Curious Conversation
Minerva stopped by Gertie’s room before going to her own. She still hadn’t asked her about Poppy’s letter or told her about the words she’d overheard from Valerianna the day before. When she entered the room, Gertie was stretched out on a chaise longue, reading Arithmancy Today, and eating an apple. Minerva was suddenly transported back fifteen years to the evening when she had so rashly broken curfew, and when Professor Dumbledore had returned her to her dormitory, Professor Gamp was sitting in the Gryffindor common room in a very similar position, waiting to talk to Minerva.
As a result of the talk they had that night, Minerva began offering Transfiguration tutoring to anyone from any House, on a regular basis, at the beginning of her seventh year. She had gone to Professor Gamp for assistance in securing a classroom to hold the sessions in, explaining to Professor Gamp that this was her way of repaying Professor Dumbledore, and she’d prefer not to bother him for help. Professor Gamp’s lips twitched a slight smile, and she gave Minerva permission to use her classroom at set times each week. If Professor Gamp noticed that these times also overlapped with Professor Dumbledore’s usual office hours, she said nothing about it.
Approximately three weeks after beginning her tutoring sessions, Minerva was quite enjoying the parade of students, which ranged from a few nervous little first-years to several fifth-years who were afraid they’d been too lax in their studies and, now that OWLs were upon them, were suddenly very serious. There were even a few sixth-years who dropped in occasionally when they had trouble with a particularly difficult Transfiguration. Minerva only turned away students who were a distraction, or there just to cause problems, and seventh-year students, telling them that since she was in the same class as they were, she thought they’d be better off going directly to Professor Dumbledore. She often ended up tutoring them informally, however, rather than having them “bother” Professor Dumbledore.
One Wednesday evening in late September, Minerva was helping a second-year student with an organic-to-inorganic Transfiguration when she began to feel as though she were being watched, and not just by the students. She turned her head toward the door; there was no one there, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of being observed. A moment later, she looked toward one corner. No, no one there. After the events of the previous term, she was nervous about sensing a presence and seeing nothing. The third time Minerva looked up toward the corner from which she felt eyes upon her, she was prepared to dismiss the students and send for Professor Gamp. She blinked, then blinked again. Professor Dumbledore came into focus. He was standing there, smiling at her as though it were perfectly normal to be invisible one moment and visible the next. Leaving the students she’d been speaking to, Minerva began to walk toward her professor, but he shook his head and raised a finger to his lips. Minerva looked about her. No one else had seemed to notice Professor Dumbledore standing there watching them, and when she looked back, he was no longer there. Or, more accurately, Minerva could no longer see him. She continued to sense his presence moving about the perimeter of the room for the next twenty minutes, until she sent the last student off to her common room.
Minerva turned toward the window, where she sensed her professor standing. “That’s the last of them, Professor. You can . . . come out now, or whatever it is you are doing.”
Professor Dumbledore shimmered then solidified. He looked slightly puzzled. “You could see me?”
“No. That was no ordinary Disillusionment Charm, Professor.” Minerva furrowed her brow. “If I know someone’s Disillusioned, I can usually make out their outline, but I couldn’t see you at all.”
“No, I wasn’t Disillusioned . . . but you seemed to know where I was, even before I showed myself to you. Was I breathing particularly loudly?” he asked with a smile.
Minerva laughed. “No, I couldn’t hear you breathing.” Still chuckling, she said, “I could just feel you there. At first, I didn’t know it was you. I could just sense that someone was watching me, and I was getting nervous about it. Once I knew it was you, I could tell where you were when you moved.”
“Hmm. I didn’t realise you were that sensitive, Minerva.” His brow knit in thought.
“I’m not, really, I’m just used to you, I suppose, from Animagus training and such,” she responded, slightly uncomfortable with her admission. “I was surprised to see you, nonetheless. And not just because I couldn’t see you!”
He smiled brightly, eyes twinkling. “I was wondering where all my students were. Performance this year has been particularly good, and yet so few students have been coming to me for extra help, I was quite puzzled. I didn’t think that my teaching methods had suddenly become that much more effective, nor did I think that the general level of talent amongst the students could have changed that drastically over the summer. I wondered if other teachers were experiencing a similar drop-off in students coming to them for help, and, among those who usually see students during office hours, none had. This puzzled me even more, until I asked Derek McKinney how it was that he had been unable to Transfigure his beetle into a button on Monday and yet he was able to do so quite easily today. He informed me that you showed him what he was doing wrong. Upon further questioning, I learned that he and others have been receiving regular tutoring from you, Miss McGonagall.”
Minerva reddened. Perhaps she should have asked him first. But he had never minded the occasional tutoring she’d done for a few students now and then over the last few years. This was much more extensive, however, and Minerva had a sudden sense of how arrogant she might seem, presuming to tutor all of these students. “I’m sorry, sir. I should have checked with you first.”
“Quite all right, my dear, quite all right. Mr McKinney informed me that your sessions take place in here, so I spoke with Professor Gamp about it. She told me that she had given you permission to use her classroom. I was slightly puzzled as to why you didn’t discuss your plans with me, but Professor Gamp said that I should speak with you about that.” He waited.
Minerva thought a moment, then said, “Truthfully, sir, I wanted to help you. I have taken a lot of your time over the last few years, and I know how hard you work and how many demands you have on your time. I thought I could . . . free you for more important things.”
“The education of my students is very important to me, Minerva,” he said quietly.
“I know that. I’m sorry sir. I should have asked your permission before doing anything,” Minerva said guiltily.
“That’s not what I’m saying at all, Minerva. Thank you for taking such good care of my students. And you may, of course, continue. I would not want to see your own studies suffer for it, however. And I sometimes have other duties that are more . . . pressing, if they are not more important.” He smiled at her, one of his warm, gentle smiles that shot straight through her.
Blushing, Minerva said, “I always planned on sending anyone to you if they weren’t catching on, or if I couldn’t help them. And I have plenty of time this year, really, Professor. You needn’t worry about me.”
“I will always be concerned for your well-being, Minerva. In fact, after all that teaching, you must be quite famished!” he declared with a grin.
Minerva had protested, but Dumbledore had called Wilspy for biscuits and milk, and they were in the midst of a lovely conversation of the finer points of conveying the proper wand movement for multilevel organic-to-inorganic Transfigurations when Professor Gamp had arrived to lock up her classroom for the evening. It was one of the few times as a student that Minerva had seen a soft, genuine smile cross the older witch’s face; she had left the two of them to their biscuits, milk, and conversation, and Professor Dumbledore to lock up.
Minerva smiled, remembering that long ago evening when she’d found Professor Gamp waiting for her in the Gryffindor common room. It hadn’t been amusing at the time, of course, and she’d been dreadfully upset that Professor Dumbledore had been so angry with her, but she had enjoyed the tutoring sessions, and she had been very happy to be able to help Professor Dumbledore. Not to mention that he had revealed one of his unusual abilities to her that evening when he’d come and observed her tutoring the younger students. He had never explained to her precisely how he was able to become invisible, but it must have been quite a difficult feat to achieve, particularly since he was able to become visible to her whilst remaining invisible to everyone else in the room. She had never heard of anyone being able to do such a thing before, not outside a myth or legend, anyway. Prior to that evening, she would have said that it would be as impossible as flight without the aid of a Charmed object – unless one were a flying Animagus, of course.
“Good-afternoon, Gertie. Feeling better?”
Gertrude smiled slightly. “Much, thank you. Good as new for tonight. And you, Minerva? All set for the party?”
“Quin is coming by for me fifteen minutes before dinner; we’ll be going together.”
“He’d mentioned that.” Gertie looked at Minerva a moment. “I am glad to see that you two are getting along so well, and it is none of my business, but I was wondering . . . are you planning on seeing each other again after this?”
Just as Minerva was warming to the witch, she had to ask something like this. “Perhaps. We enjoy each other’s company. And he’s easy to talk to.”
“Yes, yes, he is. He seems fond of you, as well.”
Minerva began to blush, then remembered her Occlumency exercises. Calming herself, Minerva answered, “It would appear so. Friends usually are fond of each other.”
Gertrude twitched a slight smile. “Yes, they are. However, I need to tell you that I have not seen my nephew spend this much time with any one witch in years, not since Aileen died.”
Minerva’s Occlumency nearly failed. “Well, you do spend most of the year at Hogwarts, Gertrude. I doubt that I am as unusual as you seem to be suggesting.”
“Perhaps not . . . and I do I hope that you will both have a good time this evening. Have you found this holiday a nice break for you?” she asked, changing the subject.
“It has been interesting, as you said it might be. I think I would have preferred another look at the hill fort to the Quidditch game this morning, though.”
Gertie grinned. “You and I both. I hope that the other guests have treated you courteously.”
“With the exception of Valerianna, no one has been precisely discourteous. Although some of them were annoying without even trying, if that is not too impolite to say.”
Chuckling, Gertrude said, “That’s actually rather kind of you. And I do apologise for Valerianna’s behaviour, although I doubt there’s anything anyone could say to her that wouldn’t simply encourage her.”
“Speaking of Valerianna, Gertrude, I overheard her yesterday in the garden talking with Francis . . . I didn’t intentionally eavesdrop, but when I heard what she was saying, I did stop and listen.”
Gertrude’s eyebrows raised questioningly. “And?”
“She was saying something about giving me a tale to carry back to Albus – well, she didn’t use his name, but she must have been referring to him – and not wanting to wait to do something. Francis apparently agreed with whatever she was proposing. She seemed to think that I had somehow coerced you into inviting me here in order to do something to her – I couldn’t figure out what she thought my purpose here was, but in her mind, everything revolves around her.”
“I think you put your finger on it right there, Minerva. She does believe that everything revolves around her. I didn’t inform her that you would be here, and she took me to task for that, and she also implied that somehow you had cannily tricked me into inviting you for the week. It appears that my response did not convince her. You were the reason I invited you here, Minerva. I hope you do not think that I invited you this week merely to irritate Valerianna. There are many ways to irritate Valerianna, and, although your presence seems to be doing an admirable job of that, if I simply wished to irritate her, I would not involve you.”
“She presumed to imply to your face that you shouldn’t have invited me this week?” Minerva asked, appalled.
“Oh, she did presume, and she did more than just imply it. I did tell her that who was invited to the Gamp Estate was a matter for a Gamp to determine and that I required neither her permission nor her approval to invite a friend to spend a few days here. If she didn’t like it, she could leave.” Gertie grinned. “She didn’t appreciate that suggestion.”
“I would think not.” Minerva smiled back. “But aren’t you concerned about what she has planned?”
“I am concerned about you, naturally, but I think that anything that Valerianna has planned is likely to be a public spectacle, and I doubt we can avert that. As for you . . . keep an eye out for her. Don’t let her corner you, and she won’t have an opportunity to needle you.”
Gertrude’s words reminded her of Poppy’s hysterical letter. “Gertrude, the second letter that I received from Poppy was in response to a letter I had written to her. She warned me very strongly against being alone with Valerianna. She was practically hysterical. Do you know what that was about?”
“Poppy is a very loyal friend, Minerva. She was worried about you, no doubt.”
“Yes, but why? I didn’t even know who Valerianna was before you told me, let alone have any idea that I should avoid her. Why would Poppy be so vehement?”
“You will need to ask Poppy that question, Minerva. I am sure she was motivated by her concern and affection for you, however, just as was I when I told you about Valerianna that first morning you were here.”
Minerva was not entirely pleased with Gertrude’s answer, feeling that the older witch must know more than she was saying. “But why is Valerianna so obsessed with me, Gertrude? You are a friend of Albus’s, as well. If she dislikes me simply because she dislikes Albus’s friends after whatever happened between them a few years ago, shouldn’t she dislike you even more?”
“More?” Gertrude snorted. “Perhaps she does; I do not know. But we have known each other for many years, Minerva, and the dynamic is different, particularly since I am closer to her own age and my status, in her eyes, is rather different from yours.”
“Mmm. The other evening, she implied that I was some shrinking violet who had escaped the hectic life in London for the safety of Hogwarts, and she kept emphasising how young and inexperienced I am – or she believes me to be.”
Gertrude laughed out loud at that. “She was trying to get under your skin, Minerva. I am sure that she wasn’t even expressing her true opinion of you as much as she was trying to elicit a reaction from you. I assume that was the conversation that Quin interrupted before you two went upstairs together to . . . entertain yourselves.”
Minerva did blush at that. “Yes, it was. I don’t think I gave her satisfaction, however. I simply stated that, although Hogwarts is quite different from London, I had enjoyed my time in the city very much. She then started on about how much I must like old people at that point, I think. Anyway, she kept harping on my age. It was actually rather peculiar.”
“Did she,” Gertie said drily. “She must have been annoyed that Quin came along and took you away before she could find the right thing to say.”
“What do you mean, ‘the right thing’?”
“That thing which would have you lose your composure. She thinks that she knows what that would be, but she is operating with too little information. She doesn’t know you or your situation well enough. Eventually, she might have struck the right nerve – or the wrong one – just by fishing about.”
“You know, Gertie, I don’t think it’s only Valerianna who’s operating with too little information. I feel that she knows something I don’t – ”
“It is not what she knows, Minerva. It is what she presumes she knows.”
“But I still don’t understand why she feels the need to annoy me, or worse. It is clearly occupying a lot of her energy, given the conversation I overheard. Not to mention that she can’t help but stare at me during meals. What is it about me?”
Gertrude looked at her pensively. “Surely you must know, Minerva, that Albus thinks highly of you, that he values you a great deal. I have little doubt that he mentioned you to Valerianna, and very likely on several occasions, at least. Whatever it is he may have told her about you, she no doubt heard what she wanted to, or only what she believed he was saying, and fixated on something that is now driving this behaviour.”
“She called me a ‘kitten’ that first evening,” Minerva said, her brow furrowed in consternation. “I thought at the time she must have heard about my Animagus form, either from Albus or from you, and perhaps that she might know a few other details about me through her acquaintance with you, but I didn’t give it any further thought.”
“Mmm. I have told her little to nothing about you, Minerva, although she approached me more than once with poorly veiled questions about you . . . no, whatever Valerianna thinks she knows, she has made up for herself, pieced together from things Albus may have told her and perhaps from some information she was able to glean elsewhere.”
“I still don’t understand . . . .”
“Perhaps it’s best not to worry too much about it, Minerva,” Gertie said gently. “I think Poppy’s suggestion that you avoid her is well-meant, however.”
“That brings me back to my original question, though: why did Poppy warn me?”
“As I said, you will need to discuss that with her. No doubt she is concerned about you and is aware of Valerianna’s less-than-friendly demeanor.”
“Does she know that Albus and . . . that witch were seeing each other?”
“She was on the staff at that time, Minerva. Speaking of time, it is now time for me to begin dressing – and you, too, if you wish to be decently attired when Quin arrives to escort you to the party.”