Chapter Fourteen
Chapter 14 of 48
SquibstressBefore she was Professor McGonagall, she was Minerva Macnair. After an arranged marriage forces her into an impossible situation, Minerva does what she must to survive. When she makes a new life for herself, her secrets follow and threaten everything, including the only love she has ever found. The tale of a woman, her secrets, and how she keeps them.
Winner - 3rd Place, Best Drama-Angst WIP - Fall/Winter 2012 HP Fanfic Fanpoll Awards
15 April 1960
Malcolm was sitting in the kitchen with Elgar, who was teaching him how to make a proper custard.
"It is crucial, Master Malcolm, to keep stirring the pot gently," the elf was saying, indicating the wooden spoon that was revolving in a steaming pot. "You can do it by hand or by magic...once you is of age, of course...but you must do it, or the custard will curdle. Here," said Elgar, stopping the spoon and urging the boy to step to the stove. "Master Malcolm should try it."
Malcolm did as he was bid and took the spoon, gingerly stirring the pot.
He had been so disappointed when Elgar had arrived without his mother. She was delayed at the school, the elf said, and would be along as soon as she could. His last visit was at Christmas, and he was aching to see her, but at fifteen, he wasn't about to let anyone know, so he affected what he hoped was a world-weary nonchalance on the subject.
He knew he wasn't fooling Elgar, however. Malcolm couldn't keep his eyes from glancing toward the entry hall every few seconds, and finally, the elf had suggested it was time Master Malcolm learnt to cook a little...why didn't young Master come to the kitchen to assist Elgar in making the ginger-lemon curd he so loved with his scones? Gran and Granddad had given their blessing to the arrangement, and off he went with the elf.
So here he was, standing over a hot stove, stirring the curd as if he weren't a wizard with a wand to help him do manual tasks like this.
Ah, well, he told himself, one has to stir potions by hand, too. And he liked being with Elgar. It reminded him of when they were all together in France, a proper family. Before his dad had come over funny and ran off.
Because that's what had happened, Malcolm was sure of it. When he was young, he had believed what his mum had said about Father disappearing and nobody knowing what had happened. Then, when he got older, he heard stories about fathers who left mothers to go off with other women...it had happened to a classmate, who came home from one summer hol groaning about having two mothers after his dad had married the woman he'd left for. Malcolm supposed that might be why his dad had drunk so much those last months; he was in love with someone else, and it had torn him apart not to be with her.
Sometimes Malcolm wondered if Mum knew where Father was. Did she really believe he had just disappeared? Or did she know where he was and whom he was with? Malcolm never asked her, though, because he didn't want to hurt her. If she was happier living in a dream, he wasn't going to go out of his way to change it. Whatever had happened to make his dad leave, it wasn't her fault. Malcolm was sure of that too.
At first, he had missed his dad, despite the last frightening months; then, as his memories of the man faded, it was more like he missed the idea of his dad.
Sometimes he wondered if his dad had another son now.
Malcolm was so intent on his task and lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice her standing in the doorway to the kitchen until Elgar nudged him and he looked up to see her watching him with a small smile.
"Mum!" he cried, dropping the spoon to go to her. She embraced him, kissing his cheek and hugging him to her.
"Och, Malcolm," she said, ruffling his brown mop, "don't they teach you any hair-trimming spells at that French school of yours?"
"No, Mum. They don't teach us anything at Beauxbatons. It's a second-rate institution you've sent me to," he teased. "Maybe I should transfer to Hogwarts. Although I hear their Transfiguration mistress is a terror."
"That's Professor Terror to you, lad," said a voice from behind him, and he saw his granddad come in and embrace his mother warmly.
"Ah, Minerva. 'Tis good to see ye."
"It's good to see you too, Father," she replied.
The curd forgotten, the three of them made their way to the parlour, where Malcolm's gran was sitting reading a book.
"So you found them, I see, Magnus," Gran said.
They talked of all manner of things until they were interrupted by dinner.
As they ate their cock-a-leekie, Gran asked, "What was the emergency that kept you at the school, Minerva?"
Malcolm's mum answered, "Professor Yates, our Deputy Headmaster, took ill on Wednesday. We got the news yesterday that it was dragon pox."
"Morgana preserve us!" Gran exclaimed.
"It's all right, Mother. He was wise enough to take to his rooms as soon as he began feeling ill, and we were under quarantine until this afternoon. I didn't tell you before because I didn't want to worry you. Albus brought some Healers up from St Mungo's to run diagnostics on the entire school, and nobody else has been infected, thank Merlin. That's why I was late getting here; we were just getting the last students off at five. I'm sorry to be late, Malcolm," his mother said, turning to Malcolm.
"That's all right, Mum. I'm just glad everyone is all right," he replied.
"Well, not everyone," she corrected. "Unfortunately, Professor Yates is in a very bad way. He's not a young man, and the pox is a nasty disease."
"I'm sorry to hear it. Do they know how he contracted it?" Granddad asked.
"Not with any certainty, no," Mum replied. "He has a friend who has been working in Romania, and evidently they've been having a small outbreak in the north. Phillip's friend was in town last weekend, and they met up at the Three Broomsticks...incidentally, they're still under quarantine. Fortunately, they didn't . . . um . . . leave the room much, so other exposures were limited, or we'd likely be dealing with a mass quarantine now. Phillip...Professor Yates...told Albus that the man seemed well at the time, but one never knows. The incubation period is around forty-eight hours, apparently, so it's possible he infected Phillip sometime over the weekend, while he still appeared well."
"Gods," said Granddad. "The man who invents a potion to cure dragon pox will be made Minister of Magic in a heartbeat."
Mum replied, "The man or woman who invents a potion to prevent dragon pox will have the eternal gratitude of the wizarding world. The scars are terrible, even if one survives the illness."
"Here, here," said Gran, raising her glass, and they all followed suit.
The next day, Malcolm and his mother were out on the manor grounds, Malcolm swooping and soaring on his broom. He'd been a Chaser for one of the Beauxbatons Quidditch teams since the past year and was anxious to show her some of his newest moves.
When he finally lit next to her, she was grinning widely. "You certainly know how to put that Silver Arrow through its paces. I don't believe I've ever seen anyone pull out of a dive and ascend again so quickly! I'd be surprised if a Bludger ever even caught your wind."
"Oh, Mum," he answered when he caught his breath. "You've never seen a professional game, then."
"I have! Amelia and I have seen the Harpies twice now, I'll have you know."
"You have?" Malcolm was surprised. "You've never been much interested in Quidditch."
"Well, I never had a son who was on a team before. Besides, I have to attend all the school matches, so I thought I might as well learn something about the game. Amelia's a big fan, and she's been giving me the introductory course."
"You surprise me, Mum," he said.
She just smiled at him.
"I wish . . ." he started, then checked himself. If wishes were Thestrals, his mum would say next.
But she surprised him again.
"What do you wish, love?"
"Oh, just that you could see me play sometime," he said, trying to sound casual.
"I wish that too," she said. Then: "Come. It's almost time for lunch, and you'll need a bath before Gran lets you anywhere near her table."
As he was scrubbing the grit and perspiration from his body, Malcolm thought about what his mum had said...that she wished she could see him play. Maybe this would be the time to ask her, then.
Malcolm wanted to come to Scotland to live with her.
He liked Beauxbatons well enough; he did well in his studies and had friends, and making the Quidditch team last year had been great, but he felt more and more untethered lately. Like an orphan. Oh, Mum wrote every week...sometimes several times...and they were together on hols (when she could get off, that is) and all summer, but the plain, unvarnished truth of it was that he felt he was missing something. Holiday gatherings like this only served to underscore the feeling of emptiness when his mum left him at the filigreed gates of the French school.
He also felt that there was an indelible mark on him that was visible only at school. He had been a first-year...only in his second week...when he had been called into Headmistress Charpentier's office to find his mother standing there, looking grave and shaken.
By the end of his third week at Beauxbatons, everyone knew about his father. By the end of his fourth, everyone also knew that his mother had been forced to sell nearly everything in their flat to pay for his second term at school.
To be sure, there were other kids whose troubled homes were common topics of discussion, but it didn't make Malcolm feel any kinship for them, nor did it make his own dubious fame easier to bear.
A new start, a new school...a new country...might ease that. And he'd get to be part of a family all the time, not just via letter from afar or over hols that were over all too soon.
He would ask her before the week was out, he resolved. He didn't know why he was nervous, though. There was really no good reason for her not to agree.
/***/
"I think you've got it now," Mum said the third time Malcolm had managed to Transfigure the garden gnome into a perfect common gopher. "Change him back, then we can have a spot of tea, all right?"
Malcolm did so, and moments later, the gnome was gnashing its teeth and trying to bite Mum as she lifted it by one foot and dropped it into the cage on the desk. After she had summoned a house-elf and asked her to deposit the gnome on the grounds ("outside the gate, if you please, Gemmy"), she ordered the tea.
"I'm very pleased with your progress, Malcolm," she said. "You've a real aptitude for Transfiguration. Do you enjoy the subject?"
"Yes. It's my favourite, but . . ."
"But?" his mum enquired.
"It's just that Professeur Perrault . . . not to say anything bad about him, mind you . . . it's just that I feel as if he's holding me back. He won't give me any advanced assignments, even though I'm way ahead of my class."
"Maybe he doesn't believe you're ready to advance," Mum said.
"Maybe," said Malcolm. "But what do you think?" he asked.
He saw her lip twitching before she answered. "I don't think it's my place to criticise another teacher's methods."
"So you do think I'm ready!"
"That isn't what I said, Malcolm," she admonished.
"But Mum, you've seen what I can do. I just feel as if I'm . . . as if I'm...what's the word?...stagnating. Yes, like I'm stagnating in his class when I could be moving ahead. Didn't you do advanced projects when you were my age?" he asked.
"Yes, I did, but Malcolm..."
"See? Professor What's-His-Name didn't try to hold you back, he helped you get ahead!"
"Dumbledore."
"I'm sorry?"
"His name is Professor Dumbledore," she said quietly. "And yes, he did help me."
Malcolm was chastened for just a moment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any disrespect."
She didn't say anything for a few moments, and Malcolm thought she was angry. This wasn't going at all the way he had hoped.
When she spoke, though, she didn't sound angry. She sounded worried. "What of your other courses, Malcolm? Do you feel . . . constrained in any of your other classes?"
He saw his opening and took it. "Well, I feel as if I could be doing more in Charms and Magical Defence. But it's really Transfiguration where I'm frustrated."
"Malcolm, I'm very hesitant to interfere with another teacher's methods..."
"But you could teach me!" he blurted out.
"What do you mean?"
"Mum, I'd like to come to Hogwarts."
There. It was out.
He held his breath for a few moments as she stood saying nothing but looking at him in shock.
He was taken aback when he saw tears form in her eyes and begin to spill down her cheeks.
"Oh, Mum! I'm sorry!" he exclaimed and went to her.
"No, no, Malcolm," she sniffed. "You've nothing to be sorry for. Nothing."
He conjured a handkerchief and handed it to her, earning him a wan smile.
Drying her eyes, she asked, "Is that what this has all been about? You want to come home?"
"Um . . . well, partly."
"Were you afraid to ask me, Malcolm?"
"No, not exactly. It's just I know what you had to do to get the tuition for Beauxbatons, and I didn't want you to think I was ungrateful."
"No, lamb. I don't think you're ungrateful," she said, putting a palm out to stroke his cheek, which had lately begun sprouting a soft, auburn fuzz, lighter than the hair on his head. "I just thought you were happy at Beauxbatons . . ." she said, and he was alarmed to see her eyes fill again.
He quickly said, "Oh, I have been happy there, Mum. It isn't that. I just think that I'd like to be closer to you, to Gran and Granddad. I don't know why, exactly. It's just something I feel."
"If you're sure..."
"Oh, I am!"
"Well then, I'll speak to Professor Dumbledore to see if we can arrange a place for you for next term."
"Mum, that's fantastic!"
"Yes, well, don't thank me just yet," she said, and Malcolm was relieved that his familiar, stern mum was back. "Coming in in your fifth year won't be easy. You'll be ahead in some courses and behind in others."
"I know."
"And you may find it difficult to make friends. All the other students already know each other quite well by now."
"I know."
"And there's no guarantee you'll make the Quidditch team of whatever House you're put into . . ."
"That's fine, Mum. Really. I've thought about all those things, and it's worth it."
"If you're sure then . . ."
"I am."
She opened her arms and he let her hug him.
"It will be nice to have you home," she said.
Malcolm was pleased to note that she was trembling with happiness.
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Latest 25 Reviews for A Slant-Told Tale
162 Reviews | 4.64/10 Average
Oooooh, crap. Minerva has gone through far too many things, which it would really turn her into the strong woman she is. I am really enjoying how the story keeps surprising me. Thanks for this fic! :)
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
I love doing backstory for interesting characters we only really glimpse in the books!Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!
I wasn't expecting the true Bathilda Bagshot too! Such a treat! :)
oooh! Nice start!I love Minerva's character and I am really looking forward reading a whole story centered on her :)
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
Thanks. I love Minerva, as you can see by the number of stories I've written about her!
Ah! The Kids' POV. It would have to be Hermoine--none of the others are observant or discreet enough. Yes, Hermione, even old fogeys can be in love, and real love doesn't mind flaws... It would be interesting for Molly and Hermoine to discuss Alastor and Minerva during cooking lessons sometime. What would the kids say if they knew that Miinerva's married name was MacNair?Speaking of that, will we get to see Malcom, or Minerva's grandkids? Malcolm is still one of my all-time favorite OC's.
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
Yes, Hermione, of course. And I'm glad you picked up on the parallel between Molly and Hermione, and their observations of McGonagall/Moody. It would be an interesting conversation, all right!We may get a glimpse of Malcolm and his brood soon.Stay tuned. It won't be such a long wait as last time!
Oh my!!! <Happy dance!>. I am so thrilled to see this! I'll have to go back and re-read it all. I cheated and just re-read the end of the last chapter to remind myself where we are. It was interesting to see the meeting of the reconstituted OOtP, and to see the discussion about using Sirius' house as headquarters. I also liked the discussion re:Umbridge. I never thought Dumbledore or Minerva were completely oblivious to what Fudge was up to there, but Harry's POV always seemed to suggest that. I was glad to see that Alastor is still with Minerva, too.Now to chapter 42!
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
Thanks for your patience, LOL!I had to go back and reread myself before I finished the chapter.No,I don't think the grownups are nearly as gormless as the kids seem to think they are. You know how teenagers are.
I had to look twice in my inbox when the notice came in that this piece had been updated. To say I was excited would be an understatement. I thought to go back and reread before reading this update, but didn't have the time, and it was interesting to see all the order members, as well as the kids, in this chapter. My favorite bit was when Alastor was gruffing about Tonks refusal to fly into the clouds, and the assumption that Moody would have them fly to Wales and back to throw off a tail.
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
Updated at last.Glad you enjoyed Alastor being Alastor!More soon, I hope.
I had to look twice in my inbox when the notice came in that this piece had been updated. To say I was excited would be an understatement. I thought to go back and reread before reading this update, but didn't have the time, and it was interesting to see all the order members, as well as the kids, in this chapter. My favorite bit was when Alastor was gruffing about Tonks refusal to fly into the clouds, and the assumption that Moody would have them fly to Wales and back to throw off a tail.
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
Yes, believe it or not, I'm trying to finish this sucker. I had to go back and read before I wrote it!It was fun to write a bit of Tonks--someone I never wrote before.Hopefully, there will be more before too long.
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
I'm excited! I might go back and reread everything now that you're active again.
......worshipping every inch of her...Oh God, you made me cry. Love's plaint- keening softly after that break-up that hurts. god, haven't we tried it sometimes.. how well written, like a straight needle you don't see in the text, Oh why isn't forgiveness easier to get and give. Those two proud people. Why did Minervagive up on him.? Doesn't she know he loves her?
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
Sorry to have made you cry ;-) I think Minerva's earlier experiences have made her leery of difficult relationships. We'll have to see how they end up!
This is gripping, fabulous. I agree, there shouild be many more reviews, I adored the quick knowledgeable vistas into student life in Paris - more of these, if possible.
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
Again, sorry to be so late in responding (am just catching up after a crushing work season!)Thanks for reading, and I'm glad you enjoyed the Paris scenes!
First off, thanks so much for the update! I've been in the mood for HP fanfiction lately, but if I (start to) read one more story that turns out to be focused on evil!Dumbledore I may swear off forever. It's quite depressing.This was up to your usual high standards. The look inside Alastor's head when he was trying to convince himself that it was really Minerva outside his door (and even after he let her in) was both believable and heart-breaking. If Minerva is determined to salvage their relationship she has some hard work ahead of her.I liked how Minerva didn't let Alastor chase her away, and how she subjected Albus to the same spells Alastor used on her -- and that Albus let her. I also liked that they convinced him to stay. He will be needed. I really liked Minerva's POV, how she tried to think only of helping Alastor, and making him comfortable. The last bit was good too.
“I don’t think there’s much I’d mind tonight.”It was perhaps a terrible thing to say, given everything that had transpired, but it was the truth. She’d think about the Dark Lord and Cedric Diggory and everything else tomorrow. Tonight, there was only the fact that Alastor still lived.Sometimes when things are bad, you have to focus only on the good things, or you just can't handle it. We know she's going to do her part (and if you continue this through DH she has a very rough patch coming) so it's good to see her at least get a good nights sleep.
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
Thanks.It was time to give Minerva and Alastor a bit of a break from the angst. They've been through a lot!Glad you enjoyed it.
You have outdone yourself. Again. I always enjoy seeing canon events from another POV, and I always enjoy Minerva's, but this is special, even so.First though, I loved seeing that Alastor still had some fight left, even after everything he's been through, and the glimpse we get here is just horrifying. But I was also very glad to learn that he's realized how much he screwed up with Minerva, and is even willing to admit it. I hope he stays willing...Minerva's thoughts about Harry were great. No, she probably wouldn't admit she favored him, and no, logical thinking really isn't his strong suite. I thought your description of Dumbledore in shock was probably quite accurate too. He had to have taken some time to assimilate everything, he's only human, after all. I was a little surprised to see how quick Severus was on the uptake, but then I realized that he knew something was up even before Harry returned -- he felt the mark burn when Voldemort called the Deatheaters from the graveyard, after all.I loved seeing Minerva's version of the Kiss, and her rant at Fudge was absolutely awesome.Then there's this:
"Alastor, it's Minerva.""Minerva?"His voice was thin and creaky, and the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard."Here I am, love," she said...."Alastor?""Hmm?""Are you-- are you all right?"It was a stupid question, but he didn't seem to mind. He grinned like a man drunk."Never better." He lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the light and looked up at her. "Jaysus, but you're beautiful."She let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob.Awwwww.
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
Thanks for the lovely comments.Glad you caught the bit about Severus. I think some people were confused by that!Best,Squibstress
So tickled to see this updated! I'm also quite thankful that Barty hasn't caught on that Minerva and Alastor had a thing together. Thank goodness for small favors, eh? He could really destroy her if he did. Oh dear, I hope I haven't given you any ideas ...
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
I'm really trying to get moving on this story.Ideas... ideas...
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
I also like how you contrasted real Alastor with impostor Alastor - aka Barty ... its quite a difference but similar enough to fool even some of his closest friends.I think I would like to see some of what our dear Alastor is thinking down in that trunk, but of course I am not trying to persuade you or anything.
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
I'm so glad that worked for you, because it was a connundrum. In canon, JKR made Crouch sound so much like Moody that of course, no one twigged to the difference. I didn't want to do that, but there was a fine line between making him too much and too little like the real Alastor.Have you read Selmak's "The Steadfast Tin Soldier"? (It's on FFN.) She did a fabulous (and disturbing) job of imaginging what it would have been like for him in that trunk.(And it's a lovely bit of AM/MM.)
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
Well then ... I suppose I'll just have to do that. In addition, as you probably already know, White Eyebrow also did a great job with his Moody in the trunk bit ... Alastor has been on my mind quite a lot these past few weeks ... with the new knowledge that I have of the surname ... who would have ever thought. All the more reason to love Alastor.
*groans* And again ... I forgot ... Well ... misclicked.
Oh ... forgot to hit the button for notification if you respond ...
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
I do that all the time.I also forget where I've left my car keys, my car, my glasses...
Well ... the last line surely took me by surprise ... way to advance time by leaps and bounds!Its been awhile since I've delved into your work, and Slant in particular ... I had to reread a few things and still others have me scratching my head .... "Frogs?" ... but anyway ... Alastor's stubborn idiocy is quite perfect really ... well parallelled to Albus' inability to allow himself to be loved ... seems they have both fallen - or dove - into that fortress of solitude.Your work is amazing, as always.
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
Tee, hee.Yeah, now that the business between Albus and Malcolm has been dealt with, I thought I should get start getting on with Minerva and Alastor."Frog" is a somewhat pejorative term for French person. (Alastor is not overly fond of the French.)Poor Minerva. The men in her life are somewhat foolish about love, aren't they?Thanks for sticking with the story, despite my eratic updates.
Woohoo! An update!I was happy to see Malcom and Eliane's marriage, and that the revelations about the past haven't hurt his relationship with his mother -- or his fathers. Minerva certainly seemed more relaxed than we've seen her in a while. The last sentence was a bit startling. It was good to see that Malcom will make her a grandmother, but I do hope that we see her again before then!I was sorry, but not surprised, to see Alastor continue his downward slide into paranoia. Since this is adhering to book canon (my least favorite thing about the story), his relationship with Minerva has to be distant enough for her to not suspect Crouch when the time comes, and any reconciliation between them would negate that.I'm not sure what to think about Albus. If he is unable to love, it appears to me to be because he has chosen to harden himself (with his 'iron will'), rather than it being his natural state. It's as though he fears love, or maybe what he might be capable of doing for love? In his thoughts he seemed almost relieved that he didn't feel like a father to Malcom. His reaction to the wedding was surprising, to say the least. It certainly didn't seem as though there was any happiness or joy in his tryst with Malquin, nor did it seem as though either of them expected there to be, so I have to wonder exactly what he was seeking -- a form of oblivion or denial, perhaps? I do wonder what might break through his facade (and I do think it is a facade, but then I've always liked Dumbledore, flaws and all). Anyway, it was great to be able to read this, and I hope you will be able to update again soon!
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
Thanks for reading and reviewing.Sorry about the canon-compliance--it's just ingrained in me, I think--but there may be some more surprises.Whenever I write Albus I always have to confront what I see as the complications canon throws in my way. I love him, but he does some really awful things to people he supposedly cares for, so I suppose these fics are my way of trying to work that out. In this fic, whether or not he's actually capable of love is up to the reader.Sorry too about the long interval. RL has thrown me a few curves, but I hope to get back to a more regular pattern of updates.Thanks for sticking with the story.
Response from dsky (Reviewer)
RL has a way of doing that.I am usually fairly rigid about canon myself. No matter how much I like a story, there's a little voice in the back of my head whispering 'but, but, but... that's not what/how it happened'. With HP though, there are so many conflicts, between the books, and interviews, and quasi-official websites, and Pottermore, that the only way to shut the voice up was to decide that only what's printed in PS/SS thru DH is canon. But it is all out there, and I can't un-know it, so I eventually decided, OK, if there are that many versions of the truth, I'll just pick the one(s!) I like best! (Everyone else does.) It lets me enjoy the RAMverse too, so that's all good.As far as Dumbledore is concerned, a lot of the negative things we learned were slanted through Rita Skeeter's pen, or his brother, or other people who didn't like him. He asked people to do a lot, but we're only privy to a miniscule part of whatever conversations went on, and he was the only general in a war with the future of the entire world at stake. He willingly died for it. People seem willing to give Snape a lot bigger break than they give Dumbledore, maybe because Snape turned out to be better than they thought (or maybe because Alan Rickman is so fantastic).I admit to only having read DH twice, and both of those a long time ago, so there may be some details I've forgotten, but I'm quite happy without them. I do love the universe though, especially the adults, and especially as expanded upon by FF writers. I can only take the kids in small doses, though. I do thank you for hours of entertainment, and your take on the characters and the universe is always entertaining.
*snip*
The door to Minerva's quarters banged open, and she swept through, dropping her bag on the table as she made a beeline for the liquor cabinet to pour herself two fingers of Cardhu. But she couldn't enjoy it; she was still too angry. She'd kept her temper in check all afternoon, but now it threatened to erupt full force and needed an outlet. She yanked her wand out of its pocket to point it at one of the cushions on her settee. It exploded in a riot of feathers, their indolent fluttering only stoking Minerva's ire. She Transfigured them into needles that hovered in the air, and imagined them pricking Sirius bloody Black until he screamed. Her fury was stemmed by the image but not scotched.I can go one better. She Transfigured the crimson velvet of the other cushion into a reasonable approximation of Black's too-handsome face, then sent the needles hurtling through the air to embed themselves in the cushion-cum-portrait. Black's fuzzy smirk changed to a silent scream of horror. The effort involved in the magic she'd just performed served its purpose, and she felt calm enough to have her drink.
*snip*
Holy CRAP! *dashes out of the room to avoid Minerva Wrath!*
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
I think you have painted Black and Potter EXACTLY how I saw them from the books ... EXACTLY! I can so relate to Minerva's anger now .... those MORONS!
OH and ...
*snip*
"Everything all right, lamb?" He looked up from contemplating his dish. "Sure. Why?" "You didn't eat much dinner, and now you've barely touched your cream-crowdie. When you've lost your sweet tooth, I know something's wrong."
*snip*
*grins* Daddy's boy, eh? I love eeet!
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
*snip*
"Oh, Malcolm—" "How could he have no idea that you might end up pregnant if he slept with you? Was he a complete fool, or just a randy bastard?" "Don't you dare!" she shouted, and Malcolm recoiled as if he'd been slapped. "Mum—" "No, you have no right to judge him! I lied to him, and I used him, used our friendship. And he forgave me, even though I believe it nearly killed him to find that he had a son he couldn't raise. He wasn't— Malcolm?" He had taken two staggering steps backward and clapped a hand over his mouth.
*snip*
See there - see that right there? See this is why you are brilliant. You showed us HOW Malcolm figured it out ... you show us how brilliant Malcolm is ... see, you could have just said it, but how dull that would be, but you SHOW us ... Malcolm figures out who his father is BY his mother's reaction! Who is she loyal to a fault to ... who is she absolutely devoted to, without being in a romantic relationship? Yeah ... brilliant.
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
*snip*
"Malcolm, wait, please." Her tone stopped him. "What?" "Come sit down. I have something else to tell you."
*snip*
ARG! The only thing I can think of is ... um the rat incident ... but ARG! Cliffhangers are not KIND!
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
*taps foot* If I am going to submit these silly reviews, I bloody well expect you to at least read them! *snort*
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
My first response was "????" But then I saw that you submitted the review in July. Don't know why I didn't see them then, but a million apologies!I can't take total credit for the Marauders; the incident I alluded to was something JKR wrote as a fundraiser. (But Minerva's reaction is all my own, LOL!)Yes, I think Malcolm is pretty clever, like his parents.Thanks for the kind words!
*snip*
Malcolm didn't say anything, and Alastor prodded him. "Answer my question. Do you want kids?"
"What I want or don't want doesn't come into it. I can't have children."
*snip*
Now that sounds just like someone else we both know ... perfect really, Malcolm does seem to resemble his father more than his mother, the way you wrote him, and ironically, he doesn't even know his father yet.
*snip*
He didn't see. He didn't see at all, and that was fine by Alastor. It was better that way. Better Malcolm should think it was animosity rather than fear. He and Minerva didn't need to be lumbered with a useless old cripple who was prone to hearing things that weren't there. They both had better things to do.
Malcolm said, "She only wants to help. She cares about you."
"Don't need her help."
It sounded harsh and ungrateful, and it was. He was suddenly angry, and he couldn't be grateful that a woman who once loved him now felt sorry enough for him to spend her precious summer days caring for the gimp he'd become.
*snip*
Pride is a terrible emotion that does nothing but isolate us from those that care about us as well as cause us to put ourselves on pedestals, and we all know there is only one way down from a pedestal.
*snip*
She had a word—several words—and by the time she finished, all traces of Spleen's smile had evaporated, and he was stammering apologies and nodding his head in vigorous agreement when she told him that she expected to hear that Senior Auror Alastor Moody had received nothing but the most respectful and compassionate treatment, lest Spleen find himself answering to her, to Malcolm, and to Albus Dumbledore, Auror Moody's dear friend.
*snip*
I like this bit ... Minerva couldn't just say 'my family' but that's what she means ... which again causes me to wonder ... now that Malcolm knows - well in the next chappie anyway ... will he change his name ... I wouldn't think to Dumbledore or Albus would probably have a cow, but to McGonagall, I'd think that would be appropriate.
Spleen reminds me of a nurse I had when I busted my head open as a kid. He was so nasty to me. You do a very good job of making him absolutely awful. I so hate false concern and congeniality.
And I can see Alastor being a royal pain of a patient. *nods* I think that fits. No cooperation on his part what so ever. Much as I love him, I think I'd have to smack him here.
Did I mention that your work was brilliant? OH I did? OK well never mind then *whistles*
Shit. You are an evil, evil woman. I hate cliffhangers.
Malcolm took it much better than I thought he would, but then, in a way, he's been facing the same choice, so he should understand. And he's thoughtful, and intelligent, and... did I mention that I like Malcolm? I hope he takes the next bit half as well.
When she didn't respond, he continued. "How many mad Macnairs do you think I'd father? One? Two? How many is too many?"
There was a roaring in her ears, and her belly attempted to turn over.
Not now.
Somehow, she'd convinced herself that Malcolm wouldn't see things the way she had done as a young woman faced with the same dilemma. That worry had been packed away with the last of her wedding silver and Gerald's clothes when she'd fled the horrors of her marriage for the promise of new freedom in her native land. She realised now that her unwillingness to admit the seriousness of Malcolm's feelings for Eliane Giroux had perhaps been another way of avoiding the issue.
Well said. It's frightening sometimes, how easy it can be to convince ourselves that what we want to be true, is true, and it takes a major setback for us to re-examine our beliefs.
A familiar anger gripped her, and she crossed her arms tightly around her body. What did her son--or any of her students--know of difficult choices? They, who had been born into a post-Grindelwald world, with freedoms they enjoyed without understanding how much it had cost. And now there was another war because of it, because so many people failed to understand that, yes, constant vigilance was required to keep those hard-won freedoms for everyone, witch and wizard, pure-blood and Muggle-born.
Well said again, and true about so many things.
"How could he have no idea that you might end up pregnant if he slept with you? Was he a complete fool, or just a randy bastard?"
"Don't you dare!" she shouted, and Malcolm recoiled as if he'd been slapped.
"Mum--
"No, you have no right to judge him! I lied to him, and I used him, used our friendship. And he forgave me, even though I believe it nearly killed him to find that he had a son he couldn't raise. He wasn't-- Malcolm?"
He had taken two staggering steps backward and clapped a hand over his mouth.
I loved this. How quickly she rose to Albus' defense, and how quickly Malcolm figured out who it was when she did.
I liked the bit at the beginning too -- about how immature James and Sirius were, and how she channeled her anger. I always thought the Marauders went from prats to saints a little too quickly. At least here you show that it took a little time.
Well done once again. I've been anticipating this chapter since almost the beginning of the story, and I was not disappointed. I think I could have quoted the whole thing. I love Minerva and Malcolm together, and I liked seeing things from Minerva's POV. I am eagerly awaiting the next installment!
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
I truly didn't intend for this to be a cliffie, but the chapter was getting long.I think it helped that Minerva's news meant Malcolm could follow his heart. I'm glad this chapter met expectations. I've been thinking about it since I first conceived this story (pun intended), although I didn't think it would take me quite so long to get here!The opening bit about James and Sirius was inspired by a 500-word story JKR wrote to benefit EnglishPEN, so I used it for my nefarious purposes. I think they were abominably immature and cocky, which I can only imagine drove Minerva to drink, LOL!
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
I truly didn't intend for this to be a cliffie, but the chapter was getting long.I think it helped that Minerva's news meant Malcolm could follow his heart. I'm glad this chapter met expectations. I've been thinking about it since I first conceived this story (pun intended), although I didn't think it would take me quite so long to get here!The opening bit about James and Sirius was inspired by a 500-word story JKR wrote to benefit EnglishPEN, so I used it for my nefarious purposes. I think they were abominably immature and cocky, which I can only imagine drove Minerva to drink, LOL!
Whew! Alastor just can't catch a break, can he? This section:
There was no such diffidence with this one. Alastor was being pulled forcefully in a direction he was sure he didn't care to go.There was no air, and it was fast becoming a question of who'd pass out first.
I'm god damned if it'll be me.
His consciousness was funnelling away. Alastor marshalled his last bit of magical energy and concentrated on a single stone in the floor of the Ministry cell--the one with the scorch mark where a supposedly Petrified collar had surprised him by firing a wordless curse--just that stone and nothing else.
There was a burst of light, and his chest expanded. At the same moment, his back hit something hard enough that if he'd had any air left in his lungs, it would have been knocked out of him. Something warm and wet was on top of him, and when he opened his eyes, he saw the Death Eater's eyes only millimetres from his. They were lifeless and staring.
is just outstanding. I really feel and see the whole sequence.
I loved seeing Malcolm again, all grown up and still with Eliane. I loved that he stepped up and became the 'adult' to comfort Minerva when she needed it. I had wondered about his reaction to the breakup, Alastor really was more a father to him than anyone else. (She obviously hasn't told him Albus is his father. Not that I'm surprised by that.) I'd guess Minerva told Malcolm about the break-up the way she did because she didn't know what else to say -- they broke up in September, and she just wrote a short note at the end of a letter in October? It was probably as hard for her to write it as it was for him to read it. And three years on, clearly she still loves Alastor, but I don't think either of them could change enough to make it work between them long-term.
As much as I love Malcolm, I always get a sense of foreboding when he is around, probably because I'm afraid you're going to up the ante on the angst, and he's Minerva's real weakness. He's also probably my favorite OC in any story I've read. He's just so real, and you've done a wonderful job of getting inside his head as he's grown-up, giving him age-appropriate reactions and thoughts. That and he seems like a thoroughly decent guy.
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
Yeah, this is sort of the "abuse Alastor" section of the story.I'm so glad you enjoy Malcolm! He is Minerva's greatest weakness, as you say, and they do have some unfinished business, so there will be a bit more of him.
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
Yeah, this is sort of the "abuse Alastor" section of the story.I'm so glad you enjoy Malcolm! He is Minerva's greatest weakness, as you say, and they do have some unfinished business, so there will be a bit more of him.
I adore this version of Alastor so much that it really hurts to see him becoming a lonely, suspicious drunk. Which is probably a compliment to your writing, but it still makes me sad!
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
Thanks. I love Alastor too. We always hurt the one we love. At least, writers do. I strongly suspect we're all secret sadists.Thanks for reading and commenting!
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
Thanks. I love Alastor too. We always hurt the one we love. At least, writers do. I strongly suspect we're all secret sadists.Thanks for reading and commenting!
An update! An update! [Happy Dance]
Oh, how sad! She's keeping things from him to avoid the arguments, and he's setting tests for her to make her prove she cares, and lashing out to get some reaction, and after Gerald she doesn't have it in her to sustain that kind of relationship, and it's all going downhill, and they're just making each other unhappy -- and it's just too, too, sad.
She found she didn't really want to know, and it shamed her.And
Despite the water she'd just had, her mouth was dry again, and the creeping sensation of guilt picked at her chest.
And
She said, "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to worry. I was--
And
"And you didn't trust me?"
"Should I?"
Minerva has enough guilt over Malcom's conception and what she did to Gerald. She doesn't need manufactured guilt because she's trying to avoid conflict with Alastor because he can't accept her choices. He's right too, about how very, very dangerous it is, but he's handling it all wrong, and he's so close to the edge psychologically that after dealing with Gerald and his father, she can't handle it in Alastor too, but she's the only thing keeping him grounded, tenuous as it is... It's hard to see him spiraling out of control. Thank goodness for Kingsley.
As always, you make me empathize with everyone. I wonder how well Minerva is handling it?
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
Yes, finally an update! I was sorry to do it with such a morose chapter, but them's the breaks.Yes, it's a guilt-and-misunderstanding fest all around.Thanks for reviewing!
Response from Squibstress (Author of A Slant-Told Tale)
Yes, finally an update! I was sorry to do it with such a morose chapter, but them's the breaks.Yes, it's a guilt-and-misunderstanding fest all around.Thanks for reviewing!
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