Resolving a Misunderstanding

Minerva spent the morning in the garden, helping her mother with her herbs. She mentioned what Johannes had said about microclimates and managing them magically even without a greenhouse, and Egeria said she’d be interested in having him up for a consultation on some of her fussier plants. Minerva assured her that she thought Johannes would be happy to come up and take a look at the garden as a favour to them if they could offer a decent tea with some of Egeria’s cream cakes.

“In fact, I was thinking of having a few people for lunch or tea one day while I am home, if that would be all right with you. Either this weekend, or possibly after I get back from the warding.”

“The warding?”

“I’m sorry, I thought I’d mentioned it . . .” Minerva suddenly realised that there was something else she hadn’t mentioned to either of her parents. “A few days ago, I agreed to become Gryffindor Head of House, and – ”

Egeria dropped her trowel and threw her arms around her daughter in an unexpectedly energetic embrace. “Oh, how wonderful! Head of Gryffindor! I’m so proud of you! Why didn’t you tell us sooner? We have to celebrate! And of course have your friends come up. Albus must be so pleased!” She drew back and smiled ecstatically at her youngest child.

“Well, I’d rather not celebrate until it’s a done deed – if something happens, and – ”

“Ah, what could happen? But all right, I understand. We’ll still have a special dinner tonight, though. Melina will be coming by this evening – she wants to talk to her ‘Aunty Min’ about something, no doubt to do with her young man – and we’ll open a nice bottle of wine. Not to celebrate, of course! Come, let’s go tell your father. Of course, he’ll likely ask you again why you couldn’t have been a Ravenclaw as he was, but he’ll be as pleased as I, I am sure of it.”

Minerva laughed. “Well, it’s a good thing I was in Gryffindor, as that’s the only reason I am Head of House. There’s no one else available. The current Head is leaving in December and I am now the only Gryffindor on the faculty. Otherwise . . .”

“The only Gryffindor?”

“Yes . . . the other Gryffindor, Robert Pretnick, will be unable to continue as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He was bitten by a werewolf the last full moon.”

“Oh, no! The poor soul! Is he still in St. Mungo’s?” Egeria asked.

“Yes, but I believe he’s scheduled to be discharged this weekend. The Headmaster wants him to stay at his cottage when he’s released. He’s going to see him about it today, I believe.”

“I do hope he has someone to talk to . . . that can be so difficult on a person. Does he have family?”

“Muggles, and he refuses to tell them,” Minerva said, sounding discouraged. “But a number of the staff have been to visit him. I’ve been myself a few times.”

“Oh . . .” Egeria sighed and squeezed her daughter’s shoulder. “I am sorry, sweetness.”

“What? Why?”

“I am sure you would be the first choice for Head of House in any case, but you will always feel it was got at the expense of this man’s misfortune. I know you. But I am sure that Albus is pleased.”

“I suppose he is. And he did ask me about it before Pretnick was bitten. But now I feel as though he had no choice.”

“Well, the current Head isn’t leaving until December. I am sure that if he wanted to, Albus could find someone else. I am sure he wanted you in that position, just as he wanted you as his Transfiguration teacher. Well, let’s go tell your father the good news, then we’ll get some lunch! Rhubarb compote for pudding!” she said with a grin, knowing it was still one of Minerva’s favourites.

Minerva returned her mother’s smile. “That sounds wonderful!”

Minerva swallowed the last bite of rhubarb compote and leaned back with a sigh. “That was a wonderful lunch, Mother. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetness! You are always complaining about the Hogwarts meals, so I thought you might enjoy a few of your favourite dishes while you were home.”

“It just tends to be heavy and rather monotonous. It’s actually somewhat better during the summer, I think.”

“Probably because they are only feeding adults, not children,” her mother answered.

“Unless one counts the Hogwarts Headmaster, of course,” Minerva said with a laugh. “I caught him a week or so ago at Fortescue’s. His notion of a healthy lunch was an ice cream sundae with bananas and cherries in it.”

“He seems fairly healthy; I doubt a treat now and then will hurt him.”

“He has dessert at every meal, Mother. He even eats sweets with his breakfast when he can.”

“As I said, Minerva, he seems a very healthy wizard. He probably burns a lot of energy during the day.”

“Yes, well, that may be true, but Poppy had to put him on a vitamin potion because he was burning the candle at both ends and not eating properly.”

“If he’s not getting enough rest, his sweet tooth may get worse,” her mother said. “I’ve noticed that with some people. Their energy flags, and instead of getting the rest they need, they attempt to compensate by eating more sweets.”

“He doesn’t get enough rest, although he has promised me he will try to get to bed earlier.”

A slight smile played around Egeria’s lips. “So, you are looking after him?”

“What? No, no, not exactly. I’ve just been helping him this summer while the Deputy Headmistress has been away, and I happened to notice that he seemed fatigued. That’s all.” Minerva tried not to blush.

“He is very fortunate to have you there with him, Minerva. I am sure that is one reason he would like to have you as Head of Gryffindor. You are such an asset to him.”

Minerva nodded and took a sip of tea.

Merwyn, who had been listening to the conversation in the distracted way he had, said, “I have no doubt that he will be very happy to have you working more closely with him. He told me what an excellent job you have been doing. That was a lovely afternoon we spent. Quite the chess master, your Albus! I mentioned you play.”

“Yes, he told me that last night. And then promptly shredded me in our first game. He caught me off-guard, but he won’t do that again.” Minerva grinned at her father. “Maybe you could give me a few tips, tell me what strategies he uses, that sort of thing.”

“He is a very flexible player. I don’t believe he has only a few set strategies.”

“Mmm. I was afraid you would say that . . . I suppose the only thing for it is for me to get more practice before our rematch, then. What do you say to a few games while I am home?”

Merwyn laughed. “When have you ever known me to turn down a chess game?”

“When you have been in the middle of some particularly fascinating problem in archaic spells or an especially tricky translation,” Minerva said, smiling.

“Well, I haven’t found anything terribly fascinating recently, so would you like to play this afternoon?” Merwyn asked.

“I’d love it, Dad. I just have a couple letters I would like to write at some point before Melina arrives for dinner.”

“All right, you two – go play your game, but take it outdoors. Don’t lock yourselves away in that library all afternoon. Get some fresh air!” Egeria said. “I’ll have Fwisky or Orents bring you some lemonade out in the gazebo.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Merwyn said with a cheeky grin, winking at Minerva. “It’s no wonder that our little girl has taken to looking after Albus, given your example!”

“Oh, Dad!” Minerva said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly and throwing her napkin at him as she stood. “That’s a wonderful idea, Mother! Send Orents, though. I thought Fwisky was looking a bit ragged this morning. Is she all right?”

“Tchierie’s death has been hard on her, and I think she’s been too proud to say anything to us. I’ll take a look at her this afternoon.”

Minerva nodded, remembering Fwisky’s cheerful mate. “Do you think she would mind if I brought flowers to his grave?”

“No, I think that would be lovely. I’ll let her know you would like to do that. I’m sure she will be happy to give you leave to visit their cemetery.”

“Of course, she will give you the same answer she gave me when I asked last week,” Merwyn said, standing himself, “but she will be glad, nonetheless, that you asked.”

“What did she say?” asked Minerva, curious, as they left the dining room.

“That she owned nothing and the cemetery was for our family house-elves, but that she was sure that Tchierie would have been honoured to know that his family wished to leave flowers at his grave.” Merwyn shook his head. “Strange creatures, house-elves. ‘Beings,’ I suppose I should say. One minute, I feel as though they are as much my family as you are, and the next minute, I feel as though they are entirely alien. Sometimes, I even feel . . . as though . . .”

“As though you are a child in their care, not the master of the house?” Minerva asked.

“Precisely.” Merwyn said, cocking his head at her. “When did you become so wise, my Minnie-girl?”

“That wasn’t me. That was Professor Dumbledore. He said something similar to me recently,” Minerva said, ignoring her father’s use of her childhood nickname.

They fetched the chess set – the Muggle one – from the study and headed out to the gazebo. As they began to play, Minerva taking white and Merwyn, black, Minerva was distracted by thoughts of her leave-taking from Albus that morning. It was so peculiar of him to have used that Glamour for no particular reason. The entire time she had known him, his hair and beard had been long. Even when she had been a student, it had only been, at most, a few inches shorter than it was currently. It seemed to her that he kept the ends neatly trimmed and shaped, but he had never cut it shorter. She had seen him with his Glamour when he was being “General” Dumbledore, of course, and so perhaps it wasn’t as much of a shock to her to see him clean-shaven as it might have been, but she had still been taken aback. He was a good-looking man with or without the beard and hair; well, better than good-looking, she thought. Albus was an extremely handsome man with very good bones. But she found his beard and hair beautiful, and there was something about them that seemed to . . . not enhance his magic and his power, but perhaps to emphasise it. He could appear the kindly, comfortable, unthreatening old wizard, but beneath that was immense power, just thrumming beneath the surface, and to Minerva, it seemed that somehow his beard and hair were simultaneously both a mask and a symbol of that power.

Minerva hoped she hadn’t hurt his feelings when she hadn’t been enthusiastic about the change, but it had been an immense relief to learn that it was only an especially strong and effective Glamour. She remembered how soft his cheek had felt and how nice it had been to stroke her fingertips from his skin down to his beard. It would have been lovely to have traced his lips and to have followed her fingertips with her own lips, kissing his cheek and his mouth . . . just to gently caress his lips with hers, to show him how much she loved him . . . .

As her father took her second knight, Minerva realised that she hadn’t been paying proper attention to the game at all, and she groaned.

“Mind elsewhere, Minnie-girl?”

“Mmhm, afraid so,” she said, shaking her head at the position she found herself in. No matter what she did, her father would have her beaten in three or four moves. “I guess this wasn’t the best day to play.” She tipped over her king. “I concede. There was no way to win that.”

“Another game? Or just conversation . . . you have been very quiet.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Dad. Maybe another game later.”

Merwyn waved his wand and settled the chessmen back in their box, then waved it again and erased the chessboard he had charmed onto the table top.

“More lemonade?”

Minerva nodded. Thinking of Albus and his magical power reminded her of their wands and how he had told her that their magic was in harmony. Not the same . . . but that it resonated well together. She took a sip from her glass and looked over at her father, who was looking across the garden of wild flowers with unfocussed eyes. Minerva was familiar with that distracted expression.

“If you have work you’d like to be doing, I don’t want to keep you from it, Dad.”

“Hmm? What? Work? No, I was just thinking about your mother and our trip to Amsterdam. I wasn’t entirely sure about her idea of a holiday, but it was nice to spend a few days away, and even nicer to return.”

“Will you be going back again? And how was Robert’s wife?” Minerva asked.

“I don’t know as I will go with your mother every time she pops over, since she plans to see her every couple of weeks, but we will likely go together again next time, too. Thea is fine, I think. Your mother believes she can help her. She didn’t tell me very much about it, but she seemed optimistic, and Robert looked much happier when we left than he had when we arrived. Quiet young fellow. Not at all like his father.”

“You knew his father?” Minerva had thought that her mother had mentioned something about that, but she had forgotten it.

“Yes. Not terribly well. But he had an interest in Ancient Runes and archaic spells, and Professor Futhark introduced us. His work with the Ministry at the time bored him, I think. We actually had quite a correspondence for a while, though we rarely saw one another.”

“I never knew this. Did you know his wife?”

“Your Arithmancy teacher?” Merwyn shook his head. “Not really. I believe we met once, possibly twice, shortly after they married. I remember she was quite pretty, but rather quiet. She seemed to be a warm person and a good listener, though. Which, given her husband’s out-going personality, was probably a good thing.” He grinned.

Minerva could barely keep her face straight. Pretty? Warm? A good listener? Perhaps he was remembering someone else, had her confused in his mind with a different witch. This had all been a long time ago, after all. “When was this?”

“Hmm . . . I think that Professor Futhark introduced us in nineteen-oh-seven. I remember because that’s the year that Malcolm was born and your mother and I married. It may have been oh-six, but right around then. We corresponded on and off for about fifteen years or so, but then he married, and a few years later, he and his wife moved to Germany for his work, and with his increased responsibilities, I don’t believe he had as much time to write. We hadn’t fallen completely out of touch, and I always thought that at some point, we’d pick it up again, but then he died about a dozen years later. It was tragic in so many ways,” her father finished quietly.

“Do you know how he died?” Minerva asked hesitantly.

“Yes. More than I wish to, anyway. Nothing you would want to know, Minnie-girl.”

“I heard what was done to him . . . what Grindelwald did to him. It was beyond horrific.” Minerva shuddered involuntarily and her father put a warm, comforting hand on her arm.

They sat in silence for a while, then Minerva said, “Did Robert remember you? Or had you never met?”

“No. I believe he was familiar with my name only because he knew of you. He was a toddler when the family moved to Berlin, and I had never seen him. My friendship with Reginald was developed and maintained through our correspondence. We weren’t close, by any means; our letters occasionally touched on our personal lives, but they were chiefly regarding our shared academic interests. He was a good man, though, and his death was a great loss to the wizarding world. I am glad that your mother will be able to help Robert and his wife.”

Minerva nodded. “I am sure they have good Healers in Amsterdam, but I thought perhaps Mother might have something different to offer. I’m glad I suggested it.”

“Yes, and I think Egeria enjoyed the trip. I’ve always been more the homebody, and she’s always enjoyed seeing and doing new things. I am content merely to learn new things and generate new ideas. That’s why her work was so appropriate for her – it gave her the opportunity to pop about the country while at the same time she could take care of folk, which she loved just as much. She never would have been happy working in the same place day after day. Malcolm takes after her in that regard, although I think even your mother is worried about him now. At fifty, he should be settling down, but when we saw him last week, he was talking about going to Poland to visit a friend, and you know how that usually ends up – first Poland, then Russia, then Mongolia, then Fiji, he just would keep going . . .”

“He seems happy enough with his life, though, Dad. It would be nice for you to be able to see more of him, of course, but he always does come back,” Minerva reminded him. She couldn’t relate to Malcolm’s wanderlust, either, but it seemed to suit him, and he always seemed to get along financially; between procuring rare potions ingredients and taking care of “troubles” for people whom he met in his journeys, he more than made ends meet. His needs were simple, as well. Right now, his two room flat in Aberdeen suited him well, although Minerva had the impression that he could have afforded something larger if he wished.

“I know, but one can’t keep that sort of thing up forever. It would be nice to see him . . . develop some social ties, I suppose.”

Malcolm was warm and interesting with many entertaining stories of his travels, and people usually took to him immediately, but he was nonetheless an odd wizard with strange interests and a seemingly insatiable need to see and experience new things, and not prone to making close friends. He appeared to have acquaintances of all sorts around the world, but Minerva didn’t know as he’d ever had a girlfriend, although she didn’t think he was interested in wizards, either. She just thought he was as happy in his own company as he was in the company of others – sometimes even preferring to be alone – and that this freed him from the usual ties that keep a person “settled,” as her father had put it.

“He has been in Aberdeen longer than he’s been any one place since he left school, though, Dad. Maybe the trip to Poland would be just that. It might satisfy his need to travel and he would return here afterward.”

“Mmm. Perhaps. And, as you say, Minnie-girl, he does seem happy. And he has been dropping by to see Perseus and Helen regularly, so perhaps he is settling down more. But I don’t know what he is doing with his days. Without a job to go to, I am afraid he will become bored and restless again.”

“He has never held a job long, Dad. I don’t think he needs the money. A job would more likely bore him and drive him to want to get away. I don’t think he would like the routine.”

Merwyn smiled at his daughter. “You’re right, of course. I still think you should have been sorted into Ravenclaw! My brilliant daughter!”

Minerva laughed. “Well, I’ve been very happy to be in Gryffindor. I’ll have to tell Malcolm! He’ll be pleased, to be sure. Of course, Morgan and Murdoch will be happy for me as well, but it’s different for a Gryffindor.”

“I was half-surprised you weren’t sorted into Slytherin, then we would have had equal representation in all of the Houses, but you had to be contrary, as always, Minnie-girl, and get sorted into the same House as Malcolm. Broke the streak – Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw . . . then Gryffindor again!”

“I would like to think that, for all Professor Dumbledore insists that there are some noble qualities to Slytherin, that no McGonagall would be sorted into that House. And I am very glad that I wasn’t. Little snakes.”

“Tut tut, Minerva! As a teacher, shouldn’t you be more even-handed?”

Minerva sighed. “Of course. And I work very hard to be. In fact, I sometimes think that I work so hard at not acting out of prejudice against their House that I am a bit too easy on them.”

“We’re all very proud of you, Minerva. I hope you know that. And I am sure that Albus is, as well.”

Minerva nodded. “Thanks, Dad. It still means a lot to me that you and mother are proud of me.”

“And Albus.”

“Yes.”

“He was quite laudatory of you last he was here. He is very fond of you, you know, Minerva.”

Minerva swallowed and nodded.

“I think he cares for you a great deal. Not just as one of his teachers, I mean.”

Minerva nodded again. “We are becoming better friends.”

“I am glad to hear that. I know he has always meant a lot to you. It is good to know that you are becoming closer.”

There was that word again, “closer.” Poppy used it almost every time she spoke to Minerva of Albus. It was becoming an irritant. “Closer.” As though they could ever truly be close, as close as she wished they could be. Minerva sighed involuntarily.

“Something wrong?” Merwyn asked.

“Nothing. Although I believe you both overestimate Professor Dumbledore’s feelings and how close we might become. I am one of his teachers, as you pointed out. And he doesn’t appear to need friends, at least not many, and I doubt I would be one of those few who would actually become very close to him.”

“Every man needs friends, Minerva. And Albus as much or more than the next wizard. I don’t know him well, of course, but we have spent some time together, and I believe that he values your friendship a great deal. You shouldn’t dismiss that, not if you are becoming better friends, as you say. It is not fair to treat a friendship lightly.”

“I don’t! Don’t be ridiculous, Dad. I never said anything of the sort. But he does have other friends. And some far more suited to him than I am, without a doubt.”

Merwyn raised an eyebrow. “More suited than you? What do you think is wrong with you?”

Minerva couldn’t help but laugh. “Nothing is wrong with me, Dad. It’s just that . . . I am so young and I am sure that there are other more interesting people with whom he could choose to spend his time.”

Merwyn shook his head. “Do you only choose your friends based on their age or how ‘interesting’ they are, Min? It seemed to me that he cares about you and enjoys your company. He certainly seemed quite happy when you two returned from your walk that afternoon, much happier than he’d been playing chess with me all afternoon, though I believe he enjoyed that.”

“I know he did; he said as much.”

“He enjoyed my company, Min, but your company made him happy.”

Minerva fought the blush creeping into her cheeks. Did her father guess at her feelings? She had never let one word slip, she was sure of it. And she was being so careful not to gush about him. . . .

“I am glad that you think so. And it is nice to have a few friends at Hogwarts,” she said noncommittally.

Thankfully, her father took that as a cue to change the subject. “And how is Poppy?”

“She’s well. She’s on holiday for most of the summer, of course, but I have seen her a couple of times. We went out for her birthday last week. That was fun.”

“Melina told us about Brennan’s . . . whatever-you-call it that Albus did. She was very grateful to you both. She happened to mention that Brennan gave you tickets to a concert. Did you go?”

“Yes, we did. It was quite nice, too. Albus enjoys music.”

Merwyn grinned. “Nice to hear you finally call him ‘Albus’; I was beginning to fear you’d had a falling out, with all the ‘Professor Dumbledore this’ and ‘Professor Dumbledore that’ – seemed rather formal.”

“Just habit,” Minerva said, not liking her father’s grin.

“So you two had a good time?”

“Yes. As I said, we both enjoyed it. It was thoughtful of Brennan to give us the tickets.”

Merwyn just nodded, then said, “At lunch, you mentioned having some friends come to tea one day. Why don’t you invite Brennan and Melina? If you wish to, of course. But Brennan hasn’t been here yet and it would give him an opportunity to meet more of the family if you also invite your brothers. I don’t know if Morgan and his wife will be able to come, but perhaps you could persuade Malcolm. Of course, this is your occasion, and I don’t want to tell you whom to invite.”

“No, that’s a fine idea. It might actually make it more comfortable for me, in fact. One reason I am having friends by is in order to invite Gertrude Gamp and repay her hospitality to some small degree, but we aren’t what you would call ‘close’ by any stretch of the imagination, and if it were just a few people, I’m afraid it might become awkward,” Minerva explained. “I was thinking of inviting Poppy, anyway, and she and Melina get along quite well, so it makes sense to invite Melina and Brennan. Mother would like to speak with Johannes Birnbaum about her garden, so I hope he can come. I’ll invite Morgan and Fiona, but I won’t be surprised if they can’t make it, and Murdoch and Malcolm, as well. And Quin – he’s a wizard I met at the Gamps; I may have mentioned him. He’s quite out-going and I think he’d smooth any potentially awkward moments. I’m also hoping that perhaps he and Poppy might hit it off. She says she’s not interested, but maybe once she met him. . . . As Albus is always telling me, he’s quite a catch.” Minerva made a face.

“He says that?” Merwyn appeared puzzled.

“Yes. Quite persistently. It’s rather annoying. Quin really isn’t interested in dating, although I think if he met the right witch, that might change, and although I like Quin, I am not interested in him that way. Albus seems to think I should be. He’s worse than Mother.”

“That’s . . . interesting,” Merwyn said thoughtfully. “I suppose he thinks he is looking after your best interest.”

“Perhaps. Anyway, I think I will invite a number of people and see who can come. We’ll be a bit wizard-heavy, but I don’t think it should be a problem.”

“You didn’t mention Albus. Aren’t you going to invite him?”

Minerva hesitated. “I may . . . but I haven’t decided yet. I doubt it, though.”

“As I said, it’s your guest list! Now, what about another game? Or, if you promise not to tell your mother that I drew you in from the fresh air, you could come take a look at the proofs for my new book.”

“I’d like to see the proofs, actually. Let’s go in.”

After they had looked at the proofs for a while, and her father told her she could take them upstairs with her and read through them at her leisure, Minerva looked around her father’s study at the books shelved two deep in the bookcases that lined the walls.

“Interested in something in particular?” Merwyn asked.

“A book on wand-making, if we have one. It would probably be in the library, though, not here with your books.” Most of the texts in her father’s study were concerned with linguistics and ancient spells, though occasionally another book would end up there after he brought it into his study to use and then never returned it to its shelf in the library.

“Wand-making? I was unaware you had an interest in that craft, Min.”

Minerva looked over at her father. He might actually be able to help her find the information she was looking for if he knew why she was interested in it.

“Do you remember bringing me to Ollivander’s for my wand?”

Merwyn laughed out loud. “How could I forget? That was a very, very long morning. Do you remember that I left at about ten and owled your mother to tell her that we wouldn’t be home for lunch as we’d planned, since we hadn’t even made it past the first shop yet?”

“No, I’d actually forgotten that. But the rest of the morning seems burned into my memory. I didn’t think I was ever going to get a wand.”

“Ollivander told me afterward that he had never taken more than a half hour to fit a student with their first wand.”

Minerva drew the wand from her pocket. “It turns out that this wand is rather special.” She paused, trying to determine how to proceed. “Have you ever heard of mated wands?”

“Mmm, yes, they’re like brother wands, but there is some special connection between the woods as well as their having near-identical cores.”

Minerva was surprised despite herself. She had never heard of mated wands before Albus had told her of them. Of course, her father was much older and had spent his entire life in study; she probably should not be surprised.

“Do you know anything more?” she asked.

Merwyn squinted at nothing, thinking. “I believe . . . I believe I knew more at one time, but whatever that was has moved on to make room for something else in this old brain. I do know that the woods are not the same; that would make the wands twins, not mates. And there are supposed to be some special attributes both of the wands and those who wield them.”

Minerva blinked. “And those who wield them?”

“Yes. But I don’t remember much about that, I’m afraid. No doubt we can find a book or two with more about it. Am I to take it that you have a wand that has a mate?”

“Yes, I just found out a few days ago, actually.”

“And may I guess as to the identity of the owner of the other wand? Albus Dumbledore?”

Minerva’s mouth almost dropped open. “Did you know about this already and not tell me?”

“No, but it makes sense. So I am right, then. You and Albus possess mated wands.” Her father grinned. “Well, isn’t that . . . interesting. I presume he told you?” At Minerva’s nod, he continued, “I am sure we can find some information for you, although I don’t know as it will go much beyond what Albus was able to tell you. Your wand is of ivy, so what is his? Oak?”

“No, that was something else I learned. My wand is of magical ivy, not common ivy – ”

“So his is of yew, I presume . . . he never struck me as an oak wizard. Yew . . . how interesting.” Merwyn smiled again. “And Hedera pythonica; quite an intriguing combination. Very appropriate, wouldn’t you say?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure what you mean.”

Merwyn shrugged. “Let’s go into the library, see if we can find you that book.”

A half hour later, they had pulled two dusty tomes from some upper shelves, and Minerva began to wonder whether she could also find a book or two about magical drains and instinctive staunching when there was a loud crack in the front hall.

“Must be Melina,” Merwyn said. “She still makes a racket.” He looked out the window, judging the time of day. “She’s a bit early, but I think that she was anxious to talk to you. I think she wants your help with something to do with her young man.” Merwyn chuckled. “She introduced us a few days ago. Well-suited, I’d say, despite the rather obvious differences.”

“She’s too young to be marrying at all, let alone someone from such a different background. She’s not even twenty-one yet! I do wish someone could talk some sense into her.” Minerva sighed.

“I believe they will be fine. Normally, I might agree with you, but seeing them together, I have no doubt that it wouldn’t make any difference if they waited until Melina was a little older.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Melina’s arrival and her subsequently dragging Minerva back outside to walk in the garden. Minerva’s reading would have to wait until that night.