Resolving a Misunderstanding

Her family wondered that Minerva now spent her time studying in her bedroom, rather than in the library as had been her habit. She remained ensconced in her room except when she would go outdoors and sit with her back to an old oak tree, eyes closed. She also took more walks than usual, and when asked why, she just mumbled something about appreciating Nature and took a large mouthful of potatoes so that she wouldn’t have to discuss it. For some reason, she didn’t want to tell her family what she was doing until she was sure she’d be able to transform. Minerva felt that talking about it would somehow dilute the energy she was putting into it. They also wondered at the number of owls she sent off and how she would jump when the post came, quickly snatching away any letter for her before anyone else could see it.

Morgan’s opinion, when he came for a visit in late July, was that “the girl’s suffering from unrequited love.” Malcolm’s thought was that she was just growing up. Murdoch expressed the belief that she was simply being Minerva, only more so. Her mother was afraid that she had come under some bad influence and was reading Dark Magic texts and corresponding with someone unsavoury; her father had dismissed that notion as being as unlikely as Morgan’s. Nonetheless, one day when Minerva was out strolling along the high cliffs near her parents’ home, Merwyn took a look at the books piled on the desk in her bedroom. Flipping through them quickly, he saw that most were Transfiguration texts dealing with Animagus transformation. For Merwyn, this was almost as alarming as if he had found Dark Magic texts littering her room. He was uneasy about invading his teenage daughter’s privacy and looking for her correspondence, but that might be the next step he would have to take.

When Minerva returned from her walk, all aglow from the brisk wind that blew in off the sea, Merwyn asked her to join him in his study for a moment. When they had each taken a seat, Merwyn asked her if she had enjoyed her walk. After she replied in the affirmative, he asked her what she did on these walks of hers.

“I just enjoy Nature, Dad, that’s all.”

“Just enjoying Nature, communing, one could say?” asked Merwyn.

“I suppose.”

“And you aren’t doing anything else?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your mother’s been concerned you’ve taken up with some Dark Wizard who’s leading you astray and having you read Dark texts and meet him out on the cliffs.”

Minerva’s mouth fell open. “What?” She began to laugh and laughed until tears streamed down her face. She finally caught her breath and said to her smiling father, “That’s one of the most ludicrous suggestions I’ve heard in my entire life, Dad!”

“Well, at first she only thought that you were reading Dark texts, but then after hearing Morgan proclaim you no doubt had some unrequited love interest, she came up with that new idea.”

“I hope you told her how silly she was being!”

“Yes, but I had to promise to look at the books you are reading, Min.”

“I’d really rather you didn’t, Dad. It’s a special project.”

“I see. And would your walks have anything to do with this special project?”

“In a way. They . . . are calming.”

“Min, I’m sorry, but I looked at the books on your desk.” Attempting to forestall Minerva’s outrage, he added, “I only glanced at the ones on your desk; I didn’t look in any drawers, or under your pillow, or anything like that.”

“I can’t BELIEVE you would do that! You COULD have ASKED! I didn’t hide them because I didn’t think you’d sneak in and look at them – and it’s not as though they are some kind of Dark texts that I should be ashamed of reading!” Minerva ranted for several more breaths.

When it appeared she had finished, or that she had at least tired herself out for the moment, Merwyn got to the point. “Min, I haven’t said anything to your mother, but I am worried. I need you to tell me that you are not trying to become an Animagus.”

Minerva just stared stonily at him, furious.

“Oh, God, Min, do you know what happens to witches and wizards who try to become Animagi without proper training? We could take you down to St. Mungo’s and show you some examples, I’m sure.”

“Who said I wasn’t having proper training? You all just jumped to conclusions, didn’t you? You, Mother, Morgan, who else? Did Malcolm and Murdoch come to such equally outrageous and inaccurate conclusions?”

“No, Min. In fact, Malcolm said you’ve grown up, and Murdoch said you were just being yourself.”

“Hmmpf, at least some people in this family don’t think I’m a lunatic,” Minerva huffed. “Dad, did you really think that I’m so stupid or ignorant or irresponsible that I would just wander out onto the cliffs alone and try to transform into an Animagus?”

“No. I had hoped not, anyway. I just didn’t know. You are usually bubbling over with excitement when you have a new project, and you never said anything about this one.”

“All right, Dad, let me tell you what I’m doing, and then just drop it, okay?” After a nod from her father, Minerva continued, “Professor Dumbledore believes that I have the capacity and the diligence to become an Animagus. He gave me those books to read over the summer, with instructions on what to read first, and he also gave me some special exercises to perform. He was adamant that I not do any exercise I find anywhere else, even in the books he gave me, without consulting him first. He was quite clear that my safety was important to him and gave me the whole ‘St. Mungo’s lecture,’ too, but it sounded quite a bit friendlier coming from him than it just did coming from you. He’s going to evaluate me in the autumn when I get back to school to see what progress I’ve made and decide what to do next. I can’t believe you all thought that my letters from Professor Dumbledore were from a mysterious Dark Wizard or some kind of unrequited love interest.” Minerva rolled her eyes.

Merwyn still looked uneasy. “I am content that you are receiving instruction, Min, and I believe you when you say that nothing you have done this summer has been dangerous. I also don’t doubt that Professor Dumbledore is concerned for your safety.”

“But?” Minerva asked, knowing her father had some kind of reservation.

“But it is still very dangerous; it is not an ordinary part of the curriculum – and with good reason. I am somewhat alarmed that he would consider guiding you in this project without obtaining our permission first.”

“First, Dad, I have had special projects with Professor Dumbledore since second year. You know about most of them since I wrote rather voluminous letters home, most of which were about my projects. You never complained before that he hadn’t sought your permission.”

Her father interrupted, “Those were different, Min. Those were still within, well, not the standard curriculum, but they were logical extensions. I was grateful you had someone like him to guide you since I was sure that you would have been off experimenting on your own, otherwise, with who-knows-what results! Animagus transformation, on the other hand, is very risky, and it is usually not attempted until a witch or wizard begins an apprenticeship in Transfiguration – and their masters usually make them wait a year-and-a-day to begin studying for it. I care about you, Min, and don’t want you trying to jump into something you aren’t ready for. I simply find it all very puzzling and a bit worrying that Professor Dumbledore would undertake something of this kind with you. You’re only going into your sixth year.”

“You really don’t understand. Professor Dumbledore would not do this with me if he did not think that I am prepared. He told me that. He said I should not feel any pressure about achieving the transformation by any particular time. And for your information, Dad, that year-and-a-day is as much for the master as it is for the Apprentice, because there is greater assurance of success if there is a bond between the two before they undertake the Animagus training. Professor Dumbledore has been my teacher for four years. He is very responsible and an excellent teacher. And he cares about me, so don’t try to imply that because you’re my father and you care about me, that means that he doesn’t. Besides, are you forgetting that I’ll be of age in October?”

“I do forget sometimes that you aren’t my little Minnie-girl anymore.” Merwyn sighed, removed his glasses, and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Listen, I’m going to tell your mother that it’s just a particularly entrancing Transfiguration project and leave it at that.” Minerva breathed a sigh of relief. “However,” Merwyn said, and Minerva’s heart sunk, fearing her father was about to forbid her from studying, “however, I do want to talk to Professor Dumbledore and perhaps get his recommendation of a book I can read so I can understand it all better. I don’t want to hold you back, Minerva. When I read your letters about some of the extra credit work you are doing in Transfiguration and Charms, I am frankly amazed. Some of that isn’t even covered in NEWTs, you know. It never would have surprised me if you had come to me a few years from now and told me you were training to be an Animagus, and I suppose it should come as no surprise now. Nonetheless, I look at you, and I still see my little Minnie-girl.”

“Oh, well, that sounds okay with me. In his last letter, Professor Dumbledore said he’d be at the castle until sometime during the second week of August, then he’d have to leave until term starts, so if you want to owl him, you should do it soon.”

So it was that Merwyn McGonagall found himself at the Three Broomsticks, sitting across a table from Albus Dumbledore. Everyone knew who Albus Dumbledore was, if only because he had discovered the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, and everyone knew someone who knew him personally. Murdoch had mentioned that he had become a regular customer at the Egidius Apothecary in recent years. Merwyn, however, had never met him before that day.

“I must apologize for meeting you in such a public venue, Mr McGonagall, or do you prefer Magister?” Albus asked, aware of Merwyn’s academic accomplishments and the archaic form of address that masters in the field of Ancient Runes usually retained.

“That always makes me feel as though I’m at least two hundred years old, so ‘Mister’ will do just fine, although I prefer ‘Merwyn.’”

“Very well, Merwyn, then; you know that I am ‘Albus.’ Still, I apologise that I can’t meet you up at the castle, but we are doing some general ward maintenance, and a visitor would cause us to have to retune the perimeter wards again. Shall I, however, with your permission, cast a light privacy charm around our table?”

“Does my daughter’s extra credit project really require such a measure?” asked Merwyn, bemused.

Apparently having taken Merwyn’s question for consent, Dumbledore flicked his wand discreetly, and Merwyn felt a tingle of magic wash past him.

“I do like to maintain the privacy of our students’ academic records and pursuits, particularly when they are somewhat unusual, as they are in this case. I understand from your letter that you are concerned, and curious, about the training that Miss McGonagall is about to undergo. I have brought you two books. One is an autobiography by Felix Fletcher, an Animagus who died a few years ago at the ripe-old age of one hundred sixty-eight. He wrote the autobiography when he was a mere youth of one hundred-ten, but that does not concern us, as you will find chapters eight through ten recount his Animagus training. He does mention his Animagus abilities in other chapters, but those three are the essential ones. I do ask that you not share this book with Miss McGonagall, as it may colour her expectations for her own training. The second book is representative of the texts that she has been studying.” Albus handed him the two books.

Merwyn flipped quickly through the first one, glancing at a few pages in chapter eight, then put it down and picked up the second. He looked at the spine, then the front cover, then turned to the title page.

“Hmm, no picture. Fellow must be an ugly bugger.” Merwyn looked up and grinned at Albus. “He’s hopefully improved with age. So, what’s the ‘B’ stand for? Brian, if I remember correctly?”

Albus laughed, delighted. “My word, Minerva certainly came by her perspicacity and sense of humour honestly!”

“So, you’ve come to know my daughter’s sense of humour, have you? She keeps that well-hidden if she doesn’t trust you. You must be doing something right.”

“I believe that the first time I really saw her sense of humour in evidence was one night my first year here when I brought her to my office supposedly to scold her for a serious infraction of the school rules.” Albus proceeded to tell Merwyn the story of Minerva’s Transfigured textbook.

“Oh, my,” laughed Merwyn, “that does sound like Min at that age. ‘Stubborn’ wasn’t the word for it. Even ‘obstinate’ seemed too mild at times. And those books – we’d have to tear them away from her, and this in a family that thinks that a book belongs at the breakfast table! She seems to have grown into being more ‘determined’ than simply stubborn over the last few years, though,” Merwyn mused.

Merwyn and Albus continued chatting about Minerva, then moved on to the subject of ancient curses and were in animated conversation over their tea – both had agreed that it was too early for a drink – when a somewhat irritated Minerva made an appearance.

“Da-ad! You said you’d come get me when I could join you. I’ve been in every shop in Hogsmeade, twice! I was beginning to think I’d have to go find lunch on my own. And then I come in to see you two laughing away behind this, this, whatever this ward is,” she said, frowning and waving her hand, obviously wanting to figure out what unfamiliar charm she had just crossed, “and you’re talking about potatoes and leeks! Are you both mad?!”

The two wizards looked at one another, then looked away, then looked back and began laughing again.

“So, that’s what your little privacy screen, does, eh, Albus?”

“Yes, well, I find that when people think you’re having extended discussions about vegetables, they don’t pay much attention to anything else you say.” The two wizards laughed again.

Minerva shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I think Mother’s right: men never really do grow up.”

“My apologies, Miss McGonagall,” Albus said, standing and pulling out a chair for her. “I was regrettably unaware that you were here, or I would certainly not have detained your father any longer than necessary. And I certainly would not wish to keep you from your lunch!”

“That’s all right, Professor. It’s not your fault. I hope you’re not leaving!”

“No, no, I will take my lunch with you and your father, if I may. I was just fetching the waitress to tell her we will be ordering food.”

“Oh, that’s good, then,” said Minerva, turning to her father as Dumbledore walked toward the bar. “So I take it you don’t think he’s a Dark Wizard about to lead me astray into some Peculiar and Perilous Transfigurative Art?” She smirked.

Merwyn grinned. “No, but I’m still making up my mind about the unrequited love angle. If I could only figure out which side was unrequited,” he teased.

“Dad! That’s awful! You’re embarrassing me!” Indeed, Minerva was turning quite red.

“Everyone probably believes we’re discussing the relative merits of rutabagas and radishes or some such,” her father replied with a grin. “Yes, Minnie-girl, to answer your unasked question, I do like him. And I see why you trust him, as well, I think. He seems to be a genuinely good man, through and through.”

“He is. So everything’s all right now?”

“Yes, lassie, everything’s all right now. I’m sure accidents happen, but I’m also sure that Professor Dumbledore is equal to any chaos you might cause.” Merwyn winked at her and smiled.

Minerva pretended to be injured. “I’m not Murdoch, you know. I don’t think that my wand’s a rod for stirring potions!”

“Let me see, I remember him mistaking his stirring rod for his wand once, but I don’t think he’s mistaken his wand for a stirring rod yet. . . . Probably because he forgets it on his dresser in the morning!”

They were laughing at this old family joke, based on an incident Uncle Perrin had related to them during the first year Murdoch worked in his apothecary, when Albus returned to the table.

“I do hope you aren’t offended, but I have taken the liberty of ordering our lunch. There are certain dishes at the Broomsticks that are, shall we say, better than others. I hope that there is nothing you will be unable to eat, Merwyn.”

“I have a stomach like an iron cauldron, Egeria always says.”

The three had a delightful lunch, and Merwyn said he would owl Albus with a list of the books he’d mentioned to him and send any on to Hogwarts with Minerva if Albus were unable to locate copies for himself. Thus, Minerva’s Animagus project received her father’s blessing.