Resolving a Misunderstanding

It turned out that Quin and Robert’s idea of a grand time was a pick-up Quidditch game. Quin, Gertie, Minerva, Alroy, and slender Crispin Fastnott made up one team, and Robert, Francis Flint, young Bartie Crouch, Orion Black, and Druella Black made up the other team. They played with just two Chasers and one Beater, and only one Bludger. Apparently Gertie normally played Seeker, but this time, as the smallest on the team, Alroy did. Minerva was very relieved when, after she spent almost two very sweaty hours of playing Chaser, Alroy finally caught the Snitch. They had been down by six points when they finally scored the last one hundred fifty points, and Minerva had never been much for playing Quidditch, preferring to watch and cheer others on. It didn’t help that Druella was the Beater on the other team, and she seemed to take her job a bit too seriously for a friendly pick-up game. The former Slytherin would bare her teeth as she whacked the Bludger, seeming to smile with evil glee when Gertrude’s defence was inadequate. And Gertrude’s skills were such that she seemed unable to aim the Bludger on the few occasions her bat actually made contact with it.

Minerva limped up the stairs to her room, wanting, no, needing, a shower before lunch, which was in only a half hour. She was pleased to see Gluffy appear with a small vial of some kind of pain potion. With nary a qualm, Minerva swallowed it down. She doubted that the Gamps would poison her, after all. Within moments, she felt much better. A quick shower, and she’d be good as new. Or near as she could get after having been caught by the Bludger a few too many times.

Poor Gertie must be even worse off. She was far older than Minerva, and as an inexperienced Beater, she had been hit by the Bludger more often than she’d been able to hit it with the bat. In moves that would have been disapproved in league play, she would just fly between the Bludger and Minerva or Alroy in a vain attempt to keep the Bludger from hitting either the Chasers or the Seeker. Well, not entirely in vain, since the Bludger didn’t usually hit its intended target – indeed, Alroy was never hit – but it did strike Gertie more often than not. She even fell from her broom at one point, and her son, the Keeper for the other team, caught her with an Arresto Momentum followed rapidly by a Mobilicorpus. The stubborn witch just climbed back on her broom and wouldn’t hear of switching positions with either Quin or Minerva, even after her son intervened and suggested she play Keeper or Chaser. Of course, she wouldn’t have been much better off with Minerva playing Beater. Minerva suspected Gertie had even suffered a broken arm with the last blow. Minerva wished that she’d had that bat just once; Druella would have learned a lesson from her. Minerva would have driven that Bludger right into the miserable hag’s fat, leering face.

It hadn’t helped that Valerianna was down there cheering every time that Francis scored a goal or Robert blocked Minerva from scoring, and making loud, deprecating sounds every time Minerva scored. Of course, most of the guests were out, looking on and cheering for one team or the other – or for both – but Minerva could hear Valerianna’s voice over all the others. After the game, once Gertie had been bundled off to the house with Columbine, Minerva saw Robert and Quin tallying scores. Apparently, they played a Quidditch game every year and kept a running tally of how many points each team scored. Minerva simply rolled her eyes when Quin announced ecstatically that his team was up by thirty-two points. She would have punched him if she hadn’t thought she would fall over if she tried.

After lunch, at which she was seated next to Robert, with Quin at the opposite end of the table from her for the first time, Minerva excused herself, declined an invitation to go out for a “clamber” with Robert and the MacAirts, and went up to her room for a long nap. If she was going to be fresh for the evening, she needed one, especially after her morning. She stopped to see Gertie first, and reassured herself that the older witch was quite well. Gertie had only received a hairline fracture to her ulna, quickly healed by Healer Fastnott, but Minerva scolded her gently and told her that next year, it would be safer for all involved if she declined to play Beater. Gertie grinned ruefully and admitted that Minerva was probably right, and she just might retire from the pick-up games altogether after this.

Despite her exhaustion, Minerva woke just before three o’clock to find an owl sitting on the night stand, patiently waiting to deliver its letter. Minerva wondered how long it had been there. Owls were usually quite insistent on making their deliveries and then moving on, and she was surprised the bird hadn’t awakened her.

After taking the letter from the bird and sacrificing a half a ginger newt to it, Minerva put on her glasses and opened it. She was surprised to see that it was yet another letter from Albus. He must have received her letter; hopefully, he hadn’t found it offensive in anyway. Well, he probably wouldn’t find it offensive, but he might find it silly. And she was normally so reserved, he might find it peculiar, as well. If he did, Minerva hoped he put it down to her being surrounded by strangers and missing Hogwarts, and not to an inappropriate attachment to him. She wished she had a clearer memory of what she had written.

“10 July 1957

“Dear Minerva,

“It was lovely to receive another letter from you this morning. I had to smile as I read it, since it appears we were both awake at the same time, drinking chamomile tea instead of sleeping! I am glad that my little gift has been useful and comforting.

“I was thinking of you, as well, and hoping that you were peacefully asleep after a nice day. I am sorry to hear that you were not, but I am glad that you took the opportunity to write me another letter. It was a welcome surprise this morning. I was particularly touched to read that you are missing me, although I hope that does not mean that you are not having a good time at the Gamps. If you go to the party with Quin, you should enjoy yourself this evening, at least. I am glad to hear that he is keeping you company and amusing you.

“Please give my greetings to Robert. I am sorry that I will not see him there this year, but I hope to make a trip to the Continent before the end of the summer and would enjoy visiting both him and Thea, if it is convenient, of course. I hope that his wife is well.

“I am glad you are able to spend some time with Gertie. It is often easier to get to know a colleague when you are both elsewhere, I think, and I am sure that she is enjoying the opportunity to see more of you, as well. You mentioned Ella Gamp. She is rather quiet, but I have also always found her a pleasant and friendly witch.

“I will continue to find excuses to spend time with you, Minerva, although you say I need none; without an excuse, I am afraid that you would grow quite tired of my company, though I doubt I could ever grow tired of yours, my dear. I am very glad that you are at Hogwarts and that we had our little talk the other day. I feel as though I must thank Garbhan Govannon for falling off his broom and disrupting my usual routine, or I might have remained blind for much longer and continued to have so senselessly deprived myself of your friendly companionship. It will be good to have you back at the castle, my dear, and I look forward to seeing you tomorrow morning.

“I hope you enjoy yourself with Quin this evening. You two will certainly make a fine-looking couple, probably the most attractive there! Speaking of couples, please give my congratulations and best wishes to Walburga and Orion. It is neither an unexpected match, nor an unanticipated one, although I have my reservations about it. Nonetheless, I hope that they are happy together.

“I am glad that you will be attending the party with Quin. I am sure he will take very good care of you – and if he is in need of ‘rescue,’ himself, he couldn’t be in better hands than yours, either! Do have fun tonight!

“Yours,

“Albus”

When Minerva finished reading the letter, she put it down and looked out the window, off across the gardens. It was a lovely letter . . . but it left her wistful and sad, nonetheless. She was glad that Albus enjoyed spending time with her so much, and that he had apparently appreciated her letter, which eased her mind, but it was “friendly companionship” that he found with her. Minerva knew that already, of course, and had always known that was all she could hope for from their relationship, but seeing it written on the page, in Albus’s hand, brought a lump to her throat. It was far more than she had expected from their relationship for years, and it certainly met her greatest hope when she had accepted the job at Hogwarts, that she would be able to develop a good friendship with Albus, but her desire outstripped her hopes, and she would always be aware of what it was she really wanted and could never have. What had Quin said last night? That she had to reclaim her heart and then give it to him openly . . . . She didn’t know precisely when she had given Albus her heart. Was it that day in the Transfiguration classroom when, with all the melodrama a teenager could muster, she had been convinced that she would die of her love for Albus? Perhaps that was when she finally let her heart go, or it may even have been some time after that, but she had begun giving her heart to him much before that day. It hadn’t happened overnight. How could she reclaim it? It was impossible. And if she were able to reclaim her heart, she certainly wouldn’t give it to him openly . . .

Quin had also said she should let him love her. Love her in the knowledge of her love for him. Albus surely loved her in some way, and she wasn’t stopping him from it. That would have to suffice. For what could she tell him of her feelings? She had come far too close to revealing herself fully in her letter, and that was as far as she could go. Regardless of what Quin said, her emptiness and longing would simply have to remain as they were and be satisfied by what relationship she could have with Albus; there was no point in telling him anything more, for it couldn’t change what they had, except to make it uncomfortable for them both.

Minerva looked down at the letter. He had mentioned Quin again. She sighed. At least he liked her friends. She could try harder with Gertie. It wasn’t as though she were Valerianna, after all. Albus had known Gertrude for years, well enough for her son to call him “Uncle,” and had taught beside her for almost twenty years. Albus clearly had not known Valerianna more than superficially until after they had begun seeing each other. And he had made it clear that they had had “a falling out,” as he put it. And if what Gertie and Quin had said was correct, he’d been involved with Valerianna less than a year before he discovered her true colours. Gertrude clearly cared for Albus and was loyal to him. There was no denying it. That alone should make her worthy of Minerva’s respect, even if she couldn’t ever muster a strong affection for her. Although Minerva had felt some warmth for Gertie when she stopped to see how the older witch was feeling after her multiple encounters with the Bludger that morning. Foolish witch, to have played on so stubbornly. Quin should have insisted that she switch positions with him. Or she could have played Chaser whilst Minerva played Keeper and Quin switched to Beater. Minerva would have a stern word with Quin, if she could find him. Just because he and Robert “always” played Keeper didn’t mean they had to continue to do so – they were supposed to be adults, after all!

Minerva put her raspberry-and-saffron robes back on and headed downstairs. She followed the sound of voices to the conservatory, where she found several witches in conversation about the latest fashions. Deciding to be at least minimally sociable, Minerva joined them for a while. When Irma complimented her on her robes, Minerva smiled politely and told her that it was thanks to her niece’s good taste that she had them, as she normally wouldn’t have chosen either the colour or the style. She quickly grew tired of the vapid conversation, however, and excused herself to step out on the veranda, where she found Quin, Robert, a few of the other younger wizards and a couple of witches. Quin sprang up from his chair and offered it to her, but she declined.

“I think I will take a walk. I’m afraid I’ll be quite stiff if I don’t,” Minerva said.

“Mind some company?” Quin asked, a winning smile on his face.

“No, not at all – Robert, would you like to come along?”

The tall, auburn-haired wizard smiled shyly and said that he wanted to some time with his mother that afternoon, and she should be up from her nap soon. Minerva heartily approved of that idea, but, given her short acquaintance with the wizard, she forbore mentioning that she thought he might have been a little more solicitous of his mother before she’d been Bludgered by his teammate. She would not be so restrained with Quin, however, although she would wait until they were out of earshot of the rest of the company on the veranda. Minerva conveyed Albus’s message to Robert, which elicited a larger smile from him, and his soft thanks.

Quin followed Minerva down into the garden. “Why am I gettin’ the idea you’re unhappy with me, Minerva?”

“You are?” Minerva was perturbed by his cavalier treatment of Gertie’s safety, especially given that he seemed fond of the witch, but she didn’t believe she had behaved in anything other than a normal manner with him just then. “Well, I don’t know what would give you that notion, but now that you bring it up, I found your willingness to allow Gertrude to play Beater this morning most displeasing. She’s not as young as you are, Quin, and she clearly had no ability to play that position.”

“Well, I did offer to have her play Chaser, but she insisted. Crispin has that bad shoulder, so he couldn’t take the position, and Gertie didn’t want either you or Alroy hurt –”

“I may not be particularly good at Quidditch, in any position, but I would have been better suited to that position than she, not to mention the fact that as the largest, strongest player on the team by far, you would have been the logical choice to be Beater.”

“I didn’t think of that immediately, honestly, Minerva. And before we started, I had no idea she would be as abysmal as she was or I would have insisted that I play Beater. But I always am Keeper, just as Robert is always Keeper for the other team, and it just didn’t occur to me to change off this year.”

“Well, then, you still should have insisted she trade with one of us once it was clear she had no clue how to stop the Bludger without flying into it! I don’t think I’ve seen anything quite that . . . inept in any Quidditch game. And barring that, you or Robert should have called Druella out on her unsporting behaviour – had her either play a different position or at least not be so cutthroat about it. The witch was positively nasty. She certainly took advantage of the fact that Gertrude didn’t know what she was doing.”

“You saw Gertrude, Minerva. She wouldn’t hear of it, and as for Druella . . . she certainly won’t be asked to play again. And I would say that she and Cygnus will not find the Gamp Estate so welcoming in the future. Columbine was most displeased.”

Minerva snorted. “Lovely. The miserable toad practically kills Gertrude and she will – horrors! – be snubbed at future Gamp gatherings.” Minerva shook her head.

“Come, now, Minerva, ‘practically killed’ is an overstatement. And Gertie was not entirely innocent in the matter. She should have swallowed her pride and switched positions, but she didn’t. Don’t worry, we will make sure that our friendly game is friendlier next year. But did you see Alroy! He was fabulous!”

“Mmm. He’s eleven; he was good and showed potential. But the game would have gone faster if he or Bartie had been more experienced and one of them had managed to catch the Snitch sooner,” Minerva grumbled. Seeing Quin’s crestfallen face, Minerva added, “But Alroy is extremely good for his age, and he had very good control of his broom. He will have to try out for his House team his second year.”

“Second?”

“Yes. As a general rule, first-year students are not allowed to try out for Quidditch. Partly to allow more students an opportunity to play, partly because they are usually not skilled enough, but mainly because the practices would distract them too much during a time when they should be settling into their studies and getting to know all of their classmates, not just other Quidditch players.”

“I’ll have to get him a new broom, to be sure. The Cleansweep Four, perhaps.”

Changing the topic, Minerva asked, “Looking forward to this evening, Quin?”

“O’ course I am, love! I’m only escortin’ the most beautiful witch there, after all. I’ll be the envy of every wizard in attendance.”

Minerva laughed.

“It’s laughin’, she is! Sincerity oozin’ from me every pore, an’ she’s laughin’!” he huffed.

Minerva took his arm as they walked out of the garden onto the moor. “No, no, it’s just that you compliment me so much, and I’m not used to it.”

Quin turned and looked at her seriously. “You should be, Minerva. This wizard of yours, he isn’t appreciating you, then?”

Minerva blushed, but answered him. “I’m sure he does, in his own way.”

“But not to be complimentin’ you, tellin’ you what a fine witch you are an’ how beautiful . . . .”

“No, no, he does; it’s just different,” Minerva said with a sigh.

“Different? How?” he asked.

“He doesn’t mean it the same way.”

“You mean he’s not sincere?”

“Of course he’s sincere, Quin . . . I really don’t want to talk about this now.”

“All right . . . but it seems to me that if he’s payin’ you compliments an’ they’re sincere, well, p’raps it’s not as much a lost cause as you were tellin’ me last night.”

“It is, Quin, believe me, it is.”

“Oh . . .” Quin’s brow furrowed. “He’s married, then?”

“No! No! Of course not!”

“Um, a ‘confirmed bachelor’?” he offered tentatively.

“No, he’s not like that, either.”

“Then I must confess to bein’ confused, love. He appreciates you sincerely, he’s not married or prone to, um, other sorts of attachments, and you love him. I don’t understand why you feel so despairin’ about it all,” Quin said gently.

“It doesn’t matter, Quin, really.”

Quin paused, looking at Minerva. “I see. All right, love. Then . . . about tonight. Shall I come by your room and fetch you?”

“That would be nice, Quin, although I would prefer it if you didn’t think of it as ‘fetching,’” Minerva replied, glad he had let up on the other subject.

He smiled. “I shall arrive fifteen minutes before dinner, then, and escort you to the ballroom – I was right in my guess they’ll have the dinner there.”

“That’s fine, Quin,” she answered, distracted by her thoughts of Albus and what Quin had said.

“I hope you enjoy dancin’ – and that you’ll save a few for me.”

“I enjoy it very much, actually, and if you can dance, you may actually have more than a few,” she smiled up at him, turning her thoughts back to her companion. “I’m genuinely looking forward to it, Quin.”

“And you mustn’t let any of these folks spoil it for you, either, Minerva,” he answered, his fingertips briefly touching her cheek.

“Do you know something, Quin?” Minerva asked, slightly alarmed.

“I don’t know anything, nothin’ specific, to be sure. Just that a few of these folks, as you know, enjoy stirrin’ things up whilst appearin’ perfectly innocent.” Quin led her to a fallen menhir and they sat on the sun-warmed stone.

“That description sounds like it could be of you.”

He laughed. “Touché! But I only stir things up for people who started the stirrin’ first. There’s a difference.”

“It didn’t seem that Francis was ‘stirring’ when you taunted him at lunch that time.”

“His remark about not seein’ me recently was not calculated to be mere small talk, love. I just reminded him of what happens when he does see me around the Ministry, that’s all.”

“Gertie told me something about that. It seems you were rubbing salt in his wounds, and a long time after the fact, too.”

“Rubbin’ salt in his wounds, is it? If he has any wounds to be rubbin’, they’re self-inflicted. I warned him off, in a friendly sort o’ way, an’ he could have backed off at any point, but he didn’t stop until the Ministry put an end to it after he’d run through his entire budget investigatin’ meself. And with nothin’ to show for it.”

“I don’t understand why he did that, Quin – if there was nothing to his suspicions, he must have realised it. Why didn’t he quit? Or was there something to it, and you were just more clever than he?”

“He believes the latter. Or has convinced himself of it. Not that I’m more clever, of course, but that I was luckier than he. As to why he didn’t quit . . . only he could answer that, but I think it was ambition. He thought that bringin’ me down would advance his career. Instead, it earned him a one-way ticket to obscurity.” He looked down at her. “I really did try to tell him, Minerva, but when he kept goin’ – it was divertin’ me resources and causin’ me no end o’ trouble. So I went ahead an’ made things a bit more interestin’ for him . . . little hints ’n’ whiffs of nothin’, but he followed ’em all to his own destruction. If he’d o’ left well enough alone, or even just done his job, I would o’ left him alone. He should o’ known there was nothin’ there after his first look-see.”

“Hmm. I see. I suppose I don’t want to get on your wrong side, Quin!”

He grinned. “Not a chance o’ that, love. Not a chance.”

Minerva stood. “I suppose we should be getting back. I’d like to see Gertie again before the party.”

“You’re warmin’ to her, then,” Quin said.

“I would be concerned about anyone who was beaten by a Bludger that way.”

“Mmm. And you are a carin’ sort. Though you have a habit o’ hidin’ it, I think. Another way that you’re like Gertie.”

Minerva just rolled her eyes and took his arm for the walk back to the house. “You really are incorrigible, you know that, don’t you?”

“’Tis part o’ me charm, though, an’ you love me for it!” He grinned impishly, blue eyes twinkling.

“Piffle!” Minerva laughed, feeling more light-hearted, her melancholy thoughts shed in the sunlight and Quin’s good company.