XCIV: Poppy and Potions

XCIV: Poppy and Potions

Minerva went down the stone stairs that led from the pantry to what had once been an ordinary cellar but which had been transformed by various McGonagalls over the last hundred years or so. The most recent changes had occurred before Minerva had even been born, however, and she didn't remember it any other way. She made her way down the somewhat musty smelling hallway to Murdoch's "playroom" and rapped on the partially opened door, then pushed it open to find her brother and Poppy sitting on a pair of high stools in the brightly lit white-washed room, engrossed in conversation, one of Murdoch's old notebooks open in front of them. So he'd been boring her with his childhood experiments in Potions. At least Malcolm had been amusing with his outrageous stories. Minerva loved them both, although she didn't know Malcolm particularly well, since she rarely saw him and all he ever seemed to talk about with her were his "adventures" on those occasions when he was home. When she had been a child, his stories had entertained and even impressed her, but as Minerva got older, she realised that half of what he told her must be just inventions created to amuse her. Murdoch she was closer to, and she loved Melina, so she had spent a lot of time with them during her summer holidays and knew him well, but that didn't change the fact that when Murdoch began to discuss Potions, he could put her to sleep.

"Minerva! Come in! Murdoch was just showing me his old playroom. It is fantastic," Poppy said. "I didn't have anything like this when I was growing up. I don't know anyone who did. No wonder he's such a successful Potions master! He had a head start."

"Yes, well, the sun is shining outdoors, and it's somewhat closed and musty down here. Why don't you two come on up – we can go out and sit in the gazebo and chat," Minerva suggested.

"That's a fine idea, Minerva," Murdoch said, rising from his stool and helping Poppy down from hers. "Poppies need a lot of sunlight."

Minerva was prepared for Poppy to say something about the tiresome play-on-words, but the mediwitch just smiled in response and looked as though she thought that Murdoch had just said something quite clever.

"So, is Melina out there with her beau?" Murdoch asked. He turned to Poppy. "I still find it difficult to call him her fiancé. I don't know what I'll do when they actually marry. I don't feel old enough to be a father-in-law."

Poppy patted his arm. "Melina is very young, but I think Brennan is a good match for her."

"Do you know he's almost my age? I haven't said anything to Melina, of course, but it makes me feel peculiar."

"Then don't think about your ages, just think about your relationships," Poppy advised sensibly.

"She and Brennan are up in the attic, looking at furniture. They might like your advice, in fact, Murdoch," Minerva said, trying not to think about Murdoch's feelings about Brennan's age relative to his own.

Just before they reached the kitchen, Murdoch paused. "You two go on out. We'll find you later. I want to stop and talk with Quimpy, ask him to stay here for a few days. I think it would do Fwisky good. Mother said she's been very depressed the last couple weeks since Tchierie died."

Minerva nodded. "Come on out, Poppy. Maybe we can convince Mother and Johannes to join us. They were talking about things that she could do to improve conditions for some of her fussier plants, though."

When they reached the path through the flower garden, Poppy grabbed Minerva's arm, then looked around quickly.

"Why didn't you introduce me to your brother years ago?" she hissed. "You were holding out on me, Minerva!"

Minerva was flabbergasted. "What? What are you talking about?"

"I mean Murdoch! You hardly ever even talked about him, and I just assumed he was a bit . . . peculiar, like Malcolm. Well, not like Malcolm, since Murdoch obviously married and had Melina, and runs the apothecary, but odd, anyway. You never told me that he was so, so, so absolutely . . ." At a loss for words, Poppy just sighed dramatically. "I swear, I felt like a giggly teenager with him. It was all I could do to remain sensible."

"You mean, you liked my brother? I mean, my brother Murdoch?" Minerva asked.

"What do you think? Don't you realise how attractive he is? Well, he is your brother, so I suppose not, but I could listen to that lovely burr of his for hours. The way he says 'brewing'! Mmm . . ." Poppy looked to the sky and held her hand over her heart, then giggled. "I know you probably think I'm ridiculous, Min, but I really do like him. At least, I think I do. He's very attractive, anyway." Poppy blushed.

Minerva took a breath and let it out. "Well, I wasn't holding out on you. I just never thought of him that way. What I mean is, I would like it if he found a nice witch, but one of my friends . . . . That hadn't occurred to me. You know, Poppy, he has the same burr as I do. I don't see you swoon when I say 'brrrrewing,'" she teased, rolling the 'r' emphatically.

"It's completely different coming from you, Minerva – you don't have his deep voice, for one," Poppy said with a laugh. "But really, Min, he seems wonderful – smart, handsome, interesting. And the way he raised Melina, he must be a good man. And he's so . . . masculine."

Minerva smiled and took her friend's arm and began back down the path through the flowers. "I never would have thought to try to introduce you, but I am glad you like him. I had actually hoped you and Quin might hit it off – he's certainly been a good father, he's intelligent, and his Irish brogue is certainly at least as charming as Murdoch's burr. And he's better looking," Minerva added.

"Quin?" Poppy thought a moment. "I don't know. He may be a bit more handsome, but Murdoch is more appealing to me." She looked over at Minerva and smiled. "Murdoch resembles you somewhat, actually – more than Malcolm does, anyway. Huskier and more muscular, of course, whereas Malcolm is slim, like you are, and has similar eyes, and Murdoch's are grey. But there's something about the shape of Murdoch's face and the way he smiles, and he has the same dark hair you do, though, of course, he's very masculine. So don't disparage his looks, Min!"

They both laughed as they reached the gazebo.

"I don't know, Poppy, this day has not turned out at all as I planned, but I think people had a good time."

"I did, and it seems the others did, as well. I saw you talking to Gertie. Did you get to discuss whatever it was you wanted to talk to her about?"

"No. I suppose that was a disappointment, but it was rather unrealistic to think that I could have a private chat with her with everyone else around. But I also hadn't counted on Malcolm latching on to her as a new and untried audience for his stories, either."

"I don't think she minded at all. And whatever you may think of Malcolm, and I agree that he is a bit peculiar, he can be amusing, and I never got the sense that there was a mean bone in his body, nor even the slightest sneaky streak. It's likely a relief for Gertrude. Has she left, then?"

"No, Malcolm took her off somewhere. I hope he realises that she is a Hogwarts teacher, and however much she might enjoy walking during her holidays, she is not as fit as he is, not to mention that she's older by quite a bit."

"I'm sure that Gertrude can take care of herself," Poppy answered reassuringly.

"I don't know about that, Poppy. She nearly got herself killed in a game of Quidditch, but she wouldn't quit, even when her son and Quin both begged her to."

"Really? I didn't know that Gertrude plays Quidditch."

"She doesn't, believe me. She was Beater, and the Bludger made contact with her more frequently than her bat made contact with it. It was not pretty," Minerva said.

"Well, she probably had a reason to do that. She is a Slytherin, after all," Poppy replied. "I don't think she would let your brother lead her somewhere she didn't think she could handle. And it's not as though you should talk, Minerva this-is-my-favourite-walk McGonagall. You almost got me killed."

"I did not. And I just thought you'd like the view from there. I didn't realise it was such a difficult climb for someone who wasn't used to it. And I was only eighteen. Malcolm's fifty. He has more sense." Minerva hesitated. "I can't believe I just said that Malcolm has any sense at all, let alone more than I once did!"

The two witches laughed.

"Whatever you think about the truth of the details of his stories, though, Min, he does seem to be good at getting people out of tight spots. I don't think he would let anything happen to Gertie," Poppy reassured her. "I'm sure she's safe with him.

"I know. . . . I suppose you're right – my family is probably novel and amusing for her. I knew that before I invited her here. And she seems comfortable enough, which actually surprised me, especially with Brennan here. Even at her own home, she seemed more, I don't know, more like Gertrude Gamp, the witch I know."

"Well, that was an unusual situation, Minerva. All those guests, many of whom were unpleasant, from what you say. She was bound to be somewhat stiff. Surely she must relax sometimes; everyone has to."

Minerva nodded, remembering the evening she had joined Gertrude and Johannes in Hafrena's tower. Gertrude had seemed fairly relaxed then, despite the difficult day she had had. And it did seem she had been less stiff at the Gamp party when there had just been a few people whom she liked, like Ella and Quin – not to mention that it was hardly surprising that she might not relax much around Minerva, with whom she was hardly close. And, of course, Gertrude seemed to be able to relax quite well when she was alone with Albus. Minerva pushed that thought from her mind.

"I suppose you're right, Poppy. And aren't we all a bit different depending on who we're with?"

Poppy nodded. "So what have you been up to the last few days? Melina told me something about that flat you found – or house, rather – but you had asked about the Healer's Pensieve. I wondered why."

"Let's talk about that tomorrow, shall we, Poppy?" Minerva hadn't quite decided what to tell Poppy about why she wanted to borrow the Pensieve, and whatever she told her, she'd just as soon not be overheard by a member of her family. Instead, Minerva related what she had been doing the last few days, omitting her shopping trip with Quin.

Murdoch, Melina, and Brennan joined them in the gazebo, and were soon followed by Johannes and Egeria. Johannes thanked Minerva and her mother for a lovely tea and an enjoyable evening, then took his leave and Apparated back to Hogwarts. Minerva was wondering whether she should go look for Quin and her father when they both showed up, looking as though they had been sharing a drink while they talked.

"I had the impression you didn't drink Scotch, Quin," Minerva said.

"Don't, usually, and didn't today. I, um, brought a bottle of whiskey for you. Forgot to give it to you when I arrived, so I gave it to your father, and we had to try it together."

"Naturally. Was it all right?" Minerva asked with a raised eyebrow.

"O' course. 'Tis the best eighteen-year-old whiskey you can find." He gave her a lopsided grin. "You shoulda joined us, Minerva. Mighta relaxed you a bit."

Minerva smiled at him. "You seem relaxed enough for us both, Quin. It's a good thing we're on the Floo-Network. I don't think you could Apparate. You would have to stay overnight."

"Mmm. You're right there, couldn't Apparate t' London t'night." He yawned. "'Scuse me, Minerva. I'm just a mite tired."

Minerva raised an eyebrow. "Tired? I see. And the whiskey would have nothing to do with it."

He gave her the same lop-sided smile. "Maybe just a bit. But I only had two. It's just been a very long week. But the last two days have been very nice. I like the McGonagalls."

"That's good, Quin," Minerva said. "Are you sure you only had two?"

"Your father was pouring. He is a generous wizard."

"I see. Well, I guess you're in no shape to help me go find my brother and Gertrude before it gets dark, then." It wouldn't be dark for quite a while yet, but Minerva was growing concerned that she had been worried about the wrong brother. Poppy hadn't needed rescuing, but perhaps Gertrude was feeling trapped in an unfamiliar place with a strange wizard.

"If you need me, Minerva – "

"No, no, that's all right." She patted his arm. "You stay here, enjoy yourself."

"I should be goin' soon, meself," Quin said, sitting up straighter. "Must be up early in the morning."

"Well, I could walk you in and you could Floo home now, if you like," Minerva suggested.

Quin took his leave of everyone, and the two headed back up to the house, the pea stones crunching under foot.

"So, d'you think Gertie is taken with your brother?" Quin asked when they were out of earshot.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't think I've ever seen her laugh that way, that's all. She seemed to unbend some."

"Yes, well, Malcolm can be entertaining. But I don't know as he has any real friends, as odd as that may sound to you. He is peripatetic and doesn't develop any attachments, it seems. So I hope Gertrude doesn't think she's found a new friend. He's likely going to move on at some point soon. He mentioned something about Poland to my father. I told him that Malcolm would likely be back soon, that it would just be a brief holiday, but I didn't really believe it."

"I see. I'm glad she had a good time today, though," Quin said.

"So am I. And did you? You spent a long time with my father. I hope it was enjoyable."

"Yes, very. I told you, I was interested in his work. And, of course, we talked about his only daughter." They had reached the library and Quin stopped in the middle of the room. "You are the apple of his eye, you know, Minerva. And I liked your mother. Have you considered tellin' either of them? Askin' their advice, or enlistin' their help?"

"Tell them what?" When Quin just cocked his head and raised his eyebrow, Minerva realised what he meant. "You must have had too much to drink, since I never thought you were crazy before this. Irritating and occasionally infuriating, but not crazy."

"I just thought – " Quin began.

"Don't. Not about that," Minerva said in an urgent whisper. She looked around and closed the library door. "Do you realise what they would think?" she asked in the same low tone. "They could think that he . . . that he had done something inappropriate when I was a student."

"He didn't – "

"No, of course he didn't! But they might think that."

"If they know him at all, they would know that was not in his character. I don't think that would occur to them, love."

"No, but, if not that – do you realise how old Albus is? He was in school with my grandparents, Quin, and my parents were not precisely young when I was born. And that's just his age, forgetting his position and his stature." Minerva flopped down into a chair and closed her eyes for a moment before she looked back up at Quin. "It's hard enough for me to deal with it when I try to think about the situation objectively, and I'm the one with the feelings. My parents, no matter how wonderful they are or how much they love me, would think I had lost my mind and developed a bizarre infatuation for Albus. You suggest seeking their advice or asking for their help. Their advice would be to leave Hogwarts, or to at least minimise my time with him, to forget him, and to find someone more suitable. And their help would likely consist of introductions to more suitable wizards in whom I have no interest. I know this because if I were my daughter, that is what I would say."

"'Tis good you are not your daughter, then," Quin said. He sat on the corner of the sofa across from her and reached out and took her hand. "Minerva, love, I know you are hesitant to let Albus know how you feel, and . . . you don't think that you can ever be more than friends, but you want that, you know you do, you want more, and you . . . if I am right, and you do have a chance with him, if he does respond to you and comes to love you as you do him, what will you do? Hide it as if it were somethin' shameful? Wouldn't you want to be able to bring him around to visit your family, as Melina brought Brennan today, and not pretend he was nothin' more to you than your boss and an old friend? And how do you think he would feel, if he thought you were ashamed?"

"I wouldn't be ashamed. But it's impossible. So there's no point in discussing it. Now with you or later with my parents, either of them. My mother already knows I am fond of him, and grateful to him, and she believes it is because of all he has done for me through the years, and that is the way it will remain."

"All right, love. But parents can surprise you sometimes." He stood and Minerva rose, too.

"I appreciate your thinking about me, Quin, and that you care. It was quite a relief yesterday, talking to you. And I was even feeling, I don't know, almost hopeful for a while, but that is fading now, and I'm worried that the robes were too much and that the letter I wrote him this morning was too emotional. But I still appreciate your help and your friendship."

"I was happy to help, Minerva. And I've become rather fond of you. I want to see you happy, and I don't believe that you can be if you don't at least try to win the wizard you love. But 'tis your life, and you have to make the choices."

"Thank you. It's nice not to feel so alone." Minerva successfully fought the tears that threatened to rise in her eyes.

"You aren't alone." He reached out and caressed her cheek briefly. "You will tell me about the robes, how he likes them, won't you?"

"Of course. In fact, I owe you that tour of Hogwarts. Will you be available next Saturday?"

Quin nodded. "I think so. I will be in Switzerland later in the week, but I should be back by then."

"I think Saturday might be a good day. The warding will be over, I think, and I will be the new Head of Gryffindor, if everything goes as planned. I will owl you that morning, if that is all right, and let you know whether you can come up that afternoon or whether it will have to wait for another day."

"Lovely, Minerva. I will look forward to your owl, then. You know, I may just send somethin' along for your Headmaster's birthday," Quin said, a speculative look in his eye. "Somethin' you could give him . . . if you want."

"What?" Minerva asked, slightly apprehensive.

"Mmm, I've noticed he has a bit of a sweet tooth. It wouldn't be anything that could rival your gift – I think that would be difficult t' do even if I wanted to. I just thought, a box o' sweets," he said with a shrug. "I have a Muggle candy factory, you see. They make some rather nice sweets, if I do say so meself."

"You have a candy factory," Minerva said.

"I do . . . me primary Muggle business, in fact. 'Tis me favourite, anyway." He looked down at her. "Would that be all right with you? If not – "

"No, that would be fine. Of course. He would probably enjoy that. It is a good idea," Minerva answered, still trying to comprehend that the wizard standing in front of her owned a Muggle candy factory.

"I'll make arrangements, then, t' get it to you," he said, suppressing a yawn.

"Thank you for coming today." In a rush of affection for the man who had helped her admit her feelings out loud, Minerva put an arm around him and gave him a hug. Quin put one arm around her and placed his other hand at the nape of her neck, and she relaxed against him for a moment. "You have been a comfort," she said as she drew away.

"As I told you before, that is what we are on this earth for, isn't it? To try, at least?"

"Yes, of course, but I am still grateful."

"Give my regards to Gertrude when she turns up."

"Oh, Gertrude!" Minerva said. "I almost forgot. I was going to try to find her and my brother."

"You go do that, then, love." Quin bent and gave her a peck on the forehead. "See you soon."

"Good night, Quin."

After Quin left, Minerva went out to the front of the house and wondered where Malcolm could have brought Gertrude. Minerva looked down at her robes and her shoes. She really wasn't dressed for walking along the cliffs, but hopefully the two hadn't gone far. Her hopes were met when, after walking for about five minutes in the direction she assumed Malcolm would go, she heard their voices heading toward her, and she sat down on a handy rock to wait for them. Minerva was only half-surprised to see that Gertrude was dressed in a pair of trousers, doubtless an old pair of Malcolm's that had been Transfigured to fit her, and had on his tweed jacket, which actually fit her rather well, though Minerva didn't think it had been Transfigured.

"There you are," Minerva said as they approached. She stood. "I was beginning to think that I would have to form a search party for you."

"Your brother was just showing me the McGonagall cliffs. I do see why you like them so well, Minerva. Then we sat and talked a while. I am sorry if we were rude to leave like that."

"No, not at all. I am just happy you had a good evening," Minerva said.

Gertrude smiled. "I did. This has been a very nice day. Thank you."

"Come on in. Quin asked me to give you his regards, by the way, Gertrude. He had to get home. Are you hungry? I could get us a bite of supper if you like," Minerva offered.

"Well . . . are you hungry, Malcolm?" Gertrude asked, turning toward the wizard. "I don't want to impose."

"I think I could manage something," he answered.

"And as my brother should have said, you would not be imposing, Gertrude. You are very welcome. Johannes returned to Hogwarts, but Poppy's still here, or she was when I left her in the garden, and I think that Melina and Brennan are actually going to stay the night, so they'll probably want some supper, too. And, of course, my parents and I have to eat. We would be happy to have you join us."

"Let's find them, then, and get us some supper," Malcolm said. "In fact, why don't I run on ahead. You two take your time." He turned to Gertrude. "And you may want to change before we eat." He Disapparated abruptly with a mild click, presumably popping into the garden to find the others.

Minerva looked at Gertrude, glancing at her clothes. "I assume that Malcolm loaned you the trousers and that your robes are in his old room."

"Yes," the older witch replied with a nod.

"Let's go up there, then, and you can freshen up before supper," Minerva said, and the two witches walked in comfortable silence back to the house.

Somehow, Minerva's questions didn't seem as pressing in the cool of the evening. And it was she with whom the Headmaster was having dinner on his birthday, not Gertrude. Whatever was or was not between the two of them, she had her own relationship with Albus, and it was something apart from his relationship with Gertrude. Birthday dinner with Albus. Albus's birthday. Minerva felt her envy of Gertrude melt away with that thought, and she turned to the older witch and smiled.

"I am very glad you came for tea today, Gertrude."

"I was pleased to be able to come," Gertrude replied.

"I hope my brother entertained you and didn't overtax your patience," Minerva commented.

"He is an interesting wizard," Gertrude said blandly.

Well, that was a noncommital answer, Minerva thought. "Did you enjoy the walk?"

"Very much. It is a beautiful spot. Quite wild. And isolated."

"Yes, and as a child, I loved it, but it was also a difficult place to grow up. I loved the house, and the hills, and the smell of the sea on the air, but I was practically an only child. Malcolm and Morgan were out of school and on their own while I was still small. Murdoch's first year at Hogwarts was the year I was born, so I only saw him during the holidays, and even though he was a good brother and tried to entertain me when he was home, the age difference was so great, he was hardly a playmate. My few cousins on my mother's side of the family were around the same age as my brothers, and they all lived in Aberdeen and Edinburgh. When my brothers were young, they would spend a few days at our cousins', or the cousins would come here, but it was different for me. Our closest wizarding neighbours, the Stoats, had two boys about my age, but they aren't within walking distance, and so even though my parents would bring me over there occasionally, they weren't what I could have called friends. Even after I got my own broom when I was eight, they didn't let me fly there on my own for another two years, and by then, I was practically ready to go to Hogwarts and I didn't have much in common with the boys, anyway. As a result, until I started school, I really didn't know many other children my own age and I didn't know how to relate to them. It was rather difficult for me at first."

"There were always cousins around when I was growing up, so even though my brother was ten years older than I, it didn't have the same effect. And we were on the Floo-Network by the time I was five or six, so there was a lot of visiting back and forth. I didn't like all of my cousins, but I did learn early on how to deal with them," Gertrude said. "You seemed well-integrated by the time you started Arithmancy, though, and, what was that girl's name, you used to spend a lot of time together, sit together in class?"

"Elizabeth Farnsdale?" Minerva asked. "She married and moved to New Zealand shortly after we left school. And we were closer, really, fourth and fifth year. Our interests diverged, you might say." Elizabeth had grown more interested in robes, make-up charms, and boys, and Minerva had begun her Animagus training.

"Mmm. That often happens. And there was the young man, Mr Murphy, Quin's cousin. I noticed when I chaperoned Hogsmeade visits that you two often went together."

"Yes. Well, as you know, he died during the war. But he was a good friend."

They reached the house and Minerva led Gertrude up the stairs and down the hall to her oldest brother's bedroom. Oddly, although he was the oldest and had spent the least time home after leaving Hogwarts, his room was the least changed of the four children's rooms. Peculiar pictures hung on the wall, and odd specimens, either desiccated or preserved in jars, decorated the shelves. There were only a few books remaining in the room, the others having been removed to the library long before. Malcolm travelled so much that he only had a dozen books or so in his flat. He enjoyed reading books as much as any McGonagall, but he didn't see the point in owning them when he could read those of others and not be weighed down by them, as he put it. Gertrude's robes were laid across the foot of the bed, the silvery blue of the silk garments contrasting sharply against the russet-coloured counterpane.

"Here you are. I'll have Fwisky bring you some towels. The bathroom is just next door. Help yourself to anything you need. You may also call Fwisky if you need something and can't find it." Minerva hesitated. "Would you like me to come fetch you? Or are you comfortable coming down on your own?"

"I'll be fine. Although . . . where will you be?" Gertrude asked.

"Why don't I just wait for you – I don't mind. My room is on the other side of the house, this floor, on the left. I'll wait there for you and leave my door open so you can find me easily."

Minerva waited in her room, resisting her urge to lie down, instead sitting at the desk. She also resisted the urge to take Albus's letters from her carpet bag and reread them. Her own behaviour confused her. She had invited Gertrude in order to try to find out something more about her relationship with Albus, had been annoyed when it appeared she wouldn't have that opportunity, but then when she was alone with her and could have asked her anything, she hadn't even discussed anything related to Hogwarts, let alone her Headmaster. Minerva sighed. It was probably best just to concentrate on her own relationship with Albus, such as it was. It wasn't as though she really had any chance to "win him over," as Quin had put it, so whether he was now, or ever had been, involved with Gertrude was completely irrelevant. It was more important that she nurture her friendship with him, and if, by some chance, Quin was right and Albus could develop feelings for her, return her love . . . .

Her windows looked out over the back gardens, and she could see Malcolm walking up the path toward the house, a spring in his step. He was alone, which led Minerva to believe that everyone else was still out in the gazebo, since when she and Gertrude had entered the house, she hadn't heard anyone in the library. A few minutes later, she heard Malcolm bounding up the stairs, and she left her room to intercept him. If Gertrude were dressing in his old room, she wouldn't want him to walk in on her, and Minerva didn't think she could count on Malcolm to have the sense to knock, not that she supposed he would notice if Gertrude were stark naked. He would probably just sit down begin telling one of his stories, utterly oblivious. He wasn't a complete barbarian, and as Poppy had said, Malcolm didn't have a mean bone in his body, but Minerva never really knew what to expect from him. More than thirty years of almost constant travel seemed to have gravely diminished his sense of decorum, if he had ever possessed any.

"Ah, Minerva! I was just looking for you and Gertrude." He frowned. "I thought you would be together. Has she left? I thought she was staying for supper."

"She's changing, as you suggested yourself." She went back into her bedroom and Malcolm followed.

"Still? How long does it take to throw on some robes?" Malcolm asked.

"I thought she might like to freshen up. After the walk you took her on, I thought it polite to offer."

"Oh, of course. Anyway, I just came up to tell you that Mother has arranged for supper in the gazebo." He looked around then took a seat on the bed. "Gertie said you were down in Cornwall for a few days."

Minerva nodded. "Yes. That is how I met Quin, actually. He was also a guest."

"I liked him," Malcolm said approvingly. "He's someone I wouldn't mind getting to know better. Too bad he had to leave. I am surprised you two are so . . . chummy."

"What do you mean by that?" Minerva asked, irritated.

Malcolm gave a half-shrug. "He seems to be . . . a lot of wizard, shall we say. And you haven't known him long, but you seem very familiar with him, considering what a short time you've been acquainted."

"As I said, we were both at the Gamps at the same time," Minerva answered, suppressing her annoyance and not wanting to elaborate on the reasons she had come to know him so well so quickly.

"Interesting place?" Malcolm asked, thankfully changing the topic.

"I suppose so. It's an old house. They have nice gardens, and Gertrude brought me on a hike out to a hill fort that is fairly intact."

"What are their wards like?"

"And precisely how should I know something like that? And why would you even ask?" Minerva thought her brother was becoming even more odd than she'd previously believed him to be. She doubted he had started to go in for burglary, but she couldn't imagine what would prompt such a question.

Malcolm flopped back on the bed and folded his arms above his head. "Just wondering. A lot of the old pureblood estates have very interesting wards. I heard from a little bird once that you knew a bit of something about wards. I thought you might have noticed them."

"I don't know where you would get that idea. I did my apprenticeship in Transfiguration. And I couldn't sense the wards even when I walked right through them." Minerva was perturbed. Had Gertrude said something to him about her work with Albus on the wards? Even her parents hadn't been told the entire reason she was going to spend the summer at Hogwarts before her seventh year. Only she, Gertrude, and Albus knew. And Dippet, of course. But there had been the people in that Ministry meeting who appeared to know something about her work with Albus – Minister Ouellette and possibly the Prime Minister, at least. Someone either had loose lips or Malcolm was just guessing. She didn't think that Gertrude would have said anything to him, particularly after only knowing him such a short time.

"Oh." He sounded disappointed. "So you wouldn't know if they had any creature barriers in place."

"No. I know that Gertrude said something about their Muggle-repelling wards being quite old and extensive, from before the Ministry began regulating them so closely, and, of course, they have Antiapparition wards. They extend a good ways out from the house, not like ours." He certainly had creatures and beasts on his mind a lot. "You should just ask Gertrude about any creature barriers."

"I was about to when we ran into you on our way back to the house," Malcolm replied, stretching. "I thought I'd be bored this evening, to be honest. No offense, little sister, but I didn't realise you had invited such interesting guests. I thought it was just going to be Poppy and people like that."

"Malcolm! Poppy is one of my best friends! And she is interesting." Minerva was annoyed with him. "I hope you don't say that sort of thing to others."

"I don't dislike Poppy. I didn't mean that. She is very nice. And . . . perky. And I was quite pleased to meet Quin – a very interesting chap, and certainly unusual. But I thought it would just be some staid old teachers from the school."

"So that's why you spent most of the evening with Gertrude, monopolising her conversation and Transfiguring trousers for her. You were waiting for the old Hogwarts teacher to begin displaying some staid behaviour," Minerva said sarcastically.

Malcolm laughed. "Actually, I was pleasantly surprised. For one thing, she appreciates my stories more than my little sister has since she's been all grown up and too serious for them. And Gertie's hardly old. And how do you know that she didn't Transfigure the trousers herself?"

"I can recognise a McGonagall Transfiguration, for one, and for another, Gertrude has told me that Transfiguration is not her strong suit, but it's something you find quite easy, even if your technique is sloppy."

"Very good, little sister. I was beginning to think you had become completely dull after all those years in the Ministry, then teaching at Hogwarts," he teased.

"Mmm, just because I couldn't sense the wards doesn't mean that I am utterly incompetent," Minerva answered mildly, not rising to his bait.

Malcolm subsided for a while, staring up at the ceiling, a blank expression on his face. Minerva was acquainted with that look. It often meant that he had forgotten he was in company at all, and might not utter another word until he suddenly rose and left the room without saying a thing to anyone. Peculiar wasn't sufficient to describe him, in Minerva's opinion.

"And why did I have to hear from someone else that you are going to be the next Gryffindor Head of House?" Malcolm asked abruptly.

"Oh, I was going to tell you today!" Minerva exclaimed. "I already told Melina, and she told Murdoch, of course. I suppose I also assumed you might have heard from Mother or Dad already."

"Well, my greatest wish for you is that you have only a few students a year who are like your dear brother. You need to be kept on your toes, but not run ragged," he said with a grin, turning his head to look at her.

There was a light knock at the door, and Gertrude stood there, dressed in her nice robes again and looking freshly coiffed, Malcolm's jacket folded over one arm.

"Did you find everything all right?" Minerva asked, standing.

"Yes, thank you. And Fwisky was helpful."

Malcolm sat up and stood in one fluid movement. "Ready to eat, then?" he asked as he reached out and took his jacket from Gertrude.

Gertrude nodded, and the three went down to the garden together to join the others and find their supper.