XXXI: Curiosity Piqued

XXXI: Curiosity Piqued

Minerva strode rapidly toward the Owlery. She was going to post her reply to Gertrude before she could change her mind. Her conversation with Poppy had convinced her that she should accept the invitation. Minerva's curiosity was piqued, and Poppy had agreed to send her an owl late on Tuesday, which Minerva could use as an excuse to leave early if she were having a dreadful time, by claiming a personal emergency that she had to return for. It was good to have friends like Poppy, Minerva thought. Although Poppy could sometimes be as cryptic as a Slytherin.

Fortunately, it seemed that Poppy had just been teasing her when she'd given her that broad smile and wink. Minerva had arrived in the infirmary prepared to disillusion her friend of any misconceptions she may have had, but found it unnecessary.

"Minerva! Thanks for stopping by – I thought we might talk in my sitting room." Poppy grinned. "You never know who might be standing outside the door here."

As they walked the short distance to Poppy's quarters, the two made small talk about lunch and who was still in the castle and when the Headmaster might decide to move the meals to the staff room. As soon as they reached her rooms and Poppy had closed the door behind them, she turned to Minerva with a smile.

"I was very happy to see that the two of you had cleared the air, Min. I was worried when neither of you appeared at dinner last night – I was afraid the meeting had gone badly and you'd both been too upset to come down to the Great Hall. But if you were having breakfast with him this morning, that seemed a good sign." She gestured to Minerva to have a seat.

"Yes, well, you see," said Minerva, hoping that Poppy didn't think that "good sign" meant that she and Albus hadn't parted company the night before, "we hadn't finished discussing the curriculum yesterday. We only got about half-way through, in fact. Oh, Poppy," she said with a smile, recalling Albus's efforts the evening before, "he was so sweet. He had set the meeting for late in the afternoon in hopes that I would stay and have dinner for him. He had it all planned – I was becoming upset, actually, because I had intended to apologise the moment I arrived, but every time I opened my mouth and tried to do that, Albus interrupted and brought the conversation back around to business."

Poppy smiled at her encouragingly.

"I accepted his invitation to dinner – although, the way he had extended it, it would have been difficult to refuse – and I resolved that as soon as he joined me in his sitting room, I would apologise. And Poppy, he's charmed his stairs to recognise me!" Minerva beamed as she remembered that detail.

"You see, Minerva – it was just an oversight on his part, not an attempt to show you any disrespect!" Poppy said, reminding her friend of her reassurances of the morning before.

"Yes, well, anyway, I washed my hands, and when I came out, the table was set, there was a beautiful bouquet of flowers on the table, and I still wasn't able to tell him how sorry I was. Albus poured us wine, made a toast, and started to apologise again. He was so sweet, Poppy. He had already apologised down in his office for not having charmed the stairs for me sooner; he repeated that apology, and then he asked that I forgive him for not making time for me. Poppy, Albus was so sincere, but I felt dreadful! All day I had been thinking of what I had said, of what he had overheard, and how I must have hurt him. And now he was apologising as though he had been the one who was wrong. I'm embarrassed to say that I burst into tears. The poor man didn't know why I was crying and thought he must have hurt my feelings. I explained that he kept apologising, but that I felt terrible about what I'd said and should be the one to ask his forgiveness. He dismissed it, Poppy! Albus said that he'd been surprised at what he'd overheard, but that he couldn't blame me. Then we sat together on his couch and waited for dinner. He told me about his morning and why he had been late – people make such demands on him at all hours, Poppy! You wouldn't believe!" Minerva shook her head at the thought.

"Anyway, by the time we had finished dinner, we were both too tired to discuss the curriculum so he suggested meeting early this morning," Minerva finished, hoping that Poppy drew the correct conclusion that they had both spent the night in their own rooms. It seemed she had little to worry about, though.

"I'm so glad, Minerva. I know I teased you a bit when I came up to your room this morning, but I really was just glad that you two seemed to be on good terms. But dinner, and then breakfast the next day, well, it seems to me that you may get your wish, after all, Minerva," Poppy said with a delighted smile.

"What do you mean, Poppy?" asked Minerva somewhat sharply.

"Just that you said yesterday that you wanted his respect, and you may remember that I had suggested that you might be looking for something more than his respect, that's all." Poppy stood and started toward her small kitchen. "Join me in some tea, Min? I thought the house-elves put a bit too much salt in the soup today."

"Yes, yes, fine. But what are you trying to say, Poppy?" Minerva hoped that she didn't have any ridiculous ideas – or had shared them with anyone else!

"Just that you two have known each other for a while, now," responded Poppy from the kitchen, "and it would be nice if you became better friends, that's all."

"Yes, well, you've known him almost as long, Poppy. The same could be said of you."

Poppy reappeared with the teapot, cups, and milk. "Technically true, I suppose," she said, pouring, "but I didn't have the contact with him that you have over the years." She handed Minerva her teacup. "You two have a lot in common, and you've always seemed to enjoy each other's company. It would be nice for both of you if you became . . . closer." Poppy took a sip of her own tea.

Closer? Minerva had detected the slight hesitation before Poppy had said that word. "Yes. I suppose we have some things in common. But that could be said of others, as well. He and Slughorn, for example – Potions. And of course, there's Gertrude." Minerva didn't make mention of what they might have in common.

"Yes, but as amiable as Professor Slughorn is, somehow I don't see him and Albus becoming close friends." Poppy smirked at that thought. "As you say, though, he and Gertrude have been friends for quite a while. She's a good friend to him, too."

Minerva ignored the slight twisting in her gut at Poppy's observation and sipped her tea. After all, she had been the one to have mentioned Gertrude in the first place.

"That reminds me, Poppy. I got the most peculiar invitation this morning."

"Really? Who from?"

"Gertrude."

"Gertrude? But I thought she was on holiday – at her family's estate, I believe."

"Exactly. That's one of the things that makes this invitation so odd. She has invited me to come and visit her for a few days next week."

"That is a bit unexpected, isn't it? You are going to accept, aren't you?" Poppy asked.

"I'm not sure, Poppy. I have the acceptance written and in my pocket, but once I send it, I won't be able to back out of it. Albus was there when it arrived. He read it for me and 'interpreted,' as he said, the Slytherin meanings contained in otherwise innocuous phrases. But I still don't know why she invited me. Albus said that Gertie thinks I need a holiday after my first term teaching."

"'Slytherin meanings'? Do tell, Minerva!"

"Well, Albus says that Gertrude is bored with her surroundings, for one, and that there will be several other guests – relatives of hers – there whom I won't like."

"Really? You must accept, Minerva! It should be interesting. And you can come back and tell me all about her dreadful relatives!" Poppy's eyes sparkled. "Besides, I'm sure there's a reason Gertrude is inviting you down – other than boredom and her obnoxious kin. You need to go and find out what it is."

"I'm not sure I'm up to dealing with a bunch of snooty purebloods, Poppy. You know my opinions on that. And even though all of my father's grandparents were magical, even if two were Muggle-born, you just know they are going to ask about the McGonagall name."

"You're as pureblooded as any of them, I'm sure. How many people don't have a Muggle or Muggle-born in their family tree? Precious few, I'll wager. Besides, the Egidius and Parnovon sides of your family tree are even more 'respectable,' and you're related to the Longbottoms and the Macmillans, as well, aren't you? And you know what they'd do if they learned your grandmother is a Tyree!" Poppy chuckled. The Tyree name was passed from mother-to-daughter as well as from father-to-daughter, and although a Tyree witch might use her husband's name in order to avoid confusing people outside the family, she never dropped the Tyree name. Tyree witches were notorious for marrying Muggle-borns, even the occasional Muggle, but no one – not even purebloods – ever dared fault them for it. Tyree wizards were more traditional in their choice of mates, but also less remarkable in other ways. At some point in the ancient past, Tyree witches had developed a reputation as fearsome and ruthless witches whom no one dared cross. Although Minerva had seen little evidence of ferocity and vindictiveness in her own Tyree relatives, the legend continued – making their lives a bit too easy, Minerva sometimes thought. Having a reputation, especially an unearned one, as a formidable duellist and patient avenger of wrongs committed against oneself or one's kin could lead to arrogance.

"Poppy, I am not going to get into a . . . a spitting contest with those snobs and start spouting off the names of all branches of my family that haven't had a Muggle in the line for more than four generations. And I am not a Tyree, except distantly, so there would be no point in mentioning that."

"Yes, but at least keep it in mind. You can just sit there smugly knowing you're right about the stupidity of pureblood ideology and that, on top of it, you've probably got a more 'impressive' genealogy than any of those snobs!" Poppy wiggled her fingers in the air as she said "impressive." Having more than a few Muggles in her own family tree, she was the last to subscribe to the pureblood ideology.

"I don't want to lend credence to any of their bigoted nonsense by even debating it. You know that. Albus says they're all Slytherins," she said, changing the topic somewhat. "I'm more concerned about that, actually."

"There may be people there whom you know, people from school or the Ministry. They can't all be bad, after all. And Gertrude turned out all right!" Poppy finished her tea and poured another cup, offering more to Minerva.

Accepting a fresh cup of tea, Minerva agreed. "Gertrude has always treated me fairly. That's true. But we've never been friends. I hardly exchanged two words with her after I left school, and we've certainly not become close since I've returned. I think she's up to something."

"I'm sure she is! That's why you have to go – to find out what," Poppy said. "I'm sure it'll be worth your while."

"Hmm. Perhaps."

"Besides, she's friends with Albus. She may just want to be friendly because of that."

"What do you mean?" There was that constriction in her gut again.

"You know. She knows you're friends with him, too. And she has known you for a while. She may just want to get to know you better . . . something like that." Poppy got up and fussed with the tea set. "You know, I think I'd like a biscuit. Would you?" Poppy hurried out to her kitchen and fetched a tin. Opening it, she offered it to Minerva. "Iced lemon shortbread."

Minerva took one. Not bad, she supposed. She thought about what Poppy had said. It made her uneasy.

"She had an opportunity to get to know me better this term. I never saw her make any effort."

"You were both busy." Poppy bit into her biscuit.

"True . . . Well, I think I will send off my letter, then. Otherwise, I'll always wonder what I missed." Minerva was sure that her curiosity would get her into trouble one day.

The two witches spoke a while longer, Minerva telling Poppy of her letter to Melina and the conclusions she had drawn from the research she had done for her. Poppy wanted to hear more about Minerva's breakfast meeting with the Headmaster, so Minerva gave her an abbreviated account, not going into any private details, and certainly not mentioning Albus's confessed fear. Nonetheless, Poppy reiterated her belief that Minerva and Albus now had the opportunity to "become closer," as she put it. Minerva had made the mistake of mentioning the bouquet that Albus had brought with him that morning.

"And the flowers! Minerva, that was a lovely gesture. That must be why he went down to the greenhouses with Johannes after lunch. He really does care for you, Minerva. You must see that now," she said.

"Of course he does. He was my Animagus teacher, after all. And as you said before, we've known each other for a long time. You were right yesterday; I was just a little insecure about my status now that I've come back to teach. But that's all. And it's over and done with."

Poppy looked at Minerva oddly for a moment before telling her that she really had to finish some work in the infirmary since she was leaving that weekend. Before Minerva left, Poppy offered to send her an owl on Tuesday evening, "just in case," and Minerva accepted gratefully. By Tuesday evening, Minerva should have discovered whatever plan it was that Gertrude had up her sleeve, anyway, and if the place was intolerable, she could make a gracious exit when she got Poppy's letter.

So now she was climbing up to the Owlery, which must have been cleaned recently, since she hardly slipped at all whilst crossing the floor and posting her letters. Minerva chose a particularly hearty-looking Horned Owl to deliver her reply to Cornwall and a smaller Screech Owl to bring Melina's letter to her in Edinburgh.

As she attached the letter to the Screech Owl's leg, Minerva reminded her, "If Melina is with a Muggle, don't deliver this to her. Just bring it to the Egidius Apothecary and leave it with someone there, all right?" At the owl's hooted assent (at least that's what Minerva hoped it was), Minerva released the bird and watched her fly off eastward. The larger owl had already disappeared to the south.

Now to stop by the Headmaster's office and take a look at Albus's list as she'd promised she would. Minerva doubted that she would have anything to add to it, but she would dutifully examine it and see if she could think of any other publications for his advertisement. Besides, she needed to pick up her curriculum materials. Minerva had been floating when she left his office the night before and had hardly thought of the original purpose of her visit. No wonder she had left her parchments and books behind.

As she approached the gargoyle, Minerva wondered whether Albus was in his office. He had said he might have to leave for a while – probably to go to the Ministry, she thought. She hoped he was there; she had just seen him a few hours ago, but she wouldn't mind seeing him again, even briefly. She remembered her own confession of that morning, and how she had told him that she had looked forward to every meeting and had been disappointed each time he had been late. Minerva hoped that hadn't been too revealing of her feelings. But it is natural for friends to look forward to seeing each other. And Albus himself had made the rather startling revelation that he had feared she had hated him. That possibility, as unlikely as it was, had clearly disturbed him. Minerva knew she should feel bad for having hurt him to that degree – and she did – but she also couldn't help feeling warmed by the affection it implied.

Reaching the top of the spiral stairs, Minerva used the griffin-shaped brass knocker. When there was no response, she opened the door and entered. Albus wasn't there, obviously, or he would have opened the door to her. His desk did look clearer of parchment, she thought. He had probably left the list on the desk for her, or possibly it was with her teaching materials. She'd just have to look for it – he must have put it somewhere it would be easy for her to find. Minerva stepped into the room and approached his desk when she looked up, startled by a sudden trilled song coming from above. Fawkes was perched on a high shelf near the portrait of Dilys Derwent.

Albus had a cheese and pickle sandwich and a cup of creamy leek soup as he finished reviewing the changes he had recommended be made to the International Wizarding Treaty on Extradition and Asylum before the Ministry agreed to ratify it. It would be best for him to bring it directly to the Ministry personally. He might not be able to meet with the Minister for International Magical Co-operation herself, but he could make amends for having cancelled their Floo-Conference yesterday by delivering the document in person. He had known Philomena Yaxley, née Flint, for most of his life, after all, and although Albus was sure that she knew of the situation he had been in a few years ago, she had had the grace never to allude to it in anyway, not even obliquely. Of course, she had been in Ravenclaw, not Slytherin, as most Flints were.

Before Albus left, he had to leave out the list and the advertisement copy for Minerva to find. Albus hoped he would be back before she came to look at it, but he might not be if Philomena could meet with him right away. He found the parchments in one of his desk drawers, where he had put them so they wouldn't become mixed in with his Ministry correspondence or other school business, and glanced at them briefly before taking a fresh parchment and composing a note for Minerva.

"Friday, 5 July

"Albus"

Albus placed the parchments in the cleared centre of his desk, his note on top. He then straightened the stacks of parchment on either side of the desk, picked up the portfolio in which he had placed his recommendations to Minister Yaxley, and departed via the Floo-Network for the Ministry.

If anyone with sharp eyes had been present in the minutes after the Headmaster had left his office, they might have noticed a rather peculiar draught that seemed to rise up from nowhere to ruffle the parchments on the Headmaster's desk. The three sheets sitting in the centre of it were wafted gently to the floor, where they came to rest only partially obscured by the furniture upon which they had once lain visible and unobstructed. Such a person might also have observed a similar soft breeze lightly disturbing the neat stack of parchments on the right side of the desktop, exposing the parchments that had been placed at the very bottom of the pile. There was no one there to observe, however, but Fawkes and some rather drowsy portraits, one of whom shook her head and muttered, "Foolish thing," before falling into an artful doze punctuated by the occasional counterfeit snore.

Twenty minutes later, Minerva, startled by the phoenix song, looked up to see former headmistress Dilys Derwent blinking at her sleepily. "Good-afternoon, Professor McGonagall."

"Good-afternoon, ma'am," replied Minerva. What was the etiquette for addressing the portraits of the former headmasters and headmistresses? She had never had one greet her before, not that she could remember. Deciding that returning the headmistress's greeting was sufficient, Minerva turned away. Her teaching materials lay on the table where she and Albus had been working the day before. As she stepped over to retrieve them, thinking that perhaps Albus had left the list of journals with her parchments, she was halted by the sound of Dilys Derwent's voice.

"I believe that the Headmaster left you something on his desk, Professor," the portrait called out to her.

"Thank you, ma'am. I was going to look there afterward." Quite helpful, these portraits. Although it might get annoying to have them constantly watching everything one did. She supposed that's why they slept, or pretended to, much of the time. Minerva was very glad that she and Albus had their dinner upstairs the night before. She wouldn't have wanted dozens of pairs of eyes watching her as she broke down in tears.

Minerva went over to the desk. Hmm, nothing obvious – it must be in one of the stacks of parchment, although she thought it odd that Albus would have wanted her to leaf through his other work in order to find it. Just as she was about to come around the desk to sit in the chair and begin to look through the parchments, two parchments that peeked out from beneath one of the stacks caught her eye. They seemed to be lists written in colourful ink, but they weren't what Minerva had expected the list of journals to look like. Curious, though, Minerva pulled the parchments out a bit more so she could take a better glance at them, just in case one of them was the list she was looking for.

Getting a better look at the first parchment, Minerva immediately perceived that it was not the list of journals. The second thing she saw was that the list had nothing to do with school business. She froze as she realised the subject of these lists. Reading it upside-down, she could see the headings, "Knowns" and "Possibles," and the first few items under each one. "She had an appointment with me at nine o'clock to discuss NEWT-level curriculum," "I suggested the appointment," and "she came up the stairs with Gertie (who found her caught at the password change)" were the first three items under "Knowns." "She has always disliked me or held me in contempt (okay, more an 'Unreasonable Fear' than a 'Possible')," "she has always respected me," and "she has always liked me" began the list under "Possibles." The first item under "Possibles" had been struck out in ink of a rather ugly dark orange.

Minerva felt peculiar – slightly guilty for looking at something that Albus had likely thought was safe from prying eyes at the bottom of a pile of Hogwarts forms, but also disturbed by the thought that he had made lists about their encounter yesterday morning. She knew Albus found lists an excellent way to organize his thoughts and solve problems, but was that all she was to him, an abstract problem to be solved? Swallowing her sense of guilt, Minerva pulled the sheet out from the stack just a little further. Now she could see the full list of what he had called "Knowns," although the remainder of the "Possibles" were still covered by other parchments.

Albus had made a list of everything he knew about their encounter that morning. Minerva shook her head as if to clear it. At the bottom of the list, though, there were a few entries that were unlike his earlier observations: "I want Minerva to stay at Hogwarts," "I respect her intellect and her character," and "I enjoy and appreciate her company" were the final items on his list of "Knowns."

Minerva hesitated, but her guilt and her respect for Albus won out over her curiosity, and she replaced the piece of parchment beneath the rest, just as she had found it, without reading anything more in the other list on that sheet; she didn't even glance at the second sheet. Minerva didn't know what to make of what she'd found, but it was best if she behaved as though she hadn't seen it at all. But where was the list he had left for her?

A voice came from across the room. "I believe that the parchments you are looking for were blown under the desk, dear."

Minerva turned and looked up at the portrait of the former headmistress. "You could have told me that earlier, you know."

"I suppose so, but you seemed so interested in what you were looking at," responded Derwent with a demure smile.

Minerva flushed. The portraits were bound to serve the Headmaster. If Albus asked – or maybe even if he didn't – the portraits would tell him that she had been looking through his papers! Minerva quickly went around the desk and immediately found the parchments that Albus had left for her. She looked back up at the portrait. "I hope that if you discuss this with the Headmaster, you will first make note of the fact that the parchments he left me were on the floor behind his desk when I arrived," Minerva said somewhat coolly.

"Of course I will, if he asks me," came the response.

Minerva shook her head. She could feel another headache coming on. Why had life become so complicated for her? Sighing, she looked at the note that Albus had left for her. It wasn't particularly personal, but he had said that he looked forward to seeing her. Minerva did as the note suggested and sat at his desk, only slightly distracted by the knowledge that the other list was by her right elbow and that a portrait might mention to Albus that she had seen it.

Concentrating on the matter that had brought her to the Headmaster's office to begin with, Minerva first read through the list of journals, then turned to the advertisement seeking a Care of Magical Creatures teacher.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the pre-eminent institution of magical learning in the British Isles, seeks a teacher for the Care of Magical Creatures class. Students range in age from 11 to 18. Applicant must be capable of presenting students with both lectures on the creatures covered by the curriculum and with practical exercises in handling and caring for select creatures. Applicant must have experience with creatures through the XXXXX rating and ability to handle ones through the XXXX rating for demonstration purposes. Practical experience may be substituted for academic credentials. Applicants should send curriculum vitae to Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Minerva thought for a moment, then at the bottom of the parchment, she wrote:

"Albus –

"After glancing at your list, I only have one other publication that you might wish to advertise in: Bestial Byways. I know it's a popular magazine, but if you're advertising that practical experience can be substituted for academic credentials, you might reach a few likely candidates that way."

Minerva hesitated a moment, then nodded to herself.

"By the way, when I came in to look for the list, it had fallen on the floor behind your desk. I didn't notice it immediately and inadvertently saw a few of your other parchments while I was searching for it. I apologise if I may have unintentionally looked at any confidential documents.

"Minerva"

There. It was awkward – and awkwardly phrased – but she didn't want him to think she had been snooping, even though she had, just a little. He might or might not guess what she had seen; if he asked, she would tell him. And now that Minerva was over her initial surprise at seeing the lists, they really didn't bother her. After all, from what she saw, they contained nothing that Albus hadn't already mentioned to her. It shouldn't be surprising to her that after he had heard what she said, he would try to figure out why she was upset, and his lists were typical "Albus." Minerva smiled slightly. It confirmed what he had said that morning about being afraid that she hated him – although he had crossed that entry out rather vehemently. And it demonstrated that Albus took her seriously and had spent quite a bit of time trying to work out why she had been so upset yesterday morning. He could have just asked her, of course. But would she have told him? Probably not; besides, he had probably been too stunned by the closing words of her tirade to feel he could come right out and ask. And they wouldn't have had that lovely dinner; everything would have continued as before, and she would have continued to feel she was insignificant in his life.

Minerva used a quick blotting charm on the wet ink, took the note he had written to her and put it in her pocket, and then arranged the other two parchments in the centre of Albus's desk, putting the inkpot on them so that they would not fall on the floor again. Before leaving the office, she picked up her own parchments and books. As she opened the door, Fawkes glided from the shelf to his perch, singing as he crossed the room. Dilys Derwent called out, "Good bye, Professor!" Minerva responded in kind and hoped that the headmistress had some sense of discretion. She was glad she had let Albus know that she had looked at other documents and why. It wouldn't look so much as though she had been snooping if Albus realised that she had seen the other lists he had made.