XCIX: Head of Gryffindor

XCIX: Head of Gryffindor

Minerva could tell that Gertrude was trying to give the appearance of energy as they walked back to her new rooms, but on the climb up the stairs from the second floor to the seventh, she seemed to get winded. Minerva stopped on the landing at the fifth floor.

"I'm not sure I'm used to these stairs, yet," Minerva said. "I'd like to catch my breath a bit."

Gertrude quirked a brief smile and said, "You mean you're stopping for the old lady."

"You're hardly old, Gertrude," Minerva replied. The witch was somewhere in her early sixties, Minerva believed. "But I have noticed you are somewhat tired today. And it is true that I am not yet used to climbing all the way to the seventh floor to my rooms yet."

Gertrude's cheek twitched in a semblance of a smile, and she began to climb the stairs again. Minerva didn't say anything and tried not to watch the Arithmancy teacher. When they reached Minerva's rooms, she almost hesitated to give her password in her normal tone, but Gertrude had done so at her rooms when she had been present, so Minerva uttered her new password, "protinus," normally and the portrait clicked her door open.

"Have a seat, Gertrude. Would you like anything to drink? Tea?" Minerva asked.

"No, thank you, Minerva. My, this is a nice room." She sat on the sofa and ran her hand over the fabric. "I like your Scottish theme – but he didn't overdo it," Gertrude said with a grin.

Minerva sat in the armchair next to her guest. "No, he didn't. I was a little worried he might make everything tartan – and not matching tartans, either – so I was pleased."

"So, do I get the grand tour?" Gertrude asked brightly.

"Of course – but if you'd like to rest a moment first – "

"It's only a few rooms, Minerva. I'm hardly likely to fall over in exhaustion," Gertrude responded with a short laugh.

Minerva bit back her concern. It really wasn't any of her business why Gertie was so tired, and if she wasn't going to say anything, it would be impolite to press her about it, so she simply stood.

"Well, as you can see, this is my sitting room. I have a rather nice view of the grounds from here, and an even better one from my study, which is through here." Minerva led her guest into the other room.

"No variation on red and gold?" Gertrude asked.

Minerva shrugged. "There's some in the chair coverings, but I'm actually glad he chose these colours. I think that red could be distracting in the study. This is more restful, I think, more conducive to working."

Gertrude nodded. "Which of your fireplaces is on the internal Floo-Network," she asked, "this one or the one in the sitting room?"

Minerva stopped, mouth open for a moment. "You know, I am not sure. I don't know if either of them is."

"You're a Head of House. One of them must be. You should be able to Floo to your office, the Hospital Wing, and to the Headmaster's office, at the very least. It was the fireplace in the sitting room when Wilhelmina was here, but I don't know whether Albus might not have changed that when he moved everything else around."

The older witch looked around the study. "No pot of Floo-Powder here."

They went back out to the sitting room. "None here, either," Minerva said.

"Call your house-elf. Get some Floo-Powder. We'll try them out," Gertrude suggested.

"But . . . it may not be connected to my new office. Albus never mentioned the Floo-Network. Perhaps he forgot about it. It might still be connected to Wilhelmina's office."

"Worse that can happen is that we'll bounce back here if that's the case, or possibly land in the Headmaster's office. Of course, then we'd have to walk all the way back here, either way," Gertrude said. "And I doubt he forgot to connect it up. He probably just forgot to mention it to you. Where did your old Floo lead?"

"Nowhere, as far as I know. I didn't think it was connected." Minerva thought of all the months of trekking up and down all those flights of stairs. "I could have been on the Floo-Network?"

"You probably were – at least to your office. Of course, your office was quite close to your rooms, so it's possible he didn't connect you up to it. It should be quite convenient for you now, though, with your office and classroom down on the first floor and your rooms all the way up here."

"Oh. Yes, I suppose it wouldn't have got me to breakfast any faster, or lunch and dinner."

Gertrude shrugged. "I've never done it, but I know that some folk have their Floos connected to the antechamber off the Great Hall to save them the walk. Slughorn does. Don't have to be a Head of House for that, though. You should have said something." Gertrude shook her head. "Albus, Albus, Albus! We may love him, but sometimes he is rather . . . oblivious. Very thoughtful most of the time, and then other times . . ." Gertrude shrugged again.

Minerva smiled. Somehow, Gertrude's casual words about loving Albus warmed her heart. Just a few weeks ago, they would have triggered a fit of jealousy. But Gertrude recognised that Minerva loved Albus and, although Gertrude couldn't know the extent of her feelings for her former teacher, the older witch seemed very matter-of-fact about it.

"I know – it took him until last month to explain to me why I was given that old classroom and not the one in which he taught. He had no clue that I might have . . . expected that one and been disappointed by the one I was given. And yet his reasons for doing it were actually quite considerate." Minerva looked around. "There's no hurry in sorting out the Floo-Network. I can ask him about it tonight. Why don't I give you the rest of the tour?"

Gertrude agreed to that, and the two witches stuck their heads into the tiny kitchen, then Minerva brought her to see the bedroom. She was glad she hadn't taken out her "shrine" yet. Perhaps she should wait until she was sure that everyone who wanted to see her new rooms had done so before she put her little photograph of Albus back on her bedside table. That might seem . . . like obsessive hero-worship to any other staff members who saw it. Just as Dustern had implied earlier.

Gertrude duly admired Minerva's bedroom, looking out each of the windows. "You do have a very nice view from up here, Minerva. Mine isn't bad, of course, but as I'm only on the second floor, and you are practically in the Tower, you have more of a vista. I like the furniture and the draperies, too. Much better than the moth-eaten, Doxie-ridden stuff that was in here before."

"Doxies?" Minerva asked, slightly alarmed.

"Not literally, Minerva – although knowing Wilhelmina, she would likely have given them to Hagrid to keep as pets rather than pests!" she answered with a smile. "Ah, you have a copy of the photograph from your Challenge. Albus has one, too, you know. Keeps it in his study with the others."

"Albus gave this one to me," Minerva said. "He made me a copy of his." He kept it in his study and Gertrude had seen it there? He had sounded as though he weren't quite sure where to find it when he had promised her a copy of it.

"That's good. I wouldn't have thought he'd give away his only copy of it. He should give you the one of the school Quidditch match, too. I always thought that was a rather nice one, and you might like having it."

"Quidditch match?" She had never played Quidditch in school.

"Mmm . . . young Carson Murphy is in it, of course, zooming through the photo, but you are there, cheering your friend on, front and centre. Quite a nice picture of you, in fact. And of Mr Murphy, of course. Then there's the one from . . . I don't know what, exactly. A party or a ball. You're standing with young Alastor and some other wizards whom I didn't recognise. Must have been taken sometime shortly after the war, I would think. Alastor's leg was already gone, but I know that Albus has had the picture for some years, so it isn't recent."

"Oh. Well, it was good of him to make me a copy of this one. I had wanted a picture of him, you see," Minerva said, regretting her words immediately. But Gertrude didn't seem to think anything odd about them.

"I see. He's not in the other photographs. No doubt that's why he chose this one of you both together. It's a very good one of you, Minerva. You look so exhilarated and happy, and the photograph seems to project that."

Minerva didn't know what to say in response to that comment, so she just led Gertrude to her bathroom, expecting Gertrude just to poke her head in, remark on how nice it was, and then leave it at that. Instead, Gertrude walked in and looked approvingly at the shower and the bathtub, then looked over the tiles.

"So these are the tiles. Your rooms were ready last summer, after the warding, and for the next . . . two or three months, it must have been, Albus was finding pictures and Transfiguring tiles. I don't think it would have taken him so long normally, but he was so busy at the time, trying to teach and run the school simultaneously, as well as keep up with his other obligations, that he could only do a few at a time. I think he really enjoyed it. It was nice to see him doing something that was fun for him," Gertrude said, looking over at Minerva.

They went back out to the sitting room and Gertrude sank gratefully into the sofa. "You know, if it's no trouble, I would appreciate that cup of tea now."

"Of course! Blampa!" Minerva called. When the house-elf appeared, Minerva said, "Tea for our guest, Blampa. And a pot of Floo-Powder." She didn't know when she'd use it, but at least she would be prepared.

"Yes, ma'am, Professor Minerva!" Blampa cast a side-long look at Gertrude, then added boldly, "I, Blampa, brings you and Professor Gamp nice pot of tea!"

After the elf disappeared, Gertrude chuckled. "Subverting the Hogwarts house-elves, are we, Minerva?"

"Just one. Fortunately, she has decided that Wilspy is the model of a good house-elf and I think that has helped. When I first started here, her cringing and whinging were enough to drive me mad."

Gertrude stifled a yawn, and Minerva thought that she looked just as pale as she had earlier in the afternoon.

"Are you all right, Gertrude? I really don't mean to fuss, but you don't seem yourself today."

"Just overdoing it, Minerva. And I was up very late working in the Headmaster's office, trying to make up for the fact that I had abandoned him the day before. But I saw that you had been helping him, and I was pleased with that."

A pot of Floo-Powder appeared on the mantle, and the tea arrived, complete with a plate of ginger newts. Minerva poured for them.

Gertrude sipped her hot tea and sighed. "I am out of shape, Minerva. Completely. Not at all fit. And at my age, it's an embarrassment."

"You? I wouldn't have said that. You always seem to be quite energetic, and during that walk we took out to the hill fort, you seemed quite . . . fit, then. That's why I must admit I am concerned. You don't seem yourself. I worried that someone in your family was ill, or that you yourself were."

Gertie smiled slightly. "I don't mean physically unfit. I mean magically. Doing Arithmancy, even advanced Arithmancy, only requires a constant low level of magical concentration, and often not even that. I use a few spells here and there, of course, Summon my bath towels or banish my breakfast dishes, but I lack daily magical exercise of any meaningful sort. I am afraid that I have overdone it these past few days – foolish pride, I suppose – and I'm somewhat depleted."

"Oh . . . I see." Her mother, saying that Merwyn thought he could go weeks on end without lifting his wand and then perform series of archaic spells for hours at a time without depleting himself, and that was just foolishness, had given Minerva's grumbling father a set of magical exercises to do every day. Minerva's own work and, indeed, her nature, called for her to perform quite a bit of magic on a daily basis. Minerva asked curiously, "So . . . you've been doing more magic than usual?"

Gertie gave a barked laugh. "That is an understatement, Minerva. The Apparitions alone . . . and then not getting enough sleep last night. Then the warding is always taxing – I was relieved I didn't have to cast a Petrificus on Dustern. Casting the Silencio was embarrassingly taxing."

"You did it quite well, though." Minerva hadn't noticed anything other than the swiftness and efficacy of the spell; Gertie's fatigue had become evident a few minutes later, though.

"Oh, I'm not . . . untalented, I suppose one could say. Nor lacking innate power. I have just become a rather staid old Hogwarts teacher who doesn't use her magic enough."

Minerva fought a blush. Had Gertrude overheard her conversation with Malcolm? Surely if she had, Gertrude would recognise that she had just been joking, teasing her brother.

"I don't think of you as a staid old teacher," Minerva said quickly. "Far from it. I may . . . I may not have understood you well, not that I claim to now, of course, but I never thought you were staid. Although . . . you do dress more plainly than I think you could."

"Mmm. We already have Slytherins with style in the castle. Ones who pull it off better than I do, for that matter. It is nice to give the students a different image of what a Slytherin might be, don't you think? Besides, when I first began teaching, it wasn't long after Reginald died. It didn't feel as though it had been long, anyway. I was not particularly concerned with what I looked like. It became a habit. And now I'm too old to be worried about such things."

Minerva actually laughed at that. "I am sorry, Gertrude, I shouldn't laugh, but you are so much younger than my parents, and I don't yet see them as old."

"Mmm. I don't usually think of myself that way, either. But today, I feel older than Albus. Well," Gertrude said with a smile, "given that wizard's energy and approach to life, I usually feel older than Albus!"

Minerva returned her smile. "I wish you would tell him that. I am becoming rather weary of hearing him describe himself as an old codger. I don't know when it started, but lately, every time he turns around, he's saying something of that sort. He never used to. My protests must be beginning to sound disingenuous, I've repeated myself so often. Perhaps if he heard it from someone else . . ."

"I think Albus has just been going through a difficult time – not as difficult as some in his life, of course; I don't mean to imply that at all – and he's been working too hard. But there have been quite a few changes for him to deal with, and that might account for some of it."

Minerva nodded. Of course. Becoming Headmaster, then continuing to teach for a year before she joined the faculty, and now all of the changes to the staff, one of them because the Defence teacher had been bitten by a werewolf . . . and he still sat on the Wizengamot and consulted for the Ministry on international issues. Albus was tired, over-taxed, and that no doubt made him feel older. Not to mention that he really hadn't had a holiday yet that summer. He hadn't even been able to come to lunch at the house, he was so overworked. It was good that he had taken the time to come to dinner the night before. And he had been so surprised that she had known it was his birthday. She remembered the tears in his eyes when he saw the cake and its candles.

"I had him to dinner last night. An early dinner, because I knew he had to be up early for the warding, and he seemed tired then."

"Very nice, Minerva," Gertrude said with an approving nod. "And I know that he enjoyed himself. He said something this morning to that effect, though he didn't have an opportunity to elaborate. Did you know . . . that it was his birthday yesterday?"

"Yes, in fact – quite surprised him," Minerva said, pleased.

"He doesn't usually celebrate, though sometimes if I am here, I try to do a little something, though he always protests. Or he meets his brother for dinner. I thought he might do that this year, in fact. I'm glad he was with you, though. I am sure he enjoyed himself much more."

"Oh. You do celebrate his birthday with him, then?" Minerva didn't know how she felt about that. Albus had said it was the nicest birthday he'd had in a long time, and he behaved almost as though he'd never seen a birthday cake before.

"I wouldn't say that. If he doesn't go to his brother's, though, he has dinner in the staff room with us and I try to make sure they serve trifle or some other dessert he enjoys. I have had him around to tea a few times, too, but nothing fancy. I do give him a little present, of course. Usually something like handkerchiefs or such. I did give him a Charmed beard comb once. Didn't occur to me that he probably just uses his wand. He claims to use it. I'm afraid I rather lack imagination in that area. I thought I'd give him his present last night, but he never got in. Well, obviously he did, but he came by his backstair, apparently, and so I didn't see him. Left it on his desk. It was still there when we left this afternoon."

"He's been very busy – " Minerva said, feeling much better now that she knew that Albus had not exaggerated and her celebration really had been special to him.

"Oh, I know that. And it isn't much, anyway. But he always claims no one ever gives him socks, so as a sort of joke this year, I gave him six pair in six different colours. I was just looking forward to his reaction." Gertrude grinned. "I hope he doesn't plan on making them mix-and-match!"

Minerva chuckled. "He might, you never know."

"So . . . I suppose I should go. You had wanted to look at the Gryffindor book before your installation. I will be there, ready to congratulate the most recent Head of Gryffindor. But if I am going to congratulate you without falling over – which would be highly embarrassing – I think I should go take a nap." Gertrude rose. "Thank you for your hospitality, Minerva. I wish you many years of happiness in these rooms."

Minerva blushed. "Thank you, Gertrude. I will see you this evening, then."

After Minerva had let Gertrude out of her rooms, she went into her study and began to compose a letter to Quin to invite him up to see Hogwarts the next day. Now that Dustern was gone, she could likely let him in to see the Hufflepuff common room, even though James wasn't installed yet. She would have to ask Albus about it.

Just as she was finishing her letter to Quin, a small owl came flittering against her window. With a wave of her wand, she admitted it. Fortunately, it wasn't Bootsie – Minerva loved receiving letters from her niece, but she could do without being snapped at or clawed.

Minerva opened the small parchment.

"2 August 1957

"Albus"

Minerva smiled. Albus wrote such sweet notes. It certainly hadn't been necessary for him to write her a thank-you note, particularly as they were living in the same castle and he had expressed his appreciation the night before, but she was very glad that he had. They had had scarcely a moment to exchange two words that day. It was reassuring. Although he was always, as Melina said, gallant. Nonetheless, it was clear that he truly did care for her. The time he had spent on her rooms, both her current ones and her former ones, was testimony to that. And he certainly was . . . very fond of her. Minerva tried not to sigh as she thought of that phrase. It was good that he was so very fond of her. He had kissed her cheek when he left the evening before. He had kissed her cheek a few times. He certainly didn't go about doing that with every staff member. Though, perhaps, with Gertrude . . .

Minerva felt a pang as she thought of Albus's relationship with Gertrude. It wasn't the same as the jealousy she had felt before, and she certainly no longer envied Gertrude. But there was still something there . . . a wistfulness. Minerva didn't even think it had to do with Gertie as much as it had to do with her own relationship with Albus. He was fond of her. She wanted more than that. But she had always known she would never have it . . . nothing had changed, really, except for the better. They were closer friends. Yet even that thought brought a lump to her throat and a sting to her eyes, and she put down the letter from Albus, picked up the one to Quin, put it in her pocket, and turned to begin to read the Gryffindor book.

At six, Minerva went down to the staff room to join the others for a light dinner. Albus wasn't there yet, but their meal had appeared on the table already, so Minerva assumed that either he wasn't coming to dinner or he had informed the elves that he would be late and to serve the meal anyway. About fifteen minutes after they had started their meal and were almost ready for their dessert, Albus hustled into the room, still in black robes, but with a plain black tunic over all, rather than the Headmaster's robe.

"I hope that you have enjoyed your dinner. I am sorry I am late, but there was something requiring my attention in London."

Albus's plate filled itself, and he began to eat in a way that indicated he wanted to have his dessert as soon as possible. Minerva wanted to tell him to slow down or he'd ruin his digestion, but that would be highly inappropriate, she recognised. Instead, she thought that if she asked him a question, he would have to pause to answer it.

"Business in London, Albus?" she asked. "Anything concerning the school?"

"No, no, my dear. Simply a little Wizengamot problem. One of the wizards having his case heard today protested because I was not present, despite the attendance of a legally sufficient number for a sitting of the Wizengamot. In an attempt to provide the wizard with a sense of justice being done, they informed him that they would hear his case last to give me an opportunity to attend, although they would hear it whether I was there or not. They did, however, owl me and convey his request. Since the few minor tasks I had remaining for the warding can be performed later today, or even tomorrow, I popped down there to sit and hear his case."

"Did your presence make a difference?" Johannes asked curiously.

Albus shrugged. "It is hard to say. Perhaps his fine might have been different had I not been there, but I think the greatest difference was in his willingness to accept the verdict of the Wizengamot. He was appealing the ruling of his regional gamot, you see, and we did determine that their punishment was too severe – likely prejudiced by local personal bias against him – but his infraction was clear, and he did not even dispute the accuracy of the facts against him. I believe he felt . . . vindicated in some way."

Dessert arrived, and Albus banished his own dinner to start on his pudding. Minerva sighed. She probably just should have let him inhale his meal, if that's what he wanted to do; at least he would have eaten more healthy food. Conversation had been somewhat muted over dinner – it seemed that everyone was tired after the warding – and the meal was quickly over. Unable to find a plausible excuse to stop and speak with Albus and interrupt his conversation with Johannes about some trouble that Johannes needed Albus's assistance with – something to do with the portrait network in Ravenclaw Tower – Minerva left the staff room and made the long walk up to her new quarters. She would have to remember to ask Albus about the Floo-Network. She liked staying in shape, and climbing the seven flights of stairs from the ground floor to her rooms would be a good way to do that, but it was time-consuming.

She entered her new quarters, the Knight bowing to her clankily as he opened the door to her, and walked around her suite, first going into the study, then back to the sitting room, then to her bedroom, then back to the study, where she began to pace. She was getting nervous about the installation. What if Hogwarts and Gryffindor refused her? Minerva hadn't heard of such a thing happening in many centuries, but it was possible. In the thirteen hundreds, the selected Head of Hufflepuff had not been accepted by the Hufflepuff rolls and Hogwarts rejected her. Fortunately, there were several other Hufflepuffs on staff then – the staff was twice the size then than it was today – and they were able to easily find a replacement that was acceptable to the House. However, the witch was shunned, particularly by her fellow Hufflepuffs – not formally, of course, but people had been shocked and wondered what was wrong with her that she had not been accepted by her House rolls – and she quit a few months later, disappeared, and was reported to have died in disgrace not long afterwards.

What if she wasn't good enough? What if she wasn't Gryffindor enough? Seven o'clock. Only an hour . . . it felt as though it would be a century. She looked down at her robes. Perfectly nice – her pale blue robes – but perhaps she should wear something different for the installation. Show respect for it. Dress robes would be inappropriate, of course . . .

Minerva went into the bathroom and undressed, making the spontaneous decision to take a shower before she changed. It really was a lovely shower, and she experimented with the jets of water that came from the walls. She would play with them more some other time; she stepped from the shower and Summoned her towels. As she rubbed a towel over her, Minerva glanced over at the bathtub and its tiles. She didn't even need to step closer to see the ones of her and Albus, and a sudden sense of resolution and confidence entered her. Of course she was a Gryffindor! She had done that in France, after all, terrified though she had been, Dark Wizards on her heels, but ready to remain behind so that Albus could Portkey away to safety. And there were other times, she thought, when she had displayed some Gryffindor nerve. And, occasionally, even a little Gryffindor recklessness, as when she had bolted from Gryffindor Tower to find Dumbledore during the extraordinary curfew. There was no reason for Gryffindor not to accept her.

Minerva chose her robes with the tartan bodice and skirt, with the grey collar, sleeves, and wide band of grey at the bottom of the skirt. The tartan itself had two shades of green in it, a narrow grass-green line and a more dominant forest green, and her mother had told her that it brought out the colour of her eyes. She put her hair up in a French twist rather than a tight bun, then wondered whether she should put a teaching robe on over everything. Just as she was trying to decide about that, she heard the familiar clanking and barking coming from the sitting room.

Minerva looked up at the Silent Knight, but he didn't announce who her visitor was, so she just sighed and waved the door open with her wand. Gertrude, Wilhelmina, and Johannes stood outside.

"We have come to escort you, if we may," Johannes said with a warm smile.

"Oh, of course! I'm glad you're here, actually. Should I wear my teaching robes?" She noticed that the others were dressed smartly, but none of them was wearing a teaching robe over their normal attire – although Johannes was wearing deep azure robes in preference to the trousers he usually wore when working in the gardens or the greenhouses, and Gertrude's grey robes were a pretty silvery colour rather than the dull shades she generally wore during the school year.

"No, no need for that," Wilhelmina answered. "You look fine. Now get your book and come along!"

"A hat?"

"No – it's ceremonial, but not formal. You are fine as you are, Minerva," Gertrude said reassuringly.

Minerva went into the study and grabbed the Gryffindor book and rejoined the others. Johannes offered his arm, and smiling, she took it.

"Thank you all for coming to get me – I was becoming a wee bit nervous, I must confess."

"Everyone does, Minerva. I was shaking in my boots, I must tell you. I was not even a real Ravenclaw, I feared. But once the Ravenclaw rolls accepted me, I felt every inch a member of that House," Johannes said. "And you are already a wonderful example of Gryffindor, so you should have no fear." He patted her hand.

"Is Professor Slughorn coming?" Minerva asked curiously. He had been at dinner; he must still be in the castle.

"We presume so," Gertrude said.

In their friendly company, Minerva found herself in the Headmaster's office in no time at all. Albus was present and once again wearing his Headmaster's robe. She saw that he must have conjured a few more chairs.

"Welcome!" Albus said. "Please, take your seats. Professor McGonagall, if you would sit here," he said, indicating a chair set slightly apart from the others, "we can begin as soon as Professor Slughorn arrives."

That wizard did arrive just a moment later, large smile plastered on his face. Minerva thought, from the slight bloom to his cheeks and the glaze to his eyes, that he had been indulging in a glass of something after dinner. Or a few glasses of something.

Albus accepted the Gryffindor book from Minerva, and it unlatched at a touch of his index finger. He opened it to the page that listed all of the Heads of Gryffindor House. Most of the names were written in grey, but Albus's name was in bright blue and Wilhelmina's was in scarlet.

Albus turned to the current Head of Gryffindor and, smiling, asked her whether she was relinquishing the care and safe-keeping of her House, and if she was doing so willingly and not under any duress.

Wilhelmina affirmed both statements, then she touched the tip of her wand to her name and said, "I pass the care and safe-keeping of the House of Gryffindor to another. May all Heads of House be worthy, brave, and steadfast."

Her name shimmered a moment, then it reappeared in the same bright blue as Albus's. Albus lay the book to one side on the low table. Gertrude came forward with the Sorting Hat and placed it on her head.

"I remember you," Minerva heard the Hat say. "Spirited but oh-so serious. You could have been a Ravenclaw, or even a Hufflepuff, but your care for knowledge and your joy in learning was eclipsed by your desire to use your knowledge for others and to put learning aside in preference for acting in the interest of those who relied upon you. Loyalty you had in great measure, and not blindly, either, but the fierceness of that loyalty was brash and bold. Your audacious heart drove your loyalty and your quest for knowledge, and that was your principle mark. And now I see you again . . . and still you are loyal and clever, but you are a Gryffindor true, and you live to put aside your fears and your needs in order to do what you believe right and in the service of those whom you love. And leadership you have, as well, in good measure. The Founder of your House would be pleased to see his children in your care."

Minerva breathed a sigh of relief. When the Hat had begun to go on about Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, she worried again that she would not be found a worthy Gryffindor.

"Still and always a Gryffindor," the Sorting Hat announced loudly to the assembled company.

Albus picked up the book and held it out, open, to her. He smiled gently and said softly, "Now, my dear."

Minerva took a breath and, holding it, she reached out with her wand and touched it to the book just below Wilhelmina's name. Her heart pounded in her chest when, at first, nothing seemed to happen, but then, with a suddenness that startled her, her name, "Minerva Morag McGonagall," appeared in deep scarlet on the page.

As her name registered on the Gryffindor roll of Heads of the House, the Sorting Hat announced, "Gryffindor has a new Head of House!"

Minerva flushed with pleasure, and Albus took the book from her, smiling. The others clapped, and she heard Slughorn say something about "good job," and Johannes saying, "herzlichen Glückwunsch!"

Gertrude lifted the Hat from her head and said, "Congratulations, Professor McGonagall! Your House will thrive under your care."

Wilhelmina shook her hand and congratulated her, adding, "If there is any way that I can help you while I am here – or even after I leave – please let me know."

Albus waved his wand and a small grey jug and seven glasses appeared. He poured them each a small amount of golden liquid. It looked like sherry, but she could see that it was something different.

After she had been given a toast, offered by Slughorn, of all people, Minerva took a sip. It was wonderful. Warming, only slightly sweet on the tip of the tongue, a complex bouquet of spice and flowers, and a smooth, dry finish.

"What is this?" she asked. She had never tasted anything quite like it.

"It is centaur mead. Its making is a secret, but they use various ingredients from the forest and, of course, honey," Albus said with a smile. "It is somewhat rare – "

"'Somewhat rare!'" Slughorn exclaimed. "It is more than that. It would be no exaggeration to say that a wizard being able to lay his hands on a bottle of this is absolutely unique. Rare!"

"How did you come by it?" Minerva asked curiously.

Albus shrugged. "I did someone a favour several years ago – a centaur – he did not wish to owe me a favour in return, so he gave me this in repayment."

"I've offered him a few hundred Galleons for it, and still would, even half-gone, but he won't part with it," Slughorn grumbled.

"It is worth far more than that, Horace, as you know," Gertrude said, "and even if you offered what it might fetch on the open market, you know the Headmaster still wouldn't part with it. Your grumbling about it every time he generously chooses to share it is most unseemly and detracts from our enjoyment."

Slughorn mumbled a semblance of an apology.

"Thank you, Albus," Minerva said. "This really is marvellous."

"You are very welcome. A special occasion such as this deserves something special to mark it," he answered.

"I was so nervous. I was worried that I would be rejected."

Albus chuckled. "I understand being nervous, but there wasn't the slightest chance you would be rejected, my dear Professor. I had complete faith in you."

They finished sipping their centaur-made mead, and Slughorn stood, seeing there wasn't another glass to be coming, and he congratulated Minerva warmly, telling her that he'd be happy to "show her the ropes" if she wanted – whatever that meant, and then excused himself, saying that he thought he would have an early night as he was returning to his family home in the morning.

Wilhemina took Minerva's arm and said, "Come on, Minerva. Hagrid wants to see you. He would like to offer you his congratulations."

"Yes, he even baked his rock cakes today," Johannes said mirthfully. "Such a treat!"

"Lovely!" Minerva said with a laugh.

"Don't worry, Minerva, Brutus still seems to have an appetite for them," Wilhelmina said, smiling.

"I thought you wanted to extend his life a few months?" Gertrude joked. "Let's go down and present Hagrid with his new Head of House, shall we?"

Johannes opened the door to the spiral staircase, and Minerva turned to Albus. "Are you coming, Professor Dumbledore?"

"No, no, my dear. I have a few things here that I need to take care of still. I hope you enjoy yourself, though!"

Minerva nodded, trying not to let her disappointment show on her face, though she didn't know how well she succeeded.

"All right, good night, then," she said.

Gertrude lay a hand on her back. "Come, let's go save Brutus from Hagrid's rock cakes, shall we, Minerva?"

Minerva smiled. "Of course."