Resolving a Misunderstanding

When Minerva came downstairs, Quin was waiting for her, leaning nonchalantly against the newel post. He offered her his arm, which she took lightly, and led her through the house, taking a different route than she’d taken with Brue that morning.

“Where are we going?” Minerva asked.

“To the gardens, as I promised. I thought you might wish to avoid the gathering in the conservatory. Valerianna has apparently revived Franky sufficiently to rejoin polite society, and they are in there with a few others – with whom they are in good company.”

Minerva raised an eyebrow at the thought of what such “good company” might be, but said nothing about it. Quin led her down some back stairs to an exit that opened at the base of the stairs leading from the veranda. As they walked down the path to the gardens, Minerva wondered if they were being observed from the house, and fought to keep from picking up the pace. She was grateful when they stepped into the garden proper and behind some hedges. From the right angle, they were probably still visible from the house, but Minerva did not feel so exposed.

Quin walked along, pointing out plants and designs, making up ridiculous stories when he didn’t know something. Minerva was still impressed by what he obviously did know, however, and finally asked him how he had come by his knowledge of plants and gardening, thinking he wasn’t knowledgeable enough to be an Herbologist, yet he knew far more than the average lay-wizard.

“Aileen, me wife, was both a Botanist and an Herbologist. She was a mistress of Herbology and also held a Ph.D. in Botany.”

“Was she Muggle-born?” asked Minerva, puzzled, forgetting for the moment that he had married a Gamp.

“Not Muggle-born, merely brilliant,” he said with a wistful smile.

Sensing that she was straying into personal areas best left unexplored, Minerva changed the topic. “And what do you do, Quin, when you aren’t being irritating or insulting your relatives and their guests?”

“You think there might be a moment when I am not irritating or insulting, then? I must be losing me touch,” he said as he led her to a bench. “I am an entrepreneur, I suppose one could say. I own and invest in a number of wizarding businesses using funds that I derive from me Muggle businesses and investments. Wizards like Franky don’t like it much, but without people like me, the wizarding world would collapse around itself, and for quite simple economic reasons.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“The census of the wizarding population has been in steady decline over the last four hundred years. In the last one hundred years, the drop has been precipitous; the war with Grindelwald only made things far worse. Think about it, Minerva. Do you really believe that the wizarding world could survive – let alone thrive – economically with such a small population?

“Wizards do have it somewhat easier than Muggles, of course. Take this house. It has been here, in one form or another, for a several hundred years. Different generations of wizards leave their mark on it, and the current structure would be unrecognisable to the Gamp who built the original house, but wizards are able to do this using their own magic and a bit of house-elf magic. It takes energy, but magical energy, and if a family is particularly blessed, they are able to accomplish any changes, or additions, or what have you, without hiring anyone. They can just draw on their own magic. For a Muggle, on the other hand, it requires several teams of specialised labourers to build a house of any size. In the wizarding world, that is unnecessary. It does help to hire a wizarding architect, of course, so the whole thing isn’t in danger of falling down around you if you leave it alone for ten minutes, and I doubt that the Gamp family has personally done any reconstruction or renovation in a few generations, but it is possible to build an entire house just using your own magic and the available raw materials. You see that this house is granite, for example. The granite is all local – or relatively so. The quarry and use of stone may be regulated and taxed in the Muggle world, but the wizarding world is so caught up in regulating magic, wizards can just take and use what they wish, as long as it doesn’t come to the attention of the Muggles.

“And look at the resources that the wizarding world believes are necessities: wizarding publishers, wizarding booksellers, apothecaries, sweets shops and confectioners, wizarding tailors – look at the whole wizarding couture! There is no practical reason for it, as one could possibly make an argument in favour of in the case of such things as books or potions. These robes we affect . . . it is simply another way of setting ourselves apart from the rest of the world. And do you really think that our small population could really support such extravagances?”

“I don’t really know. I had wondered, but I assumed that . . . somehow it worked. Maybe by magic.”

Quin laughed. “I really don’t mean to laugh at you, Minerva, but magic cannot do everything. I am sorry. I am sure I am boring you to tears. You will soon think I’m as boring as the others are obnoxious.”

“No, it’s quite an interesting way to look at things, actually. I’ve always wondered about Hogwarts. I know there used to be more students. I think even in Albus’s day, the classes were larger and there were more teachers on staff.”

“Ah, the great Albus Dumbledore. I wondered when I’d be first hearin’ his name uttered while I was here.”

Minerva looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

“Just that folk seem to love him or hate him . . . or sometimes it may be more complex.” He looked at Minerva, who was still looking at him with suspicion. “From your expression, I take it you’re in Gertie’s camp.” When she looked at him quizzically, he explained, “That’s the ‘Albus-Dumbledore-can-do-no-wrong-do-not-let-me-even-hear-about-it-if-you-don’t-agree’ camp.”

Minerva bristled. “You shouldn’t make light of such things, Mr MacAirt. I happen to know that the Headmaster values Gertrude quite highly, and if she repays him with loyalty and respect, I do not think it is a joking matter!” She could scarcely believe she was defending Gertrude – but it was for Albus’s sake, after all.

“I may sound as if I am joking, Minerva, but I am not. Believe me when I say that I would not be sitting here with you if I thought you differed with Gertrude on this or any other essential matter. And I doubt that Gertrude would have suggested this stroll if she was not after believin’ you to be unlike the Yaxley-Flint-Black crowd. I hold nothing against anyone who is a Dumbledore loyalist, and Gertrude is certainly the very last person whom anyone could attempt to dissuade from her faith in Albus Dumbledore. Or perhaps it isn’t faith . . . she simply knows him and that is enough.”

Minerva was quiet for a moment. There were so many questions in her mind, she didn’t know which one to ask first. “I think you were going to tell me something about Gertrude’s brother.”

“I can tell you a little about him. I never knew him. He was a volunteer in the fight against Grindelwald. He went on unsanctioned missions – officially unsanctioned, that is. The Ministry always knew about them – some of their own Aurors participated in them. Me understanding is that Dumbledore was a kind of liaison between these irregulars and the official Ministry forces. He helped make sure that the Ministry didn’t interfere with these unofficial activities in any way that would cost lives and that the civilians didn’t accidentally end up in the middle of some official raid. Anyway, one night, Aileen’s father went on a raid with some Aurors and a few other ‘volunteers,’ and he never came back. . . . He was captured and brutally tortured by Grindelwald before he died.”

Minerva was shaken. “When was this?”

“Nineteen forty-one. Just before the New Year.”

“But Gertrude was teaching at Hogwarts then.”

“She was.”

“She never said anything. She never took any time off.”

“Can you see Gertrude barin’ her soul to the entire population of Hogwarts?”

“No, no, I suppose not.” And that had been such a difficult year for her, Minerva didn’t know if she would have noticed anything, anyway. It would have been shortly after her own accident in the Transfiguration classroom. And then later, there had been the attacks and Hagrid had been expelled. It wasn’t as though Gertrude could have afforded the time to grieve.

“Well, this has certainly been a cheerful conversation. I am beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t have joined the others in the conservatory and risked having Franky or his protectress hex me,” Quin said, stretching.

“I’m sorry, Quin.”

Quin put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. “Don’t be. It’s all just life, you know?”

Minerva thought she should be uncomfortable with Quin’s arm around her, but it was such a casual gesture of comfort, she didn’t feel she could reject it. Of course, if his hand started to roam, that would be quite a different story. They sat in companionable silence for a while, enjoying the sun and watching the butterflies and bees flitting amongst the flowers.

“I have been somewhat disingenuous with you, Minerva McGonagall, and I wish to set something straight.”

Minerva turned her head and looked up at him curiously.

“It’s already knowin’ who you were, it was, when I saw you this morning. An’ not just because Gertrude had told me you were coming, but because I had seen you before and had never forgotten you.”

Minerva drew away from him slightly, wondering if Quin was about to declare some bizarre unrequited passion for her – although who was she to talk about bizarre unrequited passions? – when he looked back down at her and smiled. “It’s probably not what you are thinking, whatever it is that is giving you that pinched look, Minerva. No, I remember you, but it is entirely unsurprising that you would have no memory of me. The first occasion on which I saw you, neither of us was the centre of attention, nor would we have wanted to be, and on the second occasion, you were the centre of attention, and quite rightly so.”

“Whatever are you talking about? You speak in riddles more than any other wizard I have ever known!”

“Ah, I believe I shall not risk being infuriating, then. The first occasion was that of me cousin Carson’s funeral. I’m rememberin’ you well because you looked so pale and apart from everyone, and also because of the way that . . . . well, never mind. We have spoken of enough sadness this afternoon, haven’t we? The second occasion, though, perhaps you can guess what it was?”

“I have no idea.”

“Where you were the centre of attention?” When she shook her head, he added, “Minerve, la grande dame de la Metamorphosis?”

“Oh, my . . . . you were there?”

“Indeed, I was. I was transactin’ some business in a small wizarding village near Lake Constance when I read of your upcoming Challenge. I couldn’t miss it. Especially as I had a wager ridin’ on the outcome,” he said with a grin.

Minerva punched his side lightly. “You didn’t bet on it!”

“I did, most certainly. I bet on the fair Scottish lass and was very pleased when me bets paid off at every stage. I probably owe you a dinner or two for that, I do!” He laughed at her outraged expression. “’Twas also one of the most amusing and remarkable displays of Transfigurative talent that ever I was after seein’ – actually, it was and has remained unsurpassed.”

“Hmmph.” Minerva could not argue with someone who said something like that.

“Besides, Aileen was recently dead, and I don’t think I smiled in months before I saw your Challenge.”

“Well, that’s all right, I suppose. So that’s why you wanted to take me for a walk, then – it had nothing to do with Gertie at all!”

“Untrue! If Gertie had not reassured me on certain points, I would have perhaps escorted you on a brief perambulation of the grounds and then returned you immediately to the loving care – or presence, at least – of the other guests.”

“Reassured you that I was not anti-Dumbledore, you mean? It seems unlikely she would have invited me here if that were the case – there are plenty of others present who already fill the bill.”

“Not that, no.” Quin looked out over the garden, lips parted as though he were about to speak.

“What was it then? That I would tolerate your foolishness, or that I had a sense of humour?”

“Well, those were, of course, prerequisites,” he said, smiling. “She reassured me that you would not be taken in by me and me blarney, she did.”

“Well, that would be hard!”

“Ah, and that I could flirt with a pretty girl to me heart’s content and not have to worry she’d take me too seriously.”

“What?!”

“You see, I knew you’d be offended. I don’t mean it the way it probably sounded to your sweet feminine ears, Minerva.”

Minerva had got up and walked over to the flower bed. She felt like simply walking off and leaving him there, but he hadn’t been bad company. And she had asked.

“I suppose you were right earlier,” she said.

“When? I am so often right,” he joked.

“When you said that people often ask questions that they really don’t want answered or that they think they already know the answer to.”

“Mmm. I still don’t believe I’ve answered your question properly, though. What I said just now probably made it sound as though I don’t value your company, and just the opposite is true. I have found, however, that despite me professed desire not to remarry or even to date, as long as the children are young, witches tend to find me charming – heaven only knows why! – and if I flirt just a bit, which is in me nature to do, they automatically begin to think they can change me mind and make me fall in love with them, marry them, and we will run off and have little kiddies together. Not all witches are like this, of course, but it’s rare to meet one who isn’t and yet who is also sensible, pretty, intelligent, and good company.”

“And there’s your flirting coming out. And you wonder why these women think they should pursue you?”

“Some of them seem to think that one good f – , er, roll in the hay, will ‘cure’ whatever ails me and I’ll see the light, so to speak, and follow them wherever they lead, they do. Take Valerianna, for example. If she’d been able to keep me alone in the same room with her for more than ten minutes, I’m sure she would have tried it on me. I’ve just known her too well for too long to fall for her act.”

Mention of Valerianna reminded Minerva of Albus. “So she is something of a . . . flirt herself?” The two began to walk down the path together, heading toward the hedge maze.

“Somethin’ of a flirt? I suppose that would be one way to put it. She is something of a chameleon, is she. She finds out what a man likes, what he enjoys, what his interests are, and she becomes the most fascinatin’ companion he could wish for. Or, in the case of Franky, she provides him with the balls he lacks – um, sorry.”

“I have heard the term before. So she just . . . flits?”

“Flits, flirts, hops, whatever. She does like to convince a man that he is her one and only, of course, until she finds a more promising candidate. Franky is her latest catch. I actually think she may decide to land this one. He will put up with her, she has enough ambition for both of them, he’s smart enough to get ahead – if it weren’t for a few . . . lapses in judgment, he would have been further up the career ladder than he is now. I think that Franky is just the malleable wizard she is looking for. Not that he’ll ever be Minister for Magic, but . . . .”

Minerva stiffened unconsciously when he mentioned “Minister for Magic.” “That sort of thing is important to her?” she asked.

“’Tis. Or it has become so. I have known her probably twenty years. She has become more ambitious and ruthless with time, she has. Although it wouldn’t show at first glance. You have to see the full pattern and panoply of behaviour to really get the full picture.”

Minerva wondered if Quin knew about Albus and that Person, but didn’t want to ask, just in case he didn’t know already. Although from what Gertie had said, it was common knowledge in the circles in which Valerianna moved.

“So, you and Carson were cousins,” she asked, changing the subject entirely.

“That we were. Two ways, actually. His mother’s mother was a MacAirt by birth, and she was me father’s cousin. I’m not entirely sure what kind of cousins that makes us, but Carson’s father was me grandmother’s younger brother.”

Minerva tried to work out the relationships in her mind, then gave up. “So you were Carson’s cousin,” she said, smiling.

“Right. Obviously, he was younger than I by more than a decade. His father, you may have noticed, was considerably older than his mother. I am sort o’ the generation in between Carson and Carson’s older siblings.”

Minerva remembered Carson saying something about his father having been married before and having adult children before he had married Carson’s mother.

“Did you know him well?”

“Not as well as I would have liked. . . . I had the impression . . . .” Quin hesitated.

“What?”

“Just that you knew him well, that’s all.”

“We were in the same year at Hogwarts and were both prefects. We saw a lot of each other in London before he died.”

“I see. Were you in the same House? Wait, that’s right, Gertrude said you were in the Gryffindor House. Carson was with Ravenclaw, is that right?”

“Yes.” Minerva looked at him peculiarly. Something he had said sounded odd . . . . “And what were you? Slytherin?”

“I wasn’t, although that is as likely as any, I’d say.” Grinning at Minerva’s puzzlement, he said, “I didn’t go to Hogwarts – and before you ask, I didn’t go to any school. Didn’t you catch what Franky called me?” Quin brushed his hand along the privet. “A ‘hedge wizard,’ as though I squatted in a ditch under a hedge somewhere and learned a bunch of nonsense from some old crone.”

“It sounds as though there is a story there – and I would love to hear more about Flint and why he seems to hate you so – ”

“No ‘seems to,’ he does hate me.”

“But as I was saying, I believe that bell means it’s dinner time. And we haven’t changed.”

“We haven’t changed our clothes a half dozen times yet today?! How scandalous!”

Minerva laughed, took his arm, and they walked back up to the house together, ready to face the vipers’ nest.