Resolving a Misunderstanding

Minerva woke the next morning to a gravelly voice saying, “Madam Professor. Madam Professor. It is morning, Madam Professor”; then sudden morning light entered the room as the draperies were drawn back. Minerva blinked and squinted at a purplish-grey house-elf who was standing a few feet from her bed.

“Madam Professor, breakfast will be served. Madam Professor is expected to breakfast with Madam Gamp.”

“Mmmpf,” groaned Minerva, rolling over and closing her eyes again.

The house-elf was undeterred and popped over to the other side of the bed. “Madam Professor will get up now for breakfast. Madam Gamp requested Gluffy wake Madam Professor. Madam Professor will get up now.”

Memory of the prior evening filtered back into Minerva’s sleepy brain. “Which ‘Madam Gamp,’ Gluffy?”

“Madam Gertrude, ma’am,” the house-elf said with a toothy grin. Gluffy, with his sparse, bristly hair emerging from his ears and chin, his raspy voice, and his persistent manner, had to be the most annoying house-elf Minerva had ever laid eyes on. At least he didn’t grovel and whine; she sighed.

“Very well, Gluffy. I would like a cup of tea first, though.”

Without another word, or even a bow, Gluffy Apparated away. Minerva closed her eyes and began to drift back to sleep when she heard a rapping on her door. Thinking it was Quin, Minerva snagged her dressing gown from the foot of her bed and was putting it on as she opened the door, prepared to scold him for coming around so early in the morning. When she saw the person on the other side, however, she stopped cold.

“Hmmpf. Must speak to Gluffy about his notions of ‘waking’ someone, I can see. Meet me on the veranda as soon as you are dressed, Minerva.” Gertrude turned and headed for the stairs.

Minerva closed the door. “Well, good-morning to you, too, Gertrude. So nice to see you; how was your sleep? Good, happy to hear it; I slept well, too, thank you very much,” Minerva grumbled to herself as she began sorting through her clothes to find something appropriate for the morning.

As she was pulling on her stockings, Gluffy appeared with a cup of black tea. He put it on the night stand and popped away again. Minerva disliked black tea with no milk, but thought she needed fortification before meeting Gertrude for breakfast. She sipped the hot liquid and cast a quick Tempus. Only six-thirty in the morning. What an hour to wake a witch who was supposed to be on holiday!

Minerva finished dressing, choosing a dusty-rose coloured robe that had contrasting copper-green piping. She charmed her slip-on shoes to match the colour of the trim. Deciding that she couldn’t take the time to do anything fancy with her hair that morning, she put it up in a French twist. She drank the rest of her tea, brushed her teeth, and made her way downstairs to find Gertrude. Minerva assumed that, given the special summons and the early hour, she would be the only one breakfasting with Gertrude.

Minerva found Gertrude seated at the round table on the veranda, a large pot of what was presumably coffee in front of her. Minerva drew up her chair. “Good-morning, Gertrude.”

“Good-morning. Have a cup of coffee. Costa Rican. Better than what the Hogwarts elves serve.”

Minerva, biting back the comment that she preferred tea in the morning, as it woke one more gently, poured herself a cup of coffee, and added a good amount of cream to it. She took a sip and was pleasantly surprised. It actually wasn’t too bad.

“How did you enjoy your evening, Minerva? I saw that Quin was keeping you ‘amused,’” said Gertrude dryly.

“Yes. He is quite amusing. Just that.” Minerva had the good grace to blush.

“I spoke to him last night. I was concerned that he was perhaps . . . misleading you regarding his intentions. He reassured me that you were not taking his flirtations seriously.” Gertrude fixed her gaze on Minerva. “I do hope he is correct. I did not invite you here in order for my nephew to take advantage of you, particularly after the last stressful months. If he is bothering you with unwanted attentions, I would appreciate knowing it, and I apologise for having suggested he keep you company.”

Minerva was struck, first, by Gertrude’s stated concerns, then by her apology, and, finally, by her reference to Quin as her “nephew.” She must feel quite close to him, which accorded with Quin’s own remarks about her.

“Yes, yes, Gertrude. I am sorry we alarmed you last night. He was just being charming and . . . entertaining me – innocently,” Minerva added. “I think we understand each other quite well.” Minerva thought of Gertrude’s apology and decided that one of her own was called for. “And I am sorry for what I implied yesterday evening when we spoke after dinner. Quin has been a gentleman, and that’s all. I was just being . . . silly, I suppose.”

“Hhmmh.” Gertrude sipped her coffee. “I do not wish to interfere with your enjoyment of the next few days, Minerva, but I did not bring you here to have Quin dally with your affections. You may be a hearty soul, but we all have times in our lives when we are more vulnerable than we are at others. I was afraid that Quin, for all that he is basically a decent wizard, might take advantage of you. But if you are both enjoying yourselves and you ‘understand each other,’ I am glad of that.”

Minerva, quite taken aback by the thought that Gertrude considered her “vulnerable,” wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“Would you care for something to eat now? I believe Quin will be joining us shortly. We can breakfast now with him, or we can wait and eat with the others later.”

“Now would be fine, Gertrude.” Remembering her conversation with Quin the night before, Minerva decided that she should clarify one more thing to Gertrude before he joined them. “I really do like Quin, Gertrude. And I think we will become good friends, but that is all; nonetheless, you may see us being, well, a bit closer than that. I just wanted to warn you that appearances may be deceiving. It just might be something of a . . . shield for both of us, if certain people think we are involved in some way.”

Gertrude looked over at her again. “If you think you know what you’re doing, Minerva . . . you and Quin are both quite old enough to make your own choices, I would say. As long as you and he understand one another.”

Minerva couldn’t help but laugh slightly at that. When Gertie looked at her quizzically, Minerva said, “It’s not as though you are particularly transparent, yourself, Gertrude, that’s all. I don’t know as I will ever understand you . . . I am not sure I even understand your understanding of me! I suppose that’s something that separates Slytherins and Gryffindors.”

Not appearing perturbed by Minerva’s statement, Gertrude just gave a crooked grin. “I think you should understand me very well, Minerva. I have been quite straightforward with you – always have been. Known I had to be if you were to have any idea at all what I was telling you. But then, perhaps that is the difference between Gryffindors and Slytherins. Gryffindors can never recognise when a Slytherin is being straightforward.”

Minerva just raised an eyebrow at her breakfast companion, but remembered Albus’s note. He had said, once again, that he hoped that Minerva would come to know Gertrude better and that Gertrude had always thought highly of Minerva. She would try to give her the benefit of the doubt, then. Just as Minerva was about to ask Gertrude about Valerianna’s rather obvious interest in her, however, a cheery voice came from the French doors behind her.

“Ah, me two favourite witches! Good-mornin’ to you both!”

“You’re late, Quin.”

“Most sorry, Gertrude. Fell asleep while puttin’ on me socks, I did.” Quin bent and gave Gertrude a kiss on the cheek. Minerva was somewhat surprised to see that Gertie tilted her face to him as though she expected one. “And me fair Gryffindor goddess! I’m still not convinced that you did not spring from beneath the standin’ stone, after all!” Quin took Minerva’s chin in his hand and gave her a light kiss on the lips before sitting down with them. “Did Gertrude explain to you that I told her last night that me intentions toward you are nothin’ but honourable and that I was merely tryin’ to amuse you?”

“She did. Apparently she thinks that you would take advantage of a poor, vulnerable witch such as myself. I think you are developing too much of a reputation as a rogue, Quin, if even those closest to you would believe such a thing of you!” Minerva teased.

“Ah, well, ’tis better than be thought to be losin’ me edge, to be sure!”

Minerva saw Gertrude’s lips twitch as though she were trying not to smile. “You shouldn’t make light, Quin. It’s not merely your reputation at stake; it’s also Minerva’s. I did not invite her here in order to make her life more difficult.”

“It’s as you’re sayin’, Gertrude, and I do apologise. But Minerva’s a big girl, I’m sure she can take care of herself!”

“Hmmpf. Let’s just have breakfast and try to have some sensible conversation – if that is possible for you, Quin,” the older witch retorted mildly.

Gertrude called Shirfy, who served them breakfast. Minerva joined her hostess in eating crusty rolls and cheese; Quin ate eggs, sausage, fried bread, and grilled tomatoes. Toward the end of their congenial breakfast, a large owl swooped down and landed on the back of Minerva’s chair. She took the letter from it and offered the creature a bit of cheese and bread, but the bird ruffled its feathers and hooted. Quin laughed and offered the owl some of his sausage, which appeased it.

The letter was from Poppy. It was a bit earlier than Minerva had expected it, but Poppy was probably worried that after a full day of Gamp relatives, Minerva might need an excuse to leave.

“Rescue owl?” asked Gertrude.

“What?”

“Rescue owl – perhaps not. I thought you might have a friend send an owl in case you needed an excuse to leave without being completely impolite.”

Minerva began to blush, then remembered her Occlumency exercises and gathered herself. “I didn’t want to feel trapped, as long as we’re being blunt about it. Poppy offered to send me an owl, and I didn’t think it a bad idea. I am sorry if it was rude of me.”

Gertie barked a laugh. “No, not at all. But do not feel trapped, Minerva. I invited you here so that you might profit from your experience, not to trap you. You may leave at any time. I will make your excuses for you, if you wish.”

“I think I will stay until Thursday, as you suggested in your reply letter to me. I promised Quin I would accompany him to the party on Wednesday evening.”

Gertrude smiled slightly at that. “Good. I am glad. And perhaps we can spend some time together, as well, Minerva.”

“I’d like that, Gertie,” Minerva said, feeling well-disposed toward the witch after their satisfying breakfast.

Shortly afterward, Minerva excused herself, promising to see them both later that morning, and went to her room where she opened Poppy’s “rescue letter.”

“Tuesday, 9 July

“Dear Minerva,

“I thought you might be needing this sooner rather than later. Write me back today if you’d like me to send another owl tomorrow. Besides, I’d love to hear some advance news on how you are enduring your holiday!

“I must run now – I told my sister I would look after the kids this morning, and it sounds like they’re tearing the house apart already.

“Looking forward to hearing from you,

“Poppy”

Minerva sat down with a quill and some parchment she found in the small desk in her bedroom and composed a quick note to Poppy, telling her that she did think she would stay until Thursday morning, but that she would welcome a letter from her, in any case. She mentioned Quin briefly, stating that he was the only one of Gertie’s relatives who seemed anything more than merely tolerable. Considering a bit first, Minerva then mentioned that she had also met Valerianna Yaxley and told Poppy that she thought Valerianna had to be one of the most disagreeable witches she had ever met. She added that Valerianna seemed to have taken an instant dislike to her, so that no doubt accounted in part for her own opinion of the witch. Preferring to leave her description of Valerianna vague, Minerva mentioned nothing of what Gertrude had told her, nor did she specifically mention any of Valerianna’s gibes from the night before.

Minerva wondered if Poppy had known that Albus had been seeing the witch – the matron had been at Hogwarts at the time Albus was supposedly escorting her about. Of course, it wasn’t as though staff routinely discussed their personal lives with any but their friends, and Albus was particularly circumspect; nonetheless, in a small community such as that at Hogwarts, it was possible that Poppy had heard some gossip about it – although Minerva did think that Poppy would have mentioned something had she known of it. The two witches had maintained a regular correspondence whilst Minerva was still living in London, after all. Poppy would probably have mentioned it in passing had she known, even if it were just a single line saying that she’d heard Albus was seeing some witch.

Minerva folded up her letter and sealed it with some blue wax she found in the desk, adding a sealing charm, as well. She pulled another piece of parchment from the drawer and began a letter to Albus.

“Tuesday, 9 July

“Dear Albus,

“It was lovely to open your package last night and find your letter and the very thoughtful present. It had been a tiring day, and I was very glad of a cup of tea from home – from you, Albus. But the best part of the present was your letter. After such a long day, and after meeting so many ‘unusual’ people, I can scarcely express how welcome your letter truly was. Indeed, I was touched by your confession that you had already begun to miss me because, if I may make a confession of my own, as I stood there prepared to Portkey away, all I wanted to do was stay and spend the day with you. I hope you forgive my own sentimentality.

“I must say, your estimation of Gertrude’s relatives – and my reaction to them – was quite accurate. There is, however, one bright ray of sunshine to be found – perhaps, if it does not sound conceited, I may quote your words and say that there may be one wizard here who is ‘wise enough to recognise my worth.’ I do not know if you are acquainted with Gertrude’s nephew-by-marriage, Quin MacAirt – actually Cormac MacAirt, but he quite sensibly goes by ‘Quin’ – although he seems acquainted with you, at least by reputation. He and his children seem very agreeable, and Gertrude has set him the task of making sure that I am not bored or overly bothered by any of her less congenial relatives, of whom, I am sorry to say, there is no lack! Nonetheless, I would prefer your company to any other, and I wish you were here. Since you are not, however, I must make do! I think you would like Quin, Albus, and I think the three of us would have a good time together watching the rest of the company and their machinations.

“Last night, I thought how exhausting it must be for some of these people – one witch in particular – to continually find new ways to assault others with veiled insults. Of course, the insults are so thinly veiled, perhaps they do not actually put very much effort into it. They must be very bored, and boring, to be unable to find any other method of amusing themselves. But do not worry, Albus; I am doing fine, and I will not let myself be overly disturbed by them.

“Gertrude and I had a very pleasant breakfast together this morning. Quin joined us for a while. He does enjoy tweaking her, but she seems to tolerate him quite well. I think he even made her smile once or twice, despite herself. Speaking of Quin, he handles these people amazingly well – it’s rather awe-inspiring to watch him turn tables on them. Alas, my own skills are quite poor in comparison! I do hope they never have to get better, however!

“I wish you were here, but as you are not, I will enjoy another comforting cup of tea later today, remembering that you gave it to me. Thank you again for the thoughtful gift!

“With my very warmest regards,

“Minerva”

Minerva sealed the letter as she had Poppy’s, writing Albus’s name plainly on the outside of it. She would take a nap and then find Gertie to ask her if she might borrow an owl or two. Surely the Gamps had at least a couple owls, given the number of house-elves she had seen already.

Minerva stripped to her underwear, drew the curtains closed, and climbed into her freshly-made bed, thinking that a nap of an hour or two would help her prepare for the rigours of the day ahead.

An hour after lying down for her nap, Minerva woke, stretched and, with some reluctance, thought about the day ahead. It was still only ten o’clock. First order of business, she thought as she dressed, would be to find Gertrude and borrow an owl to post her letters. After that, she wasn’t sure what was expected of her, although Gertrude had said she would like to spend some time with her during in the next few days. Of course, there was Quin, too. Not to mention that, as much as she loathed the idea of having any conversation with the witch, she actually wouldn’t mind getting another look at Valerianna. She would probably regret it, but Minerva felt drawn to her, wanting to know what it was Valerianna had that Albus could have found attractive, and what kind of relationship they could have had. Minerva only had Gertrude’s word for it, after all, that she and Albus had anything other than a superficial social relationship. And, as Gertrude had mentioned, the witch had been on the Hogwarts Board of Governors at the time in question. Perhaps the Yaxley woman had simply misconstrued Albus’s intentions. After all, she was a widow, and perhaps Albus had felt some responsibility toward her after her husband’s death. Gertrude could be exaggerating the extent of their relationships, perhaps based on Valerianna’s own misperceptions. Not to forget that the two of them were related. As much as Gertrude professed to dislike her relatives, she must feel some clan loyalty to them.

Although . . . had Gertrude ever said she disliked any of her relatives? No, Minerva didn’t think she had. Albus had said Gertrude thought that Minerva wouldn’t like them, which was a rather different thing. Quin had said that Gertrude had invited Minerva because she wasn’t like the Yaxley-Black-Flint crowd, and he certainly believed that another part of the reason was because Gertrude was a part of the “Dumbledore-can-do-no-wrong” camp. That may be true, but it certainly didn’t mean that Gertrude didn’t have other things in common with the rest of her family. Who knows? Maybe shehad thought that Yaxley and Albus should have got together, despite her stated opinion of Yaxley and her intentions toward Albus. Although, had Gertrude actually expressed disapproval of her intentions? No . . . not really. She had said that – what was it? – Valerianna hadn’t managed to sink her claws into Albus before he had discovered she wasn’t the witch he had thought she was, but Gertrude never actually said anything negative about Valerianna. Where Minerva came from, “sinking one’s claws” into someone was not particularly high praise, but who knew how a Slytherin would view such a thing. Maybe Gertrude was only unhappy because Valerianna hadn’t succeeded, as a true Slytherin would have.

That thought made Minerva’s stomach drop. Perhaps Gertrude wasn’t unhappy with Albus’s rejection of Valerianna because of her own Slytherin designs on him. That would accord with what Quin had said of Gertrude’s devotion to Albus. A devotion that Minerva herself had actually defended the day before. And Albus certainly seemed to value Gertrude highly. Even his letter yesterday had mentioned her. But of course it would; she was there visiting Gertrude, after all. It would have been peculiar if he hadn’t mentioned her. But he had asked her to try to get to know Gertrude better. Why would he want Minerva to be friends with her? Because he felt close to Minerva and wanted to make sure that she felt comfortable around another witch to whom he was also close? But she wasn’t asked to get to know all of Albus’s friends. He never encouraged her to do any more than tolerate Professor Slughorn, and Minerva had the impression the two wizards knew each other quite well. Or Birnbaum, and they were definitely good friends.

Minerva did not like the direction that her thoughts were going. She didn’t usually sit around and analyse everything and everyone around her. She knew what was causing this atypical obsessive introspection: those feelings for Albus which she shouldn’t even have. Minerva sighed and reminded herself that Albus was not in any way answerable to her, his private life was his own, she wanted his happiness above all else, and simply because she couldn’t have him didn’t mean that no other witch should want him. And if Albus wanted some other witch, even Gertrude – tears pricked her eyes at the thought – Minerva would have to be happy for him. As long as the other witch was good for him. And comparing Gertrude to Valerianna, there was no doubt which one Minerva would prefer to see him with. Although she knew that if Albus were to become even more attached to Gertrude than he already obviously was, it wouldn’t matter that he enjoyed Minerva’s company; not only would he not have the time to spend with her – which was little enough as it was – but it would be inappropriate for him to spend a lot of time with a young, single witch, even one with whom he had a long-standing mentoring relationship.

Now she had worked herself into a right state. She practically had Albus married off! Gertrude had never expressed any such interest in him. Everything that Minerva knew of their relationship could be as easily explained as a friendship as it could as . . . whatever else it might be that they might become. Or perhaps what they already were?

Minerva snatched her letters from the desk, wanting to slap herself for having brought herself from merely wondering about Valerianna Yaxley to speculating that Gertrude and Albus were more than just friends. Time to get out of the room, time to post her letters, time to distract herself.

Minerva fairly ran downstairs to find Gertrude, but instead discovered a gathering in a small parlour. Madam Columbine Gamp and her husband Gropius were there with a few other witches and wizards of their generation. Minerva was about to apologise and excuse herself when Madam Gamp invited her to come in; she introduced Minerva to the others as “Professor McGonagall, my daughter’s colleague.” Minerva recognised many of the others in the room. She nodded pleasantly at the assembled group and wondered how she could make a gracious exit. The family matriarch seemed determined to be hospitable, however, and had her take a seat between Arcturus Black and Hepzibah Rosier, who had been the two youngest in the room until Minerva entered. Arcturus was only in his fifties, but Hepzibah was closing in on eighty. Minerva felt quite the child that Valerianna had called her the night before. Odd that she never felt that way with Albus, and he was older than any of the witches or wizards gathered in the parlour.

Minerva politely nodded and smiled as she listened to everyone discussing people she didn’t know, or, if she knew them, about whom she cared little. Arcturus Black turned to her. “So, Professor McGonagall, is it?” Minerva nodded in response. “I don’t think I know any McGonagalls. Didn’t go to school with any.”

“I was at school with Orion and Lucretia, sir,” Minerva answered, thinking that she remembered he was their father.

“Ah, yes. And your father?”

“He was at Hogwarts somewhat before you were, I believe. He took his NEWTs in eighteen eighty-eight, and my mother was about five years behind him.”

“Hmm, hmm,” said the doddering old fellow on the other side of Arcturus – Minerva thought he was another Rosier. “Seem to remember him. Runty fellow with a squint. Always fiddling with runes and such.”

Minerva could scarcely believe this frail-looking wizard had been at school with her father, who was still hale and energetic at the relatively young age of eighty-eight. “You were in my father’s class, sir?” Minerva thought she would be safe and stick with “sir” and “ma’am,” since she couldn’t be sure of all their names.

“He was a Ravenclaw prefect my first year there. My older brother was a Slytherin prefect, so I remember him better than I might. How is your father, dear?” the wizard wheezed.

“Fine. He has another book coming out in the autumn based on his research into ancient Persian and Indian incantation forms and their influence on the development of Arabic and European spells.”

“Hmm, hmm. Fascinating. Written many books has he?”

Minerva swallowed her retort and merely replied, “Approximately thirty.”

The witch seated next to the curious wizard cackled. “How very dull for you, darling!”

“Now, Mother,” said Minerva’s questioner, “as Professor McGonagall is a teacher, I am sure she finds it anything but dull.” He said this in a tone that implied, however, that he certainly did.

The witch picked up her son’s questioning. Minerva threw a glance in Columbine Gamp’s direction, but both she and her husband were talking with other guests. “So, did your father’s father go to Hogwarts, child?”

Minerva was truly getting sick of people whom she scarcely knew calling her “child,” “dear,” and “darling.” With the exception of Quin and his mother-in-law, Minerva didn’t think there was a single person she had met there who she believed actually had warm feelings toward her. Somewhat agitated, Minerva said, “I think the interest in the McGonagall name comes from its unfamiliarity in your circle. My father’s father was the son of a Muggle-born witch and a Muggle-born wizard, therefore there have been only a few generations of wizarding McGonagalls.” Minerva watched the expressions on the faces of those who were listening to the conversation – showing reactions ranging from stiff disdain to incredulity, and even what appeared to be pity from one witch, as though she believed that Minerva was too uncouth to understand what it was she was admitting to.

Minerva smiled pleasantly. “However, my Grandmother Siofre Tyree found my Grandfather McGonagall quite acceptable, and as all four of her grandchildren have gone on to productive wizarding careers, I don’t believe she’s seen any cause to regret her choice.”

“Oh, well then. Must have been a fine wizard,” mumbled one witch.

“A Tyree? You’re a Tyree?” squeaked Arcturus Black.

“No, no. My mother is an Egidius. It’s my grandmother who is a Tyree.” Minerva had the impression that two of the wizards had blanched at her repetition of the name “Tyree,” although it was difficult to tell, they were so pale as it was. “I do hope that you will excuse me, however.” Minerva rose. “As pleasant as this has been, I was off to post some letters. It has been most interesting.”

She nodded at the others and headed toward the door, pausing a moment to thank Columbine Gamp for inviting her to join her and her friends. The oblivious witch smiled vacantly and told Minerva that she hoped to see more of her over the next few days. Reaching the relative safety of the hallway, Minerva let out a breath. Columbine Gamp didn’t seem terrible, just somewhat vacuous, and Gertrude’s father seemed equally inoffensive, but their friends alternated between being boring to being annoying in the extreme.

After wandering around the ground floor and finding only other guests, who paid her no attention as she peeked in at them, Minerva stepped out the front door and began to walk around the house. She couldn’t remember the route that Quin had used to go to the gardens the day before, and she didn’t want to walk through the conservatory where Druella, Orion, and a few other younger guests had gathered. Despite the early hour, it appeared they were drinking something stronger than the tea that the older crowd had been enjoying.

Minerva walked the long way around the house. As she approached the veranda, she was unhappy to see that Valerianna Yaxley and her barnacle were there with Gertrude, Pollux, and Irma. Gertrude was wearing her usual inscrutable expression, Irma was simpering, Pollux looked bored, and Valerianna looked like the cat who ate the canary – an expression she no doubt cultivated to make others nervous. Swallowing her own slight anxiety and remembering to calm her breathing and her heart rate, Minerva walked up the short flight of steps to the veranda.

As she came toward the table, Pollux stood politely; Francis half-stood, somewhat reluctantly, before Valerianna tugged his sleeve, reseating him with a quick jerk.

Just as Valerianna was about to open her mouth, no doubt in “friendly greeting,” Gertrude said, “Minerva, how lovely to see you. I was afraid you had forgotten our walk. Excuse us, please, but I did promise to take Minerva on a bit of a tour this morning.”

Gertrude hustled Minerva down the stairs and into the garden, leading her around to an area that Minerva guessed was not visible from the veranda.

“They were becoming insufferable. I was trying to think of an excuse to get away from them when you so conveniently came along. Since I presume you were not seeking their company, might I guess you were looking for me?”

“Yes, actually. I know what you mean about needing to get away. Your mother very kindly invited me to join her and her friends in the parlour. It was rather tedious until I just happened to mention my Grandmother Tyree. Whilst they were trying to determine how to respond to that, I managed to excuse myself.”

The corners of Gertrude’s mouth quirked briefly. “Hmm. Must remember that myself. That you’re a Tyree, I mean.”

“As I explained to them, my mother’s an Egidius; it is my father’s mother who is a Tyree, so I’m not a Tyree.”

“Near enough, Minerva, near enough. You’re of the clan! But I doubt you wanted to discuss blood-lines, or you would have remained in the parlour. What may I do for you?”

“I have a couple of letters. I was wondering whether there might be an owl or two I could borrow. One letter is going to Hogwarts, the other one is just going to Wales.”

“Mmm. Usually summon a house-elf to post my letters, myself, but we can walk around to the owlery. Feel free to use any of them. All the Gamp owls have a yellow band on one leg with ‘ducere’ on it. Other owls not belonging to us occasionally rest there before heading back home is the only reason I mention it.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Minerva had never heard of anyone having so many owls that they banded them and had their own private owlery. “‘Ducere’?” she asked.

“From the Gamp motto: Ducere est Imperare. Not that any Gamps have been called upon to live up to that motto for a few centuries.” Gertie seemed to think this was funny.

They reached a small outbuilding on the far side of the garden near a grove of trees. Gertie helped her choose two owls, a large Eagle Owl to carry her letter to Albus and a small but vigorous-looking Scops to bring her letter to Poppy. On Poppy’s letter, she had written, “Madam Poppy Pomfrey, care of Violet Bowen,” just in case the owl needed the additional information in order to find her. Minerva sometimes thought she should have continued with Care of Magical Creatures in her NEWTs years, but a witch could only do so much, and her Animagus training took much of her energy during her sixth year.

Gertie made no comment on the letters Minerva was sending, although she must have seen that one of them was to Albus. The two witches walked in silence back through the gardens, Gertie leading Minerva to an area that she and Quin had not explored the day before.

“Would you like to sit a while? Lunch won’t be for another hour. Quin is off playing with the children in some other part of the garden, though, if you would prefer to find him,” Gertrude said.

“No, I think it would be nice to sit a while. After the long day I had yesterday, I’m not sure I’m up to playing with three MacAirt children,” Minerva replied, pleased when her remark elicited a smile from the older witch.

“Mmm. He is a bit of a child sometimes. But he is a shrewd businessman, from what I understand, and a powerful wizard, although he doesn’t always let that show.”

“I was rather impressed by his performance at lunch, though.”

“Oh, he was just playing there. Rather like Albus and his armchairs. Although he did enjoy annoying Francis.”

“He said that Frank – Francis – really did hate him, but he never had time to tell me why.”

“He didn’t find any time in between whispering sweet nothings and nibbling your ear?” Gertie asked with a smirk. “Francis has never been happy with the way that Quin has integrated himself so well into the Muggle business world. At one point, he had himself convinced that Quin must be violating numerous Muggle Secrecy laws and must also be using magic in some way in order to make his businesses a success. Francis launched an investigation, involved the Department for Magical Law Enforcement and the Minister’s office in it, and then the investigation turned up nothing – but only after Quin had led them on a merry chase through all of his Muggle and wizarding businesses. Francis was blamed for the waste of Ministry resources and is now stuck doing some kind of parchment-pushing in the Department of Mysteries.”

“Does he? Quin, I mean, not Francis. I don’t mean does he violate the Secrecy laws; does he use magic to get ahead in his Muggle businesses?”

“Possibly, but not in any way that would come to the attention of the Muggle authorities. He operates all of his Muggle investments and businesses according to Muggle laws and doesn’t use any Charmed objects or spells in order to increase productivity or to induce Muggles to do as he wants. From what I understand, he uses almost entirely Muggle methods in his Muggle business life.”

“‘Almost entirely’ is not entirely, though, Gertrude,” Minerva replied somewhat sternly.

“I don’t peer over his shoulder, Minerva,” replied Gertrude somewhat sharply, “but I believe that he only uses various divination methods and perhaps a bit of . . . personal charm to advance himself in the Muggle world.”

“Divination? Well, that’s more likely to put him at a disadvantage, I’d say. And there’s nothing wrong with being charming, which he is. Unless you mean something different by it than I do.”

“It is magic, but it doesn’t have an exact cognate in the formal wizarding classifications we normally use when discussing magic. You’ll have to ask him about it – although you actually witnessed a mild example of it yesterday at lunch.”

“The water glass? But I could do those things – with a wand, anyway.”

“No. Perhaps you didn’t notice then.” Gertie thought a moment. “After Francis became so enraged and the entire table turned its attention on him, didn’t you notice how very innocent Quin seemed? Mild . . . perhaps a bit smaller?”

“Yes, actually, but . . . did he really become smaller?”

“It’s hard to say. I’m not sure. You will have to ask him more about it. As an Arithmancer, I’ve always been more curious about his divination practices, so I haven’t asked. As a Transfiguration mistress, though, I can see how this ability might be of interest to you.”

“He told me he was rubbish at Transfiguration!” Minerva exclaimed indignantly.

“Oh, he is, quite. I am stellar at it compared to Quin – and I will confess to receiving only an ‘Acceptable’ in my Transfiguration NEWT. What he does is not a charm or a Transfiguration, as far as I know. As I said, you’ll have to ask him.” Gertrude seemed to be tiring of the discussion of Quin and turned it in a slightly different direction. “I was impressed that you stuck with Arithmancy through your seventh year, Minerva. I never had the impression you particularly enjoyed it, despite earning an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ on your NEWT.”

“I didn’t dislike it, but you’re right, it wasn’t my favourite subject.”

“I can easily guess that Transfiguration held that position.”

“Of course. Otherwise, why would I have pursued an apprenticeship in it?” answered Minerva.

“Albus was very proud of you. Proud of the way you handled your first ‘apprenticeship,’ particularly. I think everyone on the staff heard about your Challenge performance at least twice – more if he had a willing audience.” Gertrude grinned. “I probably heard the story in its entirety at least a half dozen times – at least in bits and pieces.”

Minerva breathed calmly and tried not to blush. “I was glad to make him proud of me. He was my first Transfiguration teacher. I would not have wanted to have embarrassed him by not doing well.”

“He was tickled pink by your performance, so no need to worry on that score. And he clearly thinks enough of you to hire you to teach Transfiguration at Hogwarts.”

“As I said, I am glad I be able to perform well.”

“Mmm. There is more to living up to the job he handed you than just performing well, though, Minerva.”

Taken aback by Gertie’s use of the phrase “the job he handed you,” Minerva could only stare at the other teacher.

“Loyalty, Minerva. I believe you have it. And I hope you do. The Headmaster needs your loyalty, as well as your competence, although he would never come out and ask for it directly. I certainly believe that he deserves your loyalty, though, and I believe you have the capacity for it.”

“Of course he has my loyalty!” Minerva said indignantly. “Why would you even question that?”

“I do not question it, Minerva, I merely draw your attention to it. His staff is all more or less loyal to him, of course, and as Headmaster, he should expect at least some measure of loyalty from all of them. I believe that your own loyalty is even more important, though. Tell me, has he talked to you at all about your future at Hogwarts?”

“What do you mean?” Rather paranoid, Minerva wondered if Gertrude was thinking of cutting short her future at Hogwarts.

Gertrude sighed and rolled her shoulders. “Wilhelmina is leaving at the end of next term,” she said without further explanation.

“Oh. You mean Gryffindor House.”

“Yes, precisely. I am sure he would have informed me if you were going to become Head of House, so I presume that either you are not going to be, for whatever reason, or that either you or he has not yet come to a decision.” Gertrude waited.

Minerva said, “We discussed it. I said I would consider it, but I feel I am somewhat young for the position, and I don’t want to take it if Professor Pretnick would feel slighted if he were passed over.”

Gertrude snorted. “Who would or would not feel slighted should not be a genuine consideration in such decisions – although it unfortunately often is. My point, though, Minerva, is that if you become Head of House – Head of Gryffindor – Albus will need your loyalty even more. And I have found that he is sometimes in need of protection. Even from himself at times. For all of his intelligence, power, and many, many talents, Albus Dumbledore needs to be protected by those who are loyal to him. I have occasionally had to shield him myself.”

It was Minerva’s turn to snort. “I do not see Albus as needing protection – and certainly not my protection! Look at the two of us, after all!” The comparison was absurd.

Gertrude turned to look at her and smiled. “I have done, Minerva. I believe you might do well as Head of Gryffindor. And I think that if you understand what Albus needs, even if he does not always understand it himself, you would do very well, indeed.”

Minerva would be the last person to disavow Albus or even to hint at being anything less than loyal to him. She still didn’t like this conversation, though, and felt that Gertrude was being rather high-handed.

“I am rather insulted that you would question my loyalty to the Headmaster, Gertrude, even if only by implication. And if ever he needs any protection and I can provide it, I will.” Minerva suddenly recalled the incident in France in which he had needed more from her than just her loyalty, and she had given it more than willingly. She hadn’t precisely received his thanks for it when it was over – well, she had received his thanks, but her subsequent overtures to offer him comfort had been neatly deflected. Minerva straightened her back. “I would offer him anything he might accept from me, if ever he needs anything I can give him.”

Gertie smiled slightly. “Good. You might remember to be a bit persistent, though, Minerva. It may occasionally be somewhat difficult to do so, since your relationship with Albus began developing when you were a student. You may have a few habits to break. You must simply remember that you are now more than just his student, and then call on that Gryffindor backbone of yours and tell Albus what he needs. Don’t back down.”

Minerva bristled slightly. Who was this Slytherin to be lecturing her on how to be a Gryffindor? Never mind the fact that Minerva hadn’t been particularly persistent after the incident in France – but Albus had made it quite clear to her that her concern was neither needed nor wanted. Besides, she had been living in London at the time. Minerva responded stiffly, “I would not presume to tell the Headmaster what he needs, Gertrude.”

“Hmm. Perhaps you were right earlier,” Gertrude said. Minerva looked at her quizzically. “About Gryffindor House.” When Minerva still showed no sign of comprehension, Gertrude said patiently, “You said you might be too young for the position.”

Before Minerva could do anymore than open her mouth in complete indignation, Gertrude stood. “Time for lunch, Minerva. Gird your loins!”

Gertrude started back toward the house, not even looking back to see if Minerva was following.

Note: Ducere est Imperare ~ “To Lead is to Rule.”