Author's Note: While the restaurant itself is fictional, I used the actual menus from other similar restaurants in Edinburgh to create the menu for Thistle and Heather. I also tried to portray Edinburgh as accurately as possible. I apologize for any mistakes I made. For anyone interested in a picture, I based Jonathan Ashford partly off the character Jack McCoy in Law and Order. Once again, thank you to my reviewers.
Chapter 6:
Minerva scrutinized her appearance in the mirror. Although most witches and wizards never learned how to properly blend in the Muggle world, Minerva considered the skill essential. Pretending that the two worlds only touched each other in specific places was pure foolishness. If one world prospered, the other prospered as well. If one world suffered, that suffering inevitably crossed the invisible lines which usually separated the Wizarding population from the Muggles. Quite apart from that, Minerva believed that the Wizarding world could stand to learn lessons from the Muggle world. Innovation, hard work, tolerance, to name a few. Over the course of her life, Minerva had often needed to bridge both worlds. When she became Head of Gryffindor, Albus had requested that she act as a liaison between the parents of Muggle-borns and Hogwarts. Based on her own experiences traversing both worlds, she tried to make the transition easier on all concerned. Dressing and acting as a normal Muggle helped her to gain trust and credibility.
The outfit she had chosen today consisted of a simple black pantsuit with an emerald silk blouse. With the addition of a handbag and sensible black boots, she could pass easily as a Muggle businesswoman. Unlike a Muggle however, the right jacket sleeve contained a hidden sheath for her wand. Securing the clasp of the necklace, Minerva touched the crystal teardrop l pendant. It pulsed warmly beneath her fingertips. Enchanted to maintain her connection to the wards over distances, the pendant would burn if a threat was detected within Hogwarts. Moreover, the pendant could act as Portkey directly to the Headmaster's office upon command. It had taken Albus and her almost two years to charm the wards to allow for this touchstone, but they had deemed it a necessary precaution if both of them had to be away from the castle during perilous times. Attuned to her personal magical signature, the pendant lay dormant unless needed, a mere ornament. Minerva perched on the edge of her chair to pull a pair of low-heeled boots. Standing up, she regarded her image one last time. The students would probably not even recognize me. Her lips quirked upwards as she remembered Harry's reaction to her in a Muggle outfit the past summer. For an instant, he obviously didn't realize who she was. Then his eyes had widened, blinking slowly several times, and his jaw dropped open before Molly had shooed him upstairs. The students seem to believe that their professors are somehow part of the castle itself and don't exist outside the influence of Hogwarts. It must come as a great shock that we are every bit as human as they are.
Satisfied with her reflection, Minerva slipped her wand into place. Hopefully, Glaucus would return soon with a note from Filius or Pomona. She currently had thirty minutes to spare, counting the time to reach the Hogwarts' boundaries so that she could apparate. Restless, she double-checked the contents of the briefcase she intended to take. Files on Umbridge, Fudge, texts of the Educational Decrees, statements from parents, intelligence on Malfoy and other contributors, testimonies from students and professors, Hogwarts rules and procedures…Everything is here.
"Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape requests admittance," called her portrait, Queen Maeve, a powerful witch who had trained young witches and wizards in the medieval ages before the Founders established Hogwarts. Her voice easily carried into Minerva's bedroom from her sitting room.
"Let him in please Maeve." Emerging from the bedroom, Minerva greeted Severus as he stepped into the room. "What can I do for you Severus? I don't have much time so try not to ramble."
"Playing dress-up Minerva?" Severus smirked. Minerva deigned to answer verbally, limiting her response to a scorching glare. "I merely came by to drop off the marks for your fifth years." By the time he reached "fifth years," his tone had turned acidic. What exactly happened between Harry and Severus recently? Minerva wondered. Never pleasant towards Potter, Severus had not been amused when Albus informed him that he would be teaching Harry Occlumency. Strangely though, the lessons resulted in a decrease in Severus' habitual griping about the boy. I had hoped that Severus might have begun to perceive Harry as a completely separate person from James. But, something happened after Albus left…something to cause Severus to reverse that progress. Unfortunately, Severus would be more likely to befriend Lockhart than to divulge what transpired between Harry and him. Nonetheless, Minerva resolved to give Severus the opportunity to explain as soon as possible. She suspected that he had stopped Harry's lessons and had not informed Dumbledore yet since he had deliberately scheduled himself to supervise detentions to avoid the last Order meeting. Albus would doubtless demand a full explanation which Severus clearly did not want to give.
"Thank you, Severus. I have fifth year Slytherins right over here," said Minerva, moving towards her desk. "Altogether, nothing out of the ordinary to mention. I'm reasonably certain that most of them should be able to pass by on an Acceptable, perhaps higher if they put effort into it. Crabbe and Goyle, on the other hand," she paused, "will not pass. They simply are not capable of achieving the necessary results." Exchanging papers, she glanced at her Gryffindors' scores. As expected, Hermione Granger topped the list while Neville Longbottom finished last. Augusta will not be pleased. Neville will probably not receive the necessary O.W.L. to advance in either Potions or Transfiguration. If she continues to push him next year, I'll confront her. She has blinded herself to the merits of her grandson because he fails to fit her preconceived notions.
"If they were not in my house, I would observe that their intelligence level rivals that of the slugs I use in class. However, since they are Slytherins, I will refrain from noticing it." Placing her notes in an inner pocket, Severus strode over to her wall of bookcases. "I assume you have other Bradbury works?"
"Try Fahrenheit 451. I found it apocalyptic, dark, and pessimistic. You should enjoy it." Not long after Severus' arrival at the school as a professor, Minerva and he began borrowing books from each other. To their surprise, they shared an interest in Muggle authors. During the winter nights, they often debated interpretations in her quarters. Minerva thought of them as verbal fencing matches. Well aware of the sharpness of her tongue, Minerva rarely permitted herself to engage in bantering with any other person besides Severus who always responded with expert skill. Besides, it was excellent practice for when she used wordplay to outwit or outmaneuver people like Dolores Umbridge. With Severus, she deliberately refrained from exploiting her knowledge of his background and weaknesses to grind an edge sharp enough to draw blood. An unspoken understanding underlay their relationship even when they disagreed vehemently. Mutual respect had no place in her relationship with Dolores and Minerva felt absolutely no guilt about using every weapon at her disposal to discomfort, destabilize, and discredit the Ministry-approved Headmistress. It's almost too easy to run rings around her intellectually. No challenge at all. If she didn't have Ministry support, I wouldn't consider her worth my notice. Minerva consulted the clock on her desk. Twenty minutes to go before she would be late. What are you doing, Pomona? Filius?
Having found the book, Severus skimmed the first page and decided that it would suffice. He eyed Minerva as she opened the window and began to pace. Who would she be meeting? Considering the Muggle clothing, I assume it's someone who would feel comfortable in that world. No Muggle would be able to help in the current situation therefore it must be a witch or wizard. Someone powerful enough to pose a threat to Fudge and the Toad if he or she became involved which explains why Minerva would choose to meet them in the Muggle world. Noticing the increasing quickness of her steps, Severus debated how long the Scot's patience would last. Just as he was about to remark on her characteristically Gryffindor behavior, an owl flew in. Severus immediately recognized Minerva's Glaucus.
"Finally," Minerva murmured as Glaucus swooped in to land on his perch. Wandlessly refilling his water bowl, Minerva then reached to untie the scroll from his leg. "It appears that Filius and Pomona have successfully distracted Dolores for the next few hours. Severus, I will be unavailable for two to three hours. If something serious should happen, help Filius as best you can and call for Fawkes." Minerva didn't mention that she had a method of keeping track of the wards while away from Hogwarts. For safety's sake, Albus and she agreed not to reveal that particular achievement to anyone else. It was by no means foolproof and Minerva could still theoretically be cut off from Hogwarts in a crisis. It's better than nothing, she thought, and I have no choice except to meet him outside of the Ministry's radar. Damn that woman for chasing me out of my own home in order to converse with an old friend. With whom I aim to plot against her, but that is quite beside the point. It's the principle of the matter.
"I understand. It would be pointless to ask where you are going and who you are meeting, I assume?"
"You assume correctly, Severus. I have no objection if you wish to browse my library. I would advise against marking in the margins. You do remember what happened the last time you forgot?" Forty years of teaching experience had one potential benefit: decades of pranks as inspiration for creative paybacks. Severus had found every quill he owned bewitched in some fashion. One slowly shrunk until he couldn't maintain a grip on it while another had grown so large it touched the ceiling. Once he released the quills, they would revert to their regular sizes. One quill caused his words to reverse themselves when Severus finished writing. Another, regardless of what color ink it was dipped in, wrote solely in bright pink interspersed with neon orange and baby blue. The last one wrote perfectly, but had a tendency to sprout legs and walk off or to grow arms and escape the drawer. Naturally, Severus preferred this last quill. He spent two days repeatedly tearing apart his office, quarters, and classroom to locate it.
"I won't harm your precious books," Severus retorted. "Aren't you supposed to be leaving?" Commandeering an armchair, Severus stretched his legs out in front of him. He might as well stay in Minerva's quarters. Headmistress in name, Dolores had not yet dared to invade Minerva's quarters without permission. No one would think to look for him here and he anticipated an afternoon spent undisturbed by pestering students or the Fudge's patsy.
With a casual flick of her wrist, Minerva summoned her briefcase, purse, and a plain gray cloak. Donning the cloak, she shrank the other items to fit inside a pocket. It wouldn't do to run into a member of the Inquisitorial Squad who would run to tattle on me. Avoiding questions by my own students, that is simply depressing.
"Maeve, please inform any callers that I am not to be disturbed. Direct them to Professor Flitwick or Sprout if they require immediate attention. I'll see you when I return Severus." Engrossed in his book, Severus barely nodded in acknowledgement. Minerva smiled faintly, waiting for the portrait to swing open completely.
As the portrait swung close behind her Severus called, "Do try not to get yourself into trouble. Dumbledore would blame us for not stopping you and I refuse to deal with that." The portal closed with a soft thud. "Good luck, Professor."
Utilizing the hidden staircases and shortcuts, Minerva reached the Entrance Hall and slipped out into the bright sunshine. The students were too preoccupied with their own activities to notice the Transfiguration Mistress' progress towards the edges of the Forbidden Forest. Once safe in the shadows of the trees, a pop signaled Minerva's transformation. A tabby cat darted out across the lawn heading for the gates. Pushing on the gates with a paw, the tabby nipped through the slender gap which appeared. After rounding the corner in the path, Minerva regained her human form. Sometimes, a small Animagus shape can be exceedingly useful. Her cloak became an elegant coat while her briefcase and purse were restored to their proper sizes. For a moment, a resident of Hogsmeade or Hogwarts would have been puzzled to find a Muggle woman on the path between the magical village and school.
In the next instant, the apparition vanished.
Edinburgh hummed with life around Minerva. Businessmen and women sought out lunch while a few tourists wandered this way and that. Winding her way along the sidewalks, Minerva searched for the restaurant's sign. She had transported into the Princes Street Gardens which contained a sheltered grove specifically used for that purpose. After requesting directions from a friendly vendor, Minerva had found her way to N. Castle Street. The restaurant was supposedly somewhere along this street, but Minerva had yet to spot the sign for Thistle and Heather. Why did he have to pick someplace practically Unplottable to meet? Wait a minute…Finally! Unadorned except for a grouping of thistle and heather, the sign hung over a modest doorway. Minerva opened the door and found herself immediately asked to climb a flight of stairs. Mounting the stairs, Minerva came into an oak paneled hallway whose end was obscured by a red velvet curtain. When she approached it, a gloved hand drew the curtain aside.
"Welcome to the Thistle and Heather madam," intoned the maitre d' as she entered the restaurant. Exquisite scents of spices and fresh baked bread drifted through the air. Sheer curtains allowed the sunlight to grace the tables, but preserved an air of privacy. On every table, an arrangement of thistles and heather added a splash of color against the pristine white tablecloths and crystal glasses. Menu in hand, the maitre d' inquired, "Would you prefer a table near the window or one of the booths? For one or perhaps more?"
"I am meeting –" Before she could finish, a distinguished gentleman had risen from one of the booths and made his way over to her. "That would be my companion now, thank you."
"Mr. Ashford," the maitre d' exclaimed, "I did not realize that you were waiting for someone."
"I was unsure of it myself. Ms. McGonagall's presence was contingent upon several factors," replied the gentleman. Guiding Minerva to his booth, he added, "I was beginning to think that you were unable to escape from the school."
"I enlisted some of my colleagues to help provide a distraction. I must admit, this is a pleasant change from the Great Hall. How did you find this restaurant Jonathan?" Jonathan waited until Minerva had taken her seat before sitting down.
"A few years ago, the owners had a bit of trouble with a Wizarding tourist couple. I helped straightened the whole matter out and in return, they offered me a dinner on the house. I just kept coming back after that. Mr. Conway," he said, indicating the maitre d', "jokes that he should just reserve a table for me on a daily basis. I hope you didn't have trouble finding the place."
"Only a little. You have always had good taste. I must remember to ask if it would be possible to take a dessert with me." I owe Filius and Pomona for today and the rest of the staff, bar Dolores naturally, deserve a treat.
Seeing a waiter approach, Jonathan asked, "Would you like to share a pot of tea? They make their own special blend." Minerva nodded and Jonathan placed their drink order with the waiter.
"How long has it been since I last saw you?"
"Almost a year. With everything that has happened, I haven't had the time for old friends and casual conversation," Minerva replied. "You look well. I heard that the Swiss Ministry awarded you a commendation for your recent work. Congratulations."
"Thank you, although the honor truly belongs to the entire team." Amused by his humility and embarrassment at being recognized, Minerva considered the man before her. Slightly younger than herself, Jonathan Cameron Ashford was widely considered one of the preeminent advocates in the Wizarding European community. He worked on cases for the International Magical Office of Law in addition to functioning as the intermediary between the Muggle and wizard legal systems when the occasion required it. In his spare time, he preferred to volunteer his expetise towards human rights issues. His recent work involved the treatment of werewolves, Veela, and other so-called part-humans. On the courtroom floor, his voice resonated in the listeners' minds long after he stopped speaking while his tall frame, salt-and-pepper hair, and deep brown eyes commanded their attention and respect. Brilliant and tenacious, Jonathan rarely lost a battle and would never back down when he believed in the righteousness of his cause. In other words, the perfect choice for this task, thought Minerva.
"You should like this blend," said Jonathan, restoring Minerva's mind to the present. A delicate aroma wafted from the teapot being carried by the returning waiter. Judging by the fragrances, Minerva guessed that the tea contained vanilla and almond among other flavors. After the waiter poured for them, he set the teapot on the table.
"Would you like to hear today's menu?" he asked.
"What has Charlie dreamed up today?" countered Jonathan, adding in an aside to Minerva, "Charlie is the cook and changes the menu daily."
"Our lunch entrees include smoked salmon on a bed of greens, baked sea trout fillets with sautéed scallops, and a lovely piece of prime rib served with roasted potatoes. On the side, you have a choice of black pudding, cauliflower and sorrel soup, or an apricot salad with the house dressing," offered the waiter. "Would you like a few moments to decide?"
"I'm ready now, Minerva?"
"I would like the apricot salad and the baked sea trout please."
"And I will have the soup and prime rib. Tell Charlie I said hello for me."
"Very good, sir. I'll pass the message along." The waiter promptly disappeared in direction of the kitchen. Jonathan returned his focus to his dining companion. When he had received her request to rendezvous for lunch, his interest had been immediately peaked. The restaurant choice had been ceded to him, but she had specified a Muggle restaurant well away from any magical venue. Why would she insist on that? What could she want to discuss that could not be said in Diagon Alley? Time to stop beating around the bush, he decided.
"Why did you ask me here, Minerva?" He leaned forward as Minerva took a sip, considering her answer.
"I need your help, Jonathan. I trust that you have kept abreast of the developments at Hogwarts and within the Ministry?"
"You mean Fudge's blatant abuse of his power? The stories in the Prophet about Dumbledore and Harry Potter? Dumbledore's removal from the Wizengamot and Hogwarts, his supposed treachery against the Ministry?" Scorn and condemnation in every word, Jonathan spat out Fudge's title, "The Minister has overstepped his bounds and needs to be reminded of the limits. No one seems willing to challenge him, especially after he forced Dumbledore from Hogwarts. I have been trying to find a line of attack and supporters, but so far, I've come up with nothing useful."
"What do you know about Dolores Umbridge?" asked Minerva, quietly reassured by Jonathan's fervent reply. He is practically begging for a chance to be the one to put Fudge in his place.
"Umbridge?" he said with all the disgust normally reserved for slugs, cockroaches, and rats. "Prejudiced, power-loving, vile, sycophantic, poor excuse for a human being. In short, foul. She was responsible for that piece of werewolf registration you know. I heard that she was involved with Hogwarts. The Prophet reported that Fudge decreed her Headmistress, but I never believe that trash anymore without independent confirmation."
"You have your confirmation then. That woman is now in charge of my school." Clenching her hands around her cup until they hurt, Minerva attempted to keep her tone reasonable. It was a losing battle. "That damned woman has control of Hogwarts. Do you know what she has done, Jonathan? Her own version of the Gestapo prowling the halls, bullying the students! She's used Veritaserum on students and shaken one of them when she didn't receive a reply she liked! And instead of polishing the trophy cases or preparing potion ingredients, she makes the students write lines with a Blood Quill! She won't be satisfied with that however. Apparently, she is pushing through an approval for even more extreme physical punishments!" Word by word, Minerva's voice rose in volume. Shaking, she drew in a breath. Shouting will do absolutely no good. Get yourself under control! She closed her eyes and reopened them slowly. She spoke again, freezing every syllable to absolute zero. "I have watched while my students went untaught, while she called them liars, while she insulted and ousted my friend, while she made the students write in their own blood, while she turned Hogwarts, a place of safety even in the middle of the last war, into her own private fascist state. I could do nothing without jeopardizing the students' protection against outside threats. Now, the students are no safer inside Hogwarts' walls then outside them. I refused to stand by and let Dolores rule as a tyrant."
"What do you intend to do then? And how do I fit in?" demanded Jonathan through gritted teeth. I had no idea that things had gotten this bad. Blood quills on children! On a Ministry official's orders no less! "Whatever you want me to do Minerva, I'll do it."
"Dolores must be planning to get rid of me next. I'm too much of a threat to her and she knows that I will never accept her authority. I'll constantly undermine her in any way I can. The other professors follow my lead and would not contemplate recognizing anyone else as Head besides Dumbledore and me. I have the respect and trust of the most of the students and parents. Dolores can barely cast a Lumos spell while the entire academic community respects my abilities and expertise. She needs to eliminate me in order to cement her control over Hogwarts. Like Dumbledore, she and Fudge will try to paint me as a traitor to the Ministry. They probably believe that they can get away with it because of my connection to Dumbledore, their successful brainwashing of the Wizarding public, and their Ministerial power. I don't intend to be unprepared when that day comes. I hope to use their accusation for my own purpose, to strip off their masks and reveal them to the world for the despicable people they are. That is where I need your assistance. We must act within the law, not outside of it. We must prove our case in open court to convince the public and to provide legal justification to expel Fudge and Umbridge from power." Piercing steel-gray eyes locked with Jonathan's brown ones. "I want you to be my advocate. Only the best will serve, and you are the best."
Withdrawing her gaze, Minerva refilled her cup, adding a spoonful of sugar. The tiny clink of the spoon against the cup sounded loud in Jonathan's ears. Despite his earlier tirade, he had not thought about this possibility. If I do this and lose, I will be destroyed. He glanced at Minerva's visage, now composed, but defiant and determined. She must know that the deck is stacked in favor of Fudge and Umbridge. If Dumbledore, hero that he is, didn't dare to risk a challenge in court, what makes her think that she will succeed? What about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? A shudder ran through him at this thought. He had learned of You-Know-Who's return through Minerva, but had tried to push it from his mind. Just like the rest of the population, too scared of the possibility of another war. Scared enough to enable Fudge and Dolores to use the public's willful ignorance to their advantage.
Suddenly, an arm appeared in his field of vision. Jonathan startled as the waiter apologized for surprising him. Thanking the waiter, Minerva delicately tasted a piece of her fish. The house-elves prepared wonderful meals, but they were generally geared towards a student population with diverse preferences. Jonathan obviously needed a few moments to think over her proposal.
"You should not let your prime rib get cold, Jonathan. We can postpone the rest of this conversation until we finish our meal," suggested Minerva.
"I would like that," said Jonathan. As they cleaned their plates, Jonathan directed their talk to mundane subjects such as the weather, the city of Edinburgh which Jonathan called home, and Quidditch.
"Would you care for dessert?" asked the waiter as he removed their plates. "I can offer you a selection of cheeses with our homemade fruit and nut bread or a pear and apple crumble."
"The crumble sounds perfect. Thank you," responded Minerva, noticing that Jonathan was still preoccupied with her proposition. In moments, slices of crumble materialized in front of them, warm from the ovens and dusted with brown sugar. The tart sweetness roused Jonathan from his thoughts. Abruptly, the storm clouds of indecision and misgiving cleared. Why am I hesitating? I have two choices: take a stand and risk everything or shut up and watch as the ideals I swore to uphold are destroyed.
"I'll do it," he announced. Once verbalized, a peculiar sense of relief washed over him. Win or lose, I'll at least retain my honor. Hell, I'll go down in history either way.
"Thank you, Jonathan, although that seems woefully inadequate." Thank Merlin. Now, I might have a chance of winning. The tightness in her spine and shoulders unwound while the uneasiness from fear, anxiety, and apprehension, lightened for the first time in weeks. A full smile unfurled itself as the lines of stress smoothed themselves away.
"Until she actually accuses you, I don't think we can do much legally. However, we can begin building a case so that we are prepared. No sense in waiting." His commitment given, Jonathan immediately started formulating their strategy.
"I've already set a couple of things in motion and I brought a number of documents for you to review," said Minerva, handing him the briefcase which had been resting at her feet. "Certain friends within the Ministry helped gather intelligence on Cornelius, Dolores, and their associates. Additionally, I've requested my colleagues to make a record of Dolores' activities at Hogwarts."
"I'll look through this later. The record should be useful to prove a pattern of behavior. If we can prove that she poses a significant threat to the students' wellbeing and that Fudge was aware of this, we can accuse both of them. In regards to their probable accusation of treason against you, we must demonstrate that you never meant to challenge the government itself, only the current administration. If the current administration committed serious crimes, such as child abuse, then your opposition is more than warranted. Do you know exactly what actions they will use to claim treason?"
"I believe that Dolores is waiting for me to lose my temper and say or do something which might be construed as treason. At present, I have done very little which could support such a charge even in their wildest imaginations. I would never conduct myself with anything less than the highest respect for the law and patriotism for my country. They will be forced to twist my words or actions to booster their cause."
"No sensible person would ever accuse you of being disloyal Minerva. And treason is difficult to prove with solid evidence and collaboration which they certainly will not have. Fudge should be grateful that Dumbledore didn't stick around for a trial. I doubt that, even considering his recent unpopularity, the Wizengamot could have been convinced to convict him. Perhaps I'm being overly optimistic, but they will certainly be reluctant to return a guilty verdict against you." Jonathan gestured with his fork as he spoke. "Not to mention that we are going to remind them of your dedicated service to the education of their children and grandchildren for the past forty years. I'm sure that they will find it hard to crucify a simple teacher trying to protect her students."
"Very well, Jonathan, but I want to use the court to force Fudge and Umbridge's actions into the public view. The trial will provide a public forum in which to disclose the truth to the Wizarding world. I expect that they will try to offer me a way out, provided that I go quietly. Needless to say, I will refuse. When that tactic fails and they realize that they will have to follow the full legal procedures, they will attempt to restrict access to the proceedings and censor any news printed in the Prophet. Somehow, they cannot be allowed to accomplish this. Otherwise, we may as well abandon the plan now." Tapping his fork against the tablecloth, Jonathan contemplated a solution to this potential roadblock. Suddenly, he lit upon an idea.
"You have a dual citizenship in France, don't you?" Minerva's eyebrow rose as she nodded, wondering why Jonathan would ask that question. "And you are good friends with high-ranking members of the French Ministry?"
"I have been friends with Minister Chevalier and her husband, Healer Chevalier, of the National Hospital of France, for decades. I'm acquainted of course with Madame Maxime as well as other academics in the country. In the Ministry, I am on friendly terms with the Minister of International Relations, the Deputy Minister, and the Minister himself. May I ask why that matters?" probed Minerva.
"Imagine how incensed the French Ministry would become if Fudge mistreated one of its citizens. If I were to inform them of what was taking place, Fudge would have to allow them access in order to maintain diplomatic relations. Moreover, this gives us leverage to bring in representation from International Wizarding Magical Law office. The entire trial would have to be conducted openly and according to the proper procedures." A wolfish smile firmly in place, he said, "I'm starting to believe we might have a decent shot at winning this."
"Jon!" Minerva and Jonathan whipped their heads around as a man, obviously the chef, strode towards them. Ruddy-checked and somewhat thickset, his wide grin caused his eyes to crinkle. "I haven't seen you in two days. I was afraid you might have dropped off the face of the earth. Or I thought you might have found another favorite chef. And who is the gorgeous lady?" Instead of shaking her proffered hand, he bowed and kissed it.
"Charlie, this is Minerva McGonagall. Minerva, Charlie Kennard is responsible for keeping me from starving."
"Mr. Kennard, thank you for a wonderful meal and for ensuring that Jonathan does not expire from hunger," said Minerva.
"My pleasure, particularly when he brings a beautiful woman into my restaurant. And please, call me Charlie," Charlie said, beaming at her. A faint blush pinked Minerva's cheeks.
"Chef?" Peeping out through the kitchen, a young man frantically looked around for Charlie. "Chef?"
"I'll be there in a minute, try not to burn down the restaurant in the meantime Jeff," called Charlie. "My apologies, it seems my assistant demands my presence in the kitchen. It was wonderful to meet you, Ms. McGonagall, and I hope you come back soon. If there is anything else you need…"
"Actually Charlie, I believe Minerva mentioned taking one of your desserts back to her coworkers at her school. Perhaps the crumble?"
"No problem, I'll have one wrapped up and sent over. Now, I must go before the vegetables attack Jeffrey."
"Thank you, Charlie. I'm sure my colleagues will enjoy your dessert as much as I did." Accepting the compliment with a smile and wave, Charlie hustled back towards the kitchen. Before long, a cloth-wrapped parcel, cleverly tied to create a handle, arrived on their table. Furthermore, the waiter informed them that the check had been shredded per the cook's order. Together, Minerva and Jonathan rose, sent their goodbyes to Charlie via the waiter, and departed the restaurant. Over the walk to the Princes Street Gardens, Minerva regaled Jonathan with tales of her students, narrating the Weasley twins' strikes against Dolores.
"By the end of the day, she looked as if she had been attacked by a rampaging herd of hippogriffs. Soot and burns covered that awful pink cardigan of hers. I must say that the fireworks compensated for much of the trouble those two have caused me over the years." They stepped into the apparition grove. "I'll send Glaucus along with updates as I can. Most of the mail entering or exiting the school is searched, but Glaucus can usually manage to avoid it. I may take the precaution of Disillusioning him in any case. If you need to communicate a message immediately, send a Patronus. I assume you remember how?"
"I should hope so. It saved my life during the last war. I'll begin preliminary work on this, but I will wait until I hear from you to move forward." Catching her gaze, he said seriously, "Be careful, Minerva. Goodbye and good luck."
"I can take care of myself, but I will be, as Alastor says, vigilant. Goodbye Jonathan." With the merest hint of a twist, Minerva stepped forward and disapparated. For a moment, Jonathan stared at the empty space she left behind. Give them hell, Minerva. When you need me, I'll be ready.
"Professor McGonagall?" Hermione Granger's voice reached Minerva's ears as she stepped off the staircase onto the seventh floor. Book bag slung over one shoulder, Ms. Granger sometimes reminded Minerva rather forcefully of herself as a student. Talented and determined, but fiercely loyal to her friends. Too serious and perfectionist at times.
"What can I do for you, Ms. Granger?"
"Judy Hawkins came to me crying, Professor. Apparently, Umbridge made a comment about the superiority of pure-bloods to Muggle-borns," reported Hermione, her tone as hard as Rubeus' rockcakes. "I managed to calm her down, but I thought you should know."
With the suddenness of a candle blowing out, Minerva's relative good mood, produced by her jaunt outside the castle, evaporated. Blasted, prejudiced woman. For any other professor, I would correct Ms. Granger and demand that she or he be called by their title. Dolores doesn't deserve that honor. Lips thinned, she responded to her fifth year prefect's statement. "Thank you for bringing it to my attention. I'll see if I can't speak with Ms. Hawkins personally tomorrow. Was that all, Ms. Granger?"
"Yes, Professor. I was actually on my way to the library."
"While I applaud your dedication to your studies, Ms. Granger, I would recommend that you try to get outside and enjoy the weather at some point over the holiday," encouraged Minerva.
"I'll keep that in mind, Professor. Have a nice day," Hermione said as she began descending the stairs. Concentrated on Dolores' latest victim, Minerva's feet traced the route to her quarters mechanically. After muttering the password to Maeve without recognition, she found herself back in her quarters.
"Based on the furrows in your brow, I presume your meeting went poorly," stated Severus who had not budged from the armchair.
"The meeting itself went well. However, Ms. Granger just informed me of Dolores' verbal abuse of another student." Minerva set the crumble on her desk. "Even when not immediately present, that woman has the infuriating ability to ruin my day. I hope that whatever Filius and Pomona contrived to preoccupy her was…inventive." Unfastening her cloak, Minerva banished it and her purse into her bedroom. Should I change? No, why should I care? It is a holiday.
"That woman should be classified as a contagious disease. She lingers in the air, sickening anyone unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity," remarked Severus, his lip curled in his trademark sneer. "What a pity that we cannot treat her as such. A vigorous Scouring spell would not go amiss." Repeated dunking in lake has a certain appeal, preferably while the water is still freezing cold, thought Minerva, seating herself at her desk. Of course, a combination of the two would guarantee effectiveness. She let her imagination run free for a few minutes before directing her thoughts towards the omnipresent paperwork.
Having returned to his book, Severus kept Minerva company throughout the remainder of the afternoon while she tackled the end of year reports. Occasionally, the witch would pose a question and Severus would briefly resurface to answer her. When the bell sounded, Minerva threw on a robe over her Muggle clothing and the two went down to supper. Dolores appeared, sneezing and coated in dust, midway through the meal. Noticing her colleagues' reactions, Minerva suspected that this had something to do with Filius' and Pomona's scheming. However, she resigned herself to waiting until the war conference she had convened for later that evening. She couldn't inquire during the meal. Considering those self-satisfied smirks, their ploy worked brilliantly. I shall greatly enjoy hearing about your discomfort, Dolores.