XCVIII: Warding

XCVIII: Warding

Minerva looked around the room. It seemed very empty. With a sigh, she waved her wand and brought the banner down, rolling it up simultaneously, then sent it over to sit on top of the basket of goodies. She placed a charm on the cake to keep it fresh and likewise sent that over to sit on top of the hamper. Blampa would take care of the dinner dishes, likely while Minerva was asleep. Albus's eyeglasses. He had forgotten them, left them beside his place. Well, he probably had another pair. Wilspy could fetch these when she came for his other things. Minerva picked up the glasses and brought them over to the coffee table and set them down not far from the basket where Wilspy would be sure to see them.

Minerva went straight to the bathroom and undressed. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, used the loo, and finished getting ready for bed without glancing toward the bathtub and its decorated tiles. She didn't believe she could bear the sight of them just then. Picking up her robes and her discarded underwear, she padded into her bedroom. Her first night in her new quarters, and her feelings were in such a muddle . . . she saw Albus's robes lying across her bed and a lump rose in her throat. Quickly, she turned away and opened her new wardrobe. It took Minerva a moment to find her nightgown, and by the time she did, she had successfully dismissed the lump in her throat.

She pulled her nightgown on, then turned around and looked at the robes again. Minerva sighed. If only their presence there meant something other than what they did . . . if only Albus were going to walk through her bedroom door and join her, even just for sleep, to be wrapped in his arms . . . . But he didn't love her. And he never would.

Albus was fond of her. Very fond of her. Minerva blinked and tears slowly ran down her face. At least she hadn't been fool enough to confess that she was in love with him. But she remembered how he had stiffened, then patted her back and told her he was very fond of her, too . . . he had been kind, but he clearly had been surprised by her words, uncomfortably surprised. But how could he have been? Shouldn't it be obvious to him that she loved him, even if she hid from him the precise nature of her love?

She should fold his robes, put them with his hamper of sweets, Minerva thought as she reached out a hand to touch them. She had been so certain that he loved her, at least a little, but his awkward reaction . . . more tears coursed down her cheeks. Minerva let out a shaky breath and tried to control her feelings, but as she lifted the pink and gold robes to her face and inhaled his scent, she burst into tears. She lay down on her bed, holding the robes to her, and she wept.

It had been a successful evening, Minerva told herself even as she wept into the soft robes. He had liked her present and had been pleased with the surprise birthday celebration. And he had kissed her again before he left that night. Perhaps . . . her mother had said that it hadn't mattered how Albus had viewed their relationship when he staunched her magical drain; all that had mattered was his love for her. Could it be that he didn't view her as someone whom he loved, but that he still did? Perhaps he had just never really thought about it before, about his feelings for her. Or could it be that Quin was right, and Albus did love her as she loved him, or was coming to, anyway, and that he was uncomfortable with it and didn't know how to act?

Minerva didn't know, but she was so tired, so very tired, tired of needing him, wanting him, craving his word, his touch, and yet pretending that she didn't, that he was just someone who was a good friend. But that was what she was to him. He had once written that he enjoyed her "friendly companionship." Friendly companionship . . . . Exhausted and confused, Minerva fell asleep clutching Albus's robes to her.

Albus went up his backstairs directly to his bedroom. He was exhausted, and he knew that a part of his exhaustion was emotional and not merely physical. He sat down on the edge of his bed and toed off his shoes. It hadn't been much of an exaggeration when he had told Minerva that he didn't want to take the robes off. They felt very nice, but beyond that, they had been a gift from her. He had scarcely been able to believe his eyes when he had opened the box and saw what lay within.

Albus shook his head. He could only imagine what these robes must have cost Minerva, but just as he had been about to say something about them being too much, that he couldn't possibly accept them, he had seen her face, and he knew that such a remark would crush her, and be to no point, anyway, since he would relent at the slightest sign of disappointment from her. She would no doubt have seen the rejection of her gift as a rejection of their friendship . . . of all the years of their friendship. And he did love the robes and he certainly didn't want her to believe that he was rejecting her gesture of gratitude and affection, so he accepted them with what he hoped was good grace. Nonetheless, these must certainly rank amongst the most expensive of any robes that Madam Malkin had ever made. The Demiguise silk alone would double the price of an ordinary garment, then the distinctive styling added to that, and once the charms were placed on the robes . . . they were no doubt three times the price, at least, of his most expensive set of robes.

He had tried so hard to behave properly that evening, to show her affection and yet not inappropriately so . . . and then she had brought out the cake with its three candles, and that gesture had overwhelmed him and his good sense. It was just for a moment, but she had said, "Make a wish, Albus!" and in that moment, his good sense fled him, and his wish had been one he shouldn't have made. Still, it was only a wish, he had told himself, and if wishes were broomsticks, beggars would ride. But then, after he had thanked her for the robes, and he was embracing her there on the sofa, she had said it. "I love you, Albus." And in that instant, he feared that somehow his wish had had the force of a spell, and it had taken him a moment to collect himself and tell himself that that was a foolish notion. Wishing for her love, as childish and ill-conceived as it had been, could not have induced Minerva to say those words. Certainly, everything that she had done that evening had showed him that she loved him before he had ever formed that wish in his mind. Perhaps it had even been her actions that had caused him to conceive the wish, as he subconsciously realised what her actions meant. But then he reminded himself that her love for him was the love of a . . . granddaughter for a grandfather or of a former student for a dear old mentor, and he knew immediately that he could not utter the same words to her. If he did, he would mean them quite differently than she did, and he might not be able to stop himself from saying them in such a way that she could not mistake his meaning. And even if he did succeed in uttering the words in a neutral tone, it was one step on the path that he could not allow himself to take. It would lead only to heartache and embarrassment . . . and the loss of her friendship. At least the loss of the friendship they had now, as Minerva's feelings would be mixed with pity and revulsion. And even if she felt compassion for him, and not mere pity, it couldn't help but change their friendship.

Albus could no more speak of his love for her than he could hope that her love for him would ever be anything other than that of one friend for another. He was one hundred-seventeen that day. And Minerva but thirty-two. He would have to be entirely deluded to believe that anyone that young, and that intelligent, could ever be in love with him, someone old enough to be her great-grandfather, let alone that she could desire him physically. But at least Minerva did love him as a friend, and that was very good, though the thought seemed to break his heart.

Albus began to get ready for bed, draping the new robes over a chair for the night. He didn't want to close them into the wardrobe just yet. As he went through his nightly routine, he realised he had left his glasses in Minerva's sitting room. Fortunately, he had a spare pair in his study. He would have to ask Wilspy to fetch his glasses for him at the same time that she retrieved his robes and his large basket of sweets. Quin certainly had been generous. Even if he shared the candy with everyone who passed through his office, it would take him quite a long time to go through all of that. He was looking forward to it, though, but with less enthusiasm than he might have.

Finally in his nightshirt and slippers, he called for Wilspy, and his loyal little elf promised him that she would fetch everything for him. Hoping for a restful night's sleep, Albus climbed into bed and extinguished the lights. Across the room, stars glowed dimly, his eyes grew heavy as he gazed on them, and he drifted to sleep.

In the very early hours of the morning, a little house-elf Apparated into Minerva's rooms. She looked around and saw the basket, the cake, the banner, and the eyeglasses. No robes. The elf popped quietly into Minerva's bedroom. Her expression softened as she looked at Minerva, asleep on top of the made bed, holding the rose and gold robes tightly, her head nestled on them.

Wilspy crooked a finger, and Minerva was now under the covers. The sleeping witch didn't even stir. Wilspy approached the bed. She put out one long finger and brushed Minerva's hair back from her face.

Caressing Minerva's cheek lightly, the wizened old elf whispered, "Sweet dreams, Professor's Minerva. Sweet dreams for you . . ."

And Wilspy popped away, to return in the morning when Professor's Minerva was awake and to retrieve Master Albus's things then. . . .

Minerva's eyes opened. Merlin! Why hadn't she closed the draperies before she'd gone to bed! She had been having the most lovely dream . . . she didn't even remember getting into bed the night before, but she must have. She did remember her dream, however, and she was still throbbing and warm from it . . . it seemed like one in a long series of similar dreams. Minerva blushed.

She rolled over, bringing the rose and gold robes with her. Minerva certainly didn't remember bringing the robes to bed with her. Right now, though, that fact didn't bother her at all. Instead, she closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. Such a wonderful dream it had been . . .

She and Albus had been in her sitting room, dancing, much as they had the previous evening, but it wasn't the lively tune that had come on the wireless then, but something soft, slow, and romantic. He was wearing the robes she had given him for his birthday, and she rested her cheek against his chest as they danced, the star-filled silk soft against her skin. Albus brought his hand from her waist, up her back, and then caressed her face and lifted it toward him, one finger under her chin. He whispered, "I love you, too, my dear Minerva," and then he kissed her, ever so gently, on the lips.

Minerva sighed as she remembered with utter clarity the way the dream had proceeded. She had responded, "I thought you did not," and Albus said, "How could I do anything other than love you, my dearest?" and he kissed her again. He continued to kiss her as he lowered her to the sofa, her lips, her cheeks, her neck, and then he looked at her lying there beneath him, and he said, "I will love you forever and nothing can stop me loving you."

He whispered a spell that dream Minerva did not catch, and her robes were loose around her. Albus looked at her, then looked into her eyes as he brought one hand to her throat, caressing downward toward her breast. His hand began to reach beneath the silk of her robe to touch her, but he stopped. "Never without your permission, my love," and she had said, "Please," and he had moved the gown aside and closed his eyes as he fondled her breast, and Minerva watched his face as he did. His expression was one of bliss as he freed her other breast and caressed that one in turn, his fingers grazing her peaked nipple.

Lying in bed, Minerva brought her own hand up to stroke her breast through her thin nightgown. In her dream, Albus had embraced her with one arm as he lifted her toward him and gently teased her breast with his other hand. He kissed her lips again, and she responded, putting her arms around him, one hand winding itself in the hair at the back of his head. The dream had continued, Albus slowly undressing her, uncovering her body to his touch and his gaze, seeking her permission at each point until she finally begged him to continue and not stop; he had her permission for everything, for anything.

Albus kissed every inch of her, it seemed in the dream, whispering words of love and adoration, and then he asked for one last permission from her, and when she gave it breathlessly, he stood and removed his own robes. Standing naked before her, he was beautiful. Albus lay down on top of her, kissing her, and she felt the warmth of his skin on her own, the weight of his body, and his magic mingling with hers, till finally he rose up slightly, lifting his hips, and then he entered her. He entered very, very slowly, and Minerva watched his face as he did, her own mouth open as she panted her desire. And when they were one, he continued to make love to her, whispering endearments and words of passion. It seemed to go on and on, and in her dream, Minerva exploded with fire, and as she did, she woke to the same fire, and to the morning sunlight in her eyes.

Minerva felt this had not been the only dream that she had had that night, that there had been others, and that they had all been erotic dreams of Albus. Her mind had certainly created a most magnificent Albus standing beside her at the sofa; she could almost imagine that it had been memory rather than dream that had created that vision of Albus without his robes, it was so vivid, but, of course, that was sadly not the case.

Minerva brought Albus's rose and gold robes to her face. It was likely a result of falling asleep holding his robes. She sighed deeply. Time to return to reality; Minerva swung her feet out of bed and got up, leaving the robes tangled in her sheets. She showered and dressed rapidly. It was time for her walk, and time for her to put foolish dreams from her mind. They would only increase her desire for what she could not have.

As she folded the robes and cast a freshness charm on them to remove any possible sign that she had slept with them – it had been unintentional, but still embarrassing – Minerva realised that she felt much better now, and remembering her tears from the previous night, she wondered at them. Albus had, after all, said that he was very fond of her too. Not "instead." It had been a perfectly normal response. And "very fond" could be love. Love of some sort. Albus had enjoyed his birthday party, he had liked his presents, and he had accepted the very extravagant robes with hardly a qualm. He had been stunned, but she hadn't heard one word of genuine protest, as she had feared she might, let alone an out-and-out rejection of them. If Albus believed that she was growing too attached to him, and it made him uncomfortable, he would surely have refused the robes, or at least made an attempt to do so. And he had kissed her cheek again before he left.

Albus didn't feel toward her as she did toward him, but they were still very close, and at least now he knew that she loved him. Minerva couldn't honestly say that she was happy in that moment, but the heartbreak of the night before had dissipated, and she was ready to face her day.

She still had a few hours before she was to join everyone – Albus, Gertrude, and the current Heads of House – in the Headmaster's Tower. Time for breakfast and a walk, though she wasn't sure whether her moving about on the grounds was a good idea if they were renewing the wards. She certainly should not try to leave the grounds, that much she did know. Probably best just to stay in, read a book . . . she could take a walk tomorrow. Minerva smiled. Her first morning as Gryffindor Head of House. Perhaps Albus would congratulate her this evening. He certainly seemed pleased she had accepted the position; it could be he was just waiting until she was installed to actually congratulate her. With that thought in mind, she placed the folded robes on the coffee table beside Albus's eyeglasses and called Blampa for her breakfast.

As Minerva ate her breakfast, mechanically chewing her toast and eating her egg, there was a slight crack, and Wilspy appeared across the room.

"Good morning, Professor Minerva!" the house-elf greeted her cheerfully.

"Good morning, Wilspy," Minerva responded. "I put everything together for you. Professor Dumbledore left his glasses last night."

"Thank you, Professor Minerva." Wilspy trotted over to where the hamper sat. "Did Professor Minerva have nice night? Sweet sleep?"

Minerva coloured mildly, remembering her dreams from the night before. "Very well, thank you, Wilspy. And may I thank you for helping to prepare Professor Dumbledore's dinner last night – it was very good and he enjoyed it."

"You is welcome, Professor's Minerva," Wilspy said with a wrinkly smile. "I is happy you and your Professor has a very good dinner with nice surprises."

"It was . . ." Minerva hesitated. Would Albus have said anything to his house-elf about the dinner? Probably not.

"Professor Dumbledore is very happy with Professor Minerva's present," Wilspy said with the same wrinkly little grin. "Very happy."

Minerva smiled. "I am glad. Do you know if they've begun the warding yet?"

"Professor Dumbledore is in Hogwarts Heart, but he be's alone now. Soon soon, though," answered the elf. "Good morning, Professor's Minerva!"

"Good morning," Minerva answered before Wilspy Apparated away, bringing Albus's basket, robes, glasses, and other items with her.

Hogwarts Heart was a room in the Headmaster's Tower. It wasn't literally the physical centre of the castle, but it was the magical centre of the castle, and when the Headmaster or his proxy wanted to make extensive changes to the wards, that is where it was usually done. Minor changes and slight tweaks could be made from almost anywhere on the grounds, and ones that affected only parts of the school were often best done in close proximity to the area to be warded, but Hogwarts Heart was one of the parts of the castle that had changed little since the Founders' time, and it held special properties.

When she was a student and had helped Professor Dumbledore test the wards, he had explained to her that the physical location of Hogwarts Heart had been moved, very carefully, more than six hundred years before, to reside in the Headmaster's Tower, rather than in the centre of the dungeons, where it had been for the previous few centuries. Dumbledore had been very complimentary about the work that the then-Headmistress had taken at the time of the move to ensure that it remained the magical centre of the school despite its physical relocation, unlike the sloppy work done by Phineas Nigellus when he attempted to simplify the ward renewal process and merely succeeded in damaging the wards.

To reach the Heart of Hogwarts, one entered the library located just off the Headmaster's Office, then took a flight of steps down to the level just underneath the office and library. The large round room was windowless, but with a touch of the Headmaster's wand, the walls became transparent. Even more amazing to young Minerva, however, was the control that the Headmaster – or in this instance, Professor Dumbledore – had over the view presented through the invisible walls. The perspectives could be manipulated so that one could get close-up views of the various areas of the Hogwarts grounds, and when Dumbledore waved his wand and the landscape changed to show the grounds rapidly moving from summer to spring then to winter, autumn, and summer again, Minerva was astounded. He explained that there were limits to how one could manipulate what the walls displayed – the presentation of the past seasons could not be slowed sufficiently to see detailed events that had occurred during that time, for example, and it could only reach back thirteen moons and no further – but the images that were generated could be magically recorded so that there could be an archive of changes made to the grounds and outbuildings over the years.

In the centre of the room was a large, ornately carved stone table, veins of green, white, and grey running through the shiny red stone. The top was not, however, flat, but slightly concave, and with a murmured spell and the brush of his wand across the edge of the table, Dumbledore called up a detailed three-dimensional image of the castle as seen from the outside. It hovered above the surface of the table, and Minerva watched, spell-bound, as Professor Dumbledore, with waves and twists of his wand, enlarged various parts of the castle to see them better or removed portions of it to reveal the castle's interior. This image of Hogwarts castle was a static representation of the building as it was in that moment, showing the locations of all the rooms, staircases, and corridors, and, when the correct spell was cast, also showing the colourful, glowing lines that represented Hogwarts magic and its wards. When Dumbledore had revealed all of the magic and every ward simultaneously, Minerva had had to close her eyes against the sudden glare that flared up in that dimly lit chamber. He removed layer after layer of magic visible, then added some back, showing Minerva how the wards were tied together and anchored to the castle, and how the magic all flowed to and through the Heart of Hogwarts – or how it was supposed to. Some of the wards that had not been properly integrated because of Phineas Nigellus's changes seemed to have frayed ends that approached but did not reach the Heart. As Dumbledore or any other Headmaster or Headmistress manipulated the wards or the magical field, the results could be seen reflected in the comparatively small image that floated above the table. The work itself was done on the actual castle, not on the castle that floated before them, he had explained, which was only a reflection of reality.

Minerva was to meet everyone in the Heart of Hogwarts at ten o'clock, where she could observe the beginning of the House warding, then she would accompany Wilhelmina to Gryffindor Tower and observe as she reinforced the warding there and that portion of the portrait network. Once that was complete, there was only a little work left for the Headmaster and his Deputy, and they would all join Albus and Gertrude in his sitting room for a late lunch at two o'clock.

Minerva dutifully arrived in the Headmaster's office a few minutes before ten, then made her way down to the Heart chamber. It looked as though they were taking a break before continuing. Albus was wearing his Hogwarts Headmaster robe over a set of plain black robes, she noticed. He rarely wore the Headmaster robe, and had only seen him in it once before, at the Leaving Feast in June. Dippet had worn his at least weekly, she remembered, and understood that Headmasters and Headmistresses past had worn them daily. Each successive Headmaster or Headmistress had their own robe made for them, the only consistency among them being that the main fabric was always black and there was always some symbol of all four Houses somewhere on the robe. Dippet's robe had been heavy satin and velvet, black on black, with an embroidered badge displaying the coats of arms of each of the four Houses on it, and a matching heavy hood and sash. Albus's robe was soft black silk with heavier black silk brocade down the front, at the wrists, and at the hem. The hood was also of black silk, but with an interior of shiny bands of scarlet, green, azure, and black, four of the individual House colours. The brocade was decorated with repeated woven and embroidered designs of the badger, the snake, the lion, and the eagle, the four House totems, and on each breast were four small embroidered badges, one for each house, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, arranged in a diamond pattern, Slytherin at the bottom, Ravenclaw at the top, and Hufflepuff and Gryffindor on either side.

The other teachers greeted her with friendly nods or murmured "hellos," except for Dustern, who gave her a rather cold look then turned away. Gertrude just nodded stiffly, and Albus gave her a slight smile and indicated where she could stand to observe the next phase. It was interesting for Minerva to watch the six of them work together, coordinating the spells, their wandwork looking almost like an unusual and complex dance, as they lent their magic to Hogwarts to support and reinforce the wards for another year. She followed Wilhelmina back to Gryffindor Tower to observe her work on the House wards and the portrait network.

"I hear Dumbledore did some work on your rooms before you moved in," Wilhelmina said as they climbed the stairs to the seventh floor.

"Yes, he did. It was quite good of him," Minerva said, hoping that Wilhelmina didn't feel as though she had been neglected. Apparently she had just moved into the rooms as they were when she became Head of House, and nothing had been done to them at all.

"They did need something doing to them," Wilhelmina said heartily. "If I had been going to stay in them much longer, I would have asked him to fix them up, myself. But with Dippet dying in the middle of the year like he did, and Dumbledore being so busy those first few months – well, really, for the first year – I felt lucky just to be able to have the house-elves find the time to clean them before I moved in. Then once I was there, I just got used to them. And," she said in a conspiratorial whisper, "between you and me, I was hoping I wouldn't be Head of House long enough to really feel driven to have them changed. Just as well, too, since now they could be altered to suit you."

Minerva smiled. "Well, they were rather neglected. I can only imagine what they were like when you first took them, since they hadn't been used in almost twenty years."

The two witches went to the portrait of the Fat Lady and gave the password, currently, "Welsh Green," and entered the dormitory.

"You can actually do this from anywhere in the Tower, but I always do it from the common room – seems easier to concentrate on the wards that way. I must say that this isn't my forté; I am not too bad when it comes to standard defensive spells and Healing charms for beasts, and, of course, your basic, everyday sorts of things, but this . . . it requires a delicate magical touch that I don't think I have, let alone the control. Yes, it's the control that's the hardest for me. I'm quite done in by the time we're finished. We did a rewarding just a few days after Dippet died – having a Headmaster die in office can be stressful on the castle's magic, apparently – then we did the one last summer, and both of them exhausting. I am amazed to see what Dumbledore does. Can't imagine how Dippet managed it – he was never a particularly talented or powerful wizard, I never thought – but Slughorn told me that that's one reason Dumbledore was brought in to be his Deputy, to compensate for it or something, and to add new wards during the Grindelwald era."

Minerva pretended that everything Wilhelmina was telling her about Dumbledore was news to her, though she knew the full truth behind Albus's work on the wards and the fact that, as far as the wards were concerned, he was always the proxy for the Headmaster, and not just when Dippet wasn't in residence.

The work in Gryffindor Tower took only a little over an hour and a half, Wilhelmina consulting a very large, old book from time to time to see what her next step was or to check an archaic incantation. When she was finished, she hefted the heavy, oversized book and handed it to Minerva.

"You're in charge of this now – or you will be in a few hours, anyway – you might as well take it. It's usually kept in the Headmaster's library, but you can borrow it and look at it at any time, and you probably will want to look through it after you've been installed. I added my little bit of notes to the end of it last night, so I'm finished with it now."

Minerva looked at the tome that Wilhelmina had just passed her. It was covered in faded scarlet leather, the image of the Gryffindor lion embossed upon its front, and had a latch holding it shut. Minerva pressed the latch, but nothing happened.

"Once you are installed as Head and the Gryffindor rolls have accepted you as the next Head of Gryffindor, you can just touch the latch and it will open. Until then . . . there is a password." Wilhelmina only hesitated slightly. "It was impressed upon me most strongly that one did not share the password lightly, but as you are the next Head and will have it in a few hours anyway, along with free access to the contents of the book . . . it's just 'cor audacissimum.' Just say the words as you touch the latch."

Minerva did just that, and the book's latch fell open and she lifted the front cover. The first pages she could see were written by Godric Gryffindor himself, and Minerva could scarcely wait to have time alone to read it.

"The details of the warding begin about ten pages in, and whenever a Head wants to add anything to that section, the book makes room for more notes. I haven't been here long enough to add anything to that bit, but every Head of House has added other notes from time to time about their tenure and anything that they wish to pass on to future generations. That's what I did last night, although I didn't have very much to say, I'm afraid. But it was still an honour to be Head of Gryffindor, even if just for a year and a half, and I hope that my efforts were . . . worthy."

Minerva invited Wilhelmina to her sitting room for a cup of tea while they waited for lunch. Wilhelmina admired the changes and, to Minerva's relief, showed not a sign of envy or jealousy, although she did ooh and ah over the bathroom and separate loo, saying that was the one thing she wished that she had had changed when she had moved in.

A little before two o'clock, the two witches returned to the Headmaster's office. It appeared they were the first to arrive.

Minerva started up the steps to his suite, when Wilhelmina cried out in warning, "Wait! Don't go any farther. The sixth step is charmed like the stairs to the Gryffindor girls' dormitory."

"Oh, um, when I was assisting Dumbledore when Pretnick was bitten, I had to be able to access his suite, so it's not a problem. I'll just go up and see if he's here, shall I?" Minerva responded, glad that she was able to hide her blush. It seemed that very few members of the staff had been given automatic entry to the suite, even if they were Heads of House.

"I usually just ask one of the portraits to announce me, or Dumbledore comes down himself just as I'm arriving. Seems to know somehow when someone's here,"

"Does he? Well, with so many folk in and out today, perhaps I ought to go up and check, unless you'd prefer to send a portrait?" Minerva asked.

"No, go on ahead. I'll wait here. Others will be arriving shortly."

Minerva went up to the sitting room to find Gertrude stretched out on the couch. The witch sat up when Minerva entered.

"Good afternoon, Minerva. You are the first to arrive. Albus had a brief . . . task, but he should be available soon."

"Actually, Professor Grubbly-Plank was with me, but the stairs . . ."

"Ah, yes. The stairs. I've told Albus he really needs to get a different system . . ." Gertrude shook her head. "We can go down and wait with her until the others come and Albus is available to invite them up."

It struck Minerva that Gertrude was looking tired, and though she had tried to appear animated when she sat up, it looked to Minerva as though it had taken most of her energy.

"There's no need for you to come down, Gertrude. I'm happy to go and keep her company, and any others who arrive in the meantime."

Gertrude stood. "No, it would be ill-mannered of me."

Minerva shrugged. It was up to her, after all. The two returned to the office, where they were soon joined by the other three Heads of House. They hadn't long to wait before Albus appeared at the top of the stairs and called down to them and invited them all to join him for lunch.

At lunch, Minerva learned that James had agreed to become Hufflepuff's Head of House, and he would be returning to Hogwarts at the beginning of the week for his installation as he had been unable to be there that day for the warding. Minerva tried to feel comfortable among her colleagues, and she was glad to be seated at the round table between Johannes and Wilhelmina, but Dustern kept giving her peculiar looks throughout the meal. Just as Minerva would convince herself that it was her imagination, the witch would look at her again. It wasn't a look of hatred, Minerva decided, nor even dislike; it was more one of disgust. But since the bony witch never said anything to her, and very little to anyone else, and was outwardly polite, Minerva was uncertain what the meaning was behind the disgusted glances that she kept casting in her direction. Albus was seated between Slughorn and Gertie and appeared to be his usual congenial self. Slughorn was effusive, as usual, and talked at great length about his niece's wedding, then went on to describe a "comely widow" whom he had met at the reception, a relative of his niece's new husband. She was the embodiment of every grace and feminine charm, to hear him tell it.

Gertrude was quiet, but Minerva thought that the older witch still looked more tired than usual . . . and somewhat drawn. In accordance with her resolution to begin to treat the Arithmancy teacher as more than just an object of her jealousy, Minerva decided that she should have a talk with her and find out if everything were well. Perhaps there had been a set-back with Thea, or with her father's health. It would be like her to come to the warding, despite the fact that her presence wasn't strictly necessary since the Headmaster was there and the four Houses were represented, even if there were some personal problem in her life. She certainly didn't look like the well-rested and content witch who had left her tea party just days before. Minerva wondered whether she had a family problem or whether she might even be ill herself.

Before dessert was served, their glasses were all refilled, and Albus stood and thanked Professor Dustern for her many years of devoted service to the school and to her House, and raised his glass in toast to her. The toast made and politely accepted by the former Charms teacher, dessert appeared on the table, individual berry tarts with cream. Minerva loved berry tarts, and was pleased to accept Wilhelmina's as well as her own.

"I hate to leave early, Professor," Wilhelmina said, addressing Dumbledore, "but Brutus isn't well and I promised Hagrid I would check on him again this afternoon." In response to Gertrude's inquiry, she added, "I think it's just old age, and there's not much to be done for the dog, but I hope that with some care, he might live a few more comfortable months, at least."

Minerva was saddened for Hagrid. Losing both his "Meena-bird" and his canine companion within a few months of each other, it wouldn't be easy for him.

Minerva finished eating both tarts, feeling a little greedy, but it wouldn't do to have such a nice tart go to waste. Slughorn excused himself politely, saying that he would see them later, Minerva presumed at her installation. Minerva got up and approached Albus.

"Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes, Professor?" Albus asked with a smile.

"Will you be needing me the rest of the afternoon? If you do – "

"No, not at all. Just come up to the office at eight o'clock. It is a brief process, as I explained to you on Wednesday. It shouldn't even take your entire evening," Albus said.

"That wasn't my concern, Professor. I just wondered if there were anything – " Minerva began.

"Nothing at the moment, my dear. Thank you for attending the warding today."

"It was very interesting. Wilhelmina gave me the Gryffindor book. I thought I might look at that this afternoon."

"That's fine. Be sure to bring it with you this evening, though."

Minerva nodded. She looked over at Gertrude, hoping to speak with her and ask her how she was, but she was conversing in low tones with Johannes, and as she didn't appear to be very happy, it didn't seem like a good moment to intrude, so she went downstairs to the office. She took a seat in one of the armchairs by the fireplace, thinking that she could catch the Deputy Headmistress on her way out – provided, of course, that she left relatively soon.

Hearing footsteps on the brass stairs, Minerva looked up, but it was Professor Dustern, likely leaving for the very last time. She wondered how the witch felt about leaving Hogwarts, and whether she had any regrets about it.

"So, waiting for your mentor?" Dustern asked her as she reached the bottom of the stair. It was apparently a rhetorical question, for the witch did not wait for an answer. "I never approved of the way he treated you when you were a student here. Giving you ideas. Better than everyone else, you thought you were, with your special tutorials and extra privileges. And of course you were Head Girl. Never doubted you would be, not with him Head of Gryffindor and Dippet's Deputy, and you his little star. Never any question about it. Didn't approve of it then, don't approve of it now. And it won't get you anywhere, you know. Not in the end. And certainly not with him, no matter the . . . hero you think him to be. He's just a wizard – just a wizard like any other. He gave you expectations, I suppose, and now you think you're collecting on them. Head of Gryffindor. At your age. Didn't approve of your appointment as Transfiguration teacher, but wasn't my place to say, but I saw this coming. Only logical – he wants his little group of followers around him. You, Gertrude – although that witch should know better after all these years, and what has she got? Less than I. He has his little friend teaching Charms now. Good for him. At least he's competent, I suppose. But don't think you'll ever get any more from Dumbledore, or that you're his favourite – or that even being his favourite counts for anything. He'll always put himself and this school above you – and probably more than just the school, too. Don't think you'll be getting any favours from him that won't cost you. And one day, you won't be young and pretty, but you'll still be waiting on him hand and foot, glad of it when he offers you a Peppermint Pillow or a Chocolate Frog. You should have stayed at the Ministry, girl. At least some of your achievements might have been gained on your own merits there, and you might have had a life. But you're cut from the same cloth, the both of you, and I'm glad I won't be here to see what comes of this . . . imprudent decision."

Minerva sat through this coolly delivered speech – had it been delivered with any passion, she could have called it a tirade – completely taken aback. She had no idea that Dustern had any such feelings about her or her appointment or even the Headmaster, despite what Albus had told her. Then suddenly, seemingly out of no where, Gertrude was behind the Charms teacher, laying her hand on the witch's shoulder and spinning her around.

"I have treated you with the respect due you as a colleague and a professional, but now – " Gertrude was white and trembled as though restraining herself " – now I will have no compunction about tossing you down those stairs and out past the gargoyle if you do not leave immediately. You may feel free to insult my friends – and Professor McGonagall has never treated you with anything less than respect, which should shame you – but now I feel free to take any measures necessary to keep you from saying another word!"

Dustern pushed Gertrude's hand from her shoulder, opened her mouth, and made a single sound. Minerva was impressed with the speed with which Gertrude drew her wand and cast a Silencio.

"That will wear off in an hour or so – now, unless you wish to discover whether or not I can still remember how to cast a Petrificus Totalus and a Mobilicorpus, I suggest you leave under your own power right now."

Dustern was red with rage, but she stormed out of the office, attempting to slam the door behind her. Unfortunately for her, the door had an Unslammable Charm on it, and it merely clicked quietly.

"I am sorry, Minerva."

"Why? I mean, why are you sorry when you did nothing wrong, and why did Dustern say all those things?"

"Why am I sorry?" The grey-haired witch gave a wry smile. "I suppose Albus has rubbed off on me. But I am sorry, in the sense that I wish you hadn't been subjected to that. And Dustern . . . Dustern always believed that Albus had too much influence on Dippet, but she never knew the truth of his position here, so that is one reason it appeared the way it did to her. But also . . . I think she had actually hoped you might go into Charms, odd though that might sound. And, as Head of Hufflepuff, she chafed at what she saw as an unfair Gryffindor bias, never mind the fact that Dippet himself was a Hufflepuff, or that just as many Ravenclaws and Slytherins received particular . . . favours, I suppose you could call them." Gertrude shrugged. "I actually think the root of it is really very simple, though. Albus rubbed her the wrong way . . . she didn't like the apparent ease with which he dealt with difficult situations, or his ability to maintain an air of good cheer despite problems and troubles around him. She misunderstood his attitude and believed that it indicated indifference and a lack of feeling, which I think you and I both know is far from the truth. And it didn't help that, through her mother's mother, she is distantly related to Albus's wife. His late wife. I doubt she knows much more than that Dervilia died alone, in a miscarriage, whilst Albus was away. But that knowledge did not predispose her to view any of his actions favourably."

Minerva was about to ask another question when Gertrude seemed to sway slightly and took hold of the back of a chair.

"Are you all right? You should sit down. You don't look well," Minerva said, furrowing her brow in worry.

"I am fine . . . merely a little tired. And I do not often lose my temper. I find it unhealthy," Gertrude smiled slightly. "For the people around me, that is."

Minerva chuckled. "You know, I was actually waiting here for you, wondering if you would like to come see my new rooms. But if you are tired, it can wait for another day."

"I am tired, but I think I would enjoy seeing your rooms. Albus was quite pleased with himself yesterday afternoon when he told me about them. I am curious."