To Be of Assistance
On the way down to dinner, riding the spiral stairs down to the second floor, Minerva told Albus of the various letters they had received in response to the summons to the emergency staff meeting, mentioning that she hadn’t heard from a few of the staff, but hoped that simply meant they would be there.
Albus patted her back. “Don’t worry about that, Minerva, as I can see you are. If they did not receive their letters, there is nothing you can do about it, but I believe everyone will be there in the morning.”
“Albus, I’m going to stop in my rooms before coming to dinner. You two go on ahead. I’d like to change,” Gertrude said.
Minerva looked at her. She’d become so used to seeing Gertie in her summer attire, she hadn’t noticed that the witch was wearing lovely silvery-blue robes with fancy, delicate embroidery in silver thread.
“We will see you there, then, Gertie,” Albus said, with a smile and a nod to his Deputy before she turned down the corridor to her rooms.
After Gertie was gone and they were headed toward the stairs, Minerva said, “Also, I wrote to Professor Flitwick and told him that he could stay in the castle tonight. He’s arriving at eleven o’clock. I hope that’s all right, Albus.”
“That’s fine, just fine, Minerva. Very thoughtful of you, in fact.”
“Well, he said he could stay in Hogsmeade tonight, but I didn’t think that sounded like the right way to start off here. And I told him that I or someone else would be sure to meet him at the gates when he arrives.”
“Very good, indeed, Minerva,” Albus said, uncomfortably reminded of his own negligence the day that Minerva had arrived at Hogwarts. It had been cold that day. “If you would like to meet him yourself, that would be very good. Do you know where the Ravenclaw guest quarters are? No? I’ll show you on the way back up to the office after dinner. If you don’t mind joining us, that is. I know you have been very busy today, and it is your holiday . . . .”
“Oh, no, I’m very happy to. And I was glad to be able to be of assistance today. It was the least I could do.”
“Your very least is always the very best, though, Minerva,” Albus said softly, putting his hand on her arm.
Minerva looked over at Albus, and for a moment, she thought she saw a change in his expression, but it was there and gone again, and unidentifiable, though if she’d had to have named it, she would have called it “wistful.” But he was probably just tired after his long day.
“Thank you, Albus.” She smiled warmly at him.
They entered the staff room to find it more full than usual, and many of the returned staff were those who hadn’t sent a response owl, which relieved Minerva’s worries. Fortunately, there were still a few seats left, one at the head of the table, one in the middle, and two together toward the far end of the room. Albus led Minerva to one of the two free seats and pulled out a chair for her, then surprised her by sitting beside her. Dinner appeared on the table as soon as the Headmaster sat down.
“You aren’t sitting at the head of the table, Albus?” Minerva whispered questioningly.
“It’s summertime and we’re in the staff room,” he said with a smile. “So unless I am in danger of becoming dull and you would prefer me to sit elsewhere, this chair suits me just fine.”
Minerva smiled. “I just wondered, that’s all – but I will tell you if you are in danger of becoming dull!” she joked.
“And I shall return the favour, my dear.”
Gertrude entered the staff room wearing a dark grey teaching robe over her summer attire and took the free chair in the middle of the table. Hagrid followed a few minutes later, looked over the table, realised that the only remaining chair was at the head of the table, shrugged, and pulled it out. Unlike the chairs on either side of the table, however, this chair had arms, and Hagrid looked at it, clearly seeing that he wouldn’t fit in it. Minerva, noticing this, was about to say something to Albus about removing the arms from the chair or widening it, but before she could, Wilhelmina had her wand out and had enlarged the chair for the assistant groundskeeper.
Hagrid looked over at Wilhelmina and said, “Ta, Professor,” then sat down.
Wilhelmina smiled at him, but Hagrid had already turned his attention to serving himself and didn’t appear to notice.
Minerva wished she knew what was going on with those two. At least Hagrid had acknowledged Wilhelmina this time, although she was fairly certain that Hagrid usually addressed the Care of Magical Creatures by her first name. Once they had dealt with the initial consequences of Pretnick’s injury, she would make the time to see Hagrid and find out what was wrong. If anything, he seemed more subdued than he had before she had left for the Gamps on Monday. Of course, he might still be suffering from the hangover he’d been nursing at lunch. She was glad to see that he looked cleaner than he had earlier in the day, however.
“So, Albus,” said Professor Evandras, the Ancient Runes teacher, “when are you going to enlighten us about why we have interrupted our holidays in order to return for a staff meeting?”
All conversation at the table halted, everyone waiting to hear Dumbledore’s response.
“At the staff meeting in the morning, when the entire staff is assembled, seems appropriate,” Albus replied with a slight smile.
“Can’t you just give us a little information now, Albus?” Professor Evandras asked. The witch smiled winningly at him.
“Only that it is something of great importance, or I would not have called you all here,” Albus replied patiently.
“But, Albus – ” Professor Evandras began.
“The Headmaster has answered your question, Lillian,” Gertrude interrupted. “Now tell me, how was your trip to Turkey?”
Gradually, the conversations around the table picked up again, and Minerva was happy that no one offered any follow-up questions. She knew that Albus wouldn’t answer any questions about the purpose of the staff meeting, but some people could be annoyingly persistent, even with the Headmaster, hoping to wheedle just a little information out of him. Gertrude was able to shut them up in a way that Albus wouldn’t have; he was quite capable of deflecting questions and silencing people, of course, but it was nice that he didn’t have to come across as the stern Headmaster. It was a role he played with some reluctance, Minerva believed. She wondered what the dynamics had been like when Dippet had been Headmaster and Albus had been his Deputy. Albus had taken on so many of Dippet’s responsibilities even as Deputy and was of such a different temperament from Gertrude, she imagined that the relationship had been rather different, and Albus’s role, as well.
Minerva was hungry and ate with a good appetite.
“Enjoying your meal, my dear?”
“Mmm, quite,” she responded after swallowing her potato. “I wasn’t up to eating very much lunch today, and this afternoon was busy, so I didn’t have tea – besides, I was in your office for much of the afternoon. Did you eat lunch, I hope?”
“Yes, my dear, we ate in the hospital tearoom, and Gertrude fetched tea and biscuits late in the afternoon. You know you can call Wilspy if you’re in my office and require something. Or, if she’s not in the castle because I’m away and she’s with me, you can call Hwouly, the house-elf matron, as she also has access to the Headmaster’s office and my suite. You shouldn’t let yourself go hungry, my dear.”
“I considered calling Wilspy, actually, but the owls just kept coming. I don’t know how you deal with all of it.”
“Well, much of it is deposited in the Charmed owl box, so I’m not continually interrupted, and Gertie deals with much of the Hogwarts-related correspondence – and she receives a good deal of her own Hogwarts post, as it is. She is invaluable to me.”
“I’m happy to hear that, Albus,” Minerva said graciously, but feeling a most unwelcome pang of jealousy at his words.
“My duties for Headmaster Dippet were somewhat unusual, so it took us a little while to find a system that worked for us, but the fact that we know one another so well smoothed things along nicely.”
“I’m sure it did.” Minerva took a mouthful of spinach. She’d put too much salt on it, so she drew her wand and did a mild desalination spell.
“You know, Minerva, you could probably do that wandlessly,” Albus said.
“Possibly. But it seems hardly worth the effort.” Minerva thought that Albus overestimated her abilities. Desalination seemed like a basic spell, but it was really quite complex, especially if one wanted to apply it as she had, to remove only some of the salt and not all of it. It was easy enough for her to do with a wand, and even nonverbally, but to do it wandlessly would require focus, concentration, and control that she didn’t think she could muster just to make her meal more palatable.
Albus didn’t respond to Minerva’s comment, as Johannes on his other side had asked him a question about the possibility of expanding greenhouse four that summer. Many of the castle reconfigurations were done at the same time the wards were reset, and, although the greenhouses weren’t a part of the castle proper, it would be most convenient to make alterations to them at the same time. Minerva was surprised slightly by the request, since Birnbaum would be gone in a year, but, of course, if the change was needed, it would be negligent not to request it. This reminded Minerva of all of the staffing changes that were occurring over the next year. Professor Dustern was on her way out, being free from her contractual obligations after the ward renewal, Wilhelmina would be leaving in December, and Johannes in June. And now Pretnick had been bitten by a werewolf.
Minerva couldn’t honestly see how they could keep Robert on the staff. It wasn’t just a matter of the three days a month when he would need to be locked away, but during the days leading up to the transformation, he would become agitated and anxious, then after the three days had passed, he would be exhausted for at least a week, not to mention that, being locked up without any outlet for his desire to find and attack humans, he would likely have self-inflicted injuries that would need to heal. Perhaps they could find some other role for him at the school – he could give special presentations, perhaps, or assist Albus with some of his paperwork when he was well enough. He wouldn’t have to live on the castle grounds to do that. He could take a place in Hogsmeade, and Albus could arrange a secure location for him to endure the transformation every month. That was the best she believed could be hoped for, though she wouldn’t feel comfortable saying so to Albus, at least not so frankly. She admired Albus’s desire to treat Pretnick like a normal wizard, but the fact was, he wasn’t a normal wizard anymore. Until there was a cure, or at least a treatment, for lycanthropy, Pretnick’s life would not be normal, and he would have to get some other kind of work, perhaps something that was only part-time. In a shop, or something of that sort. Of course, there was such a prejudice against werewolves that it would be difficult for him to find anything at all.
Minerva’s ruminations depressed her and left her with no appetite for dessert. Instead, she sipped a cup of tea and let the conversation flow around her. Her attention perked up when Albus tapped his glass. Everyone fell silent.
“I would like to thank you all for taking time from your holidays to return for the meeting tomorrow morning. I know you are all curious about the summons, and your patience is admirable. Breakfast will be served in the Great Hall tomorrow morning beginning at half past six, for the early birds among us. Other meals will also be served in the Great Hall while more of us are in residence. I look forward to seeing you all at eight-thirty here in the staff room.”
With Albus’s announcement, a few of the staff got up and headed off, while others finished their desserts. Minerva had got the impression she was to be included in an after-dinner meeting with Gertie, but she wasn’t sure.
“Albus,” she said, turning to him, “you mentioned something about showing me the Ravenclaw guest room.”
“Yes, yes, indeed.” He smiled at her. “We can do that right now, if you like. Let me just have a word with Gertie, and we can be on our way.”
Waiting for Albus, Minerva stood in the doorway of the staff room and watched him go over to Gertie, place a hand on her shoulder, bend over, and speak close to her ear. When Gertrude turned to respond, Minerva could see the intent look on her face, but she was more distracted by the thought that as Gertrude spoke, Albus was so close to her, he could breathe in her words with her breath. She controlled her response enough so that she didn’t wince outwardly, but the intimacy of their conversation caused her to avert her eyes and repeat her mantra, “his private life is private and none of my business,” to which she added, “she is his Deputy, she is his Deputy, she is his Deputy.”
Minerva desperately wished that she could adjust better to being around Albus. They were friends. But the closer they seemed to become, the greater her tension. And tension was what had caused all the problems between them last week. She had to get over it. She had no right to be jealous of Albus’s relationship with Gertie. But right or no, Minerva was jealous. Yet if she were to be that close to Albus, even here in the staff room, she feared her feelings would leak through and everyone would know. Worst of all, Albus would know. He would see it in her eyes and believe her infatuated. Sometimes, she was just fine; she could sit beside him and speak with him, walk with him, hand on his arm, and be just fine, but at other times, it was as though she lost the ability to think, breathe, or speak. If he were to speak to her as he was to Gertrude at that moment, his lips so close to her mouth, his hand on her shoulder, his breathe warm on her face . . . the mere thought of it caused Minerva’s heart to pound and her breath to catch in her throat.
Minerva escaped to the entrance hall to wait for Albus, and tried to clear her mind. She was in the midst of calming her breath and her heartbeat when she felt Albus behind her.
“Ready, my dear?”
“Yes, of course.”
The two started up the stairs. This was one of the days when Minerva thought that there were far too many stairs in the castle.
“I just wanted to tell Gertie to meet us in my office in an hour or so,” Albus explained.
“An hour?”
“Yes, my dear. She has heard everything I will be telling you, and by that time, perhaps Horace will have returned to the castle, and the four of us can meet together. I also asked her to check with St. Mungo’s and find out how Robert is doing so that she can update us,” he said in a low voice.
“Aren’t you going to include Wilhelmina and Johannes in the meeting?” Professor Dustern hadn’t been at dinner, so Minerva assumed she hadn’t returned yet. “As Heads of House, they surely could be informed this evening.”
“True, and I had considered it, but I would prefer to wait until tomorrow. Until then, it’s on a need-to-know basis, as the Muggles would say during the war.”
“I see.”
They reached the seventh floor using a different staircase than the one Minerva generally used to get to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.
“Here we are.” Albus placed his palm on the portrait of an adolescent boy, dressed in eighteenth-century clothing, reading at a table, shelves of books behind him. A breeze coming through the window next to him ruffled his light brown hair. He looked up with a smile when the Headmaster touched the painting.
“Albus!” he cried enthusiastically. “I mean, Headmaster Dumbledore! It is good to see you. Have you a task for me?”
“None but your usual duties, Paris; however, there will be a guest tonight. Please make him welcome.”
“Of course! A dignitary, perhaps?” said the boy hopefully.
“Not precisely. The new Charms teacher, Filius Flitwick. He was a Ravenclaw when he was a student, so I thought he would enjoy staying here.”
“I will make him very welcome, Albus – I mean, Headmaster.”
Albus smiled. “You may call me ‘Albus,’ if you like. It’s what we’re used to, after all.”
“You wish to set a new password?” the portrait asked.
“Yes.” Albus touched the portrait lightly with his fingertips. “Allegro.”
The Headmaster turned to Minerva. “Filius enjoys music,” he explained.
Minerva just nodded. She hadn’t realised it was so simple for the Headmaster to change a portrait’s password. She had assumed there would be some fancy ritual involved. Of course, when she changed the password to her suite, what she did was little different, but she used a password charm and her wand.
“So, give it a try, Minerva.” When she looked at him, confused, he added, “The password. Try it out.”
“Allegro,” Minerva said, addressing the boy in the painting.
“Welcome, ma’am!” he said as the door clicked open.
“This is Professor Minerva McGonagall, the Transfiguration teacher. She was in Gryffindor as a student.”
“Ah, I would have remembered her, otherwise, I am sure. She is beautiful now, and must have been unforgettable as a girl.” The portrait bowed to her. “Welcome, Professor McGonagall.”
“Thank you.” Minerva wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or insulted.
“You are very right, Paris. Unforgettable as a girl, and beautiful now,” Albus said, looking at Minerva with a peculiar expression on his face. She thought he almost looked sad, though his words were not.
Albus looked away quickly and opened the door to the guest suite, motioning for Minerva to enter before him.
“I have known Paris since I was a boy. He used to hang in the Arithmancy classroom in my day. At some point before I returned to teach, he was moved up here,” Albus said as he entered the small sitting room, furnished in bright blue and bronze, heavy blue curtains drawn back to reveal one south-facing leaded-glass window.
Minerva looked around. “This seems quite nice – and is this the bedroom?” She opened the heavily carved door on the west wall of the room.
The bedroom was similarly decorated, but had two windows, one on the west wall and one on the south. The bathroom was small, but more than adequate, Minerva thought for a guest room.
“It needs towels. There are no towels. And I imagine the bed linens need changing,” Minerva said.
Albus smiled and called a house-elf, unfortunately named Drooly, and asked him to see to it that the rooms be readied for the new Charms teacher.
“Righty-o, Headmaster! Drooly fixes everything real nice for new Ravenclaw Professor!”
The two left the suite with a wave to the portrait of young Paris.
“Aren’t we going the wrong way, Albus?” Minerva asked, puzzled by the turn they had taken down a small side corridor. “Surely one of the main staircases – ”
“Ah, Minerva, you are about to be introduced to one of the little secrets of the castle,” he answered with a wink and a conspiratorial grin. “A little Headmaster’s short-cut, you might call it.”
Minerva raised her eyebrow, but followed curiously. The side corridor ended with an ancient, heavy-looking oak door, bound in iron. It was clearly a door; although there was no handle, it had great iron hinges down the left side.
Albus put a hand to the door and said, “Peppermint pillows.”
The door glowed slightly beneath his hand before it swung toward them to reveal a narrow stone staircase no wider than the door itself. Minerva could only see the first few steps as the rest were shrouded in darkness. She shivered involuntarily. But a gesture from Albus, and the stairs were lit from torches set at intervals on either side. She could see now that it was a spiral staircase, although, unlike the one that opened at the gargoyle, this one didn’t move.
Minerva followed Albus into the stairway, jumping slightly when the heavy door closed with a thunk behind her.
“All right, there, Minerva? Not claustrophobic, I hope. It’s just a short flight.”
“I’m fine.” In fact, Minerva was slightly claustrophobic, but with the torches flaring and Albus there with her, she wasn’t too bothered by it yet. She did hope it really was just a short flight, however. The stairs were steep and there was no handrail, but Albus stepped lightly and quickly ahead of her.
“I’m sorry I must proceed you, Minerva,” Albus said as they climbed the worn stone steps. “But it’s narrow, as you can perceive, and I need to open the door at the top.”
Albus had been correct; it didn’t take them long to reach a door that matched the one at the bottom of the steps.
Albus repeated the procedure he had performed below, and the door swung away from them to reveal a sort of barren antechamber with a few long, narrow windows on the right. There was another set of stairs across the way, leading further up. Minerva hoped they weren’t taking them, as well; although there was no door at the bottom, they were as narrow as those they had just come up. If Albus brought her this way again, she might transform into her Animagus form, Minerva thought. It would be much more comfortable.
Fortunately, Albus opened the door on their left and gestured for her to proceed him into the room ahead. Minerva walked through the door and was surprised to find herself in the Headmaster’s suite. In the Headmaster’s bedroom, to be more precise. Minerva tried not to think about the fact that she was now standing in Albus’s bedroom, and tried not to look around, curious though she was, having not had a good look at the room before. Without a word, Albus crossed the room, opened a door and led Minerva into his sitting room.
“Well, my dear, that was much faster, don’t you think, than going all of the way back down to the second floor and riding the other stairs up to my office?” Albus smiled, but Minerva thought he looked tired.
“It was, indeed. You know, today when I posted all of those letters and made the trip back and forth to the Owlery, I wondered that you ever post your own letters at all! But with that short-cut, it’s not so far, is it?”
“No, not at all. There are a few other short-cuts such as that throughout the castle – not leading here, but equally convenient for a Headmaster in a hurry,” Albus answered. “Would you mind if we talked here before going down to the office, my dear?”
“This would be fine, Albus.”
Albus sank down onto the settee, letting out an audible sigh.
“You know, Albus, we don’t have to talk about the situation now. You have to tell Professor Slughorn about it in a little while, anyway. If I am going to be there, I will hear it then.”
Albus smiled slightly. “Ah, but I would not say to Horace all that I might say to you, Minerva.”
“It can wait, though, can’t it? I know the basics of what happened and what you want to propose tomorrow. You look quite done in; this day must have been very stressful for you.”
“You look rather tired, yourself, Minerva. You should sit down. Come, sit beside me.”
When Minerva had sat down next to him, Albus continued, “You may be right, my dear. We are both tired, and we have less than a half hour before Horace will be here. Perhaps we should speak of something else. But I do want to tell you,” he said, gazing at her warmly, “how very much I appreciated being able to leave everything here in your hands today; knowing I did not have to worry about that was a relief. Thank you very much, my dear Minerva.”
Albus briefly touched her forearm and gave it a light squeeze. Minerva believed she saw the same sad expression pass fleetingly across his face that she had seen earlier. He must be fatigued and distressed about Pretnick’s fate, she thought.
“You’re welcome, Albus. You know that you can call on me at any time for anything at all,” she said. Remembering Gertrude’s words to her in the garden, she added softly, “Whatever you need, Albus, that I can give you, is yours. I hope you know that.”
She thought for a moment that she saw a tear in his eye, but it was only a trick of the light.
“Thank you. You have a very generous spirit, Minerva. I do hope that I don’t tax it unduly,” he said quietly.
“Albus, you must call on me if you need me! I am not simply one of your teachers, I am your friend. Please,” she said, “don’t behave as though you ask too much of me. You do so much, and you must know how much I – how much I want to be able to help you.”
Albus nodded. “Yes, my dear, and I will be sure to remember that. But you must promise me that if I ask too much or become tiresome or unappreciative, you will tell me.”
Minerva laughed lightly. “You could not ask too much of me, Albus, and as long as you refrain from claiming you are uncongenial company, I doubt you will ever become tiresome, but if you seem unappreciative, well, I might remind you of this conversation.”
Albus leaned back, seeming to relax completely for the first time since he’d received the owl from St. Mungo’s.
“Why don’t you close your eyes for a few minutes, Albus? I can go down and wait for Gertrude and Slughorn, and when he arrives, I’ll come get you.”
“Not necessary, Minerva.”
“Not necessary, but a good idea.” Minerva looked at him and was almost overwhelmed by the urge to take him in her arms and hold him, telling the whole world to sod off – at least until Albus was rested. Instead, resigned, she just took his hand as she stood. “Especially if Slughorn is late, which he may be, you might as well use the time to rest.”
“I’m not doddering yet, Minerva,” Albus said, tensing up slightly.
Minerva shook her head and smiled down at him, not taking offense. “You most certainly are not, Albus. But you have had a long day.” She touched his cheek lightly with her fingertips, in lieu of the kiss she wished to give him. “Let me do this for you, Albus.”
The words were an echo of those she had said so many years ago after Carson’s death, and he gave in with a smile. “All right, my dear. I could use a short nap, I suppose.”
Minerva went downstairs, leaving Albus stretched out on the couch. It had been so easy to touch and even to kiss Quin, whom she barely knew, really, and yet with Albus, whom she had known for so many years and whom she loved so much, it was a constant struggle to touch him and not to touch him. . . . She remembered Quin’s words about how her joy would die if she did not allow herself to love him openly, letting him know that she loved him and giving him the opportunity to accept her love and love her in return. But that could not happen; the opportunity for acceptance was also an opportunity for rejection. He would be gentle and kind to her, but he would never again look at her the same way, and their friendship would be ruined. She could maintain this friendship, Minerva thought, and love him as a friend. That would be enough. It would have to be.