Before the cooing of the mourning doves, before the sun has time to do more than stall stubbornly just below the horizon, Robert McGonagall is awake.

The floorboards of the old manse creek softly as he makes his way from the sofa in his library to the coffee pot in his kitchen. Pulling the sash of his robe tight above his hips, he opens the kitchen's swinging door with his left shoulder and crosses the room blindly; his gnarled old hands rubbing his head, and his tired face. At the counter, just when he's reaching for the coffee pot, his nose detects the scent of freshly brewed morning elixir that is already waiting for him. Confused, he stares at the dark brown liquid already waiting in the carafe.

For one second, he thinks Minerva must be the responsible party, but he quickly dismisses the idea because he remembers seeing the shadows made by the two cats curled up and sleeping in the chair in front of the fireplace on his way through the living room. Yes, he was a bit bleary-eyed, but there were definitely two cats balled up together in the seat of his recliner.

He looks into the nearly full coffee pot again.

Not Minerva.

He turns, reaching for the cupboard where the coffee cups are kept, and as he does so, he finds the answer to his question.

Peg is seated at his small kitchen table in the dark, ignoring her own cup of coffee as she stares out the window, her gaze drawn to the pale pink strip of sky just along the horizon, even though her mind clearly does not register it.

Noting that there is no steam rising from the cup in front of her, he carries his own cup to the table, fills it, and then tops hers off, warming the liquid it still holds.

As he does, she glances down at her cup, and then up at his face. Offering a smile of gratitude, she whispers, "Happy birthday."

Robert nods his own appreciation as he sits down in the chair at her right. Looking into her obviously sleep-deprived eyes, he asks quietly, "Did ye sleep at all?'

Peg nods and shrugs simultaneously. "I know I dropped off a few times, but I'm not sure it was for long enough to do me any good."

"Ah'm sorry, Peggy. Ah never wanted ye tae be in this position. I cannae believe Minerva invited ye tae supper. Ah dinnae ken whut possessed her. She kens whut it's like around here when we aw come together. Ah dinnae kin wye Ah didnae stop her fae doin' it."

"Because you could not have retracted the offer without being rude… And maybe because… because you wanted me here. At least, I think you did." She smiles uncomfortably.

"Ruddy selfish o'me."

She squeezes the hand not holding his coffee cup. "Who cares if it was. When you live to be our age… Well, aren't you entitled to a little happiness? Husbands and wives die. It then becomes impossible to be happy with anybody else because you've forgotten how to be happy on your own. We finally rediscover that, and just about time we start to think that maybe we can be happy with other people again…"

Robert raises an eyebrow. "Yer cantankerous great-grandson decides tae reveal the clan's biggest secret?"

Pegs wry wisp of laughter is muffled by her coffee cup. She is quiet for several seconds after her cup is returned to the table. At length, she asks, "How do you do it? Everybody knows there's something different about your family. Sure, there's lots of conjecture, but in a million years… Robert, I never would've guessed. How do you do it? How do you keep the secret?"

"That decision was made fir me. Ah didnae have a choice Peg. They are…" He covers his mouth.

"They are yer bairns."

Robert nods. "And there is nae a thing…"

Peg nods and they finish together. "… we didnae dae fir our children."

"You said last night that you are glad she didn't tell ye earlier."

He nods again. "Aye, that's true… Today."

"Then, there was a time ye wished she had?"

"Aye…"

"I cannot even imagine. Not even after last night. I'm just a family friend. But… Your wife? It's nothing short of a miracle that the two of you stayed together."

Robert's quiet laughter is cold. "Let's just say there's a reason fir the nearly 13-year age gap between Minerva and Malcolm."

Peg nods. "I bet. She really didn't tell you until after Minerva was born?"

Robert shakes his head. "She chose tae walk away from that part of her life. She wanted tae be wi me that much."

"Making the choice for herself was one thing, but none of us is capable of making the same kind of choice for another person."

Robert smirks. "Oddly enough, it took me a few years tae figure that oot."

Peg squints. "I'm not following you."

"Minerva."

Peg tries again. "What do you mean… Minerva?"

"I was so angry with my wife fir making that decision fir me that I failed tae see that I was making the same decision fir my daughter. She is… Minerva… She is this family's linchpin. She's the reason her mother and Ah stayed together. Ah thought aboot leaving. Ah thought aboot it 1000 times if I thought aboot it once. Ah couldnae dae it. Good men dinnae leave their children. And Ah couldnae take her away from her mother. Whoever else Isobel was, she was a good mother. Daughters need their mothers. So dae sons, but if it hadnae been fir Minerva, the boys wouldnae have ever been born. I decided tae stay, fir Minerva. Not knowing at the time that Ah was puttin' her in a position no child should ever 'ave to be in. Ah stayed, and fae that point forward, for a lot of years, Ah made all the decisions. We stayed here… in my world. Our daughter lived here… in my world. And Ah hid her away… like a stolen treasure. She never complained. Not once. She was an easy child to raise, and to love. Once she was old enough to understand that she shouldnae dae magical things, she never gave me a moment's trouble. She never asked fir anything important. Nae until the day she got her letter fae that school. She looked at me and said, 'Da, please… Let me go.' And, Ah dinnae mind tellin' ye, I broke. I couldnae have refused her if Ah'd wanted to. It's taken me a lot of years tae ken this, Peg, but the first year she was away, well… At the time, Ah thought she was running toward magic. Ah've come tae ken… that didnae happen until later. The day she asked tae be allowed tae go tae school, she wasn't running toward magic, she was runnin' away from me and Isobel… Away from our defunct relationship. She was nearly twelve and her mother and Ah were strangers living under the same roof. We were completely closed oaf from each other, and our daughter knew it. She was quietly watching it all… and she was sick of us!"

"Robert, I'm sure you're exaggerating."

He shakes his head. "Nae, Ah'm not! I couldnae see it back then, but my daughter was very unhappy. Her mother and Ah, we made her that way. She would never be so cruel as to admit it now, but she didnae much like us back then, and Ah dinnae blame her."

"Oh, Robert!"

"Ah mean it. She came home Christmas break that year, and she was very much the same… and very different. She'd found a piece of herself. One that Ah had previously kept her from acknowledging. She had also been long enough gone from the house fir me tae realize that she was the only thing holding Isa and me together. It wasnae fair. No little lass should 'ave tae bear that weight. Shortly thereafter, Ah realized that Isobel wasn't happy either. Yes, she should 'ave told me who she was afore marryin' me, but she made a monumental sacrifice, and in return for that sacrifice, her husband turned into an angry drudge. At the end of Christmas break, Minerva went back tae school, and her mother and Ah started puttin' the pieces back together. Malcolm came along the following summer, and it wasnae all wine and roses after that. We hit a few more bumps… but I wouldnae trade a minute of it."

"I'm glad that you and Isobel found your way back to each other. I'm glad you made your peace with it…"

Robert smiles sadly. "But?"

"I won't tell anyone your secret. Not ever. But, it's a lot Robert. Not telling anyone is one thing, but I don't know if I can keep spending time here if it means that I have to start actively lying to my family."

He squeezes her hand. "Okay. Ah understand."

Peg laughs as tears slide down her face. "Gee, could ye be a wee bit more broken up?"

"Oh, dinnae' misunderstand. Ah'll miss ye, Peggy. Yer a good woman and a lovely friend, but Ah've been on the other side of this thing. Ah've been where yer at right noo… and it is a lot. It's more than ye ken. Even noo. Trust me, one piece of floating birthday cake is jus' the beginning. There is so much more."

She smiles, unable to resist. "Like what?"

Robert lifts her hand to his lips and kisses it. "It would be kinder of me not to answer that. Come to church with us this morning?"

Peg nods. "I'd like that."

"We still 'ave a few hours a'fore we have tae leave. Wye dinnae ye go back upstairs and try tae steal another hour of sleep fae the day?"

Peg tilts her head to one side, thinking about it, but before her decision is made, a yawning brown mackerel tabby cat with a luxuriously thick longhaired coat strides into the dark kitchen and makes her way to the refrigerator.

Unnoticed by the cat, Peg leans over and whispers to Robert, "When did you decide to get a cat?"

Smiling, he whispers back, "Another decision that was made fir me…"

He addresses the cat. "Good morning, mo leannain..."

Confused, Peg squints, and then she screams, because before she has time to ask Robert to explain, the feline on the kitchen floor in front of the refrigerator begins to transform and Logan McGonagall emerges in its place.

Startled, by Peg's unexpected scream, Logan's corresponding yowl morphs into a scream of her own; and snatched from sleep by the sound of obvious distress, Minerva springs from the seat of the leather recliner in the living room, transforms herself on the run, and charges into the kitchen on two feet, as opposed to four, with her wand raised.

"Logan!"

Peg screams again upon sight of Minerva with her wand at the ready.

Stepping between the two older women in the room, Robert shouts, "Everything is fine!"

Relieved not to see copious amounts of blood on the kitchen walls or anything equally devastating, and simultaneously irritated at being roused in such a manner, Minerva pants, breathing hard, as she stows her wand up the sleeve of her robe. "Then please explain why Logan is yowling before dawn. Why is Mrs. Fairley screaming? What's going on?"

Logan raises her hand, hesitantly calling attention to herself. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I'm okay. It's my fault."

"Why is it your fault?" Minerva snaps.

"I wandered in. I didn't know they were in here. I wasn't paying attention. I…" She gestures with her hands. "you know… transformed."

Crossing the room, on the verge of embracing her, Minerva smacks Logan on the arm. "You did… what? In front of her?"

"I know, I know, I know… Hit me again!"

With her lips pinched together sternly, Minerva does swat Logan on the arm again and then pulls her into an embrace. "You scared me half to death! I was dreaming about last weekend. I came awake to the sound of you two screaming… And I thought… I apologize, Mrs. Fairl…"

Half a dozen more family members burst into the room. Malcolm, and his oldest son Jack, both demanding when they find no assailants in the room, "What's happening now?"

Minerva waves them back the way they came. "Nothing. Everything's fine. Go back to bed. Logan startled Mrs. Fairley."

Ellie yawns. "Again?" but her mother forcibly turns her around and gently shoves her back through the swinging door before she gets an answer to her question.

Kellan intones drolly, "Nice job Logan."

"Hey, you know what Kellan? Go f…"

Minerva clamps a hand over Logan's mouth before she can finish her thought, just as Robert raises his voice above the din. "Language!"

When the room once again falls silent, he motions them all toward the door. "Show's over. Everybody back tae bed."

From the living room, purely to annoy her cousin, Logan is heard saying, "I was going to tell you to go fly a kite."

"Sure, ye were."

"I was. I can imagine what you thought, and I don't know where you learned to talk like that. Nobody in this house taught me to talk like that."

"Go boil yer heid!"

Exchanging a look with Minerva in the kitchen, Aileen calls out, "Ah'm jus aboot ready tae lock the two of ye in a room together and refuse tae let ye oot until you learn tae get along…"

Minerva adds, "Or until you kill each other!"

"Minna!"

Minerva steps into the kitchen doorway, a challenging look on her stern face. "Do you have something else you want to say?"

One look at her, and Logan heads for the stairs. "No ma'am. I'm going to take a shower now."

Minerva steps back into the kitchen shaking her head. "Why is it that we can never get to church on Sunday morning as a family without bickering the whole way there?"

Chuckling, Aileen holds up the coffee pot. "Coffee?"

"No thank you. I've already been jolted awake. I don't think I need another stimulant."

Peg turns contrite eyes her way. "I am sorry."

Minerva shakes her head. "It's not your fault Mrs. Fairley. You need not apologize."

"There is something I am confused about."

Minerva raises an eyebrow. "Ask. I will answer if I can."

"If Logan can sense other people's emotions halfway across this city, how is it that she did not know we were here in the kitchen. How did I manage to surprise her every bit as much as she surprised me?"

Minerva pauses to consider her words before answering. "It is very difficult to sense, or properly interpret human emotion when one is not… human."

Pegs eyes widen dramatically. "Really? So, that means that when she… What'd you call it… transforms, her empathic ability doesn't work?"

"No. It still works. It's just very hard to extrapolate the information about human emotion and turn it into something that a cat can understand. Animals do not experience emotion in quite the same way as humans. An animal's emotions are rooted in the instinct for survival. If they experience or become aware of something that isn't likely to directly effect their survival, they often consider it extraneous and mentally set it aside. Plus, Logan is young yet. Yes, she's an adult, but often, the most powerful empaths, the ones who have the greatest control or skill when it comes to manipulating their own abilities, are much older mages. Human emotion is a very complex thing. Animals emotions are usually more straightforward; very simple by comparison. Learning to interpret either one of those while in the opposite form requires the kind of absolute mastery that only comes with age. Logan handles herself exceptionally well. She's able to survive and maintain her anonymity in the muggle world. However, as you saw last night, it's a work in progress. She's fine with nearly all of us. It's not unusual, if she is having a hard time filtering us all out, for her to transform here in this house. She prefers to sleep that way. It's more peaceful for her. She and Kellan have always locked horns. Even when they were very small children, and the reason for that is simple. They are very much alike in one crucial way. They are both very passionate people. Most of the time, Logan has better control over her emotions than Kellan, who is usually driven by his. Logan is most at ease, with people who rely more heavily on logic than emotion. The few close friends she does have are very pragmatic people. They are usually older than her, and therefore more mature than people her own age, and they always have a good grip on their own emotions. At any given moment, whatever Kellan is feeling, it's there for the world to see. He's not always surly and combative. He's frequently excited about one thing or another, and he is capable of being very affectionate, but when he is in a bad temper, he and Logan bring out the worst in each other."

Peg frowns. "She doesn't have very many friends? How can that be? She so captivating, almost magnetic."

"It's very hard living with an empath. You have to learn to marshal, not only your feelings, but your thoughts as well, because thoughts usually lead to feelings, and vice versa. As hard as it is for us, it's even harder for her to live with anyone. Most people's emotions are somewhat on the messy side. She feels everything. Not just for herself, but for everybody else in the room. It's hard for her to stay on an even keel when she's constantly aware of the happy baby in the room, the newlywed couple down the block who live life on an emotional pendulum; swinging back and forth between erotic euphoria and frequent shouting matches while they struggle to figure out how two people live together, the neighbor who suffers from bipolar depression in the house on the corner who goes on manic shopping sprees when she's not curled up in a dark corner crying, the disgruntled man who brushes past her in the grocery store who is not so secretly thinking about killing his cheating wife. She doesn't just sense it. She doesn't just know about it. She feels it. She is bombarded by all of this, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. All of the little white lies that most people tell their friends and associates to avoid hurting their feelings… That doesn't work with her. You cannot lie to her. It is next to impossible to hide anything from her. Try buying her a birthday or a Christmas present, and not have her know about it before you get the wrapping paper around the box it came in. She is aware of every feeling and most of the thoughts that go with those feelings. so, for her, forming lasting friendships is not easy. It requires something excruciatingly near to total honesty. Most people are a little uncomfortable with that. People come and go from Logan's life every day. The ones who last, the ones who stick around, are usually very erudite, very self-possessed people."

"Does she date?"

"Rarely. Dating is hard. As hard as it is for any of us, it's nearly impossible for her. I keep hoping for the day she finds someone she can live with. Someone strong enough, someone worthy enough to live with her. Right now, her career is her life."

Peg sighs. "Keeping the family secret has to be hard enough. Try going on a first date. Being aware of every flicker of inappropriate thought or emotion your dinner date has about the length of your skirt while he's sitting across the table from you cutting up his steak."

"Exactly."

Dressed in muggle attire that consists of a charcoal gray linen pantsuit and a green silk blouse accompanied by heels, but not one of her customary conical hats, Minerva is seated in the front pew of the First Presbyterian Church between Peg and Logan.

As always, getting everybody out of the house in a timely fashion had been a chore - one that was made even more challenging after the morning's uproar. Getting the younger generation to church minus their wands is no problem. They all know the rules. Getting them there without their cell phones, is another battle altogether. After tense conversation, all electronic devices that were not left at the manse are left in the various vehicles they arrived in. The only exception, of course, being Logan, who carries both a cell phone and a pager, day or night, but respectfully mutes both before stepping into the building.

As usual, services began with the opening prayer, Logan sings with the choir, and approximately 30 minutes into her grandfather's sermon, she quietly checks the vibrating pager clipped against her left hip. Inhaling quietly, she resigns herself to the fact that for her, and others like her, the workweek never ends. Returning her pager to its proper place, she reaches for her shoulder bag beneath the pew without losing her place in the sermon. Without a word, she slips her bible into the bag, rolls her long hair into a tight knot, and clips it without need of a mirror. She extracts a small vial of eye drops from the side pocket of her bag. After applying them quietly, she drops the vial back into its proper place, and then, because her leaving in the middle of a Sunday sermon is not unheard of, she whispers in Minerva's ear, "Pile up on the turnpike. Gonna be a long day. I'll call you if I get the chance."

Minerva nods and squeezes her hand silently.

Logan discreetly blows a kiss to her grandfather, mouths 'happy birthday,' shoulders her bag, and slips out of the sanctuary as quickly and as quietly as any cat would do.

Later, when the service has ended, Minerva stands in the vestibule alongside her father dutifully offering farewells to familiar congregation members, most of whom feel obligated to comment on the fact that it's nice to see her, but that while it happens often enough on Sundays, she's hardly ever in attendance on Wednesday nights. Minerva smiles politely and makes all the right noises, knowing that soon it will be over, and she can return to her own quieter existence. When the last parishioner is gone, and the family is sorted into vehicles, her father dangles the keys to his car in front of her. "Want to drive."

She nods with quiet appreciation. "I so seldom get the chance."

Robert offers the front passenger seat to Peg and settles in the back. Once they are on their way, he asks, "Are you staying for dinner?"

Uncertain which one of them he is talking to, the two women look at each other before simultaneously shaking their heads. Peg says, "I need to get home before Jamie starts looking for me." And Minerva offers simply, "I've got to get back Da."

"Ye ken, even God rested on the seventh day, Minerva."

She nods. "I'm well aware. Ordinarily, I would too, but 1 September really is just around the corner, and if I don't get moving... Well, I've got a castle that's going to be nowhere near ready. My predecessor left me with some pretty big shoes to fill."

Hearing the discreet note of tension in her voice, her father asks, "Aren't ye skippin' over something important there, lass?" He stresses the first word of his next sentence. "Your predecessor left you with a mess to clean up. If Snape had done the decent thing and left the runnin' of the place tae ye last year, as his predecessor intended, Ah'm certain the place wouldnae be in near ruins now."

Minerva smirks. "Regardless, this is what I've got to deal with."

"You'll be fine… and so will that school of yers. Dumbledore knew what he was doin."

"More than a few people thought he was somewhat barmy."

"Aye, but ye weren't one of them."

Minerva laughs. "Da, I told him he was barmy to his face, more than once."

"Aw, he was entertainin'. That much is fir sure, but lack of brains was never his problem, and ye kenned it. I dinnae care whut ye told him. If ye had no respect fir the man, ye wouldnae 'ave spent forty years workin fir him."

When she deliberately applies more focus to her driving, and keeps silent to refrain from revealing the instant her throat constricts with a rush of grief, Robert reaches over the back of the front seat and gently squeezes his daughter's left shoulder.

The moment hangs heavily in the air until Peg asks hesitantly, "Can I ask a question?"

Minerva almost smiles, eager for the distraction the other woman is very gently providing. "Yes, of course, please."

"Why don't you get to drive?"

"It's something that's not often necessary. Witches and wizards have other means of getting from one place to another, though I don't find any of them half as enjoyable."

Making a discovery, Peg states plainly. "You would prefer driving."

Minerva nods. "Walking is also highly underrated."

Robert nods. "And better fir ye too. He queries, "So the two of ye are really going tae leave me alone fir dinner."

Minerva chuckles dryly. "No. We are not leaving you alone. You'll have Malcolm and his bunch. You might wish you were alone. You can come see me for a few hours next weekend, if you like."

"Hmm… And wye did Logan leave us this time? Apartment fire? Heart attack? A nasty incident with a garbage disposal?"

"That reminds me, we should take a different way home. Accident on the turnpike."

"That girl works too hard. Can't imagine who taught her how tae dae that."

"Don't complain. She's self-supporting, or at least, she's very nearly there, and she's making good choices, which is more than I can say for a few of her cousins. Being independent gives her a certain amount of freedom. It means she gets to be the one to make the decisions in her life. Not somebody else. Besides, it's good to have a calling."

"As long as she doesn't become a slave to it."

"There are far worse things to dedicate oneself to than nursing." Though, I admit, I do occasionally worry about the toll it takes on her."

"She's a McGonagall. She's tough. And she kens how tae cut loose when she needs tae. Something it wouldnae hurt ye tae learn."

Minerva says nothing, but in her mind, she can clearly recall a snippet of an old conversation in which Dumbledore had once told her, "Please, Minerva, you take a wild hair and Scotland will never be the same!"

Forty-five minutes after leaving her father and Mrs. Fairley at the manse, Minerva steps into the dynamically decorated atrium at the London Ministry of Magic. On her way to the bank of lifts, she stops, pleasantly relieved to find a crew of maintenance staff busy magically dismantling the statue that had once been the focal point of the area.

Smiling, she turns when a deep resonating familiar voice calls out to her. "Professor McGonagall."

Kingsley Shacklebolt has the look of a man who was on his way somewhere else when he caught sight of her. "Minister."

He nods toward the work crew and whispers, "About time they took that monstrosity down. I would've taken it down myself my first day here; if they wouldn't have frowned on me bringing a wrecking ball in here."

McGonagall almost chuckles. "That would've been a sight! Though, I'm not sure if a photo of you taking a wrecking ball to a statue that proclaims, 'Magic is Might!' would've worked for, or against you. I can just see the banner headline with said picture above the fold in The Daily Profit now. Rita Skeeter would be positively apoplectic."

Kingsley snaps his fingers at the missed opportunity. "Damn! I should've done it!" He looks her over. "Dressing down?"

"Just came from church with my family."

"I didn't know this when I was in school. No reason I would have, but I've recently learned that your father is a minister."

"He is. In a muggle town this side of Caithness."

"You must have had a remarkable upbringing."

"It was a study in duality … but I'm hardly the first."

Shacklebolt nods. "Enough small talk. What brings you to my house today?"

"I need to have a word with Talbot Winger – and I need to do it unofficially."

He steps back with a smile and a slight bow, before continuing on his way. "I never saw you here."