Resolving a Misunderstanding

Minerva woke to the gentle chiming of her Tempus alarm a little more than an hour later. Feeling somewhat better for her nap, she called Blampa and asked her to bring a cold drink, then she unpacked her carpet bag, tossing most of its contents in the dirty laundry, but carefully placing her tea things on her vanity, Albus’s letters with them, and her tartan afghan at the foot of the bed. She stowed the empty bag in the bottom of her wardrobe and selected a fresh set of pale green robes. When Blampa returned with a tall glass of strawberry lemonade, Minerva asked her to take care of the laundry for her, but to touch nothing else.

Dressed, Minerva went out to her sitting room and reshelved the books that she’d barely glanced at during her visit to Cornwall. She sat on the settee and finished her lemonade. Now that she’d had her nap, she didn’t feel quite as bothered by Albus’s apparent desire to get her out of the castle. He’d clearly only been trying to encourage her to socialise with others and at the same time to reassure her that it would not be problematic if she were to stay at the castle if she wished. He had given her a lovely present, spent time having tea with her, promised her a copy of his photograph, and was going to return that afternoon to connect the landscape to her door portrait. And he had returned her embrace briefly. Minerva rose, sighing. Perhaps that had been a mistake. It was so much simpler to be at ease with Quin, whose touch meant so little to her, aside from imparting the warmth of friendship. But with Albus . . . between the somewhat peculiar history of their friendship and her own overly strong feelings for him, which she feared betraying, each touch and each embrace seemed dangerous to her, and each seemed to create a new vulnerability in her.

Minerva had not failed to notice the rather casual manner with which Albus took his leave, quite unlike his manner in the days before she had left for Cornwall, when he had invariably taken her hand, at least, in parting; he had even kissed her cheek the morning she had Portkeyed to the Gamps. But she had clearly placed too much value in those gestures, and she had to stop that. He was the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and she was one of his teachers. She certainly couldn’t expect him to shower her with gestures of affection; it would be inappropriate, even if they were friends.

Now she had to be off for Poppy’s sister’s. Minerva almost wished she had not agreed to the idea – or that she had put it off until Friday. It would have been nice to spend the afternoon at home after the last few rather hectic days. She put her small purse in one pocket and her wand in the other and set off for Hogsmeade and the Three Broomsticks.

She walked briskly and was soon entering the nearly empty pub. After dropping a few Knuts in the box on the mantle meant for that purpose, Minerva took a pinch of Floo-Powder from the jar next to it, tossed it into the low fire, then stepped in and said clearly, “The Hag’s Hump.” She hoped, somewhat belatedly, that there was only one Hag’s Hump on the Floo-Network and that she hadn’t had to say anything more specific to reach her destination.

It was a long Floo-trip, and Minerva closed her eyes against the dizzying flashes as other fireplaces whizzed by her. She stumbled a bit on arriving and held onto the side of the fireplace as she stepped out. Looking around her, Minerva decided that she was at the correct destination.

“You Minerva McGonagall?” came a deep voice from behind her.

She turned to see a short, dark-haired man wearing a striped apron over his grey and white robes.

“Yes, I am.”

“Violet said you’d be around this afternoon. When you leave here, go right, then take the first left into the narrow way. She’s the blue one at the end.”

“Thank you, Mister – ?”

“Billy, just call me Billy.”

“Thank you, Billy.”

Minerva easily found Violet’s small house in the little wizarding cul-de-sac and lifted the knocker to rap sharply on the front door. She smiled when Poppy opened the door to her.

“Minerva! So good you could come! Come in, come in!” Poppy opened the door more widely. “Violet brought the children to visit some friends, so we have the house to ourselves for the afternoon.”

She led her friend into a small, bright parlour. “Just give me a minute, and I’ll have some tea for us. I have some nice sandwiches and some little cakes, too. Have a seat, make yourself comfortable!”

“Can’t I help, Poppy?”

“Oh, no, everything’s set. I’ll just be a minute, Min!”

Minerva bit back her usual response to being called “Min” and sat down in a comfortable overstuffed chair. Poppy was back a few minutes later with a large tray holding sandwiches and the tea things.

“It needs to steep a few more minutes. Are you hungry? Would you like a sandwich? There’s fresh cheese and olive, and salmon with dill.”

“Yes, thanks. I took a nap instead of going to lunch.” Minerva helped herself to a sandwich of soft cheese on crusty bread. “Mmm, very good.”

Poppy poured them both tea, and after Minerva had eaten several bites of her sandwich, she said, “All right, Poppy. I believe you have some explaining to do.”

“Yes,” Poppy replied uncomfortably. “I suppose so.”

“That letter you sent me. You obviously know who Valerianna Yaxley is. And you warned me to stay away from her. I will tell you why that was probably good advice, although I didn’t succeed in following it, if you tell me why you gave me that advice.”

“Oh, dear. She said something to you.”

“Yes, she did, but I think I’ll make better sense of it after you tell me why you warned me about her.”

“You said that Gertrude had told you something about her, so before I tell you about Valerianna, and what I know, I need to tell you that I wrote Gertie to find out what she’d told you already and to, well, to tell her that, if you asked me, I was going to tell you whatever she hadn’t. She thought that was a good idea.”

“You discussed this with Gertie?” Minerva was slightly put out.

“You need to know the whole story before you start getting upset with me, Minerva. There’s a very good reason I never mentioned Yaxley to you, and not only because I never dreamed you would meet her. You’ll understand that. For all I knew before I got your letter, you may have even known something about her from Albus.”

“All right, go ahead. I’m listening, Poppy.” Minerva settled back with her cup of tea.

“Well, Minerva, it’s complicated. I know that you are aware that Albus had been seeing Valerianna on a social basis. She was on the Hogwarts Board of Governors at the time, probably only because she wanted a reason to be able to see him more frequently. I wasn’t there at the time they started seeing each other, but I understand that it started simply enough – there were functions they both were attending, so they’d go together, then she began to have him escort her to parties. Eventually, they were . . . seen as a couple, I suppose one could say, and, well, you can imagine how it proceeded from there.

“I’d just come on staff a couple weeks before, so I didn’t know much more than that Albus was apparently seeing some witch. Gertrude came to me one morning. It was about this time of year, actually. She asked me if I were loyal to the Deputy Headmaster. It was an odd question, and I was confused, but of course I said I was. She just nodded and told me to come to her rooms for a meeting that evening.

“To make a long story short, I arrived to find Gertie, Wilhelmina, Professor MacAirt, and Madam Perlecta all there. They were . . . conspiring. On behalf of Albus, or for his benefit, I suppose you could say. Gertie filled me in. She said that Albus had been seeing a witch named Valerianna Yaxley and that she was bad news. She had tried to warn Albus about the witch, but for some reason, Albus didn’t listen to her – in fact, Gertie seemed to think it had just made him more determined to give the witch a chance, so she stopped trying to tell him anything. I was hesitant to get involved at first. I didn’t know Valerianna, after all, except by name, and Albus – he’s Albus Dumbledore. Surely he should be able to see whomever he wanted. But then Gertrude said that Valerianna had been seeing other wizards, all the while telling Albus that he was the only one. Gertrude was convinced that Valerianna was going to try to get Albus to marry her; she said that even if he didn’t, that eventually he would be hurt by this witch, and that it was better that he learn the truth about her sooner rather than later.”

Poppy sighed. “Of course, I asked whether she couldn’t just tell Albus about the other wizards, but Gertie convinced me that Albus would not listen to her, and that he had to learn about the witch’s duplicity first-hand in order to believe it.” She shook her head. “Gertie had spent two months learning about what that woman was up to. She was convinced that Valerianna would invite a wizard to spend the afternoon with her just before she was to see Albus. It fit a pattern.

“Albus had taken over some of the Headmaster’s duties, since Dippet was ill again, and there was a final staff meeting set for the next afternoon. Albus had a . . . date scheduled with Valerianna for that evening. They were meeting at a cottage of his. It was a Friday. Gertie was concerned because Albus was planning on being away for the whole weekend. She was worried that Valerianna was going to use the opportunity to get Albus to propose. I thought it seemed unlikely, and rather fast, but the other witches supported Gertie’s interpretation.

“What really convinced me to help them, though, was that Gertie was sure that Valerianna was going to bring another wizard with her to the cottage that afternoon and then just get rid of him before Albus arrived. Gertrude wanted to arrange for Albus to get there early and find them together. She said that if Valerianna wasn’t up to anything, it wouldn’t hurt for him to arrive early, and if she was, well, Albus would have his eyes opened.”

Minerva interrupted. “Why didn’t she just tell him about Valerianna? I don’t understand that – they’re good friends. They have been for years. Why would she want to expose him to such a thing?”

“She had tried, and he’d become angry with her. I know he doesn’t tend to get angry often, but I believed Gertie, and there was some reason he wouldn’t listen to her. I don’t know what it was, but he probably would have just told Gertie that she was slandering Valerianna. You had to be there, Minerva. Anyway, she asked for my help as the Hogwarts matron. She wanted to have the afternoon staff meeting cancelled so that Albus would leave early for his date. But it had to be for a very good reason. Minerva, you must never repeat what I’m about to tell you, please. I could lose my position. Not just this one, but any work as a mediwitch anywhere ever again. Albus knows, or he must know, although he’s not said anything to me about it directly.”

“What? What did you do?”

“I made about half the staff sick. Very sick. We decided on the illness – something acute and nasty that I could induce and then treat easily. I pointed out that it would appear odd if only female staff members became ill, so Gertrude persuaded Slughorn to participate, without telling him why, but she called in every favour he owed her. Hagrid was easily convinced. Wilhelmina only had to tell him that it would help Albus, and he was willing. Our third male victim was Johannes, who disliked Valerianna intensely, and he knew why we were doing it without even being told. He’s a sharp one.

“I made everyone sick, even myself, mildly, and had us all have various degrees of the illness. Poor Sluggy was the worst off, and he was clueless about why he was submitting to it at the time, although he must have figured it out later. Anyway, with everyone so ill, Albus, as predicted, cancelled the staff meeting and left early for his cottage. He was back in less than an hour, looking like a thundercloud. He barely exchanged two words with anyone for days. Finally a little over a week later, he came to see me. He asked me if I’d had any trouble treating the staff who had all so coincidentally become ill at the same time. What could I say? He said he wished to thank me for the good care I had taken of them. He never mentioned it again. Gertie told me that he had apologised to her and told her that he had walked in on Valerianna and another wizard . . . in his own cottage. She never said what he’d walked in on, but it must not have been pleasant.”

Minerva just sat there in shock. She opened her mouth, but she didn’t know what to say, what to ask.

“That wasn’t the end of it, though, Minerva. I wasn’t present, but apparently Valerianna arrived at Hogwarts an hour early for the next Board of Governors meeting. I don’t know what happened, precisely, but someone told me that Valerianna tried to see Albus, and when he wouldn’t meet with her alone, she left the castle, shouting some nastiness, and then she resigned from the Board of Governors.”

“Poor Albus.” Minerva finally found her voice.

“Yes, but he was lucky, I think. From what Gertie said, Valerianna had turned on all her charm and wit. I don’t know how well Albus actually liked the witch, but she was gradually worming her way into his life. I think he would have eventually clued into her true character, but who knows how much more he would have invested in her before that happened, or how much more he may have been hurt. As it was, it must have been very embarrassing for him, particularly being aware that almost half the staff must have known something about it.”

“That must be why Gertie didn’t tell me more . . . it must be an uncomfortable thing to know, let alone to tell someone,” Minerva said.

“Probably. I also think it was better if you heard the whole thing from me. We have been friends a long time. She probably also didn’t want to mention my part in the plot, either. It was something none of us mentioned again once it was over. We never made a promise of secrecy, but it was just understood that it was something we didn’t talk about. This was Albus, after all.”

After a few moments of silence, Poppy said, “Let me get you some fresh tea, Min.”

She returned with a fresh pot and fixed Minerva another cup.

Minerva mechanically took a sip of the steaming liquid, then put the cup down, waiting for the tea to cool. It was even more of a puzzle to her now what Albus had been doing with the Yaxley witch, and Gertie’s motives were murky, as well. And why hadn’t Albus listened to Gertie? It would have saved him a good deal of pain and embarrassment.

“Why do you suppose Gertie did what she did? I understand that Albus wouldn’t listen to her, but there must have been some other way – as you said, he would have eventually discovered her true nature. . . .”

“If Gertie was correct and Valerianna was going to use this weekend to try to get him to propose, it would have been a turning point. Anything after that would have been worse. He was only learning what he would have eventually, and if Valerianna were lucky, it may have been too late – or even if it weren’t, can you imagine his embarrassment if they announced the engagement and then he found out and called it off? This way, only a few people really know what happened – I don’t even know all the details. We avoided a public embarrassment for Albus. The Prophet would have been all over it.”

“But what was Gertie’s motivation? If it didn’t turn out as she had thought it would, she could have alienated Albus.”

Poppy shook her head at Minerva. “She’s his friend, Minerva. She cares about him. I’ve always had the impression you don’t really like her, but she has been a good friend to Albus; surely, you can appreciate that! She got nothing out of it but the satisfaction of keeping Albus out of that nasty woman’s clutches. And, of course, his apology for not listening to her earlier.”

“Hmmpf. I suppose.” Minerva remembered Gertie’s foolish, stubborn insistence on playing Beater even after being knocked from her broom. She supposed it was possible she only wanted to keep him from getting himself in deeper with Valerianna. He had saved her son’s life, after all, and he was close enough to the family to have Robert call him “Uncle Albus.”

She drank some tea, then said, “That witch is really dreadful, Poppy. She was merely rude and catty at first, but then she made a scene at Walburga and Orion’s engagement party by announcing her own engagement to Francis Flint.”

“She didn’t!” Poppy exclaimed.

“She did. I actually felt sorry for Flint, and I don’t even like him.”

“Wasn’t he at Hogwarts with us? Kind of skinny Slytherin? Your year, I think?”

“No, he was two years ahead of me. I actually still can’t remember him, even after he reminded me who he was.”

“He was pretty unremarkable. But isn’t he . . . a bit young for her? She’s got to be in her early seventies, at least.”

“You’re the one who was encouraging Melina to continue seeing Brennan,” Minerva said.

“Yes, but this is a bigger age difference, and, well, Valerianna might still be able to have children for a few more years, but if Francis wants any, they’ll have to move fast. If she’s even still fertile.”

“I really don’t want to speculate about the state of that woman’s fertility,” Minerva said, making a face, “although I admit that the same thought did occur to me, actually.”

Poppy let Minerva drink some more tea, then said, “So you were going to tell me about why my advice to avoid her was good – and I hope you have a good reason for not following it!”

“She really was awful, Poppy. After she announced the engagement – staring at me the whole time, as though I would care – I thought that was the last I’d seen of her. But then she sent Flint over to ask me to dance.”

“She didn’t!”

“She did.”

“You didn’t, did you?”

“I did. I felt sorry for him, a little, and I was curious as to why she’d have him ask me to dance. I wanted to see what would happen.”

“Oh, Minerva!” Poppy groaned.

“It wasn’t so bad, except for his sweaty hands. He told me that Valerianna wanted an excuse to have Quin dance with her.”

“I don’t know Quin, but I feel sorry for him already.”

“I decided he was a big boy and could take care of himself.”

“So what was she up to?”

“A little while later, Quin went to get me something to drink. I stepped out onto the balcony for some fresh air. Valerianna followed me out. She was nasty and vicious, Poppy. I still don’t really understand what she was going on about, although now I understand better why she was so vituperative.”

“What did she say?”

“Oh, after telling me that Quin was off looking for a willing witch and implying that I’m a repressed old maid, she spewed a lot of rubbish about Albus. And about me. As though somehow Albus requires sycophantic followers and I was one of them. And she went on about how old Albus is, and how she had been ‘too much witch’ for him. Things like that. They sounded nastier coming out of her mouth.”

“It sounds nasty enough now. But why did she want you to dance with Flint – or, more to the point, why did she want to dance with Quin?”

Minerva laughed. “Would you believe she propositioned Quin?”

“What? But hadn’t she just announced her engagement? Or was that before the announcement?”

“Oh, no, she had already announced it. Quin said that she seemed to think he’d be more enticed by the fact that she was engaged. ‘Titillated’ was the word he used. Obviously, he didn’t take her up on it.”

“Is she attractive?”

“She’s all right. She has a nice figure, I suppose.” Minerva shrugged.

“I suppose if she is witty and amusing, the nice figure is icing on the cake for a wizard,” Poppy pondered.

“I would guess so.” Minerva was tired of thinking about Valerianna. She certainly didn’t want to talk about her anymore. She let out a groan. No wonder Albus had just sat there while she fished around, asking him if he knew Valerianna well. “Oh, Poppy, poor Albus.”

“I know. It could have been worse, though.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean that I brought Valerianna up in conversation this morning after I returned to the castle. We were having tea in my sitting room. I asked about her. It must have made him very uncomfortable.”

“No doubt it did, but you couldn’t have known.”

“I knew enough, Poppy. I knew that he’d dumped her, that she’s a nasty piece of work, that he didn’t want to talk about her . . . but I just kept going on about her, asking him if he knew her well, telling him about the engagement announcement – which, no doubt, was precisely what Valerianna wanted me to do – and just basically making him uncomfortable.”

“Well, it has been a few years. He should be over it. And you are friends, after all. On the other hand, I don’t suppose he could very well have said, ‘Oh, yes, Minerva, I dated the lovely witch for several months, after which I stopped seeing her because I caught her entertaining another wizard in my own cottage. How interesting you should mention her!’”

“That’s just what I mean, Poppy. I should have left the subject alone when it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it. He must find it embarrassing still. I don’t like talking about Jean-Paul, after all, and that was only embarrassing because he was dull and . . . dull. And a dreadful lover.”

“And why don’t you ever talk about Rudolf? He wasn’t dull, from what you said, and you never said what kind of lover he was, but when I met him when I visited you – he seems to possess a great deal of energy, anyway. Not that that necessarily means anything, of course. But you don’t ever mention him, and you were together for at least a year.”

“That’s different, Poppy. I’m not embarrassed about having been with him . . . not exactly. It’s just because he did mean something to me, and I hurt him. I’m sure that Albus is the injured party here – and I never did anything to Rudolf to compare with what Valerianna did to Albus. I just couldn’t stay with him. There’s a big difference.”

“I know, but you’d survive if Albus brought up one of their names, that’s all I mean. You may not want to discuss them with him, but you’d just change the topic and then get over it.”

“I suppose you’re right. It just irks me that I played right into her hands, telling him about her engagement announcement as I did.”

“I’m sure it’s in the Prophet, though. It would have to be. I haven’t looked at it yet today, but Violet must have a copy somewhere.” She got up and crossed the room to a small table by the door. “Yes, here it is.” She flipped through to the society pages. “Yes, here, ‘At the engagement party for Walburga Black and Orion Black at the Gamp Estate, yet another engagement was announced, much to the surprise of the assembled guests,’” Poppy read. “It goes on to describe the general tastelessness of the gesture, but ends by congratulating both couples and wishing them well!”

She held out the paper. “You want to read it?”

“No, seeing it in person was sufficient. And I’m not surprised that the Prophet points out the tastelessness of the announcement only to follow it by congratulations. Trying not to alienate anyone and probably still managing to displease everyone involved, particularly Walburga and Orion, whose engagement party was once again upstaged by Valerianna’s announcement.”

“My point is that Albus would have heard the news, anyway, whether from the newspaper or from someone else.”

“Perhaps,” Minerva said. “But somehow I think she believed it would be worse for him coming from me. She certainly was obsessed by me. And she seemed to think I’m something special to him.”

“You are, Minerva. We had this conversation last week, if you remember.”

“Yes . . . .” Minerva sighed. “Would you mind giving my greetings to Violet, Poppy? I think I’d like to get back now. It’s been a long week.”

“Of course, but aren’t you going to tell me about Quin? He sounded rather nice.” Poppy grinned.

“Oh. Quin. He is nice. Yes. His son is going to be a first-year in September.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all. We’re friends, he’s nice, his son is going to be a student. There’s nothing more to say. Well, his son has an interesting talent, but until I’ve talked more to Albus and to his father about it, I shouldn’t say any more than that.”

“Lovely! Do you always tease people by telling them only half the story?”

Minerva quirked half a grin. “Must be the company I’ve been keeping recently. I’ll stay in touch. And you, too. I’m just tired – it’s been a long week.”

“All right, Minerva.” Poppy stood, smiling. “I’ll walk you to the Hag’s Hump – or are you going to Apparate?”

“I’m a bit tired. I think I’ll just Floo to the Three Broomsticks.”

The two women walked together to the Hag’s Hump, Poppy telling Minerva about how much her niece and nephew had grown since she’d seen them last. When they got to the pub, Poppy said, “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a drink?”

“No, I want to get back. Thanks for tea, Poppy. And for the information.” Minerva gave Poppy a hug. “You’re a good friend.”

“Of course, Minerva. Anything for you. I’m glad you could come.”

“Are you doing anything for your birthday next week? I thought we might be able to get together, if you like.”

“I’ll be at my grandmother’s, and I think they are planning on having a family gathering for lunch at her house – ”

“Well, when you know what they’re doing, let me know. If it’s lunch, I’ll take you to dinner, if it’s dinner, I’ll take you to lunch – or we could celebrate the next day.”

“That would be lovely, Minerva. I’d like that a lot. Are you going to do the same for Albus on his birthday?”

“What? Is his birthday coming up, too?”

“On the first. I don’t think he usually celebrates it, but I’m not usually at Hogwarts during August.”

“And you know because – ?”

“Because I’m the Hogwarts matron, of course. You didn’t know when his birthday is? Of course, I may be wrong, but I don’t think many people do. So, are you going to bring him to lunch?”

“I don’t know, Poppy. I didn’t even know when it was until today. I’m sure he has better things planned than lunch with his Transfiguration teacher.”

“Mmm, I wouldn’t say that, Minerva. You’re friends; this would be another opportunity to get closer to Albus.”

There was that word again. Why did Poppy keep insisting that she and Albus were becoming closer? Minerva shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ll think about it. If I’m at Hogwarts at the time, maybe I will do something.”

Minerva deposited two Knuts in the Floo-Powder box and Flooed away to Hogsmeade and the Three Broomsticks.

Before returning to the castle, Minerva stopped into Scrivenshaft’s and purchased some royal purple ink in an ornate, reusable inkpot, and a fancy autorefilling quill with a very plumy purple feather. She had the shopkeeper wrap them in a gift box for her. It wasn’t very personal, but she knew Albus liked that particular ink colour, and he’d been so generous to her recently, she didn’t want to wait until she found exactly the right gift before getting him something. She might find something special for his birthday. Hopefully, he would take this as the gesture she meant it to be – one of friendship and gratitude. Minerva felt especially bad after learning what she had about his relationship with Valerianna. Albus was by no means frail, nor was he prideful, but he still must have found it a blow to his ego to have that witch playing him for a fool. And she had unintentionally brought it all back up for him. She hoped that Albus would trust her enough to talk to her about it, but she understood why it could be uncomfortable for him.

Minerva walked through the village and started up to the castle gates, carefully carrying her package. She hoped Albus would like her little present. It would be dinnertime soon, and she could give it to him afterward, she thought with a smile.

As she walked the long path up to Hogwarts, Minerva thought about what she’d learned from Poppy that afternoon. It sounded to her as though Albus had been somewhat willfully blind to Valerianna’s faults, perhaps in reaction to Gertie’s attempts to warn him about them. Minerva knew that men could be foolish like that, but she hadn’t thought that Albus would be in that category. But perhaps it hadn’t been the warnings he had been ignoring, but Gertie herself. He had always asserted that Gertie was a good friend, and scarcely a visit to Minerva had gone by when he hadn’t mentioned her in one context or another, but perhaps Albus had some reason not to trust what she had to say on the subject of Valerianna. Minerva felt uneasy. Could it have been that she had been warning Albus against Valerianna not simply because she was a nasty, duplicitous wizard-eater, but because she wanted Albus to herself? Even if they were only friends, it was possible that Gertie had been jealous of the other witch. But if that were the case, why weren’t they together now? Although she had no proof one way or the other – it was possible she and Albus were together – after all, they spent a lot of time together as Headmaster and Deputy, and no one would necessarily know whether they were meeting on business or for some personal reason. Whatever gratitude Minerva felt toward Gertie for saving him from Valerianna was tempered with doubts about the older witch’s motivations in doing so.

Minerva walked through the gates, determined not to speculate any further on the matter. The Headmaster’s relationship with Gertrude was none of her business. She would look forward to giving Albus her little thank-you gift and spending some time with him over the next few days. She picked up her pace at the cheerful thought that she had rest of the summer to spend time with Albus and establish a solid friendship with him. That was certainly something to look forward to.

Albus was distracted at lunch, barely paying any attention to the peculiar three-way conversation between Wilhelmina, Johannes, and Hagrid. He had a feeling there was something going on with Hagrid, as Minerva had observed, but Albus was more concerned with something else at the moment.

Minerva had certainly seemed pleased to see him, and happy with her surprise, as well, but he had sensed a change in her as they were talking over their tea. She had brought up Valerianna’s name, and after she had mentioned Valerianna’s engagement, she continued to ask about her, whether he knew her. And his answer . . . was true as far as it went. He should have told her something more. He wouldn’t have had to go into great detail, but if she had heard something about how he had been courting Valerianna, his evasion would certainly seem odd to her. And who knew what Valerianna had told her. Albus didn’t know why he should be so reluctant to tell Minerva of the embarrassing incident. She would certainly be understanding and sympathetic. But somehow telling Minerva seemed impossible; he knew that he would never have a romantic relationship with her, but he still couldn’t bear having her look at him as a pathetic old man who’d been played for a fool.

Albus stood and left the table, his meal only half-eaten. He started up to his office, but changed his mind and turned around and went out the main doors. He hadn’t been out for a walk in the forest for a while. He wanted to check on Aragog and his many offspring. Hagrid kept an eye on him, “paid him visits,” as he put it, but Albus had cast a ward designed to keep Aragog confined to one section of the forest, and it needed refreshing occasionally.

An hour later, feeling refreshed himself after his walk, resetting Aragog’s ward, and a brief, yet civil, visit with Magorian, Albus returned to the castle. He went directly to Minerva’s rooms and was just about to give the password when the Silent Knight bowed to him.

“Good sir, my lady is not within.”

Peculiar. The Knight hadn’t spoken to him on any previous visit, even on other occasions when Minerva wasn’t present.

“I am aware of that. Alvarium album,” Albus said, giving the password. The door clicked and Albus pulled it open. “I will be connecting a new painting to your portrait. Your dog, Fidelio, will have access to it. You are to ensure that no other portraits attempt to gain access to the new landscape, with the exception of any headmaster or headmistress portraits, of course,” he added.

The Silent Knight bowed again and drew his sword. “I will defend the lady with my very life, sir.”

“I doubt that will be necessary,” Albus said, amused. “But your loyalty is appreciated.”

Albus first prepared the painting in the bedroom, then returned to the portrait and cast a few more charms before completing his work on the landscape. He spent a couple more minutes connecting the painting in the sitting room to the one in the bedroom so that the dog could move freely between them, as well.

Stepping back through the door for a moment, Albus asked the Knight to send Fidelio through to the bedroom, then he reentered the bedroom himself and was pleased to be greeted by the cheerfully barking dog sitting in the foreground of the painting, his tail thumping enthusiastically. Albus clapped his hands. “Good boy! Good dog! You can go back to your master now!”

He hadn’t been sure how quickly the dog could find the new painting, since he was not a conventional portrait of a person. Animals could be tricky to work with. Minerva would be pleased. Now he had to make a copy of the photograph he had promised her; he could do that over the weekend. Albus looked over at the vanity and Minerva’s collection of photographs. He thought she had been pleased by the offer, but perhaps she was only being polite. But then, looking at the carefully framed picture of him, clipped from a newspaper so many years ago, he decided that Minerva had been genuinely pleased. Her mug and what was left of the tea and honey were sitting on the vanity, as well, and it looked as though the letters he had written her were tucked beneath them. She must have unpacked before leaving for Wales. Just as he left the room, Albus turned and looked back. The tartan afghan he had given Minerva when she moved into the castle was neatly folded at the foot of her bed. He was fairly sure it hadn’t been there earlier, when he’d hung the landscape that morning. Had she brought that with her to Cornwall? Brought a little piece of home with her? He smiled. How sweet that the afghan he had given her gave her some comfort.

Albus returned to his office to finish some work before dinner. When he saw Minerva at dinner, he would tell her that he had connected the landscape to her portrait. The thought of seeing her again made him uncomfortable. What if she brought up Valerianna’s name again? When he had finally had the time to read the Prophet just before lunch, he had seen that Valerianna’s performance the night before had not gone unnoticed by the press.

Albus set down his quill with a deep sigh. He would thank Gertie again for having forced him to confront the true Valerianna Yaxley, except he didn’t want to bring it up again. It was bad enough to have heard her name from Minerva’s lips that morning. It made him wonder what Valerianna had said to Minerva, what she knew about the affair, and whether she knew what had happened between them at the end, and if she had lost her respect for him as a result. Just when their friendship had begun to warm up, Minerva had to learn about his foolishness. Although it was possible that she had heard about it before; it was conceivable that one of her friends on the staff had already told her about it, or that she had learned of it even before she had joined the staff.

He and Gertie hadn’t spoken of it in almost three years. Albus held his head in his hands. He had behaved dreadfully to Gertie when she had tried to warn him about her late husband’s cousin. The final attempt she’d made to speak to him about it, when she had tried to tell him gently that Valerianna had an agenda and wasn’t interested in him as a wizard, but only wanted something from him, had resulted in him turning on her angrily and telling her that she had no right to tell him with whom he could and could not socialise, that it was not her place. And, angry as he was, the sudden tears in his normally stoic friend’s eyes had done nothing to soften him toward her. Gertie had just gritted her teeth, nodded, and left his quarters without another word. The next day, she behaved as though nothing had happened between them, though she was quieter than usual with him. Their relationship had been strained, but he found that Gertie had not held his harsh words against him, and when she hadn’t raised Valerianna’s name again, Albus thought Gertie had let the entire matter go. But she hadn’t. And Albus was very glad she hadn’t. Who knew what the Daily Prophet would have printed if he had discovered this in some more public way. As it was, Albus was still astounded that the press hadn’t caught wind of it and published some little blurb in the column devoted to such things – to public humiliation, in particular.

When Albus had finally gone to see Gertrude, two days after finding Valerianna as he had, she had been the first to speak. He had gone to apologise to her, but she had taken his hands in hers and said, “I’m so sorry, Albus. So sorry. I wish I had been wrong.”

Oddly, he hadn’t wished Gertie had been wrong – not that he wouldn’t have preferred to have been spared that final scene, of course. For all that he had enjoyed spending time with Valerianna, at least initially, he still hadn’t truly been able to warm up to her. He actually had believed that that weekend would provide him the opportunity to warm up to her and to warm her up to him. Instead, their relationship had gone from tepid to icy in seconds. With, of course, the intervening heat of his blazing anger.

“Wilspy!”

“I serve!” Wilspy said as she popped into his office.

“Wilspy, I have a headache.”

“Hot tea and Headache Potion, Professor Dumbledore, sir?”

Albus smiled. “Let’s start with the hot tea and see if that fixes all my ills, first. Thank you, Wilspy.”

Wilspy frowned. “You is ill, Professor Dumbledore?”

“No, no, it was just a figure of speech, Wilspy. You may fetch the tea now.”

A few minutes later, Wilspy reappeared with a pot of tea, a small pitcher of milk, and a container of honey. There was also a small vial of Headache Potion.

“Thank you, Wilspy.”

“Professor Dumbledore, can I serve Professor more? You is sad.”

“No, not sad, Wilspy. Just old and tired,” Albus said patiently.

“You is not old, Professor,” Wilspy said, shaking her head at him, sounding as though she were scolding a small boy. “You drink good tea, then see Professor’s nice Professor Minerva, and you feel all better.”

“Hmm? Minerva has gone to visit a friend for the afternoon, Wilspy.”

“She is coming back now, Professor. You feel better after tea and seeing your Professor Minerva.”

“I will see her at dinner, no doubt. Thank you for the tea, Wilspy. That will be all.”

“Okey-dokey, Professor! You see your Professor Minerva, you feel all better!” Then the little elf popped away.

Albus shook his head. Foolish little house-elf. He sipped his tea, then finally gave in and downed the Headache Potion. He would see Minerva – briefly – at dinner. He would not monopolise her time. He would see her, “feel better,” as Wilspy had put it, then retire early. Maybe read the book he had borrowed from her. That would be a pleasant way to end the day.