Chapter 9
“So what do you think of butterbeer, Jeannie?” Elphinstone asked.
Minerva smiled as she watched her youngest niece’s thumb shoot up into the air at him in approval, her mouth so filled with the frothy foam atop her drink that she couldn't speak. There was no way that Jean would successfully finish even half of it, but a large tumbler of butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks had to be a right of passage for anyone visiting the all wizarding village of Hogsmeade for the first time. Or before going to Hogwarts to watch the final Quidditch match of the season, which was to be another first for the little girl that day.
"I still can’t decide whether to cheer for Gryffindor or Ravenclaw," Jean’s oldest sister, Kirsty, grumbled. "This would be easier if I was already sorted!"
"I thought it was understood that supporting Gryffindor was not up for debate?" Minerva teased. "I’ve grown quite attached to having the house cup in my office and I don’t intend to hand it over to Professor Flitwick anytime soon.”
"But what if I’m a Ravenclaw?" Kirsty lamented. Though she had been brought along by Minerva to witness Gryffindor’s winning streak for the past two years in a row, Ravenclaw hadn’t qualified for the finals and her loyalties to the houses that the magical members of the McGonagall family were divided between hadn’t been a factor.
"You don’t know for sure that you’re going to be in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor," Maggie, the middle child, pointed out as she used a spoon to scoop out another mouthful from her own butterbeer.
"Well in all likelihood, I will be," Kirsty said matter-of-factly, her crisp tone so alike her aunt’s as she caught her eye. "If the rest of the family is any sort of indication."
"The hat almost put me in Ravenclaw," Minerva shared. "Did I tell you girls that before? It took its time deciding where I belonged."
"So you were a hatstall," Elphinstone commented, adding a dash of milk to his tea.
"Yes," Minerva nodded. "Five whole minutes - it felt like an eternity sitting on that stool with everyone watching me. Malcolm didn't take long at all. Perhaps already having a sister in Gryffindor made it easier for the hat to place him there also because it does seem to like keeping families together when it can.”
"But that's not the most important thing that it looks at," Maggie stated informatively. She had read and reread Minerva's battered old copy of 'Hogwarts - A History' so many times by now that she knew it by heart. “For all we know, Kirsty’s a Slytherin.”
"None of you girls are going to be sorted into Slytherin," Minerva said confidently, cutting off the argument she sensed was about to start. "I’d be very surprised if you were anyway."
"Would it bother you if they were?" Elphinstone asked with a bit of a knowing smile.
"No, of course not," Minerva answered quickly. She plucked a napkin from the dispenser in the center of the table and handed it to Jean, who had looked up from her drink at long last, her lips coated in butterbeer.
"All four houses have their merits," Minerva continued, when she saw that Elphinstone was still smiling at her. "But I've watched too many sortings to count and I nearly always guess correctly. Sometimes Albus and I make a game of it together."
“Is Professor Dumbledore going to be there today?” Maggie asked curiously.
“I imagine so,” Minerva replied. “He never told me differently.”
“Professor Dumbledore gave us those chocolate frogs to snack on at the last match,” Maggie smiled. “Remember, Kirsty?”
“Yes,” her sister replied absentmindedly, though she was not to be derailed. “What house do you predict for me, Auntie?”
"Ask me again after your sorting," Minerva smirked, bringing her teacup to her lips.
“Why not now?" Kirsty protested.
“Because it’s a foolish thing to stress over,” Minerva replied. “You’ll wind up exactly where you belong. All of us do.”
“Doesn’t prevent it from being stressful though,” Elphinstone countered sympathetically.
"Right? Thank you," Kirsty told him graciously.
“I remember back to my own school days," Elphinstone elaborated. "The anxiety that some students faced when they or their families made them feel like their lives would be over if they weren't put into a specific house."
"Not much has changed," Minerva agreed. "I swear that some of the children fear they’ll wind up disowned if they get placed somewhere different than their parents, while others seem to relish in creating a stir with their sorting.”
One particular case that immediately came to mind was Sirius Black, who had broken with tradition when the hat put him in Gryffindor instead of Slytherin like the rest of his family, which he'd been positively delighted by. Minerva had had to scold him at that very first feast for making rude hand gestures across the hall at his cousin Bellatrix and though he was an exhausting student to have under her care, she had never resented his placement in her house. For a Gryffindor through and through, he certainly was. Bold in his convictions and courageous enough to openly reject the hateful belief systems with which he’d been raised. In all truth, the world needed more people like him in Minerva's opinion. Even if his behaviour could do with much improvement.
"Of course, you girls don't have to worry about any of that," Minerva added. "You just need to go into it with an open mind and know that there’s no pressure from anyone in our family. The Sorting Hat knows best and wherever you go, I'll love you all the more for it - except on the pitch if we’re for opposing Quidditch teams.”
Maggie and Jean giggled at that, though Kirsty still looked serious. She was as nervous as she was excited to attend Hogwarts come September, and had asked Minerva what felt like a million and one questions about what to expect since receiving her letter. If Minerva’s guess counted for anything, then Kirsty would be a Ravenclaw just like her parents and grandmother before her, though Minerva would be delighted if all three of her nieces got placed with her in Gryffindor.
"Mr Urquart, did your family all get sorted into the same house?" Maggie asked.
"All of us were in Ravenclaw except for a cousin of mine, Jameela, who went to Gryffindor," Elphinstone answered. "I'm not sure what made her different - though she did have the worst temper out of the lot of us."
"Hey, hey," Minerva objected playfully, bumping him with her shoulder as she leaned into him affectionately. She felt his lips briefly make contact with the top of her head, above where her dark hair was pinned up in its usual neat bun and it ignited a familiar warmth within her of contentment.
Short tempered though she might be, Minerva had always been exceedingly proud to be a Gryffindor, with all the positive and less stellar attributes that classified the house. While Ravenclaw would have undoubtedly been a good fit for Minerva, Gryffindor was simply who she was. It had taught her to be braver and bolder and had helped mould her into the determined and righteous woman that she was today. Gryffindor meant far more to Minerva than school colours and what Quidditch team she supported. It had influenced what she believed in and valued every bit as much as the teachings she’d absorbed in her father’s church.
“Yesss, I’m starving!” Maggie exclaimed happily, looking delighted as five plates containing their lunch began floating gracefully towards them, putting an abrupt end to the Hogwarts sorting talk.
"Well, you've come to the right place then, love," replied a pretty young witch with a smile as she stepped out from behind the bar. She wore an apron over long rose coloured robes and had her wand held out in front of her as she directed all five plates to place themselves on the table in front of the correct person.
"Thank you, Rosmerta," said Minerva, glancing up at the former student she regularly enjoyed catching up with. “You’re looking well.”
“And you, Professor,” Rosmerta replied, slipping her wand back into the front pocket of her apron. “I haven’t seen you in awhile.”
"I've been in London whenever I can get a day away from the castle lately," Minerva replied honestly. Conscientious about never being anything less than professional, she preferred visiting Elphinstone’s flat than inviting him up to the school too often and had subsequently been absent from many of the socials the Hogwarts staff enjoyed in the village on weekends.
"Rosmerta, this is Elphinstone Urquart from the Ministry," Minerva said, resting her hand up on Elphinstone’s shoulder.
"I’d been worried that you'd been hanging around Aberforth’s pub instead," Rosmerta said, as she smiled and shook Elphinstone’s hand.
"Certainly not," Minerva scoffed. "I don't go in there unless Albus makes me and the last time we went, Aberforth confiscated my scotch before I'd finished because it was a minute past closing and he wanted to go to bed."
Rosmerta laughed, but truthfully Minerva found nothing funny about the dysfunctional relationship between the two Dumbledore brothers, who seemed to have no common ground outside of long beards and a shared tragic history. As the only members of their family left, they both seemed reluctant to completely part ways, but Aberforth’s tolerance for Albus’s company was in short supply. And Minerva’s closeness to Albus meant that Aberforth had never quite taken to her presence in their midst. He seemed to regard her loyalty to his brother with a mixture of contempt and suspicion.
"Excuse me, but I was wondering if you use magic to make the food too or just to help carry it?" Maggie asked curiously, as she removed the pickle from her sandwich and set it on the edge of her plate.
Though the girls’ parents were a witch and wizard, magic was so routinely abstained from in their day to day life in Caithness that their exposure to it was still quite limited. While Minerva had forged a path as an adult that deliberately distanced herself from a double life as much as possible, both of her brothers had taken a more balanced approach to navigating the magical and non-magical components of belonging to the McGonagall family. Out of habit, they often regarded the short cuts magic provided to be the lazier way of doing things, which contrasted with their older sister who felt sluggish and clumsy whenever she was not permitted her wand.
“I like to make the food by hand but I use magic for the peeling and chopping,” Rosmerta explained. “And all the cleaning - it's a lot faster.
“So you never have to wash the dishes?" Jean asked.
"There might be some particular stubborn marks that I prefer to clean by hand, but typically no, I don't have to," Rosmerta replied.
"Once I grow up I will never clean my room again!" Maggie announced to them all happily. "I'll just wave my wand and that'll be the end of it!"
"Rosmerta, these are my nieces Kirsty, Maggie, and Jean," Minerva motioned to each girl as she said her name. "Kirsty starts at Hogwarts in September."
"How exciting!" said Rosmerta. "I just finished last year."
"What house were you in?" asked Kirsty.
"Gryffindor," Rosmerta replied. "Your aunt was my favourite teacher."
Whether it was the truth or not it warmed Minerva’s heart to see how that proclamation made the girls smile. Though Kirsty would undoubtedly encounter an abundance of negativity regarding strict and unyielding Professor McGonagall once she began her magical education, most of the students came to appreciate the Transfiguration teacher in some capacity before concluding their studies. There were a few from every year that chose to keep in touch with her long after leaving Hogwarts and they weren’t all necessarily from Gryffindor either.
“So were you at the Ministry during the attack?" Rosmerta turned her attention back to Elphinstone.
"Yes, though I was lucky enough to be far enough away from where they struck," Elphinstone replied.
Rosmerta shook her head sadly, making her blonde curls bounce. "Sturgis Podmore and his mother came in here just the other day after his dad’s funeral. I didn't know what to say."
"There are no words," Minerva intoned quietly. "I never know what to say either."
More people had been killed and injured during this single assault by the Death Eaters than all the others combined. In the aftermath, Hogwarts had been packed with countless relatives of students coming to take them home early or to break terrible news in person. Miraculously, none of Minerva’s Gryffindors had been directly impacted, but she hadn't forgotten the haunted look on Professor Slughorn’s face as he’d sat supportively with Sturgis Podmore after learning that his father had been killed. Nor the way that Professor Sprout had rushed fifth year Hufflepuff, Patricia Rakepick, to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries so that the girl could say goodbye to her mother.
"Well, I'm glad that Professor Dumbledore decided against cancelling the Quidditch match," said Rosmerta, as she turned to leave. "It'll keep spirits up and we can't give You Know Who the satisfaction of allowing him to take away more from us than he already is."
On this matter, Minerva wholeheartedly agreed. NEWT examinations had carried on as scheduled amidst the tragedy and all her seventh years had gotten through them successfully, as she’d told them they would. Minerva believed going through with Quidditch matches, exams, and career advising was important. It meant there was still hope that they lived in a world where those things could matter.
"You know, the Ministry has been discussing whether to cancel the Quidditch World Cup being hosted here next year," Elphinstone said, once they had finished lunch and were walking up the laneway to Hogwarts with the girls ahead of them.
"On a personal level, I'll be extremely disappointed if they do," Minerva said, tucking her hand into his. "But I understand the hesitancy from a logistical perspective."
"There’s a lot of security factors to consider but that's reality every day now," Elphinstone said. "Barty Crouch wants them cancelled on the basis that the amount of effort it would require from the Ministry could be so much better spent, but Minchum is worried about optics."
"It's looking like his days in office are numbered though, aren't they?" asked Minerva.
"The cries for his resignation are getting louder and louder each day," Elphinstone affirmed, "but he's not going to resign."
"That stubborn?" said Minerva. "I know Dumbledore has gone on the record stating that the attack on the Ministry was not Meechum’s fault but it still happened right under his nose."
"Well in his defence, I’m not sure there’s a man alive who could look in control when set against You Know Who," Elphinstone replied. "And that includes Dumbledore."
There was a pause. "Perhaps he just needs more time," Minerva spoke quietly, but ever faithful.
Dumbledore might not have He Who Must Be Named under control, but he was surely using all those hours he spent locked away in his office trying to figure out a way to do exactly that. Though it was something that he would never achieve alone - according to Grindelwald, that much was certain. Yet it was somehow enough right now to know that He Who Must Not Be Named was too frightened to move against him. Dumbledore’s power might not be almighty, but it was the best building block their side could hope for.
"I'm so grateful that you were able to come today," Minerva said softly, changing the subject. "I've missed you."
Aside from a handful of brief floo calls, this was the first time that they'd been together since the Ministry had been attacked. All officials had been working round the clock to make repairs, strengthen security, and to punish the suspected Death Eaters who'd been captured. They’d all been sent immediately to Azkaban to wait while the Ministry tried to figure out who was guilty and who’d been forced. Minerva knew that Elphinstone had been practically living in his office these days. Returning home only for brief trips to change clothes and walk the dog.
"I've missed you too," Elphinstone replied. "I'll need to check back in today, but we're all starting to realise that the chaos is no longer about the attack but is just the way things are going to be for the unforeseeable future. So I'd best pace myself.”
"You look exhausted," she said truthfully.
Elphinstone should have been sleeping the brief hours he'd managed to slip away, but instead, he'd come to see her. Shrugging his shoulders in indifference to how hard he was working and all that it cost him.
Minerva squeezed his hand all the more tightly. “At least I’ll be there soon to make sure you’re taking care of yourself."
"After a whole summer with me, you’re probably going to be running for the hills,” Elphinstone shook his head.
"On the contrary, I’ll probably never want to leave," Minerva remarked.
Stopping on the road, Elphinstone used a finger to push under her chin and make her look up at him. He kissed her mouth, cheek, then forehead.
"Well that would be the dream," he replied, as they re-commenced walking.
Minerva smiled at him and then used her free hand to lift her long green skirt that was collecting dust from the road. They had reached the part of the trail where the ground beneath their feet began to grow at an incline. Kirsty's and Maggie's sprints had slown, but Jean had perched herself up on a large rock nestled between two trees and seemed reluctant to move at all.
"I’m getting sooo tired," she groaned dramatically, when Minerva and Elphinstone reached her. "Losing steam….must rest."
"Well that's all very good but I'm not about to carry you or be late," Minerva informed her. "You've had your break, now come on."
Jean hesitated but then, with a loud sigh, reluctantly got back to her feet and began a slow trudge up the dirt road that was indented by carriage wheels and the hooves of the thestrals that transported Hogwarts students to and from the train station. Minerva would never have given in, but it was just under a minute before Elphinstone had Jean riding on his back.
"Jeannie, you should walk yourself," Minerva lightly scolded, even while taking out her wand to perform a lightening charm on the little girl that had gotten exactly what she wanted.
All the same, it made her heart flutter. Even as she saw Jean flash her what could only been described as a triumphant smirk at being indulged, Elphinstone’s kindness and generosity could not be stated enough and Minerva felt her love grow. He would have made a wonderful father, and for all the success and difference that he had made in his long career, Minerva wished he hadn't given up that.
"Mr Urquart, if you marry Aunt Minerva, will you come live with her at Hogwarts?" Jean asked after a few minutes.
The iron gates that blocked off the Hogwarts grounds had come into sight, with some spectators already going through the aurors security screening to be permitted inside. Kirsty and Maggie were waiting patiently for them at the back of the queue.
"No, I don't think so," Elphinstone answered, sounding amused.
"You could asparate to London to go to work every day," Jean pressed on.
"Apparate?" Elphinstone corrected gently. "Yes, that can be quite handy. How do you know so much?"
"I can read," Jean informed him. "And my sisters can read bigger books and they tell me about them."
"How smart you all are," Elphinstone remarked.
"Yes," Jean said modestly. "You can't apparate into Hogwarts. You have to apparate somewhere else and then walk."
"That's true," Elphinstone replied, as he gently set her back on the ground to wait behind her sisters. "Do you know any other ways you can travel by magic? How did you get to Hogsmeade today?"
“Aunt Minerva's bracelet," Jean answered promptly.
"It was a portkey," Maggie informed her, as the twin Minerva suspected to be Gideon Prewett, beckoned them towards himself. It was required now for anyone wishing to enter the Hogwarts grounds to undergo a security sweeping by a trained member of the guard first.
“How are you, sir?” Gideon asked, raising his wand to envelope Elphinstone in what resembled a translucent bubble, charmed to wash away any enchantments while also detecting any dark objects on one's person.
“Well enough,” Elphinstone replied. “And yourself? You don't mind being posted all the way out here?"
"No in the least," Gideon grinned. "I count myself lucky to not be back with all the poor blokes I'm told Moody is barking at round the clock."
"I thought Moody had been ordered temporary leave for his injuries?" Minerva asked, as she stepped forward to take her turn being screened.
Alastor Moody had been at the front of the fighting at the Ministry. It was predominantly because of his courageous efforts that the aurors had managed to apprehend as many suspects as they had, but not without cost. Moody had gotten hit with one curse that necessitated his right leg being amputated to prevent spread and by a second curse that had blasted most of his nose off. Though nothing would keep that determined man down for long, Minerva was still surprised that he wasn't taking some time to recuperate from such serious injuries.
“Moody wasn't supposed to be back at work until at least the end of the month, but he discharged himself from St Mungo’s within hours," Elphinstone told her. "He's still getting used to his artificial leg so he mostly just sits at his desk making plans and profiling us all, but nobody wants to be the one to make him go home."
"If I was You Know Who, I'd be scared," Gideon chuckled, as the same charm he'd used on Elphinstone dispelled around Minerva. Then he beamed at the girls. “Who would like to go first?”
"It doesn't hurt," Minerva explained, though all three of them came forward at once without hesitation. "It feels like water but when it's over you're not wet."
“Some say that it tickles a bit,” Gideon said, as he pointed his wand at Kirsty. “And it only takes a second. Are you excited to watch the Quidditch game?”
“Yes,” Kirsty nodded.
“That’s great,” said Gideon. “I love Quidditch. I have two little nephews, smaller than you lot, and I surprised them last weekend with toy broomsticks that fly just a little above the ground. They loved them."
"As much as Molly did?" Minerva asked wryly.
"Well, it was better than the screaming yo-yos that Fabian suggested," Gideon replied, as he moved on to Maggie. "But Bill and Charlie are always running in opposite directions, climbing what's not to climb, making messes - I tell you, my sister's a saint. It's a fun place to visit though - emphasis on the visit part."
"I can imagine," said Minerva, but she really couldn't. Though she loved her nieces, she had indulged in the privilege that came with being an aunt and not a mother by avoiding all the less pleasing aspects of children. She had never offered to help her brother and his wife out with their babies or attempted to soothe them when they cried. She'd only begun inviting her nieces places once they were old enough to be moderately self sufficient and she could trust them to behave.
“It's so much better than the pictures!” Jean exclaimed, once they'd left Gideon to proceed across the grounds and the full majestic view of Hogwarts castle came into sight. “Auntie, it is so cool that you get to live here!”
“It's a view that I never get tired of,” Minerva agreed happily. “The Quidditch pitch is over to our left and do you see that tower looking over it? That's Gryffindor tower.”
“Where you live?” asked Jean.
“That's right,” Minerva nodded.
“And the Black Lake is down behind the castle,” Kirsty added. “Maybe we'll be able to spot the giant squid later. Doesn't it love to come up to the surface when it's sunny?”
“It does seem to favour the sun,” Minerva agreed, “but it's going to be difficult to spot the snitch if we don't get a bit of overcast soon.”
Quidditch was almost never cancelled. They played rain or shine. In the frigid cold and in the heat of summer. They played even so shortly after the tragedy at the Ministry because Quidditch was so highly regarded in the wizarding world and they all needed something to get excited about. The turn-out for those who came to watch was always high, no matter what the conditions. But on a beautiful June day like today, the place was completely packed.
“Hi, Professor McGonagall!”
Turning at the call of her name, Minerva spotted James Potter waving at her from where he stood in the grass beneath the goalposts with Sirius Black and his parents. James and Sirius were already wearing their Quidditch robes and both elderly white-haired Mr and Mrs Potter were dressed in red and gold to leave no doubt, if there were any, that they’d be supporting Gryffindor today.
As the crowd went by, many of the students called out to the two talented players, who both appeared to be basking in the attention. The jeering amidst the shouts of encouragement, seemed to do little more than amuse them. Even those who were hoping for a Gryffindor defeat, would find it difficult to deny that Potter and Black were heralded as practical heroes for their undeniable talent on the Quidditch Pitch.
“Hello,” Minerva greeted them. While Elphinstone had continued up to their seats with Kirsty and Jean, Maggie pressed closer to Minerva and followed her over to the group standing on the field. “It’s very nice to see you again, Mr and Mrs Potter. I’m so glad you were able to join us.”
Though there had never been an occasion in the past four years that she’d been teaching their son, that the Potters hadn’t shown up to support him. Minerva didn’t think there was a child alive who could have asked for more doting parents. He could do no wrong, in their eyes, and the Potters showered more pride and adoration on James for his talent on the Gryffindor team, than any devoted fan at any World Cup possibly could.
“It’s so nice to see you too, Minerva,” Euphemia Potter beamed, taking Minerva’s hand inside both of hers. “Is this your daughter?”
“My niece,” Minerva corrected, placing her arm around Maggie's shoulders affectionately. “Maggie and her sisters have come to watch the Quidditch match.”
“Come to watch James and Sirius bring it home for Gryffindor again, eh?” Fleamont said enthusiastically.
“Which we’ll do without question,” Sirius looked pleased, even as James rolled his eyes dramatically at his father’s over the top praise.
“Shouldn’t you both be getting ready?” Minerva turned to the boys. “The rest of the team is probably waiting for some final words from their captain right about now.”
“Don't worry, Professor, we're ready,” James promised.
“What positions do you play again?” Maggie posed her question to both of them, but she was staring up at Sirius.
The tallest boy in his year, with long wavy black hair, and grey eyes - there was no denying that Sirius Black made a handsome sight. It would be easier to try and count the girls at Hogwarts who hadn't made fools of themselves in failed attempts to capture his attention. Despite their efforts, Sirius always appeared to choose being with James over anyone else.
“I’m a chaser and Sirius is a beater,” James told her.
“In other words, I'm this guy's bodyguard,” Sirius added, slapping James on the back.
“Which reminds me,” said Minerva, fixing Sirius with a stern glance. “Less fouls against your opponents this time would be nice. I know you think you're too fast to be caught, but the referee can see when you're deliberately trying to cause collisions up there and that could mess things up for us.”
“Right you are, Professor,” Sirius grinned, but his hot head often took the lead when he was in the thick of the moment and she wouldn’t be surprised to hear the whistle blown on him at least a few times in the midst of such a high stakes game.
‘They’re both naturals,” Euphemia gushed, once the boys had left to go join the rest of the Gryffindor team in the change rooms a minute later. “We installed goal posts in the garden at home a few years ago so that James could train all summer long. Sirius and Peter come over all the time and occasionally Remus. They love playing two-aside.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Minerva replied.
They’d begun heading up to the stand that was already nearly full with staff, school governors, and other proud parents. While Maggie rushed ahead, Minerva lingered back with the Potters who both took the stairs slowly and with difficulty. Parenthood had come as a very late and unexpected blessing to Mr and Mrs Potter. It couldn't have been easy trying to keep up with such an active son and his friends at their ages. Though appearing more youthful than both of the Potters, silently Minerva suddenly wondered if Elphinstone had truly meant it and thought it all through last winter when they’d been walking in Hogsmeade and he’d asked her if she’d like to become a mother.
“I’ve already spoken to Dumbledore about new broomsticks for the Gryffindor team, but he told me to check with you,” Fleamont said, panting slightly. “I know every player can’t afford a top of the line broomstick and James said it’s the only thing he feels the team is lacking. Would it be alright with you if I made a donation?”
“That is incredibly generous,” said Minerva, taken-aback, though perhaps she shouldn’t have been. The Potters had always been happy to donate to the school, and took any opportunity to lavish their deeply adored son with anything they thought would make him happy. “Thank you.”
“I'll get them over the summer and arrange with you a time to drop them off,” said Fleamont.
“The students will be thrilled,” replied Minerva. “You're right, not everyone is able to acquire the best broomstick for Quidditch and the ones the school supplies to borrow can be out raced by butterflies.”
“Well we figured James deserved a reward after how well he’s done this year,” Euphemia said proudly. “High scores in all his classes and captain of the Quidditch team to boot! He told us that he was top of the year in
Transfiguration too.”
“He’s a natural at Transfiguration,” Minerva said simply, which she knew he had to be, since he certainly didn’t waste much time studying.
Declining to bring up all the ways James' behaviour had been less than stellar that year, Minerva said goodbye to the Potters when they reached the top of the box. They settled in the front row and Minerva went to join Elphinstone and the girls, who were seated with Albus Dumbledore.
“Am I ever grateful that you're able to take these sweets off me before Madam Pomfrey accuses me of intending to eat them all myself,” Dumbledore was saying, as he handed Kirsty, Maggie, and Jean each a small box stamped with the Honeydukes logo.
“Thank you, sir,” said Kirsty happily, and her sisters echoed her before they turned back around in their seats in the row in front of them to examine their lot.
“Did Poppy give you another lecture about eating so many sweets?” Minerva smirked, stepping past Elphinstone who had stood up to let her take the vacant seat between himself and Dumbledore.
“Quite unsolicited of her, I must say,” Dumbledore replied. “I hired her to care for the students, not to suggest that I don't need quite that much sugar in my morning tea.”
“I think I may have been the one who commented on the tea, Albus,” said Minerva. “Though this is a perfectly good example of why I always dodge her when she suggests I come in for a check up.”
“Professor Dumbledore, What are these?” asked Jean, turning around in her chair and shaking a tin of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Bean.
“Be careful with those ones,” Dumbledore cautioned, a twinkle gleaming in his eye. “I must advise you to read the labels carefully before you try any of them. You can’t imagine how honest they’re being when they say every flavour.”
Giving Dumbledore a disapproving look, like she couldn’t tell if he was trying to be funny or not, Jean climbed out of her seat and over to Elphinstone. “Are these gross?”
“Not if you sort them out first,” Elphinstone replied, as Jean perched herself comfortably on his lap.
“Does she ever remind me of you,” Dumbledore said quietly.
“How so?” asked Minerva, watching Elphinstone conjure a dish for Jean to empty the tin into.
“Well even as an eleven year old girl sitting in my classroom, I could sense you trying to get the measure of me,” Dumbledore smiled.
“I’m still trying,” Minerva said, turning to face him.
Her eyes locked onto his for one solitary moment. Dumbledore’s eyes always looked to Minerva like they held the answers to any question she might ever have. But even knowing him as well as she did, Minerva knew that it would take several lifetimes to get thel measure of Albus Dumbledore.
“So I hear the Potters might soon be gifting the Gryffindor Quidditch team with top of the line racing brooms?” Dumbledore said, blinking first as he changed the subject.
“Lucky me,” Minerva bit back a smile.
“Not an unfair advantage by any means,” Dumbledore sounded amused, the lights in his eyes continuing to dance.
“It doesn't break any school rules,” Minerva responded innocently.
“No it doesn't,” Dumbledore conceded. “I knew you’d be pleased.”
“Those stairs are murder on my feet!” Everyone present in the box looked up, as the enormous Horace Slughorn reached the top of the stairs and promptly collapsed into the first available seat that he saw. “Good heavens, I think they get steeper every time!” he exclaimed, taking a blue handkerchief out of the pockets of his robes and wiping the sweat off his face. “And in this sun!”
“Do you want some water, Horace?” asked Hagrid, who had been following Professor Slughorn closely up the stairs. His presence had caused Jean to look up from her Bertie Botts of Every Flavour Beans and do a double take, for she had never seen a man as large as Hagrid. To be fair, most people didn't before they came to Hogwarts, but Jean knew better than to express it.
“Have you got anything stronger than water, Hagrid?” asked Slughorn.
“Down in me hut,” Hagrid chuckled.
“Very good….very good then,” Slughorn replied.
In another minute, he appeared to have caught his breath well enough to move. He rose slowly to his feet and followed Hagrid to the very back row in the stands, which was the only place that Hagrid could sit without blocking everyone else's view. “After the match then? We’ll toast to a Gryffindor or Ravenclaw victory! Are you in, Albus?”
“I would enjoy nothing more,” Dumbledore replied, as Slughorn passed him.
“Chocolate - yes. Bogeys- obviously no,” Jean was saying to her left. But Minerva was discreetly focusing more on Dumbledore, who had just leaned back in his chair to address Slughorn quietly.
“How was Miss Black, when you left her?”
“Still a bit nauseous but she said the potions are helping,” Slughorn replied. “She decided to take advantage of the common room being quiet, instead of joining everyone else out here. I got her to agree to see you though.”
“Excellent,” said Dumbledore. “We'll arrange that in the coming days then.”
“What are you arranging?” Minerva asked pointedly, when Dumbledore turned back around in his seat.
He seemed to pause before making a decision. “I'm told that you were the one to first notice that Andromeda Black was unwell and send her to the hospital wing.”
“That was weeks ago and she disobeyed me anyway,” Minerva replied.
“It would seem that she powered through exams and then couldn't ignore how she was feeling any longer,” Dumbledore explained quietly. “Stubborn of her, but she went to the hospital wing of her own volition yesterday morning, already knowing what was the matter with her, but finally willing to ask for some help.”
“Is she okay?” asked Minerva, more curious than concerned.
“With our assistance, I'm sure she will be,” Dumbledore answered vaguely.
Minerva’s eyes narrowed. She knew that Dumbledore cared deeply for the welfare of all Hogwarts students, but he typically had a more hands off approach. For him to take a vested interest in helping one student in particular, meant that it was something important or at least impossible to ignore. It wasn't common to have meetings with the headmaster, and indeed, many people went their entire time at Hogwarts without ever stepping foot in his office.
“Pe-eh-eh….per. M-m-m mint? Peppermint,” Jean sounded out the name of the flavour listed on the back of the can that she was matching the bean in her hand to.
Leaning her head on Elphinstone’s shoulder, Minerva watched as Jean set the peppermint into the tasty pile. “Alright darling, give me a good one.”
“Okay. You can have….” Minerva watched as Jean carefully considered the ones already sorted before selecting a pink bean to drop into Minerva's outstretched hand. “It’s watermelon.”
“Elphi, so good to see you here. I'd been wanting to give you this,” Slughorn had leaned forward into their row, as Minerva popped the watermelon flavoured bean into her mouth.
“Names?” Elphinstone asked, as Slughorn slipped a folded piece of parchment into the breast pocket of Elphinstone’s robes.
“Yes, for your consideration,” Slughorn explained, patting Elphinstone on the shoulder before returning to his seat. “After the year the Ministry's had, you'll need the best ones you can get.”
Holding out her hand for Jean to share another Bertie Botts Every Flavour Bean with her, Minerva could not resist rolling her eyes at Slughorn’s obvious efforts. He'd been doing this for his entire career as a teacher, and probably even before then. He put his favoured students in the spotlight, offering them leg ups and introducing them to the powerful and influential people, but it was never as selfless as it seemed.
“Is there anyone at the Ministry who wasn't a favourite of Slughorn’s?” she asked, pressing the back of her hand against the fabric of Elphinstone’s jacket and listening to the folded parchment crinkle within.
“We let some of them sneak in,” Elphinstone smiled.
“I suppose I was one of those?”Minerva asked. Though a former student of Horace’s herself, Minerva had never been interested in any advantages and had much preferred to focus on the merits of her own hard work and credibility, than what she viewed as social climbing.
“Mmmm…yes, I don’t believe Slughorn had too much to say about you,” Elphinstone smiled. “Although, Dumbledore did visit the Ministry to tell me I'd be making a great mistake if I didn't hire you. That's sort of the same thing, isn’t it?”
“Oh really?” Minerva hadn’t heard this story before. A warmth spread through her as she glanced back at Dumbledore who was now in conversation with Hagrid and didn't appear to have heard.
“Perhaps just to get me out of his hair for a few years,” Minerva dismissed it, though she knew that wasn’t true. Dumbledore told her quite often that she was one of the brightest spots in his life and she believed him.
“It’s starting!” Kirsty announced unnecessarily, for loud cheers had erupted from every stand as the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Quidditch teams took to the air.
Flying laps around the stand to warm up, the players waved at the crowd and punched the air amidst cries of “Gryffindor!” and “Ravenclaw!” until Madam Hooch, who was refereeing, blew her whistle.
“What are they doing now?” Jean asked.
“The captains shake hands,” Elphinstone explained, as they watched James Potter dismount and shake hands with Charity Burbage, who played seeker for the Ravenclaw team.
“Now I want a nice clean game,” Hooch told the two teams warningly, as the captains took back to the air and got into position.
The quaffle was released first and the chasers had all charged for it. James, Davey Gudgeon, and Alice Fortescue were a blur of red clashed against their Ravenclaw opponents, and then it was James who triumphed. Escaping from the mass of other chasers, who took a moment to realise he'd even gone, James raced towards the Ravenclaw goal posts and scored in the far right before keeper Daisy Hookum had even reacted.
Minerva leapt up to her feet with an enthusiastic cheer that was droned out only by the many other exuberant sounds of celebration that filled the Quidditch field. Even if Kirsty hadn't been entirely sold on supporting Gryffindor today, the energy in the air was contagious and both her and Maggie were on their feet now too.
“POTTER POTTER POTTER” the crowd was chanting, as James did a series of impressive figure eights. It wasn't until Madam Hooch blew her whistle again that he stopped rejoicing.
“Well done, Gryffindor!” Hagrid shouted, his large hands pounding like a drum as he clapped them together.
“Just look at him go!” Fleamont Potter could be heard saying loudly from the front row. “And he’s just warming up too, folks!”
The proud father wasn't wrong either. James had just been getting started and even as the Ravenclaw beaters closed in on him as their primary target, it did little to interfere with him getting six more goals in a row to challenge Ravenclaw's zero.
“Potter is killing it,” Minerva remarked proudly, knowing that if they won today it would be in large thanks to his efforts.
“Goodness, that bludger came out of nowhere!” Elphinstone remarked later, as loud groans came from the crowd. Ravenclaw chaser Tilden Toots' broomstick had been blasted out from under him. He fell forty feet and even with the assistance of a cushioning charm, didn't move once he hit the ground.
“Will he be okay?” Jean asked anxiously.
“He'll be fine,” Minerva said reassuringly. “Look, they're getting him now.”
Professor Flitwick had rushed out onto the pitch with Madam Pomfrey. A hospital stretcher was floating behind them and it was quick work to load Toots onto it and whisk him away so that the game could recommence. With Ravenclaw, now one player down and James and Sirius - the beater responsible - whooping and celebrating this victory high up in the air above.
“Aunt Minerva, is that going to be a foul?” Maggie wondered.
“No, that's allowed,” Minerva replied. “It’s the beater’s job. To be a human cannonball.”
And Sirius Black did it beautifully. For as the game recommenced, Ravenclaw didn't seem to be able to recover. Gryffindor scored several more times, nearly all of them thanks to James Potter, while the remaining Ravenclaw chasers couldn't seem to get anywhere near the goalposts.
“I think Charity Burbage has spotted the snitch….yes she's definitely seen something, folks!” cried Gryffindor Sebastian Sallow, who was commentating.
Minerva felt a swell of panic in her throat as she gripped onto the edge of her seat. Gryffindor was leading by one hundred and forty points, but they'd lose if the snitch was caught now. She watched anxiously as Sirius aimed a bludger at Charity, which was knocked off course by a Ravenclaw beater and sent speeding towards seeker Mary MacDonald, who missed it by an inch.
“Ten points to Gryffindor!” cried Sallow.
James had taken advantage of nearly every player being distracted by the happenings occurring just mere feet above the ground. The snitch was flying low, making it a trickier and more technical catch.
“They have to hold her off,” Minerva fretted aloud to nobody in particular.
Dirk Cresswall was blocking Charity at every turn of her broom but with increasing difficulty.
Higher in the sky, Sirius was chucking bludgers at the chasers close on James' tail. He fended them off, and the game was a rush of excitement as spectators didn't know which way to look.
“No,” Minerva groaned, when Cresswall's risky play proved too much and he crashed directly into the ground.
Without his interference, Charity sped up. It was hers. It was over. Her seeker hand stretched out as far as she could to catch the snitch, with Mary blocked off by the Ravenclaw beaters, having no chance to cumulate this game in anything more than a draw.
“Charity Burbage has caught the snitch!” Sallow explained, and there was clinging as the scoreboard updated. “But…wait for it. Does it count? It does? It does!”
While everyone had been holding their breath and watching Charity, James above had scored another ten points for Gryffindor with not a second to spare so that it had taken everyone a moment to decide what to do.
“Gryffindor wins!” Madam Hooch confirmed.
“GRYFFINDOR WINS’” Sallow cried.
Half of the stadium broke out into cheers. The other half looked as though they wanted to argue the call.
“POTTER! POTTER! POTTER!”
Back on the ground, the Gryffindor team had hoisted James up in the air and was carrying him around in a triumphant procession. In the stand, Minerva picked Jean up and kissed her several times over. Feeling as happy and alive as she could remember feeling when she had been the one trying to win the cup for Gryffindor. Forgetting all the worries of the world for a blessed moment as she cherished all the most important things.