Resolving a Misunderstanding

Albus reached for the letter Merwyn held out to him. He took it, but didn’t look at it.

“I don’t know, Merwyn –”

“Well, you decide. I’m going to go see how Egeria is managing with Fwisky. You know where the dining room is. Come along whenever you’re ready.” Merwyn reached behind him and Summoned a bottle of Scotch whisky from the top shelf of one of the bookcases. A short glass sailed along behind it. “Have another glass, if you like.” He poured a shot into the glass and set it down on the desk in front of Albus.

Merwyn clapped Albus on the back as he passed him on his way out of the study. “Take your time, Albus! Tea will wait.”

Albus looked down at the letter in his hand. The parchment was folded in half. The experience in France had placed a strain on his relationship with Minerva. Not the events themselves so much as his reaction to them, the way he had handled the aftermath. Minerva had been correct, of course. Carson’s death was not for naught. He had even known that at the time, intellectually, but it was difficult to face the fact that he lived while Carson was dead, and he felt responsible for his death and for the loss of Alastor’s leg. And yet it was the first time that he experienced both the pain he came to associate with separation from Minerva and that ache in his heart when he had rejected her generous offer of comfort and support.

Blindly, Albus reached out and picked up the small glass and took a sip of the smooth, warming Muggle whisky. He paused, then drank off the rest of it. He didn’t know why Merwyn would want him to read this letter, sent by accident so many years before, but now he was curious, despite his hesitation to reopen a painful time in his life or to invade Minerva’s privacy.

Albus unfolded the parchment.

“Dear Mother and Dad,

“If you are reading this, then I must apologise for the pain I have caused you. You must know that I wanted to return home to you, and that I would have done what I could in order to see you again. But you also know that I could not refuse the mission that was given me – I do not know if you are aware of its nature, so best not speak of it here – nor could I leave anyone behind if leaving him would mean abandoning him to an evil fate.

“You have both always given me the greatest encouragement and love that any daughter could receive from any parents. You always allowed me the freedom to find my own path, and, where possible, gave me the tools to do so successfully. I have always known that you were as proud of me as ever you could be, no matter what I chose to do. So please, be proud now. You raised me to find what was right and to pursue it. I am doing that now.

“Please give my love to Malcolm, Morgan, and Murdoch, and Melina, too. Tell her to study hard when she gets to Hogwarts, and to take advantage of the opportunity to learn everything she can.

“There is one other thing that I must mention. It may be possible that although I do not return, another will. You will remember this person well, as I did not throw up on his shoes, as you had warned him I might, Mother. It is likely that in this event, he will feel some guilt that he was unable to bring me back with him. You must tell him that I did only what I had to do, and that, as I wished to ‘emulate him in every way,’ could not choose to do otherwise. Remind him, too, that I am a Gryffindor and a McGonagall, and we tend to be a bit headstrong; no one could have prevented me from coming after him and finding him, and no price would be too high to pay in order to accomplish that. I only hope that I was sufficiently successful in my task that he was able to return, even if without me. If I was successful in that regard, please tell him that my gratitude toward him is immeasurable, and that some of my happiest memories include time spent with him.

“Do know that I love you all, although I may not say it often enough.

“With apologies,
“I remain your loving daughter,

“Minerva
“5 January 1945”

Albus took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. He re-read the paragraph that without doubt referred to him. Minerva would have given her life to see that he escaped. He had witnessed it himself in that moment when she had handed him the Portkey and told him that he had to use it and leave without her, if necessary. Albus didn’t know if he would have been able to do that, and he was grateful he hadn’t had to find out. It would have been the technically correct action, and he had often had to make hard choices, but that was one choice he was very glad he hadn’t been required to make.

Young Minerva’s devotion and concern for him were touching, even now. More so were the final words meant specifically for him. Happy memories of time spent with him – her happiest memories. She had been a beautiful child and had grown to become a beautiful young woman. And when Albus thought back on Minerva’s days as a student, he knew that many of his happiest memories from that time also included her. He shuddered and dropped the letter on the desk. He disgusted himself, thinking of his love for Minerva and reflecting on his memories of her as a student. He was old enough to be her grandfather – her great-grandfather, in fact. Perhaps that was why Merwyn had given him the letter to read, to remind him of his correct place in Minerva’s life, as teacher, mentor, Headmaster.

Merwyn had seemed friendly enough. A man doesn’t generally play chess and share drinks with someone he suspects of having an inappropriate relationship with his daughter. Why had he shown him that letter? What could be the purpose now, so many years after it had been written?

Hands on the armrests, Albus stood stiffly and blinked. He shouldn’t have had that last drink. One thing was certain, whatever Merwyn’s purpose had been in showing it to him, the effect of the letter was to make him feel worse for not having been a better friend to Minerva after Carson’s death and for having turned away her offer of help. Perhaps that was why Minerva had left the castle with scarcely a word. He had again rejected her gestures of friendship, although that was not what he had intended to do. But it could have seemed that way to her. He simply wished to avoid being alone with her for very long at one time, as well as to encourage her to make time for other friends. Albus didn’t want Minerva to become so accustomed to spending her time with him that she neglected opportunities for happiness in her life, not to mention he wanted to avoid inappropriate gestures of affection on his part. Yet if it made her so unhappy . . . he would simply have to find another way to control his feelings for her.

Albus left Merwyn’s study and headed down the hall toward the dining room to join Egeria and Merwyn for tea, wondering if Minerva had returned yet and what he would say to her if she had. Reading the letter she had written twelve years ago had put him in a peculiar mood, even more so than he had been when he’d Apparated to the McGonagalls’ doorstep with his pathetic excuse for a visit. He was behaving like a teenager with a crush, which, at his age, he thought, meant that he was behaving like an old fool. At the same time, he felt oddly relaxed after his afternoon of chess with Merwyn – probably a side-effect of the Scotch whisky Merwyn had kept pouring him. Albus liked his occasional glass of wine or small snifter of brandy, but it was actually a rare treat for him, since he was very busy and relied heavily on maintaining his wits and his magic, so the whisky was a bit more than he was used to, particularly in the middle of the day.

Tea was lovely, with several different kinds of sandwiches to choose from, little cakes, fresh berries, both clotted cream and heavy cream, and, of course, perfectly brewed tea. Conversation ranged widely, and Albus found himself feeling quite warm, relaxed, and sated by the end.

“You know, Albus, Minerva should be returning soon, but you may have time to finish your game with Merwyn beforehand.”

“I really can’t impose upon your hospitality any longer, Egeria,” Albus replied.

“Nonsense! It would be foolish to leave now, when your entire purpose in coming here today was to see Minerva. Merwyn,” she said, turning to her husband, “you take Albus back into the library. I’ll send Minerva along when she returns.”

Albus acquiesced and allowed Merwyn to lead him back into the library.

“I don’t know about you, Albus, but that heavy tea has made me a bit sleepy. I don’t know if I’m up to continuing our game just yet. Why don’t we sit and have a chat instead? And if we doze off, well, Egeria is very good at waking one just as one is in the midst of a lovely dream!”

Albus laughed and settled down in one of the armchairs across from the old horsehair settee. “You awaken from one lovely dream to another, I would say, Merwyn.”

Merwyn smiled and took his pipe from its place on the mantle. “That I do, Albus, that I do. Egeria is a remarkable woman – intelligent, efficient, energetic, a very talented midwife, but also one of the warmest, most loving women to walk this earth – at least, I think she is. Not that we haven’t had our ups and downs, but they have been minor ones. It was hardest once all of the children were gone, of course, but then Melina was born, and she had her first grandchild to dote on.” Merwyn laughed. “Not that I haven’t done my share of doting, naturally. But Egeria, my wonderful and most constant companion through life, she adds more to my days than I can properly express . . . You know, Minerva takes after her mother in many ways. And once she has decided to settle down with her wizard, I am sure they will both be very happy.”

“So Minerva is seeing someone?”

“Hmm?” Merwyn puffed a few times to get the tobacco glowing. “No, not really. You know Minerva, after all . . . by the way, did you read the letter she wrote?”

Albus, wishing he had his pipe to occupy himself with, said, “Yes, I did. It was . . . remarkable.”

“Yes, we thought so at the time, once we got over the shock of receiving it.” Merwyn puffed a few more times. “She is quite devoted to you, you know, Albus,” he said, looking down at the bowl of his pipe.

It took almost all of Albus’s concentration not to blush. “Yes, and she has become a good friend over the years. She is doing very well at Hogwarts, too. I should tell her that more frequently, I believe.

“It is easy to take friendship and loyalty for granted, of course, and to make assumptions about it. And easiest, I think, to take for granted those whom we love most. I have learned that, and I don’t take my dear Egeria for granted, not when life is short and every moment precious.”

“You are a very lucky wizard, Merwyn.”

“Partly lucky, partly astute – I recognised what I could have with Egeria and grasped it with both hands, never to let go . . .”

“Yes, one must take advantage of opportunities that arise, in life as in war.” Reading Minerva’s letter had carried Albus back to the years of Grindelwald.

“But life is not all war, Albus, do not forget that.” Merwyn grinned. “Look at me! Here I am, lecturing you on how to live life, you, whose life is so full.”

Albus just laughed. He could envy Merwyn, in some ways, if that were an emotion he were prone too. But envy and regret, he had learned long ago, are enemies of the present, enemies of life; they become your friends only when they are useful in impelling you to take some positive action, then leave them behind in the process.

“Up to finishing our game?” Merwyn asked, looking at Albus appraisingly. “Egeria’s cream cakes can make you a little sleepy.”

“They were very good – I was surprised that she made them herself, since you have house-elves.”

“There are a great many things that Egeria prefers to do herself. That independence and quirkiness appealed to me when we met. And her cream cakes, too.” He grinned.

The two men got up and resumed their game. Merwyn cleaned his pipe and sent it sailing back to take its place on the mantle, then he cleared the room of the tobacco smoke. “Egeria allows me a few vices, as long as they are occasional and I clean up after myself.”

Albus smiled. “I like an occasional pipe, myself. I find it relaxing . . . the ritual as much as the smoking itself.”

Merwyn nodded knowingly, then moved his knight, simultaneously endangering Albus’s remaining castle and his queen. If he moved his queen out of danger, he would lose his castle and his bishop would be placed in danger, and he couldn’t subsequently move the bishop without opening his king to check. But he was not going to allow Merwyn to decide which piece he would move next. Instead, he counterattacked, placing Merwyn’s bishop and second knight both in danger, and creating a defence for his own bishop so that Merwyn wouldn’t be able to take it without losing his knight in the process. Merwyn would have to decide to defend or attack. Either way, they’d both be down a couple men.

Merwyn laughed. “You don’t scare easily, do you, Albus?”

Albus just chuckled. In the end, Albus won the game, but only after Merwyn had put up quite a fight.

“A drink to celebrate?”

“You know, Merwyn, I would think you’re trying to get me drunk,” Albus joked.

“I don’t have company as often as I would like.” Merwyn shrugged.

“I won’t be able to Apparate to Hogwarts if you continue pouring the whisky.”

“We’re on the Floo-Network now – just were hooked up a few weeks ago, so I still forget. You could always Floo back to Hogsmeade. Or just stay the night. I know Egeria and Minerva would both be pleased to have you stay.”

“I have to get back. I didn’t make arrangements to be gone overnight. I should be leaving soon,” Albus said, shaking his head.

“Stay, Albus. Minerva will be here soon.”

Albus stood. “I don’t know –”

The crack of Apparition outside the window interrupted his thought. Merwyn smiled.

“She still Apparates to the front of the house even though we altered the family wards several years ago to include her. It took us a while to get around to it, she was gone so much.” He grinned triumphantly at Albus. “There goes your excuse to leave!”

Sure enough, a moment later, the door opened and Minerva stepped in, looking fresh and lovely.

“Mother said I have a visi – Albus?” Minerva stopped partway into the room.

Merwyn got up. “I’ll just leave you two to your business, then. Thank you for the games, Albus. We’ll have to have a rematch sometime.”

“What are you doing here?” Minerva asked after her father had left the room. “I don’t mean to be rude, but this is a surprise.”

“I, um, brought you these. If you wanted them. I don’t want to disrupt your holiday. I’m sorry. It was inconsiderate of me . . . but your father asked for a game or two of chess, so I stayed a while. I was just thinking of leaving.” Albus stood.

“Oh. What are those?” Minerva asked, pointing to the file of parchments Albus had picked up.

“Just the applications I had mentioned. Another one arrived this morning, and I thought of you, and I just thought I’d pop around and deliver them myself.” His excuse sounded even weaker to his own ears than it had before.

“You didn’t need to do that, Albus. If it was important that I get them, you could have sent an owl; otherwise, I will be back at Hogwarts in a day or two.”

“I know . . . it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I’m sorry; I’ll be on my way. You can fetch them when you return.”

“Did you want me to look at them, Albus? You can leave them, if you like. And you don’t need to leave right away – unless you want to.”

“All right.” He held out the file. “I also thought it would be nice to see you. I . . . wanted to be sure you were well.”

Minerva took the file and put it back down on the low coffee table. “Why wouldn’t I be well?” she asked quizzically.

“Your departure was somewhat abrupt, and I worried that –”

The library door opened and Egeria came in. “I thought so,” she said, shaking her head. “Merwyn just left the two of you in the library.” She turned to her daughter. “Take him for a walk. Show him the gardens. Your father’s had him locked away in here all day playing chess and doing God knows what. Plying him with drink, too. It’s a beautiful evening. You both need some fresh air.”

Before Albus knew what was happening, he was standing outside with Minerva, who was smiling.

“Mother certainly can be forceful, can’t she?” Minerva said, observing Albus’s puzzled expression. “Let’s take that walk, shall we? And I can reassure you that I am quite well. I just wanted a couple days of rest. Although I was a bit concerned that I had offended you in some way.” She took his arm and led him around behind the house toward her mother’s kitchen gardens, which she believed would interest Albus more than the flower gardens.

“No, no, not at all, my dear, not at all. I really do like the quill and the ink very much. And it was nice to have you back in the castle.” Albus hesitated. “I was disappointed, to be honest, to learn you were gone again so soon, although of course you should certainly feel free to visit your family whenever you like.”

“I didn’t want to sit idle in my rooms at Hogwarts today, and I hadn’t been home in a while . . . I had a very nice visit with my Uncle Perseus and Aunt Helen this afternoon – I hadn’t seen them in an age – and Malcolm was around for lunch, too.”

“That’s nice. I haven’t seen Perseus in years – I don’t think I’ve seen him since . . . well, for a long time, anyway,” Albus said, not wanting to say that he didn’t think he’d seen him since before he’d begun teaching at Hogwarts. It was foolish of him; it wasn’t as though he could hide his age from Minerva, after all, not that there’d be any point to it.

“Yes, he’d mentioned the same thing. He said you’d been fairly close at one time – you, Collum, Perseus, a few others.”

Albus nodded.

“I hadn’t known that you’d been married, Albus,” Minerva said softly.

“It was a very long time ago, my dear.” Albus sighed. He was as old as he was, and there was no escaping it. “You may find it difficult to understand how it could be so, but I rarely even think of it anymore. No disrespect meant to Dervilia. But it has been a very long time.”

“He told me what happened, Albus. It sounded very sad.”

Albus stopped and fingered some mint, plucking it and crushing it a bit between his fingers. “It was sad. Beyond sad, Minerva. I blamed myself for quite a long time. And rightly so.” He looked over at Minerva. “I assume he told you how she died.”

“Yes. I can see now why it might be difficult for you to visit Robert and Thea.”

“What? Did Robert say something?” He appeared surprised.

“Not very much, and I misinterpreted it at the time. Just that he understood why you hadn’t visited. I assumed it was because Robert knew how busy you’ve been. But now I see that it might recall unpleasant memories.”

“I hadn’t thought of that . . . but perhaps . . .” Albus looked over toward the calendula. “Perhaps that was part of it. I don’t want him to go through what I did.”

“Did you love her very much, Albus?” Minerva asked quietly.

“Not enough, as you would know if Perseus told you the whole story. My mother had tried to convince me to take one of the house-elves. I told her it was unnecessary until the baby had actually come. But I spent days at a time away from home. Dervilia was alone. The cottage was isolated. She’d been dead a day when I Apparated home and found her. It was a very expensive lesson to me, Minerva, and I was not the only one to pay the price.” He looked sombre.

“I’m sorry, Albus, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Albus turned toward her and smiled slightly. “It was a very long time ago, Minerva. I was married for a blink of an eye, it seems now. Less than two years after we married, Dervilia was gone. The dreadful thing of it is, that before it happened, I would have been happier to be free. I married because I thought it was the thing to do. And I loved Dervilia – as a boy loves a girl. I saw no reason I couldn’t proceed with all of my plans, just as I would have if we hadn’t married. It was fine at first, but then she became pregnant. As I say, I was very young. I had not wanted children so soon – later, of course. But I didn’t change my habits. I left her in the cottage in Ireland and spent days at a time at my Potions apprenticeship in England. Apprentices weren’t supposed to be married back then, and my Master was making a great exception in taking me on. So I behaved as though I weren’t married. It was very wrong of me. But I had a narrow view of the world at the time, being so young.” He shrugged. “But you know, it was close to one hundred years ago, my dear, and one lives and one learns.”

Minerva nodded and gestured to Albus to follow her over to the wooden bench sheltered under a pergola covered by vines filled with heavenly-scented purple blossoms, taking his arm as they walked. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the bees and enjoying the light breeze.

Minerva finally said, “We all make mistakes. It’s just that some of them have graver consequences than we could have ever dreamed of. But, as you say, it was a long time ago.”

“Did Perseus also tell you about my other ‘youthful mistake,’ then? Why I left?”

“Not really. He did say that there was an incident, after which you travelled and studied, and didn’t return for years.”

“Yes . . . well, as long as we’re discussing my foolish youth, I will tell you of it.” He sighed and looked off into the distance before turning to her. “It was not the same sort of mistake. The first was a sin of omission; this was a sin of commission.

“I had a friend who was engaged to be married. I had arranged to meet them both at her flat in London. We were going to go out to dinner in Diagon Alley after he was done for the day at the Ministry. I arrived at the flat, my friend wasn’t there yet, but his fiancée was. She wasn’t alone; there was another wizard there. He was attacking her, Minerva, in the worst way. Apparently he was a former beau, someone who was upset about what he couldn’t have and so he decided to try and take it. I saw him and I lost my temper. Badly. I don’t know what I did to him, but I didn’t even draw my wand. He remained a patient at St. Mungo’s until he died about a dozen years later.

“I destroyed his mind, Minerva. I didn’t intend to, but I was so angry, I lost control. No one else held me responsible for it, given the circumstances, but I did. I needed to learn more than I had at Hogwarts, more than I could in any apprenticeship, so I travelled. I travelled and I learned.”

“What about your apprenticeship? Had you finished it?”

“No. This incident, so close on the heels of Dervilia’s death . . . I felt a murderer twice over. I talked to my uncle. He recommended I take some time and travel. So I did. Longer than I thought I would. But, as I say, I learned a lot. I did attain my mastery in both Transfiguration and Potions, eventually, and I met Nicholas Flammel and his wife, Perenelle, and I worked with him for a time. Then I returned to Britain, did research, and,” he said with a shrug, “attempted to lead a normal life.”

“I’d say you have led a superior life, Albus, not just a normal one.”

Albus chuckled. “I suppose that is my notion of ‘normal.’ One thing I learned, quite painfully, Minerva, is that with great gifts comes great responsibility. I have attempted to live up to that responsibility. I hope that I do so most of the time.” He looked over at Minerva, who was observing him with an inscrutable expression. “Today, I was reminded very strongly of that cold January day when I Apparated here to deliver Carson’s letter to you. I . . . I don’t think I did the right thing that day. For you. What you needed from me.”

Minerva took his hand. “You tried, Albus. I know you did. But you were still suffering, yourself. And, of course, you felt responsible. I knew that then, but I didn’t know how to get through to you, to get you to see that you did all you could, just as Carson did all he could. I was not particularly understanding, I’m afraid, but I was upset, too.”

“You were very understanding, Minerva, and perceptive.”

“That short letter you wrote, after Grindelwald, it meant a lot to me.”

Albus smiled mildly. “It was about all I could manage at the time, but I thought it was important that you knew . . . what you said was true,” he said, remembering the note he wrote her, whose contents read simply, “We did it, Carson and I, together.”

Minerva smiled, herself, at the memory. She had gone to St. Mungo’s to see Albus the day after receiving his owl. The Prophet had gone into several special editions, covering the final defeat of Grindelwald, and Minerva fully expected to be turned away just as she had been after the incident in France, but she felt the need to go, nonetheless. She was on a short list of approved visitors, however, and she had been allowed up to see Albus. It had been a relief; Minerva hadn’t known what to expect, but he was sitting up in bed, eating beef stew with potatoes and carrots. He had grinned broadly when he saw Minerva. He explained that he was more tired than anything else and would be released the next morning. When Minerva asked him what had happened, how he had defeated Grindelwald, a look of pain crossed his face.

“Not without loss, Minerva, great loss.” He set down his knife and fork, and a bleakness entered his eyes that caused Minerva’s own heart to clench in sympathy. Knowing that he had probably already been inundated by questions from the Ministry, Minerva asked nothing more. Whatever she needed to know, she had learned from the brief letter he had sent her the day before.

Now, beneath the vine-covered arbour, Minerva squeezed Albus’s hand. “Stay for supper?”

Albus opened his mouth to decline the invitation, as he sensibly should, given the feelings rising in him as Minerva held his hand, but instead he heard himself saying, “I’d like that.”

Minerva relaxed, unaware she had even been tense. “Good. Would you like to see the rest of the garden? And perhaps take a leisurely walk along the cliffs?”

Albus grinned. “As long as you don’t have me Apparating to the top of any precipices.”

“Not today. Maybe next time!”

“Yes, maybe next time,” he said wryly.

“I’ll hold you to that, then, Albus.” Minerva chuckled.

As they walked, Minerva’s hand resting lightly in the crook of his arm, Albus asked, “Have you given any more thought to the Head of House position, my dear? Gertie mentioned in her letter that she’d discussed it with you.”

“Did she tell you that I was unsuitable?” Minerva asked, remembering the way they had left the conversation and Gertie’s last remark, which still stung.

“No, quite the contrary, in fact. She told me that she thought you would be very suitable,” he replied, puzzled by the tone of Minerva’s question.

“Oh. I thought . . . our conversation on the topic did not end on a positive note, that’s all.”

Albus smiled wryly. “You probably were talking at cross-purposes. I could see that potential quite clearly during staff meetings this year. You tend to focus on the way in which Gertie says something and respond to that rather than to what she is saying.” At Minerva’s frown, he added, “Which is perfectly understandable, of course, as you don’t know her well and she tends to be somewhat terse.”

“I am a great fan of brevity and succinctness, myself, Albus. I simply don’t always understand what her point is, I suppose.”

“So, have you given it more thought?”

“Yes, but, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to wait to make any decision,” she answered.

Albus nodded. “That’s fine. But I’d like your answer before the end of the month. I need to be able to make plans for the school year. Waiting much longer than that would make it more difficult.”

“Of course, Albus. I understand that.”

“I don’t want to pressure you, Minerva, but I really do hope that you take the job. I think you would be very good, and as a Head of House, you would have an opportunity to exercise more authority within the school, more leadership. I believe that both you and the school could only benefit from that.”

“Thank you, Albus. It means a lot to me that you have confidence in me,” Minerva said softly.

“More than just confidence, Minerva, but complete faith.”

The two fell silent as they walked, now on the rocky path along the cliff’s edge.

“How long had you planned to stay with your parents?” Albus asked after a while.

“I hadn’t really decided. Just a couple of days, I suppose.”

“When you come back, we might be able to go through the applications together, the first few . . .”

“That might be a good idea – that way I’ll know what kind of things you think important to consider. Would you like to do that tomorrow?”

Albus smiled and nodded. “That would work well. I have time tomorrow. Just come up when you are ready.”

“All right, then, I’ll return to Hogwarts in the morning and join you after I’ve dropped my things in my room.” Minerva felt like singing. Albus wanted to see her. Only to go over applications, but after his letter in which he said he’d always seek an excuse to spend time with her, and the fact that he’d come to see her at her parents about it when there were only a few applications to look at so far, she had no doubt that he did want an excuse to spend time with her now. The question was, what had been wrong the day before? Why had he seemed so distant? She was hesitant to ask him; if she had offended him somehow, she would like to know. On the other hand, bringing it up might cause him to withdraw again. She wished things were simpler.

“You know, Albus, last week when we talked, we said we’d try to resolve misunderstandings before they took on greater proportions than they deserved. I was wondering if I said or did anything yesterday that bothered you. You seemed so reserved after dinner . . .”

“I was tired, to be honest, and I had a headache in the afternoon. I wasn’t at my best . . . also, the mention of Gordon’s widow brought back unpleasant memories, which I was unprepared to discuss.”

Gordon’s widow? He must be speaking of Valerianna. Well, if he could scarcely bring himself to speak her name, Minerva wasn’t going to force him to.

“I’m sorry, Albus. I didn’t realise –”

“Don’t give it another thought, my dear. Truly.” He patted the hand that rested on his elbow. “It did sound as though you had a nice time with Quin, though.”

Not that again. Minerva hoped Albus wasn’t going to mention that Quin was a “catch” again. “Yes, he is very entertaining. Quin mentioned that he knows you slightly.”

“He and his children have often been there when I’ve visited Gertie, and I’ve seen him at other social events, as well, but we haven’t spent much time together. I should rectify that. Perhaps you could invite him to visit Hogwarts soon, Minerva. You did promise him a tour, after all.”

“Yes, I did. Do you suppose I could show him the different House common rooms? Since he wasn’t a student here, he’s quite curious. I’m certain that Wilhelmina would agree to have him take a peek into Gryffindor Tower, and Johannes would probably enjoy showing him Ravenclaw Tower, himself, but I am unsure about Slytherin and Hufflepuff. Professor Dustern is still Head of Hufflepuff, but she’s left the school, and Slytherin tends to be quite secretive – not to mention that Slughorn is gone for the summer.”

“They will all be back for the ward renewal. It is the last of Professor Dustern’s responsibilities, after which she will be free to leave Hogwarts and never return. However, if you’d like to give him the tour before that, I can contact Horace for you. I think he’d agree. As for Hufflepuff . . . you might have Poppy ask her, as a favour to her, since she used to be Poppy’s Head of House.”

“That’s a good idea. I’m sure Poppy would be happy to do it – I’ll write to her tonight and have her ask her permission. I don’t know when Quin will be able to visit, perhaps in the next week or two. Which reminds me, while I was visiting Malcolm and my aunt and uncle, Melina’s little owl found me. She agreed on the twentieth to meet with us. Brennan will meet us at her friend’s flat – the one he thinks she shares with her. She suggested two o’clock. Brennan will have shut up his chemist’s shop for the day by then, and she’ll have lunch with him before she brings him up.”

Albus nodded seriously. “Yes, that would work well. We will have a few hours so that once the initial spells are cast, we can answer his questions.” He looked sharply at Minerva. “I do hope I will not have to Obliviate him, Minerva. I dislike doing that for any reason other than to avert a major crisis.”

“I shouldn’t think so . . . after all, after the spells are cast and the ritual is performed, it’s not as though he’ll be able to talk about it with other Muggles, and he will only be able to discuss it with witches and wizards whom Melina introduces to him as such.”

“I know, but if he finds it too difficult to deal with – a completely new reality – I don’t want the boy to live in a state of psychological torment.”

“I have only met him once, but I found him to be a bright man, quite steady,” Minerva said. “I think he will be resilient. Most important of all, he really seems to love Melina. I think that will help a lot. Love is a great motivator.”

“Yes, indeed, it is,” Albus answered with a smile. “But back to Quin. Let me know when he will be coming, and I will try to be available to meet with him. When will you see him next?”

“I really don’t know, Albus. I told him I would owl him about the tour of Hogwarts; other than that, I have no plans to see him.”

“Oh, what a pity! It sounded as though you got along quite well.”

“Yes, we did. And having no plans to see him again doesn’t mean that I won’t, just that I have no specific plans to do so.” Minerva looked over at him with a frown. “I do hope you aren’t going to suggest again that he is a ‘catch,’ Albus. He does not want a relationship with any witch right now, and I am not interested in him in that way, in any case.”

“No, no, just trying to be supportive of your friendships, my dear,” Albus said with a smile. “After all, although it is fortunate that Poppy is also working at Hogwarts, and you have other congenial colleagues, it is always nice to maintain relationships outside the school, and that can be difficult, given the amount of time you spend there.”

“Thank you, Albus, but I think I can manage my friendships, both in and out of Hogwarts. And what of you? You mentioned Poppy, but we are friends, as well, aren’t we, Albus?”

“Of course, my dear, although I can’t help but think that you could find more congenial company than this old codger.”

“Albus, the only time I don’t find your company congenial is when you make statements like that,” Minerva retorted sharply.

Albus’s eyebrows raised at that, but he didn’t respond.

“Come, Mother will have supper for us – you are still staying for supper, aren’t you, Albus, despite being such uncongenial company?” Minerva asked sarcastically.

“Yes. I’m sorry, Minerva. I was only thinking of you,” he said softly.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Minerva sighed, “but I don’t understand why you persist in thinking I wouldn’t enjoy your company. We are friends, we have a good time together, and you seem to enjoy yourself, as well. Unless you say these things because you don’t find my company as congenial as I do yours, and you are trying to let me down gently?”

“No, no, not at all! Truly! Never believe that, Minerva. I do enjoy your company, very much. So much that I am afraid I am in danger of monopolising your time, that’s all.”

Minerva laughed. “We are both so busy, there’s hardly any danger of that. And I doubt very much I would mind being monopolised by you, in any case. And if I have other things to do, I will always tell you, and you must do the same, of course.” Then, thinking of her hurt feelings the night before, she added, “Although I might be a little sensitive if I begin to think you are avoiding me, as you seemed to last night.”

“As I said, I was tired and had a headache. I probably –”

Minerva interrupted him. “I understand that now, Albus, and it’s all right, you needn’t explain again.” She laughed. “We may need to communicate better sometimes, but that doesn’t mean we have to repeat ourselves. Although I will not hesitate to do so myself if it means I must tell you again not to say I must find your company dull.”

“I don’t believe I ever said my company was dull, my dear!” Albus replied with a twinkle.

“Hmmpf. I will tell you if you are ever in danger of becoming dull and you tell me if I begin to bore you, all right?” Minerva asked with a grin.

“That is a deal, Professor McGonagall!” Albus said, smiling.

The two went in to supper, their eyes sparkling. Merwyn and Egeria looked at one another and smiled.