McGonagalls and Quidditch

These characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I appreciate the opportunity to borrow them from time to time. My deepest thanks to the very generous and gracious MMADfan and Squibstress for their inspiration, advice, patience and time. In this semi-AU, Professor Merrythought is, at this time, the Charms instructor.

Chapter 5: McGonagalls and Quidditch

Marcus McGonagall stepped out of the Three Broomsticks holding the hand of a young girl and led her carefully through a busy street and toward the steep hill leading up to Hogwarts castle. He glanced down at his strawberry-blond companion and grinned.

"Are yeh excited?" He asked. She responded with a bright-eyed, enthusiastic nod of her head and shivered. The wind was brisk, and the temperature was only a degree or two above freezing. The streets were just starting to form ice patches as the ground was quite wet from a recent rain. Marcus maneuvered around a chatting couple who were also making their way up the hill and pulled his wand out of a pocket inside his overcoat. Muttering an incantation, he cast a warming charm on the girl's heavy, brick-red, woolen coat, which looked to be a size too big for her.

"Thank you," she commented and fished a yellow knit cap out of a pocket, pulling it down over her pink ears.

"We'd best get a move on, lass ... the hot seats will soon be taken!" he said, quickly taking up her hand again and, without properly looking, stepped back into the lane of foot traffic and ran smack into a tall man wearing a dark purple overcoat. Marcus blinked once in recognition and smiled.

"Professor Dumbledore! Fancy meetin' yeh here! How has the world been treatin' yeh?" he asked, thrusting his free hand out and surprising Albus. While studying the young man's face, Albus searched his memory. The fellow looked terribly familiar: thick, black hair, vivid green eyes, an aristocratic nose, and he sported a very rich Scottish brogue. After staring for a moment, Albus broke into an apologetic smile and took the extended hand, shaking it firmly.

"Dear me ... forgive an old man for his failing memory. You look familiar, but I can't seem to place you." With that comment, Albus glanced down at the small girl holding the man's hand, catching her gaze, and winked at her.

Marcus let out a sharp guffaw.

"Old man my arse! Ye'll be kickin' the heather up when I'm long in the tooth," he replied, jovial and loud. "It's Marcus, sir ... Marcus McGonagall ... graduated three years back? I was in yer House. Couldn't get away with even a nip to the kitchens after curfew – yeh slept like a cat!"

The dawn of recognition washed over Albus. Of course he knew this boisterous young man, his former student, and now understood the recognition. Marcus could pass as a male version of Albus' protégée...Minerva McGonagall...they looked so alike. He was slightly ashamed that he had forgotten a recent resident Gryffindor, and Minerva's brother to boot. Without breaking composure, Albus turned his attention to the child by Marcus' side.

"This must be Amelia." Albus bent down and reached for her tiny, mittened hand, giving it a gentle kiss. "I've heard a great deal about you, little one. Your aunt told me that you're quite serious about your music. The violin, is it?" Albus paused as a shy smile crept over Amelia's face and she nodded. "I, in fact, supplied the wrapping paper for the Christmas gift she bought you." He paused, smiling. "Imagine my surprise when I looked in the box and saw, not a kaleidoscope or box of sweets, or even a magical toothbrush, but an enchanted bow! Did you like the wrappings? I'm afraid I didn't have much to choose from, and your aunt settled on something rather drab: owls carrying yule wreaths. You must accept my apology that I didn't have something more suitable for a lady of your age."

Amelia nodded again to his question but said nothing. The wizard towering above her reminded her of a young version of Father Christmas. Though his beard had only a few strands of silver, and he was far too thin for a true St. Nick, the twinkle of his eyes and the grin on his mouth were benevolently magical. She imagined him with a huge sack over his shoulder and bending down to give her the largest candy cane she'd ever seen. Amelia looked up at the professor and giggled softly.

"Yes sir, since my daddy said I couldn't have my own owl. Your wrappings were lovely, and Gran said I could keep it! She had Daddy cut out a section for my room!" she explained, and Albus straightened up and chuckled.

"No owl for Christmas? Well, my dear, I am quite pleased that the wrappings suited you so well." He paused, stroking his chin, then remembered the true reason they were all standing in the middle of the busy street. "I take it you two are heading to the stadium to watch Gryffindor play against Ravenclaw?" Albus asked, turning back toward the rise of the hill and reaching down to take Amelia's free hand.

"Oh, aye, we are at that. This'll be Amelia's first game. She's got two aunts playin' fer Gryffindor, so she's a wee bit excited." Marcus replied and winked at his niece, following Dumbledore's action and resuming their stride up the hill on either side of the tiny child. They walked slowly, giving Amelia's short legs plenty of time to keep up.

"I'm hoping to see most of the game; however, I'm expecting an owl any time about a Ministry meeting – perhaps I'll be fortunate, and the game will be short," Albus said and paused, glancing at Marcus. "Your sister tells me you're working at St. Mungo's?" he inquired.

"Aye, that I am. A Mediwizard at the moment, but working on my apprenticeship fer Healer – I'm expectin' that to take another four years or so. No rush, o'course."

"Ah, I must have gotten you confused with your brother. I thought he was the one with the ambition to become a Healer and that you worked with your mother at the apothecary." Albus silently scolded himself for his rudeness in forgetting so much of what he had learned recently of the McGonagall family. This was not normal. His memory was usually incredibly accurate.

Perhaps Galatea was right. I might be working too much.

"Nay, Professor, yer gettin' Mathew and myself confused – though yeh got some bits right. We both work with Mum – she assists with the apothecary – but its me Grandfather MacGruder who runs the business. Mathew is the primary Potioneer and also manages the family greenhouses, where we grow many of our medicinal plants." As Marcus explained, Albus nodded and listened, carefully directing the young McGonagalls through the throngs of people ascending to the Quidditch pitch.

"Mum's got her fingers in nearly all the family ventures, though she don't do much with the sheep." Marcus gave a light chuckle. "She says she has enough o' cleaning up after the infirm, she don't want to clean up after cattle. Not tha' I can blame ‛er." He paused and winked. "So the sheep are Da's domain, though Mathew helps some...as well as me uncles, Da's brothers. The McGonagall family has been farmin' sheep for near a century, yeh see."

Edging around a tree, Albus led them out of Hogsmeade proper and onto Hogwarts grounds, by-passing more than half the crowd that was previously in front of them by using a well-placed Teleportation spell. The magic was so smooth and seamless that Marcus was completely unaware of the significant distance they had just crossed. Amelia blinked a few times, looking around suspiciously at the trees as her uncle continued describing his apprenticeship, oblivious to the sudden change.

"Mum's me mentor at St. Mungo's. Yeh likely know she's one o' the three senior Healers in hospital. Specializes in reproductive health and pediatrics. But the hospital dun get all of her time o'course, she's got her private practice – few days a week – mostly pregnancies and tha' sorta thing, though folk come from all round to our wee Lairg to see Mum – both Muggle an Magical." Marcus paused while they navigated through a few trees as Albus led them off the beaten path on what may have been a shortcut. "I'm hopin', within the next few years, I'll be studyin' under Healer Sinclair, who leads research at St. Mungo's. His specialties be in microbiology and magical ailments, specifically curses, as well as envenomation by both magical and non-magical beasts."

Albus grinned, looking over at him as they wound their way through the last of the trees. "I see. Seems your need for excitement has extended into your professional career. I had hoped you'd have left that here, at Hogwarts." Albus gave him a knowing smile, eyes twinkling.

Marcus coughed, perhaps to end the subject of conversation, or just to keep Amelia from hearing more, and glanced at the professor. Quickly tilting his head down toward his niece, Albus understood immediately, that Marcus didn't wish to discuss any of his former exciting ideas, endeavors or consequences in the company of such young ears. Albus chuckled softly and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, nodding.

Dumbledore paused as they emerged adjacent to the northern bleachers, letting a large group of bustling students go ahead of them, and gently pulled Amelia out of the way of traffic.

"I was under the impression that your father was a minister. Has he retired to sheep farming?"

"Oh nay, he's still runs the kirk." Marcus chuckled. "Da won't leave the ministry until death takes him, and maybe not even then!" Another brash guffaw, and Marcus continued. "But the McGonagalls always had sheep in Lairg. We're actually one of the oldest families in Sutherland. I'm sure yeh know that Lairg be the location of the largest annual sheep auction in Britain," Marcus responded as they began to ascend the stairs into the Gryffindor section of bleachers.

"Ah, no, actually, I didn't," remarked Albus, feeling a bit bewildered at his lack of Scottish farming knowledge.

Amelia remained quiet as her uncle and the professor discussed Marcus' medical interests and the history of her family. In truth, little of the topic interested her, and most of it flat out confused her. Instead, her attention was focused on where they had been walking not even a minute before, quite a ways down the hill, in Hogsmeade. She couldn't quite decide how they had crossed such a distance in just a few strides, and her six-year-old mind pondered the possibilities of magic.

Marcus rattled on about McGonagall sheep husbandry, while Albus, listening attentively, led them to a section of empty seats next to some of Hogwarts' faculty. Marcus raised Amelia up and seated her on his lap, giving her an excellent view of the Quidditch pitch.

"Unless you'd prefer to sit with the students, you're welcome to sit in the faculty section as my guests," Albus explained, nodding to an approaching plump woman who wore a thick, yellow, woolen cap and cloak. Albus scooted closer to Marcus and Amelia to make more room on the bench seat.

"Galatea, join us! We just got here as well," Albus exclaimed, obviously expecting his colleague's arrival.

"Oh? Did you warm my seat?" she laughed, then looked over at Marcus and Amelia and smiled. "I see you've brought us company, Albus! Grand!"

"Professor Merrythought, allow me to introduce Marcus and Amelia McGonagall, special guests of mine, to my delighted surprise." As the yellow-clad woman sat down on the right side of Dumbledore, she leaned around and smiled toward the McGonagall pair.

"Well, of course I recognize my former student, Albus. I'm not that old ... yet." She gave a wide smile to Amelia. "Though I've not yet had the pleasure of meeting your daughter, Marcus." She extended her hand, and Marcus took it, giving it a friendly shake.

"My niece, Professor, my niece," he laughed. "I ain't been that busy! And good seein' you likewise. Aye, Amelia is my elder brother's wee-un; I just cart her around some." With that, Marcus poked Amelia in the ribs, eliciting a peal of giggles from the little girl. Both professors laughed at the pair's antics. Once the giggles died down, Marcus motioned toward the professor to his right.

"Amelia, this is Professor Merrythought. She'll be teachin' yeh how to protect yerself from curses in a few years. For my O.W.L. examination, this woman put all of us 5th years on this very pitch and forced us to fight off dragons and vampires while gargling butterbeer." Amelia gasped in shock at her uncle's words. "And we were only allowed to wield pumpkins and cabbages in our defense!" Amelia's blue eyes went as wide as saucers, staring over at Professor Merrythought.

"Oh for ..." Galatea snorted. "Marcus McGonagall, you should be ashamed of yourself! Filling that sweet child's head with such nonsense!" Turning her attention to the impressionable youngster, Professor Merrythought continued. "Miss McGonagall, don't you listen to your uncle. I did no such thing! Trust me, your O.W.L.s will take place inside a classroom, with only your quill, inkwell and parchment to contend with. No dragons. No undead." Glaring at Marcus, Merrythought didn't catch the amused expression on her Gryffindor colleague's face. "Besides, I'm teaching Charms these days, not Defense."

Laughing to himself, Marcus nodded as Amelia turned around to look at her uncle, unconsciously questioning him on these two very different histories of his earlier schooling. He only then realized he had never properly introduced Professor Dumbledore to his niece.

Ever the curious one, Amelia piped up as if hearing her uncle's thoughts.

"And what does he teach?" she asked, reaching over and tugging on Albus' sleeve.

"Professor Dumbledore teaches Transfiguration. Yeh probably don't remember him, but he was at your aunt's competition last year. Her mentor, in fact."

"Aunt Minerva's ... what?" She squinted up at the bearded man, trying to remember.

"A mentor ... that's a person who takes special interest and time in someone's learnin'. Much like yer gran mentors me at hospital. Professor Dumbledore teaches folk to change things into different things, like when Aunt Minerva transformed yer dress at Christmas: the one yeh hated?"

Amelia smiled shyly up at Dumbledore, and Albus tried to remember if Minerva had said her niece was five or six years old. Leaning toward his colleague, he laced his fingers together and stretched, causing the knuckles to crack.

"Galatea, are you fearful of rodents?" Albus asked, evoking an odd look from Professor Merrythought.

"No, Albus. Why on earth would you ask me that?" She eyed him warily before waving her wand and casting a warming charm on the bench. Musing at her reaction, Albus also withdrew his wand.

"Well, our young guest here informs me that she had hoped to receive her own personal owl for Christmas, you see, and I thought I might be able to fulfill that wish. A belated gift of sorts." As Albus spoke, Amelia's attention was ensnared, and she watched him with wide, wondering eyes.

"Father Christmas, are we today?" Galatea muttered, causing Albus to grin. "Albus, you could always purchase the child an actual owl..." but she was cut off as Albus began to wave his wand, casting spells, and Professor Merrythought gave up trying to talk him out of whatever elaborate plan he had already set in motion.

"Accio wild male mouse," Albus said, and within several seconds, a small, brown mouse had flown to his gloved and outstretched hand. Albus tapped it on the head gently, causing it to lie motionless. As if sensing what Amelia was thinking, he turned to her. "Not dead, my dear, just asleep. Makes the Transfiguration much easier, you see."

Professor Merrythought smirked and shook her head, watching him work as more students and faculty climbed into nearby seats. Amelia's eyes were intense as she watched, enraptured with Dumbledore's wand movements. Marcus' attention, however, was focused across the field, completely ignorant as to what was going on right next to him.

Uttering words in Latin that Amelia couldn't understand, Albus Transfigured the sleeping mouse into a small Tawny Owl and then cast several incantations over the newly formed bird before rousing the animal from slumber. The bird stumbled, then flipped upright in the wizard's large hand, and finally flapped its wings and took perch upon Albus' knee.

Amelia gasped in amazement, turning her uncle's attention back toward the professor.

"Oi! Yeh din have ta fetch Amelia an owl, Professor!" Marcus exclaimed.

Albus tucked his wand away and gently felt the bird's mid-section, then extended a wing, inspecting the animal for signs of deformity. Running his gloved fingers through the thick plumage and ruffling the poor creature's feathers quite thoroughly, Dumbledore at last decided the owl was properly proportioned, and brushed down the upset feathers.

"Actually, Mr. McGonagall ... I'm not giving her an owl, but rather, a Transfigured mouse, which now has the permanent form of an owl." He smiled, looking at Amelia, and pushed his hand up under the talons of the bewildered owl, encouraging the creature to climb onto the offered perch.

"Amelia, this owl is rather special, as it will only recognize you, well ... and myself, as its family. I tried to imprint you and your uncle upon him; however, since I semi-created him, I can't separate myself from his, now magical, resonance. At any rate, he might not be quite as bright as a normal owl, or live nearly as long; however, he will be very loyal to you. You should be able to teach him all the standard tricks a witch's owl can perform...with plenty of persistence and kindness, of course." Hastily, Albus added an idea. "Although you may want to avoid feeding him mice." With a wink, Dumbledore handed the bird to the young girl, who wasn't quite sure how to handle such an animal.

Amelia's eyes were huge as she stretched her tiny arm out to allow the owl to climb upon it, staring at the beautiful raptor. Instead of the typical dark brown Tawnies she was used to, this owl was much whiter, and had dark brown accents on the feathers around his head. The owl seemed far larger standing on her arm than it had on the professor's, and Professor Merrythought laughed warmly.

"Perhaps, Miss McGonagall, you could release your new owl to the Hogwarts Owlery until the game is over. Most owls tend to become frightened during such matches, due to all the players flitting about on brooms – he'll be quite safe if you send him up to the castle. We even have special treats for the birds who bring us mail!" She wiggled her eyebrows at the bright-eyed youngster, which made Amelia giggle. "I'm sure he'll be safe there until you're ready to fetch him."

A bewildered Amelia sat, still perched on her uncle's lap, right arm raised nearly over her head with a similarly bewildered Tawny Owl teetering back and forth on her tiny limb. Marcus deftly reached out to steady Amelia's arm and received a swift nip from the owl, who proceed to squawk and hiss at him. Though Marcus jerked his hand back quickly, he wasn't dextrous enough to avoid the bite and prevent his sheepskin gloves from being torn.

"Hey! Bad owl! Bad!" Marcus fumed as the bird lunged around Amelia's head toward his hand.

Professor Dumbledore sighed and muttered a few choice words in French. Before more mayhem could ensue, Albus reached over with both hands, plucking the bird off Amelia's arm and held its talons firm.

"I didn't realize you were training attack owls, Albus... a new experiment? Should I be worried?" Professor Merrythought teased. An aggravated Albus Dumbledore turned toward the plump witch on his right and tutted.

"Yes, in fact, I'm polishing up a legion of American horned owls to set loose on cheeky Hufflepuff witches," he retorted.

Professor Merrythought raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Well, in that case, I shall have to shield the dormitories and set a guard cat at every window." Satisfied with her equally sardonic response, she resumed her gaze over the pitch, a smug grin fixed on her face. As Amelia and Marcus watched, one with wide-eyed concern, the the other glaring angrily at the winged-beast, Albus uttered several incantations over the rogue owl. Satisfied with his adjustments, Professor Dumbledore turned to the concerned little girl on his left.

"Your new friend should find life less intimidating now. I think he was simply alarmed by all the drastic changes and strange company he awoke to. Now, before he can understand and obey basic commands, you will have to give him a name – inform him what his name will be, I mean. This is part of the magical bond he will have with you." Albus didn't think the youngster's eyes could get any wider until he mentioned the magical bond with her new pet. She nearly jumped off her uncle's lap onto the bench seat below her, which was thankfully empty, and squealed.

"Uncle Marcus! What should I name him?" Amelia exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. As her uncle opened his mouth to answer, Amelia interrupted and answered her own question. "Oh! I want to name him after the professor! Owl, your name is "Professor"!" Turning her attention toward Dumbledore, she asked hesitantly. "Can I name him after you, Professor?"

Professor Merrythought hadn't seen Albus Dumbledore blush in a very long time, and she chuckled under her breath as her colleague turned pink.

"It would be an honor, my dear," Albus replied softly.

Professor Merrythought, turning toward Amelia, then briefly explained how to send the bird to the Owlery. Albus, Marcus and Galatea watched as the youngest McGonagall followed the instructions with immaculate detail, sending the owl, teetering on new wings, toward the castle. They all watched, Albus a bit nervously, as the owl got caught in a wind gust and blown off course, only to right itself and soar toward the highest of the Hogwarts towers.

Amelia squealed. "My own owl! Thank you Mr. Professor!" She jumped off her uncle's lap and threw her arms around a very surprised Professor Dumbledore, kissing him on the cheek. Albus felt a blush start and knew he'd have to endure his colleague's teasing, quickly deciding it was worth it. Albus returned the little one's embrace and then released her, looking down at the huge smile encompassing Amelia's face. Albus chuckled, his belly feeling quite warm.

"You're welcome, Miss McGonagall. It was my pleasure."

Professor Merrythought grinned and leaned in close to Albus so that her whisper couldn't be overheard. "I haven't seen you blush this much since that little girl's aunt surprised you, this past Christmas, with a scrimshaw beard comb."

Galatea's voice was intentionally soft, and the combined effect of her warm breath against Albus' ear and the reminder of Minerva's gift caused his blush to deepen. To cover his embarrassment, Dumbledore silently conjured moisture to accumulate in the air around them, creating sleet in the biting winds and forcing a similar blush onto Professor Merrythought's cheeks.

"Unpleasant weather for a Quidditch match, wouldn't you say?" Albus was pleased when he turned toward his Hufflepuff colleague and noticed the color rising against her skin. Galatea shivered in response to the sudden onslaught of icy shards.

"Well, pickles! I don't remember the weather forecast calling for sleet!" she exclaimed.

A loud whistle rang out as players began emerging onto the field, crimson-clad from the left, royal blue from the right. A squelch flared in the air as the commentator announced the beginning of the game.

"Today's match, Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor! Captains Aaron Ollivander, for Ravenclaw, and Minerva McGonagall, for Gryffindor, take the field. The Quaffle is thrown into the air... and MacGruder takes the Quaffle! Gryffindor has the ball!" the young man's voice rang out over the pitch, carrying in every direction.

With that, the game began and the stands around the odd quartet erupted in cheers. Albus suddenly remembered his over-cloak was inappropriately colored, and Transfigured it from purple into crimson and gold.

"MacGruder passes to McGonagall ... Schwartz blasts the Bludger .... Oooh – that was close! And the Bludger is coming back around at McGonagall..."

As the commentator trailed off, Albus heard a company of droning bagpipes, accompanied by a brigade of snare drums, generate from the far end of the pitch. The music grew louder as he watched Minerva and Sara round the far goalposts, followed closely by the Ravenclaw Chasers. Roland McCreedy, the third of the Gryffindor Chasers, flew up and joined his teammates in formation as they, ahead of the Ravenclaw team, zoomed toward the Gryffindor bleachers.

As the three crimson-clad Chasers advanced toward their goalposts, Albus recognized the melody growing loud as "Scotland the Brave". Marcus stood up as his cousin and sister approached their section of bleachers, nearly taking the Quaffle out of bounds and giving Ravenclaw a free goal shot. Marcus started flailing his arms wildly, motioning the Gryffindor team back. Minerva managed a backwards pass to her cousin before she reached the foul line, passing the Quaffle over her head on instinct. Sara caught the ball and turned sharply, taking the Ravenclaw Keeper by surprise. Marcus let out a roaring cheer followed by a shrill squeal from Amelia.

"McGonagall has the Quaffle and is about to ... she's out of bou... no! She makes a backwards pass to MacGruder ... who scores on Ollivander! Ten points to Gryffindor!"

The roar of bagpipes was almost deafening in Albus' ears as Minerva overshot the foul line and turned behind their section of stands. As she flew over him on her returning pass, she dropped something into Amelia's lap and raced back across the field, narrowly dodging a Bludger, and sidled up against Feng Chang, the 6th-year Ravenclaw Seeker. Chang sped up quickly as Minerva approached and shot high above the pitch. Clandallin, seeing his captain's interest in the other Seeker, followed suit and saw an approving nod from Minerva as he followed Chang.

Amelia's squeal was lost in the cheering of Gryffindor fans, but her expression displayed surprised joy. Albus watched as she opened a tiny parcel wrapped in gold parchment. A finger puppet of a lion's head, in Gryffindor colors, emerged, and when the child donned the yarn-made toy, it became animated, opening its mouth in a tiny roar. Amelia smiled and showed her uncle, who laughed.

As the game progressed, the Ravenclaw Chasers made several attempts to score and found Keeper Moody an impassable obstacle. Twice, Albus was sure that Ravenclaw would succeed in scoring, but Moody always managed to reach the appropriate hoop in time to block the shots. Dumbledore was quietly impressed with the single-minded resilience that Moody displayed in his position. Alastor's tenacity and reflexes had grown admirably since the previous year, and just as the idea formed in his mind that Moody may have a promising career in Magical Law Enforcement, Professor Merrythought leaned over and shouted over the crowd.

"With reflexes like that, Mr. Moody would make an excellent candidate for the Auror Department, Albus. You should talk to him."

"I'm not sure now is the best time to be joining the MLE, Galatea, with this war looming," he commented. Merrythought cast a noise-softening charm in the air around herself to muffle the acoustic chaos so that she could better focus on what Albus was saying.

"While I too hate the idea of thrusting our students onto the battlefield, it may just be that this younger generation is what makes the difference between a free wizarding world and one ruled by a lunatic. I don't think Muggle Europe would have ever expected Hitler to rise to power so quickly. The parallels can't be ignored, Albus."

Dumbledore understood clearly she was alluding to Grindelwald. Albus had hoped the Quidditch match would be a pleasant distraction from his worries of late; however, he could not begrudge his colleague her concern. Galatea knew more about his recent activities than most, due largely to her involvement with the Auror Department years earlier and her continued influence in Muggle/magical communication between the different law enforcement departments of Great Britain. However, she was also one of his closest friends, and one of the very few he confided in. Dumbledore knew she was worried, not just for himself, but for the entire continent. He also detected some aggravation in her tone, knowing this was due to his vague answers to recent questions she had about the most prevalent developments in the Ministry.

"No, we can't, that is true. Speaking of which, did you remember that I am expected at a Ministry function this afternoon? Would you, or perhaps Reginald, look in on Gryffindor this evening? I doubt I'll be back before dinner." Galatea tutted at his response, disappointed with her inability to get Dumbledore to discuss further matters concerning the war and how he was involved.

"Of course I will, Albus," she remarked and cast a Finite on her muffling charm, understanding that their conversation was at an end.

Albus remembered something and turned toward Merrythought.

"Ah, my dear, I nearly forgot. Miss McGonagall will need access to my office for some study materials ... I'll leave a note on my desk with the associated tomes, would you grant her access? She is welcome to remain there as long as she requires, as the necessary materials cannot leave my rooms."

Professor Merrythought nodded in understanding just before the stands once again erupted as Gryffindor scored. Chaser McGonagall brought the score up to Gryffindor thirty, Ravenclaw zero, right before a tiny Scops owl swooped overhead and landed on Albus' knee. The bird looked extremely put out at having to navigate through the chaos of zooming broomsticks. Dumbledore unwrapped the note tied to the little bird's leg and tucked it in the inside breast pocket of his coat.

"I'm afraid that's my cue. Thank you, Galatea." He nodded to the witch before turning to the McGonagalls. "Mr. McGonagall, a pleasure meeting with you again. Miss McGonagall, a real treat meeting you at last." He smiled down at the rosy-cheeked child before rising from his seat. "If you have any problems or questions about ‛Professor,' ask your uncle or father to help you write me a letter." He gently patted Amelia on the shoulder.

Marcus reached out a hand to his former professor, shaking it firmly.

"Grand to see yeh again, Professor Dumbledore. Sorry yeh canna enjoy the rest of the game," Marcus half yelled over the din of the activity. Albus nodded but said nothing else and made his way to the exit of the bleachers. Amelia, anxious to get off her uncle's lap, climbed onto the seat that Dumbledore had just evacuated and stood so she could better see over the crowd.

The Gryffindor Chasers dominated the field and carried the Quaffle twice as often as the Ravenclaw team. McCreedy managed to score two goal shots by the time MacGruder and McGonagall had each scored at least half a dozen. Ravenclaw hadn't managed to score once, and their Seeker, Feng Chang, was desperately searching the sky for the Snitch, knowing they were quickly running out of time to gain the upper hand. Young Clandallin had also been widely circling the field, trying not to harass Chang. However, when the Ravenclaw Seeker took a sharp dive toward the ground, Darwin knew he'd spotted the Snitch and dove after him.

Chang was leading Clandallin by at least ten feet and was only a few seconds away from snatching the Snitch out of the air as the ball zoomed mere inches above the frosted turf of the pitch. Clandallin urged his old broom forward, but the decades-old model, one of the school's stock, just couldn't produce as much speed as the newer brooms that most of the players rode. Try as he might, he couldn't advance on Chang and hoped the Snitch would turn sharply, which would give Clandallin an advantage in pursuit, as he was far enough back to maneuver correctly. Darwin made the mistake of looking up as McCreedy made a dive to catch the Quaffle, missing his chance at the Snitch when it took a sharp left, nearly sending Chang headlong into the bleachers.

Damn it, Darwin ... you idiot! You just lost the game! he muttered to himself.

Roland McCreedy pulled out of the dive, catching the Quaffle by the tips of his fingers, and, just before plowing feet-first into the sod, managed to toss it high toward McGonagall, who was fast approaching. Relieved that Minerva caught the pass, Roland let himself tumble forward, where he flipped feet-over-head, and landed firmly on his backside.

Chang was gaining on the Snitch, which had slowed some when it changed directions, and Clandallin watched as the Ravenclaw Seeker pawed the air in front of him, reaching desperately for the ball. Darwin wished, more strongly than ever, that his parents had gotten him a new broom for Christmas instead of the magical castle-building set he had begged for.

MacGruder and McGonagall swerved in and around the Ravenclaw Beaters, dodging Bludgers and bats alike as the team tried everything in their power to stop the high-scoring pair. Minerva passed the Quaffle to her cousin, pulled up and launched forward, hoping to confuse Ollivander at the goalposts. Before Sara was overcome by two Ravenclaw Beaters, who flanked her on either side, she re-passed to Minerva, who rolled the pass into the left hoop, taking Ollivander completely by surprise.

"McGonagall scores for Gryffindor! It's 160 to zero and... oh! Chang has caught the Snitch! Ravenclaw has caught the Snitch, but it's not enough to gain the lead – and the game is over! Gryffindor 160 and Ravenclaw 150! Gryffindor wins!"

The Gryffindor section of bleachers erupted in cacophonous cheers. Marcus and Amelia were among the loudest.