorious day. A nice morning to begin her new regimen of healthy walks. And Occlumency. She couldn’t allow this beautiful friendship developing with Albus to be derailed by uncontrollable physical reactions.

Minerva showered quickly and chose a set of deep green robes with a v-neck and long sleeves. It was still quite cool out, so, paired with a light-weight cloak, the green outfit seemed appropriate, although she never would have worn it in London in July. She sat at her dressing table and gazed at her reflection a moment. Perhaps some kind of chignon? A wave of her wand, and the sides of her hair were pulled back gently from her face, gathered in a pony-tail, and loosely wound at the back of her head; another swish, and the hair that still hung down her back was gathered, flipped up, and wrapped around the first low bun. A few Charmed hairpins later, and Minerva was satisfied. She hesitated, then inserted a few more hairpins for good measure. It didn’t really matter what she looked like, of course, and if her hair came down a bit, there wouldn’t be anyone to see her, anyway.

After a quick cup of tea, Minerva grabbed her light-weight green tweed cloak and set off for her walk. It was a brisk morning, but Minerva walked quickly around the greenhouses and toward the lake. As she walked, she thought that on such a gorgeous day, she should really take a bit of a run. With a pop, she Transfigured to her Animagus form and began to trot along briskly. She was less interested in the lake now, though, and veered off toward the edge of the forest, following it along and occasionally breaking into a brief sprint. Near Hagrid’s cabin, there was a stand of trees that didn’t quite belong to the Forbidden Forest, and it was those trees that called her. It had been too long since she had climbed a tree!

Reaching the small grove, Minerva first sharpened her claws vigorously on an old, rough-barked tree. It felt very good. The ground was still a bit dewy, but there were some old, dry leaves left from the previous fall, and she couldn’t resist rolling in them a bit. In the years since she had become an Animagus she had passed through phases of being more and less comfortable in the form until now she felt almost as at ease in her tabby skin as she did in her ordinary one. Minerva stretched, chin almost to the ground, tail high, then took off at a break-neck pace, chasing at nothing around and through the trees. Coming upon a nice specimen with well-spaced branches, Minerva leapt the first five feet from the ground to the trunk of the tree, grabbing onto it with all her claws. She hadn’t done this in a while, and she almost slipped before she had her grip established. From there, it was an easy job to climb to a nice branch about twenty feet up. She could probably have climbed a bit further, but Minerva was sure this limb would support her quite comfortably, and the narrower branches above didn’t look as secure.

Minerva stretched out along the branch, which was directed toward Hagrid’s hut and the castle. She had never had any success practising Occulmency exercises whilst in her Animagus form, more’s the pity, because that tree branch would have been such a comfortable place to do so. Unfortunately, although it was quite suited to her current form, Minerva doubted that the branch would support her in her ordinary form.

Minerva half-dozed, eyes slitted, when she suddenly perked up. Someone was coming down from the castle. Another early riser. A witch, from the look of it. Wilhemina, she guessed, even before she could see her very clearly. There weren’t very many people left in the castle. Instead of heading toward the paddock, Minerva was somewhat surprised to see Wilhemina approach Hagrid’s cabin. Well, perhaps she had arranged for him to assist her with something before breakfast.

Minerva could hear Wilhemina knock on the door, then Hagrid must have told her to enter, because she opened it immediately and entered. Minerva shifted slightly on her branch, watching curiously. Just two or three minutes later, the door opened again, and Wilhemina reappeared. Hagrid was behind her in the doorway, dressed only in an old pair of undershorts. Minerva was more than slightly surprised that Wilhemina would have walked in on him like that, not to mention that Hagrid was not scrambling for his clothing. Of course, perhaps he had, and what he was wearing was the result.

Minerva wished she’d chosen a tree just a bit closer to Hagrid’s cabin. She couldn’t hear very much, but it appeared that they were having words. Or at least that Wilhemina was. Hagrid was just standing there, in the half-open doorway, looking down at her, shaking his head, and making occasional brief responses. Hmm. Perhaps Wilhemina had thought they had an arrangement for that morning, but Hagrid hadn’t realized it, and she was trying to convince him to help her with something despite the early hour. After a few minutes of this, Wilhemina turned around to leave, and Hagrid shut the door. After taking a few steps, Wilhemina turned back toward the door and looked at it for a moment before finally beginning her walk back to the castle.

Well, that was curious. She should get up early and take morning constitutionals for reasons other than her health, it seemed. Minerva wanted to know what was going on, but doubted that she would find out. She couldn’t very well go up to Wilhemina and say, “By the way, Wilhemina, I noticed that you visited Hagrid this morning. While he was dressed in his underwear. What was that all about?” And given how embarrassed Hagrid had seemed when she had seen him with only his shirt off, Minerva doubted that she could broach the subject with Hagrid – at least not directly.

Minerva was beginning to get a bit hungry, so she came down out of her tree and trotted directly toward the castle, thinking of breakfast. She didn’t transform until she reached the great oak doors. Too bad there was no cat door, she thought. It felt good to exercise her Animagus form. She hadn’t done that enough during the last few months. But once Minerva transformed to her ordinary form, she remained in it and began the trek back up to her rooms. She would have to use a Scourgify on her cloak – probably on her robes, as well – after her excursion.

Minerva ate a quick breakfast in her rooms, brought to her by “I, Blampa,” and thought about her meeting later with Albus. They hadn’t set a time, but she thought that she would see if he was in his office a bit later in the morning. Before that, she wanted to gather her research together. Although Minerva was fairly certain that Albus would be familiar with what she had found, she wanted to be prepared in case he had any questions or wanted to refresh his memory. She hated being yet another person making demands on his time, but she thought it only logical to approach him; she’d really rather not go through official channels if she didn’t have to.

Minerva pulled out her oldest and most trusted book on Occlumency, Occlumency: From Clearing to Clouding, and skimmed its table of contents. Opening the book to the chapter titled, “Maintaining Emotions, Mastering Physiological Responses,” Minerva reviewed one of the exercises that she had practised assiduously during her seventh year. She didn’t believe that her practise was a success at the time, but now, as an adult, Minerva believed that her maturity would help her master this particular exercise. It appealed to her because it did not focus on eliminating the emotions altogether, as some of the other exercises did, but only on eliminating the individual’s physiological response to those emotions. Of course, some physiological responses were tied more closely to external stimuli than to a specific emotion – Minerva thought of Albus’s hand on her thigh the evening before at dinner – but the book promised that even those types reactions would be lessened once the technique was fully mastered. She did not want to practise the exercises that aimed at completely eliminating all physiological response to external, emotionally-laden stimuli, insofar as that was even possible, because that would involve divorcing herself too fully from her experiences and her emotions. Minerva thought that would be very unhealthy, particularly if practised on a daily basis. The book even warned of the “rebound effect” that could occur with those exercises – emotional outbursts, hypersensitivity, feelings of rage, and so forth – if a practitioner relied upon them too much. Minerva thought they might be useful if one were a prisoner of war, but were otherwise too dangerous.

Minerva remembered how she had come to view her Occlumency exercises in a different light after her accident in the Transfiguration classroom. It had suddenly occurred to her one day in January that Albus Dumbledore was reputed to be a master Legilimens. Her heart rose to her throat as the fear began to form in her that her professor would be able to look into her mind and see what she was thinking about him, what she was feeling for him, and what she had experienced that day in the classroom. She hadn’t read the Occlumency book very thoroughly before that, concentrating only on the few chapters with exercises that seemed related to her Animagus training, so she went back and re-read the single introductory chapter dealing with Legilimency.

Minerva learned that a highly skilled Legilimens need not even speak the incantation in order to perform Legilimency, and although direct eye-to-eye-contact is often required, some Legilimens were able to perform the spell without it, although obtaining less information than if they had made eye-contact with the object of the spell. In addition, the more emotionally-laden the memory, the more easily a Legilimens could find the memory and view it. Although Legilimency was not mind-reading, and so the person practising it could not “read” the on-going thoughts of another like a book, a Legilimens could easily see the current emotions of the person they were “reading” and could pick up the other person’s concerns and what they were focussed on. The book said that some Legilimens who practised it regularly could pick up another person’s thoughts and emotions without even trying to.

The thought that Dumbledore might read her mind at any time and discover what she felt about him terrified Minerva. Clearly, the thoughts and memories that she didn’t want him to see were highly laden with emotion, and so easy for a Legilimens to find; every time she was with him, she experienced strong emotions. She would be very vulnerable if he used Legilimency on her.

Minerva was trying to gain some control over her emotional response to Dumbledore, but had not made much progress. When he insisted that she return to her Animagus training, Minerva had no idea how she could continue to avoid eye-contact with him. It seemed rude and cold, as it was, but in the context of one-on-one lessons, it seemed impossible. She knew that becoming a truly accomplished Occlumens could take years. Even attaining the stage of being able to Occlude completely without the added finesse of misdirection would be the work of months, probably more without a teacher.

Finally, one day at the beginning of February, Minerva decided to directly address the question with her mentor.

“Professor Dumbledore, I have heard that you are a Legilimens,” Minerva said bluntly.

“Yes, I have studied and practised that Art,” he replied. “If you wish to learn it, I recommend waiting until you have finished your Animagus training, however. It is very demanding, especially if one does not have a natural talent for it.”

“No, no, that’s not it. . . . I was just wondering, um, can you perform it without casting the spell?”

“Yes, I can; why do you ask?”

“I was just re-reading Clearing to Clouding, and I read the chapter on Legilimency. I had some questions, that’s all.”

“I see. And have I answered them all?” Dumbledore asked with a smile.

“Well, no, actually. The book said that if a Legilimens is accomplished enough that they can read someone’s thoughts without even trying to, kind of accidentally. . . .”

“Ah. I see. Yes, occasionally someone’s emotional state is such that they broadcast their feelings and thoughts quite loudly; there was a brief period during which this posed a problem for me. I do not like to eavesdrop on the private, internal thoughts and feelings of another. My control is now such that I have to be consciously ‘listening’ in order to eavesdrop, and I do that very, very rarely. Is that what you were wondering about?”

“Yes, but . . . well, what’s ‘rarely’?”

Albus smiled. “‘Rarely’ means ‘almost never,’ my dear. I would have to have a very good reason for it. I might use it to detect whether someone is lying to me about something of truly vital importance – life and death matters, my dear, not whether someone ate the last biscuit in the staff room biscuit tin. And I would not practise full Legilimency on someone without their permission except under similar circumstances – although that is more difficult than simply ‘eavesdropping,’ and it is hard to prevent the object of the spell from becoming aware of what you are doing, even if you do it without a wand or the incantation.”

“So you wouldn’t just . . . if there were a student, would you . . . .” Minerva didn’t know how to ask her professor if he eavesdropped or practised Legilimency on Hogwarts students.

“If you are asking me whether I practise Legilimency on my students, the answer is ‘no.’ There might come an occasion on which I might believe it appropriate to eavesdrop to a degree, but only, as I said before, in matters of truly vital importance – not to discover whether someone cheated on an exam. I can use completely mundane skills acquired through years of experience to tell whether someone is lying to me about things like that, my dear!” Albus smiled brightly at her.

“So you wouldn’t just . . . read my mind?” Minerva asked hesitently.

“My word, no, Minerva! And certainly if I ever were to use Legilimency on you, I would seek your permission first. I honestly cannot envision any circumstance in which I would even merely eavesdrop on your private, internal thoughts, my dear. I do occasionally pick up on things from you, of course, but without Legilimency involved in any way. I have come to know you fairly well, Minerva, and so I may sometimes accurately guess at your thoughts and feelings.” Albus paused, looking at her. “You know, Minerva, Animagus training, more so than many other branches of magic, requires trust between the student and the teacher. You have told me before that you trusted me. Has that changed? You have been . . . behaving differently since your accident. I truly am sorry that I caused it, you know.”

“Oh, yes, sir, I know you are. And it was an accident, as you say, not your fault. I do trust you . . . it’s just that after reading that chapter, I began to get nervous, that’s all.”

Professor Dumbledore looked at her, somewhat sadly, Minerva thought. “Before you were of age, I would not have practised Legilimency on you in any form even with your consent. Now that you are of age, I still would not do so without your consent.”

“What about those ‘life-or-death’ circumstances?”

“In that case, I have faith in you, enough trust in you, to believe that you would not lie to me about anything, and so it would be unnecessary for me to resort to Legilimency.”

Minerva blushed slightly; of course he trusted her. And she should trust him, as well. For the first time in weeks, Minerva met her professor’s eyes without quickly looking away again.

“Thank you, Professor. I guess I sometimes get silly ideas, that’s all. I do trust you; it’s just the idea of anyone listening to my thoughts or feelings . . . well, like you said, they’re private.”

A silence came over the two, and Minerva thought that Professor Dumbledore was trying to decide whether to ask her anything else. Finally, he said, “Minerva, you know that you can trust me enough to talk to me, to tell me things, and that I would respect your confidences, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied quietly, hoping that he would not again ask her about her feelings about the accident.

“Good. You don’t need to tell me anything at all, of course, but I hope you trust me enough that you feel you could do so.”

“You know that I trust you, Professor.” Feeling as though that answer were incomplete, she continued, “It’s just that sometimes I have to work through things on my own, you know?”

“Yes, I know, Minerva. You are very independent. But if you ever have a burden, know that I am here to share it with, if you wish.” His gentle look as he said those words almost tore through Minerva’s self-control, but she took a steadying breath.

“I am fine. No more burdens than the usual, sir!” She smiled at him.

“All right, then, my dear. I am glad I was able to reassure you.” He hesitated again. “You would tell me, wouldn’t you, if someone were causing you trouble or harming you? You wouldn’t hide such a thing from me?”

“Of course not!”

“No one is bothering you, no boys . . . ?” he trailed off, the question in his voice.

“Oh, no, sir, nothing like that. Really.” Minerva remembered how, in her fourth year, a sixth-year Hufflepuff had tried to poison herself after being repeatedly “bothered” by a pair of Slytherin boys. The girl had never said anything to anyone because, as she later explained, they never really hurt her, they “only” touched her and said disgusting things. Fortunately, she was barely adequate at potions-making, and she survived her suicide attempt. The boys were given detention five nights a week for the rest of the school year and were placed in common-room-confinement at all times they weren’t at meals or in classes. Many thought the punishment was too harsh – after all, they had only teased the girl, they hadn’t poured the potion down her throat – whilst others thought they got off too lightly. However, as a result of their common-room-confinement, their House Quidditch team lost a Beater and a Chaser, so the lesson that certain lines weren’t to be crossed was extended to the rest of Slytherin. Minerva didn’t think it was a lesson that was learned, but Headmaster Dippet made such decisions, not she.

“Good. You would tell me, or another teacher, if someone were bothering you like that, I hope?”

“Of course. But I don’t think anyone would dare,” Minerva said with the confidence of a competent young witch.

“Perhaps not, but many things can happen to any of us that we might formerly believe impossible, Minerva. It is not a weakness to ask for help.”

“I know, sir.”

Minerva hadn’t had another conversation like that with her mentor, although she did believe that Dumbledore was still concerned about her reaction to the accident in the Transfiguration classroom for quite some time. In retrospect, Minerva thought, she should have made up some story for Albus, something that was true enough not to be a lie and yet far enough from the truth that he would not know what it was she had really experienced that evening in the Transfiguration classroom. He would have left the subject alone if Minerva had had some answer for him right from the beginning. It was fine to look back on the events years later and imagine what she might have done differently, but Minerva was quite aware that she still had difficulty as an adult dealing with her feelings for Albus; how could she expect that, at seventeen, she would have been able to deal with them any better?

After Minerva spent almost an hour practising the exercise aimed at mastering her physiological responses, she gathered her curriculum materials and her research into the “Melina-Brennan” problem and headed off to the Headmaster’s office.

Note: I hope you enjoyed this short-ish installment. BTW, if you are interested in reading something else I've begun writing, check out "An Act of Love" over at thepetulantpoetess.com. It's not ADMM focussed, although there is ADMM in it. Only the first chapter's up so far. You will have to be registered at the site, since I've rated it MA (the final chapter will be pretty explicit), and to register, you have to be an adult. I think that TPP defines that as at least 16 years old, but it may be 18 -- you'll see it in their registration terms, I'm sure.

Let me know what you think of this installment!

[lemonygingersnaps]

Very good!!! :-)

[Hogwarts Duo]

Yippeee....an update!

Hmm, Hagrid in undies is an image I could have certainly lived without for the rest of my life...shudders haha. And I must say my curiousity is piqued...great job!

[laundry basket]

Wee, an update!

My love for this story only continues to grow. And what was Wilhemina talking to Hagrid about? Oh, the AD/MMness is lovely. I hope for another update soon!

[MMADfan]

Note: Here's another installment for your reading pleasure! I don't know if I will have a lot of time to write this week, so it may be next weekend before I'm able to update again. I hope this tides you over till then!

Part LI: Requests

Albus sipped his peppermint tea and smiled as he remembered his meeting with Minerva. He had been glad to offer to help her – and Melina, of course – with their slight problem. He had been impressed by the thoroughness of Minerva’s research. He could have saved her quite a bit of time, had she spoken to him about it earlier. Minerva told him that she had wanted to speak with him about it for some time, but an opportunity had never presented itself, so she had used the time to do her research. Albus felt a twinge of regret that he had not made himself more available to Minerva during the term. He now recognised that he had likely subconsciously avoided spending time with her in order to avoid the need to confront the issues that had recently presented themselves rather explosively. He was not usually a man to avoid problems, or even to avoid acknowledging his own weaknesses, but when it came to his relationship with Minerva, it seemed he had repeatedly turned away from her rather than face the truth about his feelings.

Albus sighed. The trouble with facing the truth about his feelings was that now he also had to face the sad fact that came with it: no matter what his feelings were, no matter their strength or their breadth, he could not act upon them in any way other than as a friend. He could no longer bear using the phrases “as a grandfather,” or “with fatherly affection.” What he felt for Minerva made those expressions seem perverse, and Albus knew that however inappropriate his feelings for Minerva might be, they were not perverse. She inspired in him only positive feelings of love and desire, and to claim otherwise would degrade them both.

Minerva had looked quite beautiful that day, rosy-cheeked and happy, her green robes bringing out the colour in her eyes, her hairstyle fetchingly revealing the lovely nape of her neck just begging to be kissed, and calling forth the vision of him loosing her hair from its hairpins and running his fingers through it. . . . These kinds of thoughts would get him into trouble, he was sure of it. But their meeting had been quite satisfying, he thought with a smile. And there was no doubt that when he had left her at her door that evening, she had been reluctant to say good-night – as had he. Of course, her feelings were of a different nature than his own, but he was happy, nonetheless, that she enjoyed his company.

He was reluctant to go to bed; he felt as though, if he were to go to bed and sleep, he would wake up to an entirely different reality in the morning, one in which Minerva viewed him as nothing more than her employer and former teacher. Albus feared that their friendship was ephemeral – a fear that he recognised was unreasonable, even foolish, given all that they had shared over the last few days, let alone what they had shared over the past twenty years. He set down his teacup and prepared for bed. As he fell asleep, he smiled, remembering how lovely it had been to spend more time with Minerva, even if it was just discussing Hogwarts business.

After agreeing that Saturday the twentieth would be the best day to meet with Melina and Brennan, whose name had seemed oddly familiar to Albus, the two had moved on to discuss school business. Albus had broached the subject of Gryffindor House again, and their need for a new Head of House once Wilhemina left. Minerva asked whether he had approached Professor Pretnick about the opening; she said that even though he was a little on the quiet side, he seemed quite nice, and she had heard good things about his teaching.

“I think that he could do quite well, Albus, given the opportunity. And since we don’t know who will be applying for the Magical Creatures position, we can’t count on there being another Gryffindor to choose from.”

“Well, I believe we can, my dear.” At her quizzical look, Albus smiled and said, “Have you forgotten that you are a Gryffindor?”

“Oh, well, I couldn’t be Head of House,” she stammered.

“Why ever not?”

“Well, I’m too young. And I haven’t been here very long – ”

“I don’t believe that there is an age qualification for the position, Minerva. And Robert has been at Hogwarts only six months longer than you, having taken the job when Professor Hardwick retired at the end of last year. I think you would do quite well – unless you don’t want to be considered for some other reason?”

“No! No, I just never . . . I always see you as the Head of Gryffindor House, I suppose. It is odd to imagine anyone else in that position, and very difficult for me to see myself as Head.”

“I understand from Wilhemina that you have been a help to her the last few months.”

“I offered, just once, to help her out when the students were having dinner in their common rooms, and after that, she did ask me my opinion on a few things, yes.”

“She said that when she hasn’t known what to do about a student who’s having some problems, she asks you for your advice, and it’s been invariably good.”

“I am glad she thinks so, Albus, but really, I haven’t done much. It was all just common sense.”

Albus grinned at her broadly. “You see, Minerva, you would do quite well! Would you think about it, for me?”

“Of course I will consider it, Albus. I hope that Pretnick doesn’t feel passed over or slighted – even if it’s only by six months, he’s still been here longer than I have. And he’s older.”

“As I said, there is no age qualification for the position, and I rather doubt that Robert will mind, but I will speak with him, nonetheless, and ask him his opinion. I believe he will also find you the best person for the job.”

The two went on to finish discussing the seventh-year curriculum, by which time it was noon. Albus hesitated to ask her to have lunch with him in his quarters; he felt that too many such invitations might make her suspicious of his intentions. Instead, he suggested that they take a break to eat lunch in the staff room and then pick up their meeting immediately afterward. Minerva expressed some surprise, saying that she hadn’t thought they had anything else to discuss, but that she would be happy to continue their meeting after lunch.

They walked together from the staff room to his first floor classroom and office.

“I thought we could meet in my classroom office, my dear. Probably the last meeting I will hold there.”

“That’s fine, Albus.” As they entered his office, Minerva looked around wistfully. “I remember the first time I was ever in this office. It was my second year, and my Transfiguration teacher was supposedly quite upset with me because I had Transfigured a textbook.” She smiled slightly at the remembrance.

“I, too, remember that meeting very vividly. I am eternally grateful that you found my Gryffindor tea parties so dull that you had to bring a book with you!” Albus laughed.

Minerva laughed, as well. “It wasn’t that they were boring. I was just . . . shy, I guess. I spent most of my childhood around adults. I didn’t have a lot of practice talking with people my own age; I never knew what to say. And I always felt like I never understood the jokes, and as though I found things funny that no one else seemed to. Those Teas were actually good for me, I think. They made me socialise more, and it got easier as I got older. But you are right. I cannot imagine what my life would have been like if I hadn’t gotten to know you, Albus.”

“I believe we would have become friends, regardless,” Albus said. “I doubt I would have failed to notice your talent for Transfiguration, and we . . . we have always got along well. With a few minor hiccups, of course – to be expected in any friendship. But you are right: it is difficult to imagine life without having come to know you when you were a student and, later, as an adult. Extract Minerva McGonagall from my life over the last twenty years, and it seems quite barren!”

Minerva laughed. “Oh, I’m sure it wouldn’t have been at all barren, Albus. But it is very sweet of you to say so.” She looked at him for a moment, “My life, on the other hand, has been shaped so completely by my acquaintance with you, I find it quite impossible to imagine what it would have been like without it. I am certain I would be a different person.”

Albus was suddenly serious, as well. “I do hope that my presence in your life has been a positive thing. I know that you could be doing something quite different now, if you hadn’t agreed to come to Hogwarts to teach.”

“Yes, that is true, Albus. That is one reason the Ministry wouldn’t let me out of my contract early – they had offered me the position of Deputy Minister for Magical Accidents in charge of the Committee for Experimental Transfiguration; they were hoping that if I stayed through my full contract term, they would be able to convince me to take it. I told them last February that I had already agreed to come to Hogwarts, but it wasn’t until I signed the contract last June that they actually believed I was serious. They were rather displeased with me, I’m afraid!” She laughed.

“You might have become a Minister one day, if you had stayed, Minerva. Do you ever regret – ”

“No, I don’t. I never wanted to become a Minister for anything, Albus. If anyone had ever asked me, I would have told them that I wanted to be the Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. I didn’t really believe it would ever happen . . . you were here, and you were clearly not going anywhere. I knew it was likely that you would become Headmaster when Dippet retired – although given that you have refused to be considered for Minister of Magic, I wasn’t sure you wouldn’t refuse Headmaster, as well – but when I heard that Dippet was to retire and you were going to be Headmaster, I still didn’t really believe I would be selected to be the next Transfiguration teacher.”

“Why ever not?” Albus asked, mystified.

“I’m so young. It is very rare for anyone under fifty to become a teacher here, and it is almost unheard of for someone under forty. And to follow you . . . I was sure that there would be some older, very learned Transfiguration Master who would be more appropriate than I,” she answered.

Albus smiled. “I could not hand my students over to anyone else. I never envisioned anyone but you taking the position. I do not know what I would have done, actually, if you had refused me – it. I would have advertised and found everyone else wanting.”

Minerva laughed. “I could never refuse you anything, Albus. And certainly I could not have refused this job!”

“Well, that brings me to one of the reasons we are meeting here, my dear. I noticed that you have settled in quite nicely in your new classroom, so do not feel you must agree to my proposal, but I was wondering if you would care to use this classroom from now on. If not, there may still be some things here that you might like for your own classroom – ”

“No! Oh, I’d like to use this classroom, if that’s really all right?” Minerva seemed hardly able to contain her excitement.

“Of course it’s all right, Minerva!”

“I’d always imagined teaching in this classroom,” she said, turning to look out at the classroom behind them. She sighed. “I suppose I shouldn’t admit this . . . .”

“What, my dear?”

“Well, I’m sure you will find it silly of me, but . . . I had always assumed I would be teaching in your old classroom, the classroom in which I was a student. I was . . . disappointed to find I would not be. Just one of those ridiculous expectations I had. . . .”

“No, not ridiculous at all, Minerva! I wish you had said something to me earlier. I thought it would be easier for you if you had your own classroom, a neutral place to begin your career here. It is difficult to come in and take over a class in the middle of the year. I thought that the students would adjust better to the change if their classes met in a different room. They might have been more likely to accept you for who you are as a teacher, and less likely to make constant comparisons with the teacher who had taught them up until just a few weeks before. I have no doubt that our teaching styles are somewhat similar, since I taught you, but we are . . . temperamentally different. I didn’t think it would be fair to you, my dear, to place yet another hurdle in your path.”

Minerva was silent for a moment as she stood in the doorway and looked out into the eccentric Dumbledoresque classroom. Albus became nervous, afraid that she had taken his words as a criticism or as a negative comparison with himself. Just as he was about to say something reassuring to her, Minerva turned back to him, a slight smile on her lips. “You are always so thoughtful, Albus. I was just thinking of how I would have felt as a student if, half-way through the year, another teacher came into this classroom and replaced you, even if I had been anticipating the change for a year. You are right. I would have been the teacher who was teaching in Professor Dumbledore’s Transfiguration classroom.” She sighed and walked back toward Albus. “I do wish you had explained that to me immediately. Even before I got here, in fact. I was rather unprepared – psychologically and practically – for teaching in a formerly vacant classroom.”

“I am sorry. I just didn’t think of it.” Albus could now understand better something she had said the previous morning at breakfast. “Had I known that you were looking forward to it so, I would have explained and let you know it would be only a temporary situation, just until you were settled.” He stood and sighed, then reached out a hand to her, resting it lightly on her arm. “I think that we both have to learn to talk to each other more. Perhaps it is because we have known each other for so many years . . . and in different contexts. Minerva, my dear, please feel free to talk to me, both as Headmaster and as your friend.”

“I never wanted to seem as though I were asking for anything from you based on our friendship, I suppose. And I also know that you have many demands on your time. I did not want to become just another burden in your life.”

“Minerva, I have told you on many occasions that you could never be a burden. And if you ask something of me as a friend, I shall respond as a friend. If you ask something of me as Headmaster, I shall respond as Headmaster. And if there is ever any confusion or any question, we will discuss it, all right, my dear?”

“You are right, Albus. And very sensible.” She grinned at him. “I guess it’s just an adjustment for us both.”

“Indeed. And I’m still just learning how to be the Headmaster. Despite all of my years here as Deputy Headmaster and the duties that Armando delegated to me, it really has been quite different to actually be the Headmaster. Gertie has been a great help to me. She’s actually more sensible than I. In fact, she asked me why I’d given you the classroom I had. Of course, she never told me that I should impart my reasoning to you, but I’m sure she believed that I would draw that conclusion.” He shook his head slightly.

“I am glad that Gertrude has been such a help to you as your Deputy, Albus. . . . She has been a good friend, as well?” Minerva said, her tone indicating the question in her mind.

“Very much. As I said, she has a great capacity for loyalty, and I have been fortunate enough to have somehow earned that loyalty. I hope that you get to know each other better while you are visiting her in Cornwall.”

“Yes, well, perhaps that is her intent.” Minerva looked out the window and saw Hagrid crossing the lawn, looking somewhat downcast. “Albus, do you know if anything is bothering Hagrid?”

“He has not mentioned anything to me,” Albus replied.

“As you know, we had tea yesterday. I think he’s a bit lonely, but . . . it seems as though there’s something more going on . . . he was perfectly cheerful just a few days ago.”

“It was good of you to go down and see him, Minerva.” Albus smiled. “Seeing the two of you yesterday, talking there by the lake, reminded me of the summer you spent at the castle and the way you spent your entire savings to buy Hagrid that broom then took the time to teach him to fly it.”

Minerva laughed. “As I told Hagrid yesterday, I had fun, too. And it was just a used broom, nothing special, but as soon as I saw that it could carry a family of four, I thought of Hagrid.” She laughed again, remembering their games of Swivenhodge that summer.

“Nonetheless, it was good of you and demonstrated, once again, your sweetness and generosity of spirt, my dear.”

She looked over at him, pulling her gaze from the window, and they caught each other’s eye. Minerva’s breath suddenly caught, then she remembered her Occlumency exercises and calmed her breathing and her pulse. There was such warmth in Albus’s gaze, Minerva felt that his mere glance could sustain her life. Despite herself, she raised her hand to his face, where it hovered a moment before she allowed herself to briefly caress his cheek before she dropped her hand again.

“You are very kind to say such a thing, Albus,” she said softly, lowering her eyes from his, suddenly feeling very exposed despite her physical calm.

Albus cleared his throat. Her touch had unnerved him. She was so dear. Despite his self-control, he wished he were able to tell her, just once, how much she meant to him, how much he loved her, and then just hold her, nothing more, just hold her.

“It is not kindness that inspired me to say it, but truth, or if it was kindness, it was yours, not mine,” he said, somewhat hoarsely.

Minerva looked up at him again. They were so close; she could take one step toward him and wrap her arms around him. But she would not. She had promised Albus truth, but she had never promised him that she would tell him everything. In fact, she had warned him that she could not do so. Still, at some point, avoiding the truth was tantamount to a lie. And just that morning, she had thought that she should have told Albus some part of the truth all those years ago. Perhaps there was some room for a little bit of the truth.

“Thank you, Albus. To hear you say that . . . you are very important to me, Albus. And to have your good opinion means a great deal to me.”

“You have that, Minerva, and much more,” he replied.

For a long while, they stood in companionable silence by the window, looking out across the lawn, watching Hagrid toss bits of food out to the Giant Squid, neither Minerva nor Albus aware that their hands, which rested side-by-side on the sill, had crept closer to each other till they were just touching.

Note: Thank you for all your nice comments.
Next: A visit to Gertrude Gamp at the Gamp family estate.

[FireBird]

Oh, such great updates! How absolutely wonderful!
And we finally get to see what Gertie is up to! Yay! (BTW, I don't think she's evil. She seems pretty cool to me, despite Minerva's minor jealous rages. )

[Hogwarts Duo]

SQUEEEE!!! An update!

That was a lovely chapter, especially the last bit with their hands...awwww. Now if the rest of them would just move a little closer...haha.

Great update! Now I'm greedy and want MORE!!!

[elivania]

That was WONDERFUL!!! I loved the whole scene between them! W00T!!!!! The next installment should be interesting to say the least! ;-)

*Eli*

[Orion's Guard]

Okay, so I'm in the middle of reading this one (it's taken me a few days just to get this far, I'm around part 33). You past time tangents are crazy, but I understand that that's what most of the story is right now. Although, I hope as I keep reading, I get some more of the present time story!

I also find it hard to believe that Albus and Minerva are not closer than they are in the present, when they talk there, it seems like they have some past, but not as extensive as your describing.

I just wanted to let you know I'm reading and enjoying. Thanks.

[twinkle]

I have barely slept last night as I just had to read this story. Once started I couldn't put my laptop away. This is the reason I was so slow in finding all my easter eggs today.

I just love what you have written up to now. Especially the idea of the list Albus made was very cute. While reading this I thought Minerva had to discover it sooner or later. So you had me grinning broadly at around three in the morning.

I'm curious what's comming next when Minerva visits Cornwall. I have quite a strange feeling about Gertrude Gamp. Perhaps I am a little biased against Slytherins? There is just this strange feeling that there is more behind this invitation than her trying to make friends.
Pleaaaase update soon.

Happy Easter to all of you!
(\/)
(. .)
c(")(")

[MMADfan]

Next chapter update: I must apologize to everyone for the delay in getting the next chapter up. I've started writing it, however, and it should be up sometime in the next day or two.
If you are wondering, the chapter title is : A Startling Revelation. (Was that cruel of me?)

twinkle said:

I have barely slept last night as I just had to read this story. Once started I couldn't put my laptop away. This is the reason I was so slow in finding all my easter eggs today.

I will not be responsible for damages incurred or easter eggs not found; this is a "read at your own risk" story! LOL! ;D

twinkle said:

I just love what you have written up to now. Especially the idea of the list Albus made was very cute. While reading this I thought Minerva had to discover it sooner or later. So you had me grinning broadly at around three in the morning.

Thank you! I'm glad people have liked the lists -- I remember when I wrote that chapter thinking that it was a bit too drawn out and that people would get sick of reading the items on his lists. But at least some folks have enjoyed it!

twinkle said:

I'm curious what's comming next when Minerva visits Cornwall. I have quite a strange feeling about Gertrude Gamp. Perhaps I am a little biased against Slytherins? There is just this strange feeling that there is more behind this invitation than her trying to make friends.
Pleaaaase update soon.

I can assure you that there is more to Gertrude's invitation than just wanting to make friends! *grin* And Happy Easter to you, too.

elivania said:

That was WONDERFUL!!! I loved the whole scene between them! W00T!!!!! The next installment should be interesting to say the least!

I'm very glad you enjoyed it. I hope the next installment lives up to your expectations!

hogwartsduo said:

That was a lovely chapter, especially the last bit with their hands...awwww. Now if the rest of them would just move a little closer...haha.

Yeah, the hands . . . . Mmmm. They are very sweet, though, the way they're both kind of oblivious, don't you think?

tigerlime said:

Oh, such great updates! How absolutely wonderful!
And we finally get to see what Gertie is up to! Yay! (BTW, I don't think she's evil. She seems pretty cool to me, despite Minerva's minor jealous rages. )

I absolutely LOVE the fact that everyone has such varied opinions on Gertrude! Just gotta laugh sometimes . . . .

(Thanks to Orion's Guard, too, for the nice review!)

-MMADfan
P.S. The second chapter of "An Act of Love" is up at The Petulant Poetess; the third chapter is in the queue, so should be posted sometime in the next few days -- chapter three has some MMAD lemons in it, just so you're forewarned!

[MMADfan]

Note: All right, this is a long chapter. And when I say "long," I mean practically gargantuan. It will be posted in at least four three parts, but it should be considered all one chapter.

I am sorry it has taken me so long to update; I hope that this chapter makes up for it a little!

Part LII: A Startling Revelation

Minerva woke at six o’clock Monday morning. She had packed for her trip the day before, having made a quick trip to her parents’ house to retrieve some dress robes; she was determined not to worry about how fashionable she appeared or whether she would be able to make conversation with Gertrude’s visiting relatives. After all, she had attended many Ministry functions, and even a few Muggle black-tie affairs, when she lived in London, not to mention that during her apprenticeship in Germany, she had been escorted to a number of rather exclusive parties. It wasn’t as though she were an inexperienced twenty-year-old. And really, how dreadful could those people be?

When Minerva had suggested to Albus the day before that he join her for breakfast, she thought she detected some hesitation before he agreed. She hoped that he wasn’t beginning to twig to her feelings toward him. Just as she was about to withdraw her suggestion, Albus had smiled and accepted her invitation. He said he would come to her at seven o’clock, so she still had an hour yet.

After showering, Minerva selected a robe that she had brought with her from her parents’ the day before. It wasn’t a dress robe per se, but it was, she thought, too flamboyant for Hogwarts. A peculiar slate green, almost the colour of green lake water, the silk robe had a low sweetheart neckline and sleeves that fit closely to the arm until they reached elbow, where they opened into an expansive, wing-like, asymmetrical bell. Silvery-grey embroidery stitched a complex pattern of spirals and waves over the lower half of the sleeves, which was echoed around the neckline and hem. The skirts of the robe consisted of yards and yards of gathered fabric which whished lightly as she walked. Definitely too much for Hogwarts. But she would look respectable enough at the Gamps, she was fairly certain.

Rather than putting her hair in a bun, Minerva took a pair of inlaid hair clips that had been a gift from her mother and drew back the hair from the sides of her face. She then coiled the length of her hair into a roll, exposing her neck. She used a charm, as well as a few hairpins, to hold it in place. Minerva wasn’t sure she liked it; she had seen a similar style in a Muggle magazine the summer before. The woman in the photograph had looked sophisticated and sultry. Minerva didn’t think she could ever pull off sophisticated and sultry, but she really didn’t want to arrive at the Gamps’ looking like a schoolteacher, either – even though she was one. Minerva sighed, regretting for about the hundredth time having accepted Gertrude’s invitation. And Poppy wasn’t even here to ask her opinion, having left for her holiday the day before.

Hoping to achieve at least a modicum of sophistication, Minerva cast a charm to enhance the natural colour of her lips, then, after a slight hesitation, applied a rouging charm to her cheeks. Deciding she looked like a Muggle clown, she reduced the colour in her cheeks until it resembled a healthy glow rather than great red blotches. The woman in the photograph had a curled-under fringe, but Minerva, unaccustomed to using such charms, feared that she would create a fringe only to be unable to reverse it without going to a Diagon Alley hairdresser. Before she had begun seeing Brennan, Melina had often used such charms; perhaps when Minerva returned from Cornwall, she would visit Melina and ask her to show her a few more useful ones.

Minerva hadn’t heard from Melina yet, but she had only owled her the morning before about meeting with Brennan on the twentieth. Melina’s owl would find her in Cornwall, Minerva supposed, provided she used a hearty Post-Owl rather than her aging Tawny, Bootsie – which had a rather disagreeable disposition, in any event. Minerva didn’t think Bootsie had ever delivered a letter without also delivering an unwanted scratch or bite along with it. Of course, if she had been named “Bootsie,” Minerva thought, she might have been equally ill-natured.

After straightening her bedroom, although it didn’t need it, and placing her luggage on her bed, Minerva went into her sitting room and perused her book shelves, looking for something to bring with her to read in the evenings. She had packed the most recent copy of Transfiguration Today, but she might be in the mood for something lighter. Minerva smiled. Something Muggle, in fact. The idea of bringing a Muggle novel into a bastion of pure-blood superiority appealed to her. Melina had recently sent her a copy of a new book by some Russian-American Muggle named Nabokov. Melina claimed it was quite funny, yet sad. Where was it – there. Pnin. Peculiar title, though. And apparently quite filled with modern Muggle notions, from what Melina had told her. Just the ticket for this holiday. Minerva hesitated. She wasn’t entirely sure how prepared she was for “modern Muggle notions,” herself. Better bring something else along, as well, just in case it proved too abstruse for bedtime reading. She plucked an Agatha Christie from her shelf. Not high literature, perhaps, but it wouldn’t keep her up all night reading, either.

Just as she was placing the two books on top of her carpet bag, she heard a clattering and barking coming from the other room. The Silent Knight and his dog – “Fidelio,” Minerva had learned yesterday, was the hound’s name, not, the Knight emphasised, “Fido” – and Minerva ran out to answer the door. A smiling Dumbledore greeted her cheerily and handed her a small wrapped parcel. “For later, my dear,” he said.

“Thank you, Albus! What is it? You really didn’t need to . . . .”

“Of course I didn’t – that’s why it’s a surprise! Open it this evening before you retire – no peeking before then!”

“All right,” she laughed. “I’ll try to restrain my curiosity until then. And it will be nice to have something pleasant to look forward – I’m rather nervous about what other surprises may be awaiting me today.”

“It’s just a little something, my dear. But may I say you look particularly lovely this morning; I am certain you will be the most beautiful witch at the Gamp Estate today, so I hope that is not one of your concerns.”

“Thank you, Albus.” Minerva worked to suppress her blush, with only partial success. “I wasn’t sure. I was wishing Poppy were here, earlier; I wasn’t sure about the hair, the dress, or, well, any of it,” she said, not wanting to mention her lack of practice with make-up charms.

“Your hair is always lovely, Minerva, and those . . . hair things are very nice.” Albus stopped, not sure whether he was saying the right thing or not.

Apparently he was, however, since Minerva brightened and said, “Do you like the hair clips, then? They were a present, but I rarely wear them. I wasn’t sure if they were appropriate or not.” She hesitated. Albus was probably no expert on witches’ fashions, but he had no doubt socialised with the likes of the Gamps for many years. “I also wasn’t sure about the dress; it’s not new – ”

“It is most becoming on you, Minerva. It makes me feel quite guilty that I brought you to Hogwarts where you wear teaching robes almost ten months out of the year. You should not feel out of place in it, I believe – not to mention that it brings out the colour of your eyes.”

Minerva smiled. “Thank you, Albus. You probably think I’m foolish to be nervous.”

“I am afraid that might also be my fault,” he answered with a smile, “isolating you here at Hogwarts when you should be in London, spending your free time . . . doing whatever it is that young witches do. I am certain that you had many beaus who are now pining for your company,” he joked.

Minerva laughed. “Not at all, Albus. Obviously, my life in London was quite different from what it is here at Hogwarts, but nothing like what you are suggesting.” She chuckled at the image of her that Albus was presenting – as though she had been some kind of sought-after heartbreaker. She had dated now and again, but nothing serious since she had returned from her apprenticeship almost eight years ago, and she certainly had never been as popular among the wizards as Albus seemed to think. Minerva suspected that word had got around that she was “independent” and not looking for a relationship – not to mention that she put off any physical intimacies with every wizard she had dated. She had probably got the reputation, at best, of being cold, at worst, of leading men on. It was nice that Albus thought she might have been popular, though. Quite sweet of him. Of course, had he been one of the wizards seeking her attentions in London, it would have been quite a different story. . . . Minerva quashed that thought firmly. Albus would certainly have been interested in a more mature, more interesting, and more sophisticated witch than she.

She excused herself for a moment, and after safely putting Albus’s present in her carpet bag, Minerva called Blampa to serve breakfast. She was glad that Albus had agreed to join her that morning; it kept her from becoming more nervous about her upcoming trip. She really wasn’t sure why she should be so apprehensive about it; as Minerva had told herself before, it wasn’t as though she were a complete social novice. And she had certainly dealt with many difficult people before, so Gertrude’s relatives shouldn’t pose too much of a problem for her. No, it had more to do with her uneasiness with the invitation itself. Gertrude’s motivations were still opaque to her. All the more reason to go, she reminded herself.

Time passed quickly as Albus and Minerva ate breakfast and talked. He had owled the advertisements to the publishers, so he anticipated that they would begin receiving responses soon, although it would be a few weeks before each of the journals had published their next issue, so they would probably continue to trickle in for some time. Minerva promised that as soon as they began receiving owls from applicants for the Care of Magical Creatures position, she would start reviewing them and sending out acknowledgements right away. Better to keep up with it from the start, she thought, although they could wait to make any decisions about who to consider.

Minerva sighed when she realised that it was ten minutes to eight. She really would prefer to stay at the castle with Albus . . . not that he would necessarily have any time for her, but she could see him at meals. As much as Minerva was determined to mask her feelings for him, the more time she spent with him, the more time she wanted to spend with him. It was probably a good thing for her to get away for a few days.

“Well, my dear, it is almost time for your Portkey. I suppose you will want me to leave so that you can gather your things.”

“No need for that, Albus. I am all packed. I just need to stow my books in my bag, and I can be off. The Portkey is active for a half hour, so there’s no real hurry.” Minerva thought of something. “Have you been to the Gamps before, Albus? The reason I ask is that I was wondering where I’d be likely Portkeying to.”

“Ah, yes, I have. You will most likely arrive in their small vestibule which has been designated for such purposes, although you may also arrive in front of the house, on their drive.”

“All right, then. So I’ll be prepared to find myself either in a small, closed space or outdoors!” She smiled. “I’m sure I will manage.” Minerva hesitated. She really was loathe to say good-bye to him this morning, and despite his words, Albus had made no move to rise from the table. “If you’d like, if you have the time and don’t mind, I would be happy if you saw me off. You don’t have to, of course,” she added hastily.

But Albus smiled and said, “I would love to, my dear.”

“I’ll just fetch my bag, then.”

“You can Portkey from within your rooms, Minerva; no need to fetch it . . . unless you wish to. I can, of course, see myself out. Unless you would prefer not to, of course, in which case, we can just step outside your door together.”

“No, I had planned to Portkey from here. I’m sure you can be trusted, Albus!” she laughed. “In fact, if you would like to borrow any of my books, please feel free to. I doubt I have any scholarly texts that you don’t already own, but I do have some literature, which you may enjoy.”

“I may peruse your shelves, then, although I confess I have little time for pleasure reading.”

“It’s important that you find time to relax occasionally, Albus, or you’ll wear yourself out!”

“Very well, Mother McGonagall, I will find a nice novel and take your advice,” he replied with a grin.

“Well, I suppose there’s no point in putting this off any longer. Blampa will take care of the breakfast dishes after we’ve left.” Minerva got up and Albus followed her into her bedroom.

He smiled as he saw her tuck her books into her bag. “It is good to see you follow your own advice, then, regarding reading material.”

“Yes, although I did pack Transfiguration Today, as well.” Minerva closed up her bag and turned to face him.

“If I wish to return a book in your absence, may I let myself in?” Albus asked, then added quickly when he saw the expression on Minerva’s face, “That was rude of me. I am sorry, my dear. Just another symptom of feeling comfortable with you.”

“No, not at all, Albus. And of course you may let yourself in. I am glad you feel so comfortable with me . . . and after all, you have charmed your stairs to recognise me.” Despite herself, Minerva blushed. “It’s just that my password . . . .”

“You needn’t share it with me, Minerva. I was far too presumptuous.”

“No, it’s not that. And I’m sure that, as Headmaster, you could gain access to any rooms in Hogwarts without needing a password.”

“I don’t, though. Except perhaps in an emergency.” Albus seemed eager to reassure her of that fact.

“I wasn’t suggesting you wander about the castle entering others’ private quarters, Albus,” Minerva said with a chuckle. “For one thing, you are far too busy! No, that is not my concern, it’s just that my password is a bit silly. Just slightly embarrassing. That’s all.”

“More embarrassing than ‘Chocolate Frog’ or ‘Peppermint Imp’?” he asked, smiling.

“I happened to be thinking of you at the time.” Minerva took a deep breath. “It’s ‘alvarium album.’”

“Hmm. Not ‘apiarus albus’?” he asked with a smile, reminding her of his nom de plume.

“No,” Minerva’s blush deepened. “That would have been even more embarrassing, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, Minerva. It’s rather flattering, actually.”

Minerva noticed that Albus seemed to be blushing slightly, himself. She said, “I hadn’t thought I’d be sharing it with anyone. . . . If it’s inappropriate – ”

“Flattering, not inappropriate,” Albus answered. He smiled happily at her. “Now, you do not wish to miss your Portkey!”

“No, no, of course.” Minerva picked up her carpet bag and the Portkey with her left hand. “I will see you in a few days, Albus. Feel free to borrow any books you like, in the meantime.” She raised her hand for him to shake, and was momentarily surprised when he took it in his left hand instead of his right. He stepped closer to her and placed his other hand on her arm.

“I hope that you enjoy your trip, Minerva, or that you will at least find it interesting. I look forward to hearing all about it on your return.” Albus leaned toward her and kissed her cheek gently. He drew away, releasing her hand and stepping back.

Minerva let out a breath she hadn’t known she had been holding. Albus was smiling at her, his cheeks still slightly pink from his earlier blush of embarrassment. She remembered herself and returned his smile. “I will look forward to telling you about it, then.” Wishing she wasn’t leaving, Minerva concentrated on the green ribbon in her hand and said, “Ducere.”

Chapter to be continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Part LII: A Startling Revelation, continued

The familiar and unpleasant sensation of Portkeying overtook her, and within seconds, she found herself looking at a face quite different from Albus’s. She had apparently been deposited in the vestibule, as Albus had said she might, and there was an old grey house-elf with great, hairy ears waiting for her. When Minerva appeared, he hopped off the bench and bowed low, his ears sweeping the floor.

“Krantzy is happy to be welcoming the Professor McGonagall of Hogwarts to the Noble House of Gamp. May Krantzy serve and assist the Professor McGonagall with her bag?” the elf asked, his eyes fixed on the hem of Minerva’s dress.

“Yes, thank you, Krantzy.”

“Oh, Krantzy not be thanked! No no. Brue will bring the Professor McGonagall to see Madam Gamp, yes, and Krantzy bring bag to the Professor McGonagall’s room. Yes?”

“Um, yes,” Minerva replied, wondering whether “Madam Gamp” was Gertrude, her mother, or some other household matriarch. The house-elf popped away with the carpet bag, never having looked up at Minerva’s face. Almost immediately, he was replaced by another house-elf, a younger one, from the look of it. He – Minerva believed it was a “he” – was wearing two tea towels tied together at the shoulder, belted with what looked like an old curtain tie-back.

The elf glanced very quickly at Minerva’s face before bowing low. His ears were much smaller than Krantzy’s were, and so did not reach the floor, but his long nose touched his toes. “Brue brings the Madam Professor to Madam Gamp now,” he squeaked, his statement sounding more like a question.

“That would be fine, Brue,” Minerva said, carefully not thanking the elf. She followed the small, bluish fellow out of the vestibule into a large entrance hall, past a grand staircase, and a short way down an open corridor to a set of white double doors. Brue flicked a forefinger at them and the left-hand door opened to reveal a large, bright room with a high ceiling and many windows. Minerva didn’t have the opportunity to look around much, however, because the house-elf led her through the room to a set of French doors that opened out onto a terrace.

Brue bowed and indicated that Minerva should precede him through the doors. As soon as she had passed through them, there were two cracks in quick succession. Brue was now standing beside a chaise on which a witch was reclining and reading the Daily Prophet.

Brue bowed deeply. “The Professor McGonagall of Hogwarts School,” he announced in his high-pitched voice, then, with another crack, he was gone.

The witch turned her head and stood. Minerva saw that it was, indeed, Gertrude; she hadn’t immediately recognised her because of the large-brimmed, woven hat that she was wearing – and the fact that, rather than her usual school attire, Gertrude was wearing a fine, pale blue robe with three-quarter sleeves. Minerva felt foolish for assuming that Gertrude would wear the same drab and unadorned robes as she did at school.

Gertrude smiled. “Welcome, Minerva. No problems with the Portkey, I trust?”

“It was a very smooth arrival, Gertrude, thank you.”

“I was just having some coffee, but I haven’t eaten yet. I was hoping you might join me.” She indicated the round table a few feet away, set for two.

“I ate something before I left, but I would be happy to have some tea,” Minerva replied.

Gertrude snapped her fingers and another house-elf appeared.

“Shirfy is happy to serve,” squealed the elf with a curtsy.

“Good, Shirfy. I’ll be having breakfast now, and bring tea for our guest.”

The two witches sat, and Minerva felt at quite a loss for words. She looked out at the view afforded by the veranda, which was slightly higher than the surrounding garden. “What a lovely garden,” she offered, glad she had found something to say. It truly was a lovely garden, as well.

“It is one of the pleasant aspects of the estate,” Gertrude said, nodding. “After breakfast, we can take a walk in the garden. And later this afternoon, if you like, we might change clothes and have a bit of a tramp.” Gertrude took a sip of her tea. “There are some interesting features. Standing stones and such. We also have a rather nice hill fort. Not fully intact, of course, but hasn’t been trampled by a lot of Muggles grubbing about for building materials or artifacts. Our Muggle-Repelling wards are among the most extensive in Britain. Grandfathered in when the Ministry began regulating such things more tightly.”

Minerva wasn’t quite sure what to say to this information, and so was quite pleased when Shirfy reappeared with their breakfast. Despite having had breakfast already, Gertrude encouraged her to try some of the cheese and the fresh rolls.

“The cheese is local. I prefer this sort of breakfast. Bread, cheese, fruit. Something I miss.”

“I’m sure you could ask for this kind of breakfast at Hogwarts. The elves, I’ve found, are fairly agreeable in accommodating one’s preferences.”

Gertrude gave a short, barked laugh. “Yes, they are. And during the summer, or whenever I take breakfast in my rooms, I do that. But it isn’t concern for the house-elves’ inconvenience that keeps me eating the same cold toast and egg every morning.”

“You . . . want to eat what the rest of the staff is eating?”

“Mmm. Although I draw the line at porridge. Forced too much of it down my throat as a child,” she said with a grin.

Minerva, who had become accustomed to eating bread and cheese for breakfast when she apprenticed in Germany and had come to like it, herself, pulled a crusty roll apart and closed it around some pale yellow cheese. The two witches ate in silence, but Minerva was pleased to find that she no longer felt as uncomfortable. After finishing her roll and taking a sip of tea, Minerva looked out over the garden and could see where the carefully-groomed acreage ended and the rougher, wilder lands began.

“I would enjoy a walk this afternoon, I think. When I visit my parents’ home, I take walks every day, usually along the cliffs and, sometimes, even down to the shore to walk beside the sea . . . .”

“Not something you could do in London. You lived there a number of years, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but there are wonderful parks in London. On a Sunday, I would sometimes take a book and go sit in one of the parks, but I rarely read much. I would watch the people go by, mostly.” She smiled crookedly. “Anyway, I enjoyed taking walks in the parks there, although it is, of course, very different from walking out in the country.”

“Did you spend a lot of time in Muggle London, then?”

“Some. Quite a bit, I suppose. Life would have been rather dull if I had confined myself to the Ministry and Diagon Alley, after all.” Minerva wondered whether Gertrude’s question had been a veiled criticism of her enjoying what Muggle London had to offer. It was not an attitude that she had observed in Gertrude before, but they had never really spoken of anything that was not school-related, either. Minerva found it hard to believe that someone who disliked Muggles could be very close to Albus, though, since he was well-known to appreciate Muggles and harbour no prejudices against them. And Albus seemed to . . . like Gertrude, as well.

“Yes, I suppose it could be, particularly when you’re young and energetic. I haven’t lived in a Muggle city for so long, I have forgotten what it’s like.”

“You lived in a Muggle city?”

“Mmm-hm. More than one. Not at the same time, of course,” Gertrude responded with a crooked smile. “I spent several years in Berlin during the twenties. And when I was first married, we lived in York, which, while not a city, is quite definitely Muggle.”

Minerva almost choked on her tea, but recovered quickly. “You were married? I’m sorry if I am rude to ask, but I didn’t know, and your name – ”

“It’s not just Scottish witches who may prefer to keep their family name, you know,” Gertrude said mildly. “Although I was flexible – I answered to ‘Gertrude Crouch’ if someone wished to call me that.”

“And, if I might ask, what happened?”

“Killed. By Grindelwald. Early. One of his first British victims. One of his first victims at all, actually.” Gertrude held her coffee cup in front of her and gazed out over the gardens.

Minerva now felt as though she had trespassed where she had no right to be. “I’m sorry. . . .”

“Hmm?” Gertrude looked over at her, slightly bemused. “Oh, it’s a long time ago now. Reginald was a Gryffindor and he never disappointed me.” Her cheek twitched. “I don’t suppose I could have expected him to live a nice quiet life, get ahead in the world, survive to dandle grandchildren on his knee, and what not. I am proud to say, however, that he was one of the earliest to realise the danger Grindelwald presented and to oppose him, and that Grindelwald perceived him to be such a threat that he took the first opportunity to kill him.”

Minerva sat, somewhat overwhelmed by these revelations. Since Gertrude seemed to be so forthcoming, she asked, “That was before you came to Hogwarts?”

“Yes, several years before, in fact. Albus was . . . supportive. And when he asked me to come to the school to teach Arithmancy and to help him with the wards, it didn’t seem as though there was anything better I could be doing. So I joined him at Hogwarts.” She finished her coffee and stood. “You know, I think I feel rather like having that tramp this morning. Do you mind leaving the civilised garden stroll for later in the day and joining me now?”

“No, that would be fine.” Minerva looked down at her voluminous skirts. She really didn’t want to Transfigure them. She thought that clothes wore out more quickly if you Transfigured them every time you turned around, and so generally restricted herself to simple colour charms when she felt the urge to alter something.

“Good. I will show you to your room myself, then, and we can change into something more suitable.”

Gertrude led Minerva through the large house, up the grand staircase, and along a hallway to the room she would be staying in. The bright, comfortably furnished room had east-facing windows. A large four-poster bed was against one wall, but in no way could it be said to dominate the large room, and there was a small sitting area across from a fireplace. There was an inlaid screen in one corner that concealed a washbasin and marble-topped vanity.

“You can wash up here, as there’s hot and cold running water. I’ll show you where the toilet and the bath are before I go to change. The house-elves have no doubt unpacked for you and hung your clothes in the wardrobe.”

Minerva was not particularly pleased with the idea of the Gamp house-elves unpacking her bag. She hoped they hadn’t done anything odd with Albus’s present – or unwrapped it! That thought reminded her, however, that she had brought a bottle of very old Scotch whisky with her as a gift for Gertrude. She had no idea if Gertrude drank whisky – or if she might even be offended by receiving something so Muggle in origin – but her father had given it to her when she had come by the house the day before to retrieve her dress robes, and he had assured her that it would be most appropriate, and if it wasn’t appreciated, it was a sure sign her hosts had no taste whatsoever.

“Just a moment, Gertrude. I have something for you, if I can find it.” Minerva took a look and found that, although her clothes had been unpacked, the house-elves had left everything else in her carpet bag, which was on the floor of the wardrobe. She pulled out the bottle of whisky. “Not a very ceremonious presentation, I’m afraid, Gertrude, but I thought you might like this.”

Gertrude took the bottle of Scotch whisky and read the label closely over her lowered glasses. Smiling, she pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “This looks quite nice, thank you, Minerva. I will offer it around after dinner, I believe. Which reminds me, there are a few other guests here at the moment, and more to arrive later today and tomorrow, so you may run into a few. If they haven’t the good manners to introduce themselves, don’t let it bother you. Just ignore them or introduce yourself, whatever you wish.”

After Gertrude had shown her the bathroom and toilet, she said, “I’m one floor above you, in this same wing of the house. If you need me, you can call Brue, and he will find me, or you can just wander up there. Third door on your left.” She turned to leave, then stopped. “Oh, I often prefer to wear trousers when out for a hike, much to the horror of my family.” She grinned. “I’m afraid I’m rather scandalous. Anyway, if you’d like to borrow some trousers, you could Transfigure them to fit you. I’ll send a pair down with Brue.” With that, Gertrude left Minerva standing outside the bedroom door. Trousers?

Minerva returned to the bedroom, wondering what the etiquette was in refusing the offer of an article of clothing. Her father hated trousers and, if he had to be out amongst Muggles, would sometimes even don a kilt in order to avoid them – although he always said he didn’t have the knees for them, not to mention that he felt chilly. Murdoch and Morgan often wore trousers, since they lived in such close proximity to the Muggle world, and once they had left school, Carson had worn trousers every day. He said he had grown up wearing them and that he actually preferred them to robes. Minerva, however, had never worn a pair of trousers in her life. She knew that some Muggle women were beginning to wear them occasionally, and Minerva supposed that for some types of Muggle work, trousers were more practical than skirts, but she simply couldn’t imagine wearing them herself. When she went for her walks, she always just shortened her robes a bit and made sure she was wearing stout shoes.

As she was standing in the centre of the bedroom pondering the peculiarity of witches in trousers, Brue popped in, a neatly folded article of clothing hovering above his head, no doubt the trousers that Gertrude had promised her. Minerva reached out and mechanically took them from the elf. Without a word, Brue popped away again.

Minerva held up the trousers, shaking out the folds. Unremarkable. Brown. Two legs. An opening at the top. Buttons. Belt loops. No, Minerva just couldn’t imagine herself wearing such a garment. On the other hand, who knew what kind of “tramp” Gertrude had in mind. She hesitated. Sometimes when scrambling along the cliffs, she had had to split her skirts with a charm in order to give herself enough room to move about and not get caught or trip. Of course, there was usually no one with her to see her half-naked legs. These trousers would at least cover her completely.

Minerva undressed, carefully hanging her robe in the wardrobe. She found a pale blue robe that buttoned up the front and, with a slight grimace at the violence she was about to do, cast a severing charm, removing the skirts. Another quick charm, and her new blouse had a hem. With some trepidation, Minerva put on the top, exchanged her stockings for a pair of woolen socks, and then stepped into the trousers. They were too long and too big through the middle. Minerva removed them and Transfigured them to fit her. After trying them again and deciding that they fit, she pulled on a pair of dragon-hide boots.

She uneasily turned to look in the mirror and was surprised to find that she didn’t look as outlandish as she felt. Although she would have to do something about her hair. Sighing, thinking of the effort she’d taken with it, Minerva removed the hairclips and hair pins and ended the charm holding her hair in its coil. She shook it out, brushed it, and charmed it into a braid before pinning it into her usual bun.

Minerva took a few minutes to use the loo, then went back to the bedroom to wait for Gertie. She hoped that they didn’t meet anyone on their way out of the house. This was not the first impression she wanted Gertrude’s relatives to have of her. She began to worry that Gertrude had only sent her the trousers to see if she would be fool enough to actually wear them, and she was just about to change out of them into a more sensible robe when there was a knock at the door.

“Minerva? Ready to go?”

Minerva sighed. Too late now. She opened the door to find Gertie standing there dressed in dark grey trousers and white blouse, her hat in her hand. “Good, you decided to try them. I wasn’t sure. Most witches look at me like I have two heads when I offer to loan them a pair of trousers. Hoped you wouldn’t be typical. Need a hat?”

Minerva had only brought her peaked dress hat, and she doubted that would be appropriate for wearing with her current outfit, but she shook her head. Who knew what kind of hat Gertrude would offer her, after all.

They left the house, and Minerva could hear plummy voices coming from one of the rooms as they passed by, but they met no one on their way out. Minerva felt strangely naked in the trousers and took short steps; she had no idea how Gertie could walk about in them so freely.

As they crossed the lawn, Gertrude looked over at her and gave her another of her half-grins. “You usually stride along so confidently, Minerva. It’s even easier to do that in trousers. Come along.” Gertrude picked up her pace, forcing Minerva to lengthen her stride in order to keep up with her.

As they walked, Minerva became more comfortable and realised it was rather liberating to be wearing the somewhat close-fitting trousers. Gertrude pointed out various landmarks of interest, and Minerva could see the remains of a hill fort in the distance. The land on which the Gamp Estate sat was gently undulating for the most part, but the hill fort sat up on a higher hill with steep sides.

“It seems that the people who built the original fort first enhanced the hill, building it up, making it both higher and steeper. From the west, the rise is gentler and the ditches more degraded with time, but I always prefer this approach.”

Gertrude went on to explain that the hill fort had originally been constructed approximately two thousand years before, and reused on and off by succeeding generations until it was abandoned during the Roman occupation of Britain. The main portion that was now visible had been rebuilt during the sixth century and expanded to include an animal enclosure on the west side. The ditches they were now clambering through had once been deeper, with steep walls, and were meant to provide another layer of defence before one reached the fort’s first stone wall.

After climbing through two ditches and the remains of the hill fort’s two outer walls, the witches finally reached the top of the hill and the main structure. Much of the fort wall was still whole, rising to over twenty feet in height at some points. Gertie led Minerva over some fallen rock and into the fort itself. “Careful here. There are steps, but they aren’t completely intact. You’ll have to do some scrambling.”

Minerva followed Gertie up the ancient stone stairs that hugged the eastern wall. She could tell even more clearly now that the main fort had consisted of a circular stone tower. The reached the top, and Gertrude pulled herself to the top of the broad wall and proceeded to walk confidently a few more feet before she sat and dangled her feet over the edge. “You won’t find the likes of this anywhere else, I’d imagine.” She grinned. “Of course, I haven’t tried to, either. One castle is enough for me,” she joked.

Minerva, despite a childhood spent clambering about the rocky cliffs near her home, was less comfortable with the idea of climbing up onto the broken wall. After a moment’s hesitation, during which she reminded herself, first, that she was a Gryffindor and a McGonagall and, second, that it was unlikely that the Deputy Headmistress would want to have to tell Dumbledore that she’d got his new Transfiguration teacher killed, Minerva took a deep breath, grasped the edge of the wall, scrambled a bit, then pulled herself up. Feeling less confident than Gertrude, who was, after all, familiar with the site, Minerva declined to stand, instead transforming herself to her Tabby form to walk over and join the other witch. She sat and looked out. It truly was a magnificent view. Glancing slightly to her right, Minerva could see the Gamp house, megaliths dotting the landscape between the cultivated lawn and the hill fort. With a slight pop, she returned to her ordinary form.

“This is quite a view. Do you come here often – when you are home, I mean.”

Gertrude gazed out over the rolling countryside. “Not as much as I used to. I thought you might like it.”

This chapter is continued in my next post!

[MMADfan]

Part LII: A Startling Revelation, continued

The two sat in silence for a while, legs dangling over the edge of the stone wall. Minerva glanced surreptitiously over at the older teacher. Gertrude looked quite relaxed, her hat pushed back slightly on her head as she surveyed the landscape before her. She certainly was not the one-dimensional witch Minerva had always perceived her to be. She still did not know why Gertie had invited her to come to Cornwall, though. It couldn’t have been simply to share the view from the top of her “castle.” For someone like Albus, that might have been reason enough, but not for a witch like Gertrude, who, despite some of her idiosyncrasies, was still a Slytherin, Minerva reminded herself.

The thought of Albus distracted Minerva from her musings about Gertrude’s motivations. Remembering his gentle kiss before she Portkeyed away, Minerva’s heart rate increased. It was just a friendly kiss on the cheek, but it had been so very sweet, all the more so for being unexpected. Minerva flushed with the memory of her hand in his, his breath on her face, his lips on her skin . . . . Minerva blinked. It had been a friendly kiss, that was all. Nothing more. Minerva stole a glance at Gertrude; the older witch was sitting there looking out at the scenery, a contemplative expression on her face.

Minerva looked down at her legs encased in the borrowed trousers. She had gone to considerable trouble to make a good first impression on Gertrude’s relatives, and now they would likely meet her while she was dressed like an American hillbilly. Not that she had any idea how a hillbilly dressed, but she did know that she certainly wasn’t looking particularly respectable at the moment. She smiled slightly. At least she had made a good impression on Albus; he had liked her “hair things.” She wanted to laugh, thinking of it now, but Gertrude would think she had lost her senses. Which she no doubt had: she was sitting twenty feet up on a stone wall, wearing trousers, and trying not to daydream of a wizard who was far beyond her reach, not to mention that he was over three times her age. Albus surely looked upon her as a granddaughter and would be appalled if he had an inkling that her feelings went the direction they did.

Minerva sighed as she reminded herself, for the thousandth time, at least, of the cold, hard reality of her situation. Even if he didn’t look upon her as a granddaughter, there was very little likelihood that he could ever return her feelings. . . . It would never occur to Albus to view her in that way, Minerva was sure. He had known her since she was twelve, after all. It’s not as though he would wake up one day, take a look at her, and think that she was an attractive witch whom he might like to see socially, perhaps even to court her, or however he might think of dating.

Minerva took a deep breath and sat up straighter. Were they just going to sit here the rest of the morning? They hadn’t been there that long, actually, but Minerva was growing slightly uncomfortable on the cold stone. Gertrude looked serene, however, and unlikely to move any time soon.

“Would you mind if I got down, explored a little?” Minerva asked. “I thought perhaps in my Animagus form, if that’s all right with you.”

Gertrude turned her head and nodded. “Be careful, though. The stone blocks may look secure, but they do sometimes fall or shift. If you end up somewhere you can’t get out of . . . well, I suppose I’ll find you.” She turned back to her silent contemplation of the green vista before her.

After that remark, Minerva wondered whether exploring on her own was such a good idea after all, but not wanting to sit still any longer, she cautiously stood and walked along the wall back to the broken stair. Now that she had been sitting up there for a while, it didn’t seem as precarious. She sat and lowered her legs over the edge and slid down to the first step. Deciding to wait till she had reached the bottom to transform, she carefully climbed back down the stairs. With a whisper of a pop, Minerva Transfigured into her Tabby form and began to explore the rock-strewn floor of the hill fort. After she had satisfied her curiosity there, she climbed back out over a broken spot in the wall.

She was looking south now; the Gamp house was to the east. Minerva could still see standing stones peppering the landscape below. She leapt on top of a large stone that must have fallen from the tower many years ago, and lay down on the sun-warmed rock. Placing her head on her paws, her mind turned again to Albus. She recognised that she should not think about him so much. It wasn’t healthy. She simply could not help it, though. Minerva stretched her legs and flipped her tail over them. Eyes half-open, she watched some birds swoop and land on some rocks nearby, then fly away again. Her human thoughts predominate that morning, she felt very little urge to chase after them.

Gertie had certainly made some remarkable disclosures over breakfast. Minerva had never dreamed that Gertrude had ever been married. She was aware of other of her former teachers who had been married – even to each other, although that was not supposed to be general knowledge – but it never would have occurred to Minerva that Gertie ever would have married. Gertrude’s life, as far as Minerva had ever been able to tell, consisted of Hogwarts and Dumbledore, with occasional visits to Cornwall. She had said that Albus had been supportive of her. Minerva inferred from the way she had said it that he had been helpful to her after her husband had been killed by Grindelwald. One of his first victims, she had said. That must have made it the late twenties or early thirties, Minerva supposed. Gertrude had been a widow for twenty-five or thirty years, then. And had spent almost the last twenty of them at Hogwarts. With Albus. Because he had asked her to come. He, not Dippet.

Minerva blinked slowly and curled a paw under her chin. That was the part about Gertrude Gamp that had always disturbed her, she realised. Gertrude had an easy, open relationship with Albus. Minerva had been able to recognise that even when she had been a student. Oh, Gertrude herself still seemed stiff and detached, of course. It wasn’t as though she ever became bubbly or emotional around him. But Gertrude always seemed to . . . unbend somewhat when she was with Albus, and she was more demonstrative with him than Minerva had ever seen her be with anyone else. And she allowed Albus to take her arm or place his hand on her shoulder . . . Minerva couldn’t imagine anyone else even thinking to do so.

But Albus was a naturally warm person – not that he tended to be overly physically demonstrative, but he easily bestowed an affectionate smile on his friends and students and would often pat someone on the shoulder or hand briefly. It should not be surprising that he would offer Gertie gestures of affection, particularly if they had known each other for a while even before she came to teach at Hogwarts, and if they were somewhat warmer gestures than those he gave others, that should not be surprising, either. And that she should accept them from a friend who had supported her during a difficult time in her life was not an odd thing. However, that Gertrude, a naturally reticent and undemonstrative witch, might return those gestures did seem noteworthy. Not that Minerva had witnessed many such occasions, of course. But the one occasion that did stick out in her mind had created an image that Minerva had never been able to dislodge from her memory.

Minerva remembered arriving in the Astronomy Tower early one morning that summer she had helped with the wards and finding Albus and Gertie standing quite close beside one another and looking out across the grounds. Albus was standing near the edge, leaning forward against the wall, head down, and Gertrude was slightly behind him, her hand resting on his upper arm. Gertie must have heard Minerva come up, because she dropped her arm and stepped quickly away. It had disturbed Minerva terribly at the time, although she had managed to hide her feelings in the moment by pretending she had forgotten something and running back to her room, where she splashed her face with cold water and drove the image from her mind.

Minerva stretched and let the sun warm her belly. In retrospect, it didn’t seem as awful as it had at the time. She knew that Albus had a lot weighing on his mind during those years, things he would not share with someone as young as she had been at the time. She had been his student, after all. He had been protective of her, and looking back, Minerva could not fault him for that. Gertrude had provided him adult friendship.

Minerva stood and jumped from the rock. She made her way around to the side of the fort where she had left Gertie sitting on the wall. Minerva looked up in time to see the older witch sliding over the side of the wall, presumably down to the steps. She transformed back to her ordinary form and found a pile of rocks to lean on while she waited. A moment later, the Arithmancy teacher appeared, climbing through the hole in the wall.

“We will have an appetite for lunch, I would say, wouldn’t you, Minerva?”

Minerva nodded, somewhat subdued after her introspection. They began the long walk back to the house.

“Having a hearty appetite should help you make it through lunch, at any rate. I shall be frank with you, Minerva. Some of my relatives are less congenial than one might hope. That was one reason I was glad you accepted my invitation. You will be something of a relief for those of us who have the misfortune of not finding them the most scintillating and gracious company.”

Minerva laughed shortly. “So I am to provide entertainment?”

“I didn’t mean that, precisely.” They were climbing out of one of the steeper ditches, and Gertrude paused till they reached the top. “But I did think it only fair to warn you. One in particular, actually. Not just of her, but of what others may say of her.”

Minerva did not have the slightest idea what Gertrude was driving at. This was what she considered “frank”?

“Whoo! I think I need to catch my breath a minute, Minerva. Even the stairs at Hogwarts haven’t kept me in shape for this walk, I’m afraid. I’m getting old.”

The two sat side by side on a fallen megalith, sunk deep into the earth.

“Valerianna Yaxley, née Crouch, to be precise. My late husband’s cousin.” Gertie turned her head to look at Minerva. “She will seem quite the model of respectability – gentility, even – at first. But when she learns who you are . . . you may hear some things that . . . .” Gertie looked back toward the house, as though it would tell her what to say.

Minerva waited. Finally, her curiosity aroused, she asked, “What? What things?”

“It’s more likely that you’ll hear something about her from someone else once they learn that you teach at Hogwarts with me.” Gertie let out her breath slowly. “It really isn’t my place to tell you this, and if it weren’t for the fact that it would be worse coming from someone else, I wouldn’t, you know.”

Minerva had never known Gertrude to be this round-about before. She might expect veiled meanings, but not this meandering discourse. It was most peculiar. “Well, if you wish to tell me something, why don’t you just come right out and say it.”

Minerva had absolutely no idea what Gertrude might be about to say. She’d never heard of this Valerianna, although she had met some Crouches and had known a Yaxley when she was in school – both the Crouches and Yaxleys were pure-blood families with money and influence.

“Valerianna was married to a friend of my husband’s, as may not come as a surprise, since she was his cousin and they were all at Hogwarts at the same time – my husband was almost ten years older than I, so we weren’t at school together. Her husband – Gordon Yaxley – was killed during the war, shortly before your seventh year, I believe. It was a rather a nasty business. Gordon had been working with the Ministry on a project that involved breaking the wards that Grindelwald was using. Albus was in charge of the project, as you may or may not know. Gordon normally did no fieldwork; he was a decent chap, but not particularly powerful, although his ability with runes and Arithmancy was outstanding, and he was highly valued for his contributions.

“At some point, the Ministry determined that there was a small Grindelwald stronghold in Belgium that was strategically important. The Dark Wizard had been operating the outpost to manipulate Muggle activities in that area; it was also serving as a base for kidnapping local wizards and witches and transporting them back to Grindelwald’s headquarters. It was believed to be very lightly guarded, however. Ministry spies had information indicating that the outpost relied heavily upon its wards and that if the wards could be brought down, the Aurors would meet little resistance.

“Albus was supposed to have gone on the mission to bring down the wards and destroy the outpost. The Ministry moved up the time of the mission and when Albus arrived in London, they had already sent the team out. The Ministry, in their belief that the target was a minor one, lightly guarded, decided to send Gordon instead of Albus. Gordon was quite keen to go, too. He had worked out many of the spells for taking down the wards; he wanted to see them work.

“Albus was furious; he left the Ministry without so much as a by-your-leave and caught up with the team. By then, however, it was too late for him to be of much help. Gordon and two of the eight Aurors were dead, and another two were gravely wounded. They had captured the base and, through some stroke of luck, had been able to capture or kill most of the wizards who had resisted, allowing only a few to escape.”

“So his wife was angry with Albus?” asked Minerva, wondering if all this had just been a lead up to learning that one of the other guests disliked the Hogwarts Headmaster.

“No, Valerianna never seemed to blame Albus. In fact, I don’t believe she did. She had been happy enough in her marriage, I think, but had never really come to terms with the fact that Gordon’s greatest ambition was to devise spells for others to use. But Gordon had been a Ravenclaw, unlike most of his family, who tended to be sorted into Slytherin. His joy came from achievements that his wife could never appreciate. So although I would never say that she was happy he had died, she was not displeased to be free of the life they had led.”

Minerva shook her head. “She actually told people that?”

“Of course not; she’s Slytherin, through and through. No, she said she was glad that he had died doing something he loved and that his sacrifice had been worthwhile.”

“Then, if she didn’t blame Albus, and she was happy to be free of her marriage and the widow of a war hero, I don’t understand . . . .”

“A few years ago, Albus began seeing Valerianna socially. Of course, he had done so before, and she was on the Board of Governors at that time. But he began to . . . escort her to various Ministry events and other wizarding social occasions around London. She was quite pleased to be seen with a living hero, a wizard who was not only intelligent, but powerful, as well. She believed that it was only a matter of time before Dippet retired and Albus was named Headmaster. Valerianna was aware that Albus had been approached twice before to become Minister for Magic. She believed three times is the charm, and that with the proper persuasion, Albus would eventually agree to become Minister for Magic after serving a few years as Headmaster.”

Minerva sat, somewhat disbelieving, staring at her former Arithmancy teacher. Why would this person have cared whether Albus became Headmaster or Minister for Magic? Was Gertrude saying that Albus had been . . . involved with this witch?

“And so . . . ?” Minerva finally asked.

“Valerianna Yaxley wanted to be the wife of the Minister for Magic, Minerva. She thought that she could influence Albus into, first, marrying her, obviously, and then into agreeing to become Minister for Magic.”

Minerva stared at Gertrude, open-mouthed and incredulous. “I don’t believe it.”

Gertrude looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “There are some very ambitious witches in the world, Minerva; I thought you would be aware of that by now.”

“Well, of course, but Albus wouldn’t . . . Albus just . . . he never said anything.” Minerva thought that Albus would have mentioned something to her if he was seeing some witch socially – seeing her often enough that the witch thought they might marry.

“Mmm. Fortunately, before she managed to completely sink her claws into him, he discovered Valerianna was not the witch she presented herself to be. I think they only saw each other six, perhaps eight, months.”

Six or eight months. About three years ago. Minerva hadn’t seen much of Albus then. She remembered that he had stopped by her office once at about that time, but only to say hello; unlike their usual custom, they hadn’t gone out for lunch or dinner. Albus had said he had some other things to attend to in the city. Minerva’s stomach clenched at the thought. It wasn’t as though Albus had owed her anything; she was a former student, a casual friend, that was all. But the thought that Albus had been seeing some witch for several months and had never mentioned it to her, not even in the offhanded way that people mention a date or a friend, bothered her. And he had never mentioned it since, either.

“So he stopped seeing her?”

“Oh, yes, he broke it off quite completely. Valerianna was left with absolutely no doubt that Albus was not going to become Minister for Magic and that she most definitely was not going to become his wife, regardless of anything else he might do.”

Minerva stared off across the moor, unseeing. Not even really thinking.

Gertrude stood. “We had best get back. Lunch will be served soon, and we need to make ourselves presentable.” She grinned, “Easier for you than for me.”

Minerva tried to return the older witch’s smile. She was not sure what to make of all she had just been told. As they walked, one question rose in her mind that she knew Gertie could answer.

“Why did you tell me this?”

“Because if someone made some . . . joke about it, I did not want you to be taken completely unawares. As it is, you are obviously taken aback. It was not my place to say anything. And I am sure that Albus would prefer not to discuss the matter. But since Valerianna will be here – and there will be others here, as well, who are aware of the former situation – I thought it best to say something before someone made a remark that would leave you with no idea what was going on or how to react.”

They walked along in silence a while longer. “Also, Valerianna has no doubt heard your name from Albus. Even if she says nothing about Albus, she may imply something about having heard of you before. As I said, Minerva, Valerianna is a literate and superficially charming woman. I did not want you to become a source of amusement for her – even though she is such a Slytherin, you might not even be aware she was laughing.”

“I see. And you knew she would be here when you invited me?” Minerva stopped and looked at Gertrude, unsure of what, or who, she was seeing.

“I knew she would be arriving sometime this week. I did not know that she would also be arriving this morning, however.” Gertrude considered a moment. “There are a great many relatives coming and going this week. Many, however, will only be here Wednesday and Thursday, for the engagement party. I was unsure whether Valerianna planned only to attend the party or not. When I learned she was coming earlier, I decided I should warn you sooner rather than later.”

“Engagement party?”

“Yes. Don’t worry, you are quite welcome. I think you will find the engaged couple quite suited to one another – they are both equally horrid. One of my cousins – actually, my cousin’s son – is marrying one of his cousins. Isn’t that pleasant? So very convenient when you both already share the same last name – no bother at all.”

Minerva suppressed a shudder. The Egidius and Parnovon families had often intermarried over the last few hundred years, but they always married people they were only related to by marriage, or who were several generations removed. “They’re cousins?” Minerva asked, her mind temporarily distracted from the revelation that Gertrude had made.

“Not first cousins, although the Blacks have been known to do that, as well. Helps keep all the nastiest traits in the family, I think.”

They had reached the house. Gertie turned and gave her a crooked grin. “Is the lioness ready to face the vipers?”

Minerva smiled and shrugged, unsure what response to make.

They entered only to be practically run down by two laughing children. “Ooo, sorry, ma’am, Madam Gamp. Very sorry,” the boy panted, pushing his red hair back from his eyes.

“I told you two not to run in the house. We are visitors here, and I expect you to be on your best behaviour! And you know what that means!” A mild Irish brogue turned the scolding sweet.

“Yes, da,” said the girl, nodding vigorously. The boy echoed her words, but with a little more nonchalance.

Minerva turned to look at the speaker, a tall wizard with dark hair with some white strands running through it. He was wearing a dark muggle suit with a white shirt and tie. He wouldn't looked out of place on Bond Street, if it weren't for the wand hanging from his belt in a rather ornately decorated sheath.

“Now be off with you!” the man said with a smile, shooing the children out the door.

The two children ran out, glad to be free of the house and the adults for a little while.

“I apologise for me wee beasties,” he said, turning to Minerva. “I did tell them to wait until they were outside, Gertrude. But you know Alroy and Ainya. And who is this vision of loveliness you have brought with you, then? A goddess sprung from beneath the standing stone?” he asked, turning back to Minerva.

Minerva blushed, well aware of her current appearance. Was this one of the dreadful relatives, and was he making fun of her? She looked up at him to see him smiling down at her; the mirth in his bright blue eyes was contagious, and she could not help but smile back.

“This is Minerva McGonagall – ” Gertrude began.

“Ah, the Saviour of Our Sanity!” He took Minerva’s hand and bent over it, sketching a quick bow. “Gertrude told me that I might find at least one agreeable companion while I was here; you do look promising!” Just then, they were interrupted by a loud screech and several bellows coming from the front drive. “Uh-oh, must be off to see what damage me ‘wee beasties’ have done this time,” he said with a wink. With that, he dashed out the door behind them.

“Who was that?”

“Cormac Quinlivan MacAirt. The children, as you may have guessed, were his son and daughter. Alroy starts at Hogwarts in September.” Gertie shook her head. “God save us. But come, we need to change. Lunch is in twenty minutes. Brue will fetch you.”

Note: Please let me know what you think! There's a couple more chapters of Cornwall, then Minerva returns to Hogwarts.

[Hogwarts Duo]

First let me say THANK YOU for updating. I was starting to go through withdrawls over here! ;D

Secondly, can I just say how much I loooove Albus. He's always so sweet and attentive, well now that he knows how Minerva was feeling earlier in the story. The little gift and then the kisses to the cheek and holding her hand....awwww...melts away in happiness!

Thirdly, I absolutely dislike Gertie even more than before. I cannot honestly believe she was telling Minerva that merely to spare her feelings and to keep her well informed before dinner. I'd say there's a twinge of jealousy lurking there in Gertie's cold heart and I'll bet there's more to this innocent little visit than she'd like us to believe. She just doesn't strike me as the sort of woman to do something for Minerva because she is genuinely concerned...grrrrr. But I shall refrain from using the other words that have been rolling around in my mind in reference to her...

Again, thanks for the update and I am really looking forward to more, even though I have a feeling things are going to get really bumpy for Minerva in the very near future. And at the least, she'll leave with more questions than answers, especially where Albus is concerned...sigh.

[twinkle]

hogwartsduo said:

Thirdly, I absolutely dislike Gertie even more than before. I cannot honestly believe she was telling Minerva that merely to spare her feelings and to keep her well informed before dinner. I'd say there's a twinge of jealousy lurking there in Gertie's cold heart and I'll bet there's more to this innocent little visit than she'd like us to believe.

I'm rather confused about Gertie now... I also cannot believe the reasons she named for telling Minerva all this. And I wouldn't be surprised by a little jealousy, too. But that she is truly evil... nagh, I can't believe this, either.
Right now I'm more than a little curious about this dinner. And about Albus' present. I love presents (unimportant whether I'm on the giving or receiving end) and I can't wait to "see" what's inside. His behaviour when seeing Mineva off was also so cute...
Thanks a lot for updating!!!

Btw: The idea with the two witches wearing trousers was great. I'd like to see more of Gertie's unusual quirks. She seems to be a quite interesting character. I'm just not sure whether I like her... I'll try to figure this out ;o))

[MMADfan]

twinkle said:

hogwartsduo said:

Thirdly, I absolutely dislike Gertie even more than before. I cannot honestly believe she was telling Minerva that merely to spare her feelings and to keep her well informed before dinner. I'd say there's a twinge of jealousy lurking there in Gertie's cold heart and I'll bet there's more to this innocent little visit than she'd like us to believe.

I'm rather confused about Gertie now... I also cannot believe the reasons she named for telling Minerva all this. And I wouldn't be surprised by a little jealousy, too. But that she is truly evil... nagh, I can't believe this, either.

<snip>

Btw: The idea with the two witches wearing trousers was great. I'd like to see more og Gertie's unusual quirks. She seems to be a quite interesting character. I'm just not sure whether I like her... I'll try to figure this out ;o))

LOL! I'm sure that Gertie would be quite pleased that no one knows quite what to make of her. Who knows whether you'll love her or hate her by the end of the story, but one thing's certain, she has made an impression! And she's not done yet -- she has much more of a role to play later on! *grin*

You're welcome for the update!

[PiER]

Good old Gertie has grown on me! *ducks to avoid evil glares*
I think we should all unite and aim our hatred towards this new threat Valerianna Yaxley!

I must say this was a refreshingly long update but once again I cannot wait for more! - Lunch should be especially interesting though I am looking forward to finding out what Albus' present is.

PiER

[Orion's Guard]

This story's never going to end, is it?

I'm still wondering about ALL of Gertrude's plans, she's going way out of her way for Minerva and I still think there's something big we don't know about (besides some sort of set up between her and Cormac, or jealousy of Minerva's relationship with Albus).

I forgot to comment before about Minerva always going to the bathroom, it's not something you see often in stories and it seems like every time she's in her rooms she in the toilet, which isn't unusual if you think about it, but its funny to read.

[twinkle]

pier said:

Good old Gertie has grown on me! *ducks to avoid evil glares*
I think we should all unite and aim our hatred towards this new threat Valerianna Yaxley!

Yepp, we should definitely unite against her. Although Minerva most certainly can fight for herself and Albus won't be stupid enough to make such a mistake twice!!!
It might be fun to see her on the wrong side of Minerva, though ^^.

[MMADfan]

bogus7 said:

This story's never going to end, is it?

If it gets too painful for you, you can wait and I'll PM you when it's done, and you can read the final chapter! (JK!) ;D
Seriously, though, it does have an end, and the story is moving toward it. The final chapters are very clear in my mind.

I'm still wondering about ALL of Gertrude's plans, she's going way out of her way for Minerva and I still think there's something big we don't know about (besides some sort of set up between her and Cormac, or jealousy of Minerva's relationship with Albus).

Ah, that is the wonderful thing about serialized fiction, isn't it? Time to speculate in between updates! I love reading everyone's theories, too!

I forgot to comment before about Minerva always going to the bathroom, it's not something you see often in stories and it seems like every time she's in her rooms she in the toilet, which isn't unusual if you think about it, but its funny to read.

That just made me laugh! I actually am fairly conscious of doing this, but I hope it doesn't seem too overdone. (But don't you ever find it odd when you read a novel and characters are together for hours and hours on end and they never have to pee? It's even odder when they never eat or drink -- although there's no fear of that in anything I write: I may omit "bathroom scenes," but my characters will always eat! LOL!)

Thanks very much for reviewing! I hope to have more posted later today.

-MMADfan