Professor Gamp's Suggestion
Professor Gamp looked up when Minerva entered Gryffindor Tower, but remained seated. Minerva hesitated, then greeted her Arithmancy teacher. “Good-evening, Professor Gamp.”
“Miss McGonagall.” Professor Gamp nodded at her.
Minerva began to cross to the stairs leading to the girls’ dormitory.
“Miss McGonagall, a word, please.”
Minerva turned toward Professor Gamp.
“I do not particularly wish to shout across the room at you, Miss McGonagall.”
Minerva walked over to the Slytherin teacher. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Have a seat.”
Minerva sat down on the edge of the chair across from Professor Gamp.
Professor Gamp removed her feet from the ottoman, put Arithmancy Today down on the table beside her, tossed her apple core into the fireplace, and then just looked at Minerva for a moment.
“I am sure I do not need to tell you that what you did was foolish and dangerous.”
“No, Professor, I understand that,” Minerva said, looking at the severe teacher.
“Do I also need to tell you that Professor Dumbledore has many worries, many responsibilities, and many, many demands on his time?”
“No, ma’am,” Minerva answered quietly.
“Then perhaps you might spend the rest of the evening examining precisely why you engaged in behaviour that would increase the already significant burdens on him. You are not a child, Miss McGonagall. You have taken on an adult’s responsibilities, and you have carried yourself well, for the most part. Needless to say, your behaviour today showed none of the intelligence and maturity you normally display, not to mention that it exhibited a profound disregard for Professor Dumbledore’s well-being. I never would have expected that of you, Miss McGonagall.”
Minerva did not know how to respond. She was uncomfortable under Professor Gamp’s scrutiny, and yet she could not argue with any of the witch’s statements.
“I know, Professor. I am sorry.”
“Hmmpf. ‘Sorry.’ That’s fine, but what will you do to make reparations? And will you engage in such behaviour again the next time the mood strikes you?” Minerva opened her mouth to respond, but Professor Gamp cut her off. “Those were questions for you to think about, not questions requiring perfunctory, off-the-cuff responses, Miss McGonagall. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I think so, Professor.” Minerva was surprised that Professor Gamp was taking the time to speak to her, and in such a manner. She and Professor Gamp had, of course, spoken outside of class before, but, aside from mundane pleasantries, their conversations had never touched anything outside of Minerva’s Arithmancy homework. Minerva had the impression that Professor Gamp was concerned not only about Minerva’s breaking the rules, but also about Professor Dumbledore and about Minerva herself.
“Your fellow Gryffindors apparently found the presence of a . . . teacher in their common room somewhat inhibiting, and they have retired to their dormitories for the night. I suggest you do the same, Miss McGonagall.”
“Yes, ma’am. And thank you.”
“Good-night, then, Miss McGonagall.”
“Good-night, Professor Gamp.” Minerva rose and walked quickly to the stairs and started up them as fast as she could without appearing to be rude. When she reached her room at the top of the tower, her roommates were not there. Probably gathered in one of the other girls’ rooms, for gossip or for comfort. No doubt they had all noticed that she was missing, and no doubt, as well, they found it odd that Professor Dumbledore had Professor Gamp oversee their dinner in the Tower.
She threw herself on her bed and kicked off her shoes. Rolling over onto her stomach, Minerva closed her eyes and tried not to think. Then, letting out a deep sigh, she remembered Professor Gamp’s questions. As much as she might resent Professor Gamp’s presumption in lecturing her after she had already been thoroughly scolded by Professor Dumbledore, she had to admit that the Arithmancy teacher had made several good points. And, if Minerva was honest with herself, she recognised that Professor Gamp had actually treated her more like an adult than she might have, given the circumstances. She had presumed that Minerva had already recognised the idiocy of her earlier actions, for one thing.
Minerva supposed that the least she could do was to take seriously Professor Gamp’s advice to think about what she’d done, why she’d done it, and how she could prevent it from happening again. And, of course, how to make amends for it. Minerva presumed that Professor Gamp meant that she should make “reparations” to Professor Dumbledore, but she hadn’t a clue of how to go about it. As to not repeating her behaviour, there was little chance of that. And she certainly would think twice before doing anything even slightly rash in the future. As to why she had done it . . . she had thought that she had wanted Professor Dumbledore’s reassurance that all would be well, but it wasn’t merely that which had driven her from the dormitory that evening. She had, after all, been trying to avoid spending too much time with him unless the two of them were working on her Animagus training. To have sought reassurance from him was only a small part of the reason she had sought him out that evening. There was something else, something niggling at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t quite lay her finger on it. Perhaps after a good night’s sleep, she would be able to figure out what was bothering her, Minerva decided. As to reparations . . . that could be a long-term plan, provided, of course, that Hogwarts remained open. OWLs and NEWTs were supposed to be taking place. Would they even continue to hold exams under these circumstances?
Minerva changed into her nightgown and opened the window to let in some fresh air. As she did so, she remembered how Dumbledore had asked whether he should place wards on the windows, as well as on the door. He had been so disappointed in her. And not just because she’d broken the rules, or because she had placed herself in danger, but also because she did not recognise how much he valued her life.
Minerva sighed and sat down on her bed. She could not afford to acknowledge that she might be at all important to Professor Dumbledore. If she did that, she would no doubt begin to exaggerate her importance in his life, and then who knew where such thoughts would lead, but it could certainly only bring her more heartache. Still, it was nice that he had made it clear that he cared about her, cared for her, even in the midst of his anger with her. Perhaps she could allow herself to recognise that he cared for her as . . . as an exceptional student of Transfiguration, and perhaps also like a niece or something. As long as she didn’t develop any delusions that he could care for her in any other way, perhaps she could allow herself to appreciate the affection that he actually did have for her.
Minerva fell into a fitful sleep, waking only briefly when her roommates returned at about midnight. She dreamed of the girls’ bathroom in which Myrtle was killed, dreaming that she was on Prefect Patrol, feeling that there was someone watching her, someone nearby, but there was only a drippy tap; then there was water steadily flowing across the floor, and she saw Myrtle lying in the water, cold and still, unseeing eyes fixed on the sink with the drippy tap, the tap that was flooding the bathroom. Minerva tried to turn off the tap, but no matter what she did, the water would not stop dripping, and she could feel someone watching her. Minerva awoke with a start. The drippy tap. Probably nothing, but Minerva could not shake her sense of unease that there was something about it that was not normal.
After tossing and turning, listening to her roommates’ breathing, Minerva finally got up, slipped her feet into her slippers, grabbed her dressing gown from its hook next to her wardrobe, and walked down the stairs to the common room. At almost three o’clock in the morning, Professor Gamp was, of course, no longer there. Nervous in the empty common room after all that had happened over the last few weeks, Minerva spelled all the candles alight and sat on the couch. This was stupid; it was probably nothing. But Professor Gamp had told her to think about why she had felt it necessary to seek out Professor Dumbledore in such a foolhardy manner, and Minerva thought it was because, somewhere in the back of her mind, there was something about that girls’ bathroom that bothered her. She hadn’t been aware of it when she’d gone haring out of Gryffindor Tower, but she was aware of it now.
Sighing at the thought of disturbing her professor when he surely needed his rest, Minerva finally called for Wilspy. The house-elf appeared immediately, wrapped in a terry-cloth towel with another smaller one wrapped around her head like a scarf. Minerva wondered if the elf slept like that, but didn’t spare it much thought.
“Wilspy, I hate to disturb Professor Dumbledore, but there’s something I’ve remembered, and I need to tell him. Could you see if I can see him, please?”
“Yes, Miss Minerva, I will go now and ask him.” Wilspy immediately Disapparated.
Minerva waited anxiously. She wondered if she should have dressed before calling Wilspy, and she pulled her dressing gown more closely around her, tying the sash in a firm bow. Less than ten minutes later, the portrait hole opened and Professor Dumbledore ducked through it. He was wearing the same dark blue robes she had seen him in several hours ago. It didn’t look as though he had had any rest that night. Minerva felt even guiltier about her stunt the previous evening.
“You wished to see me, Miss McGonagall?” Professor Dumbledore asked as he crossed the room toward her.
Minerva stood. “Yes, it’s probably nothing, Professor, but I think I remembered something. I was dreaming, and I –”
“Not here,” he replied, looking about the room. “Come.”
He led her out of the common room, warding the door behind them, then down the broad corridor to a narrow hall, where they went down a short flight of stairs where they took a sharp right turn, walked a few more yards and went up a seemingly identical set of stairs to a narrow hallway. Minerva had no idea where they were until she recognised the hallway from the prior August when she had stayed in Professor Dumbledore’s guest room.
Dumbledore traced a pattern in the air in front of a portrait of a rather bellicose-looking woman, leaving streams of gold trailing from the end of his wand. He then uttered a password, “Featherlight-Fudge,” and the door opened. After they entered his sitting room, he turned and traced similar patterns in the air in front of the door, this time leaving traces of brilliant blue and red.
“A few precautions were necessary,” he said as he turned back to Minerva. “Please have a seat. What did you remember?”
Minerva sat in a flowered overstuffed armchair and told him about her dream. “And that made me remember the drippy tap. Ever since, I don’t know, late November or early December, I’d often get a peculiar feeling when I patrolled the second floor. I had caught Riddle out after curfew several times, and at least three times that I remember, he was on the second floor. So when I had that odd feeling, I thought that he might be somewhere, trying to avoid me, but I never found him or anyone else. I remember the first time this happened, I had thought I’d heard something, and all I found was a drippy tap in the girls’ bathroom. A few other times when I patrolled the second floor, the tap would be dripping.”
Minerva looked at Professor Dumbledore to see if she could tell whether he thought she was being ridiculous, but he was just listening to her, apparently taking her seriously. “But the thing is, Professor, I’ve used that bathroom during the day, and the tap isn’t dripping. And it’s always the same tap. Just before I found Jeremy, I had found the tap dripping again and had turned it off. It’s the same bathroom where Myrtle was found. I don’t know why, but it bothered me and I thought you should know. It probably doesn’t mean anything,” she finished lamely.
“I think it probably is meaningful, Minerva, although its significance isn’t apparent at the moment. Thank you for telling me.” He paused and gazed at her. “Is that why you were coming to see me earlier?”
Minerva wished she could have told him that it had been, but she shook her head. “No. There was something bothering me, but I didn’t know what it was. Something in the back of my mind . . . I just couldn’t figure it out. And then Professor Gamp said . . . .” Minerva didn’t really want to repeat to Professor Dumbledore what her Arithmancy teacher had told her. But Dumbledore’s eyebrows raised questioningly.
“Yes? What did she say to you?”
“Well, she suggested,” Minerva hesitated briefly, then continued, “she suggested that I think about what had caused me to behave as I had.”
“A wise witch, wouldn’t you say, Minerva?” Her professor spoke over steepled hands. He made no further comment about what Professor Gamp had said, nor about the possible significance of the drippy tap. “I had hoped to get some rest tonight,” he said with a sigh.
Minerva could see now the dark circles under his eyes, and he seemed to have aged a decade in the last few weeks. “I think you should, sir. I don’t know that anything can be done to investigate that bathroom right now, anyway. And it was always sometime between ten o’clock and midnight that I would find the tap dripping. All of the attacks took place during the day or evening hours. Maybe you should wait until tomorrow; besides, you should probably have someone with you. Everyone who was attacked was alone at the time – except for the attacker, of course. You shouldn’t investigate it on your own. Remember what you said to me about one’s importance in the lives of others – don’t take any unnecessary risks, yourself, sir.”
Minerva felt hypocritical, and even slightly foolish, asking her professor, with all of his years of experience, not to take unnecessary risks, when she, a mere witch of seventeen, had taken a truly unnecessary risk for no particularly good reason just a few hours before.
Professor Dumbledore smiled slightly, though, and said, “You are correct, Miss McGonagall. But we do need to return you to Gryffindor Tower before I can retire for the night – or what’s left of it.”
“Sir? It may not be a good idea, but if you’d like, I could stay next door. It’s after three-thirty already. By the time you get back, it will be at least four o’clock.”
He sighed. “Probably not the wisest idea, actually, but . . . . Wilspy!”
Wilspy appeared, this time in her usual tea-towel attire. “Yes, sir?”
“Are there clean linens on the bed in the guest room?”
“Yes, sir. They’s fresh and clean.”
“Very well. Miss McGonagall will be spending the remainder of the night there. Could you go to her dormitory and fetch her a change of clothes, please?”
After Wilspy left, Minerva said, “That wasn’t really necessary, sir.”
“I think it would be highly inappropriate for you to wander about the corridors tomorrow morning dressed as you are now. When I escort you back to Gryffindor in the morning, I would prefer not to give the impression that you arrived in the middle of the night, as you did, and then remained here. It is most . . . irregular.”
“Of course.” Minerva felt her face grow hot. Of course: some people might draw the wrong conclusions if she left his chambers in the morning dressed in nothing but a nightgown, bathrobe, and slippers. And now that her own feelings toward him had changed since the last time she had spent the night in his guest room, she could see that it was not such a far-fetched idea – except, of course, for the fact that Professor Dumbledore would never entertain an improper relationship with a student. Nonetheless, given the amount of time that people knew the two spent together, she could see how they might speculate about the propriety of her professor’s interactions with her. She doubted very much that anyone had engaged in such speculation yet – except a toe-rag like Riddle – but in a small community such as that at Hogwarts, it wouldn’t take very much to start up a rumour about a Transfiguration teacher and his pet student spending a night together in his rooms.
Still, she had suggested it, and it was getting later. He needed all the sleep he could get, Minerva reasoned. “I know where everything is, Professor; I’ll be fine. Thank you.” She rose. “Good-night, Professor.”
“Good-night, Minerva. Wilspy will wake you.”
Minerva went into the little room in which she had stayed that one night the previous summer. It looked quite a bit different. There were two large bookcases on either side of the bed, standing in front of the windows, and a few shelves filled with neat stacks of parchment were against the wall next to the small, empty desk. Dumbledore must have had Wilspy move all of those things into the sitting room when she had stayed there before. She realised only then that the windows of Dumbledore’s sitting room had been unobstructed this morning, but for the heavy burgundy-coloured curtains that were closed over them.
Minerva pulled back the covers and lay down on the bed, sure she wouldn’t sleep, only to awaken to Wilspy’s voice calling to her.
“Miss Minerva! Miss Minerva, time to get up. Robes are on the dresser. Must get up now!”
Minerva was exhausted, but she stumbled out of bed and into the little bathroom, snagging her robes on her way in. Wilspy had brought her a plain grey dress, her student uniform robe, and shoes and stockings. No knickers. Oh, well. She wasn’t wearing any at the moment, either, since she never did when wearing a nightgown. She splashed her face with cold water, rinsed her mouth, and used her wand to smooth her hair down. Wilspy popped into the bathroom just as she was finishing, startling her.
“Wilspy will take your nightwear. Please leave nightwear on the floor. All of it. Slippers, too.”
Even though Wilspy would not be freed if Minerva handed her clothing, as Minerva had no authority over the house-elf, she was naturally averse to taking any clothing directly from Minerva’s own hand. “Of course, Wilspy. Thank you.”
Minerva went to the sitting room to find her professor waiting for her. He was dressed in dove grey robes with dusky purple trim, and he appeared slightly better rested than he had a few hours before.
“We have time for a cup of tea before we leave, Minerva. The Houses are having breakfast in their common rooms. Exams have been cancelled for the day, and everyone is confined to the dormitories this morning. Lunch will be held in the Great Hall, however, and certain announcements will be made at that time. I suggest you wait in the common room for your fellow students to join you. With luck, there will be no one up yet when you arrive. Best to avoid awkward questions. Although, if you are asked, do not lie about anything. You may omit mention of whatever you wish to, of course.” He smiled slightly.
Minerva poured their tea, which they drank in silence. After they had finished, Dumbledore lifted the wards he had cast the night before, then warded the portrait behind them again when they left. As they walked down the narrow hallway toward the seventh floor corridor, they could hear something that sounded like someone coming up the main staircase to the seventh floor. Her professor did not hesitate, however, so neither did Minerva. As they walked down the hallway toward the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, Professor Dustern came toward them.
“I was just coming to find you, Professor Dumbledore.” She looked at Minerva when she said this. “I had some questions about breakfast in the common rooms and what will be expected of the Heads of House today.”
“I will meet you in your office in a few minutes, Professor,” he replied to the Charms teacher. “I had a meeting with Miss McGonagall, who, as you are no doubt aware, was the one who found Jeremy Flanders, also on the second floor where Miss MacNair met her fate.”
Professor Dustern’s expression did not change, revealing nothing of her thoughts. “I will see you in a few minutes, then, Professor.” She turned back and started down the stairs toward her third floor office. Minerva and her professor continued to the Fat Lady’s portrait.
“I hope I didn’t cause you any problems, Professor.”
“No, Minerva, you did not. I chose to respond when you called Wilspy this morning. I could have sent her back with a message and met with you later today. The information you have given me . . . I do not understand its meaning at the moment, but I do believe that it is important, and that, with time, its importance will become clearer. I may need to speak with you again this afternoon after lunch. It might be wise to question all of the prefects about what they have seen and heard over the last several months.”
“Don’t bother with Riddle, though, sir. He would lie just for the sake of lying and getting away with it, I think. Besides, he’s the one I caught out after curfew.”
“But not recently?”
“No, not recently,” Minerva admitted.
“Well, my dear, I will see you at eight o’clock. Please let the other prefects know that I will be arriving for breakfast at that time, hmm?”
Minerva gave the password to the Fat Lady as her professor waited behind her to replace the alarm ward on the door. Fortunately, there was no one in the common room, and Minerva found a book and settled down on the couch to read until seven o’clock, which she judged was late enough to go around to the other prefects and tell them about breakfast. If they asked, she would just say that she hadn’t been able to sleep and had been in the common room when Professor Dumbledore came by. She just wouldn’t mention that that had been at three o’clock in the morning.