Resolving a Misunderstanding

Minerva walked more briskly as she approached the castle’s large front doors, looking forward to seeing Albus and giving him his present. Dinner would be served in the staff room in less than a half hour. She would wait for him there; as much as she was looking forward to seeing whether Albus had found the time to connect the new landscape painting to her door portrait. Unless he’d been interrupted by something of vital importance, Minerva thought he would have done it as he had promised. And if he hadn’t been able to, she wouldn’t pout like a child.

Picking up a two-month-old copy of Spellcrafter’s Digest, Minerva settled down in one of the large armchairs in the far corner of the room, putting her feet up on a small stool. She held Albus’s present in her lap. Albus was usually on time for dinner because he didn’t like keeping everyone waiting for him to arrive. Minerva hoped he would be early that evening; she might be able to give him his little gift before dinner, if he were, although she didn’t want an audience. Ten minutes later, that hope disappeared as Johannes and Wilhelmina came in together. They both greeted her and asked her where she’d been the last few days. When Minerva told them she had been at the Gamps, they immediately wanted to know about Valerianna and her announcement, Johannes throwing a glance toward the door.

Minerva described Valerianna’s performance, how she had dragged a reluctant Francis Flint out in front of everyone, including a baffled Gropius, and how the guests had been shocked and Flint embarrassed.

“I hope she was embarrassed, as well,” said Wilhelmina. “She’s one foul character.”

“I got the impression she was more angry than embarrassed, although I didn’t talk with her about it, of course. But that was what Flint implied.”

“You talked to Francis?” Wilhelmina shook her head. “He was never particularly independent when he was a student, but I wouldn’t have thought him to be the type to be pulled into Valerianna’s orbit, either.”

“It sounded to me as though he hadn’t been sure they were even going to be engaged, actually, and she just declared it by fiat, and it was so,” Minerva responded. She remembered that Wilhelmina and Johannes had both been involved in the conspiracy to help Albus, and thought they were probably more interested in the subject because of that. She considered telling them about Valerianna’s failed attempt to seduce Quin right after announcing the engagement, but decided that such gossip was beneath her. If Albus asked her about it, though, she would tell him whatever he wanted to know.

“That sounds like Valerianna,” Johannes remarked.

“I’d say I hope she is miserable in her marriage, but that would mean wishing the same on Francis,” Wilhelmina added.

“Yes, well, I had my fill of the witch over the last few days, so why don’t we discuss something more pleasant? How are your plans proceeding, Wilhelmina? Have you made arrangements with the sanctuary yet?” Minerva asked, not wanting Albus to walk in and find them all discussing one of his least favourite people.

Wilhelmina updated Minerva on her current plans; she had arranged with the dragon sanctuary to begin work on the twentieth of December. “It’s a bit late in the year, but that way I can get through the entire semester, finish all my grading, and hopefully even spend some time with the new teacher to help make the transition smoother.”

“I will keep that in mind when we interview candidates,” Minerva said.

“You’re helping with that?” Wilhelmina asked.

“Yes, the Headmaster asked me to lend a hand with it. Gertie’s in Cornwall, and he’s very busy, so I was happy to help with it. Of course, it won’t be my decision, but I can weed out the obviously unsuitable candidates.”

They talked for a few minutes about the changes the upcoming year would bring to Hogwarts, then Hagrid arrived, mumbled a greeting, and sat down at the table waiting for dinner to be served. Minerva got up and moved to sit next to him, hoping that the chair on her other side would remain empty for Albus. Wilhelmina sat across from Hagrid and Johannes sat next to her, across from Minerva. A few moments later, Albus bustled into the staff room.

“I’m sorry if I am late!” he said, taking a seat next to Wilhelmina. Their dinner appeared promptly.

“You’re not late, Albus,” Johannes answered. “You’re a little early, in fact. And I do not complain about that, if they feed us early, too!”

Minerva wanted to talk to Albus, but it was awkward with the others sitting between them, so she just joined the general conversation flowing around her, adding a word or two at appropriate moments, but not paying very much attention to it. Beside her, Hagrid was even more monosyllabic. It appeared that whatever had been bothering him before she’d left for the Gamps had not improved much in the meantime. She suspected that Wilhelmina’s early morning visit to him was connected to his persistently melancholy mood; perhaps she had noticed, too, and had gone down to try to get him to talk to her about it. But, just as Hagrid had insisted to her that there was nothing wrong, it appeared he wouldn’t talk to Wilhelmina about it, either. Minerva took some pudding even though she didn’t really want it, since she wanted to catch Albus before he headed back to his tower.

Albus pushed away from the table and said good-night to everyone, then turned to Minerva and said, “I finished up with your door portrait this afternoon, Professor McGonagall.”

Minerva stood. “Thank you. May I speak with you a minute?”

“Of course, my dear. Are you free in the morning? We could meet for a few minutes then.”

“Oh, it’s not that sort of thing,” she answered, reaching for the bag she’d put under her chair. “I just wanted a minute this evening, if you could.”

“Certainly. I will walk you to your rooms, then, and we can talk on the way – we can even test the portrait,” he said with a smile.

Minerva followed him out of the staff room and started up the stairs next to him.

“Can you come in for a few minutes, Albus? We could test the portrait and we can talk for a while.”

“Oh, my dear, you certainly don’t want to entertain me twice in one day. After your long day yesterday, and your outing today, I’m sure you would like a quiet evening.”

“Albus, if you would rather not, please just tell me. I will be disappointed, but I’ll live.”

“No, no, I would like to, Minerva. Of course . . . I was just thinking of you.”

“If I didn’t want to invite you in, I would not have. I know that we spent a good deal of time together before my holiday, and I will understand if we aren’t able to do the same in the future because you are busy – or because you are tired or just want to be alone – but I hope that you will tell me that. I don’t want you to feel obligated to spend time with me if you don’t want to, but I’d rather you just told me.” Minerva was surprised by her own frankness, but after all the events of the last week, particularly the conversation in which she’d told Albus that she would express herself to him before she became as distressed as she had in Poppy’s office, she saw no point in mincing words. She would certainly be disappointed if he didn’t want to come in, whatever the reason, but she’d rather he were honest about it than make excuses.

“I can come in for a few minutes, Minerva. But you must shoo me out if you become tired!” He smiled at her, eyes twinkling.

They reached her door, and Albus suggested, “You go on in to your bedroom, and I’ll knock.”

Minerva let herself in and went into her bedroom. A moment later, Fidelio was standing in the landscape, barking cheerfully. Minerva laughed. “Good boy, Fidelio!”

She let Albus into the sitting room. “He came through, looking quite pleased with himself, Albus. Thank you!”

“Oh, it was nothing, just a few minutes and a little wand-waving,” he said, but he looked pleased that Minerva appreciated his gift.

“I have a little something for you, Albus. A little ‘thank-you’ for everything you’ve done for me lately.”

“That was hardly necessary, Minerva.”

“Well, as you said when you gave me that lovely gift before I left for the Gamps, that’s why it’s a surprise. I hope you like it.”

“Thank you, my dear. Shall I open it now?”

“Yes – go ahead. It’s nothing special . . . but I hoped you might like it.”

“As you told me earlier, if it is from you, it is special,” he said, smiling.

Albus put the package on the table and carefully unwrapped the brown paper to reveal a purple cardboard box with “Scrivenshaft’s” written in ornate white letters. Smiling, he took the top off the box.

“Lovely, my dear! This is my favourite ink. And a lovely new matching quill to go with it.” He turned to face her. “Thank you. It is most thoughtful of you.”

“I thought it was something you might use and enjoy.” Minerva smiled. “I hope you do enjoy it.”

“I am sure I will, my dear. I will try it tonight.”

“Would you like something to drink, Albus?”

“No, thank you. I really should be going, Minerva.”

“Oh, all right.” Minerva was disappointed, but she had said that he must simply be honest with her, after all. “Perhaps tomorrow?”

“Perhaps. We will see. We did get a few applications for Wilhelmina’s position; you could come by and take a look at them, if you like.”

“Of course. Good night, Albus.”

“Good night, my dear. I hope you sleep well.”

Minerva nodded and opened the door for him. He left with a smile and another “good night.” Minerva closed the door behind him. She felt inexplicably disappointed. It wasn’t as though she’d had any plans for the evening, but she had hoped they could sit and talk for a while. Now she felt at loose ends. She looked at her bookshelves, but saw nothing that caught her interest.

With a casual wave of her wand, Minerva cleared away the brown paper Albus’s gift had been wrapped in, then looked out the window, which gave her a thin slice of a view of the lawns leading out to the Quidditch pitch. Hagrid was walking in the direction of the gates, Brutus, his old boarhound, at his side. Perhaps he was just checking the gates, but more likely, he was going into the Hog’s Head for a drink. Minerva felt guilty. She should have paid more attention to him during dinner. And given the way Albus had come and gone so quickly, she could have just handed him his present in the front hall and waited for Hagrid to leave dinner. They could have had a drink together in her rooms, and she might even have discovered what was bothering him.

She had no desire to go to the Hog’s Head that evening, which she understood was Hagrid’s preferred pub, but she could go see Wilhelmina. She might know what was troubling Hagrid. Besides, Minerva hadn’t seen the Head of Gryffindor recently. And if she was going to consider becoming the next Head of House, she should pay the current Head a visit.

Minerva walked up the stairs to the seventh-floor rooms of the Gryffindor Head of House. They were not the same quarters that Albus had had when Minerva was a student. He had apparently been given those quarters because of the sensitive work he was doing on the wards and, later, for the war against Grindelwald. Minerva thought the current House Head’s quarters, which she remembered Albus’s predecessor had used during her first year at Hogwarts, were much more suitable, since they were closer to the Gryffindor common room. It enabled the Head of House to reach the Gryffindor dormitories much more quickly – and it would be easier for the Gryffindor prefects to find her, if necessary.

Her visit with Wilhelmina was pleasant, but she didn’t stay long. Other than saying that she, too, had noticed that Hagrid seemed unhappy recently, Wilhelmina had nothing enlightening to say about what may have been bothering him. She did, however, encourage Minerva to take the Head of House position and told her that the two of them should to get together and talk about it once she had made a decision. Wilhelmina also thought it would be a good idea for Minerva to become Head of House right from the first of September, rather than waiting for Wilhelmina to leave in December.

“We could work out the living arrangements with Albus, I’m sure,” Wilhelmina said. “I wouldn’t mind moving to another set of rooms at the end of August. Or, if you prefer and it’s all right with the Headmaster, you could keep your current rooms and move up here in December.”

Before Minerva left, she told Wilhelmina that she was still not sure she would take the position, but that she would let her know as soon as she had made a decision and had informed the Headmaster. They could talk about the Head of House quarters if she decided to accept it.

Minerva had not yet reached the stairs when she saw a familiar figure walking toward her.

“Albus?”

“Good evening, Minerva!”

“I hadn’t expected to see you again this evening.” She smiled.

“I decided to try the excellent ink you gave me, my dear. It is wonderfully brilliant, and the quill is quite nice – it has a variable width charm on it. I had fun with that!” he said with a grin. “But then I decided to do something more practical than doodle, so I wrote a letter – I was just off to the Owlery to post it.”

Minerva smiled. “I’m glad you like it, Albus.”

“And you, my dear?”

“Just paid a brief visit to Wilhelmina. I thought I might take a walk before retiring. Would you like to join me?”

“Thank you, but no. I think I’ll just post my letter then toddle off to bed.”

“All right, then. Perhaps breakfast in the morning?”

“I don’t know . . .” Albus hesitated. “You could come by later in the morning, if you wish, and look at the responses we have received to the advertisements. There aren’t many yet, but if you want to get a start on them . . . .”

“Are you feeling well, Albus?”

“Fine, just fine! Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that it’s a bit early for bed yet, and you seem . . . preoccupied.”

“I am fine. I am a little tired, but I also thought I’d have a quiet night, read the novel I borrowed from you, and then get up early tomorrow and take care of some parchments that arrived by late Post Owl from the Wizengamot. But I am well.” He smiled. “And you might consider an early night, as well, my dear, after your tiring day yesterday.”

“You are right, Albus. It has been a tiring few days. Good night.” Minerva turned and hurried down the stairs, barely noticing the Headmaster calling good-night behind her.

She was upset. It wasn’t that Albus was tired and wanted to retire early – she could understand and accept that – but that he had expressed no regret that he didn’t feel up to a walk with her, and then he hadn’t accepted breakfast in the morning, nor even offered any alternative but for her to stop by the office to look at the applications. He hadn’t even made it sound like an excuse to spend time with her. How could he blow hot and cold like that? His letters, particularly the first one, enclosed with the tea he’d given her, had been so sweet. How could he claim to have missed her and then seem so ambivalent about spending time with her? Was it something she’d said or done that morning? She could think of nothing else that could explain this behaviour. But right then, she didn’t care what it was she may have said. He wasn’t telling her; he was simply avoiding her. And she wasn’t going to sit in her rooms and pout all weekend.

Minerva went to her bedroom and pulled her carpet bag from her wardrobe. She grabbed a handful of underwear and dropped it into the bag, then stuffed a few random robes in on top. She looked around and saw the tea that Albus had given her. No point in taking that. The afghan . . . but she wasn’t a child who needed a security blanket or a stuffed Puffskein in order to fall asleep in the dark, after all. She did pull Pnin from her bookshelf and add that to her bag. She would need nothing else.

Minerva had one more thing to do before she left; she stood at her small desk and wrote a quick note, then rolled the parchment and sealed it with emerald green wax.

“Blampa! Blampa! Come here, please.”

Minerva hadn’t finished calling the house-elf and she appeared.

“Yes, Professor Minerva ma’am? Can I, Blampa, serve?”

“Yes. Please see that the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, receives this in the morning. I believe he has retired for the night, so don’t bother him with it now. You may either owl it to him or have Wilspy, his house-elf, deliver it. Just see to it he receives it first thing in the morning, all right?”

Blampa quivered with the excitement of being entrusted with a new task. “Yes, Professor Minerva! I, Blampa, see that the Professor Headmaster gets letter in the morning! Yes, yes!”

“Good. See that you do. I will be gone for a few days, Blampa, so do not expect to be called by me during that time. But if I learn that you have not sent the letter to Professor Dumbledore as I requested, I will be most displeased.”

“Oh, Professor Minerva! Professor Minerva not be displeased with I, Blampa! I, Blampa, please the good Professor Minerva.”

“That will be all, Blampa,” she said wearily, dismissing the house-elf.

When the house-elf had Apparated away, Minerva left her rooms. She hesitated, wondering whether she should change her password, as she hadn’t done so since she’d originally set it, but then decided against it. It was unlikely that Albus would need to enter her rooms again while she was gone, but if he were to try, she might appear childish if she had changed the password without telling him.

Minerva hastened to the Hogwarts gates. As soon as she passed through them, she Apparated away with barely a thought to her destination.