Author's Note: Unfortunately (for me), there are no good excuses as to why I have taken a pathetically long time to update. I may as well inform anybody who has made it to chapter seven that you're dealing with a pre-med student, so I am routinely forced to prioritize things in a less-than-ideal manner. As you can see, however, I haven't given up! There's much more to come, and I am still having an indecent amount of fun writing this. If you review, you'll make me happy. So, find it in your hearts to be nice and give me something to look forward to apart from my calculus final next Tuesday.

Disclaimer: In my head, I'm British. Actually, I'm not.


CHAPTER 7

1972

Minerva filled her Thursday and afternoon after her 5th year Gryffindor-Slytherin class with correcting essays, only occasionally interrupted by a student asking for help on some spell or assignment. Thus, she found herself, early as usual but now clad in a traveling cloak, in front of the despised gargoyles that acted as sentinels for Dumbledore's office. Minerva was always acutely put at unease by the stone statues, having great dislike for the way that they leered at her when she approached. Furthermore, they did not seem to think highly of her either and were often quite loath to grant her entrance to the spiraling staircase, even when she stated the password numerous times. In fact, there had been one occasion when they refused to move aside until she recited the password in the fullness of her northern Scottish brogue. Annoyed, she had promptly complained to Dumbledore about it, mostly because they had probably acted at his suggestion.

"Chocolate Frog," she said sternly. The gargoyles gave her a stony glare and leapt aside.

Dumbledore's passwords typically reflected his obsession with sweets. In fact, the selected treat was less severe than his usual choices, which expanded completely through every sugary delicacy imaginable. The previous week Minerva had only half-listened to a broad dissertation on his latest fascination with some Muggle candy: lemon – somethings. She couldn't remember and nor did she try to.

The stairs came to a halt and Dumbledore's voice said "Enter."

Minerva stepped across the threshold. Dumbledore, of course, sat at his desk, surrounded by his whirring and humming collection of strange trinkets. However, Minerva's attention was drawn to the couple warming themselves by the fireplace.

"Minerva!" exclaimed Caroline McKinnon, a classy witch with sandy blonde hair and clear blue eyes who was a decade or so older than Minerva. Caroline's dark-haired, bespectacled husband Irving McKinnon lingered at the hearth with a grim smile painted on his face. Caroline instead rushed up to hug Minerva and ignored her noticeable stiffening when greeted with such affection.

"It's so good to see you, Minerva!"

"Yes, yes, Caroline," replied Minerva, attempting to gently shrug off her exuberant friend. "Thank you, for offering…"

"Oh, yes, you're more than welcome. Marlene's watching the house, of course. She wanted to come along, but Irving and I thought it was best if it wasn't left unattended," answered Caroline, knowing instantly what was referred to.

Minerva nodded concisely. She sighed at the realization of how suspicious she had already become, but a more protected conversation could take place at the McKinnon's manor.

"Now we're only waiting for those five students, Dumbledore?" Apparently, Irving was more uneasy than Minerva.

"Yes, indeed. I expect they will be coming soon. I suggested they use the Floo from Gryffindor common room once the most of the students had gone up to bed," said Dumbledore.

"All of them Gryffindors, Dumbledore?" asked Irving. His family was an extremely long line of Ravenclaws known for their house loyalty and, somewhat uncharacteristic, willingness to quickly involve themselves in the troubles of society. Minerva had to restrain herself from spouting off a lengthy defense of her students. Sadly, this was not a time for facilitating animosity or disunion.

"Yes, Irving. And a rather lively bunch at that," Dumbledore said casually.

Then, there was a great whoosh and the five teenagers came catapulting out of the fireplace. Sigmund, clearly an inexperienced Floo traveler, collided headlong with Irving, who bristled and seemed to be intently scrutinizing the length of Sigmund's red hair. Caroline, however, laughed, telling her husband he should have known to move.

Dumbledore smiled. "Well, then. This seems to be everyone. Irving and Caroline McKinnon, meet Adaira Stirling, Shannon Kerrigan, Ben Fenwick, Eoin Bryan, and Sigmund Throckmore." He pointed to each of them in turn and then added, "I expect we will all get to know each other much better in the near future."

"Now, without further ado, I must ask you to step into the fireplace again, Sigmund. 'McKinnon Manor' will do. Perhaps you can go first to avoid another crash," Dumbledore proposed jovially. Sigmund grimaced and obliged, cursing slightly under his breath before asserting his destination. The rest followed suit until it was only Minerva and Dumbledore in his office.

"You think this is wise, Dumbledore?" Minerva probed.

"Oh yes, Minerva. I shudder to guess on what your bold Gryffindors would do if we refused them."

Minerva nodded curtly, needing only to pause for a moment to consider the horrendous alternatives that readily came to mind, and stepped into the fireplace.


The parlor of the McKinnon's manor was decorated with airy blue and bronze drapes and a large, east-facing window that covered the entire wall. From the ceiling hung numerous metallic candelabras that lit the room somewhat eerily, supplemented only by the fireplace on the west wall. The remainder of the room was comprised of a great mahogany table with several matching chairs, at which was seated the members of the Order of the Phoenix.

Dumbledore, naturally, assumed the head of table, and Irving McKinnon occupied the other. Minerva sat at only seat remaining, to the right of Dumbledore, and noted the other guests. Caroline was by her husband, and their daughter Marlene, a curly-haired brunette in her twenties, was nearby, next to Caradoc Dearborn, a wizard slightly older than Marlene with dark hair who often dressed rather extravagantly. Nearest to them was Emmeline Vance. She was seated by Frank and Alice Longbottom, who had graduated Hogwarts the year previous, and the five students were clustered at the center of the table. Kathleen Kerrigan, Brendan and Holly Fenwick, and the Throckmore's were seated close to their respective children.

Further down the table nearer to Dumbledore was Hagrid, who had no doubt found another means of transportation, as the confines of a fireplace didn't generally accommodate his vast size. Elphias Doge, an old friend of Dumbledore's, was also present, along with the auror Alastor Moody, who surprisingly hadn't managed to assault anyone yet on suspicion of being an intruder. Although, his eyes were flicking twitchily around the room as if scanning for possible devices of espionage hidden in the ceiling. Minerva wondered vaguely how long it would be before he had an outburst of some sort.

Gideon and Fabian Prewett had gravitated toward Sigmund, apparently finding kinship in their flaming red hair and with the other Gryffindors by house loyalty. Minerva's younger brother Robert had also introduced himself to Sigmund, who had proceeded to gawk at him for several seconds upon realizing he was meeting his professor's younger brother. Edgar Bones, the extremely talented wizard who worked in the Ministry, was looking on with amusement as Dorcas Meadowes, an older witch with wiry gray hair who habitually wore oversized aviator sunglasses, made a comment that caused Dedalus Diggle's violet top hat to fall off. Minerva's brother Malcolm was good-naturedly tolerating Dedalus, making easy conversation with Edgar Bones.

The one remaining seat was to the right of Dumbledore, and Minerva briskly made her way over to it until she realized who else she would be sitting next to.

Elphinstone Urquart was, quite frankly, a very attractive older gentleman. (Although not even remotely "older" when compared to Dumbledore). Despite this careful acknowledgement, Minerva could not help but be forcefully reminded that Elphinstone was also nearly twenty years her senior, her former boss, and had already attempted to propose to her twice. The combination of these factors swiftly tempted Minerva to abruptly turn around, reenter the fireplace, and flee back to Hogwarts. She quickly – but not easily – overcame the impulse and took her seat – very stiffly, refusing to look him directly in the eye. Yet.

It was not as if she disliked him. In fact, in the privacy of her own thoughts late at night with the door bolted in her bedroom, she admitted that, in a small pocket of her heart, she might be a bit fond of him. But only a bit. And only on a good day. However, she had sworn off romantic relationships long ago, and thus she refused to entertain, let alone reciprocate, Elphinstone's demonstrated interest.

"Good evening, Minerva," said Elphinstone warmly. His voice was deep and distinctly Scottish, as always, but tonight colored with excitement. Why hadn't Minerva surmised that Albus would have been sure to contact Elphinstone at once? He was of a very high-status position in the Department of Justice, after all, and Dumbledore was not at all ignorant of Elphinstone's particular affection for Minerva. Indeed, Elphinstone frequently saw to it that everyone could work that out for themselves with exceptionally minimal effort. Minerva was never particularly happy about it.

Minerva managed a cordial smile, now meeting his clear gray eyes with feigned confidence. "Evening."

She stifled a grimace. Why did she always feel so spineless around him?

Dumbledore began humming to himself, which caused the room to fall silent and sent Dedalus scurrying off to retrieve his absurd hat.

"I would like to thank you all for coming," said Dumbledore, addressing the room. "And, thank you, Irving and Caroline, for so generously offering your home."

"Hear, hear!" squeaked Dedalus so eagerly that his top hat once again toppled to the floor. Minerva barely stopped herself from groaning.

With that, Dumbledore proceeded to elaborate upon much of what he had already expressed to Minerva the week previously. It was perhaps a bit tangential, especially in the middle when he cited parallels between the current political climate and the rising one in the 1930s, but his audience seemed quite enraptured by the discussion. Of course, Alastor Moody pretended to be disinterested; however, it was clear to Minerva that he was thrilled to have his so-called conspiracy theories corroborated by such an influential figure. Glancing over, she noted Elphinstone appeared as inexpressive as usual whenever he was taking in highly-classified, potentially explosive information. He was accustomed to such an atmosphere, given the tremendously secretive nature of his position in the Ministry, but Minerva was also used to him in a professional setting. His eyes, blank to most, were calculating and comparing whatever Dumbledore said to previous information, forging connections where others wouldn't. Helplessly fascinated, Minerva pressed her palms firmly into her lap beneath the table, reciting her detailed reasons for quitting her job at the Ministry until Dumbledore graciously redirected the monologue.

"As for the minors present," he began cheerfully, allowing for a degree of disconcerted mumbling to emerge in the room, "I assure you that they will not be put into harm's way in any form, regardless of parental consent – or indifference." His eyes flashed mildly to Adaira.

"Of course, if any moment any other member deems it unsafe for their participation to continue, then it shall be discontinued at once. I hold everyone's personal safety in the highest regard, and those of age will take primary responsibility in determining which risks they are willing to take. With that being said, you are all being held to the utmost level of secrecy regarding the information you have received this evening. Those unwilling to be burdened with these facts can speak to me as soon as the meeting adjourns, and we will resolve the matter."

Then, Dumbledore allowed for questions. The next half an hour was consumed mostly with reiterations of his earlier speech, and then Dumbledore began with his concluding remarks.

"At present, we're mostly interested in gathering information. People behaving suspiciously are of particular interest, especially if said people are in positions where they are privy to confidential information or prone to influencing others of less discerning minds. We've all been hearing whispers. I hope to use this as a venue to consolidate what we've heard into a concrete system of information so we can be better informed as to how to proceed. Tentatively, we can plan to meet at the same date and time next month, until we devise a more sophisticated mode of communication. Those with ideas can consult me directly."

With that, Dumbledore declared the meeting adjourned, and Minerva immediately rushed across the room at a brisk pace – not running, of course; she would not run from Elphinstone Urquart. She engaged herself in some trifling discussion with Dorcas Meadowes about the "revolutionary" features of her new sunglasses. As Dorcas prattled on, Minerva failed to prevent herself from eavesdropping on the conversation Elphinstone was having with Ben Fenwick. Malcolm fortunately eventually took note of Minerva's boredom, which was probably rather obvious to her wizened younger brother. He nicely came over and rescued her, making a show of saying good night and such.

Moments later, Minerva's youngest brother Robert sauntered over, having concluded a very surreptitious-looking discussion with Gideon and Fabian Prewett.

"Hello there, sis," he said, smiling broadly.

In his typical style, Robert looked the part of a shaggy-haired, unemployed guitarist in a rock band. Today, he was clad in black, cutoff robes, jeans with tears at the knees that he would probably insist were in style if she bothered him about it, and a brightly-colored T-shirt. (The shirt was proudly emblazoned with a photograph of another guitarist with a preposterous haircut who seemed to be advertising some sort of Muggle travel. Apparently, zeppelins were making a comeback). From his tragically unprofessional getup, no one in their right mind would have ever guessed he was a Healer; yet, he had always been effortlessly talented, so she hadn't been surprised at his success. Minerva thought for a moment to ask him what he had been up to, but then, realizing she would probably be regaled with minutia about his latest musical fantasies and tattoo designs, opted for a narrower topic.

"I see you managed to drag yourself here on time. How very responsible of you. How's St. Mungo's, Robert? Have they sacked you yet?" she inquired sardonically, straightening his robes a bit.

"Ah, Min, don't be such a killjoy. I don't go to work like this," he replied, beaming. "I look much more rugged – bloodstains and all. Got to keep it cool for the ladies. I picked this out just for your benefit. Knew you'd fancy it."

From across the room, Minerva caught Ben, Sigmund, and Eoin snickering openly at her obvious disapproval. Her students were not the only individuals in the universe who thought it odd that she and Robert were related. Conversely, Adaira and Shannon were staring, mouths slightly agape. Minerva shook her head and shot them a stern look. This was not the first time she observed that a number of young women found her youngest brother rather dashing. Personally, she didn't understand. His hairstyle made him look like a wild animal and gave the impression of a distinct lack of cleanliness, not to mention his ludicrous wardrobe which –

"Oi, Min – stop it, will you?" complained Robert. Minerva quickly withdrew her hand, which had been subconsciously swiping at a bit of dust on his shoulder. "St. Mungo's is alright. Did have this poor bloke come in today, though – tried to swallow a firework! I imagine he may've been a bit under-the-influence at the time, if you understand my meaning – "

"Yes, Robert – I'm quite aware of what people get up to when they don't know what's good for them."

Robert laughed loudly and then abruptly transitioned into studying her intently. "Wait – really?"

Minerva glared, nostrils flaring.

"All right, all right!" Robert stepped back a bit, as if he had been scalded. "I know, I know. No need to get that way! Didn't say I had been joining him! Well, we sorted him out in the end. Bloody idiot."

Then, before Minerva could interrupt, Robert's wand began emitting purple sparks. He swore casually, probably just to infuriate her and put on a spectacle for her students, who were growing increasingly fascinated by her anomaly of a brother.

Robert grinned, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm being paged. Something gory, it seems. Or maybe that cute blonde mediwitch in triage got bored again. Nevertheless, duty calls!" And he disapparated.

Gradually, most of the other guests filtered out with varying degrees of smoothness. Dedalus Diggle nearly took out a portion of the mantelpiece in the process of entering the fireplace when he tripped and caused his wand to backfire. Minerva shook her head in mild dismay when Alastor Moody took the opportunity to launch into an enthusiastic lecture about proper wand placement. Then, after chivvying the students into the fireplace and threatening detention if they did not proceed directly to their common room, Minerva managed to lecture Moody about his recent home renovations that had nearly proven fatal the week before. He left soon after, leaving only Minerva, Dumbledore, the older McKinnons, and Elphinstone.

Dumbledore had conveniently made himself unavailable. Chattering on needlessly to Caroline and Irving, Minerva was unable to excuse herself decently, and just before she was about to do so indecently and thereby make an escape, she felt a hand on her forearm. She jumped horribly and spun around, drawing her wand.

"I had forgotten how jumpy you are, Minerva," said Elphinstone, amused, allowing his hand to linger a moment before withdrawing it.

As usual, Elphinstone had chosen to act deliberately to get some sort of reaction out of her. Oh, she hated him.

"Oh, I'm sure," she replied acerbically. "I see you haven't changed in the past year. Don't think I didn't notice you speaking to my students. Still recruiting?"

"Old habits die hard. Besides, my "retirement" equates to little more than an alteration of my title, Minerva. Surely you've assumed as much," he answered smoothly.

Minerva had to consciously resist balling her hands into fists. "Yes. I have indeed."

"Your students are very talented," he continued pensively. "Although, I'm quite astonished that you permitted them to attend."

As was typical of Elphinstone's preferred manner of conversation in a public setting, he refused to be straightforward, tending toward protracted periods of silence. Minerva was long since impressed by such invitations for her to play along with this particular charade.

Minerva lowered her voice, now painfully aware of Irving and Caroline's presence across the room. "You know perfectly well who 'permitted them to attend,' Elphinstone," she snapped, "and that it most certainly was not me."

"Minerva," Elphinstone began, his voice now equally quiet, "I know you aren't pleased to see me at the moment, but there are things happening within the Ministry regarding which I must confide in someone I trust implicitly. I cannot have such a discussion in the company of others – "

"Organize a meeting with Dumbledore, then. He's going to be in London over the weekend, but be sure to have him take notes. That man's memory has been rather unreliable lately, and I – "

"No," replied Elphinstone bluntly, staring directly into Minerva's eyes.

"Wh—no?"

"Minerva, I trust you."

Minerva blinked, feeling somewhat immobilized. Glancing down, she suddenly noticed Elphinstone's hand was lightly gripping her forearm again, but she didn't recoil this time. It was over fifteen years since Elphinstone had last lied to her, but she studied his earnest expression, aghast. He didn't trust Dumbledore? Yes, her current employer was something – or perhaps more than something – of a lunatic, a tortured genius, and had outrageous fashion sense. But, untrustworthy?

Minerva shook her head briskly. "Trust or not, I think you overestimate the power I wield in this situation, Elphinstone," Minerva whispered urgently.

"Dumbledore makes far too many sacrifices for what he believes to be the greater good," answered Elphinstone. His tone had grown almost inaudible.

Minerva chuckled darkly, temper flaring dangerously. "Is that so? As if that is such a foreign concept to you!"

"I am prepared to make sacrifices, but I will not make such drastic personal decisions on the behalf of others. You know that. As for Albus Dumbledore, I often speculate that the degree of his restraint is a touch more liberal than mine. I trust you."

Minerva stepped back, stifling a gasp and effectively extracting herself from Elphinstone's grasp. It was not often that Elphinstone brought a facet of anyone's character under such scrutiny, much less with others nearby, even much less if the person in question was Albus Dumbledore. Yet, Minerva nodded curtly, out of curiosity or even residual loyalty to her former boss. She swiftly repressed any thoughts of the latter. Then, Elphinstone abruptly returned to his favored air of mystery and mild superiority that he adopted in the presence of others, and he smirked at her.

"Well, Minerva, you'll be hearing from me," announced Elphinstone at normal volume.

She glared at him, forcing a twisted smile. "Yes, you're rather difficult to ignore. Much like an insect, or a first-year girl confronted with the gossip column in Witch Weekly."

"I admire your honesty, as always, darling," remarked Elphinstone. Then, he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "Until then!"

With that, he disapparated.. Fuming, Minerva stormed off to the hearth, bidding curt farewells to the McKinnons while retaining what she hoped were a few shreds of dignity. Just as she ascended into the floo, she observed Dumbledore, sitting almost smugly at the head of the table, eyes twinkling merrily at her as if he had just been witness to some sort of highly entertaining exhibition.

Once she returned to the castle and brushed off the ashes, careful not to dirty the carpet, and retreated to her rooms as quickly as her pride would allow. She shouted at William McGonagall after he proceeded to greet her by butchering a recitation of one of Shakespeare's more celebrated sonnets, and accidentally exploded three of the four logs in her fireplace in lieu of simply igniting them. Clutching a cup of tea with substantial force, Minerva curled up stiffly on her chaise longue and contemplated her propensity for being hired by utter maniacs.

Hours later, a faint tapping sounded on her parlor window. Minerva glanced at the clock and proceeded over to the window, internally cursing whoever had the nerve to send her an owl at three o'clock in the morning. Minerva untied the missive and opened it.

Minerva,

I'd apologize for upsetting you earlier if I thought I actually offended you. Someone has to challenge you every so often, darling. Despite your irritation with me this evening, or in general, I do trust you, and I would like to discuss the situation in more detail with you in London on Saturday evening, if possible, at the usual time and location.

Also, before you decide to have me committed for writing you in the middle of the night, consider the fact that you're still awake reading this. I'd insist you sleep more if you were an average human being, but as you are neither average nor particularly inclined to respond to my requests, I suppose that I'll merely suggest it and hope for the best.

EU

Minerva shook her head fondly, fetched a sheet of parchment, and neatly scripted her reply. Why did she inevitably find herself working for complete maniacs?

Elphinstone,

Thank you for taking it upon yourself to be a challenging aspect of my life. Living in a castle filled with hundreds of semi-untrained, magical teenagers with questionable emotional stability rarely adds complications to my daily existence. London it is, but be aware that I expect direct answers and a very nice dinner. Sleep might be something you might want to experiment with as well. Theoretically, it helps one feel rested and refreshed, but I haven't ever found the need to test the practical limitations of the hypothesis. We can compare notes.

MM

With that, Minerva dispatched the owl, smiling despite herself, and extinguished the candles. Perhaps sleep did have its benefits after all.


Author's Note: Review! I'd very much like to know what you all think about Minerva's youngest brother and Elphinstone Urquart. I've put a significant amount of thought into the characterization for both of them, and I intend to develop them further as the story goes on. Robert is quite fun, isn't he? I thought it would be nice to scandalize Minerva a bit. As for Elphinstone, he may seem a bit odd or mysterious now, but there's much to be said about his profession, personal life, and history with Minerva. All in good time. You may have also noticed that he managed to effectively ask Minerva out just now… very tricky indeed.