(Author's Note: No words can express how much gratitude and adoration I feel for my lovely followers and reviewers. You are my inspiration. To those who reviewed, THANK YOU! And a special note to my Guest who commented on being taken aback by Severus's un-canon-like tallness…I shall amend that in later chapters ;).
Chapter 7
France was only a two-hour flight from Cokeworth. By the time Minerva landed outside the walls of Beauxbatons Magical Academy, the first touch of dawn had breathed its muted pastel blues and golds across the distant horizon. The sea, sweeping far below sheer chalk cliffs, glittered and roared dully in the cool breeze. Minerva breathed deeply of it and felt new energy pour into her being with the heady scents of salt and mist and brine. It reminded her of her green homeland with its foggy mornings and cold gray water.
"You zhere—identify yourself!" The loud call echoed from the ramparts of the marble castle over her head, and she looked up to see the walls lined with robed students pointing wands at her.
"Headmistress Minerva McGonagall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," called the Scotswoman loudly, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender to let them see she was wandless.
The students rumbled with talk amongst themselves for a moment before the leader—a Head Student, no doubt—popped back up again: "And what eez your business at Beauxbatons, Madame McGonagall?"
Minerva bit her lip. She had no desire to divulge the private nature of her mission to these children, but she had to get information. "I wish to see your Headmistress," she answered.
"For what reason?"
McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "It is a private matter."
"Vhat is dis I hear?" A loud and stentorian voice rang out from above, and the students all turned as one as Madam Toulouse came storming through. She was the sister of the previous Headmistress Madam Maxine (who had eventually left to marry Hogwarts' own Rubeus Hagrid), and her seven-foot frame was enough to strike fear into the most stolid of hearts. "Why are my students harassing a Hogwarts professor?" she demanded, glaring about. "Oui, I expect safety, but dis eez just foolish! Let her in!"
"But Madame, she could be using Polyjuice-!" protested one girl.
With her sharp hearing, Minerva caught this whole exchange. "Madam Toulouse, I assure you I am no imposter," she said, "but if it would comfort your students to know this for a fact, I give you permission to use Legilimency on me."
"I would not dream of putting a noble woman through such humiliation!" spat Madam Toulouse. "Non, Headmistress—my girls are simply being foolish. We have wards up around ze castle against Dark spellcasters, disguised or not, so it is no threat to us. Please, come in and let us have a talk togezer, yes?"
Gratefully Minerva nodded and strode inside as the gates swung open to permit her. She felt the prickle of magic as she passed through the invisible defensive wards, and the students seemed relieved to see that she was not an imposter. "Madam Toulouse," she warmly greeted the half-giant woman as she approached across the courtyard.
"Madame McGonagall," smiled Madame Toulouse as the two shook hands. "Welcome to Beauxbatons. How have you been?" A shadow of worry flitted across her face. "How are ze students…and your school?"
"The students and their families are still recovering," Minerva answered as they walked together, "and the castle is in the process of being repaired. As for me, well…" She looked about to make sure no girls were within earshot, "truthfully, I've been better. I came to ask you something; it's about one of my colleagues."
"Oh?" Toulouse's expression darkened even further. "And eez zees question a…a delicate sing?"
"Aye, I'm afraid so."
"Zhen we shall go to my office; we will not have fear of being heard zhere." The blue-clad woman extended a hand, which Minerva gripped tightly; the world wrenched and blurred around them as Toulouse Apparated them into her private quarters. Slightly queasy, the Scottish witch fell onto one of the lush velvet couches. "I do not mean to be harsh, Madame McGonagall," said Toulouse, peering down at her, "but you do not look well. Is zhere somesing I may fetch for you?"
"Ah…some tea would be lovely," Minerva admitted. "But anyhow, I must tell you what I came for."
"Ah, oui, your colleague at Hogwarts," Toulouse nodded absently as she began to fix their tea. "Who eez it?"
Minerva took a deep breath. "Do you know Severus Snape?"
Across the room, Toulouse's large hands froze. "I…I have heard sings," she said carefully. "Bad stories. He was…secretly joined to your enemy, yes?"
"Aye, but he was on our side all along. He spied for Dumbledore while in Vold—You-Know-Who's service." McGonagall licked her lips tentatively. "After the Battle of Hogwarts he went missing, assumed to have been killed in the Shrieking Shack—the Shack was burned down later in the Battle, so there was obviously not enough to recover any…remains."
Toulouse picked up two saucers and walked over to sit on the love seat across from the Scottish Animagus. "And ze point to all of zis is…?"
Minerva took a sip of scalding tea before replying slowly. "I believe he is still alive…and here in France. I wanted to know if he came through here."
But to her dismay, the half-giant shook her head. "If I am to believe the description of him zhat my sister gave, someone like him would never be allowed in Beaxbatons. A wizard of such Dark history is difficult to trust…I hope you understand what I am saying, yes?" she finished sympathetically.
"Yes." Minerva nodded slowly, sadly. She had had such high hopes…
"I am very sorry for you, Madame McGonagall," Toulouse said. A long, slightly awkward pause ensued just before an odd scratching noise sounded at the office door; instantly Toulouse's face lit up and she rushed over to open it. "Ah, Pierre!" she cried. "Where have you been, ma petite chere? I have missed you so!"
Minerva leaned forward to see what was going on. She witnessed as Madame Toulouse bent down as if to pick something up, but a flash of black sped under her legs and into the office. When it halted abruptly in front of the couch she sat on, she recognized it as a small black cat. Its eyes, like amber marbles, fixed intensely on her own for a millisecond before it swiveled its sleek head to focus on Madame Toulouse again.
The half-giant Headmistress of Beaxbatons chuckled merrily as she came trundling back. "I see you have met Pierre, yes?" Heaving herself back onto the love seat, she reached out to pet the cat but it shied away like a shadow. Toulouse grimaced sympathetically. "He eez still quite frightened—I found him in ze forest just a week ago, all wet and bloody; I sought zhat perhaps a dog had gotten to him."
Pierre, obviously bored by his owner's conversation, jumped up onto the couch beside Minerva and crouched there, staring at her. So intent was the weight of the feline's gaze upon her that the woman felt slightly uncomfortable; tentatively she reached out towards him. Shockingly, the black tomcat did not leap away as he had under Toulouse's touch; instead, he stretched out his muzzle and Minerva felt the damp, warm feather-light brush of his nose against her knuckles.
"Sacre Bleu!" exclaimed Toulouse in a hushed voice as she watched. "He takes to you well!"
Minerva smiled softly and boldly ran her fingers down the cat's cheek, exhilaration rushing through her as he loosed a throbbing purr and butted his head against her. "I am a feline Animagus," she said. "I suspect all cats can sense the kinship."
"Perhaps," responded Toulouse, and the look on her face even held a hint of jealousy.
"Well, Madame, I would hate to overstay my welcome—you must have more pressing matters to deal with." McGonagall quickly drained her teacup and stood, brushing cat hair from her hands. "Thank you for answering my question…I hope you and your students continue to prosper."
Toulouse smiled. "Merci, Madame McGonagall. I hope you find your colleague, yes?"
"Merlin, I hope so," the other woman sighed.
The pair shook hands again and this time Toulouse did not offer to Apparate her out. So, after a courteous farewell, McGonagall padded down the sweeping marble staircase, admiring the beautiful French craftsmanship of the castle and taking time to mull over her predicament. She had to find whoever Snape had gotten that cologne from—if he hadn't visited Beauxbatons, the nearby wizarding village might give her some help.
Outside, she waved an airy goodbye to the students guarding the ramparts and straddled her broom again before taking to the skies. Had she looked back even once, she might have seen the black tomcat still tracking her from the shadows of the gates, its inky black pupils oddly dilated as it watched her soar upwards. After her form had vanished into the blue, the cat twitched its whiskers, rose to its paws and began walking away from Beauxbatons castle with a purposeful stride.
Madame Toulouse looked for days afterward, but she never saw Pierre the cat again.
