XXXIX: A Startling Revelation

PART EIGHT

XXXIX: A Startling Revelation

Minerva woke at six o'clock Monday morning. She had packed for her trip the day before, having made a quick trip to her parents' house to retrieve some dress robes; she was determined not to worry about how fashionable she appeared or whether she would be able to make conversation with Gertrude's visiting relatives. After all, she had attended many Ministry functions, and even a few Muggle black-tie affairs, when she lived in London, not to mention that during her apprenticeship in Germany, she had been escorted to a number of rather exclusive parties. It wasn't as though she were an inexperienced twenty-year-old. And really, how dreadful could those people be?

When Minerva had suggested to Albus the day before that he join her for breakfast, she thought she detected some hesitation before he agreed. She hoped that he wasn't beginning to twig to her feelings toward him. Just as she was about to withdraw her suggestion, Albus had smiled and accepted her invitation. He said he would come to her at seven o'clock, so she still had an hour yet.

After showering, Minerva selected a robe that she had brought with her from her parents' the day before. It wasn't a dress robe per se, but it was, she thought, too flamboyant for Hogwarts. A peculiar slate green, almost the colour of green lake water, the silk robe had a low sweetheart neckline and sleeves that fit closely to the arm until they reached elbow, where they opened into an expansive, wing-like, asymmetrical bell. Silvery-grey embroidery stitched a complex pattern of spirals and waves over the lower half of the sleeves, which was echoed around the neckline and hem. The skirts of the robe consisted of yards and yards of gathered fabric which whished lightly as she walked. Definitely too much for Hogwarts. But she would look respectable enough at the Gamps, she was fairly certain.

Rather than putting her hair in a bun, Minerva took a pair of inlaid hair clips that had been a gift from her mother and drew back the hair from the sides of her face. She then coiled the length of her hair into a roll, exposing her neck. She used a charm, as well as a few hairpins, to hold it in place. Minerva wasn't sure she liked it; she had seen a similar style in a Muggle magazine the summer before. The woman in the photograph had looked sophisticated and sultry. Minerva didn't think she could ever pull off sophisticated and sultry, but she really didn't want to arrive at the Gamps' looking like a schoolteacher, either – even though she was one. Minerva sighed, regretting for about the hundredth time having accepted Gertrude's invitation. And Poppy wasn't even here to ask her opinion, having left for her holiday the day before.

Hoping to achieve at least a modicum of sophistication, Minerva cast a charm to enhance the natural colour of her lips, then, after a slight hesitation, applied a rouging charm to her cheeks. Deciding she looked like a Muggle clown, she reduced the colour in her cheeks until it resembled a healthy glow rather than great red blotches. The woman in the photograph had a curled-under fringe, but Minerva, unaccustomed to using such charms, feared that she would create a fringe only to be unable to reverse it without going to a Diagon Alley hairdresser. Before she had begun seeing Brennan, Melina had often used such charms; perhaps when Minerva returned from Cornwall, she would visit Melina and ask her to show her a few more useful ones.

Minerva hadn't heard from Melina yet, but she had only owled her the morning before about meeting with Brennan on the twentieth. Melina's owl would find her in Cornwall, Minerva supposed, provided she used a hearty Post-Owl rather than her aging Tawny, Bootsie – which had a rather disagreeable disposition, in any event. Minerva didn't think Bootsie had ever delivered a letter without also delivering an unwanted scratch or bite along with it. Of course, if she had been named "Bootsie," Minerva thought, she might have been equally ill-natured.

After straightening her bedroom, although it didn't need it, and placing her luggage on her bed, Minerva went into her sitting room and perused her book shelves, looking for something to bring with her to read in the evenings. She had packed the most recent copy of Transfiguration Today, but she might be in the mood for something lighter. Minerva smiled. Something Muggle, in fact. The idea of bringing a Muggle novel into a bastion of pureblood superiority appealed to her. Melina had recently sent her a copy of a new book by some Russian-American Muggle named Nabokov. Melina claimed it was quite funny, yet sad. Where was it – there. Pnin. Peculiar title, though. And apparently quite filled with modern Muggle notions, from what Melina had told her. Just the ticket for this holiday. Minerva hesitated. She wasn't entirely sure how prepared she was for "modern Muggle notions," herself. Better bring something else along, as well, just in case it proved too abstruse for bedtime reading. She plucked an Agatha Christie from her shelf. Not high literature, perhaps, but it wouldn't keep her up all night reading, either.

Just as she was placing the two books on top of her carpet bag, she heard a clattering and barking coming from the other room. The Silent Knight and his dog – "Fidelio," Minerva had learned yesterday, was the hound's name, not, the Knight emphasised, "Fido" – and Minerva ran out to answer the door. A smiling Dumbledore greeted her cheerily and handed her a small wrapped parcel. "For later, my dear," he said.

"Thank you, Albus! What is it? You really didn't need to . . ."

"Of course I didn't – that's why it's a surprise! Open it this evening before you retire – no peeking before then!"

"All right," she laughed. "I'll try to restrain my curiosity until then. And it will be nice to have something pleasant to look forward to – I'm rather nervous about what other surprises may be awaiting me today."

"It's just a little something, my dear. But may I say you look particularly lovely this morning; I am certain you will be the most beautiful witch at the Gamp Estate today, so I hope that is not one of your concerns."

"Thank you, Albus." Minerva worked to suppress her blush, with only partial success. "I wasn't sure. I was wishing Poppy were here, earlier; I wasn't sure about the hair, the dress, or, well, any of it," she said, not wanting to mention her lack of practice with make-up charms.

"Your hair is always lovely, Minerva, and those . . . hair things are very nice." Albus stopped, not sure whether he was saying the right thing or not.

Apparently he was, however, since Minerva brightened and said, "Do you like the hair clips, then? They were a present, but I rarely wear them. I wasn't sure if they were appropriate or not." She hesitated. Albus was probably no expert on witches' fashions, but he had no doubt socialised with the likes of the Gamps for many years. "I also wasn't sure about the dress; it's not new –"

"It is most becoming on you, Minerva. It makes me feel quite guilty that I brought you to Hogwarts where you wear teaching robes almost ten months out of the year. You should not feel out of place in it, I believe – not to mention that it brings out the colour of your eyes."

Minerva smiled. "Thank you, Albus. You probably think I'm foolish to be nervous."

"I am afraid that might also be my fault," he answered with a smile, "isolating you here at Hogwarts when you should be in London, spending your free time . . . doing whatever it is that young witches do. I am certain that you had many beaus who are now pining for your company," he joked.

Minerva laughed. "Not at all, Albus. Obviously, my life in London was quite different from what it is here at Hogwarts, but nothing like what you are suggesting."

She chuckled at the image of her that Albus was presenting – as though she had been some kind of sought-after heartbreaker. She had dated now and again, but nothing serious since she had returned from her apprenticeship almost eight years ago, and she certainly had never been as popular among the wizards as Albus seemed to think. Minerva suspected that word had got around that she was "independent" and not looking for a relationship – not to mention that she put off any physical intimacies with every wizard she had dated. She had probably got the reputation, at best, of being cold, at worst, of leading men on. It was nice that Albus thought she might have been popular, though. Quite sweet of him. Of course, had he been one of the wizards seeking her attentions in London, it would have been quite a different story . . . Minerva quashed that thought firmly. Albus would certainly have been interested in a more mature, more interesting, and more sophisticated witch than she.

She excused herself for a moment, and after safely putting Albus's present in her carpet bag, Minerva called Blampa to serve breakfast. She was glad that Albus had agreed to join her that morning; it kept her from becoming more nervous about her upcoming trip. She really wasn't sure why she should be so apprehensive about it; as Minerva had told herself before, it wasn't as though she were a complete social novice. And she had certainly dealt with many difficult people before, so Gertrude's relatives shouldn't pose too much of a problem for her. No, it had more to do with her uneasiness with the invitation itself. Gertrude's motivations were still opaque to her. All the more reason to go, she reminded herself.

Time passed quickly as Albus and Minerva ate breakfast and talked. He had owled the advertisements to the publishers, so he anticipated that they would begin receiving responses soon, although it would be a few weeks before each of the journals had published their next issue, so they would probably continue to trickle in for some time. Minerva promised that as soon as they began receiving owls from applicants for the Care of Magical Creatures position, she would start reviewing them and sending out acknowledgements right away. Better to keep up with it from the start, she thought, although they could wait to make any decisions about who to consider.

Minerva sighed when she realised that it was ten minutes to eight. She really would prefer to stay at the castle with Albus . . . not that he would necessarily have any time for her, but she could see him at meals. As much as Minerva was determined to mask her feelings for him, the more time she spent with him, the more time she wanted to spend with him. It was probably a good thing for her to get away for a few days.

"Well, my dear, it is almost time for your Portkey. I suppose you will want me to leave so that you can gather your things."

"No need for that, Albus. I am all packed. I just need to stow my books in my bag, and I can be off. The Portkey is active for a half hour, so there's no real hurry." Minerva thought of something.

"Have you been to the Gamps before, Albus? The reason I ask is that I was wondering where I'd be likely Portkeying to."

"Ah, yes, I have. You will most likely arrive in their small vestibule which has been designated for such purposes, although you may also arrive in front of the house, on their drive."

"All right, then. So I'll be prepared to find myself either in a small, closed space or outdoors!" She smiled. "I'm sure I will manage." Minerva hesitated. She really was loathe to say good-bye to him this morning, and despite his words, Albus had made no move to rise from the table. "If you'd like, if you have the time and don't mind, I would be happy if you saw me off. You don't have to, of course," she added hastily.

But Albus smiled and said, "I would love to, my dear."

"I'll just fetch my bag, then."

"You can Portkey from within your rooms, Minerva; no need to fetch it . . . unless you wish to. I can, of course, see myself out. Unless you would prefer not to, of course, in which case, we can just step outside your door together."

"No, I had planned to Portkey from here. I'm sure you can be trusted, Albus!" she laughed. "In fact, if you would like to borrow any of my books, please feel free to. I doubt I have any scholarly texts that you don't already own, but I do have some literature, which you may enjoy."

"I may peruse your shelves, then, although I confess I have little time for pleasure reading."

"It's important that you find time to relax occasionally, Albus, or you'll wear yourself out!"

"Very well, Mother McGonagall, I will find a nice novel and take your advice," he replied with a grin.

"Well, I suppose there's no point in putting this off any longer. Blampa will take care of the breakfast dishes after we've left." Minerva got up and Albus followed her into her bedroom.

He smiled as he saw her tuck her books into her bag. "It is good to see you follow your own advice, then, regarding reading material."

"Yes, although I did pack Transfiguration Today, as well." Minerva closed up her bag and turned to face him.

"If I wish to return a book in your absence, may I let myself in?" Albus asked, then added quickly when he saw the expression on Minerva's face, "That was rude of me. I am sorry, my dear. Just another symptom of my feeling comfortable with you."

"No, not at all, Albus. And of course you may let yourself in. I am glad you feel so comfortable with me . . . and after all, you have charmed your stairs to recognise me." Despite herself, Minerva blushed. "It's just that my password . . ."

"You needn't share it with me, Minerva. I was far too presumptuous."

"No, it's not that. And I'm sure that, as Headmaster, you could gain access to any rooms in Hogwarts without needing a password."

"I don't, though. Except perhaps in an emergency." Albus hastily, apparently eager to reassure her of that fact.

"I wasn't suggesting you wander about the castle entering others' private quarters, Albus," Minerva said with a chuckle. "For one thing, you are far too busy! No, that is not my concern, it's just that my password is a bit silly. Just slightly embarrassing. That's all."

"More embarrassing than 'Chocolate Frog' or 'Peppermint Imp'?" he asked, smiling.

"I happened to be thinking of you at the time." Minerva took a deep breath. "It's 'alvarium album.'"

"Hmm. Not 'apiarus albus'?" he asked with a smile, reminding her of his nom de plume.

"No," Minerva's blush deepened. "That would have been even more embarrassing, I'm afraid."

"Don't be embarrassed, Minerva. It's rather flattering, actually."

Minerva noticed that Albus seemed to be blushing slightly, himself. She said, "I hadn't thought I'd be sharing it with anyone . . . If it's inappropriate –"

"Flattering, not inappropriate," Albus answered. He smiled happily at her. "Now, you do not wish to miss your Portkey!"

"No, no, of course." Minerva picked up her carpet bag and the Portkey with her left hand. "I will see you in a few days, Albus. Feel free to borrow any books you like, in the meantime." She raised her hand for him to shake, and was momentarily surprised when he took it in his left hand instead of his right. He stepped closer to her and placed his other hand on her arm.

"I hope that you enjoy your trip, Minerva, or that you will at least find it interesting. I look forward to hearing all about it on your return." Albus leaned toward her and kissed her cheek gently. He drew away, releasing her hand and stepping back.

Minerva let out a breath she hadn't known she had been holding. Albus was smiling at her, his cheeks still slightly pink from his earlier blush of embarrassment. She remembered herself and returned his smile. "I will look forward to telling you about it, then." Wishing she wasn't leaving, Minerva concentrated on the green ribbon in her hand and said, "Ducere."

The familiar and unpleasant sensation of Portkeying overtook her, and within seconds, she found herself looking at a face quite different from Albus's. She had apparently been deposited in the vestibule, as Albus had said she might, and there was an old grey house-elf with great, hairy ears waiting for her. When Minerva appeared, he hopped off the bench and bowed low, his ears sweeping the floor.

"Krantzy is happy to be welcoming the Professor McGonagall of Hogwarts to the Noble House of Gamp. May Krantzy serve and assist the Professor McGonagall with her bag?" the elf asked, his eyes fixed on the hem of Minerva's dress.

"Yes, thank you, Krantzy."

"Oh, Krantzy not be thanked! No no. Brue will bring the Professor McGonagall to see Madam Gamp, yes, and Krantzy bring bag to the Professor McGonagall's room. Yes?"

"Um, yes," Minerva replied, wondering whether "Madam Gamp" was Gertrude, her mother, or some other household matriarch. The house-elf popped away with the carpet bag, never having looked up at Minerva's face. Almost immediately, he was replaced by another house-elf, a younger one, from the look of it. He – Minerva believed it was a "he" – was wearing two tea towels tied together at the shoulder, belted with what looked like an old curtain tie-back.

The elf glanced very quickly at Minerva's face before bowing low. His ears were much smaller than Krantzy's were, and so did not reach the floor, but his long nose touched his toes. "Brue brings the Madam Professor to Madam Gamp now," he squeaked, his statement sounding more like a question.

"That would be fine, Brue," Minerva said, carefully not thanking the elf. She followed the small, bluish fellow out of the vestibule into a large entrance hall, past a grand staircase, and a short way down an open corridor to a set of white double doors. Brue flicked a forefinger at them and the left-hand door opened to reveal a large, bright room with a high ceiling and many windows. Minerva didn't have the opportunity to look around much, however, because the house-elf led her through the room to a set of French doors that opened out onto a terrace.

Brue bowed and indicated that Minerva should precede him through the doors. As soon as she had passed through them, there were two cracks in quick succession. Brue was now standing beside a chaise on which a witch was reclining and reading the Daily Prophet.

Brue bowed deeply. "The Professor McGonagall of Hogwarts School," he announced in his high-pitched voice, then, with another crack, he was gone.

The witch turned her head and stood. Minerva saw that it was, indeed, Gertrude; she hadn't immediately recognised her because of the large-brimmed, woven hat that she was wearing – and the fact that, rather than her usual school attire, Gertrude was wearing a fine, pale blue robe with three-quarter sleeves. Minerva felt foolish for assuming that Gertrude would wear the same drab and unadorned robes as she did at school.

Gertrude smiled. "Welcome, Minerva. No problems with the Portkey, I trust?"

"It was a very smooth arrival, Gertrude, thank you."

"I was just having some coffee, but I haven't eaten yet. I was hoping you might join me." She indicated the round table a few feet away, set for two.

"I ate something before I left, but I would be happy to have some tea," Minerva replied.

Gertrude snapped her fingers and another house-elf appeared.

"Shirfy is happy to serve," squealed the elf with a curtsy.

"Good, Shirfy. I'll be having breakfast now, and bring tea for our guest."

The two witches sat, and Minerva felt at quite a loss for words. She looked out at the view afforded by the veranda, which was slightly higher than the surrounding garden. "What a lovely garden," she offered, glad she had found something to say. It truly was a lovely garden, as well.

"It is one of the pleasant aspects of the estate," Gertrude said, nodding. "After breakfast, we can take a walk in the garden. And later this afternoon, if you like, we might change clothes and have a bit of a tramp." Gertrude took a sip of her tea. "There are some interesting features. Standing stones and such. We also have a rather nice hill fort. Not fully intact, of course, but hasn't been trampled by a lot of Muggles grubbing about for building materials or artifacts. Our Muggle-Repelling wards are among the most extensive in Britain. Grandfathered in when the Ministry began regulating such things more tightly."

Minerva wasn't quite sure what to say to this information, and so was quite pleased when Shirfy reappeared with their breakfast. Despite having had breakfast already, Gertrude encouraged her to try some of the cheese and the fresh rolls.

"The cheese is local. I prefer this sort of breakfast. Bread, cheese, fruit. Something I miss."

"I'm sure you could ask for this kind of breakfast at Hogwarts. The elves, I've found, are fairly agreeable in accommodating one's preferences."

Gertrude gave a short, barked laugh. "Yes, they are. And during the summer, or whenever I take breakfast in my rooms, I do that. But it isn't concern for the house-elves' inconvenience that keeps me eating the same cold toast and egg every morning."

"You . . . want to eat what the rest of the staff is eating?"

"Mmm. Although I draw the line at porridge. Forced too much of it down my throat as a child," she said with a grin.

Minerva, who had become accustomed to eating bread and cheese for breakfast when she apprenticed in Germany and had come to like it, herself, pulled a crusty roll apart and closed it around some pale yellow cheese. The two witches ate in silence, but Minerva was pleased to find that she no longer felt as uncomfortable. After finishing her roll and taking a sip of tea, Minerva looked out over the garden and could see where the carefully-groomed acreage ended and the rougher, wilder lands began.

"I would enjoy a walk this afternoon, I think. When I visit my parents' home, I take walks every day, usually along the cliffs and, sometimes, even down to the shore to walk beside the sea . . ."

"Not something you could do in London. You lived there a number of years, didn't you?"

"Yes, but there are wonderful parks in London. On a Sunday, I would sometimes take a book and go sit in one of the parks, but I rarely read much. I would watch the people go by, mostly." She smiled crookedly. "Anyway, I enjoyed taking walks in the parks there, although it is, of course, very different from walking out in the country."

"Did you spend a lot of time in Muggle London, then?"

"Some. Quite a bit, I suppose. Life would have been rather dull if I had confined myself to the Ministry and Diagon Alley, after all." Minerva wondered whether Gertrude's question had been a veiled criticism of her enjoying what Muggle London had to offer. It was not an attitude that she had observed in Gertrude before, but they had never really spoken of anything that was not school-related, either. Minerva found it hard to believe that someone who disliked Muggles could be very close to Albus, though, since he was well-known to appreciate Muggles and harbour no prejudices against them. And Albus seemed to . . . like Gertrude, as well.

"Yes, I suppose it could be, particularly when you're young and energetic. I haven't lived in a Muggle city for so long, I have forgotten what it's like."

"You lived in a Muggle city?"

"Mmm-hm. More than one. Not at the same time, of course," Gertrude responded with a crooked smile. "I spent several years in Berlin during the twenties. And when I was first married, we lived in York, which, while not a large city, is quite definitely Muggle."

Minerva almost choked on her tea, but recovered quickly. "You were married? I'm sorry if I am rude to ask, but I didn't know, and your name –"

"It's not just Scottish witches who may prefer to keep their family name, you know," Gertrude said mildly. "Although I was flexible – I answered to 'Gertrude Crouch' if someone wished to call me that."

"And, if I might ask, what happened?"

"Killed. By Grindelwald. Early. One of his first British victims. One of his first victims at all, actually." Gertrude held her coffee cup in front of her and gazed out over the gardens.

Minerva now felt as though she had trespassed where she had no right to be. "I'm sorry . . ."

"Hmm?" Gertrude looked over at her, slightly bemused. "Oh, it's a long time ago now. Reginald was a Gryffindor and he never disappointed me." Her cheek twitched. "I don't suppose I could have expected him to live a nice quiet life, get ahead in the world, survive to dandle grandchildren on his knee, and what not. I am proud to say, however, that he was one of the earliest to realise the danger Grindelwald presented and to oppose him, and that Grindelwald perceived him to be such a threat that he took the first opportunity to kill him."

Minerva sat, somewhat overwhelmed by these revelations. Since Gertrude seemed to be so forthcoming, she asked, "That was before you came to Hogwarts?"

"Yes, a few years before, in fact. Albus was . . . supportive. And when he asked me to come to the school to teach Arithmancy and to help him with the wards, it didn't seem as though there was anything better I could be doing. So I joined him at Hogwarts." She finished her coffee and stood. "You know, I think I feel rather like having that tramp this morning. Do you mind leaving the civilised garden stroll for later in the day and joining me now?"

"No, that would be fine." Minerva looked down at her voluminous skirts. She really didn't want to Transfigure them. She thought that clothes wore out more quickly if you Transfigured them every time you turned around, and so generally restricted herself to simple colour charms when she felt the urge to alter something.

"Good. I will show you to your room myself, then, and we can change into something more suitable."

Gertrude led Minerva through the large house, up the grand staircase, and along a hallway to the room she would be staying in. The bright, comfortably furnished room had east-facing windows. A large four-poster bed was against one wall, but in no way could it be said to dominate the large room, and there was a small sitting area across from a fireplace. There was an inlaid screen in one corner that concealed a washbasin and marble-topped vanity.

"You can wash up here, as there's hot and cold running water. I'll show you where the toilet and the bath are before I go to change. The house-elves have no doubt unpacked for you and hung your clothes in the wardrobe."

Minerva was not particularly pleased with the idea of the Gamp house-elves unpacking her bag. She hoped they hadn't done anything odd with Albus's present – or unwrapped it! That thought reminded her, however, that she had brought a bottle of very old Scotch whisky with her as a gift for Gertrude. She had no idea if Gertrude drank whisky – or if she might even be offended by receiving something so Muggle in origin – but her father had given it to her when she had come by the house the day before to retrieve her dress robes, and he had assured her that it would be most appropriate, and if it wasn't appreciated, it was a sure sign her hosts had no taste whatsoever.

"Just a moment, Gertrude. I have something for you, if I can find it." Minerva took a look and found that, although her clothes had been unpacked, the house-elves had left everything else in her carpet bag, which was on the floor of the wardrobe. She pulled out the bottle of whisky. "Not a very ceremonious presentation, I'm afraid, Gertrude, but I thought you might like this."

Gertrude took the bottle of Scotch whisky and read the label closely over her lowered glasses. Smiling, she pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. "This looks quite nice, thank you, Minerva. I will offer it around after dinner, I believe. Which reminds me, there are a few other guests here at the moment, and more to arrive later today and tomorrow, so you may run into a few. If they haven't the good manners to introduce themselves, don't let it bother you. Just ignore them or introduce yourself, whatever you wish."

After Gertrude had shown her the bathroom and toilet, she said, "I'm one floor above you, in this same wing of the house. If you need me, you can call Brue, and he will find me, or you can just wander up there. Third door on your left." She turned to leave, then stopped. "Oh, I often prefer to wear trousers when out for a hike, much to the horror of my family." She grinned. "I'm afraid I'm rather scandalous. Anyway, if you'd like to borrow some trousers, you could Transfigure them to fit you. I'll send a pair down with Brue." With that, Gertrude left Minerva standing outside the bedroom door. Trousers?

Minerva returned to the bedroom, wondering what the etiquette was in refusing the offer of an article of clothing. Her father hated trousers and, if he had to be out amongst Muggles, would sometimes even don a kilt in order to avoid them – although he always said he didn't have the knees for them, not to mention that he felt chilly. Murdoch and Morgan often wore trousers, since they lived in such close proximity to the Muggle world, and once they had left school, Carson had worn trousers every day. He said he had grown up wearing them and that he actually preferred them to robes. Minerva, however, had never worn a pair of trousers in her life. She knew that some Muggle women were increasingly beginning to wear them, and Minerva supposed that for some types of Muggle work, trousers were more practical than skirts, but she simply couldn't imagine wearing them herself. When she went for her walks, she always just shortened her robes a bit and made sure she was wearing stout shoes.

As she was standing in the centre of the bedroom pondering the peculiarity of witches in trousers, Brue popped in, a neatly folded article of clothing hovering above his head, no doubt the trousers that Gertrude had promised her. Minerva reached out and mechanically took them from the elf. Without a word, Brue popped away again.

Minerva held up the trousers, shaking out the folds. Unremarkable. Brown. Two legs. An opening at the top. Buttons. Belt loops. Perfectly ordinary. Completely impossible. No, Minerva just couldn't imagine herself wearing such a garment. On the other hand, who knew what kind of "tramp" Gertrude had in mind? She hesitated. Sometimes when scrambling along the cliffs, she had had to split her skirts with a charm in order to give herself enough room to move about and not get caught or trip. Of course, there was usually no one with her to see her half-naked legs. These trousers would at least cover her completely.

Minerva undressed, carefully hanging her robe in the wardrobe. She found a pale blue robe that buttoned up the front and, with a slight grimace at the violence she was about to do, cast a severing charm, removing the skirts. Another quick charm, and her new blouse had a hem. With some trepidation, Minerva put on the top, exchanged her stockings for a pair of woolen socks, and then stepped into the trousers. They were too long and too big through the middle. Minerva removed them and Transfigured them to fit her. After trying them again and deciding that they fit, she pulled on a pair of dragon-hide boots.

She uneasily turned to look in the mirror and was surprised to find that she didn't look as outlandish as she felt. Although she would have to do something about her hair. Sighing, thinking of the effort she'd taken with it, Minerva removed the hairclips and hair pins and ended the charm holding her hair in its coil. She shook it out, brushed it, and charmed it into a braid before pinning it into her usual bun.

Minerva took a few minutes to use the loo, then went back to the bedroom to wait for Gertie. She hoped that they didn't meet anyone on their way out of the house. This was not the first impression she wanted Gertrude's relatives to have of her. She began to worry that Gertrude had only sent her the trousers to see if she would be fool enough to actually wear them, and she was just about to change out of them into a more sensible robe when there was a knock at the door.

"Minerva? Ready to go?"

Minerva sighed. Too late now. She opened the door to find Gertie standing there dressed in dark grey trousers and a white blouse, her hat in her hand. "Good, you decided to try them. I wasn't sure. Most witches look at me like I have two heads when I offer to loan them a pair of trousers. Hoped you wouldn't be typical. Need a hat?"

Minerva had only brought her peaked dress hat, and she doubted that would be appropriate for wearing with her current outfit, but she shook her head. Who knew what kind of hat Gertrude would offer her, after all?

They left the house, and Minerva could hear plummy voices coming from one of the rooms as they passed by, but they met no one on their way out. Minerva felt strangely naked in the trousers and took short steps; she had no idea how Gertie could walk about in them so freely.

As they crossed the lawn, Gertrude looked over at her and gave her another of her half-grins.

"You usually stride along so confidently, Minerva. It's even easier to do that in trousers. Come along." Gertrude picked up her pace, forcing Minerva to lengthen her stride in order to keep up with her.

As they walked, Minerva became more comfortable and realised it was rather liberating to be wearing the somewhat close-fitting trousers. Gertrude pointed out various landmarks of interest, and Minerva could see the remains of a hill fort in the distance. The land on which the Gamp Estate sat was gently undulating for the most part, but the hill fort sat up on a higher hill with steep sides.

"It seems that the people who built the original fort first enhanced the hill, building it up, making it both higher and steeper. From the west, the rise is gentler and the ditches more degraded with time, but I always prefer this approach."

Gertrude went on to explain that the hill fort had originally been constructed approximately two thousand years before, and reused on and off by succeeding generations until it was abandoned during the Roman occupation of Britain. The main portion that was now visible had been rebuilt during the sixth century and expanded to include an animal enclosure on the west side. The ditches they were now clambering through had once been deeper, with steep walls, and were meant to provide another layer of defence before one reached the fort's first stone wall.

After climbing through two ditches and the remains of the hill fort's two outer walls, the witches finally reached the top of the hill and the main structure. Much of the fort wall was still whole, rising to over thirty feet in height at some points. Gertie led Minerva over some fallen rock and into the fort itself. "Careful here. There are steps, but they aren't completely intact. You'll have to do some scrambling."

Minerva followed Gertie up the ancient stone stairs that hugged the eastern wall. She could tell even more clearly now that the main fort had consisted of a circular stone tower. They reached the top, and Gertrude pulled herself to the top of the broad wall and proceeded to walk confidently a few more feet before she sat and dangled her legs over the edge. "You won't find the likes of this anywhere else, I'd imagine." She grinned. "Of course, I haven't tried to, either. One castle is enough for me," she joked.

Minerva, despite a childhood spent clambering about the rocky cliffs near her home, was less comfortable with the idea of climbing up onto the broken wall. After a moment's hesitation, during which she reminded herself, first, that she was a Gryffindor and a McGonagall and, second, that it was unlikely that the Deputy Headmistress would want to have to tell Dumbledore that she'd got his new Transfiguration teacher killed, Minerva took a deep breath, grasped the edge of the wall, scrambled a bit, then pulled herself up. Feeling less confident than Gertrude, who was, after all, familiar with the site, Minerva declined to stand, instead transforming herself to her Tabby form to walk over and join the other witch. She sat and looked out. It truly was a magnificent view. Glancing slightly to her right, Minerva could see the Gamp house, megaliths dotting the landscape between the cultivated lawn and the hill fort. With a slight pop, she returned to her ordinary form.

"This is quite a view. Do you come here often – when you are home, I mean."

Gertrude gazed out over the rolling countryside. "Not as much as I used to. I thought you might like it."

The two sat in silence for a while, legs dangling over the edge of the stone wall. Minerva glanced surreptitiously over at the older teacher. Gertrude looked quite relaxed, her hat pushed back slightly on her head as she surveyed the landscape before her. She certainly was not the one-dimensional witch Minerva had always perceived her to be. She still did not know why Gertie had invited her to come to Cornwall, though. It couldn't have been simply to share the view from the top of her "castle." For someone like Albus, that might have been reason enough, but not for a witch like Gertrude, who, despite some of her idiosyncrasies, was still a Slytherin, Minerva reminded herself.

The thought of Albus distracted Minerva from her musings about Gertrude's motivations. Remembering his gentle kiss before she Portkeyed away, Minerva's heart rate increased. It was just a friendly kiss on the cheek, but it had been so very sweet, all the more so for being unexpected. Minerva flushed with the memory of her hand in his, his breath on her face, his lips on her skin . . . Minerva blinked. It had been a friendly kiss, that was all. Nothing more. Minerva stole a glance at Gertrude; the older witch was sitting there looking out at the scenery, a contemplative expression on her face.

Minerva looked down at her legs encased in the borrowed trousers. She had gone to considerable trouble to make a good first impression on Gertrude's relatives, and now they would likely meet her while she was dressed like an American hillbilly. Not that she had any idea how a hillbilly dressed, but she did know that she certainly wasn't looking particularly respectable at the moment. She smiled slightly. At least she had made a good impression on Albus; he had liked her "hair things." She wanted to laugh, thinking of it now, but Gertrude would think she had lost her senses. Which she no doubt had: she was sitting thirty feet up on a stone wall, wearing trousers, and trying not to daydream of a wizard who was far beyond her reach, not to mention that he was over three times her age. Albus surely looked upon her as a granddaughter and would be appalled if he had an inkling that her feelings went the direction they did.

Minerva sighed as she reminded herself, for the thousandth time, at least, of the cold, hard reality of her situation. Even if he didn't look upon her as a granddaughter, there was very little likelihood that he could ever return her feelings . . . It would never occur to Albus to view her in that way, Minerva was sure. He had known her since she was twelve, after all. It's not as though he would wake up one day, take a look at her, and think that she was an attractive witch whom he might like to see socially – perhaps even to court her, or however he might think of dating.

Minerva took a deep breath and sat up straighter. Were they just going to sit here the rest of the morning? They hadn't been there that long, actually, but Minerva was growing slightly uncomfortable on the cold stone. Gertrude looked serene, however, and unlikely to move any time soon.

"Would you mind if I got down, explored a little?" Minerva asked. "I thought perhaps in my Animagus form, if that's all right with you."

Gertrude turned her head and nodded. "Be careful, though. The stone blocks may look secure, but they do sometimes fall or shift. If you end up somewhere you can't get out of . . . well, I suppose I'll find you." She turned back to her silent contemplation of the green vista before her.

After that remark, Minerva wondered whether exploring on her own was such a good idea after all, but not wanting to sit still any longer, she cautiously stood and walked along the wall back to the broken stair. Now that she had been sitting up there for a while, it didn't seem as precarious. She sat and lowered her legs over the edge and slid down to the first step. Deciding to wait till she had reached the bottom to transform, she carefully climbed back down the stairs. With a whisper of a pop, Minerva Transfigured into her Tabby form and began to explore the rock-strewn floor of the hill fort. After she had satisfied her curiosity there, she climbed back out over a broken spot in the wall.

She was looking south now; the Gamp house was to the east. Minerva could still see standing stones peppering the landscape below. She leapt on top of a large stone that must have fallen from the tower many years ago, and lay down on the sun-warmed rock. Placing her head on her paws, her mind turned again to Albus. She recognised that she should not think about him so much. It wasn't healthy. She simply could not help it, though. Minerva stretched her legs and flipped her tail over them. Eyes half-open, she watched some birds swoop and land on some rocks nearby, then fly away again. Her human thoughts predominate that morning, she felt very little urge to chase after them.

Gertie had certainly made some remarkable disclosures over breakfast. Minerva had never dreamed that Gertrude had ever been married. She was aware of other of her former teachers who had been married – even to each other, although that was not supposed to be general knowledge – but it never would have occurred to Minerva that Gertie ever would have married. Gertrude's life, as far as Minerva had ever been able to tell, consisted of Hogwarts and Dumbledore, with occasional visits to Cornwall. She had said that Albus had been supportive of her. Minerva inferred from the way she had said it that he had been helpful to her after her husband had been killed by Grindelwald. One of his first victims, she had said. That must have made it the late twenties or early thirties, Minerva supposed. Gertrude had been a widow for twenty-five or thirty years, then. And had spent almost the last twenty of them at Hogwarts. With Albus. Because he had asked her to come. He, not Dippet.

Minerva blinked slowly and curled a paw under her chin. That was the part about Gertrude Gamp that had always disturbed her, she realised. Gertrude had an easy, open relationship with Albus. Minerva had been able to recognise that even when she had been a student. Oh, Gertrude herself still seemed stiff and detached, of course. It wasn't as though she ever became bubbly or emotional around him. But Gertrude always seemed to . . . unbend somewhat when she was with Albus, and she was more demonstrative with him than Minerva had ever seen her be with anyone else. And she allowed Albus to take her arm or place his hand on her shoulder . . . Minerva couldn't imagine anyone else even thinking to do so.

But Albus was a naturally warm person – not that he tended to be overly physically demonstrative, but he easily bestowed an affectionate smile on his friends and students and would often pat someone on the shoulder or hand briefly. It should not be surprising that he would offer Gertie gestures of affection, particularly if they had known each other for a while even before she came to teach at Hogwarts, and if they were somewhat warmer gestures than those he gave others, that should not be surprising, either. And that she should accept them from a friend who had supported her during a difficult time in her life was not an odd thing. However, that Gertrude, a naturally reticent and undemonstrative witch, might return those gestures did seem noteworthy. Not that Minerva had witnessed many such occasions, of course. But the one occasion that did stick out in her mind had created an image that Minerva had never been able to dislodge from her memory.

Minerva remembered arriving in the Astronomy Tower early one morning that summer she had helped with the wards and finding Albus and Gertie standing quite close beside one another and looking out across the grounds. Albus was standing near the edge, leaning forward against the wall, head down, and Gertrude was slightly behind him, her hand resting on his upper arm. Gertie must have heard Minerva come up, because she dropped her arm and stepped quickly away. It had disturbed Minerva terribly at the time, although she had managed to hide her feelings in the moment by pretending she had forgotten something and running back to her room, where she splashed her face with cold water and drove the image from her mind.

Minerva stretched and let the sun warm her belly. In retrospect, it didn't seem as awful as it had at the time. She knew that Albus had a lot weighing on his mind during those years, things he would not share with someone as young as she had been at the time. She had been his student, after all. He had been protective of her, and looking back, Minerva could not fault him for that. Gertrude had provided him adult friendship.

Minerva stood and jumped from the rock. She made her way around to the side of the fort where she had left Gertie sitting on the wall. Minerva looked up in time to see the older witch sliding over the side of the wall, presumably down to the steps. She transformed back to her ordinary form and found a pile of rocks to lean on while she waited. A moment later, the Arithmancy teacher appeared, climbing through the hole in the wall.

"We will have an appetite for lunch, I would say, wouldn't you, Minerva?"

Minerva nodded, somewhat subdued after her introspection. They began the long walk back to the house.

"Having a hearty appetite should help you make it through lunch, at any rate. I shall be frank with you, Minerva. Some of my relatives are less congenial than one might hope. That was one reason I was glad you accepted my invitation. You will be something of a relief for those of us who have the misfortune of not finding them the most scintillating and gracious company."

Minerva laughed shortly. "So I am to provide entertainment?"

"I didn't mean that, precisely." They were climbing out of one of the steeper ditches, and Gertrude paused till they reached the top. "But I did think it only fair to warn you. One in particular, actually. Not just of her, but also of what others may say of her."

Minerva did not have the slightest idea what Gertrude was driving at. This was what she considered "frank"?

"Whoo! I think I need to catch my breath a minute, Minerva. Even the stairs at Hogwarts haven't kept me in shape for this walk, I'm afraid. I'm getting old."

The two sat side by side on a fallen megalith, sunk deep into the earth.

"Valerianna Yaxley, née Crouch, to be precise. My late husband's cousin." Gertie turned her head to look at Minerva. "She will seem quite the model of respectability – gentility, even – at first. But when she learns who you are . . . you may hear some things that . . ." Gertie looked back toward the house, as though it would tell her what to say.

Minerva waited. Finally, her curiosity aroused, she asked, "What? What things?"

"It's more likely that you'll hear something about her from someone else once they learn that you teach at Hogwarts with me." Gertie let out her breath slowly. "It really isn't my place to tell you this, and if it weren't for the fact that it would be worse coming from someone else, I wouldn't, you know."

Minerva had never known Gertrude to be this round-about before. She might expect veiled meanings, but not this meandering discourse. It was most peculiar. "Well, if you wish to tell me something, why don't you just come right out and say it."

Minerva had absolutely no idea what Gertrude might be about to say. She'd never heard of this Valerianna, although she had met some Crouches and had known a Yaxley when she was in school – both the Crouches and Yaxleys were pureblood families with money and influence.

"Valerianna was married to a friend of my husband's, as may not come as a surprise, since she was his cousin and they were all at Hogwarts at the same time – my husband was almost ten years older than I, so we weren't at school together. Her husband – Gordon Yaxley – was killed during the war, shortly before your seventh year, I believe. It was a rather a nasty business. Gordon had been working with the Ministry on a project that involved breaking the wards that Grindelwald was using. Albus was in charge of the project, as you may or may not know. Gordon normally did no fieldwork; he was a decent chap, but not particularly powerful, although his ability with runes and Arithmancy was outstanding, and he was highly valued for his contributions.

"At some point, the Ministry determined that there was a small Grindelwald stronghold in Belgium that was strategically important. The Dark Wizard had been operating the outpost to manipulate Muggle activities in that area; it was also serving as a base for kidnapping local wizards and witches and transporting them back to Grindelwald's headquarters. It was believed to be very lightly guarded, however. Ministry spies had information indicating that the outpost relied heavily upon its wards and that if the wards could be brought down, the Aurors would meet little resistance.

"Albus was supposed to have gone on the mission to bring down the wards and destroy the outpost. The Ministry moved up the time of the mission and when Albus arrived in London, they had already sent the team out. The Ministry, in their belief that the target was a minor one, lightly guarded, decided to send Gordon instead of Albus. Gordon was quite keen to go, too. He had worked out many of the spells for taking down the wards; he wanted to see them work.

"Albus was furious; he left the Ministry without so much as a by-your-leave and caught up with the team. By then, however, it was too late for him to be of much help. Gordon and two of the eight Aurors were dead, and another two were gravely wounded. They had captured the base and, through some stroke of luck, had been able to capture or kill most of the wizards who had resisted, allowing only a few to escape."

"So his wife was angry with Albus?" asked Minerva, wondering if all this had just been a lead up to learning that one of the other guests disliked the Hogwarts Headmaster.

"No, Valerianna never seemed to blame Albus. In fact, I don't believe she did. She had been happy enough in her marriage, I think, but had never really come to terms with the fact that Gordon's greatest ambition was to devise spells for others to use. But Gordon had been a Ravenclaw, unlike most of his family, who tended to be sorted into Slytherin. His joy came from achievements that his wife could never appreciate. So although I would never say that she was happy he had died, she was not displeased to be free of the life they had led."

Minerva shook her head. "She actually told people that?"

"Of course not; she's Slytherin, through and through. No, she said she was glad that he had died doing something he loved and that his sacrifice had been worthwhile."

"Then, if she didn't blame Albus, and she was happy to be free of her marriage and the widow of a war hero, I don't understand . . ."

"A few years ago, Albus began seeing Valerianna socially. Of course, he had done so before, and she was on the Hogwarts Board of Governors at that time. But he began to . . . escort her to various Ministry events and other wizarding social occasions around London. She was quite pleased to be seen with a living hero, a wizard who was not only intelligent, but powerful, as well. She believed that it was only a matter of time before Dippet retired and Albus was named Headmaster. Valerianna was aware that Albus had been approached twice before to become Minister for Magic. She believed three times is the charm, and that with the proper persuasion, Albus would eventually agree to become Minister for Magic after serving a few years as Headmaster."

Minerva sat, somewhat disbelieving, staring at her former Arithmancy teacher. Why would this person have cared whether Albus became Headmaster or Minister for Magic? Was Gertrude saying that Albus had been . . . involved with this witch?

"And so . . . ?" Minerva finally asked.

"Valerianna Yaxley wanted to be the wife of the Minister for Magic, Minerva. She thought that she could influence Albus into, first, marrying her, obviously, and then into agreeing to become Minister for Magic."

Minerva stared at Gertrude, open-mouthed and incredulous. "I don't believe it."

Gertrude looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "There are some very ambitious witches in the world, Minerva; I thought you would be aware of that by now."

"Well, of course, but Albus wouldn't . . . Albus just . . . he never said anything." Minerva thought that Albus would have mentioned something to her if he was seeing some witch socially – seeing her often enough that the witch thought they might marry.

"Mmm. Fortunately, before she managed to completely sink her claws into him, he discovered Valerianna was not the witch she presented herself to be. I think they only saw each other six, perhaps eight, months."

Six or eight months. About three years ago. Minerva hadn't seen much of Albus then. She remembered that he had stopped by her office once at about that time, but only to say hello; unlike their usual custom, they hadn't gone out for lunch or dinner. Albus had said he had some other things to attend to in the city. Minerva's stomach clenched at the thought. It wasn't as though Albus had owed her anything; she was a former student, a casual friend, that was all. But the thought that Albus had been seeing some witch for several months and had never mentioned it to her, not even in the offhanded way that people mention a date or a friend, bothered her. And he had never mentioned it since, either.

"So he stopped seeing her?"

"Oh, yes, he broke it off quite completely. Valerianna was left with absolutely no doubt that Albus was not going to become Minister for Magic and that she most definitely was not going to become his wife, regardless of anything else he might do."

Minerva stared off across the moor, unseeing. Not even really thinking.

Gertrude stood. "We had best get back. Lunch will be served soon, and we need to make ourselves presentable." She grinned, "Easier for you than for me."

Minerva tried to return the older witch's smile. She was not sure what to make of all she had just been told. As they walked, one question rose in her mind that she knew Gertie could answer.

"Why did you tell me this?"

"Because if someone made some . . . joke about it, I did not want you to be taken completely unawares. As it is, you are obviously taken aback. It was not my place to say anything. And I am sure that Albus would prefer not to discuss the matter. But since Valerianna will be here – and there will be others here, as well, who are aware of the former situation – I thought it best to say something before someone made a remark that would leave you with no idea what was going on or how to react."

They walked along in silence a while longer. "Also, Valerianna has no doubt heard your name from Albus. Even if she says nothing about Albus, she may imply something about having heard of you before. As I said, Minerva, Valerianna is a literate and superficially charming woman. I did not want you to become a source of amusement for her – even though she is such a Slytherin, you might not even be aware she was laughing."

"I see. And you knew she would be here when you invited me?" Minerva stopped and looked at Gertrude, unsure of what, or who, she was seeing.

"I knew she would be arriving sometime this week. I did not know that she would also be arriving this morning, however." Gertrude considered a moment. "There are a great many relatives coming and going this week. Many, however, will only be here Wednesday and Thursday, for the engagement party. I was unsure whether Valerianna planned only to attend the party or not. When I learned she was coming earlier, I decided I should warn you sooner rather than later."

"Engagement party?" Gertrude had mentioned a party in her second letter, but she hadn't said that it was an engagement party.

"Yes. Don't worry, you are quite welcome. I think you will find the engaged couple quite suited to one another – they are both equally horrid. One of my cousins – actually, my cousin's son – is marrying one of his cousins. Isn't that pleasant? So very convenient when you both already share the same last name – no bother at all."

Minerva suppressed a shudder. The Egidius and Parnovon families had often intermarried over the last few hundred years, but they always married people they were only related to by marriage, or who were several generations removed.

"They're cousins?" Minerva asked, her mind temporarily distracted from the revelation that Gertrude had made.

"Not first cousins, although the Blacks have been known to do that, as well. Helps keep all the nastiest traits in the family."

They had reached the house. Gertie turned and gave her a crooked grin. "Is the lioness ready to face the vipers?"

Minerva smiled and shrugged, unsure what response to make.

They entered only to be practically run down by two laughing children. "Ooo, sorry, ma'am, Madam Gamp. Very sorry," the boy panted, pushing his red hair back from his eyes.

"I told you two not to run in the house. We are visitors here, and I expect you to be on your best behaviour! And you know what that means!" A mild Irish brogue turned the scolding sweet.

"Yes, Da," said the girl, nodding vigorously. The boy echoed her words, but with a little more nonchalance.

Minerva turned to look at the speaker, a tall wizard with dark hair with some white strands running through it. He was wearing a dark Muggle suit with a white shirt and tie. He wouldn't looked out of place on Bond Street, if it weren't for the wand hanging from his belt in a rather ornately decorated sheath.

"Now be off with you!" the man said with a smile, shooing the children out the door.

The two children ran out, glad to be free of the house and the adults for a little while.

"I apologise for me 'wee beasties,'" he said, turning to Minerva. "I did tell them to wait until they were outside, Gertrude. But you know Alroy and Ainya. And who is this vision of loveliness you have brought with you, then? A goddess sprung from beneath the standing stone?" he asked, turning back to Minerva.

Minerva blushed, well aware of her current appearance. Was this one of the dreadful relatives, and was he making fun of her? She looked up at him to see him smiling down at her; the mirth in his bright blue eyes was contagious, and she could not help but smile back.

"This is Minerva McGonagall –" Gertrude began.

"Ah, the Saviour of Our Sanity!" He took Minerva's hand and bent over it, sketching a quick bow. "Gertrude told me that I might find at least one agreeable companion while I was here; you do look promising!" Just then, they were interrupted by a loud screech and several bellows coming from the front drive. "Uh-oh, must be off to see what damage me 'wee beasties' have done this time," he said with a wink. With that, he dashed out the door behind them.

"Who was that?"

"Cormac Quinlivan MacAirt. The children, as you may have guessed, were his son and daughter. Alroy starts at Hogwarts in September." Gertie shook her head. "God save us. But come, we need to change. Lunch is in twenty minutes. Brue will fetch you."

Author's Note: The password that Minerva uses, "alvarium album." is a variation on Albus's nom de plume, "Apiarus B. White," which we learned in chapter eight, "Minerva's Project," hence Albus's question. "Alvarium album" and "apiarus albus" both mean "white beehive." "Apiarus B. White" is a play on Albus's name, as "dumbledore" supposedly means "bumblebee." Thus, Minerva was embarrassed, though not as badly as she would be if she'd used his actual name!

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I appreciate and answer all reviews. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed the story so far!