XLV: A Quiet Afternoon at the Gamp Estate

XLV: A Quiet Afternoon at the Gamp Estate

Thank goodness for small favours, Minerva thought as she rose from lunch and took Quin's elbow. She had again been seated at the far end of the table well away from Valerianna. She hadn't even had to look at her during this meal, as they were both seated on the same side of the very long table. As more guests arrived, the table lengthened to accommodate them all. Again, no children were present, unless one included Quin.

Minerva had noticed that most couples had been seated either across from one another or even apart from one another entirely. She assumed this was to encourage "mingling," but she had been seated beside Quin again. Minerva wondered whether that was Gertie's doing or Madam Gamp's. She doubted very much that it was sheer happenstance that they had been seated beside one another for the last three formal meals. Of course, the others were established couples, and she and Quin had only just met. The engaged couple had arrived that morning and were seated on either side of Madam Gamp. Gropius was being entertained by an older couple who had been in the parlour that morning, and Flint and Valerianna were seated across from one another just next to them. Minerva was pleased to be as far from them as possible, but fortunately not so near Orion and Walburga, the celebrated couple, as to have to speak with them, either. She was slightly disappointed to see that Ella was seated down at the end of the table near Gropius. She would have enjoyed speaking with Quin's mother-in-law again. Instead, Minerva slogged her way through some rather dull conversation with a Rosier across from her, Druella's older brother whom she knew from school, and with one of the prematurely-aged Blacks on her other side, and poked Quin every now and then so that he would rescue her from some particularly annoying conversation. When Rosier started going on about what a wonderful match Orion and Walburga made, Minerva had all she could do to maintain her attitude of cool detachment.

They were both dreadful, Walburga even more insufferable than Orion, and Minerva couldn't help but wonder what problems their children would suffer from as a result of being born from that union. Minerva cringed as Walburga's strident tones and cackling laugh cut through the murmured voices around her. She seemed happy enough, however, and Orion, who spoke little, seemed neither happy nor unhappy. Minerva thought he looked bored, actually. She doubted that this was a love match. Probably, as with Pollux and Irma, their marriage had been arranged very early in their lives.

Gertrude's Aunt Hesper, Orion's grandmother, sat next to Francis Flint and spent the meal turned slightly away from him, speaking to the Blacks on her other side. She also seemed to drink rather copious amounts of wine. Hesper had been one of the witches talking with Columbine and Gropius in the parlour that morning. Minerva detected only a slight family resemblance between Hesper and Gropius, but she thought that Gertrude actually looked more like her aunt than she did her father, a bent-over wisp of a man who looked as though a strong breeze could carry him away. Hesper, in contrast, was slim but tall, with heavy bones, flat chest, broad shoulders, prominent cheek bones, and piercing grey eyes that maintained their sharpness despite the amount of wine she seemed to imbibe. Gertrude, fortunately, had inherited slightly more rounded features and more of a bosom from her mother's side of the family, but it was clear that she had come by her height and her sturdiness honestly.

Minerva thought that, aside from Gropius, the Gamps, whether a Gamp by blood or by marriage, were the healthiest looking pure-bloods in the room. The Blacks were definitely the most frail-looking, with the Yaxleys and Rosiers coming in somewhere in the middle. Quin, of course, was the very picture of both vitality and virility. Unfortunately, Minerva had to admit that her least favourite person in the room also looked fairly vigorous. Valerianna Yaxley née Crouch was definitely a very healthy witch in her sixties. Minerva could tell that, despite her plain looks, beneath her make-up charms, the witch still had a rosy glow to her cheek that required no Glamour or make-up charm to create. She also moved quickly and energetically, Minerva had noticed, and there was no doubt that the witch was sharp – nasty, but sharp.

"Would you like to . . . mingle, or would you prefer a walk – or some time in the library?" Quin asked in her ear as they left the dining room.

"Library?" Minerva hadn't seen a library.

His lips twitched. "A girl after me own heart, I see," Quin said in response to her obvious interest. "It is even on the same floor as your bedroom, but in the other wing. Quite convenient."

"Convenient for what?" Minerva asked with faux frostiness.

"Why, nighttime reading when you can't sleep, of course!" He grinned as he led her up the stairs to the Gamp library. "I think you will enjoy this – Gertie's parents may not be academically inclined, but her grandfather was quite a famed Arithmancer in his day. He also was almost as talented as your father when it came to Ancient Runes and linguistics in general, he was."

"You know my father?" Minerva asked, puzzled.

"Not personally acquainted, obviously, or to be sure, I would have been after an introduction to la grande dame de la Metamorphosis a long time ago," he said with a wink. "I am familiar with his books, however. He has a fluid and unconventional mind. I possess around eighteen of his books, although I confess I have not read all of them – most of them, though!" he said in response to Minerva's look. "I am not one to buy books simply to decorate me shelves. It is simply a matter of time – havin' enough of it."

The two spent a congenial afternoon in the library; when the afternoon sun became too warm, Quin drew the draperies closed and floated small, cool balls of light overhead so that they could read with ease. Minerva thought to ask him about the "personal charm" that Gertie had spoken of, but became so engrossed in her book that any thought of asking him anything flew from her mind.

At about three o'clock, a loud thunking came from one of the windows. Quin got up and drew back a curtain, then opened the window to let in an owl, which immediately flew over and landed on the back of Minerva's chair.

Minerva reached up to take the letter from the bird, and it ruffled its feathers and shifted as she did so. "I'm sorry, poor thing. I haven't any treats for you today."

"I believe there are some in the Gamp owlery, if I can remember where . . . ." Quin looked off into the distance for a moment.

"I don't particularly want to bring the bird down there – perhaps she will find her way there on her own."

"He, not she," said Quin, "and there's no need to go down there. Just draw up a few." He reached out toward the owl, closed his fist, and when he opened it, there were several owl treats in his palm.

"Muggle 'magic tricks.'" Minerva snorted, rolling her eyes. "Really, Quin. I am not that gullible."

"Ah, well. I must remember the lady isn't gullible, Mr Owl," he said, addressing the bird that was now perched on his outstretched arm. He grinned at her. "I can't do it with large things, o' course, but with bits o' treats like these, or with water, which flows, if I know where it is, and if I am familiar enough with the source, I can pull it to where I want it. Rather like what you do when you Apparate, but the other way around . . . and, o' course, you aren't doin' the moving."

Minerva considered that for a moment, and its implications, if true. "You could be quite the thief, then. There are a great many valuable things, particularly in the Muggle world, that are very small. . . . That isn't how you've made your money, is it?" asked Minerva bluntly, remembering her conversation with Gertie that morning about Flint's suspicions.

"It's talkin' with Frankie Flint, you've been, then? And here I was thinkin' you had better taste than that."

"No, I haven't been, and I don't suppose it's any of my business, except in a general sort of way, but I would like to know."

Quin sighed and looked at her appraisingly before bringing the owl to the window and letting it fly away. He watched it fade into the distance before closing the window and drawing the curtain again.

He came back and stood in front of her. "So, 'tis either cheap Muggle tricks I am doin', or 'tis proof o' thievery."

"I didn't mean to accuse you – "

"You weren't? Just as you didn't accuse me of bein' a negligent father allowin' his son to be destroyin' his magical core? Burnin' his self out, I believe you said."

"I didn't mean – "

"'Tisn't entirely your fault," Quin said with a sigh. "'Tis also the world you come from. And it's me own fault as well, for bein' so free with you." He sat. "Better to have let you believe I was just pullin'em from me pocket, or whatever you would assume o' any other wizard who gave a bird treats. I ought to know better by now."

Minerva sat, her letter unlooked at. She watched Quin pick up his book and resume reading.

"I just wanted to know, Quin, because I'd like us to be friends."

Quin didn't look up from the oversized book he was reading. "An' you want to be sure 'tis no thief you have for a friend."

"Not exactly. I'm . . . curious. I always have been."

He put his book in his lap and gazed at Minerva. "No, I do not steal, neither to make me livin' nor to make me livelihood easier, not from Muggles and not from wizards." He looked at her for a moment more, then picked up his book again.

"I didn't mean it to sound as it came out, Quin. Honestly," Minerva said.

"I know that I am not always the model of decorum and good manners, particularly around this lot, but I do not believe that askin' someone if he makes his livin' by stealin' from Muggles is exactly the height of courtesy, Professor McGonagall. At least where I am from. But then, I didn't have the advantages of bein' raised on this blessed isle, an' bein' as I'm unschooled, I probably have missed a lesson or two in polite conversation," he said from behind his book.

"All right, be that way. I may not have phrased it felicitously, and maybe I was even wrong to think such a thing, but it was an honest question, Quin. More honest than most you'd receive under this house. I am . . . I am sorry. I did not intend to offend you, and you do have every right to be offended. I would have been." Minerva waited, hoping that Quin was receptive to her apology. Aside from the fact that she had hoped she had found a new friend, the next couple of days would be very long, indeed, if she no longer had his company.

"Well," said Quin, putting his book aside on the table next to him, "perhaps that wasn't the prettiest apology I've ever heard, but 'twas sincere, I'd like to believe, anyway. . . . An' what are a few infelicitous words between friends, eh?" He quirked a grin and gave a half-shrug. "I'm sure I've said worse t' me friends. And forgiven worse from'em."

Minerva let out a relieved sigh. She hadn't realised until that moment how much she had liked Quin. She really did feel as though she'd known him forever, in a way, although he continually startled her.

"All right, and can I ask that you be understanding in the future when you startle me like that? I'm bound to be . . . offensively honest again, I'm sure," she said with a smile.

"Mmm. You remind me of Gertie. Prettier, of course, and more fun."

"I never! I do not! I am nothing like her!" Minerva sat up straight, indignant and put out by him comparing her to the Slytherin witch.

"Oh, it's just that I have to forgive Gertrude at least once every visit for some blunt remark or another that would mortally wound a more sensitive soul than I," he said with a grin, quite amused by Minerva's outrage. "O' course, she's usually not askin' for me forgiveness in so many words, not as you did. But I recognise her apologies now."

Minerva was quite uninterested in what Gertie's apologies might look like. "Well, you'll just have to get to know me better, then, and you'll see how much we differ."

"I already said you were prettier and more fun! Isn't that what every witch would like to hear?"

Minerva rolled her eyes. "I swear, Quin, you can be so irritating! I don't know why I wanted to apologise!"

"'Tis me charm and me breedin', naturally," he replied with an impish smile. "Speakin' of breedin', by the way, what did you think of the happy couple?"

"Oh, just . . . awful. Especially her. I knew her slightly from school, and she's even worse than I remember. Orion seemed bored."

"He probably was. I think he wishes he weren't a Black, but he'd never say that. He may not even admit it to himself. But he is rather hemmed in by his family. Limited choices in life. He even apparently had an inappropriate liaison with someone unacceptable, but the family forgave him – let him sow his wild oats, so to speak – but in the end, he'll marry that witch. She's a shrew in the making, isn't she?"

"Shrew – perfect word for her. And given how Orion just sat there, he'll probably let her have her way in the little things, then go out and have a bit on the side, as they say."

"Mm. I doubt meself that he ever really stopped seein' the 'inappropriate' witch."

"Was she Muggle-born?"

"I don't think so; 'twould'a been too much, even for a rebellious son, if he still wants his inheritance – I think it was her mother or father who was, I don't pay that much attention to such gossip . . . only enough to use it later, if I have to."

"You sound Slytherin."

"You say that like it's a bad thing, Minerva."

"Well . . . most of the people here are Slytherins. You can't say they exemplify many of the virtues I would hope you want to instill in your children."

"Not them, but Gertrude is Slytherin, and I wouldn't mind if Alroy and Aine took a few lessons from her."

Minerva raised an eyebrow, but said nothing against her hostess.

"You know, I was teasin' you about just bein' acquaintances an' all, but you really don't know her at all, do you?"

"I have known her since I was a third-year. I took Arithmancy from her for five years. I have taught with her for about six months. During those six months, we rarely spoke, and when we did, it concerned the school. Her invitation came as a surprise."

"To hear her talk, though, she seems to know you fairly well," Quin said, puzzled.

"Yes, well, she is friends with Professor Dumbledore. He has been . . . something of a mentor to me. A friend, in fact. Gertrude no doubt has a better sense of who I am simply from speaking with him – and, as you said of the gossip about Orion, she probably listened to what Albus had to say about me in order to use it later on if she needed to."

"Hmm, that sounds rather cold."

"It is Slytherin," Minerva responded succinctly.

"Well, I've known Gertie since I first met me Aileen, and I can tell you that she is not merely . . . manipulative, as you make 'Slytherin' sound. No more than I am, and perhaps less so."

Minerva raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps I ought to reconsider our acquaintance then," she said, only partially in jest. "And what are these other qualities that you believe she possesses?"

"Loyalty, for one."

Minerva gave a short laugh. "I have heard her described that way before, actually."

"You have; well, 'tis true. And if she'd made a different choice at eleven, we'd not be havin' this conversation at all."

"What do you mean?"

"We may have had another sorta conversation, about how she wasn't only loyal, but was also pragmatic and wily."

"I still don't follow . . . ."

"Well, I didn't go to Hogwarts, as you know, but as most of me friends have, I do know something of the Houses. Isn't one of the traits of Hufflepuff supposed to be loyalty?" Quin asked.

Minerva knit her brow. "Yes, but – "

"Young Gertie very nearly was sorted into Hufflepuff, but the prospect distressed her so, that hat-thing put her in Slytherin, instead, where her family usually is put."

Minerva looked at Quin in astonishment. "No! I don't believe it! Hufflepuff?!"

"It's doubtin' me word again, is it?"

"No, no, that's not what I meant. I mean, I can't believe it. Hufflepuff? Half of them are Muggle-born, and half of those who aren't are mixed blood. And they certainly aren't known for their . . . ambition and cunning!"

Quin shrugged. "Always seemed like a daft thing to me, these Houses. But none o' me business. Just seems that most people are a mix o' this an' that, an' doesn't strike me as particularly healthy to divide kids up like that so young. 'Tis one o' me reservations about sendin' me own kids there. But Aileen went, and she turned out just fine."

"What was she?" Minerva asked.

"You mean what House? So you want to be judgin' me late wife, one o' the finest witches to ever grace this earth?"

"No, it's just, if she was a Gamp . . . I was wondering if she were in Slytherin, too. It would be another surprise, that's all."

"Why? Bah . . . no point in arguin' about such nonsense. She was Ravenclaw. Seems the best o' the Houses, to me, an' no offense to Gryffindor."

"None taken." Hmm. Hufflepuff?

"I should be off to check on me kids. You're invited, if you'd like to come. Alroy seemed to take a shine to you. He said you talked to him like a real person, not like he was 'half daft,'" Quin said with a grin.

"I should hope so. But, no, I don't think I will this afternoon, Quin. I think I'll read my letter and perhaps take a nap before dinner."

"May I escort you to dinner? I will be properly attired and attempt to behave meself," he said with a twinkle, reminding her of the previous evening.

Minerva smiled. "Yes, I'd like that. If you don't see me downstairs at the first gong, feel free to come fetch me."

Minerva went back to her bedroom and took pleasure in fixing herself a cup of peppermint tea from Albus's little care package, then curled up in one of the armchairs with it and her letter. Minerva had been surprised to see that Poppy was writing to her so soon after having sent her first "rescue owl" – she hadn't anticipated another one until the next morning. She held her tea mug in one hand and unfolded the letter to read what Poppy had to say that couldn't wait until the next day.

"9 July

"Poppy."