Reverberations
Minerva was sitting at her desk when she again felt the tickling in the palms of her hands and the vibration in the soles of her feet that indicated the wards had shifted to her. From what she remembered from her time assisting Albus with the wards during the summer before her seventh year, he was able to seamlessly transfer the wards to and from Dippet without being in the Headmaster’s presence, but in order to transfer them back to Albus or to one of the other Heads of House, Dippet actually had to be in the physical presence of the other person. Dumbledore had explained that it was very useful for him to be able to do transfer the wards discreetly, since it further camouflaged the fact that he actually held the wards most of the time, even when Dippet was present in the castle. If for some reason the person holding the wards had to leave the grounds and was unable to pass them on, as soon as they departed, the wards would snap to whichever Head of House was present and closest to Hogwarts Heart. If no Head of House were available, the wards would simply “tend to themselves,” as Dumbledore put it. It was not ideal to have the wards unattended, since if there were an accident or if someone was attempting to foil the defensive wards, no one would be made aware of it, and there was also some benefit to having the wards tended by a true intelligence, rather than by the castle itself. Dumbledore had told her, though, that now that he had completed the most fundamental repairs on the ward lattice, the wards themselves would remain unaffected for a long time even without the annual renewal – years, in fact – and would only very slowly begin to disintegrate from the lattice, beginning with the wards that he had not yet repaired, and ending with the wards that helped maintain the physical integrity of the castle, which had been among the first that he had realigned. Hogwarts own magic was sufficient to maintain them without a Keeper, and although the infusion of magic at the time of the ward renewal each August assisted in retuning the wards and reinforcing the ties between Hogwarts and the Heads of House, and the Headmaster or Headmistress, it was not immediately essential to their continued functioning. If the wards were not renewed yearly, however, not only would the connection between the Heads of House and the castle’s magic begin to thin, but the lattice itself would, over time, weaken. The castle and the foundational wards could only do so much without the contributions and the stimulation provided by the annual ward renewal.
Minerva wondered why she had been installed after the ward renewal, and not before it. Obviously, since James was unavailable for the warding and Dustern’s contract term didn’t end until the third of August, it made sense for Dustern to take part in the warding, but she didn’t understand why Wilhelmina had participated in the warding, and not she. Minerva was also curious about how it was that Hogwarts knew she was a Head of House now. It must have something to do with the Gryffindor book accepting her. She wished that Hogwarts, A History, had discussed the wards and how Heads of House were chosen and installed, but she supposed it was just as well that that information was not commonly available. Nonetheless, Minerva Summoned her copy of Hogwarts, A History from its shelf and flipped through to find the chapter that described the rejection of the designated Head of Hufflepuff a few hundred years before.
She was about to begin reading that chapter when she decided to flip to the back of the book. For her eleventh birthday, her parents had given her a self-updating edition of Hogwarts, A History, with a one-hundred year subscription to the updates. Minerva wondered whether the book’s editors had yet added anything about her to the book. It wasn’t evident from the final page that they had, but the pagination had changed, so she used an indexing spell and found a page with her name on it. She smiled. There it was, in the chapter containing current descriptions of the Houses and their most recent accomplishments. It was just a few brief paragraphs, but now she was a part of Hogwarts, A History. Her name had been added to the table of Hogwarts staff when she began teaching, of course, but to her, that wasn’t the same as being mentioned in the text itself.
“On the second of August 1957, Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank, Care of Magical Creatures instructor, stepped down from her position as Head of Gryffindor and was replaced by Minerva M. McGonagall, Transfiguration Mistress. As a student at Hogwarts (1936 - 1943), McGonagall was first a prefect and then Head Girl, and achieved nine NEWTs (seven ‘Outstandings,’ in Ancient Runes, Astronomy, Charms, Defence, Herbology, History of Magic, and Transfiguration, and two ‘Exceeds Expectations,’ in Arithmancy and Potions, respectively).
“Professor McGonagall is known for her innovative work with the Ministry’s Committee on Experimental Transfiguration and her scholarly contributions to Transfiguration Today and Metamorphosis Monthly, but her most remarkable achievement was her defeat of Madame F. Feuilly, formerly of Beauxbatons, in an Apprentice’s Challenge in 1948. No Challenge had been issued in Transfiguration since 1696 in Halle, when an apprentice, K. Schmidt, Challenged his master, Master Friedrich Hauptmann, and failed. Following his failure, Hauptmann dismissed Schmidt, rather than releasing him, and the apprentice disappeared into obscurity. Of the six recorded Transfiguration Challenges issued between 1220 and the present, McGonagall was one of only two apprentices to be successful. Issuing the Challenge was certainly a hallmark of a true Gryffindor. McGonagall’s achievement, however, was Madame Feuilly’s downfall, and the latter witch left Beauxbatons in disgrace mere months after her defeat at the hands of the Gryffindor witch.
“There are rumours regarding McGonagall’s participation in covert missions during the Grindelwald era, but none have been confirmed, and it is known only that she first worked in a small office of the Department for International Magical Cooperation, War Division, following her NEWTs in 1943, and was promoted in January 1945. There are significant lacunae in her Ministry record surrounding the cause of her promotion and the sudden change in her duties, and one may draw the conclusion that McGonagall exercised some measure of Gryffindor bravery that brought her to the attention of her superiors.
“Professor McGonagall replaced Professor Dumbledore as Transfiguration teacher in December 1956. Dumbledore was Head of Gryffindor House until his elevation to Hogwarts Headmaster in November 1955. Notably, Dumbledore was McGonagall’s Head of House and Transfiguration teacher during all but McGonagall’s first year as a student, and she appears to be the eminent wizard’s natural successor. What we might next expect of Professor McGonagall is only speculation, but good authority has it that she may be in line to replace Gertrude Gamp as Deputy Headmistress, a position normally held by a Head of House and formerly held by Dumbledore himself. (See the entry on page 1,837 for the facts surrounding Professor Gamp’s unusual appointment as Deputy despite her never being a Head of House – the first such appointment since 1527.)”
Deputy Headmistress? Minerva had always had great respect for Hogwarts, A History, but this seemed a bit of unwarranted speculation on their part. Simply because she had followed Albus as Transfiguration teacher and then as Head of Gryffindor, it did not follow that she would become his Deputy. And although she was aware that there had been some resistance to the idea of having a non-Head-of-House as Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress, it hadn’t been particularly vehement. Gertrude was well-respected and had taught at Hogwarts for more than seventeen years when Dippet died. The fact that she was a Slytherin had helped there, and not only because it provided balance with Albus being a Gryffindor, but also because it seemed almost half of the Board of Governors were Slytherins and rather liked the notion of a Slytherin as Deputy, and if it couldn’t be Slughorn, they were just as glad that it was Gertrude, despite the fact that she was somewhat unconventional.
Minerva hoped that Gertrude didn’t see this. She might think that Minerva had designs on her job. But she probably wouldn’t have any reason to look at Hogwarts, A History, and fortunately the Daily Prophet hadn’t published that tidbit of speculation. Of course, Gertrude had said that she didn’t want to be Deputy forever, or some such thing, and hadn’t ever wanted the job in the first place, only taking it because Albus had needed her.
Minerva thought back on the conversation she had had with Gertrude that morning in Gamp garden. Knowing Gertie a bit better now, Minerva thought that the older witch had been simply impressing upon her that Albus needed help and support, and that she was in a good position to provide it and would be in an even better position if she became Head of Gryffindor. Gertie had been providing support to him for years, since before Albus became Headmaster, Minerva was sure. But being his Deputy was quite a different proposition from being his friend; Gertie now had taken on responsibilities for Hogwarts, by extension of her friendship with Albus, that she wouldn’t ordinarily have taken on. Dropping everything for Albus now meant something more than it had when he was the Deputy and she was just his friend. Or even if she’d ever been more than just a friend. . . . perhaps Gertie wouldn’t mind the book’s speculation, after all.
It was a rather absurd idea, though: she, Deputy Headmistress. She wasn’t even thirty-three yet, and even if her age wasn’t a factor, she had only been at the school less than a year. And she was a Gryffindor, the same House as the Headmaster – although the Headmaster was traditionally said to be Houseless upon taking up the position, and that’s why his robes reflected the symbols of all four Houses. There would doubtless be some opposition to such an appointment, even if not from the staff, from the Board of Governors. Now that the idea entered her head, though, Minerva found herself liking it, despite its improbability. As she had said to Gertrude herself, Flitwick might make an excellent Deputy. But would he be as devoted as Gertrude had been? He and the Headmaster were friends, but they hardly had the bonds that Albus and Gertrude did. Not that that was a necessary prerequisite. From everything Minerva had been able to tell, Albus had never been great friends with Dippet, although he seemed to like him fairly well, yet Albus had been completely devoted to Hogwarts and had served the school well. It was probably only an incidental benefit to the school and to Albus that Gertrude was so devoted to him personally. But Albus was an extraordinary wizard with extraordinary duties; he was also not only Hogwarts Headmaster, but he had obligations outside the school. Beyond that, he was a man who would take on too much, if given the chance, and although he was quite capable of delegating, he had a tendency to drive himself too hard. He needed someone to look after him personally, not just in his capacity as Headmaster. Minerva was sure that Gertrude would have done that for him even if she hadn’t been made Deputy, but it was much easier for her since she was.
If anyone spoke to Minerva about becoming Deputy, she would not shy away from it the way she had been so uncertain about taking up the position as Head of Gryffindor. There were three other Heads of House, but she doubted that any of them cared for Albus in any way approaching her concern for him, even on a platonic level. No, if Gertrude did want to leave her post, then Minerva would take it up if asked, and without hesitation. No doubt, Gertrude would continue to care about Albus and the school and could be counted on to lend a hand now and again if need be, but if she were no longer Deputy, she would want to be secure in the knowledge that whoever became Deputy after her would take care of Albus and occasionally protect him from himself.
Minerva suddenly sat up straighter and shivered slightly. Albus must have returned. She would just ask him about the wards. Minerva sent the book back to its shelf and left her rooms, taking the stairs at a trot. She wasn’t sure where Albus was, whether he had returned to his office before taking the wards back or had done so as soon as he passed through the gates, but she wanted to catch him before he became busy with something else – unless he was with one of the other staff members, of course. But she could wait for him in his office in that case, and if it were too long, she would just leave him a note that she would like to speak with him. There was no rush, but now Minerva’s curiosity was piqued, and she wanted to know more about it all as soon as possible.
Minerva thought she could hear someone else on the stairs below, and as she rounded the landing between the third and second floors, she caught sight of Albus making the same turn between the first and second floors.
“Albus!”
Albus looked up. “Minerva! Is anything wrong?”
“No, nothing. I just wanted to speak with you. Do you have a moment? I know that you’re busy, but – ”
“Not too busy for you, my dear,” Albus responded. “I have done what I could for today, anyway, for the most part. I finished up the two letters to the staff and the Board of Governors and Gertie was owling them for me. So I can certainly spare a few minutes for the Head of Gryffindor!”
Minerva smiled. “Actually, it’s in conjunction with that that I want to speak to you. My being Head of Gryffindor, that is.”
“Let’s go up to my office, then.”
As they walked down the corridor toward the gargoyle, Minerva remembered why he had left the school.
“I’m sorry, Albus, I should have asked immediately. Did you get Robert’s letter?” she asked.
“Yes, my dear, I did. I have not read it, however, as I did not wish to do so in the middle of the Ministry.”
Minerva nodded in understanding. “If you would like, we can discuss this later and you can read your letter.”
“The letter will keep a short while longer, I think,” Albus said as the gargoyle opened to them.
Albus let Minerva go ahead of him, and when they reached the top of the stairs, he stepped lightly in front of her and opened the door for her. A wave of his wand, and the lamps were lit. It was still light out, but it had been an overcast day, and the dark clouds now gathering warned of an approaching storm. Indeed, looking out the window, Minerva could see grey sheets of rain falling over the distant, mist-covered mountains and the occasional flash of lightening, too far off for its thunder yet to be heard.
“It is good you were able to Apparate back before the storm hit. I know you are a strong Apparater, but if there’s lightning, it’s probably best to avoid it,” Minerva said.
Albus nodded. “I have had to Apparate either into or out of areas with thunderstorms on a few occasions. It is highly uncomfortable and does take a greater degree of concentration than usual. Fortunately, I have never Splinched. Nonetheless, I would avoid Apparating in such a storm unless I had no other option, either to wait or to travel in some other manner.”
Minerva was pleased when he didn’t make a move to sit behind his desk. It seemed perhaps he would, indeed, be more open with her now.
“I was curious about the wards, the rewarding, and my position as Head of Gryffindor,” Minerva said.
Albus smiled, eyes twinkling. “You are never curious about just one small thing, are you, my dear?”
“Well, as you said at the time, we should have guessed that my Animagus form might be a cat,” Minerva said, returning his smile.
“Do you have more specific questions, or would you prefer a long, rambling dissertation that might keep us here till midnight?” Albus teased.
Minerva shook her head, smiling, and said, “Specifically, I was wondering first, why Wilhelmina had participated in the warding and why I hadn’t been installed beforehand, and second, how it is that you can pass me the wards when I’ve never done anything with them, and third, what it is that I feel when you take them back again.”
“Hmm, well, in answer to your first question, Wilhelmina had taken part in the ward renewal before, as you know, and I thought it would be valuable for you to see at least part of it done before you participated the first time. Also, and this is connected to your second question, you do need to be introduced to the ward lattice before you can actually work with it – at the moment, you can make changes to the portrait network in Gryffindor Tower, but until you are introduced to the ward lattice and Hogwarts magic, you can’t manipulate the wards or the portrait network in the rest of the castle. I can, in theory, pass the wards to anyone, although only someone who is or once was a Hogwarts Head of House or Headmaster or Headmistress can manipulate them. So you could react to a change in the wards or to an alarm, but you cannot at this time make any changes yourself. In order for Gertrude to be an effective Deputy, I introduced her to the wards when she took her post. Normally that is only done for Heads of Houses. It is usual practice for the newly installed Head to be introduced to the Hogwarts magic and the ward lattice on the same day they are installed, but because I still had a few minor tweaks to perform, including helping Johannes with a minor problem with the Ravenclaw portrait network, and the others had organised a celebration for you, I thought there was no hurry and we could do it any time between then and the first of September. Does that answer your questions?
“Yes, although I don’t understand the mechanics of the transfer and only remember what little I was told that summer that I worked on the wards with you and Gertrude.”
“I think it would be most helpful if you were to read the section on the warding that is in the Gryffindor book. Only the explanation in the Ravenclaw book is more thorough than the one there. After you have read that, you can ask me any specific questions you may have. Does that suit?”
“That’s fine – it makes complete sense, in fact. But what of my third question?”
“Your third – ah! What it is that you experience when I take the wards back – without a description of what you experience, I don’t know as I have any explanation, except to say that passing the wards to you is rather passive, as though you were standing there and I placed a scarf around your neck. You notice the scarf, but you needn’t do anything, and it’s a fairly unremarkable experience. On the other hand, when the wards return to me – unless you pass them to me – I am actually reaching out and taking them from you. They have had a little time to settle into your magic, and so you notice when I reach out and take them away – as though I am pulling on many small strings until they all snap back to me. I haven’t known anyone who claimed it to be more than slightly uncomfortable at the worst, and it’s usually just as I told you earlier, a slight sense of pressure against your magic, as though the air pressure had increased, then a bit of a breeze passing through your magic, then a sensation of lightness. Was it particularly uncomfortable for you, my dear? If it was, perhaps simply introducing you to the wards will ameliorate that effect.”
“No, and now I think I understand why I didn’t experience it quite as you said I would, since I know now that you are reaching out and taking them back. I am just surprised that I should feel it when you are so far away from me.” Her brow furrowed.
“What was it you felt, then?” Albus asked.
“You know that I said that I have sometimes used the musical metaphor when thinking of the way your magic feels, that I understood when you spoke of harmony and instruments playing in the same key?” When he nodded, Minerva continued, “Well, I am often able to sense your magic; even as a student, I was quite aware of it, despite not normally being particularly perceptive that way. At the time, I put it down to . . . to having so much familiarity with your magic from working with you, but now I see that it may have just as much to do with the fact that our magic resonates well together, as you put it – that whatever it is about our magical signatures that drew us both to these wands, or our wands to us, allows me to sense your magic in a way that I don’t usually sense the magic of others.”
“Yes, I see that – it actually crossed my mind after the occasion upon which you were able to sense my presence in the classroom during your tutoring session, but I said nothing of it, as I was not yet going to tell you of our wands,” Albus said, nodding. “But what does that have to do with your third question?”
“I could feel your magic as clearly as if we were touching and you were performing some spell nearby. It was . . . loud, to carry through on the music metaphor. Not unpleasant, merely unexpected, and I could feel that it was your magic passing through mine in this rushing way, more like a fast mountain stream than the gentle breeze that you described. And then there was the lightness that you mentioned, but I also felt cold afterwards – not physically, and it didn’t last, but . . .” Minerva shrugged.
“How very unusual.” Albus thought a moment. “Do you mind an experiment, Minerva? I don’t think there’s any danger to it. The usual way of passing the wards back and forth involves having the two individuals in physical proximity and using both wands. I have found that inconvenient, and after so many years of manipulating the wards, it is certainly just as easy for me to do it the way that I do. But I would like to see what you would experience if we were to pass the wards in the traditional manner.”
Minerva nodded. “I would be interested, too.”
He stood and she followed suit. “You need your wand out, my dear, and I, mine,” Albus said. “There we are. I will do it nonverbally as it’s a bit faster that way. Now hold your wand up, yes, like that.”
Albus raised his wand, holding it at an angle to Minerva’s, and a moment later, she felt a vibration in the soles of her feet and an itching in her palms.
Albus raised his eyebrows. “Well?”
“It was much the same, although slightly more intense. The other times, I felt a mild tickling in my palms and a vibration in the soles of my feet; this time, my palms seemed to itch for a moment.” She shrugged.
“All right, my dear, now we will try it with me taking them back. Just stand just as you were a moment ago and this time, set your mind with the notion that you are allowing me to regain control of the wards, almost in the way that you form intent when casting a spell.”
Minerva nodded. Albus raised his wand, pointing it straight up, then with a twist of his wrist, pointed the wandtip toward Minerva and then back toward himself.
“Oh!” Minerva gasped, and for a moment, she thought she might faint, not from lightheadedness, but from the sudden intense sensation of beauty surrounding her. She shivered, then blinked.
“Minerva! Are you all right? That wasn’t supposed to happen. I’ve never seen such a thing!” He reached out a hand to her.
“I am fine – what do you mean? I am afraid that whatever I was experiencing distracted me, and I didn’t really notice what happened.”
“First, you sit, then tell me what you experienced. Are you sure you are all right?” Albus asked, his concern evident.
“Quite fine, Albus. Although . . . it’s silly, but I wish we could do that again,” she said, blushing despite herself.
Albus furrowed his brow. “What happened?”
“It was, just for a moment, it was as though I heard, or felt, the most beautiful music and I saw . . . it was like a kaleidoscope of colours, beautiful, brilliant colour, but I could still see the room, it was just colour overlaying everything, and then there was a rushing sensation and I was surrounded by warmth and softness, and a bubbly tingling, and then it rushed away again, and was all gone and I felt . . . cold.” She blushed again. “It’s hard to describe. It was like that and it wasn’t. I don’t know as I really saw anything, or heard anything, for that matter, but it felt like that to me.”
“I think it best if we do not transfer the wards using our wands again until I am certain that I have not harmed you in some way, Minerva.”
“I feel absolutely fine now, Albus. And it was quite pleasant.” It was more than pleasant. Minerva thought that if it had continued, it would have been quite literally orgasmic. But that was something she certainly could not tell him.
“Mmm, perhaps, but it sounds more invasive than it should have been. I want to be certain that I am not having a negative effect on your magic or in some way, as unlikely as it would be, binding your magic to mine. Highly unlikely, of course, particularly given that there is no intent to do so, but I would rather be cautious. Although passing the wards certainly has become so mundane as to seem nothing more than passing the Quaffle, some of the wards themselves possess a deep and ancient magic, and they may be having some unexpected effects that are only being triggered because we are possessed of mated wands.”
“It could be partly the wands, but it could also just be the nature of your magic and mine. Perhaps even if you were to use a different wand, I would feel the same effect, just not to the same degree. I am, after all, more aware of your magic than is usual for me,” Minerva said.
“You may very well be right, Minerva, but I would rather wait. And now . . . I had some thought, when you mentioned it to me, that I might introduce you to the wards this evening, as it doesn’t take very long, but I think I would prefer to wait until I have had time to do some research and perhaps perform some experiments. I may wish to borrow your wand for a few hours one day, if you permit me.”
“Of course, Albus, whatever you think best. And just let me know when you would like the use of my wand – I can have a nap or something and let Blampa spoil me the way she thinks she ought to,” Minerva said with a grin.
“I am sure that we will be able to introduce you to the wards. The worst case scenario, I will use a different wand, or even have someone else perform the introduction, although that is not ideal. Although I do believe that I could trust Gertrude to do it correctly, or even Johannes or Horace, for that matter. But it would be best if I were to do it. It is one of the very few rituals formally approved by the Ministry that involves active blood-letting, and it is very important that it be performed properly. I would far prefer to do it myself, particularly . . .”
“Particularly?” Minerva asked, still trying to comprehend that this introduction that Albus had spoken of so lightly involved active blood-letting, usually associated only with the Darkest Arts, and with concern that there might be a very good reason for Albus not to trust it to someone else.
Albus looked up at her. He smiled slightly. “I have felt somewhat responsible for your well-being for a very long time, Minerva. I would simply not wish anything to go awry.”
“Is this business about the . . . the active blood-letting in the Gryffindor book, too?” Minerva asked, wondering why no one had said anything to her about it before.
“Oh, yes, it’s mentioned briefly by Gryffindor himself, and then there are a few remarks by some of the other former Heads of House. Of course, in Gryffindor’s time, it was not viewed in the same way that it is now. It wasn’t treated lightly, of course, because of the power behind any magic involving active blood-letting – or the use of any human blood, for that matter – but there weren’t the taboos upon it that there are now, and you would find a crofter using a blood ward on his home as casually as you and I cast an Anti-Apparition ward on our homes. More casually, in fact, as often the accompanying spells were not as complex or difficult as the ones we use today.”
“Yes, I had known that – I did attend Hogwarts, after all, and it would hardly be the ‘preeminent institution of wizarding education’ on the British Isles if I hadn’t picked that up somewhere along the way,” Minerva answered. “But you said something wasn’t supposed to happen – what was that? I’m afraid I was distracted by what I was experienced and didn’t notice anything else.”
“There was an echo between our wands, resulting in a rather interesting luminance. There is not supposed to be any visible radiance when this spell is performed properly, not without intending it, and I certainly did not intend it.”
“Was that what I saw, then?” Minerva asked.
“From what you say, you saw multiple colours that completely dominated your visual field.” Minerva nodded in response, and Albus continued, “This was primarily golden and was concentrated in a two-foot radius around our wands. What you experienced was internally generated, which is why I am concerned about what I may have done that had such an effect.”
“I think it was just the experience of your magic reaching into mine and reverberating that created it, that’s all,” Minerva answered. “I understand your concern, and appreciate it, but I don’t share it. Still, you need to do whatever it is to make certain of that, and that’s fine. But about this introduction to the wards . . . I’m sure it can’t be dangerous if generation upon generation of Heads have taken part in it, but I’m still leery of it, even with you in charge of it. More leery of any side-effects than of the ritual itself.”
“That is natural, my dear, and rest assured that it really is quite simple, as concerned as I am that it be done properly. It barely calls for any blood at all. It is just important that it be fresh and actively flowing when the ritual is performed. It’s just the slightest prick to the tip of one finger and a small dot of blood, and the pricking can be done magically without interfering with the rite, although there was a copper knife that was used for the purpose for a very long time, and that was what I used when I became Headmaster, just to honour tradition, in a matter of speaking.”
“Oh! When I think of active blood-letting, I think of, I don’t know, large gashes and subsequent copious haemorrhaging,” Minerva said, relieved.
“Oh, no, nothing like that at all; it never has been. Even if we were to use the copper knife – or any blade – we would still only require a small drop, and it needn’t be arterial blood, as in some of the oldest rituals,” Albus explained. “And it not only introduces you to the castle’s magic and the wards, but this ritual is what allows you both to draw on Hogwarts magic and to manipulate the wards; it also strengthens the Hogwarts magical field, which, in turn, lends support to the ward lattice. If anything, you will be donating more of your magic to the castle in this rite than blood, far more, though it should not prove a problem. You shouldn’t be any more tired afterward than you would be if you demonstrated a few basic spells to one of your classes. If you are, it is because of an error on my part and too much was drawn off – which is one of the reasons I want to do certain tests first to determine whether the amplification effect of our wands will prove a problem. I doubt very much that there could be any negative effects, but I want to be certain before we do the introduction.”
Minerva smiled. “That’s fine, then. Has anyone every balked at the ritual? And if so, wouldn’t it be better to mention it before the person is installed?”
“The information about the blood-letting isn’t precisely secret, but it is arcane and something that is not advertised, so to speak. I imagine that there may have been some who were uneasy with it, but I am unaware of any cases in which a Head, once installed, refused to participate in the ritual. And such a thing would have had to have been recorded if it ever did occur, simply because only after the introduction can an individual participate in the rewarding, and there hasn’t been a Head of House who has never participated in at least one. Except for Dagobert Farrier. But that is because he was killed just days after his installation and never had the opportunity.”
“Who was Dagobert Farrier?” Minerva asked, intrigued.
“A Hufflepuff Head of House in the early seventeenth century,”Albus answered. “He was killed by a jealous husband, apparently. Nothing to do with Hogwarts at all.”
“Ah . . . well, I do hope we are able to perform the introduction soon. Now that I know about it, I feel as though I’m not genuinely Head of Gryffindor yet.”
“You are, my dear, completely. Your name is in the Gryffindor book, after all, and that is the most important part. We will get the rest sorted out, I promise.”
Albus’s smile was so warm, Minerva felt as though her heart was going to leap from her chest, and she was overcome with the urge to go to him and embrace him, lean against him and feel his arms around her. Instead, she merely suggested calling for some supper.
“I am not particularly hungry, Minerva, but feel free to call Wilspy for something, if you like. I will be happy to keep you company.”
“No, I’m not very hungry, either. What about your letter?” she asked.
Albus sighed. “Yes, I do want to read it this evening.”
“Would you like me to leave? If you would like to read it privately, I understand,” Minerva said.
Albus shook his head and pulled the letter from his pocket. “No need for that . . .”
Minerva watched as Albus unfolded the parchment, the seal having already been broken by the Ministry officials. It was growing even darker as the storm approached, and Minerva lit another lamp for him to read by. As Albus read, his mouth became a grim line, and Minerva could see tears welling up in his eyes. When he was done, he held the letter loosely on his lap for a moment and looked away with unseeing eyes.
Finally, he took a breath and said, “If you would like to read it . . .”
“If it is private – ” Minerva began.
“It is, but you are not the public, my dear, and you . . . I do not know if Robert would have objected, but I do not.” He handed her the letter.
“4 August 1957
“Dear Albus,
“I want to thank you for your kindness, generosity, and hard work. Please know that I do appreciate it although I will not avail myself of it.
“Robert Pretnick, the Robert Pretnick whom you knew and whom you hired to teach at Hogwarts, died on the twelfth of July, bitten by a werewolf. I, who write you this letter, am a mere ghost in a shell. I know all that you have said about my life and my future, but my life ended when the werewolf took it from me. For all the good that you say I may yet do, I fear more the evil that will emerge three days a month, every month, until the day I die. If I live another fifty or sixty years, as the Healers have told me I might, that is six hundred-fifty opportunities for this evil within me to strike and curse another victim or, no better, to kill. To be safe every full moon, for three times six hundred and fifty of them, I do not believe that is likely. Possible, but not likely. How could I live with myself if I were to awaken after a full moon to discover that I had killed or infected another? And you know that a werewolf’s favoured target is a young child – to deprive a child from its family, or to deprive the child of a normal life, that would be far worse than death to me. I think of my own nephew, Matthew, and what it would do to our family if he were killed or so cursed, and I know that I cannot risk this happening to any child or any family.
“I am very glad that I was able to help Bertie Higgs and his family, and to save them from the fate that befell me and the poor creature whom I was forced to slay. He is a fine boy; my role in the family’s escape eases my heart, and I know that my life has been well-lived, even in its last hour.
“Please do not mourn me, or if you do, remember this: your care and kindness eased these dying days, for, indeed, I have been moribund now for weeks. Remember, too, that I do not die in despair, though some may see it that way, but in gratitude for what little good I have been able to accomplish in my life and that my death was in service to others. No other death could be happier for one who is a proud Gryffindor. I know that Professor McGonagall has been named our new Head of House; please pass on to her my warmest congratulations. I am proud to draw my last breath knowing that our House is in her care. Her visits in St. Mungo’s were very welcome, and I thank her for them.
“Please give my regards to all my former colleagues, and express my deepest gratitude to them for all of the heartfelt work they did on my behalf. I am thankful. If you are able to see my mother and my sister and her family, please tell them that I love them and hold them in my soul as I go.
“Good bye, Albus. I am sure we will see each other again sometime, wherever it is that Gryffies go to play when they depart this world.
“Yours sincerely,
“Robert J. Pretnick”
“Oh, Albus . . .” Minerva whispered.
“We will have a private memorial service for the staff on Tuesday,” Albus said softly. “I added that to the letters we sent out today. I have asked those who are able, to return to the school by tomorrow afternoon. We will have a brief staff meeting at three o’clock. That will give you and me time to deliver Robert’s letter to his relatives.”
“Albus . . .”
“I am aware that Professor Dustern was unpleasant to you the other day. Gertrude informed me. But I felt it was only right to invite her, as well, in the event that she would like to join her former colleagues for the memorial. I do not believe that she and Robert were close, but she taught him when he was a student. She may be affected.”
“Albus, how are you, though . . . this letter. It is,” Minerva swallowed and took a breath, then continued, “it is very sad. Whatever he may say, I doubt that you are at peace with what he did.”
Albus shook his head. “I do not agree with his reasoning, his conclusions, or his final action, but I do appreciate his sentiment and I understand why he did as he did. I still feel that there must have been something more I could have done . . . but the time for that is past,” he said with a sigh.
“You may talk to me about it, you know.” Minerva said.
A faint smile crossed Albus’s lips. “I know, my dear. You are a treasure – ” He stopped himself. “I do appreciate it. But I will be fine. Truly.”
“Albus, you have said that to me before, on other occasions,” Minerva objected. “I do not know if you really are fine.”
“I said I will be fine, my dear. And I will be. I simply . . . I simply do not wish to discuss it right now.”
Minerva nodded, but her own eyes filled with tears. It was a combination of Robert’s letter, Albus’s clear rejection of her offer of comfort, despite all he had shared with her the night before, her own sadness, and sheer exhaustion. She rejected Albus’s offer of a handkerchief, and fumbled for her own, then wiped her eyes.
“I will be fine, too, Albus,” she said evenly, standing. “I know you have a lot to do. I will leave you to it.”
“Wait, Minerva – ” Albus stood and reached for her. “You needn’t go. I . . . I may not want to talk, but I do welcome your company. And if you would like to talk . . . .”
Minerva shook her head, but made no move to leave. How could he tell her all he had of his past, weeping in remembered pain and sorrow, and then the next day, reject her offer of comfort for present grief? He had seemed to share so much of himself, and now, he would share nothing.
“Ah, Minerva, do not leave like this . . . so upset . . .”
Minerva turned away from him, and his hand caught her arm as thunder reverberated from the hills and lightning struck the loch with a sharp crack.
“I will be fine, just as you will be. I have things to do, myself,” she said in a low voice.
“Minerva.” Albus stepped toward her. “Minerva. Please.”
Hearing those words, she could not leave, and she turned back to him. Seeing his bright blue eyes saddened so, she could not go, and she stepped in and put her arms around him, leaning into him, relishing the steady thrumming of his magic and the solid warmth of his body as his arms went around her.
“I just . . . you know I love you . . . I cannot leave you like this,” Minerva whispered.
Albus nodded mutely, seeming to hold his breath; Minerva waited, then let go and stepped back.
“But perhaps I ought to leave,” she said. “We are both tired, and we have an unhappy task tomorrow – if you still want me with you in the morning.”
“Of course I do; there is no question about that. I will call for you at eight o’clock.”
Minerva nodded and went towards the door. Albus opened it with a wave of his hand.
As Minerva stepped through the door, Albus said, very softly, “I am sorry I am not what you wish me to be, Minerva. . . . I hope you sleep well.”
Minerva paused, her back to him, and nodded. “Good night, Albus.”
When she was gone, the door shut behind her, Albus slumped back into his chair and held his head in his hands. He could not do this anymore. It was like walking on the edge of a cliff in the dark. Soon, one day, he would slip and not be able to recover. Albus wished Minerva had stayed, though he thought it wisest for them both that she hadn’t. He had asked her to stay, and he should not have, and despite wishing that he had asked her again and had not let her leave, he believed it was for the best that she had gone when she did. How he had wanted to ask her again to remain with him, how he wanted to hear her voice and to seek comfort in her embrace, but when he thought of holding her, he thought of never letting her go, and when she relaxed in his arms and said that she loved him, it broke his heart, but better his heart be broken than her trust in him. She still loved him despite what she had learned the night before, but Albus did not know if that affection, or any affection, for him would survive if she knew of his desire for her. She would be disgusted, and become more disgusted, he was sure, as she remembered his youthful indulgences and disgrace. He loved her and did not want her to ever think that he had the same impulses toward her that he had acted upon as a young man, impulses which could hardly even have been called feelings, they had been so devoid of emotion or even of desire. No, better for her to think that he did not fully appreciate her than for her to believe that he harboured such desire, such passion, for her.
Albus sat there long, listening to the rain beat sharp against the Tower windows and the thunder reverberating in the hills, and he closed his mind to all but the storm outside.