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kelly_chamblissBeyond a quick summary of Kingsley's visit, Minerva and Wilhelmina didn't discuss Lady Wandsdown's latest letter until they were climbing into Minerva's four-poster bed that night. Then Willa wrapped her arms around Minerva, and they settled back against the pillows for what Willa called "a good natter."
"Well," Willa began, "at least the staff room was quiet."
Minerva snorted. Even Rolanda had been subdued during the usual after-dinner coffee and tea break in the staff room. After muttering, "Don't even worry about it, Min; Wandsdown's an arse," she'd downed her tea in one gulp and scarpered. The others offered similar platitudes and departed as soon as they could. They all knew that the headmistress was upset, and an upset McGonagall was usually someone to be avoided.
Only Filius had seemed his usual cheerful and imperturbable self. "It'll be a storm in a teacup, Minerva," he'd said, waving his own cup with a grin. "You'll see."
"Kingsley may be right," Minerva said to Willa now. "This could be a fight we can win. But I'm not sure I want the battle." She twisted in her lover's embrace to look at her intently. "It's not about shame -- "
"I know that," said Willa, and Minerva settled back again.
"It's that I don't want our personal lives played out in public like some sort of Quidditch match. We aren't a spectacle for people's entertainment."
"True." Willa puffed on her pipe, the smoke charmed to disappear at once.
Minerva turned again to look at her, this time with a sardonic eyebrow raised. "But -- ? There's a 'but' here, Willa, I can hear it. I know you too well."
"That you do. Yes, there's a 'but.' Our private lives are our own, true, but. . .I wouldn't mind being a couple with you in public. Truth be told, I'd like it. A lot. Sharing a table at Rosmerta's. Sitting with you at Quidditch matches. Escorting you to this Ministry Yule Ball thing."
"You hate Ministry events!"
"I do, right enough. But if we have to go, we have to go. Would rather go with you openly, that's all. Now and always."
"I -- " Temporarily speechless, Minerva reached for Willa's hand and squeezed it.
"Well, you think about it," Willa said, squeezing back. "Sleep on it. Plenty of time to decide once the fight seems likely. If it ever does."
She took another few ruminative puffs on her pipe and then straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat.
Minerva recognised the signs of Wilhelmina Coming to a Decision.
"What?" she demanded.
"Been thinking about a line in that letter." Willa Summoned her copy and then took up her monocle from the bedside table. "Wasn't going to say anything, but decided I'd better. Listen." Peering through her monocle, she read, "'these two lovers, despite having so long ensnared each other's senses, have to live publicly as though they are nearly strangers.' That phrase -- 'ensnared each other's senses.' Remind you of anything?"
She glanced at Minerva shrewdly. "Guessing it does; you must have recognised it same as I did."
Minerva nodded. "It's what Severus always used to say to the potions students."
"Probably doesn't mean anything, of course," Willa said. "Lots of people have heard that line over the years." She dropped the parchment and her monocle back on the table and then raised the edge of the duvet invitingly. "Come on, let's get some sleep."
Minerva wanded out the candles and lay down. Willa spooned behind her, kissed her neck, and mumbled, "'Night, love."
Long after Willa's regular breathing proclaimed her to be asleep, Minerva lay staring into the darkness.
--//--//--
Three days later, she Apparated to a Muggle village some distance from Hogwarts. On its outskirts, behind a tall hedge, stood a small cottage. It was well kept, its windows clean and snugly-fitted, the hedge neatly trimmed. Smoke curled from the stone chimney.
Minerva paused as she approached. She'd sent an owl, but she was not sure how she'd be received. . .or if she'd be received at all.
Yet even as she wondered, the red door of the cottage opened, and Severus Snape came out upon the stone step.
To virtually all of the wizarding world, Severus -- Hogwarts' famous double-agent -- was a dead hero. Only Minerva, Kingsley, and St. Mungo's head healer knew that he was a living one.
He was frighteningly thin and leant heavily upon a walking stick, but he motioned to her peremptorily, his old imperiousness intact, and Minerva nearly smiled.
"Come in, don't just stand there gawping," he snapped as soon as she was in hearing distance. "And don't tell me I'm looking well," he added as he noticed her appraisal of him. "You know I hate being lied to."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Minerva assured him, entering the tidy front room. "Especially since you're actually looking rather appalling."
Snape's lips twitched, and he followed her inside. "I told you of my whereabouts on the very remote chance that in the future -- the far distant future, I'd hoped -- some seriously desperate circumstance might make it necessary for you to contact me. But here you've barely lasted six months before you apparently feel the need of a social call."
"Well, and it's good to see you, too, Severus. I'm glad the near-fatal snake bite did nothing to diminish your charm."
He ignored this. "Sit down and pour yourself some tea," he said, lowering himself stiffly into an armchair. "Don't think I'm going to wait on you. There's a bottle of Ogden's on the sideboard if you want something stronger."
Despite his apparent disdain for social calls, Severus had loaded a small table with tea things and a plate of cakes.
As soon as she'd supplied herself with a fortified cuppa, he said, all irony gone, "What's wrong, Minerva?"
"It's nothing 'seriously desperate,' to use your words," she replied. "But it's worrisome." Quickly, she outlined the Lady Wandsdown saga.
"In one sense, of course, Poppy is right," she concluded. "No real harm seems to have been done. So far. But it's de-stabilising, and that's something we don't need right now. It's already had some effect: Rolanda is less exuberant than usual, and -- "
"Surely you aren't suggesting that's a bad thing," Severus interrupted.
"Well. . .it's certainly not typical. She's preoccupied and distracted; clearly she's giving this training school a lot of thought, and it's taking most of her attention."
"What about Filius and Pomona?"
Minerva grimaced. "At first they barely spoke to each other; then they went through a period of being excruciatingly polite and formal. At least now they've become friendly again, but as for romance, well, who knows? I certainly don't, and I'm not going to try to find out. If they've gone in that direction, they're keeping it to themselves. But this whole business has definitely made for some very strained afternoons in the staff room."
"I can imagine," said Severus. "But what I can't yet quite see is what all this has to do with me."
"See if this will stimulate your Inner Eye," said Minerva, reaching into her bag. "Here is the most recent letter; it came a few days ago. I think you'll be able to tell why some of us thought of you."
He read the parchment she handed him, his brow furrowed. "'Ensnare the senses,' yes, I see," he said finally.
He leant forward and spoke solemnly. "Minerva, I give you my word of honour that I had nothing do with this. Not this letter, not any of it. For one thing, I have no patience with such silly games, not after all I've been through. And for another, I hope you know that I would never expose you and Wilhelmina against your wishes. Not under any circumstances. I mean, be serious! I never even breathed a word to Voldemort. . . and you think I'd tell the likes of Kingsley Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley?"
Minerva had to chuckle. "No, of course I didn't really think so. But you understand why I had to ask. I'm rather out of any other ideas at this point."
Severus added a drop of Ogden's to his own tea. Minerva was fairly certain this was against his Muggle doctors' orders, but she understood the need.
"None of my business, obviously," he said, taking a long sip. "But I've lived most of my life behind secrets, and believe me, it's better to be free of them. Much better."
He waited a beat to make sure she'd got his message and then went on, "As for Lady Wandsdown, or whoever the hell is writing these ludicrous letters, I suggest you look closer to home. So far the focus has all been on Hogwarts and things learnt there; that's where you'll find your culprit."
"I suspect you're right," Minerva agreed, rising to leave. "Thank you, Severus; you've been very helpful."
Severus looked affronted. "Oh, that's just perfect," he said with his old sneer. "You barge in here, fling around some false accusations, pick my brain, drink my liquor. . .and now you're planning to leave without even being civil enough to offer me some decent conversation first. Typical self-centred Gryffindor."
"Why, Severus! If I didn't know better, I'd think you were lonely."
"Don't be absurd. But as long as you're here, and I've gone to the trouble of offering you tea, I expect some recompense. If I'm going to be forced to provide unpaid counsel and advice to the head of Hogwarts, I'm at least going to need to be briefed on what else is happening there."
"Of course." Minerva sat down again and reached for a cake. "I wouldn't want to intrude," she said blandly, "but if you are willing to assist me occasionally, it might be helpful if I were to make fairly regular. . .er, informational visits. To fill you in about Hogwarts."
"Apparently I am never to be free of that benighted institution," Severus huffed. "Fine. Come once a month or so. Send an owl first. Now pour yourself more tea and tell me how badly Gryffindor is doing at Quidditch."
--//--//--
Sunday afternoon, 20 December, found Minerva in the staff room, presiding over a meeting between her heads of houses and the four members of the Ministry Yule Ball Committee.
Invitations to the ball had already been owled; food and décor were arranged. This final meeting was merely to settle last-minute details, and Minerva was pleased when they managed to conclude their business with only minimal tussles over the remaining division of labour and with only one moment of asperity from the usually argumentative Sage Bagnold, head of the Department of Magical Transportation.
"I hope you can all stay for for dinner in the Great Hall," Minerva said to the Ministry people as the meeting concluded. "There will be cocktails beforehand here in the staff room in about an hour."
Bagnold, of course, needed to bustle fussily away, but the others happily accepted.
"Nothing like a delicious Hogwarts feast," declared Wilkie Twycross, who travelled from the Ministry a few times a year to give the students Apparition lessons. "It's always my favourite part of coming to the school."
"And here I thought your favourite part would be students splinching themselves," chuckled Griselda Marchbanks, a tiny old woman whose wrinkled face adorned one of the sharpest minds in the Ministry. As long-time governor of the Wizarding Examinations Authority, she was a familiar annual visitor who was quite at home in the Castle.
"I'd love to stay for dinner," she told Minerva. "You don't mind if I wander the corridors for a bit first? Have to fit in my daily constitutional."
She set off. Horace carried the other Ministry members off to his rooms for pre-cocktail cocktails, and Minerva and her remaining staff breathed sighs of relief.
"Be glad to get this Yule Ball over with," said Wilhelmina.
"Won't we all?" said Pomona, rising. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some marking to do before dinner."
"So do I," said Filius, hopping to his feet and exclaiming jovially, "Homework doesn't mark itself, you know." He hurried out after Pomona.
Minerva raised an interested eyebrow. "I've never seen so much excitement about marking before," she said.
"Aye," nodded Willa. "The game's afoot, I'd say, though I wouldn't want to bet on which one is the game and which the hunter. Well, I'm off to tend the unicorns. See you at dinner, love." Since they were by themselves, she gave Minerva a quick peck on the cheek and strode out.
With a cat-like stretch, Minerva leant back in her chair. This was the first time she'd been alone, without even portraits, in. . .actually, probably in days. She knew she should use this time to think about some of the thorny questions she needed to face, but the desire to leave things behind for a while was too strong.
With a pop, she transformed into her cat self and was soon napping on the rug in front of the fire.
--//--//--
"Minerva! Minerva!"
Someone was shaking her, ruffling her fur, and Minerva let out an irritated meow.
When she opened her eyes to see the deeply-lined face of Madam Professor Marchbanks bending over her, she returned to her human form at once.
"My apologies, Griselda," she said, getting to her feet and running a surreptitious hand over her hair. "The fire was just too tempting."
Griselda waved these words away. "Never mind that; of course you need time to relax. Come, sit down; I've something to show you."
But when they were side-by-side on a sofa, the old woman made no move to show anything. Instead, she used her wand to light a thin cigarette.
"Kingsley," she said finally, taking a puff and charming the smoke away. "Kingsley will have told you that he and Arthur and I received copies of that letter from your Lady Wandsdown."
"Hardly my Lady Wandsdown," corrected Minerva, "but yes, he told me."
"Well, I hope it goes without saying that none of us cares two figs about whom you share your bed with. Unless it's a student, of course."
"I have no interest in bedding students."
"Of course you don't; who said you did?" demanded Griselda sharply. She smoked furiously for a moment. "The point here is that this Lady Wandsdown seems to be trying to stir up trouble, and I'm trying to tell you that it's all bollocks. You're an excellent headmistress, Wilhelmina is a fine professor, and the Ministry and the Board of Governors are more than satisfied with you both."
"Thank you," Minerva replied. "I'm glad to hear it."
"But I don't want to talk about that now," said Griselda, her tone accusatory, as if Minerva had been the one to introduce such an irrelevant topic. "I want to show you this."
She held out a digest-sized book.
The lurid, moving cover showed a busty woman in an old-fashioned gown, high-waisted and cleavage-baring. Bosom rising and falling rapidly, she repeatedly fainted toward a handsome, rakish man wearing the sort of tail-coated robe and neck stock that rich wizards had favoured about two hundred years earlier. Over and over, he caught the woman in one arm, then used his other hand to point his wand at a pile of parchment, setting it aflame.
The title Lady Scandalship's Magical Surrender scrolled across the top of the cover in flowing red letters.
"Er. . .your recommendation for Yuletide reading?" Minerva asked, bemused.
"Of course not, though it's probably a corker. A little escapist fiction never hurt anyone. No, I'm showing you this because I just found it in the Room of Requirement."
There was a pause while Griselda Vanished the butt of her first cigarette and lit another.
"I stopped there during my walk, you know," she continued. "I asked the Room for a place to rest my old bones, and it gave me a sort of Regency boudoir with gold hangings and mirrors on the walls and a long gold sofa heaped with tasselled cushions. Very comfy, it was, too -- good fire, dozens of candles. This book was lying on the sofa. I think you'll find it extremely interesting. Go on, read the blurb."
On the back of the book Minerva read, "Miss Lucy Wandsdown had never found the gentleman who could tempt her hand in marriage. As she watched her friends make one painfully bad alliance after another, all for the want of proper guidance, she decided that her life's work lay in supporting the sisterhood -- offering wise counsel to young women through disinterested, helpful letters. Thus was 'Lady Scandalship' born.
"All went swimmingly -- her Ladyship wrote her letters; right loves were found, and wrong matches averted -- until the dashing, mysterious Lord Dandridge arrived for the Season, oozing danger from the tip of his top hat to the soles of his bespoke boots. His apparent object? The affections of Lady Scandalship herself. Will Miss Wandsdown heed her own sage advice about suitable partners? Or will she fall headlong into the pit of risky love?"
Minerva turned astonished eyes to Griselda, who nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh. Told you you needed to see this. Obviously someone here at Hogwarts has decided to turn this little fantasy"-- she gestured with her cigarette towards the book -- "into a twisted reality. But who, eh? That's the question."
"I think I might know the answer," said Minerva slowly. "I didn't want to believe it was possible, but -- Beldy!" she called.
"Your headship needs Beldy?" said the elf, popping into the room. His eyes widened when he saw the book in her hand.
"Does this book belong to you, Beldy?" Minerva asked.
The elf nodded slowly. "But Beldy did not steal it from the library, your divine headship!" he burst out, his elaborate vocabulary deserting him under stress. "It is Beldy's own property; he traded for it last summer. All those visiting elves came with their masters to rebuild Hogwarts, and they brought things with them. To trade; it is the elf way. Beldy traded for that book fair and square!"
"That's fine, Beldy; I'm not accusing you of stealing it. But it's a book about a lady writing anonymous letters, isn't it?"
Beldy nodded again.
"Surely you can see my dilemma. I know you don't lie, and you told me that you didn't write those letters. But this is your book, and it's a story about secret letters. Written by someone named Miss Wandsdown. And here at Hogwarts, we've been receiving mysterious letters written by a mysterious lady called Wandsdown."
"Beldy didn't do it!" cried the elf.
"Did anyone ask you to copy letters from this book, or write down letters that they dictated to you?
"No, your headship!"
"Do you know who did write the Hogwarts letters?"
"Beldy does not know; he swears it."
"Has anyone else been reading this book?"
Beldy shook his head so violently that he staggered a bit from dizziness. "It is Beldy's book just for himself."
Griselda Marchbanks had been listening keenly, and now she spoke. "Beldy, where do you go to read your book?"
"Beldy uses the Room of Requirement," said the elf promptly. "Or as he prefers to call it, the Chamber of Perquisite. Beldy goes there on his days off. It is a grand place to read and study -- a nice fire and many candles and a long, soft golden sofa. For the objective of reclining," he added.
"And do you leave your books there when you finish reading?" Minerva asked.
Beldy nodded vigorously.
Just then the staff room door opened, and Hooch strode in. "Merlin, but I'm ready for a drink," she was saying to Aurora Sinistra. "Yet another reason to love the Yuletide -- Christmas drinks on the Hogwarts tab every night for a week. Oh, here's Min."
Minerva stood. "The drinks table will be set up shortly," she told Rolanda.
To Beldy, who was standing by looking anxious, she said quietly, "Thank you, Beldy. Everything is fine now, don't worry. Please continue to enjoy the Room of Requirement whenever you like."
The elf bowed and disappeared. Other staff members were now trickling in -- Horace and the Ministry Committee, Hagrid carrying his giant tankard. Filius, Poppy. and Septima. Wilhelmina, who caught Minerva's eye and winked.
Under cover of the resulting noise and chatter, Griselda whispered to Minerva, "Seems like I'm not the only one who found the elf's Room of Requirement." She grinned and amended, "Chamber of Perquisites, I mean. Lady Wandsdown obviously found it, too. But we're still no closer to knowing who she is, are we?"
Minerva shook her head.
"Well, I'll give it some thought," Griselda said. "Meanwhile, I think I'll have a little chat with Hooch about her fascinating Wandsdown letter. A training school. Interesting possibilities, no?"
She walked off. Minerva stayed where she was. Generations of Hogwarts students would have recognised her thin-lipped expression and quaked in their boots accordingly.
"I think it's my turn to pay a visit to the Chamber of Perquisites," she said to herself. "We'll see what it can show me. Merlin knows I have requirement enough."
--//--//--
It was Christmas Eve before the Room of Requirement opened for Minerva onto the setting that Beldy and Griselda had described: a rococo fantasy of elegantly-curved furniture legs, subdued turkey carpets, mirrored walls with gold hangings, dozens of candles, a blazing fire.
But the room was not empty.
Seated on the golden sofa was a woman.
She wore a high-waisted, scoop-necked dress of ice-blue, rather like an older woman's much more decorous version of the bosom-baring gown on the cover of Beldy's romance novel. Long white gloves covered her arms to above her elbows, and diamonds glittered at her ears and throat, their reflections twinkling brightly in the room's many mirrors.
Minerva found it impossible to determine her age. Her abundant hair, piled in a fluffy knot atop her head, was white, but her skin was smooth; her dark eyes watched Minerva with a penetrating stare.
"Headmistress McGonagall," the woman said. Her voice sounded rusty, as if she spoke rarely. "Minerva. We meet in person at last."
"Who are you?" demanded Minerva, drawing her wand.
The woman laughed. "My dear, you live up to your warlike name, and of course the school has long been the better for your courage. But you have no need to point your wand. It couldn't harm me, and it does seem rather unfriendly. Come. Sit with me and talk."
An ice-blue armchair shimmered into being next to Minerva, and suddenly she was sitting in it, her wand back in her sleeve. She tried to leap to her feet, but was unable to move. A wandless Immobulus jinx, evidently.
"Who are you?" Minerva repeated, forcing herself to speak calmly despite her pounding heart.
The woman tilted her handsome head consideringly. "I suppose you could say that I am Lady Wandsdown."
"Lady -- " Minerva struggled to makes sense of this; questions tumbled through her head. "But. . .how did you get here? Are you a ghost? And why are you tormenting us with those letters?"
"Tormenting you!" Lady Wandsdown looked shocked. "My dear, nothing could be further from the truth. I am not 'tormenting' you; I am helping you! I could never harm the staff of Hogwarts. . .well, at least not those who love her."
"Helping us?" Minerva was angry now. "You have been scaring people, violating their privacy, exposing them to possible ridicule and censure and perhaps even the loss of their livelihoods!"
Lady Wandsdown pressed a gloved hand to her chest. "No, no, you misunderstand! Hogwarts could ask for no better staff, yet I know that many of you are still not as happy or satisfied as I would wish. I am trying to help you become your best selves, free and at peace."
"As you would wish? What right have you to meddle in any of our lives? Just who are you?"
A broad smile spread across Lady Wandsdown's face.
"If you were not so stressed and agitated, you would have divined the truth long ere now, dear Minerva; you were a Ravenclaw-Gryffindor hatstall for good reason," she said. "Who am I, you ask?
"I am the Castle. I am Hogwarts."
--//--//--
For a moment, Minerva would not have been able to rise from her chair even if the use of her limbs had been returned to her.
"You're what?" she gasped.
"I am Hogwarts. Yes," nodded her ladyship. "I have put my consciousness into this unprecedented corporeal form because. . .well, for many reasons, but largely because I believe that times of important change require bold new moves, new ways of doing. And also because I wanted to talk with you, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. As a friend."
She patted Minerva's still-Immobulised arm.
"I have loved all of my headmasters and headmistresses," she went on, "yes, even Phineas Nigellus and that Trimble man, for they gave me their best. I did not, of course, love the unspeakable Madam Umbridge, but then, I never recognised her as a true headmistress.
"But you, Minerva -- you and Dilys and Albus, you three have been especially close to my heart. There is so much of all the Founders in you, my dear: you are a fit heir to Godric's courage and Rowena's intelligence, you are as compassionate as Helga --" here she dimpled and added, "though you have much more of a temper. And you have the best of Salazar's craftiness. So I decided to meet you."
"Thank you," Minerva said automatically, feeling dazed. "I think. But -- "
"This is a surprising move on my part, I know," said the Lady Hogwarts. "So it is no wonder that you are wary. But since the Battle. . .well, the fact is that you nearly lost me in the war; I did not believe I could return after being so wounded and broken. I seriously considered shutting myself down. Yet I did not -- because there was so much strength and dedication in everyone's loving restoration of me that I changed my mind. I am back to stay."
"I'm glad," said Minerva.
But beneath the civilized conversation, her mind was racing. Could this woman possibly actually be the personification of Hogwarts Castle itself?
The idea seemed preposterous, but Minerva had to admit that this solution would fully explain how the mysterious "Lady Wandsdown" had known so many secrets: the sentient Castle would have heard, many times, Severus's annual speech about "ensnaring the senses"; it would have overheard Hooch's and Pomona's floo calls; it would have seen her and Wilhelmina together in private; it might even -- perish the thought -- be aware of people's sexually "busy" fingers.
And with the same magic that animated the Room of Requirement, the Castle could easily have created the physical letters themselves and caused them to appear -- "like magic" -- on people's desks and plates.
As bizarre as it was, the story made sense.
On balance, Minerva was convinced. . .and by more than just the logic. Somehow, the situation was beginning to seem, well, right, like something she had always known. She felt almost at one with the Castle.
Hogwarts seemed to sense her support, for the white-haired Lady smiled warmly. "As I say, I have determined that things will be different now. I will no longer be content just to watch my teachers and students find their homes within me. I wish to participate -- albeit with only a selected few."
She touched Minerva's arm again, and Minerva could feel the Immobulus jinx release its grip. She could move once more.
"These letters," she said, leaning forward but making no attempt to leave. "These 'Lady Wandsdown' letters. They feel frightening, divisive rather than healing."
The Lady Hogwarts looked thoughtful. "Such was truly not my intent. I had tried to communicate with everyone earlier this term, by altering the staircases and the Charms corridor, but these methods were ineffective."
"In a word," said Minerva dryly, and she could feel the Castle's amusement.
"In my defence, I will remind you that at that point, I was still not completely repaired," her ladyship smiled. "I daresay I was not thinking clearly. In any event, I sought another approach. Then the little elf -- Beldy, is it? -- left his book in the Room of Requirement, and I -- Hmm. How best to explain? I was able to absorb, let us say, a few chapters, and in the book at least, the letters appeared to do some good. The good characters ended well, and the bad ended badly, which seemed exactly the thing. So I borrowed a paragraph from 'Lady Scandalship' to start and then continued on my own."
"But," objected Minerva, "to tell all our secrets -- "
"My dear!" exclaimed the Castle. "Don't you see that that is precisely the point? The secrets were getting in the way of everyone's happiness! Dear Hooch was a mass of contradictory feelings: she didn't want to seem disloyal to you or to me, but she was no longer content to spend her life teaching broom skills to children. Poor Pomona and Filius were pining -- simply pining -- and for such unnecessary reasons. And you, my girl -- " here she fixed Minerva with a worried stare -- "you and your beloved are missing so much potential joy."
"I don't -- "
The lady lifted a finger to forestall Minerva's response. "No, just listen. I know your arguments about your right to privacy, and of course I agree. If you and Wilhelmina are both satisfied with the situation as it is, then no outsider should interfere, not even me. But that is the question, of course, my love: are you thus satisfied?"
Minerva was silent. She'd kept her private affairs private for so long that it had become just the way things were; she no longer thought about how life might be different or whether it even could be different.
Did she really want it to be? What might a more public life look like? More importantly, would it unsettle what she and Willa already had?
Or would their lives be even better?
"I don't know," she said at last.
Lady Hogwarts smiled kindly. "Nor do I," she said. "Only you can decide. But I have no doubt that you will think things out most carefully. As for myself, I am feeling much better about my staff now. I think the letters have helped Hooch and Filius and Pomona. But I shall cease sending them, if you think it best."
"I do," said Minerva, almost sternly. "I do indeed."
"Well, then." Her ladyship got to her feet and unfurled the fan that suddenly appeared in her hand. It seemed that the audience was over. "I leave you to return to your Christmas Eve celebrations and later, I hope, to your Willa's arms. Good night, dear Minerva, and Happy Yuletide."
"I -- thank you, Lady Hogwarts," Minerva said. No other words seemed quite possible just then.
She was about to stand up when the lady spoke one last time.
"Headmistress," Hogwarts said, and it seemed to Minerva that the outline of her body was beginning to fade, "now that we've made each other's official acquaintance, I look forward to taking this form again and visiting with you occasionally. But only occasionally. The rest of the time, just know that you are surrounded, quite literally, by my support and care."
She smiled almost impishly and added, "And by the most stable of staircases and corridors, of course."
With a final gesture of her fan, she disappeared.
Minerva sat for a long time, alone with the candles, the mirrors, and her many complicated thoughts.
--//--//--
By eight o'clock on the evening of Boxing Day, the Ministry Yule Ball was in full swing.
The Great Hall of Hogwarts was unrecognisable as its usual self. Filius, Hagrid, and several Ministry volunteers had transformed the Hall into a glorious forest of white and gold trees, their branches illuminated from within, the light falling on pillowy drifts of "snow" that served as comfortable couches. The enchanted ceiling sparkled with stars.
Trays of champagne and savoury treats floated among the dozens of guests; Filius's charms ensured that nothing spilled or got in anyone's way. Anyone who wanted water or wine or ale or tea had merely to tap their glass and whisper their preference.
A dais draped with holly and evergreen stood in place of the usual high table, and a dance floor glittered in front of it, wisps of glowing red and green smoke swirling gracefully around the dancers.
Minerva surveyed the scene with satisfaction and no little amount of relief. In a few short hours, her official duties would be over, and she could start what she thought of as her real Christmas -- three days at Wilhelmina's cottage, the school left in Filius's capable hands, her only companions her books and her Willa.
"Pretty, what?" said the very woman. Willa had come up beside her and was indicating the bedecked hall.
"Lovely," Minerva agreed. They watched the dancers companionably until they saw Kingsley coming toward them looking purposeful. Willa gave Minerva's elbow a quick, unseen squeeze and moved off; they'd long since perfected ways to secretly acknowledge each other in public.
"I expect you're just as ready for this to be over as I am," Kingsley said as he reached her side.
"Definitely," said Minerva, taking her first glass of champagne from a passing tray. One drink only before the speeches; that was her rule.
Kingsley snagged a flute for himself. "I need this," he groaned, taking a long swallow. "What a term this has been. Still, apparently all's well that ends well."
"Yes." Minerva had told the staff about her encounter with "Lady Wandsdown" and had owled a report to Kingsley, Griselda, and Arthur (whom she had seen earlier jitterbugging with Molly), but otherwise, the story would go no further.
"At least some good has come of it all," Kingley said, and he nodded toward Filius and Pomona.
Filius had charmed himself to hover in the air at Pomona's height; they were holding each other close for a slow dance, trading brief kisses as they swayed together, oblivious to the crowd.
Minerva smiled. "Some good indeed. And you might not be surprised to hear, Kingsley, that Rolanda Hooch came to see me earlier today. To submit her resignation, as of the end of spring term."
He gave a low whistle. "She's starting her training school?"
"She's starting her training school."
"Well, good for Hooch!" Kingsley lifted his glass in a toast. "Here's to the successful conclusion of our mystery letter-writer and our ball. And to getting through our speeches."
Minerva touched her glass to his. "To the conclusion."
"Ready for the spotlight?" he asked after a moment, letting his champagne flute vanish into the charmed air. He held out his arm; Minerva took it, and they set off for the dais.
Kingsley motioned the band to silence, and his magically-amplified voice boomed out over the crowd. "Greetings of the season to you all. On behalf of the Ministry of Magic and the staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I'm pleased to welcome you all to this year's Yule Ball."
His smooth voice went on, touching briefly on the horrors of the year just passed but moving almost at once to the promise of the future, and Minerva stopped listening. She let her mind drift on the current of Kingsley's soothing cadences, surfacing only when she heard him say, "And not that she needs any introduction, but it gives me great pleasure to present to you everyone's favourite professor, our esteemed headmistress, Minerva McGonagall."
Minerva had thought long and hard about this moment, and she stepped forward resolutely, silencing the applause with a quick wave of her hand.
"I won't keep you long from your dancing and drinks," she said. "Merlin knows we've all earned a party. But I would be remiss if I did not thank the many people who made this lovely evening possible."
She carefully named every helper, from her own staff to the ministry workers to the decorating committee to the dedicated elves who had prepared the food.
Then she took a deep breath, summoned her inner Godric Gryffindor, and said, "My final thanks go to the person who deserves all the gratitude and adoration that I can offer her. It's long past time for me to publicly acknowledge my beloved life partner -- Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank."
A moment of stunned silence followed this announcement. Then, after a shout from Hooch -- "About time!" -- a buzz of chatter started and swelled as guests looked at each other with wild surmise. Some were clearly asking if they'd heard what they thought they'd heard; many cheered and grinned; several waved happily at Minerva from the crowd.
Of course, some looked horrified; others were frowning and scowling. One member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors had already cornered Arthur Weasley and was gesticulating angrily.
Ah, well. Minerva had always known that some sort of fight was inevitable.
She hadn't thought she wanted it. But as she'd sat in the Room of Requirement on Christmas Eve, she'd realised that somewhere along the line -- as she'd talked with Kingsley and Griselda and Severus and Willa and the astounding Lady Hogwarts -- her decision had made itself: she was ready, at last, to show her true self to her world.
And whatever fight might come, she would, as Kingsley had said, "deal with it."
Because "Lady Wandsdown" had been right: -- "We have been backward long enough".
The time had come to embrace a better age.
Whatever its fights or promises, though, the future was the future, and at the moment, Minerva didn't care about it.
At the moment she had eyes for only two things:
Wilhelmina's brilliant smile, beaming up at her in front of the dais.
And the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, where the Lady Hogwarts was offering her reaction.
Gone were the decorous, distant stars that had shone down upon them earlier.
The Castle's enchanted sky was now blazing with the bursting green, blue, and red dazzle of the Northern Lights.
"Well," Willa began, "at least the staff room was quiet."
Minerva snorted. Even Rolanda had been subdued during the usual after-dinner coffee and tea break in the staff room. After muttering, "Don't even worry about it, Min; Wandsdown's an arse," she'd downed her tea in one gulp and scarpered. The others offered similar platitudes and departed as soon as they could. They all knew that the headmistress was upset, and an upset McGonagall was usually someone to be avoided.
Only Filius had seemed his usual cheerful and imperturbable self. "It'll be a storm in a teacup, Minerva," he'd said, waving his own cup with a grin. "You'll see."
"Kingsley may be right," Minerva said to Willa now. "This could be a fight we can win. But I'm not sure I want the battle." She twisted in her lover's embrace to look at her intently. "It's not about shame -- "
"I know that," said Willa, and Minerva settled back again.
"It's that I don't want our personal lives played out in public like some sort of Quidditch match. We aren't a spectacle for people's entertainment."
"True." Willa puffed on her pipe, the smoke charmed to disappear at once.
Minerva turned again to look at her, this time with a sardonic eyebrow raised. "But -- ? There's a 'but' here, Willa, I can hear it. I know you too well."
"That you do. Yes, there's a 'but.' Our private lives are our own, true, but. . .I wouldn't mind being a couple with you in public. Truth be told, I'd like it. A lot. Sharing a table at Rosmerta's. Sitting with you at Quidditch matches. Escorting you to this Ministry Yule Ball thing."
"You hate Ministry events!"
"I do, right enough. But if we have to go, we have to go. Would rather go with you openly, that's all. Now and always."
"I -- " Temporarily speechless, Minerva reached for Willa's hand and squeezed it.
"Well, you think about it," Willa said, squeezing back. "Sleep on it. Plenty of time to decide once the fight seems likely. If it ever does."
She took another few ruminative puffs on her pipe and then straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat.
Minerva recognised the signs of Wilhelmina Coming to a Decision.
"What?" she demanded.
"Been thinking about a line in that letter." Willa Summoned her copy and then took up her monocle from the bedside table. "Wasn't going to say anything, but decided I'd better. Listen." Peering through her monocle, she read, "'these two lovers, despite having so long ensnared each other's senses, have to live publicly as though they are nearly strangers.' That phrase -- 'ensnared each other's senses.' Remind you of anything?"
She glanced at Minerva shrewdly. "Guessing it does; you must have recognised it same as I did."
Minerva nodded. "It's what Severus always used to say to the potions students."
"Probably doesn't mean anything, of course," Willa said. "Lots of people have heard that line over the years." She dropped the parchment and her monocle back on the table and then raised the edge of the duvet invitingly. "Come on, let's get some sleep."
Minerva wanded out the candles and lay down. Willa spooned behind her, kissed her neck, and mumbled, "'Night, love."
Long after Willa's regular breathing proclaimed her to be asleep, Minerva lay staring into the darkness.
Three days later, she Apparated to a Muggle village some distance from Hogwarts. On its outskirts, behind a tall hedge, stood a small cottage. It was well kept, its windows clean and snugly-fitted, the hedge neatly trimmed. Smoke curled from the stone chimney.
Minerva paused as she approached. She'd sent an owl, but she was not sure how she'd be received. . .or if she'd be received at all.
Yet even as she wondered, the red door of the cottage opened, and Severus Snape came out upon the stone step.
To virtually all of the wizarding world, Severus -- Hogwarts' famous double-agent -- was a dead hero. Only Minerva, Kingsley, and St. Mungo's head healer knew that he was a living one.
He was frighteningly thin and leant heavily upon a walking stick, but he motioned to her peremptorily, his old imperiousness intact, and Minerva nearly smiled.
"Come in, don't just stand there gawping," he snapped as soon as she was in hearing distance. "And don't tell me I'm looking well," he added as he noticed her appraisal of him. "You know I hate being lied to."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Minerva assured him, entering the tidy front room. "Especially since you're actually looking rather appalling."
Snape's lips twitched, and he followed her inside. "I told you of my whereabouts on the very remote chance that in the future -- the far distant future, I'd hoped -- some seriously desperate circumstance might make it necessary for you to contact me. But here you've barely lasted six months before you apparently feel the need of a social call."
"Well, and it's good to see you, too, Severus. I'm glad the near-fatal snake bite did nothing to diminish your charm."
He ignored this. "Sit down and pour yourself some tea," he said, lowering himself stiffly into an armchair. "Don't think I'm going to wait on you. There's a bottle of Ogden's on the sideboard if you want something stronger."
Despite his apparent disdain for social calls, Severus had loaded a small table with tea things and a plate of cakes.
As soon as she'd supplied herself with a fortified cuppa, he said, all irony gone, "What's wrong, Minerva?"
"It's nothing 'seriously desperate,' to use your words," she replied. "But it's worrisome." Quickly, she outlined the Lady Wandsdown saga.
"In one sense, of course, Poppy is right," she concluded. "No real harm seems to have been done. So far. But it's de-stabilising, and that's something we don't need right now. It's already had some effect: Rolanda is less exuberant than usual, and -- "
"Surely you aren't suggesting that's a bad thing," Severus interrupted.
"Well. . .it's certainly not typical. She's preoccupied and distracted; clearly she's giving this training school a lot of thought, and it's taking most of her attention."
"What about Filius and Pomona?"
Minerva grimaced. "At first they barely spoke to each other; then they went through a period of being excruciatingly polite and formal. At least now they've become friendly again, but as for romance, well, who knows? I certainly don't, and I'm not going to try to find out. If they've gone in that direction, they're keeping it to themselves. But this whole business has definitely made for some very strained afternoons in the staff room."
"I can imagine," said Severus. "But what I can't yet quite see is what all this has to do with me."
"See if this will stimulate your Inner Eye," said Minerva, reaching into her bag. "Here is the most recent letter; it came a few days ago. I think you'll be able to tell why some of us thought of you."
He read the parchment she handed him, his brow furrowed. "'Ensnare the senses,' yes, I see," he said finally.
He leant forward and spoke solemnly. "Minerva, I give you my word of honour that I had nothing do with this. Not this letter, not any of it. For one thing, I have no patience with such silly games, not after all I've been through. And for another, I hope you know that I would never expose you and Wilhelmina against your wishes. Not under any circumstances. I mean, be serious! I never even breathed a word to Voldemort. . . and you think I'd tell the likes of Kingsley Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley?"
Minerva had to chuckle. "No, of course I didn't really think so. But you understand why I had to ask. I'm rather out of any other ideas at this point."
Severus added a drop of Ogden's to his own tea. Minerva was fairly certain this was against his Muggle doctors' orders, but she understood the need.
"None of my business, obviously," he said, taking a long sip. "But I've lived most of my life behind secrets, and believe me, it's better to be free of them. Much better."
He waited a beat to make sure she'd got his message and then went on, "As for Lady Wandsdown, or whoever the hell is writing these ludicrous letters, I suggest you look closer to home. So far the focus has all been on Hogwarts and things learnt there; that's where you'll find your culprit."
"I suspect you're right," Minerva agreed, rising to leave. "Thank you, Severus; you've been very helpful."
Severus looked affronted. "Oh, that's just perfect," he said with his old sneer. "You barge in here, fling around some false accusations, pick my brain, drink my liquor. . .and now you're planning to leave without even being civil enough to offer me some decent conversation first. Typical self-centred Gryffindor."
"Why, Severus! If I didn't know better, I'd think you were lonely."
"Don't be absurd. But as long as you're here, and I've gone to the trouble of offering you tea, I expect some recompense. If I'm going to be forced to provide unpaid counsel and advice to the head of Hogwarts, I'm at least going to need to be briefed on what else is happening there."
"Of course." Minerva sat down again and reached for a cake. "I wouldn't want to intrude," she said blandly, "but if you are willing to assist me occasionally, it might be helpful if I were to make fairly regular. . .er, informational visits. To fill you in about Hogwarts."
"Apparently I am never to be free of that benighted institution," Severus huffed. "Fine. Come once a month or so. Send an owl first. Now pour yourself more tea and tell me how badly Gryffindor is doing at Quidditch."
Sunday afternoon, 20 December, found Minerva in the staff room, presiding over a meeting between her heads of houses and the four members of the Ministry Yule Ball Committee.
Invitations to the ball had already been owled; food and décor were arranged. This final meeting was merely to settle last-minute details, and Minerva was pleased when they managed to conclude their business with only minimal tussles over the remaining division of labour and with only one moment of asperity from the usually argumentative Sage Bagnold, head of the Department of Magical Transportation.
"I hope you can all stay for for dinner in the Great Hall," Minerva said to the Ministry people as the meeting concluded. "There will be cocktails beforehand here in the staff room in about an hour."
Bagnold, of course, needed to bustle fussily away, but the others happily accepted.
"Nothing like a delicious Hogwarts feast," declared Wilkie Twycross, who travelled from the Ministry a few times a year to give the students Apparition lessons. "It's always my favourite part of coming to the school."
"And here I thought your favourite part would be students splinching themselves," chuckled Griselda Marchbanks, a tiny old woman whose wrinkled face adorned one of the sharpest minds in the Ministry. As long-time governor of the Wizarding Examinations Authority, she was a familiar annual visitor who was quite at home in the Castle.
"I'd love to stay for dinner," she told Minerva. "You don't mind if I wander the corridors for a bit first? Have to fit in my daily constitutional."
She set off. Horace carried the other Ministry members off to his rooms for pre-cocktail cocktails, and Minerva and her remaining staff breathed sighs of relief.
"Be glad to get this Yule Ball over with," said Wilhelmina.
"Won't we all?" said Pomona, rising. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some marking to do before dinner."
"So do I," said Filius, hopping to his feet and exclaiming jovially, "Homework doesn't mark itself, you know." He hurried out after Pomona.
Minerva raised an interested eyebrow. "I've never seen so much excitement about marking before," she said.
"Aye," nodded Willa. "The game's afoot, I'd say, though I wouldn't want to bet on which one is the game and which the hunter. Well, I'm off to tend the unicorns. See you at dinner, love." Since they were by themselves, she gave Minerva a quick peck on the cheek and strode out.
With a cat-like stretch, Minerva leant back in her chair. This was the first time she'd been alone, without even portraits, in. . .actually, probably in days. She knew she should use this time to think about some of the thorny questions she needed to face, but the desire to leave things behind for a while was too strong.
With a pop, she transformed into her cat self and was soon napping on the rug in front of the fire.
"Minerva! Minerva!"
Someone was shaking her, ruffling her fur, and Minerva let out an irritated meow.
When she opened her eyes to see the deeply-lined face of Madam Professor Marchbanks bending over her, she returned to her human form at once.
"My apologies, Griselda," she said, getting to her feet and running a surreptitious hand over her hair. "The fire was just too tempting."
Griselda waved these words away. "Never mind that; of course you need time to relax. Come, sit down; I've something to show you."
But when they were side-by-side on a sofa, the old woman made no move to show anything. Instead, she used her wand to light a thin cigarette.
"Kingsley," she said finally, taking a puff and charming the smoke away. "Kingsley will have told you that he and Arthur and I received copies of that letter from your Lady Wandsdown."
"Hardly my Lady Wandsdown," corrected Minerva, "but yes, he told me."
"Well, I hope it goes without saying that none of us cares two figs about whom you share your bed with. Unless it's a student, of course."
"I have no interest in bedding students."
"Of course you don't; who said you did?" demanded Griselda sharply. She smoked furiously for a moment. "The point here is that this Lady Wandsdown seems to be trying to stir up trouble, and I'm trying to tell you that it's all bollocks. You're an excellent headmistress, Wilhelmina is a fine professor, and the Ministry and the Board of Governors are more than satisfied with you both."
"Thank you," Minerva replied. "I'm glad to hear it."
"But I don't want to talk about that now," said Griselda, her tone accusatory, as if Minerva had been the one to introduce such an irrelevant topic. "I want to show you this."
She held out a digest-sized book.
The lurid, moving cover showed a busty woman in an old-fashioned gown, high-waisted and cleavage-baring. Bosom rising and falling rapidly, she repeatedly fainted toward a handsome, rakish man wearing the sort of tail-coated robe and neck stock that rich wizards had favoured about two hundred years earlier. Over and over, he caught the woman in one arm, then used his other hand to point his wand at a pile of parchment, setting it aflame.
The title Lady Scandalship's Magical Surrender scrolled across the top of the cover in flowing red letters.
"Er. . .your recommendation for Yuletide reading?" Minerva asked, bemused.
"Of course not, though it's probably a corker. A little escapist fiction never hurt anyone. No, I'm showing you this because I just found it in the Room of Requirement."
There was a pause while Griselda Vanished the butt of her first cigarette and lit another.
"I stopped there during my walk, you know," she continued. "I asked the Room for a place to rest my old bones, and it gave me a sort of Regency boudoir with gold hangings and mirrors on the walls and a long gold sofa heaped with tasselled cushions. Very comfy, it was, too -- good fire, dozens of candles. This book was lying on the sofa. I think you'll find it extremely interesting. Go on, read the blurb."
On the back of the book Minerva read, "Miss Lucy Wandsdown had never found the gentleman who could tempt her hand in marriage. As she watched her friends make one painfully bad alliance after another, all for the want of proper guidance, she decided that her life's work lay in supporting the sisterhood -- offering wise counsel to young women through disinterested, helpful letters. Thus was 'Lady Scandalship' born.
"All went swimmingly -- her Ladyship wrote her letters; right loves were found, and wrong matches averted -- until the dashing, mysterious Lord Dandridge arrived for the Season, oozing danger from the tip of his top hat to the soles of his bespoke boots. His apparent object? The affections of Lady Scandalship herself. Will Miss Wandsdown heed her own sage advice about suitable partners? Or will she fall headlong into the pit of risky love?"
Minerva turned astonished eyes to Griselda, who nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh. Told you you needed to see this. Obviously someone here at Hogwarts has decided to turn this little fantasy"-- she gestured with her cigarette towards the book -- "into a twisted reality. But who, eh? That's the question."
"I think I might know the answer," said Minerva slowly. "I didn't want to believe it was possible, but -- Beldy!" she called.
"Your headship needs Beldy?" said the elf, popping into the room. His eyes widened when he saw the book in her hand.
"Does this book belong to you, Beldy?" Minerva asked.
The elf nodded slowly. "But Beldy did not steal it from the library, your divine headship!" he burst out, his elaborate vocabulary deserting him under stress. "It is Beldy's own property; he traded for it last summer. All those visiting elves came with their masters to rebuild Hogwarts, and they brought things with them. To trade; it is the elf way. Beldy traded for that book fair and square!"
"That's fine, Beldy; I'm not accusing you of stealing it. But it's a book about a lady writing anonymous letters, isn't it?"
Beldy nodded again.
"Surely you can see my dilemma. I know you don't lie, and you told me that you didn't write those letters. But this is your book, and it's a story about secret letters. Written by someone named Miss Wandsdown. And here at Hogwarts, we've been receiving mysterious letters written by a mysterious lady called Wandsdown."
"Beldy didn't do it!" cried the elf.
"Did anyone ask you to copy letters from this book, or write down letters that they dictated to you?
"No, your headship!"
"Do you know who did write the Hogwarts letters?"
"Beldy does not know; he swears it."
"Has anyone else been reading this book?"
Beldy shook his head so violently that he staggered a bit from dizziness. "It is Beldy's book just for himself."
Griselda Marchbanks had been listening keenly, and now she spoke. "Beldy, where do you go to read your book?"
"Beldy uses the Room of Requirement," said the elf promptly. "Or as he prefers to call it, the Chamber of Perquisite. Beldy goes there on his days off. It is a grand place to read and study -- a nice fire and many candles and a long, soft golden sofa. For the objective of reclining," he added.
"And do you leave your books there when you finish reading?" Minerva asked.
Beldy nodded vigorously.
Just then the staff room door opened, and Hooch strode in. "Merlin, but I'm ready for a drink," she was saying to Aurora Sinistra. "Yet another reason to love the Yuletide -- Christmas drinks on the Hogwarts tab every night for a week. Oh, here's Min."
Minerva stood. "The drinks table will be set up shortly," she told Rolanda.
To Beldy, who was standing by looking anxious, she said quietly, "Thank you, Beldy. Everything is fine now, don't worry. Please continue to enjoy the Room of Requirement whenever you like."
The elf bowed and disappeared. Other staff members were now trickling in -- Horace and the Ministry Committee, Hagrid carrying his giant tankard. Filius, Poppy. and Septima. Wilhelmina, who caught Minerva's eye and winked.
Under cover of the resulting noise and chatter, Griselda whispered to Minerva, "Seems like I'm not the only one who found the elf's Room of Requirement." She grinned and amended, "Chamber of Perquisites, I mean. Lady Wandsdown obviously found it, too. But we're still no closer to knowing who she is, are we?"
Minerva shook her head.
"Well, I'll give it some thought," Griselda said. "Meanwhile, I think I'll have a little chat with Hooch about her fascinating Wandsdown letter. A training school. Interesting possibilities, no?"
She walked off. Minerva stayed where she was. Generations of Hogwarts students would have recognised her thin-lipped expression and quaked in their boots accordingly.
"I think it's my turn to pay a visit to the Chamber of Perquisites," she said to herself. "We'll see what it can show me. Merlin knows I have requirement enough."
It was Christmas Eve before the Room of Requirement opened for Minerva onto the setting that Beldy and Griselda had described: a rococo fantasy of elegantly-curved furniture legs, subdued turkey carpets, mirrored walls with gold hangings, dozens of candles, a blazing fire.
But the room was not empty.
Seated on the golden sofa was a woman.
She wore a high-waisted, scoop-necked dress of ice-blue, rather like an older woman's much more decorous version of the bosom-baring gown on the cover of Beldy's romance novel. Long white gloves covered her arms to above her elbows, and diamonds glittered at her ears and throat, their reflections twinkling brightly in the room's many mirrors.
Minerva found it impossible to determine her age. Her abundant hair, piled in a fluffy knot atop her head, was white, but her skin was smooth; her dark eyes watched Minerva with a penetrating stare.
"Headmistress McGonagall," the woman said. Her voice sounded rusty, as if she spoke rarely. "Minerva. We meet in person at last."
"Who are you?" demanded Minerva, drawing her wand.
The woman laughed. "My dear, you live up to your warlike name, and of course the school has long been the better for your courage. But you have no need to point your wand. It couldn't harm me, and it does seem rather unfriendly. Come. Sit with me and talk."
An ice-blue armchair shimmered into being next to Minerva, and suddenly she was sitting in it, her wand back in her sleeve. She tried to leap to her feet, but was unable to move. A wandless Immobulus jinx, evidently.
"Who are you?" Minerva repeated, forcing herself to speak calmly despite her pounding heart.
The woman tilted her handsome head consideringly. "I suppose you could say that I am Lady Wandsdown."
"Lady -- " Minerva struggled to makes sense of this; questions tumbled through her head. "But. . .how did you get here? Are you a ghost? And why are you tormenting us with those letters?"
"Tormenting you!" Lady Wandsdown looked shocked. "My dear, nothing could be further from the truth. I am not 'tormenting' you; I am helping you! I could never harm the staff of Hogwarts. . .well, at least not those who love her."
"Helping us?" Minerva was angry now. "You have been scaring people, violating their privacy, exposing them to possible ridicule and censure and perhaps even the loss of their livelihoods!"
Lady Wandsdown pressed a gloved hand to her chest. "No, no, you misunderstand! Hogwarts could ask for no better staff, yet I know that many of you are still not as happy or satisfied as I would wish. I am trying to help you become your best selves, free and at peace."
"As you would wish? What right have you to meddle in any of our lives? Just who are you?"
A broad smile spread across Lady Wandsdown's face.
"If you were not so stressed and agitated, you would have divined the truth long ere now, dear Minerva; you were a Ravenclaw-Gryffindor hatstall for good reason," she said. "Who am I, you ask?
"I am the Castle. I am Hogwarts."
For a moment, Minerva would not have been able to rise from her chair even if the use of her limbs had been returned to her.
"You're what?" she gasped.
"I am Hogwarts. Yes," nodded her ladyship. "I have put my consciousness into this unprecedented corporeal form because. . .well, for many reasons, but largely because I believe that times of important change require bold new moves, new ways of doing. And also because I wanted to talk with you, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. As a friend."
She patted Minerva's still-Immobulised arm.
"I have loved all of my headmasters and headmistresses," she went on, "yes, even Phineas Nigellus and that Trimble man, for they gave me their best. I did not, of course, love the unspeakable Madam Umbridge, but then, I never recognised her as a true headmistress.
"But you, Minerva -- you and Dilys and Albus, you three have been especially close to my heart. There is so much of all the Founders in you, my dear: you are a fit heir to Godric's courage and Rowena's intelligence, you are as compassionate as Helga --" here she dimpled and added, "though you have much more of a temper. And you have the best of Salazar's craftiness. So I decided to meet you."
"Thank you," Minerva said automatically, feeling dazed. "I think. But -- "
"This is a surprising move on my part, I know," said the Lady Hogwarts. "So it is no wonder that you are wary. But since the Battle. . .well, the fact is that you nearly lost me in the war; I did not believe I could return after being so wounded and broken. I seriously considered shutting myself down. Yet I did not -- because there was so much strength and dedication in everyone's loving restoration of me that I changed my mind. I am back to stay."
"I'm glad," said Minerva.
But beneath the civilized conversation, her mind was racing. Could this woman possibly actually be the personification of Hogwarts Castle itself?
The idea seemed preposterous, but Minerva had to admit that this solution would fully explain how the mysterious "Lady Wandsdown" had known so many secrets: the sentient Castle would have heard, many times, Severus's annual speech about "ensnaring the senses"; it would have overheard Hooch's and Pomona's floo calls; it would have seen her and Wilhelmina together in private; it might even -- perish the thought -- be aware of people's sexually "busy" fingers.
And with the same magic that animated the Room of Requirement, the Castle could easily have created the physical letters themselves and caused them to appear -- "like magic" -- on people's desks and plates.
As bizarre as it was, the story made sense.
On balance, Minerva was convinced. . .and by more than just the logic. Somehow, the situation was beginning to seem, well, right, like something she had always known. She felt almost at one with the Castle.
Hogwarts seemed to sense her support, for the white-haired Lady smiled warmly. "As I say, I have determined that things will be different now. I will no longer be content just to watch my teachers and students find their homes within me. I wish to participate -- albeit with only a selected few."
She touched Minerva's arm again, and Minerva could feel the Immobulus jinx release its grip. She could move once more.
"These letters," she said, leaning forward but making no attempt to leave. "These 'Lady Wandsdown' letters. They feel frightening, divisive rather than healing."
The Lady Hogwarts looked thoughtful. "Such was truly not my intent. I had tried to communicate with everyone earlier this term, by altering the staircases and the Charms corridor, but these methods were ineffective."
"In a word," said Minerva dryly, and she could feel the Castle's amusement.
"In my defence, I will remind you that at that point, I was still not completely repaired," her ladyship smiled. "I daresay I was not thinking clearly. In any event, I sought another approach. Then the little elf -- Beldy, is it? -- left his book in the Room of Requirement, and I -- Hmm. How best to explain? I was able to absorb, let us say, a few chapters, and in the book at least, the letters appeared to do some good. The good characters ended well, and the bad ended badly, which seemed exactly the thing. So I borrowed a paragraph from 'Lady Scandalship' to start and then continued on my own."
"But," objected Minerva, "to tell all our secrets -- "
"My dear!" exclaimed the Castle. "Don't you see that that is precisely the point? The secrets were getting in the way of everyone's happiness! Dear Hooch was a mass of contradictory feelings: she didn't want to seem disloyal to you or to me, but she was no longer content to spend her life teaching broom skills to children. Poor Pomona and Filius were pining -- simply pining -- and for such unnecessary reasons. And you, my girl -- " here she fixed Minerva with a worried stare -- "you and your beloved are missing so much potential joy."
"I don't -- "
The lady lifted a finger to forestall Minerva's response. "No, just listen. I know your arguments about your right to privacy, and of course I agree. If you and Wilhelmina are both satisfied with the situation as it is, then no outsider should interfere, not even me. But that is the question, of course, my love: are you thus satisfied?"
Minerva was silent. She'd kept her private affairs private for so long that it had become just the way things were; she no longer thought about how life might be different or whether it even could be different.
Did she really want it to be? What might a more public life look like? More importantly, would it unsettle what she and Willa already had?
Or would their lives be even better?
"I don't know," she said at last.
Lady Hogwarts smiled kindly. "Nor do I," she said. "Only you can decide. But I have no doubt that you will think things out most carefully. As for myself, I am feeling much better about my staff now. I think the letters have helped Hooch and Filius and Pomona. But I shall cease sending them, if you think it best."
"I do," said Minerva, almost sternly. "I do indeed."
"Well, then." Her ladyship got to her feet and unfurled the fan that suddenly appeared in her hand. It seemed that the audience was over. "I leave you to return to your Christmas Eve celebrations and later, I hope, to your Willa's arms. Good night, dear Minerva, and Happy Yuletide."
"I -- thank you, Lady Hogwarts," Minerva said. No other words seemed quite possible just then.
She was about to stand up when the lady spoke one last time.
"Headmistress," Hogwarts said, and it seemed to Minerva that the outline of her body was beginning to fade, "now that we've made each other's official acquaintance, I look forward to taking this form again and visiting with you occasionally. But only occasionally. The rest of the time, just know that you are surrounded, quite literally, by my support and care."
She smiled almost impishly and added, "And by the most stable of staircases and corridors, of course."
With a final gesture of her fan, she disappeared.
Minerva sat for a long time, alone with the candles, the mirrors, and her many complicated thoughts.
By eight o'clock on the evening of Boxing Day, the Ministry Yule Ball was in full swing.
The Great Hall of Hogwarts was unrecognisable as its usual self. Filius, Hagrid, and several Ministry volunteers had transformed the Hall into a glorious forest of white and gold trees, their branches illuminated from within, the light falling on pillowy drifts of "snow" that served as comfortable couches. The enchanted ceiling sparkled with stars.
Trays of champagne and savoury treats floated among the dozens of guests; Filius's charms ensured that nothing spilled or got in anyone's way. Anyone who wanted water or wine or ale or tea had merely to tap their glass and whisper their preference.
A dais draped with holly and evergreen stood in place of the usual high table, and a dance floor glittered in front of it, wisps of glowing red and green smoke swirling gracefully around the dancers.
Minerva surveyed the scene with satisfaction and no little amount of relief. In a few short hours, her official duties would be over, and she could start what she thought of as her real Christmas -- three days at Wilhelmina's cottage, the school left in Filius's capable hands, her only companions her books and her Willa.
"Pretty, what?" said the very woman. Willa had come up beside her and was indicating the bedecked hall.
"Lovely," Minerva agreed. They watched the dancers companionably until they saw Kingsley coming toward them looking purposeful. Willa gave Minerva's elbow a quick, unseen squeeze and moved off; they'd long since perfected ways to secretly acknowledge each other in public.
"I expect you're just as ready for this to be over as I am," Kingsley said as he reached her side.
"Definitely," said Minerva, taking her first glass of champagne from a passing tray. One drink only before the speeches; that was her rule.
Kingsley snagged a flute for himself. "I need this," he groaned, taking a long swallow. "What a term this has been. Still, apparently all's well that ends well."
"Yes." Minerva had told the staff about her encounter with "Lady Wandsdown" and had owled a report to Kingsley, Griselda, and Arthur (whom she had seen earlier jitterbugging with Molly), but otherwise, the story would go no further.
"At least some good has come of it all," Kingley said, and he nodded toward Filius and Pomona.
Filius had charmed himself to hover in the air at Pomona's height; they were holding each other close for a slow dance, trading brief kisses as they swayed together, oblivious to the crowd.
Minerva smiled. "Some good indeed. And you might not be surprised to hear, Kingsley, that Rolanda Hooch came to see me earlier today. To submit her resignation, as of the end of spring term."
He gave a low whistle. "She's starting her training school?"
"She's starting her training school."
"Well, good for Hooch!" Kingsley lifted his glass in a toast. "Here's to the successful conclusion of our mystery letter-writer and our ball. And to getting through our speeches."
Minerva touched her glass to his. "To the conclusion."
"Ready for the spotlight?" he asked after a moment, letting his champagne flute vanish into the charmed air. He held out his arm; Minerva took it, and they set off for the dais.
Kingsley motioned the band to silence, and his magically-amplified voice boomed out over the crowd. "Greetings of the season to you all. On behalf of the Ministry of Magic and the staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I'm pleased to welcome you all to this year's Yule Ball."
His smooth voice went on, touching briefly on the horrors of the year just passed but moving almost at once to the promise of the future, and Minerva stopped listening. She let her mind drift on the current of Kingsley's soothing cadences, surfacing only when she heard him say, "And not that she needs any introduction, but it gives me great pleasure to present to you everyone's favourite professor, our esteemed headmistress, Minerva McGonagall."
Minerva had thought long and hard about this moment, and she stepped forward resolutely, silencing the applause with a quick wave of her hand.
"I won't keep you long from your dancing and drinks," she said. "Merlin knows we've all earned a party. But I would be remiss if I did not thank the many people who made this lovely evening possible."
She carefully named every helper, from her own staff to the ministry workers to the decorating committee to the dedicated elves who had prepared the food.
Then she took a deep breath, summoned her inner Godric Gryffindor, and said, "My final thanks go to the person who deserves all the gratitude and adoration that I can offer her. It's long past time for me to publicly acknowledge my beloved life partner -- Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank."
A moment of stunned silence followed this announcement. Then, after a shout from Hooch -- "About time!" -- a buzz of chatter started and swelled as guests looked at each other with wild surmise. Some were clearly asking if they'd heard what they thought they'd heard; many cheered and grinned; several waved happily at Minerva from the crowd.
Of course, some looked horrified; others were frowning and scowling. One member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors had already cornered Arthur Weasley and was gesticulating angrily.
Ah, well. Minerva had always known that some sort of fight was inevitable.
She hadn't thought she wanted it. But as she'd sat in the Room of Requirement on Christmas Eve, she'd realised that somewhere along the line -- as she'd talked with Kingsley and Griselda and Severus and Willa and the astounding Lady Hogwarts -- her decision had made itself: she was ready, at last, to show her true self to her world.
And whatever fight might come, she would, as Kingsley had said, "deal with it."
Because "Lady Wandsdown" had been right: -- "We have been backward long enough".
The time had come to embrace a better age.
Whatever its fights or promises, though, the future was the future, and at the moment, Minerva didn't care about it.
At the moment she had eyes for only two things:
Wilhelmina's brilliant smile, beaming up at her in front of the dais.
And the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, where the Lady Hogwarts was offering her reaction.
Gone were the decorous, distant stars that had shone down upon them earlier.
The Castle's enchanted sky was now blazing with the bursting green, blue, and red dazzle of the Northern Lights.
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Date: 2022-01-18 06:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2022-01-18 11:54 pm (UTC)