Holiday from Hogwarts
CIX: Holiday from Hogwarts
Minerva had only been home a day, and she was already growing restless, her thoughts turning continually to Hogwarts and Albus. She had seen Albus at dinner on Tuesday evening, but had scarcely been able to speak to him, as there were still a number of other staff members at the castle after Professor Pretnick’s small memorial, and it seemed that every one of them wanted the Headmaster’s ear. She couldn’t blame them, or him, but it did frustrate her. At least she had been able to confirm to Albus that she would be gone from the castle for the next several days, visiting her parents and spending some time with her niece. She had restrained herself from going to see Albus that evening, not wanting to appear too needy – after all, they had just spent the afternoon walking through the garden, and she was going to be returning to the school within the week.
Now, though, Minerva wished that she had taken proper leave from Albus, if not that evening, then the next morning before she Apparated to the McGonagall house. Perhaps it would be easier to get him out of her mind if she had seen him again before she left. At least this afternoon she would be going to Melina’s and staying for supper, then Malcolm was coming for dinner the next day. She would simply have to keep busy.
Shortly after she had arrived home the previous morning, Minerva had received a letter from Quin in answer to hers of the day before. He was very sympathetic, but tried to encourage her to view things in a positive light and not to focus only on her doubts. He said that he was returning to London that afternoon, bringing both his children with him, and they would spend the next several days together until the children went to spend a week with their Grandmother Ella. Quin would still be having dinner with them every evening he was in town, though, since Ella’s flat was in London. But Ella had complained that she had not seen enough of the children in the last few months, and since he had some business travel scheduled, he thought this would provide the children an opportunity to spend time with their other grandmother before Alroy had to leave for Hogwarts. Quin said he would be busy over the next few weeks, between family and business, but that if she wanted to come to London for lunch or dinner, or meet him in Hogsmeade or elsewhere, he would find the time for her.
Minerva had written back and thanked Quin, but said that at the moment, she thought she would just do “family things,” as well, hoping that time with her family would provide her some perspective on her situation at Hogwarts. Now, though, sitting the library, a book unopened on her lap, Minerva doubted that her time away from Hogwarts would do anything except make her even more desperate for the slightest gesture of affection from Albus. What would she do during term time, when they were both so much more constrained by their schedules and the presence of so many more people in the castle? Perhaps being that busy would actually be a help . . .
Minerva set the book aside and decided to Apparate to Edinburgh early. Melina would still be at work for the morning, but Murdoch would be in the apothecary. She could do a little shopping in McTavish Street and keep her brother company in the apothecary if it was slow, perhaps give him a hand with something. Minerva told her parents that she was leaving and would be back sometime that evening.
She Apparated to the park and walked over to the apothecary from there, smiling as she remembered how she and Melina had happened into Albus that warm summer’s day the week before she was to return to Hogwarts to assist with the wards. She had finally managed to gain some control over herself and It, and she had enjoyed having Albus join them as she treated Melina to a bowl of ice cream. Of course, Albus had ended up treating them, but they had a nice time. It was one of the first times when she was still in school that she felt as though she had related to Albus as one adult to another, and not just as a student to her teacher. Of course, he had bristled when she had suggested that he might be suffering from the heat . . . that much hadn’t changed, Minerva thought with a sigh. Sometimes, Albus seemed to welcome her care and concern, and other times, he behaved as though her concern was completely unwanted.
Minerva stepped into the cool apothecary, and a bell rang in the back of the shop. Looking around, she didn’t see her brother, but his chime must have alerted him that she had entered. She was just examining a barrel of bulk desiccated Flobberworm larvae and wondering what on earth they were used for when Murdoch stuck his head out from the back room.
“Oh, Minerva! Hello! I wasn’t expecting you. I think Melina said she was meeting you here at one and we would have lunch together.”
“I was just bored at home. I thought I would pop around early, give you a hand, if you needed it, or go shopping if you didn’t,” Minerva answered.
“If you would like, you can stay . . . take care of customers for me, unless they have special requests. I’m brewing at the moment and I let Lawrence have the day to visit his sister, since she just had her first baby,” Murdoch said, referring to his single apprentice. “And, um, Poppy’s here – she’s keeping an eye on the potion now, but I should really go check it. It will need to have the Doxie wings added soon.”
Minerva shuddered at that thought. No wonder she hadn’t done particularly well in Potions. The ingredients tended to be disgusting. And Doxie wings weren’t the worst of them.
“Poppy’s here?” Minerva asked with a smiled. “Well, I’ll let you get back to her . . . and your potion.” She just restrained herself from giving Murdoch a cheeky wink, as he no doubt would give her under similar circumstances. But if Murdoch and Poppy were hitting it off, even if just as friends, she didn’t want to do anything that would make him feel uncomfortable about it.
Murdoch grinned. “Right-o. I’ll send her out to keep you company in a few minutes, then. Just give me a shout if you need any help with a customer.”
“No need to send Poppy out, not if she’s helping you with the potion.” This time, Minerva couldn’t keep a rather big grin from crossing her face, but Murdoch just grinned broadly, himself, and disappeared back into the rear of the shop.
Minerva was able to assist three customers, though she had some difficulty at first determining the price for the Runespoor eggshells. It didn’t help that the customer kept up a running complaint about the fact that Murdoch had no Runespoor eggs and he might just have to take his custom elsewhere.
As Minerva handed the customer his package of shells, she smiled pleasantly and said, “If you are able to find a reputable apothecary anywhere in Britain or Europe that sells Runespoor eggs, I would be most surprised. And any disreputable apothecary that would sell such a thing would probably be providing you with fakes and cheating you.”
The customer left, still grumbling about the unreasonable restrictions on necessary potions ingredients.
Finally, Minerva had to fetch Murdoch to help a customer who had questions that she felt best answered by an expert. She walked into the backroom to find her brother and Poppy together, Murdoch sitting on one of his high stools, his back to the potion, and Poppy standing in front of him between his legs, Murdoch’s arms loosely around her waist, her hands on his shoulders, and engaged in a very sensuous kiss. Minerva reddened, but knocked loudly on the door frame. Poppy jumped back and Murdoch almost fell off the stool.
“Oh, Merlin, Minerva! You startled me . . . us,” Murdoch said.
“If the potion doesn’t require your immediate attention,” Minerva said, still blushing, “there is a customer who is asking about a few of the potions, and I don’t know enough about them to answer her.”
“Yes, of course,” Murdoch said. He turned back to Poppy and smiled softly. “I’ll just be a few minutes. Keep an eye on the potion for me?”
Poppy nodded, and a pleased expression crossed her face when Murdoch kissed her cheek gently before leaving.
“Well, I would say that you two are becoming well-acquainted,” Minerva said to her friend, not suppressing her smile.
Poppy blushed and nodded. “I think he likes me, Min.”
“I would say so – I dare say it’s been many a year since he’s canoodled with a witch in the backroom. Have you spent much time together over the last week?”
“We’ve seen each other several times . . . I think that since you brought me for dinner last Monday, the only day we haven’t seen each other at least for an hour or two was Tuesday, when I was at Hogwarts,” the mediwitch answered.
“And why didn’t you say anything to me then?” Minerva asked. “I would have enjoyed hearing some good news on that rather sombre day.”
“I thought about it, but you were busy, then you disappeared. I didn’t stay for dinner because I told Violet I would watch her children while she and Dylan were out that evening. It wasn’t something I could mention in the twenty second conversation that we had before the memorial. I liked your speech, by the way.”
“Thank you . . . yes, it was a busy day,” Minerva agreed. “I am happy to see you and Murdoch getting along so well, so to speak.”
Poppy blushed again. “I suppose it’s too early to say how serious it is, but I really do like him very much, I enjoy spending time with him – and not just doing what we were doing just now, either. He is simply nice, and very funny, too.”
A little bell chimed and Poppy picked up a stirring rod and began to stir the potion in a figure-eight pattern. As she stirred, she said, “I don’t want to push things along too fast, though. He’s been essentially a bachelor for a long time, and living with your daughter and a house-elf is not the same as having a relationship with a witch. I don’t want to spook him.”
“He didn’t look spooked to me,” Minerva observed.
Poppy shrugged. “I also don’t want to get cold feet. I’m enjoying this too much and I like him too well – I don’t want to rush, then get nervous about where it’s going and then do or say something stupid.”
Minerva nodded. “I can understand that . . . does this mean that the quality time you’ve been spending together has been, um, limited in scope, so to speak?”
“I can’t believe you just asked me that, Minerva! This is your brother!” Poppy exclaimed.
“I know that, but I’m just . . . curious. Every day for almost two weeks – all right, with the exception of Tuesday – that’s some very intensive time. And you won’t be able to spend that kind of time with him when school starts in less than a month,” Minerva said.
Poppy visibly slumped. “I know it. I suppose that is why every time he suggests we get together, I agree, and when he doesn’t suggest it, I do. I’m afraid he’ll grow tired of spending time with me . . . but that’s all the more reason not to move too fast. And that should answer your question. What you just saw, that was almost the extent of, um, our activities.”
“It certainly looked promising. I’m surprised either of you can keep from moving beyond that if all of your kisses are like the one I witnessed. It was like your lips were having sex,” Minerva said bluntly.
Poppy giggled. “It felt like that, too. But that’s one reason why we scarcely even touch each other when we’re in the flat, I think. We haven’t discussed it, but . . . I think we are both thinking that it’s best to keep that sort of temptation at bay. At least for the time being.”
“As long as you are both happy. That’s what matters, that you are happy and enjoying yourselves. Murdoch certainly looked very happy,” Minerva said.
“Murdoch is very happy,” a deep voice behind her said. “And I do have a bone to pick with you, Minerva, for not introducing me sooner to this most . . . delightful witch.” Murdoch crossed the room and put his hands at Poppy’s waist, looking over her shoulder at the potion. “Just another few stirs, Poppy, and it will be good for the next hour.”
After Poppy removed the stirring rod and placed it on the slab next to the potion, Murdoch kissed the back of her neck.
“Well, I’ll be happy to watch the shop for a while longer,” Minerva offered.
“No, that’s all right. Why don’t you and Poppy go shopping, talk about whatever it is that witches talk about when the brother of one of them is smitten with the other,” Murdoch said, not taking his eyes off Poppy, and smiling when Poppy blushed and smiled.
After they were in the street, Minerva said, “I don’t think you have to worry about Murdoch losing interest in you. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Murdoch use the word ‘delightful’ to describe any witch, ever, and the fact that he said, in front of me, that he was smitten . . . I think that means he really is.”
“Really? I thought he was just teasing,” Poppy said.
“He was teasing, but in such a way that I could tell that he also meant it quite seriously. I think that, whether you want him or not, you now have a Potions master, Poppy. Handle with care!” Minerva said with a laugh. “You never know what might happen with the introduction of volatile ingredients, after all!”
Poppy laughed, and the two went through a few shops, not buying anything, just looking and joking, Poppy’s ebullient mood contagious. As they were leaving Enrobed, Robes for Every Day and Every Witch, Minerva looked over at her smiling friend and, for just a moment, she felt a stab of envy. That Poppy could so easily and openly express interest in Murdoch and then take steps to get to know him and explore whether he might reciprocate created a sense of bereavement in Minerva’s heart.
Poppy looked over at Minerva at just that moment. “Minerva, are you all right?” she asked, a look of concern on her face.
Minerva smiled. “I’m fine. Where to next?” she asked briskly. “Melina won’t be here until one, so we have another half hour. We could just go back to the apothecary and you could help Murdoch with his potion.”
“That one should be done already. He said he wasn’t going to do much brewing today, with Lawrence away. He thought he might even close up shop early. He said that there is a film he wants to see, and we thought that before the show, we’d eat at an Indian restaurant he likes. I’ve only been to the cinema twice, and the last time was quite a while ago, so I thought it would be fun.”
“Yes, it seems that Brennan is Mugglizing the McGonagall clan. Hopefully, it will stop with the Edinburgh McGonagalls. My life is complicated enough without having Dad thinking he needs to buy an autocar or an aeroplane or some such.”
Poppy laughed. “Did you know that Melina is learning to drive?”
“What?” Minerva asked, puzzled.
“An automobile, of course. Brennan is finding the task of teaching a witch the finer points of Muggle traffic laws quite a challenge, I think. We all had dinner together on Sunday, and his stories were quite amusing. He claims to be getting grey hairs from it,” Poppy said with a grin.
“It can’t be any worse than a Side-Along from her,” Minerva said. “Not only is she the loudest Apparater I’ve ever met, I think she’d make anyone sick to their stomach, not just me. Brennan’s probably just trying to avoid having to Side-Along with her any longer!”
The two returned to the apothecary, where Murdoch greeted them with more enthusiasm than necessary since they had seen him only two hours before. When Melina arrived, Murdoch closed up shop and the four of them Apparated to Melina’s new flat, Murdoch bringing Poppy in a Side-Along. Brennan arrived for a lunch of soup, bread, and cheese, but had to leave immediately after to return to his shop, and Murdoch Apparated Poppy someplace, telling her he was going to surprise her. Minerva spent the rest of the day with Melina, looking at the house and how she was furnishing it from the odds and ends from the McGonagall attic. It looked quite good, although it still could do with more furniture, and Melina and Brennan were planning another excursion to the attic on the weekend. Melina pointed out the second-floor room that was going to be especially for Minerva when she came to visit.
“Of course, when you’re not here, we may have other guests stay in it if the other bedrooms are full, but we thought you might like to have somewhere to go that wasn’t the McGonagall place,” Melina explained enthusiastically. “You are always welcome here, Auntie Min. If we have other guests, we’ll just find other accommodation for them. Otherwise, well, it’s fairly private, too, since there’s a bathroom up here, and our room is down on the first floor, and if we have a baby, the nursery will be there, as well. And, of course, you’re welcome to bring a friend. If you need a separate bedroom for him – or her, if it’s somebody like Poppy, of course – there’s the small one across the hall. But I thought I’d do the room in Gryffindor colours and try to make it comfortable for you. Speaking of Gryffindor colours, how is your new set of rooms at Hogwarts?”
Minerva protested their setting aside a bedroom especially for her use, but Melina insisted, reminding her that it was rather impractical for her to have a flat when she spent most of the year at Hogwarts. And sometimes one wanted a place to go, Melina declared, other than the family home, as nice as that was.
“Besides,” Melina added, “it would be difficult for you to impose on us, since you are at the school most of the time, required to be there, even. And that is all the more reason for you to have somewhere to go when you can get away from the school. Any time, Minerva, really. Whatever is going on here, you’re family, and without you, it would have been so much harder for us. If it hadn’t been for you and Professor Dumbledore, I don’t know whether we would even still be together now, let alone be getting married in two weeks!”
Minerva stayed for dinner, watching as Melina used the Muggle cooker.
“It took some getting used to, but now I’m quite adept, if I do say so myself. I still use a lot of magic, of course, but we had to have Muggle appliances not just for Brennan’s sake, but because when our friends come by, many of them are Muggles, and I can’t have them wondering about our kitchen, or anything else they may see.”
Brennan arrived for dinner, and Minerva learned that, although he had moved over many of his things, he was still living in his flat over the shop. She was somewhat surprised by this, and it must have shown in her face.
Brennan grinned and said, “Well, we do have to save something for after the wedding, and spending an entire night together in our own place seemed manageable.”
“It is sometimes difficult, though,” Melina added. “It’s hard for me to let him leave some nights, which is why I think we’ll be doing supper at his place from now until we’re married. I can just Apparate away before bedtime . . . it will be so nice not to do that any longer.”
Finally, Minerva said that it was time for her to be going, and she offered to Side-Along Brennan back to his address. She had never been in his flat, but she’d been to the shop. Minerva said it would be no problem to Apparate him to the alley behind it.
“Brennan doesn’t like to Side-Along, Min,” Melina explained as Brennan hesitated. “He’d rather take Muggle transportation, even if it costs him money.”
“Has he ever Apparated with anyone but you? No? Brennan, I think that you might have an easier time of it if I give you a Side-Along – no offense, Melina, but yours are truly dreadful. I think even Dad would have a hard time, and nothing ever seems to bother his stomach.” She turned back to Brennan. “You may still experience a moment or two of vertigo, but it shouldn’t be too bad. And if you are sick, we’ll know not to do it again.”
Brennan reluctantly agreed, and Minerva discreetly stepped into the foyer while he said good-bye to his fiancée. It took them ten minutes, but finally, Brennan emerged.
Minerva said, “You aren’t a wizard, but I still think you might be able to make it easier – at least on yourself – by visualising the alley. So close your eyes, visualise the alley, and breathe regularly, even if you feel nervous. And don’t open your eyes immediately upon arrival – just keep visualising the alley for a moment or two, then open them. It might help with your vertigo a little.”
She had Brennan stand beside her and put one arm around her shoulder while she put one of hers around his waist. After he confirmed that he was visualising the alley, Minerva waved good-bye to her niece and Disapparated. When they arrived in the alley, Minerva waited to make sure that Brennan wasn’t going to faint or fall over, then she let go.
“How was that?” she asked.
Brennan opened his eyes and blinked a few times before letting go of Minerva.
“All right, actually. I was a little dizzy at first, but there was no nausea at all, and I didn’t feel like the world was spinning around me.” He seemed astonished at that.
“I am going to see if I can have someone help Melina with her Apparating. She’ll likely take some offense, but if I tell her it’s so that she can Apparate with you more easily, I think she’ll do it. She’s never Splinched that I know of, but she is dreadfully noisy, and her Side-Alongs, well, you know about them.”
“Spinched?” Brennan asked, puzzled, as they began to walk to the end of the alley.
“Splinched. It can happen if one doesn’t have enough determination, or if they don’t have their destinations firmly fixed in their mind. You leave a bit of your body behind, so part of you arrives and part of you doesn’t. Come to think of it, until Melina has the extra . . . tutoring, don’t Apparate with her unless it’s an emergency. Splinching is almost never fatal, although if it isn’t repaired immediately, it can cause permanent injury. And I have a very strong feeling that Splinching would not be as easy on a Muggle, and unless you only lost a fingernail or some hair or something of that sort, it could be quite serious. Yes, I will definitely talk to Melina about this. I’ll write her a letter in the morning, in fact.”
Brennan had grown quite pale as Minerva discussed Splinching, and he assured Minerva that he would not be Apparating Side-Along with Melina again until she had received some remedial training.
The next day, Minerva spent the morning with her father working on his latest acquisition, an ancient Pali wizarding text. She wasn’t very much help, since she knew no Pali, but she enjoyed helping her father find the most apposite English translations, although some of them were such circumlocutions, Merwyn said, that the original meaning seemed impossible to capture. Finally, at about eleven o’clock, he suggested a cup of tea and a change of focus.
“After we have our tea, why don’t we take a look at the translation you said you were having difficulty with, Min?”
Minerva had brought home her copy of The Book of Taliesin, and she was working on a poem that was particularly difficult to translate. She had worked on it shortly after receiving the manuscript, then put it aside and worked instead on some of the less difficult ones. She was only just now returning to it. The poem was one of the ones that appeared in neither the oldest Muggle copy nor in the oldest publicly-known wizarding copy, and Minerva was finding it very frustrating and remembered now why she had abandoned it more than a decade before.
After they had their tea in the kitchen, Minerva fetched the manuscript and they returned to her father’s study. Merwyn examined the Welsh original, then looked at Minerva’s most recent attempt at translation.
“Hmm, yes, I see where your problem lies. The inflections are unusual, and you have also been trying to translate each word rather than looking at the phrasing – which is also somewhat unusual. This is certainly the oldest text of the ones I’ve looked at in this manuscript, and the least changed by the scribe who copied it. See, here’s your translation:
“Born to light in darkness I was
“and falling high and brightly
“I rose to sun-soaked plains and clouds
“a life ungiven and last I releasing life
“grasp to come out again and find once more
“what unlearned I had long forgotten
“and so will I climb again
“up the ravine and down the cairn
“to birth myself anew
“and gain through sorrow
“all undeserving I swallowed whole once
“and in my quest unaccompanied
“will I be by silence or roar or crash of sea
“not that will one await in quiet din
“and lead final steps of mine
“to ultimate fire and summit power.”
Merwyn read out her translation, then he went through the Welsh, phrase by phrase, with Minerva, and when they were finished, they had a new translation:
In darkness, I was born to light,
and falling, high and brightly,
I rose to sun-soaked plains and clouds,
to a life ungiven.
From life, I release my final grasp
to reemerge and find again
what, unlearned, I had long forgotten.
And so will I climb again
up the ravine and down the cairn
to birth myself anew
and earn through sorrow
what, all undeserving, once I swallowed whole.
In my quest, unaccompanied
will I be, not by silence, nor by roar or crash of sea;
instead, one will await me in the din of quiet
and lead me in my final steps
to ultimate flame and power’s summit.
“Well, that makes a little more sense, I suppose,” Minerva said. “At least superficially. But I can’t say I really understand it.”
“It is one of the mystical, prophetic poems, so the language is meant metaphorically,” Merwyn explained. “No doubt it meant something to the poet and, perhaps, to the small audience to which it was addressed. The ‘I’ could be the poet himself or it could represent someone or something else entirely. Perhaps once you have translated a few of the other texts unique to this manuscript, its meaning will become clearer. They may be related, and that may be why they appear in this manuscript and none of the other extant copies.”
They perused some of the other translations that Minerva had made over the years, her father offering suggestions for improvements, until Egeria arrived home at one o’clock, and they had lunch. Malcolm had owled his mother the day before and said that he would be arriving some time that afternoon, but had not been any more specific than that. Minerva and her father were in the library playing chess when Malcolm walked in, wearing a kilt, plaid, and sporran rather than either robes or trousers.
“It was a warm day today,” Malcolm explained, “and I had some work for a few wizarding folk and spent some time around Muggles, as well.”
He sat and watched the other two play chess for a while, then got up and wandered off, saying something about finding his mother and asking about gathering some herbs from her garden.
“Wonder what he wants with Mother’s herbs,” Minerva said idly as she moved her rook.
“Probably for some pest-control potion or other,” Merwyn replied. “Or maybe just for seasoning his dinner tomorrow!”
After she had beaten her father for the first time in months, Minerva decided to quit on a high note, and went off to find her brother. She found him in the herb garden with their mother, who was explaining the best method for harvesting the small leaves of a particular plant and admonishing him, probably unnecessarily, to take only a few from each plant.
“I don’t want to come out here tomorrow morning and discover that one of them has been completely denuded, Malcolm!” Egeria said.
Malcolm grinned. “I think I can manage that, Mother. Hello, little sister! Done defeating Dad?”
“Yes, so I thought I would rest on my laurels for a little while, at least, and come find you,” Minerva answered.
“I’m going to go see Fwisky about dinner. You two have fun!” Egeria said, dusting off her green robes.
“So, doing a little cooking, Malcolm? Or brewing?” Minerva asked, curious.
“Wouldn’t cook with these unless I wanted to make myself rather ill,” Malcolm responded. “I’ll gather them before I leave tonight. How is Hogwarts biding?”
“Much the same as usual. We had a memorial service on Tuesday for Professor Pretnick,” Minerva answered.
“Bitten by a werewolf . . . can’t say I’d make the decision he did, but I can understand it,” Malcolm said.
“Please don’t, if you ever are bitten, Malcolm. You may irritate me, but I would miss you!”
“No worries there, little sister. I don’t plan on being bitten, and if ever I am . . . there are remote places one can go, chase a few beasts and encounter no human beings. Suicide is certainly an extreme solution for a problem that only crops up a few days a month,” Malcolm said.
“Have you ever dealt with werewolves?” Minerva asked.
“Mmm. Singly. Werewolves, unlike true wolves, as you most likely are aware, are not pack animals, but solitary hunters, seeking their favourite prey, and, unlike vampires, who often develop an attachment to those they have turned, during the full moon werewolves do not seek out those they have infected, and when they are human, they are unaware of anyone whom they may have bitten. They could pass each other on the street, and although they would likely recognise a fellow sufferer of the curse, they would have no way of knowing whether one of them infected the other,” Malcolm said. “And because of the stigma attached to being a werewolf, even when they recognise each other in their human forms as being fellow sufferers, they do not usually speak of it. In fact, they tend to avoid one another.” He shrugged. “Just as well, I suppose. Folk might become paranoid if werewolves started gathering during their human time. Think they were up to something, despite the fact that the werewolves don’t remember their true selves when they transform, nor when they awaken after the last night of the full moon. There should be better formal support systems for them, but . . . no one in the Ministry would listen to me, in any case.”
“Have you ever had to kill one?” Minerva asked hesitantly.
“Once, about twenty-five years ago,” Malcolm answered softly, quite serious for once. “I have developed a rather nice variation on the Stunner since then, however, which is effective against werewolves, and I find that is quite sufficient. Try an ordinary Stunner, and they don’t even blink.”
“A pity that Robert didn’t know that one . . .” Minerva said softly.
Malcolm nodded soberly.
The two strolled through the garden in a thoughtful silence for a while, ending up at the gazebo near the ornamental flower garden. They sat, Malcolm stretching his long legs out in front of him and folding his hands behind his head.
“Do be mindful of how you sit when wearing that thing, Malcolm,” Minerva said jokingly. “Don’t want to know too much about my brother, after all!”
Malcolm quirked a sideways grin. “The sporran helps keep the kilt in place, covering everything it should. Now, if I were to put stone or throw a weight, you might like to cover your maidenly eyes! My spinning has been known to have the ladies fainting, and even a few gentlemen. From shock or desire, I haven’t yet determined!”
Minerva laughed, then remembered Quin’s curiosity about Malcolm’s visit. Malcolm’s mention of both ladies and gentlemen raised her own curiosity.
“Quin tells me you two had lunch a while back.”
“Mmm-hmm. Fascinating chap, your friend,” Malcolm answered laconically.
“I think he was a little surprised you found him.”
Malcolm grinned. “Tracking is part of what I do, after all. I’ve even, on occasion when I needed the brass, tracked a few errant husbands in my time. And Quin wasn’t making any effort to hide, so it was quite easy.”
“What brought you to even look for him like that? Why not owl him and set something up? It could be quite unnerving for someone to have you track them down unexpectedly like that,” Minerva pointed out.
“Didn’t seem unnerved. But he seems quite unflappable, though I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side, I’m thinking. He’s fair powerful, though he wastes it, in my opinion. But the chap’s a father, and that does tie him down, I suppose.”
“Yes, he’s a father . . . he was very devoted to his late wife, Aileen. Very devoted,” Minerva emphasised, recalling Quin’s concerns, as unlikely as they were. “The love of his life, from what he says.”
“Yes, he did tend to wax on about her.” Malcolm shrugged. “Don’t fancy being that tied down, myself, but . . . life can bring surprises, I suppose, even to the most wary wizard.”
“So why did you track him down?”
“Wanted to get to know him a bit better, as I mentioned to you last time I saw you. He’s interesting. Not all moulded by Hogwarts and the Ministry. Refreshing . . . besides, a brother might want to know what a wizard’s intentions were toward his sister.”
“His intentions toward . . . me? Oh, really, Malcolm! I don’t think you would have to worry about that!”
“I’m not. Just saying I might, that’s all. But he doesn’t seem interested in anyone in particular, though he did speak rather glowingly of you. If you were interested in him, you could probably just – ” Malcolm made a flicking motion with his little finger “ – tip him right over. If you wanted.”
“Well, neither of us want that; we are quite happy as friends. I do hope you will approach him in a more conventional manner next time, though, Malcolm. Or at least, don’t sneak up on him.”
“No sneaking involved, little sister. Walked right up to him on a public street, face-to-face. But I’ll try not to startle him,” Malcolm said with a laugh.
“Still, I think if you hadn’t been my brother, Quin might have been less likely to go to lunch with you. He has had some bad experiences with the Ministry, and it crossed his mind that your distaste for them might have been an act and you were really with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or the Department of Mysteries, or something. So you see why he was a little troubled.”
Malcolm sat up and looked at Minerva. “I can understand that quite well. I will apologise to him. That didn’t occur to me,” he said seriously.
“I reassured him – I presume, truthfully – that you would have nothing to do with the Ministry, let alone work for them to trap honest businessmen,” Minerva said. “So you needn’t apologise unless you feel you must.”
“I do. No wonder he seemed not to want to discuss what it was like to work with Muggles . . . I will owl him and ask him to have coffee, or, better yet, to come to my flat for lunch. My croque monsieur is quite tasty, I have recently been informed,” Malcolm said with a grin.
“Um, hmm, I don’t know. Coffee might be sufficient. In Diagon Alley,” Minerva suggested. “He likes Fortescue’s coffee.”
“I think lunch. I could show him some of my finds – he might even know of some good buyers for a few of the rarer objects. Murdoch is already snapping up the last of my Erumpent horn – at a very good price, I might add. The family discount!” Malcolm said.
“Erumpent horn? Isn’t that – ”
“Restricted? Yes, but a friend of mine knows someone in the French Ministry who is old friends with the harridan currently in charge of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and he was able to get me a permit to import it. Should be enough to keep me going for a few years. Not that I have stopped working. You never know when there might be a dry spell. Besides, I bore easily.”
“I have noticed,” Minerva said drily. She thought a moment. “Malcolm, may I be frank with you?”
“Always, little sister,” Malcolm replied, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.
“Quin was worried . . . once he had dismissed the notion that you were from the Ministry, he wondered whether, well, whether you were interested in him.”
“Of course, I am; he’s not the run-of-the-mill – oh, you mean interested in him!” Malcolm chuckled. “Well, Quin is pretty. Lovely blue eyes and long legs, not to mention his dimples. And yet rugged at the same time. A delicious but uncommon combination in a wizard. Most are one or the other. And he is quite the charmer. Yes, quite an attractive package. But, no, dearest sister-of-mine, pretty as he is, I am not interested him romantically or sexually. So you can both iron out your twisted knickers and relax,” he teased.
“Well, all right, don’t be that way,” Minerva said crossly. “I did try to reassure him on that point, as well, but I wasn’t certain. I mean, you were eying him at the party, and you expressed interest in him, and some of the things that you said, right there in public – you can’t blame me for not being sure, myself.”
“You weren’t certain yourself, but you reassured him that I wasn’t after his, um, masculinity?” Malcolm said, obviously amused. “Is that the act of a true friend?”
“Well, I also thought that even if you were interested in him, you have enough . . . integrity and, um, concern for others’ feelings that you wouldn’t pursue him if he didn’t return your interest,” Minerva said, put out, and increasingly uncomfortable with the topic. “Look, I’m going up to the house now. Come if you want. I don’t care. You may not be an underhanded Slytherin, but sometimes you are worse.” Minerva stood.
“Hold up, there, little sister!” Malcolm interrupted, his mood suddenly shifted. “Underhanded Slytherin? Aside from the implications you are making about my own character, I have to inform you that I have known many an underhanded witch or wizard who was sorted into one of the other three Houses. Just because Slytherins may be a bit more successfully ‘underhanded,’ as you put it, doesn’t make that either their sole province or theirs alone. I have seen good Slytherins wounded and dead, doing the right thing, and believe me, their bodies go cold and their blood flows red just as much as any Gryffindor’s does. So you go on up to the house, Minerva. I expected better from the new Head of Gryffindor, but perhaps that position just ingrains all the old House prejudices.” Malcolm got up and left, striding south, away from the house.
Minerva was speechless. She had rarely seen Malcolm get hot under the collar, and she hadn’t meant anything by her remark, it was just a manner of speaking . . . she had been irritated with him and his teasing. She sat back down. Of course he was right. And perhaps she should avoid that manner of speaking in the future, particularly as Head of Gryffindor. House rivalry was one thing, but she certainly should not be encouraging prejudices. They seemed to spread too easily, as it was, without people in authority appearing to approve of them. Minerva got up and followed her brother down out of the garden. She owed him some thanks. But she wasn’t going to apologise. No, that would be going too far, after his annoying teasing. Malcolm did take being an older brother to new heights – or lows. Murdoch, for all he was a Ravenclaw, restrained his teasing more than Malcolm did. And Morgan, well, he was sweet, but dull. No teasing from that quarter. Malcolm certainly made up for it, though.
By the time the two returned to the house for dinner, Malcolm was relaxed and teasing again, and Minerva was putting up with him in better humour than she had. Dinner was lively, though Minerva found herself increasingly distracted by thoughts of Hogwarts. When her father suggested another chess game after dinner, she declined, reading instead, and looking up occasionally to observe her father and Malcolm go at it. They played fast, at practically breakneck speed, and Malcolm had a tendency to bounce in his seat as he considered his moves, which drove Minerva batty, but Merwyn seemed able to ignore that and everything else. They were playing with the wizarding chess set, and Malcolm’s pieces, regardless whether he played white or black, seemed unnaturally bloodthirsty. The pawns even pounded their chests and clashed their armour with each piece they took out, and his queen licked her dagger when she took a knight. Minerva found it most disturbing, and she finally excused herself and retired for the evening. Egeria took her knitting and left with her.
“Malcolm certainly thinks he can throw your father with his tactics, but I will not be surprised if Malcolm still loses more games than he wins. Your father is not easily perturbed,” Egeria said with a chuckle. “Of course, I have found some methods of distracting him from his game over the years – none of which I could use with you children in the house!”
“Mother!” Minerva blushed. “I am glad you spare us that!”
“Mmm, but it is a technique you may wish to try with a wizard one day . . . I’ll leave to your imagination precisely what the technique might involve,” Egeria said with a wink.
Minerva laughed. “I am sure I will be able to use my imagination should the occasion ever arise, Mother – but it is an interesting idea, and one I hadn’t considered before.”
“Mmm, best not to use it too frequently, of course. And you have to start off innocently, as though you have no intention whatsoever to distract him, so that by the time he twigs to it, he is so distracted, he doesn’t care. Of course, by that point, you both may completely forget the game.”
“I’ll remember that bit of advice.” Minerva smiled. “Good night, Mother!”
“Good night, sweetness. See you in the morning,” Egeria said, giving her daughter a quick, one-armed hug.