A Smooth Apparater
The warm days of August passed quickly for Minerva, and September first was fast approaching when she received an Owl from Professor Dumbledore.
“Dear Miss McGonagall,
“I trust that this letter finds you and your family well. Please thank your father for me; the texts he recommended have proved most useful. I was, however, unable to locate one of them, Archaic Syllabaries and the Power of the Veiled Grapheme. If he would be so kind to loan me his copy, should he possess one, I would be quite grateful.
“From your recent letters, I discern that you have made steady progress in your exercises, and I am pleased with your evident grasp of Animagi-theory. I will be returning to Hogwarts in a few days to prepare for the start of classes, and hope that you will be able to join me there three or four days before the beginning of term so that we may conduct an evaluation and determine what next steps we should pursue. Please share this letter with your father and ask whether you might return to Hogwarts on the morning of Friday, August 29. I shall be happy to come and retrieve you and your luggage so as to minimise any inconvenience to you or your family. It has been, however, quite some time since I have visited the McGonagall residence, and I would appreciate it if your father were to kindly supplement my memory and forward Apparition co-ordinates to me. It would be most embarrassing to arrive Splinched!
“With hopes of seeing you soon,
“I remain,
“Sincerely yours,
“Albus Dumbledore”
Minerva’s father agreed quite readily to both of the Transfiguration Professor’s requests, taking Archaic Syllabaries from his shelf and wrapping it carefully in a soft cloth. From what he had gathered, Dumbledore had been researching ancient curses and malevolent wards in an effort to locate Grindelwald and break down his magical shields. Neither wizard, of course, had explicitly discussed Albus’s work for the Ministry, nor mentioned Grindelwald by name; but everyone knew that Albus had been enlisted to help find and destroy the tyrannical wizard. When Albus had spoken of his most recent researches into ancient language systems and warding methods, and their modern application, Merwyn had put two-and-two together and mentioned several little-known texts that might be useful in Dumbledore’s research. He was pleased to learn that there were a few that were unfamiliar to the learned wizard, and so had offered him the use of his own copies, should he need them.
Merwyn was also not averse to Minerva’s early return to Hogwarts, knowing how much her own research meant to her. Although he was quite adept at charms himself, his interest had always lain more in the theoretical underpinnings of uttered spells, rather than in their practical application. His wife, on the other hand, didn’t care whether anyone knew why a spell worked, as long as it was useful and positive. In Minerva, he could see aspects of both himself and his wife.
As Minerva packed her trunk, her father joined her in her bedroom.
“Not having Fwisky help, I see.”
“No; she always wants to shrink everything, and I still can’t reverse the charm on my own.” Minerva sighed with exasperation at the Restrictions on Underage Sorcery.
“You’ll be at Hogwarts, though; you should be able to use your wand when you get there. And if not, you could ask Professor Dumbledore – ”
“I am not having any of my teachers see my underclothes!” cried Minerva. “And I would feel uncomfortable asking for permission to use my wand; it’s enough of an inconvenience for them to have me arrive days early, I’m sure, without having me requesting special privileges.”
“I didn’t mean to suggest that you have Professor Dumbledore unpack your ‘unmentionables,’” teased Merwyn. “I was thinking more along the lines of him sending a Hogwarts house-elf to assist you. And, Min, from what I remember of Hogwarts, you will need your wand to light your candles, unless you want to ask for matches, like a first year.”
“Your memory is outdated, Dad. The first-year rooms all have Automagical Candles. You don’t need a wand – or matches – to light them.”
“Hmm, well, I suppose you could borrow one of those, then. But I still think you should shrink your things. Your trunk is full, and you’re stuffing a second carpet bag. Think of Professor Dumbledore, Min – he’s already doing you a favour by fetching you himself. Do you want to break the poor old fellow’s back or, worse, have him Splinch trying to Apparate all that?”
“For your information, Dad, Professor Dumbledore could Apparate with all the contents of this house and never Splinch!” Well, perhaps that was an exaggeration. “And I’m sure he knows a good feather-light charm or two.”
“I’m just taking the mickey, lass; don’t be so serious!”
“Hmmpf,” grunted Minerva, thinking about what her father had said about Apparating. “Say, Dad? I was wondering something. Professor Dumbledore said something in his letter about not having been here in a long time, but I don’t remember him ever visiting. What did he mean?”
“Ah, yes. He was friends with my father, as I understand it. Of course, I was too young to remember if he ever visited after I was born.” Merwyn’s father had died in an accident when he was two years old. His mother had always seemed equally as disturbed that he had died “like a Muggle” when he had fallen from a cliff near the house, as she was by his actual demise. The fall hadn’t even been what killed him; one of the large rocks that had followed in his wake had struck him in the head with such force that even a wizard could not have withstood it. “He was friends with your mother’s Uncle Perseus, as well, I believe, although I don’t know if they have stayed in contact over the years.”
Minerva had always known her professor was old, but somehow she had never realised quite how old. He was practically ancient! What was the Ministry thinking, sending him off to find Grindelwald? Then she smiled to herself and shook her head. Compared to her Great-great Aunt Matilda, Professor Dumbledore was a mere youth. Besides, he had more energy than most of her other, much younger, teachers; Slughorn came readily to mind.
Albus arrived punctually the next morning at eight-thirty to find Minerva and her parents waiting for him. At the crack of his Apparition, Minerva stood from her seat on the trunk.
“Ah, all ready to go, I see, Miss McGonagall! And you must be Madam McGonagall! Albus Dumbledore at your service,” he said as he bent over Egeria’s outstretched hand and lightly brushed his lips against her knuckles in approved Continental fashion. “Miss McGonagall.” Albus reached for Minerva’s hand and repeated the gesture.
Minerva blushed. No one had ever seriously kissed her hand in greeting before. Murdoch did so sometimes in jest, planting a sloppy wet kiss on the back of her hand. Not that it was an uncommon gesture, but everyone always saw her as Egeria and Merwyn’s little girl, not as a lady worthy of such a greeting.
Albus quickly turned and shook hands with Merwyn. “Merwyn! You look well. It is good to see you again.”
“Good morning, Albus. I have given the book you requested to Minerva. It’s packed in her blue carpet bag. I tell you that because it’s rather old, and I don’t know how well it would withstand a shrinking charm, though I do recommend both shrinking and lightening charms for the rest of her baggage,” Merwyn suggested.
Minerva rolled her eyes at her father, hoping he wouldn’t go into the whole wand-use issue. Fortunately, he didn’t. Albus simply shrank the trunk and her dark brown carpet bag with a wave of his hand, cast lightening charms on them, then picked them up and put them in one of his pockets. He cast another wandless lightening charm on the blue carpet bag and hefted it in his left hand.
“Yes, that will do nicely, I think,” he said. “So, Miss McGonagall, are you accompanying your luggage today, or will you follow on tomorrow?” he asked with a twinkle.
“Oh, yes, of course.” Minerva stepped a bit closer to her professor.
“Now how are you with Side-Along-Apparition, my dear? Any nausea or dizziness?”
“Um, it depends, sir. I never have trouble with my dad or Murdoch, but, well . . . .” Minerva had avoided thinking about the embarrassing prospect of vomiting all over her professor’s robes, although she had taken the precaution of having only ginger tea and dry toast that morning.
Egeria chimed in. “You might want to take a step back when you arrive, Professor. The last time we Apparated together, I had to use a strong Scourgify on my shoes.”
Minerva blushed at her mother’s words. Why did parents have to be sooo embarrassing! Professor Dumbledore had greeted her as though she were a full-grown witch, and her mother had just ruined it.
“Well, let’s see what we can do about that.” He turned to Merwyn, held up his wand, and said, “With your permission, sir?” Merwyn hesitated only a moment before nodding. Dumbledore was known to be a quirky old coot, but he wasn’t dangerous – at least, not to him, he thought.
Dumbledore passed his wand over Merwyn’s head and chest. Little blue, gold, and green symbols drifted gently from the wand. Egeria looked on with interest.
“That looks like a variant of the Magical-Reserve Diagnostic, but I don’t recognize the symbols,” she said.
“Yes, indeed, it is similar,” replied Albus, adding no further clarification. He then turned to Minerva, raised an eyebrow in question, and she nodded quickly. He then repeated the procedure with her. “Hmm, yes,” he mumbled, gazing at the symbols, which were completely cryptic to the others, even to Egeria with her medical training, and to Merwyn with his knowledge of ancient runes. “Yes, I do believe we can compensate for the variance.” His words were as incomprehensible to Minerva as the symbols had been.
Albus picked the blue carpet bag up again and motioned for Minerva to draw closer. “You’ll need to stand a bit nearer than usual, Miss McGonagall, for this to work.”
She hesitated only slightly, thinking of the last time she had Side-Along-Apparated with someone other than her father or brother. She really didn’t want to be sick all over Professor Dumbledore’s beautiful robes.
“Come now, a bit closer. Mm-hm, that’s right. Now, with your permission, I will place my right arm around your shoulders. Good girl. Now, if you would like to help?” Dumbledore looked down at his protege’s upturned face.
“Yes, sir. But I don’t know how to Apparate, even if I were of age.”
“No worries. I would like you to do two things. First, you may place your head against my chest and listen for my heartbeat. Second, envision, as clearly as you can, the front gates of Hogwarts, as though you were standing and facing them from the outside. After you have found my pulse and have the gates firmly fixed in your mind, just nod.”
Minerva did not hesitate to follow her professor’s latest instructions. She stepped in closer to him, closed her eyes, and lay her head on his chest. She listened for his heartbeat, and she could almost imagine that she could feel the thrum of his magical core behind it. That accomplished, she envisioned the front gates in detail, the exercises she had been performing over the summer making it easy for her to create a crystal clear picture in her mind. She nodded against his chest. It seemed that as soon as she had nodded, he was speaking to her.
“Well done, Minerva! I hope you have not fallen asleep!” Albus chuckled at her expression when she lifted her head from his chest and saw that they were at the front gates of the castle. He dropped his arm from her shoulders, and she stepped away.
“But I didn’t feel anything but you!” Minerva exclaimed in wonderment. She had never in her life felt such a smooth Side-Along-Apparition. “I didn’t even hear a crack!”
Albus chuckled. “Oh, I only make a bit of noise so that people aren’t disconcerted by my silent arrival or departure. I must apologise to your parents next I see them. I ought to have given them some warning before popping off with their daughter.”
“Oh, I’m sure they won’t mind,” Minerva said, reaching to take her carpet bag from her professor. “Dad, of course, will want to know how you do it and read everything he can find about silent Apparition, and Mother might be concerned that it’s not healthy, but I’m sure they won’t mind otherwise.”
Albus took his wand from a pocket and waved it at the gates, which opened to them. He would not relinquish Minerva’s bag to her, though, saying, “What sort of gentleman would I be, to make a lady carry her own bags?”
Minerva giggled a bit, but then expressed her concern about what other people might think of her if they saw.
“Minerva, you would do well not to be overly concerned with the opinions of others. Although if we are considering them, I do believe that if you were to carry your own bag, they would think, ‘ah, poor Dumbledore, finally admitting he’s old and decrepit and letting that sweet young lady carry her own bags,’” he teased.
Minerva laughed. She didn’t think she ever laughed as much as she did when she was with Professor Dumbledore, whatever the seriousness of the subject at hand. She was very glad to be back with him at Hogwarts.
“I truly doubt that anyone would think you decrepit, sir. You have more energy than the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, although I suppose that’s not saying much after their performance last year. No, they’re probably looking on, thinking, ‘ah, there’s that snooty McGonagall girl, thinks she’s so high-and-mighty she even gets her teacher to carry her bag for her.’” Minerva smiled when she said this, but there was a slight bitter edge to her words.
“I don’t believe that anyone who knows you could possibly believe that you are snooty or conceited, Minerva. You do not allow many people the privilege of getting to know you, however, and that is to their loss,” Albus replied.
Minerva said nothing in response, but cast a disbelieving look in her professor’s direction. They were nearing the great front entrance to the castle, though, so she said, “Well, sir, be that as it may, you will need to give me my bags soon since I will need to bring them to my room. Could you unshrink them first, though?”
They walked into the cool Entrance Hall. “Of course I could, Miss McGonagall, but I was unaware you had left your wand at home. Perhaps we should return and fetch it,” he suggested with a twinkle.
“Of course I have my wand, Professor! I just wasn’t sure I’d be allowed to use it.”
“Yes, those pesky Restrictions. Do not worry about them while you are here, Minerva. They are not in effect on Hogwarts’ grounds. Besides, you are in my care for the next few days; you are my responsibility, and as a teacher at Hogwarts, I am qualified to supervise an underage witch’s or wizard’s wand use regardless of location or time of year.”
Minerva grinned. She didn’t mind being in his care for a few days. Somehow it didn’t seem as demeaning as being in the care of some other person. She pulled her wand from her pocket and, with a quickly uttered spell, restored the trunk and carpet bag that Albus had placed on the floor in front of her. Then she flicked her wand and nonverbally levitated both carpet bags and the trunk.
“Well done, Miss McGonagall! Well done, indeed. You must continue to practice your nonverbal spells this year. Begin, as I have said, with the manipulating charms, as they are the easiest to perform nonverbally. Then we will see what others you may wish to master.”
Her professor’s words warm in her heart, Minerva began up the stairs, her luggage bobbing along after her. Albus walked with her to the first floor, then bade her a good morning, asking that she come find him in his office when she had settled. Minerva was just about to run up the second flight of stairs when she turned to him.
“Oh, Professor, the password to the dormitory, what is it?”
“Spero et expecto, my dear. Just until the first of September, of course.”
Minerva smiled and fairly sprinted up the next few flights of stairs, which were co-operating with her for a change, and swinging into place before she reached them. By the time she’d reached the fifth floor, however, she was somewhat winded, despite her long, vigorous walks along the cliffs that summer, and she slowed to a more leisurely pace. As she continued her walk up to Gryffindor Tower, she considered her morning thus far, and shook her head in amazement. She would never cease to be in awe of Dumbledore’s magical prowess, she thought. While she was aware that, in theory, silent Apparition was possible, she had never heard of anyone who could actually do it. On top of that, he had Apparated her so smoothly, she hadn’t even noticed their arrival. It was as though she had been enveloped in a cocoon of warm Dumbledore-ness, was the only way she could think to describe it.
Of course, she wouldn’t be describing it for anyone. If her parents asked, she would simply tell them that she hadn’t become sick or dizzy. She blushed thinking of the way she had leaned her head against his chest. Minerva was somewhat reserved with her expressions of physical affection. She thought she took after her mother that way. Not that she didn’t hug her mother or father, of course, and Murdoch had been carrying her about and playing with her since she was a baby, so it felt quite natural to run into his arms whenever she saw him. And there was little Melina. Who could resist hugging and cuddling such a sweet, curly-haired, pink-cheeked child? But Minerva was used to the stiff, half-embraces of her aunts and uncles or the quick, one-armed squeezes that Malcolm and Morgan would give her occasionally. She always almost had to force herself to hug her friends good-bye at the end of the year, knowing it was expected of her and that they would be hurt if she didn’t. Yes, overall, Minerva was what she considered “selective” about whom she embraced and under what circumstances.
She reached Gryffindor Tower and smiled happily at the Fat Lady, who was fanning herself with a bored expression on her face.
“There you are, finally. Professor Dumbledore said to be expecting you. I do hope you won’t be expecting my services at all hours. There are only a few days left before the students return, and I do like to get in as much visiting as possible before that.”
“I shall try not to be a bother, ma’am,” replied Minerva politely. She felt it more than slightly ridiculous to have to be polite to a bit of enchanted oil and canvas, but she had seen the consequences suffered by other students who had insulted the Tower portrait.
“Password?” prompted the portrait.
“Spero et expecto,” Minerva responded.
After making the final climb up to the dormitory room she normally shared with four other girls, Minerva began unpacking her bags, setting aside the carefully wrapped book for Professor Dumbledore. She thought again of their brief trip and blushed. She wasn’t sure what she was blushing about. It hadn’t really been an embrace, after all. Professor Dumbledore had put his arm around her and she had leaned against him simply so that he could ease the Apparition for her. She hadn’t even hesitated at the time, nor looked at her mother or father. Minerva felt her face grow even warmer at the thought of her parents looking on as she had put her head on his chest, closed her eyes, and listened for his heartbeat.
Minerva began to shove her clothes into the wardrobe with a little more energy than strictly necessary. She would have to learn some good packing and unpacking charms, she thought. Her mother and father rarely used any since Fwisky or one of the other house-elves usually took care of it for them.
She moved her trunk to the foot of her bed, shrunk the carpet bags and placed them in the bottom, then, with a quick wave of her wand, levitated her books to the shelves beside her wardrobe. She would worry about putting them in order after her meeting with Professor Dumbledore, she thought. Her stomach growled, and she wondered about meals and whether she would have to eat alone in the Gryffindor common room or something. That thought was unsettling.
Making a quick trip to the bathroom to use the loo and run a brush through her hair before returning it to its ponytail, she considered whether she should wear her school robes. She decided against it and, examining the pale blue robes she had put on that morning, thought that what she was wearing would be fine. She hadn’t seen anyone else in the castle yet, and who knew when she would see anyone other than her professor. She did want to appear presentable for him, however.
Minerva fairly flew down the stairs, worried that she had taken too much time unpacking. When she arrived at the Transfiguration classroom, the door was open. As she walked in, she could hear Professor Dumbledore speaking with someone else, Headmaster Dippet, from the sound of it.
“ . . . Armando, very pleased, indeed. You will see.”
“I hope so, Albus. This is a sticky problem, and I trust you to resolve it to the best of your ability, of course. I still don’t quite understand the – ”
Dumbledore interrupted the Headmaster. “Miss McGonagall, please, come in. We have been awaiting your arrival.”
Minerva took the last few steps toward the office. “I hope I haven’t interrupted anything important, sir. I can come back.”
“No, no, not at all. We were just discussing your project. Headmaster Dippet, I am sure you are acquainted with Miss Minerva McGonagall.”
“Yes, yes, indeed,” said the Headmaster warmly, although accompanying it with a rather limp, moist handshake. “We were all most pleased with your OWLs results. Most pleased.” Headmaster Dippet looked Minerva up and down. Minerva wondered whether she should have changed into school robes, after all. “He tells me that you are to be trusted. That you are – how did you put it, Albus? – the soul of discretion. I do hope we can rely upon that discretion, Miss McGonagall.”
“Er, yes, sir, I shall always do my best,” she replied, somewhat confused about the role her discretion was to play in her Animagus training. “I won’t let you and Professor Dumbledore down, sir.”
Headmaster Dippet smiled and patted her shoulder. “Yes, I believe you will do well.” He turned to Dumbledore. “Well, Albus, I shall leave you to it. I am placing the entire matter in your hands. You may deal with it as you see fit, as always.” Smiling avuncularly at them both, he took his leave.
After Dippet had gone, Albus waved a hand, closing the classroom door. “Well, my dear, let’s go over some of your reading first, then I believe it will be time for lunch. Apparition always works up a good appetite.”
Author’s Note: I apologize for the truly terrible title for this chapter, but I just couldn’t resist!