Resolving a Misunderstanding

Minerva and Melina met, as agreed, outside of Scrivenshaft’s and took a few moments to glance at the quills they had on display in the window. The two had turned to leave, when behind them they heard a familiar voice.

“Ah, Fortune must have smiled upon me today! Two lovely McGonagalls!”

The two turned back to see Albus emerging from Scrivenshaft’s with a surprisingly large package, considering the kind of wares Scrivenshaft’s sold.

“Professor Dumbledore!” exclaimed Melina happily. “I think it is we upon whom Fortune has smiled – or, at least, on me – Minerva gets to see you every day. This is an unexpected pleasure!”

“And how are you, Miss McGonagall?” asked Dumbledore. “Or should I say ‘Healer McGonagall’?”

Minerva started at hearing “Miss McGonagall,” then realised immediately that Albus had been addressing Melina and not her.

“Oh, I’m very well, Professor. I’m in Edinburgh now, at the clinic, finishing up my programme. In June, you shall be able to call me ‘Healer,’ if you wish!”

“Of course I will, Miss McGonagall; after all, you have worked very hard these last years to earn that title. But I do hope you aren’t neglecting any patients today, strolling the streets of Hogsmeade with your aunt?” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

Melina laughed. “In fact, Professor, we just got here; we were –”

Minerva cut her off, worried that Melina was about to tell Albus about their afternoon up to that point, and she really preferred that he didn’t hear all the details Melina might launch into. “We were just meeting Poppy Pomfrey at Madam Puddifoot’s in a few minutes, Headmaster.”

Albus grinned. “Well, Professor, please don’t let me keep you from your tea. I have heard she serves an excellent trifle.”

“Perhaps you could join us, Professor,” invited Melina. “Or I suppose I should call you ‘Headmaster’ now!”

“I wouldn’t dream of intruding on your ‘girls’ afternoon out.’” Albus smiled. “And ‘Professor’ is fine, Miss McGonagall, unless you wish to call me ‘Albus.’”

“I don’t know if I could manage that, Professor, but please don’t feel you would be intruding! Although I am sure that you have other, more pressing business at Hogwarts than taking tea with three witches.”

Minerva looked on, unsure of whether she should encourage Albus to join them, or scold Melina later for inviting him, or both. “I’m sure you’re right, Melina. The Headmaster is a very busy man.”

“Nothing would delight me more than having tea with three charming witches; however, I do need to be elsewhere shortly. I am afraid I have a prior engagement.”

After a few more pleasantries, they took their leave, and Minerva hustled Melina down the pavement. “Really, Melina, we will be late to meet Poppy,” she scolded. “Standing in the cold in front of Scrivenshaft’s, detaining the Headmaster from his business, was not why we Apparated to Hogsmeade.”

Melina laughed good-naturedly. “Come on, Min, he spoke to us first! It would have been rude just to walk away, and I know you do not like to be rude. And what was it with all this ‘Headmaster Dumbledore’ business? Do you always address him so formally? I thought you liked him – wasn’t that one of the reasons you took the job?”

“Hush! Heavens, Melina! Do you possess no discretion by now? We were in public. It is only respectful to address him appropriately. When he called you ‘Miss McGonagall,’ well, it was as though I was speaking to him in front of a student, or something, I suppose. And, as I said, we were on a public street. Which we still are, until we enter this establishment, at which time, we will still be in public. Do you know what that means, Melina?” asked Minerva as they approached the door to Madam Puddifoot’s and paused.

“Um, that I should address you as ‘Professor McGonagall, ma’am’?” asked Melina cheekily.

Minerva restrained herself from rolling her eyes. “Don’t be fresh. That is not what I meant, and you know it. Although if you could remember my name is ‘Minerva,’ I would appreciate it.” With that, Minerva opened the door to Madam Puddifoot’s.

She didn’t know when last her senses had been so assaulted. There was a cacophony of pink everywhere, from shocking pink to salmon pink to pale petal pink; the colour saturated the entire tearoom.

“Get a move on, Min– erva! It’s cold out here,” Melina said, prodding her aunt gently in the back.

“This has got to be the most atrocious room I have ever been in,” whispered Minerva to her niece, as they stood looking around for Poppy. They finally found her, tucked behind one of the entirely improbable bushes that the proprietress had scattered between the tables – no doubt believing that they lent a romantic atmosphere. In Minerva’s opinion, however, they were ugly to the point of putting her off her tea. The bush that had concealed the matron’s presence possessed variegated pink and white leaves and small red buds like miniature butterflies, gently flapping their petals like wings. Some kind of mutated Flutterby plant, perhaps, unless it had been charmed pink. Minerva shuddered and wished she could sit with her back to it, but that was the seat that Poppy had chosen.

As introductions were made and tea requested (Minerva ordering the trifle, despite the fact it wasn’t one of her preferred desserts), the surroundings receded a bit, although Minerva maintained later that she found the flapping petals too distracting to properly concentrate on her food.

Poppy and Melina took to one another immediately, as Minerva had hoped they would, and after the two had shaken their heads with amazement that their paths had always just missed crossing – first at Hogwarts, where Melina entered her first year in 1947 and Poppy had left in 1945, then at St. Mungo’s, where Melina had begun her training in 1954, just months after Poppy had left the hospital to return to Hogwarts, which Melina had just left only a few weeks before, following her NEWTs. Both had been Hufflepuffs, and, between their shared experiences at the school and at the hospital, the two had many acquaintances in common. Soon the conversation turned to the recent scrofungulus outbreak in Edinburgh, Melina explaining that that was one reason she had two days off in a row.

“None of us had a break for three solid weeks, Poppy. I’m sure you know what that’s like. So Healer Boneset decided we all deserved a little time off. We drew lots, and I was the lucky one to get the weekend.”

Minerva, glad that Poppy and Melina had so much in common and hit it off so well, was still beginning to feel a bit like one of the bushes, although not as conspicuous.

“I do hope you are not about to begin discussing scrofungulus again, Melina. I had quite enough of that at lunch without having it disturb my appetite now, too,” Minerva said with a light smile.

Melina chuckled. “I don’t know how you could have overheard much, with Grandmother Egeria putting you through the wringer like that.” She took a sip of her hot tea.

Poppy turned to Minerva and said, “Let me guess. She was ‘discussing’ your social life again.” Poppy seemed to think this quite funny.

“Don’t you laugh, Poppy, since your social life was under scrutiny, as well!”

Poppy seemed to swallow her tea the wrong way. Before she knew it, Melina had cast a quick charm, and she had stopped choking. “Ta, Melina! What do you mean my social life?” Poppy was somewhat indignant.

“Well, not your social life, so much as your lack of one. Mother found it a pity that you were meeting me for tea and not a gentleman friend. She saw it as a sign that we both lead a cloistered existence at Hogwarts.”

“What! Even if I were seeing someone, who’s to say that I wouldn’t meet you for tea?”

“Grandmother’s notion is that you two are so isolated up at the castle, that if you had an afternoon off, you would be spending it doing something with someone of the opposite sex – something far more fun than having tea in Hogsmeade.” Melina waggled her eyebrows suggestively and giggled.

“Melina McGonagall, you know that’s not what she said!” Minerva cried in mock outrage.

Melina giggled again and licked up a bit of pink icing. “Maybe not in those words, but it’s what she was thinking. And certainly what she was implying. ‘You should have more joy in life, Minerva’ – and you know she wasn’t talking about the intellectual pleasure of solving a knotty problem in Transfiguration.”

Minerva turned almost as red as the obnoxious little blossoms that seemed ready to flit from their stems. “She just wants me to be happy, is all. Since you seem to have listened to our conversation, you probably are also aware that she told me she doesn’t care if I ever get married!” Minerva seemed to think that declaration would end the conversation, but she was mistaken.

“No!? Really?! Your mother actually said that? But I thought she was always trying to get you to meet people, wizards, in hopes of getting you married off!” Poppy was glad the conversation had been so neatly deflected from her social life back to Minerva’s.

Melina laughed out loud at that. “Oh, don’t make any mistake there, Poppy. Grandmother still wants Minerva to meet the right wizard – and make whoopie, as the Muggles say – she just doesn’t care if she gets married to do it!” Melina was clearly taking pleasure in Minerva’s discomfiture.

“Well, who are you to speak, Miss Melina I’m-always-too-busy McGonagall! You’re younger than I am – you’re supposed to be sowing your wild oats, or gathering them, or whatever it is that young witches do. I don’t see you off with some ‘gentleman friend,’ as mother would put it, on your first Saturday free in weeks.”

Minerva expected to get a rise out of Melina with her words and was surprised when Melina just blushed and fiddled with her teacup.

“What haven’t you told me, Melina?” Minerva asked. Poppy wondered if she should excuse herself to use the little witches’ room, but then decided this was too much fun.

“Well, Min,” Melina took a deep breath, “you see, that was one of the reasons I wanted to see you this afternoon. I wanted to tell you about Brennan.”

“I see,” said Minerva slowly. “And who is this ‘Brennan,’ and what did you want to tell me about him?”

“Brennan O’Donald. I met him a few months ago at a play. It was the interval, and we’d both gone to the bar set up in the lobby to get a drink. We’d each ordered the same thing; the bartender had thought we were together and that it was the same order, so he only made one. When he put it down on the counter, Brennan and I both reached for it at the same time, knocking it over and making a mess. We laughed about it, and he bought us each a drink, then the interval was over. I didn’t think about him again, honestly, but then I was at a concert one afternoon – one of those free ones they have at the museum – and I heard a voice behind me asking if I’d care for a drink. I turned around, and there he was. We chatted a bit, then we found seats next to each other. We didn’t make any arrangements to meet again, but we did, anyway, a few nights later, at another concert. Well, as he said, three times is the charm, so he invited me to go to dinner with him after the concert. We’ve been seeing each other ever since.”

“I gather from what you say that these have been Muggle concerts. It’s rather a coincidence, don’t you think, that you and this wizard should keep meeting at these Muggle events, and you have never met him otherwise? Have you considered the fact that, well, there’s something wrong with him and that he deliberately followed you and met you at these places?”

“No, it never occurred to me that there is anything wrong with him! He’s not some strange masher, Minerva. It is perfectly normal that I never would have met him anywhere else before since he is not a wizard.”

Both Poppy and Minerva were silent.

“He’s very nice, Minerva! I want you to meet him. I need you to like him. Really.” As she pleaded with her aunt, Melina suddenly looked very young to Minerva.

“Oh, darling Melina, I’m sure he’s very nice. But, dear, what have you told him? Surely if you’ve known him a few months, it’s been getting more than a little awkward, never being able to bring him home, or have him pick you up.” Suddenly Minerva had an alarming thought. “You haven’t told him you’re a witch yet, have you, Melina?”

“No, no! What do you take me for, Minerva? I have a friend at the clinic who has a flat in Muggle Edinburgh. He picks me up there. Jennie has even put an extra bed in her little study and lets me keep a few things in it, so it looks as though I live there. Brennan keeps saying I should get a place of my own – he’s even offered me a job since my excuse is that I only just moved to Edinburgh and can’t afford my own place yet. He seems to think I’ve spent too much money on attending concerts and that I should be saving for a flat, so he won’t ever let me pay for my own tickets anymore. He insists that’s how it should be, anyway, and that he wants to treat me like a lady.”

“I wonder how he’d feel if he knew his lady was a witch, though?” asked Poppy, saying something for the first time in a while.

“Oh, he’s wonderful, Poppy! I know he wouldn’t mind. It’d probably be confusing, at first, but as long as we didn’t do anything too startling at the beginning, I really don’t think it would be a problem. We have so much in common. He’s a chemist, and he even owns his own shop. That’s how he was able to offer me a job, you see. He thinks that I’d been studying pharmacology in London and had to move to Edinburgh for family reasons.” Melina sighed then and said, “You are right, Minerva, it has been difficult keeping so much from him. If dad didn’t live above the apothecary, I might even be able to bring him home, if we had Quimpy stay hidden. But he can’t even see the apothecary, let alone enter McTavish Street, because of the Muggle-repelling Charms. Of course, if he did see the apothecary, that would possibly be even worse. I just don’t think I can continue seeing him and making up stories like this, Auntie Min, that’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

Minerva couldn’t remember the last time her niece had called her “Auntie Min.” With just a little over a decade separating them, they were actually closer in age than she and Melina’s father, Murdoch, were.

“Well, Melina,” said Minerva, patting her hand comfortingly, “I know it is hard to stop seeing someone whom you care about, thinking of the right excuse, but – ”

Melina broke in, “That’s not what I mean at all, Minerva! I need to find a way to stop lying to him without sounding like I’m off my rocker and without breaking any of the Muggle Protection laws.”

“Well, then, you’ll have to marry the bloke,” said Poppy briskly. “Spring wedding, perhaps?”

“What!” exclaimed Melina. “But I’ve only known him a few months. I don’t think either of us is thinking in that direction yet. He hasn’t even met my father. He’s nervous enough contemplating that without my suggesting marriage. And I cannot marry him under false pretenses, him thinking I’m just another Muggle, then finding out after it’s too late that I’m not.” Melina finished her anguished lament and put her head in her hands.

“We understand that, Melina, but why do you think there are so few Magic-Muggle marriages? Not only do we rarely mingle enough to meet, but it is simply too risky to inform a Muggle about our world only to have it turn out that the Muggle and the witch or wizard go their separate ways, leaving the Muggle with dangerous knowledge of us,” explained Minerva. “And faced with a choice, most witches and wizards, confronted with the option of continuing to weave ever more complicated fictions about their life and waiting to see if marriage is down the road or leaping feet first into the cauldron and marrying a Muggle they don’t know particularly well, most decide to break off their liaisons.”

Melina, looking even sadder, clarified, “It’s not a liaison.”

Poppy, thinking of something that Melina had said, asked, “Why is he nervous to meet your father? I know most young men are a bit nervous about it, but have you made up some terrible story about him, as well, to explain why he hasn’t met him yet even though he’s right there in Edinburgh?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s just that, well, Muggles are a little peculiar, is all, about age. To us, a difference of a decade or two is nothing, but apparently he’s afraid that dad will think he’s ‘robbing the cradle,’ as he put it.”

“My word, Melina, how old is he?” asked Poppy, envisioning a wrinkly old geezer lusting after a fresh young witch.

“Not that old! I keep telling him that, but he keeps saying he’s almost twice as old as I am. I tell him that just means that he knows how to treat a lady right.”

“Oh, well, that’s all right, then. I was just picturing some ancient Muggle drooling all over you, and it gave me the creeps,” replied Poppy with a little shudder.

“No, it’s not all right, Poppy!” exclaimed Minerva. “How can you say such an irresponsible thing? The man is a Muggle, for heavens sakes – and I like Muggles as much as the next witch – but it is complicated. Not wrong, please don’t misunderstand me, Melina. Not wrong, just very complicated. It only becomes more complicated by the fact that he’s older.” Minerva held up her hand, silencing Poppy and Melina. “It’s not that he’s an older man, but that he’s an older Muggle. Muggles become less and less open-minded as they get older, although I suppose that could be said of anyone, but worse than that, Muggle men have very short life expectancies. Why, you two could marry next week, and it would feel as though you had just turned around and -poof!- he’s dead!”

Melina looked stricken and speechless at Minerva’s words.

“Come, now,” said Poppy forcefully, “it’s not as bad as all that! How old is Brennan, then, about forty?”

“Thirty-nine,” said Melina miserably.

“Piffle! That’s nothing! He has decades left! You’ll outlive him, no doubt, barring something unusual, but that’s to be expected, anyway. Witches often outlive their husbands. And some go on to marry again, some don’t, but I doubt that their opinion on whether they should have married or not in the first place rests on when their husbands died – no, it would depend on the kind of husband he was. And think of it, Melina, Minerva: any of us could die tomorrow in an accident, or we could contract some terrible, incurable disease, or something. There’s no guarantee for any of us that we will live to see the next day, is there? But do we say, ‘oh, there’s just no point in doing anything because we may die tomorrow?’ No! Because we may die, we live in the meantime!”

Minerva played with the trifle left on her plate. “You know, Melina, I think Poppy’s right,” she said slowly. “I simply worry that you’ll be unhappy, or that you’re borrowing trouble. I can’t help it; I care about you.”

Melina sighed. “I know, Minerva. And it’s not as though I wasn’t aware of everything you’d said, I was just trying to avoid thinking about it all. To me, the worst part has been making up the stories, and I was hoping you would have an easy solution to that.”

“No, I don’t. Do you, Poppy?” When Poppy shook her head, Minerva continued, “Let me think about it for a while, though, and do a little research. In the meantime, have you told your father yet? No? Well, then I think that’s the first thing you should do. Then I think you should have them meet – maybe dinner in a nice restaurant; Murdoch should still fit into his good blue suit. Then have Brennan bring you back to that flat and have your father go home on his own. Fortunately, Murdoch is good at mingling with Muggles, and if you’re in a public place, there shouldn’t be too much opportunity for either of you to slip up and say the wrong thing. I do wonder what you’ve told Brennan your father does for a living, though.”

Melina blushed a bit. “I told him he’d been a chemist in London and he’d been sacked for incompetence so he’s living off of mother’s insurance money and please don’t be mad at me Dad will be already!” she finished in a rush of breath.

Minerva just looked at Melina expressionlessly, then she burst out laughing. After a moment, the other two witches joined her.

“Oh, my, Melina, you never fail to disappoint!” chuckled Minerva, trying to catch her breath and wiping tears of laughter from her cheeks. “I wish I could be a fly on the wall when you tell your dad that one!”

“Hmm, Melina, how much have you actually told Brennan about your father’s supposed sacking?” asked Poppy.

“Not much, really. I act like it’s an uncomfortable topic for me, and he doesn’t press. I don’t want to make up so many details that he gets curious and asks around in London about him. He must know other chemists who work there. It could wreck everything if he finds out that I’m lying to him about that. I’ve already had to be evasive about my supposed course work in London. Fortunately, I’ve done enough reading in Muggle medicine to be able to sound like I’ve done a term or two.”

“Well, suppose you tell him that it wasn’t your father’s error, but that he took the blame for some other chap who had a young family to feed, or something? That he believed it was a one-time error the young man had learned from, and he didn’t want him and his family to suffer from it for the rest of his life, hmm? I hope you didn’t make it a deadly error.”

“Oh, no, I said that he’d just put the wrong dosage on a bottle and the patient hadn’t taken enough and so had got sicker until the doctor discovered she’d not been getting enough medicine.”

“Well, that’s not so bad, then,” said Poppy. “But now we really need to be going. None of my charms have become warm while we’re sitting here, but it’s already dinnertime at the castle, so we should be getting back.”

“Hmm, I’m surprised that after a Hogsmeade weekend, no one has eaten themselves sick on Honeydukes’ sweets. I doubt the students will be eating much dinner tonight, and they’ll be so tired, they might not have the energy to get into any trouble!” added Minerva, as they called for their bill.

“What are your charms, Poppy?” asked Melina, trying to see them from across the table.

“Ah, Professor Dumbledore gave them to me after he became Headmaster. He always felt, you see, that I was far too tied to the castle, even when no one was ill since accidents can happen anytime. Whenever I did want to get into town, I had to let the Deputy, which he had been, as you know, have a list of places I was going and when I was going to be at each of them. It rather puts a damper on an afternoon of shopping if I have to schedule how many minutes I spend in each shop! On top of that, I never felt easy about leaving for more than a few hours at a time. With this charm bracelet, however, I can be contacted from the Headmaster’s Office at any time I leave the Hogwarts grounds.” Poppy held out her wrist to display her bracelet. “The cauldron means there’s been some kind of potions accident, the wand means there’s a spell involved, the broom means it’s an accidental injury since so many of those involve Quidditch. If the hat gets warm, it’s a student; if the book does, it’s a staff member. And the feather means that it’s an extreme emergency.”

“Why a feather?” asked Melina as they were leaving the restaurant.

“Because birds fly, I suppose,” Poppy replied.

The three set off down the main street, Melina saying that she’d walk with them as far as the Three Broomsticks since she planned to Floo home from there, rather than Apparate for the third time that day. The three women walked through the new snow that had fallen while they had been in Madam Puddifoot’s and chatted, Melina saying she’d take Minerva’s and Poppy’s advice and Owl them both soon. As they neared the Three Broomsticks, they could see two people emerging from it and the warmly lit room beyond. One of the two figures was clearly that of Dumbledore; the other was a witch. As the two turned to head toward the castle, the witch seemed to slip a bit in the snow. The Headmaster’s hand reached out and caught her before she fell, then he crooked his elbow, offering an arm, which she took.

“He’s still the same, sweet, gallant Professor Dumbledore, then,” said Melina with a smile, her cheeks rosy from the cold.

“You’ve only been gone from school a few years, Melina, what did you expect? That he’d grown an extra head and begun spitting in the streets or something?” asked Minerva irritably.

“What’s got into you, anyway? I just meant that it was good to see him earlier, is all. And seeing him just now reminded me.”

Poppy, thinking to avert some kind of odd family squabble, intervened, saying, “It’s nice to see the Headmaster take some time for himself. He rarely does. I don’t know how his health hasn’t suffered for it yet. I do wonder, though, that both he and Gertie could be gone from the castle during dinner. He’s usually fairly insistent that one or the other of them attend every meal – preferably both. Professor Gamp is his new Deputy,” Poppy explained in an aside to Melina.

“Well, it’s just none of our business, is it? We don’t run the school or monitor their lives. And I happen to know that each House is having supper in their individual common rooms tonight, as a special treat after the Hogsmeade weekend. I know because Horace and Wilhelmina were complaining to Professor Gamp about it,” said Minerva, looking more closely after the couple and seeing that Poppy had been correct about the identity of the second party. “They said it was always extra work for them to monitor the common rooms when they did that. I got the impression that Wilhelmina would just as soon never win a Quidditch game because she has to stay up too late to monitor the Gryffindors’ victory parties.”

They had reached the Three Broomsticks and Melina paused, looking up at the two women beside her. “I know it’s late for you, but do you have time for one drink before I leave? Please?” she wheedled.

Poppy hesitated. A warm Butterbeer would taste nice on a night like tonight.

“No, Melina, I’m sorry, Poppy and I have to get back up to the castle. Just because I had the day off doesn’t mean that I didn’t leave a lot of work behind. And I think I’ll stop by Gryffindor House and see if Grubbly-Plank wants a hand.”

“All right, Min. Thanks so much, both of you, for listening to me and for the advice. I just hope I don’t bollix things up too badly.” Melina hugged her aunt hard, who returned the embrace warmly, then turned to Poppy and gave her a quick hug, too. “I’m so glad Minerva finally introduced us. We’ll have to get together sometime and talk about all of the boring and disgusting things she didn’t let us talk about this afternoon!”

Minerva smiled, and Poppy laughed, saying she’d love to get together sometime when their schedules allowed, then added that Melina was welcome to stop by the Hogwarts infirmary anytime she had a free afternoon – she might have to set her to work, if it was busy, but she was welcome, in any case.

“I’d like that, Poppy!” Melina smiled happily at her new friend.

“Well, then, I’ll just ask the Headmaster to put you on the list of permanently approved guests – unless you’d prefer to do that, Minerva?”

“No, no – she’s a Healer-trainee and coming to see you; I think you are the more appropriate person to make that request. Although if you don’t stop by and visit me, I shall be gravely injured!” Minerva added to her niece.

Melina laughed and gave her aunt a quick kiss on the cheek before hurrying into the warmth of the pub behind her. The other two continued their walk up the street in the direction of Hogwarts.

“Want to Apparate to the gates?” asked Poppy. “It’s bloody cold out tonight.”

“You could do a Warming Charm, if it really bothers you,” Minerva said somewhat absently. “But, no, I think I’d like the walk. You go ahead, if you want. It’s been a busy day, and I wouldn’t mind a quiet walk up to the castle, honestly.”

“Well,” Poppy hesitated.

“Go on ahead, really. Unless you’ll take offense, in which case, don’t. I’m happy to have your company, but I won’t mind if you go on ahead.”

“All right, if you’re sure. See you tomorrow at breakfast, then?” Poppy asked, knowing that her friend really wouldn’t mind the frigid walk up to the gates.

“Probably. I do have a lot of work to finish for Monday, so I may just have a cup of tea in my room.”

“Okay, then. Don’t dawdle, though, it is too cold!” With that, Poppy Apparated the rest of the way to the gates. It was too dark for Minerva to see her up ahead; she could barely make out the dim lanterns that hung on either side of the gates.

She continued her walk, glad for the silence. As the snow began to fall again, she wondered what it was that was bothering her, for something was. She was annoyed about Poppy’s remarks about the Headmaster and Gertrude, but about something more, too. . . . She wasn’t going to think about it, she decided; after all, it was she who had said that what Dumbledore did was none of their business. Besides, it was probably just Grubbly-Plank’s attitude that bothered her. She’d been the Gryffindor Head of House for over a year, and she still didn’t seem to know all their names. This despite the fact that she taught all of the second- through fifth-years every year, meaning that she only had to learn the names of the ten first-year students since she either had taught or was teaching the other sixty or so. Not only that, but she had left the last Quidditch match early, and it had been Gryffindor - Slytherin; it had been a tight match until the Gryffindor Seeker had caught the Snitch in a daring dive. When the players looked around for their Head of House, she hadn’t been there. But Minerva had stood and cheered and waved a Gryffindor banner. She may not have endeared herself to the Slytherins in that moment, but it seemed that the Gryffindors had warmed toward her a bit more.

Minerva didn’t want to misjudge the woman, but she really didn’t think that Grubbly-Plank was cut out to be a House Head. She was quite a competent teacher, by all accounts, although she hadn’t been the Care of Magical Creatures Professor until the year after Minerva had left, so she didn’t know from personal experience. Yes, she would definitely stop by Gryffindor House and see if she could help. She’d go see Wilhelmina first, of course, if she were in her rooms. She didn’t want to offend her, after all.

With that decision made, Minerva finished her trek across the grounds to the castle. She’d stop by Gryffindor, then grade some essays before bed. In the morning, she could unpack her bag of goodies and start decorating her classroom. Minerva felt quite cheered as she tramped through the fresh snow toward home, thinking about the various things she had packed away in her bag and ignoring the little niggling voices that repeated, ‘I have a previous engagement’ and ‘both he and Gertie . . . gone from the castle during dinner,’ until they had faded completely.