LXXVI: A Most Pleasant Disturbance

LXXVI: A Most Pleasant Disturbance

Minerva climbed up the rickety ladder to the Divination classroom. She would have to speak to Albus about having it replaced. Of course, she would have to check with Professor MacAirt first, in case she had a sentimental attachment to it. Doubtless the Hogwarts wards kept the ladder from falling apart, but the rungs were still alarmingly creaky, in Minerva's opinion – and she was quite comfortable with ladders and heights, probably from clambering around on the cliffs near home as a child. Closed-in spaces, on the other hand . . . .

She entered the Divination classroom and uttered a Lumos to help light her way across the room. This classroom was about the only thing she had enjoyed about Divination until she'd quit it after her OWLs. Morning classes in that room were especially nice. There were windows on three sides of the tower room, and Professor MacAirt always kept them open, even in the winter, merely using a charm to keep the cold out. It was a light, bright, open and airy room; the only classroom she liked better had been Dumbledore's – but that may have had more to do with the teacher than the room.

Minerva entered the Divination teacher's study and climbed the stairs that circled the outside of the room. She reached the top, took a deep breath, let it out, and knocked at the door, rapping lightly on the frame surrounding a portrait of a blonde-haired girl in a blue dress. She could hear voices from the room beyond, and the door opened to her.

"Oh, good, Minerva! I'm glad you could come. Honnie said you might. Please! Come in!" Hafrena said with an inviting smile.

Minerva entered the room. She had only been in the Divination professor's quarters once before, and she liked the sitting room as well as she remembered. Like the classroom, it was bright and airy. The furniture was upholstered in light colours and, although of modern design, the sofas and armchairs were comfortable. The pale upholstery was complemented by accessories in brighter colours, particularly brilliant emerald green and gold. That entire level of the tower was just one single room, divided only by shifts of function. There was a sitting area, cosily arranged around the overlarge fireplace, a section that could be described as a library, and a dining area. Minerva had never seen anything quite like it – and certainly not in the Hogwarts castle – but it was open, airy, and uncluttered, yet simultaneously comfortable and attractive. And other than the obligatory door portrait at the top of the stairs, all of the artwork on the walls was Muggle. It had quite surprised her when she had visited the last time – Hafrena was easily ninety years old, and the room had struck Minerva as being modern and youthful – and certainly not particularly wizarding. When asked about the decor, the witch explained that she had never liked the dark, stuffy, overly ornate, heavily-furnished rooms she had grown up with, and she wasn't particularly fond of the "Hogwarts aesthetic," as she called it. Fine for the Great Hall and the student common rooms, she said, but when she retired to her rooms for the evening, she didn't want to be surrounded by it. Seeing the results of the witch's distaste for the "Hogwarts aesthetic," Minerva didn't take offense.

Johannes stood as Minerva approached. He smiled and nodded at her.

Gertrude greeted her with a small smile. "Good to see you, Minerva. Come, sit by me," she said, patting the sofa cushion. "Hafrena has some nice sherry that we're sipping. Would you like a glass?"

Minerva sat next to Gertrude, feeling somewhat awkward. "Um . . ."

"I also have a good whiskey – Irish, not Scotch – and some rather pedestrian fire whisky. Last time I get anything other than Old Ogden's," Hafrena added. "Oh, and a blackberry cordial. Somewhat syrupy to my mind, but some like it."

Gertrude chuckled. "May I guess that our Headmaster is one of those who like the cordial?"

Hafrena grinned and nodded, but then turned to Minerva and said, "And, of course, we can always get you butterbeer, lemonade, pumpkin juice, water – I learned a nice charm when I was on holiday in Venice to put 'gas' in it, as the amusing young waiter described it to me, so you could have bubbles, if you like them!"

Everyone else was drinking sherry . . . "A glass of sherry would be nice."

Her hostess nodded and waved her wand, Summoning a glass and the bottle of sherry from across the room. She made an elegant job of pouring Minerva's glass and Levitating it to her.

"Thank you. . . ." Minerva wasn't quite sure how to address Professor MacAirt, having never called her anything other than "Professor," even after returning to teach. She felt it would be rude to call her by her first name, and yet everyone else was on a first-name basis with each other. Gertrude had invited her to call her by her given name within weeks of her arrival, and it had taken some practice, but Minerva had become comfortable addressing her as "Gertrude" in private. Professor Birnbaum had only taught at Hogwarts during the last few months of her seventh year, so calling him "Johannes" had come somewhat more easily.

"You're welcome! I am glad you were able to come and that you weren't put off by the trek up to the Tower."

"No, I've become rather used to climbing up and down several flights of stairs every day. I don't even notice it anymore," Minerva said with a polite smile. "It didn't seem very far."

She wished she could find an opening to apologise to Gertrude. She didn't want to make the Arithmancer uncomfortable by raising something that might remind her of other things that she didn't want to be thinking about, and she certainly didn't want to make more of it than it was, but she did think an apology of some sort was called for.

"When Minerva was down for her visit, we walked out to the hill fort and climbed around. Unlike some, she didn't begin to whine and complain about the distance or the difficulty before we'd even left the gardens," Gertie said, her eyes smiling as she remembered.

Minerva remembered the trousers Gertrude had loaned her, and thought perhaps that might be amusing in the re-telling. "Yes, well, the trousers you loaned me were useful, Gertrude." Minerva smiled at the others. "I almost thought she was joking when she mentioned something about loaning me trousers, but it didn't seem the sort of joke she would make. And then this little house-elf arrived in my room with a folded garment hovering over his head, and when I unfolded it, there they were! Trousers! Brown trousers. They had two legs. And belt loops. And it seemed I'd never seen anything quite so peculiar before! Well, after blinking at them a bit, and wondering how impolite it would be to refuse them, and still suspecting a practical joke of some kind, I tried them on, made a few changes so they would fit, created a blouse from one of my favourite robes, and looked at myself in the mirror: a Witch in Trousers. I was just deciding that, regardless of their practicality, the trousers were perfectly impossible, when Gertrude arrived at the door, also in trousers." Minerva was pleased to see that even Gertrude was grinning at the story. "Although I was more than decently covered, I felt strangely naked in them, and Gertrude had to remind me that I could walk in them without mincing my steps!"

Hafrena laughed. "No wonder Gertrude has taken such a shine to you! Most witches are horrified by the mere idea of wearing trousers when she presents them with it, and are strongly insulted when she sends a pair along for them to try!"

Minerva smiled. "Well, I wasn't unsceptical about them, and I can't say I was particularly comfortable in them at first, nor that I am in any hurry to acquire a pair of my own trousers, but they are far less ridiculous than I'd first thought."

"Well, it was no test, and she certainly wasn't required to wear them, but I was pleased she lived up to my expectations for the boldness of a Gryffindor!" Gertie joked. She looked at Minerva, a fond smile on her face. "Reginald would have liked you, Minerva. He always enjoyed climbing around the ruins, and knew more about them than even I did, despite the fact that I'd grown up with them. He probably would have taken you around to see the graffiti – sixth century graffiti. Most of it in the form of rather rude pictures, I'm afraid. But there are also some older inscriptions from when it was used by the Romans. He did a great deal of work on them, uncovering new ones, recovering ones that had worn away from weather, recording them. . . . I still have his last notes, unfinished, from our last holiday home. We never should have returned . . . .we should have stayed. He could have finished . . ." Gertrude's eyes misted and she shook herself. "Anyway, Minerva, I wish I had thought to show them to you. You may have appreciated them – Reginald was sure he'd identified some wizarding inscriptions alongside the ordinary Muggle ones among the Roman era artifacts. I think you inherited some of your father's interest in that sort of thing, didn't you?"

"Yes, although, of course, devoting myself to Transfiguration, I am afraid that my knowledge of Ancient Runes and archaic wizarding inscriptions and spells may have more breadth than depth."

"Well, next time you're down, I will bring you out to see them. We'll bring Aine along. She is quite the little linguist, though her father hopes that she will follow in her mother's footsteps and go into Herbology. Still, she's young yet – there may be hope for her: she may enter Arithmancy!" Gertie grinned at her own joke.

"Ah, but she's a MacAirt, Gertrude," Hafrena said with a tilt of her head. "You know she's mine. Whatever else she may do with herself, she's mine."

Gertrude stiffened slightly beside Minerva. "I am aware of your meaning, but I do not like that turn of phrase, Hafrena. And, given the independence that Quin has encouraged in his children, I think you would find her avoiding Divination if she heard you express yourself in such a way."

"Sorry, Gertrude. Force of habit among the MacAirts, I'm afraid. I don't mean it literally," Hafrena explained, directing her comments at all three of her guests. "I simply mean that as a MacAirt, I have an obligation to her to assist her with her gifts. It is more about what I owe her than what she does with herself. It is an infelicitous phrase, and I will endeavour not to use it again."

Gertrude relaxed beside Minerva. "Of course . . . and I know very well how you mean it. But it sounds almost predatory, and certainly possessive, when you put it the other way."

Hafrena nodded. "And you have reminded me of that very well, Gertie. Thank you."

There was a lull in the conversation, and Minerva turned to Johannes. "You know, I've been thinking, Johannes, and I believe I would like to see that Jarvey sometime. Are you still considering a visit to him tomorrow?"

Johannes grinned widely. "Yes, although we have only determined that we will visit sometime after lunch. We may all need a bit of a sleep tomorrow morning," he said.

"Yes, I'm interested in how a drunken Auror swears," Gertrude said with a quirk of her mouth. "Have you any Aurors whom we may invite along, ply with drink, and then give us a demonstration so that we can compare the Jarvey's performance with the real thing?"

He laughed. "I think you will not need to hear a drunken Auror once you have heard the Jarvey!"

They all chuckled slightly.

Minerva turned to Gertrude. "You know, Gertrude . . . I want to apologise. I – "

"No need, not if you're referring to your initial reaction to the suggested walk. We all say things occasionally that don't come out as we mean them. And it must have been extremely irritating to hear these two go on and on about walks in the garden and Jarveys and so forth, and have no idea what they were on about. So don't worry – I understand. Besides," she added, "you should have heard me tear into this one" – she gestured toward Hafrena – "when she came to drag me up here. I probably swore like a drunken Jarvey!" She grinned at her hostess.

"Well, I wouldn't put it that way, Gertie, though you did dig in your heels and snort like a wild Abraxan!"

Gertrude laughed at that, as did the others.

By the time Minerva left that night, it was after midnight. Johannes had fallen asleep in his chair, his glass of fire whisky still cradled in his right hand, and Hafrena said just to leave him. Minerva and Gertrude left together, bidding Hafrena good night and thanking her for her hospitality. When they reached the ladder down to the seventh floor, Minerva looked at it and shook her head. Now she knew why Hafrena had said to let Johannes sleep. He would have had a hard time negotiating the ladder.

"I'd forgotten the ladder. I'm very glad I didn't have more to drink than I did. Would you prefer to go first, or shall I?"

Gertrude looked at Minerva. "Perhaps if you went first, I could trust you to catch me if I fell," she said with a slightly tipsy grin.

"And I couldn't trust you?" Minerva asked it before she knew what she was saying.

"You could; but you don't. Well, you would. But you'd rather not." Gertrude gazed at her with a peculiar expression on her face, and Minerva had the feeling that Gertrude wasn't talking about the dangers posed by the ladder.

"Well, I think I got a later start on the sherry. I may be a bit faster on the draw. But I wouldn't mind if you kept an eye on me and had your wand out . . . ."

Minerva didn't slip, but she did find the ladder even more rickety feeling than she had going up.

"All right, there, Gertrude?" Minerva looked up and watched as Gertrude descended the ladder, peculiarly appearing to be using her hands more than her feet, which seemed barely to touch the rungs, but she made it down quite successfully.

The older witch dusted her hands off. "I can't tell you the number of times over the years that Hafrena has had more than one overnight guest because either they weren't fit to climb down the ladder or they simply refused to. Slughorn hasn't been to any of her gatherings since nineteen forty-nine, when, after he got to the top of the ladder, he looked down at it, vomited, then keeled over. He had to be Levitated back up to Hafrena's sitting room, where he spent the night on her sofa."

Minerva suppressed her grin. That would have been quite a sight. "I was thinking about whether the ladder might not be due for some . . . repair or replacement. Perhaps when the wards are renewed?"

"Yes, they are getting a bit more . . . alarming than usual."

The two witches started down the main staircase. When they reached the fourth floor and Minerva didn't stop there, Gertrude looked at her questioningly.

"I thought I'd walk you back to your room, and then I have a stop to make, myself."

"You needn't, but it would be nice." Gertrude smiled at her. "Johannes told me what you said earlier. About asking me what it was that I wanted to do." The older witch drew a shaky breath. "That was very kind. Thank you. They all meant well, I knew that, but I just . . . they just kept after me. Albus wasn't quite as bad as the other two, but he kept trying to be so . . . cheerful. About the most ridiculous things! I loved him for it, but I also wanted to shake him, particularly the third time he offered me a peppermint pillow. I would have greatly preferred it if he had just given me the work he had asked me back here to do."

They reached the second floor and Gertrude turned to Minerva. "I don't usually say such things, Minerva," she said softly, "And perhaps that's a failing with me, but I do want you to know I appreciate your coming up tonight. And that I am glad you are here at Hogwarts. Albus told me that you have accepted the position as Head of Gryffindor. I know you will do well and be a credit to your House and to Albus." They began walking toward the side corridor where Gertrude's rooms were located. "It is good for him to have you here, you know, Minerva. I'm glad you accepted the position. You'll be able to do more as a Head of House."

Minerva didn't know quite what to say. "I am glad I came tonight, as well. I know I'm not an old friend like Johannes or Professor MacAirt, and I wasn't sure if I should. But now I'm happy I did. And I will certainly do my best as Head of Gryffindor."

Reaching Gertrude's door, they stopped, and Gertrude said, "Tenax." Her door clicked open.

"Good night, Minerva. Thank you for your company."

Minerva nodded. "Good night, Gertrude. And I hope that tomorrow will be a better day for you," she added sincerely.

"It will certainly be another day, and sometimes just that is sufficient." As she opened the door, the older witch raised a hand and brushed Minerva's arm lightly before entering her quarters.

Minerva walked slowly down the narrow corridor to the main hallway. This had been a very peculiar day. Her emotions had been so exercised from morning till night, Minerva didn't think herself capable of feeling anything at all right now, even if a Boggart appeared in front of her. When she ceased thinking about Gertrude as, well, Gertrude and whatever it was the witch had come to represent in her life, she found herself actually liking her. She'd never be able to talk with her the way she did with Poppy, or spend time with her in the same relaxed, casual manner, but she could envision developing a friendly, collegial relationship. If she could get past her jealousy, which she didn't even know was warranted. And even if it were . . . it was unfair to Gertrude to dislike her on that basis alone. Gertrude had always treated her fairly, after all, even as a student. She had treated her with respect, even when she hadn't been particularly deserving of it, Minerva thought, remembering the witch's response to her "excursion" after Myrtle had been killed. Looking back on the incident now as a teacher, Minerva doubted that she would have exercised the restraint that Gertrude had, nor that she would have treated the offender as anything other than an errant child who should be sent to bed without pudding. But Gertrude had given her something to think about, instead. A pity she wasn't Head of Slytherin instead of Slughorn. She might keep the little snakes in line better. Minerva sighed. Now that she was a teacher – and especially now that she was Head of Gryffindor – she would have to work doubly hard not to allow her House biases to affect her treatment of the students as individuals.

She reached the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's stair, and gave the password. The gargoyle, which had been feigning sleep, opened one eye, then closed it, but the door opened, nonetheless, and Minerva mounted the moving stair. Certain that the Headmaster was asleep – and if he wasn't, he should be – Minerva didn't knock, but just opened the door. The room was dark, and she used her wand to light her way across the room. She hoped he had left the applications on his desk and not put them away when she hadn't retrieved them earlier.

Just as she bent over the desk, trying to see if she could find the documents, Minerva heard a sound come from above, and a moment later, Albus appeared at the top of the spiral brass staircase.

"Ah, it is you, Minerva!" He began down the stairs, belting his dressing gown around him as he went. "Is everything all right?"

He had clearly been woken out of a sound sleep, Minerva thought. He hadn't even put on his glasses and he still looked half-asleep.

"I am sorry, Albus! I did not mean to wake you! I thought if I was quiet – "

"Don't worry, my dear. That's fine. Is there anything you need? Something I can help you with?" he asked.

"I just came up for the applications. I had been unable to get them earlier, but I hadn't forgotten them."

"You could have waited until morning, my dear! And we will do better with a little more light, I would say." Albus waved a hand in a slight gesture and one of the sconces near the desk lit up.

"I really hadn't intended to wake you."

"If anyone enters my office, or, I should say more correctly, if the gargoyle allows anyone entry, I am made aware of it."

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't realise that, or I would have waited until tomorrow."

"Well, now that you're here – " Albus stifled a yawn.

"Yes, yes, of course!" Minerva looked at the contents of his desk and could now see the small stack of applications neatly placed in the corner, a small note to her on top of them, and she picked them up. "Again, I am sorry to have woken you. I didn't realise I would."

"Yes, it is a convenient charm, but it has its drawbacks, as well. I have it focussed on my desk chair, but the effect is distributed throughout the office and my suite. It is usually useful. And in this instance," he added with a smile, "it is an unexpected pleasure to see you."

Minerva smiled at his words, then said, "So that's what I felt that time – your charm!"

Albus knit his brow. "When? What do you mean? What did you feel?"

"I was sitting at your desk, trying to get some work done for you, and I felt a peculiar tingling. I looked around and didn't see anything, but a few minutes later, Gertrude arrived. Then when Professor Slughorn came up, I didn't know he was here until he knocked. But I wasn't at the desk at the time, either."

"How very unusual! I did not believe that anyone else could be aware of it – I tied it to the wards and tuned it specifically to me." He looked puzzled for a moment, but then yawned and, with a shrug, said, "Possibly resonance of some sort . . . but this is probably not the best time to contemplate that particular mystery."

"No, and you should get back to bed. You look as though I woke you out of a sound sleep."

"I don't mind – would you like to take the short-cut through the back steps?" Albus offered.

"No, I'll leave the way I came. You need to get back to bed and I need to stretch my legs a bit," Minerva said, feeling badly for having woken him and thinking how very sleepy he looked.

"Very well, my dear. But I can at least show you to the door," he said, stifling another yawn.

Albus walked over to the door and rested his hand on the handle, Minerva following. "I hope you had a nice evening," he said.

"I did, and more importantly, I believe that Gertie did, as well," Minerva replied.

He nodded sleepily, smiling, and placed his other hand on her arm. "I am glad. Very glad. And it is a pleasure to see you and be able to say good night to you again, my dear."

Albus took a step toward her, and Minerva looked up. The hand that had rested on her arm went around her, and he placed his lips on her forehead. Minerva closed her eyes, and she brought her free hand up to rest on his chest, barely able to restrain herself from dropping the applications to the floor and putting both arms around him. As his lips pressed against her forehead and she felt his breath in her hair, Minerva struggled with the urge to raise her face and kiss his mouth. She was beginning to fear that she was going to lose her struggle when Albus let go and stepped back.

"Mm-Minerva, I, um, yes . . . good night. I am very sleepy, I am afraid." He blinked at her.

"Well, you get back on up to sleep, then, and hopefully you won't be disturbed again tonight," Minerva responded with a smile, trying to sound perfectly normal.

"Yes, well, this was a most pleasant disturbance . . ." He cleared his throat, then opened the door and held it for her. "I hope you sleep well."

"I think I will. Good night, Albus, sweet dreams." She felt like lingering, but cast one last glance at him and turned and left. As the stair was carrying her downward, Minerva heard the door close above her, and she shivered. The ability to feel had certainly returned to her. How much simpler everything would be if it hadn't . . . .

Note: For information on Jarveys and Abraxans, see Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them! (Or pay a visit to the HP Lexicon.)

Thanks for reading. I hope you're still enjoying the story. I have a new one-shot, "Falling for Pomona," on TPP. It's just a light, humorous little ficlet. And thank you to TPP for adding it to the "Featured Stories" for August 2007!