Dreamers
Sunday, 8 November 1942
The next morning, only about half of the Gryffindors made it to the Great Hall for breakfast. Oliver, like the rest of this dormmates, might not have if Minerva hadn't personally shaken him awake and insisted that he come downstairs with her and eat something. She'd known him long enough to know that he would be a bear to deal with if he missed breakfast. The Gryffindors had partied into the wee hours of the morning, loudly celebrating their victory. It wasn't until Minerva woke up the next morning that she realized that since they hadn't been told to quiet down and go to bed, Dumbledore must have spent the night away from Hogwarts, which meant he likely spent it at Headquarters. The thought had chilled her and brought her back down to reality, although a more cheerful part of her nagged that maybe he just wanted to let the Gryffindors have their fun without interrupting his sleep, and that him sleeping at Headquarters was a conscious, benign decision.
That nagging voice wasn't strong enough to overcome her worrying nature, though.
Minerva's thoughts were on what Dumbledore might have done the night before as she ate her breakfast that morning. Dumbledore was not seated in his chair next to Dippet, but Minerva acknowledged that he might have come and gone before she arrived considering how late she was to breakfast. She ate slowly, but did her best to remain present; she was still the star of Gryffindor at the moment. People were still coming up and congratulating her on Gryffindor's victory, and she needed to put on smiles for them.
When the flutter of wings from above indicated the arrival of the owls, the smiles of the people around Minerva faltered. Conversely, Minerva perked up. Perhaps the Prophet would be able to give her an idea about what pulled Dumbledore away from Hogwarts the night before. Branwen, the family owl, reached her before the Prophet owl, though, and Minerva dutifully relieved her of the three letters addressed to her before sending her to Michael and Mason. She set those letters aside as the Prophet owl landed in the spot Branwen had just vacated. She quickly paid the owl and anxiously opened the newspaper. A strange mixture of relief and disappointment flooded her at the sight of the frontpage headline: Spencer-Moon Announces Formal Alliance with Italian Rebels. If the headline was about the Minister for Magic's politics, there must not have been a devastating attack. Dumbledore would not have stayed away from Hogwarts for a small-scale attack, she would think. She snorted softly at the thought that he may have genuinely just wanted to get some sleep and while simultaneously letting the Gryffindors have their fun.
Before she could actually start to read the frontpage article, though, Oliver tapped her on the shoulder. She glanced over it him. He was holding a letter and pointing at the owl in front of him while chewing a mouthful of breakfast sausage. Minerva blinked at him uncomprehendingly, and so he said through his food, "Mail for you."
It took Minerva a second to translate the syllables muffled by sausage into actual English words, and when she did, she started in her seat and turned her attention to the unfamiliar owl in surprise. She tried not to interpret the expression on the waiting owl's face as judgement as she quickly untied the letter addressed to her from its leg. Once free of its burden, the owl spread its wings and flew up into the air and out of the Great Hall.
Minerva examined the letter curiously, flipping it over to inspect the seal. She compared it to Oliver's and noted that they both had the same "A" formed by three arrows imprinted in the wax. They both broke open the seals. As Minerva started to pull her letter out, she was startled again by another owl flying overhead and dropping a sealed scroll unceremoniously into her eggs. Oliver raised his eyebrows at the scroll, still chewing, and Minerva gingerly picked the scroll up out of her food. Their eyes met, and then they returned to the letters they'd already started to open. Minerva unfolded it and quickly read the contents. Then she read it again. Stunned, she skimmed it over a third time. Next to her, Oliver was laughing gleefully, "The Arrows! Can you believe it?"
No, Minerva could not believe it. The letter was an invitation to participate in the summer intensive training camp for the Appleby Arrows next year. They wanted her. A professional Quidditch team thought she was good enough for a second look, good enough to participate in their training camp. Minerva was truly stunned. Playing Quidditch had never been in the plan for the rest of her life, and despite the brief swell of pride that had risen in her chest when she'd read the letter, that had not changed. She was flattered, but she knew, already, that she would not accept. This was not the path for her, no matter how much she enjoyed Quidditch.
"And the Kestrels! Minerva!" Minerva looked over at Oliver to find him delightfully clutching two offer letters, his eyes bright and his face flushed. She didn't know where he'd gotten the second one, but she had been rather distracted. She glanced around, searching for a letter like his from the Kenmare Kestrels. Her eyes found the scroll again. She broke its seal and unrolled it. It was not from the Kestrels, but from the Harpies.
"The Harpies," Minerva murmured.
"The Harpies? Minerva! You have to do that one!" Oliver exclaimed.
Minerva looked over at her boyfriend, surprised. He seemed genuinely excited about this. She hadn't thought he wanted to play Quidditch professionally, but now that she thought about it, she wasn't sure what she thought he wanted to do as a career.
"I don't think I'm going to, Oliver," she replied, setting both offers aside.
He stared at her, open-mouthed, "What do you mean, you're not going to? You have to!"
"I don't, actually," she replied shortly, beginning to feel irritated at his insistence.
"But this is an opportunity of a lifetime! Don't you want to know what's it's like, at least?"
Minerva hesitated. She didn't want to start a row, not in public and especially not in such a large room that was quieter than it normally was. The Quidditch offers didn't seem like real options, as though they were opportunities from another world that was not her reality. She was afraid of she confessing that, since she was of-age, she'd hoped that she would be able to take a more active role in helping with the war next summer. He would argue that she was letting the war control her life too much, which, she acknowledged, was a valid argument, but that didn't change the fact that she needed to help.
Instead, she replied, "I just am not interested in playing professional Quidditch."
"You don't have to be to participate! Accepting isn't a promise to join the reserves!"
"It might be expected for someone who is seventeen," she countered.
Oliver's reply was cut short by a whirl of black robes and blonde hair as Rolanda arrived out of nowhere and wedged herself between them, clutching three letters. Minerva, startled, looked at Rolanda and saw her blue eyes sparkling, her face flushed, and the brightest grin Minerva had ever seen grace her best friend's face. "I have letters from the Kestrels, the Arrows, and the Harpies to join their summer camps! Oo!" She snatched Minerva's letters off the table where they'd been discarded, "The Arrows and the Harpies! Min! Oh Min! You must join me!"
Minerva chuckled softly and took the letters from Rolanda. She gave her a pointed, patient look and replied, "You know that's not in my plan, Ro."
Rolanda's smile faltered, but she didn't argue like Oliver had. Instead, she gave Minerva an understanding look and replied, "A witch can dream, can't she?"
"Anyway, what if you choose the Kestrels? I didn't get an offer from them," Minerva said. She glanced around Rolanda at Oliver and added, "Oliver did, though. The Kestrels and the Arrows."
"She's probably too Scottish for the Kestrels," he teased.
Rolanda laughed, "If only Slughorn had brought someone from the Magpies. She might have actually considered it if they'd given her an offer!" Minerva rolled her eyes at them. Rolanda bumped her shoulder playfully and finally answered Minerva's question, "I'd rather accept the offer from Arrows or the Harpies over the Kestrels'. The Arrows because I'm English – half-English, but still, English – and the Harpies because, well, it's the Harpies."
Oliver smirked, "It sounds like you've made up your mind."
Rolanda smiled sheepishly, "I'd love to play for the Harpies. I'm just worried that I would have a harder time making it to the starting team since I'm not Welsh. The Arrows are a good option."
Minerva raised her eyebrows at Rolanda, "You've never been one to back down from a challenge. You've been working towards this for years."
"I know, but now that it's finally here…I'm just suddenly so nervous that it's going to slip through my fingers. One wrong move and I could end up with nothing," she replied, not quite meeting Minerva's eyes.
"Or you could end up with everything you've ever dreamed of," Minerva countered softly, squeezing her friend's hand.
Rolanda smiled tightly, "I need to think about it."
Eyeing the Slytherin, Minerva vowed to herself to not let her settle for anything less than the Harpies.
Albus Dumbledore took breakfast that morning in the Flamels' suite at Resistance Headquarters. He had decided the night before that the Gryffindors needed to let loose and savor what little moments of their youth that they could. To that end, and so he could still get a good night's sleep, he had chosen to spend the night at Headquarters, leaving the responsibility of monitoring if any Gryffindors snuck out that night to the ghosts and his colleagues on the patrol schedule. The Flamels were only too happy to welcome him the previous night, and had insisted he breakfast with them the next morning.
Nicolas passed Albus his copy of the Prophet and took this morning's edition of Éclairage from his wife. Éclairage was the wizarding French underground newspaper that was founded in response to Grindelwald's forces closing Le Chemin, the former national wizarding newspaper. Albus skimmed the frontpage article about Spencer-Moon's alliance with the Italian Resistance and commented, in French, "Arrigo Borzellieri is certainly making an impact."
Perenelle nodded, and replied in French, "He is. Of course, he's putting a lot of energy into his efforts. This is what he stayed behind for in the first place, while his parents escaped, after all." Albus and Perenelle exchanged a grimace over their respective newspapers. "I'm sure Vincenzo and Bianca are extremely proud. He's a strong leader, even for someone so young." She punctuated her statement with a sip from her morning cup of Elixir of Life.
"Does it change anything for us?" Albus asked.
Nicolas shook his head as he swallowed some of his own cup of Elixir, "No, the conditions of their alliance with Spencer-Moon don't prohibit them from working with other rebel groups."
"I thought he knew about us?"
"He does, but we have not been able to reach an agreement on how much control he can have over our operations," Nicolas smirked over the rim of his cup, "This has been particularly frustrating for him over our base in Portsmouth."
Albus chuckled, "No, I can't imagine he's too pleased about rogue operations happening in the south of England."
"Particularly since many of his Aurors volunteer there," Perenelle grinned.
Still smirking slightly, Nicolas conceded, "He is doing the best he can, I'll give him that. We simply have different strategies. And, of course, we have different priorities, as I have France's best interests in mind while he understandably has Britain's."
"France does need more help than Britain," Albus added softly.
Perenelle smiled sadly and placed a hand on his arm, "And we appreciate how much time and energy you have donated to France's efforts against Grindelwald."
Albus gave her a tight smile in return and replied lightly, "You have given me a lot to do."
"We would give you more, but you have that day job that you insist on returning to," Nicolas joked.
"Speaking of which," Perenelle said, "shouldn't you be going back soon?"
"The Head of Gryffindor and Deputy Headmaster cannot take even Sunday for himself, is that it?" Albus retorted, his eyes sparkling.
"Not with those titles, no," Perenelle replied, laughing.
Albus leaned over towards Nicolas and stage whispered in German, "I think she is trying to tell me to leave."
"You should know by now that we feel twenty years old again once we drink the Elixir, Albus," Perenelle interjected, switching to German as well and winking at him.
Nicolas grinned at his wife and, without looking at Albus, added in German, "Take the hint and leave, son."
Albus crinkled his crooked nose at them and stood, speaking in English for the first time that morning, "I'll see you tonight, then."
They waved him away dismissively. Albus shook his head as he let himself out, grinning slightly. He took his time walking through the hallways back to his own room, gazing out the windows at the French countryside as he went. They were east of Paris in a region occupied by Muggle Germany, but were Secret Kept and heavily warded against any attempts of detection. They also suspected that Grindelwald had a similarly protected hideout somewhere nearby in this relatively untouched part of the countryside. As he looked out the windows, he wondered if his old friend was nearby, or even if his hideout was somewhere hidden in his line of sight. It was unlikely, but the thought was humbling.
Albus dithered near the stairs from the first floor, where his room was, to the ground floor. It was a beautiful day, and the Flamels' chateau had a manicured garden within the bounds of the Fidelius Charm. He debated whether or not he should take a little more time for himself before returning to the chaos of Hogwarts or the war effort; of course, though, if he made his way to the ground floor, he ran the risk of encountering other members of the Resistance who may ask him for his opinion on strategies.
Hesitating only a moment longer, Albus decided to take the risk and continue down the next flight of stairs. It was early enough that Headquarters would still be mostly quiet; the reward was higher than the potential risk. As he made his way leisurely down the stairs, Albus hummed a tune he'd listened to on his gramophone from a chamber music record the night before as he prepared for bed. After his decision to let the Gryffindors have their fun, his relaxing evening, and the pleasant breakfast he'd had with Nicolas and Perenelle, he was in a particularly good mood. He felt as though today had the potential to be a great day.
He encountered no one on the ground floor as he made his way to the door to the back courtyard with the manicured garden, which cheered him even more. As he stepped outside, he inhaled the fresh air deeply, and exhaled in contentment. The weather was perfect. It almost seemed inappropriate for it to be so beautiful around a place so full of stress and riddled with fear. Death seemed to be around every proverbial corner, and yet, the earth kept turning and Mother Nature remained as beautiful as ever. Albus knew he needed to take this moment to appreciate it, to remind himself of the good in the world.
Albus spent about fifteen minutes strolling alone through the garden undisturbed before there was even a sign of other sentient life at the chateau. He heard the voices first and turned his back away from the door, hoping to not be recognized and be left alone. Logically, though, he knew this was futile, as he had a very recognizable way of dressing and styling his hair. A wizard could dream, though.
"I'm telling you, William, your mother would love to add this plant to her garden – look, that one, right there."
"How do you know she doesn't already have all of the plants she wants? How would we even gift a garden plant?"
"We'd give her seeds, Will, or a sprout! Honestly, you scare me sometimes. And I know because I've been subjected to her lectures about them enough to know both what she has and what she likes."
Albus glanced over his shoulder and saw William and Halina McGonagall standing near the door, in front of a plant with yellow flowers growing out of stalks rising from the earth. William glanced up at precisely the same moment, as if sensing someone's eyes on him. Albus was caught; he could not look away now. He turned fully to approach and greet them. As he opened his mouth to bid them a good morning, Halina spoke first and said in lieu of a greeting, "Do you know what kind of plant this is, Dumbledore?"
His eyebrows shot up and he hesitated, eyeing the flowering plant, "I'm afraid I do not, Halina. I'm sure one of the house-elves does, though. They are responsible for keeping the garden."
Halina hummed in disappointment as she eyed the plant. Meanwhile, William asked, "What are you doing here so early, Dumbledore?"
Albus smiled, "Avoiding the ruckus your daughter caused, actually." Halina's head snapped up, her eyes wide. William's mouth formed an 'O' of surprise, suddenly speechless. Albus took pity on them and chuckled, "She led Gryffindor to victory on the Quidditch pitch yesterday, and I thought they deserved to take some time to enjoy life. I also thought that I deserved a good night's sleep, though, so I came here."
The twin relief that flashed across their faces amused Albus nearly as much as their earlier shock. William beamed proudly, "That's a good lass! I wish I'd known that before I sent my letter off to her last night. I would have congratulated her. So, she caught the Snitch? Was it a good game?"
"It was a stressful game for Gryffindor. Miss Robinson is a remarkable Keeper, while Mr. Longbottom is, admittedly, only an average one. Your daughter's catch saved Gryffindor. She gave me quite the smug look when she did, I might add, since in order to do so she performed a trick I had advised her against doing just a week ago." Halina made a quiet, strangled noise at this. "It was quite impressive, though. I would normally say that kind of stunt would be the talk of the school, if it hadn't been for the fact that Mr. Prewett proposed to Miss Black on the pitch."
"Dear Merlin, how young are they?" Halina asked, aghast.
Albus laughed, "I'm not sure, but they're in their seventh year, and they both come from traditional pureblooded families, which I don't need to elaborate on for your benefit, I'm sure."
Halina sighed, rubbing her head tiredly. William grinned at her, "I proposed to you on graduation day, remember."
She shot him a look, "That's still very young, but at least there was no overlap between our time as students and our time being engaged."
"You only feel that way because we have children now," he replied, laughing.
"Your point?" she retorted, raising an eyebrow, much like her daughter would, in Albus's opinion.
William sighed and just gave her an amused look, taking her hand, "You can't protect them forever, Lina."
"I can certainly discourage them from making hasty life choices while they're students," Halina huffed, releasing his hand and crossing her arms. "In any case, Minerva seems to have a better head on her shoulders than all that. Would you agree, Dumbledore?"
"From what I know of her academically, I would think so," Dumbledore replied. "I'm sure she's written to you about her tutoring club?"
Halina beamed, "She has! I never had the chance to thank you for helping her put it together, but I'm so appreciative of your part in making it official."
"It was all her, truly. I simply had to tell the Headmaster."
Halina practically glowed with pride at that.
"Well, I hope you find out what kind of plant this is. I should be going, though. Have a good day," Albus said, adjusting his robes and starting to leave.
Halina's voice behind him stopped him in his tracks, "Wait, Dumbledore!" Albus turned. "Sylvia told us about the first-year boy. Do you have any updates on his condition?"
Albus sighed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his robes. "No, his condition is the same, but Camelia is taking exceptional care of our Mandrakes to prepare them for the cure."
"You haven't mentioned anything about the attack in our meetings," William commented.
"That's because Nicolas and I are confident that this is not connected to Grindelwald. This is Hogwarts's concern. The Resistance cannot –"
"Hold on, Dumbledore. I'm sorry to interrupt, but I think anyone in the Resistance with children in Hogwarts would say that any concern of Hogwarts is a concern of ours," William interjected, his face grave.
Albus smiled patiently at William, "I understand the way you must feel –"
"You don't have children, Dumbledore, so excuse me for doubting that," William interrupted harshly, not taking kindly to what he interpreted as a condescending expression on Albus's face.
Albus paused, taking a breath and fighting to keep his expression neutral. "Then allow me to be frank. It seems Mr. Crowley was targeted for being Muggle-born. While that is a serious tragedy and injustice, it is not one that directly impacts any member of the Resistance, for all of their children at Hogwarts are not Muggle-born. Forgive those of us at Hogwarts who thought that your children were safe, at least from this particular attacker, because of their blood-status."
"You can't know –"
"For certain? No, of course not. But as I was saying before you interrupted me earlier, the Resistance cannot expend its limited resources on a non-war related issue. Hogwarts is on high alert for another attack. We will not grow complacent again regarding the safety of the castle." Albus straightened his shoulders, drawing himself up to his full height. He released some of the tight control he had over his extensive magical reserves, allowing William to feel a fraction of his power. William, ever a Gryffindor, did not back down, but he did not say anything further. Albus continued, "If you have any further concerns about the Resistance's position on the attack at Hogwarts, take them to Nicolas. I have nothing more to say on the matter. Now, I really must be returning to the school. William, Halina, I wish you a good day." With a sweep of his indigo robes, he marched purposefully away, his magic crackling around him. This time, the McGonagalls did not stop him.
Albus did not relax until he was within the safety of his room. He leaned against his door with his eyes closed and his shoulders sagging, and sighed deeply. That could have gone better, he thought ruefully to himself.
Fawkes chirruped softly from his perch. Albus opened his eyes and smiled sadly at him. Fawkes started to sing, quietly at first; the song filled Albus up, warming him from the inside. The song grew louder as Albus's spirts lifted. Albus pushed off from the wall and walked over to Fawkes's perch to stroke the singing bird. As the song ended, Albus gave Fawkes a surer smile. The memories of his difficult conversation with the McGonagalls were still there, but duller than they were before the song.
One sentence, though, was a little sharper-edged in his mind still. You don't have children, Dumbledore. He met Fawkes's beady black eyes as a pang shot through his heart. No, I don't. I have Fawkes.
Minerva sat under the big tree by the lake with Oliver on her right and Poppy on her left. They sat in an oval with their friends enjoying the beautiful autumn day. On Oliver's other side, Rolanda was leaning on Richard, and Theodore Brighton sat between them and another couple, Donnie and Augusta. Pomona sat on Poppy's other side. Conversation had mostly revolved around Quidditch: yesterday's match, the upcoming match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and the offer letters that arrived in the mail that day. Donnie hadn't received one, which he was a little miffed about, but he was excited for Oliver, who was almost certainly going to do it. The Arrows were his team, the team he'd followed since he'd first learned about Quidditch; he couldn't pass on an opportunity to play for them, even in a camp capacity.
Throughout the Quidditch talk, Minerva could tell that Poppy and Pomona were growing bored. They participated during the conversations about yesterday's game, and were asked their opinions on the upcoming game between their houses, but as the Quidditch talk drew on they turned towards each other and had side conversations. Minerva herself started to lose focus as talk about next summer's training camps wore on. Pomona and Poppy were currently talking about their Healing class, so Minerva couldn't contribute to that. She instead looked around at the other students out enjoying the day. There was a group of first-year Gryffindors farther down at the edge of the lake with various foods laid out next to them in the grass. The way they were leaning over the lake, throwing some of the food in every now and then, led Minerva to believe that they were trying to bait the giant squid. As Prefect, she should probably put a stop to that, but she was too relaxed to be bothered. They weren't in danger. Closer to the forest, walking along the edge, Minerva thought she spotted her younger brother and his best friend Keith Vaughan. She was sure it was Michael because of how he crouched down every few feet to take a photo of something he found at the edge of the forest. At one point, Keith stepped over the line of the forest, just within the trees, and stuck his tongue out, waving. Minerva snorted softly as Michael's laughter carried over to where she sat; she watched as he humored his friend by taking his photo.
"Hmm?" Oliver hummed in Minerva's ear in response to her quiet snort. Minerva brought her attention back to her friends. Rolanda and Donnie were in a heated debate over how good the Harpies were, and even Augusta seemed outraged at her boyfriend. Minerva imagined he must have been making certain implications about the all-female team to garner such strong reactions from the two ladies. Theodore looked distinctly uncomfortable at being trapped in the physical middle of the argument.
Minerva leaned more heavily against Oliver to murmur, "I was just laughing at Michael and his friend Keith. Michael was taking a picture of Keith just inside of the Forbidden Forest."
Oliver chuckled, "You going to get them, Madam Prefect?"
Minerva hummed in mock-consideration before replying, "But then I would have to get up." Oliver laughed more fully now. Minerva grinned at him. Once Oliver stopped laughing, Minerva added, "Besides, if I got them in trouble, I would also have to tell off those firsties over there," she jerked her thumb to the first-years still trying to bait the giant squid, "and after my victory yesterday, I'm not in the mood to be taking any points from Gryffindor. Those are my points."
"That's not very sportsmanlike of you, Minerva," he pouted. "I thought those were our points?"
She waved her had dismissively, "That rubbish? That's an illusion. Don't you know, it's all about me?"
Oliver laughed. "Yes, Captain. Of course. How foolish of me."
Smiling lazily, Minerva turned her eyes back towards the forest to find her little brother again. He was walking towards her tree, now, with her in his line of sight. She raised her hand and waved at him. He waved back. Meanwhile, Oliver interjected in the argument brewing between Donnie, Rolanda, and Augusta, "Donnie, mate, you sound like an arse. Put a sock in it."
Richard shot Oliver a thankful look; Minerva supposed he knew better than to dare get involved in one of Rolanda's arguments, lest she turn on him for trying to fight her battles. Rolanda did shoot Oliver a sharp look, but before she could say anything, Donnie said, "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. All I'm saying is that the fact that they don't accept male players makes them a little bit of a novelty team. But!" Donnie raised his voice as both Rolanda and Augusta opened their mouths, "But you've both made great points about the performance qualities of most if not all professional Quidditch teams. I'm sorry."
Augusta deflated a little, although her lips were still set in a hard line. Rolanda squinted at Donnie for a little longer, but Richard was now rubbing soothing circles on her back now that the argument seemed to be over. After a few tense seconds, she leaned against Richard and said with her chin raised slightly, "I accept your apology."
Minerva was thankful that Rolanda had turned her focus on Richard and did not see Donnie roll his eyes at her lofty way of granting forgiveness.
In that slightly awkward lull in conversation, Michael and Keith finally arrived at their tree. Minerva smiled brightly up at her younger brother, "Hello, Michael! I haven't seen you much around school."
Michael shrugged, looking vaguely uncomfortable in front of such a large group of older students, "We're both busy, I guess. Different houses, different years."
"Yes, well, I would like to see more of you. Maybe I could meet you in Hogsmeade for the next trip and we could shop for gifts for the family together?" Minerva suggested. She watched him with interest, as his attention was clearly focused on the big tree they were all seated under, rather than her.
Michael shrugged again, "Sure, okay." He eyed the tree again, and then asked, "Would you all like me to take a picture of you under this tree? It's a nice one."
The sixth-years – and Augusta – exchanged surprised looks and responded with a jumbled chorus of assent. They moved to rearrange themselves into a line instead of the circle they'd been in before. Theodore adjusted several times awkwardly before deciding it would be better for him to be behind the couples that he had been sitting between in the circle. Poppy and Pomona came around to crouch behind Rolanda and Minerva.
After the photo was taken, Minerva thanked Michael for the thoughtful suggestion. She thought that would be the end of the interaction, but Pomona called after her fellow Hufflepuff, "Hey, Michael!" Michael turned to look at her with a smile so openly friendly and lacking in shyness that Minerva was briefly taken aback. She glanced over at Pomona, briefly wondering what the Hufflepuff girl had done to her little brother. Pomona asked, "Since you're here, do you think you'd mind taking just one more?" She reached out towards Minerva and Rolanda.
Understanding, Minerva smiled at her friend and turned back to her brother, "Yes, could you take one of just the four of us?"
Michael agreed, and the four girls got together under the tree. After that photo was taken, Minerva insisted on giving her brother a hug, much to his embarrassment. He quickly went on his way after that. Minerva smirked fondly after him.
While Minerva, Rolanda, Poppy, and Pomona had been taking the photo, Theodore started up a rock skipping competition with Richard that Donnie and Oliver were starting to get in on. The four boys stood on the edge of the lake egging each other on. Minerva smiled as Oliver responded to Theodore's taunting with a mock-arrogant response and took up a smooth stone to skip. Augusta stood a few feet behind Donnie. She laughed as Donnie threw her a roguish grin over his shoulder as he palmed a stone.
Minerva was glad that Michael had captured this day. It was a good day.
Turning to Rolanda, she said quietly, "I think we should give Theodore some time with his friends without us hanging around, don't you think? And Poppy and Pomona were ready to move on at least half an hour ago."
Rolanda snorted and looked around Minerva at their other two friends, who smiled sheepishly. The Slytherin nodded and asked, "Where to now?"
Pomona glanced over at Poppy, then back to the other two. Looking hopeful, she suggested, "Back to the library?"
Minerva forced a smile on her face as she agreed. She still thought their search for clues about Crowley was futile, but it helped Pomona feel better, and so for that reason alone it was worth her time. Minerva and Rolanda said goodbye to their boyfriends before the four of them took their leave of their group, waving to everyone else as they went.
They split up in the library this time, instead of taking Poppy's lead. Minerva decided to look among her trusty Transfiguration tomes for any spells on how to turn a living being into stone that still resembled that being's normal coloring. It felt like a weak lead, and surely one that Dumbledore would have explored, but it was something. Regardless, she was sure to find interesting things in those books.
That, of course, was how Minerva found herself sitting on the floor among the Transfiguration shelves engrossed in a case study written by a wizard who studied creative implementations of so-called "Medusa Spells." His main focus was attempting to create the effect talked about in the myths, of Medusa's gaze turning people to stone. He was never able to accomplish this perfectly, but he came very close at short range and with physical contact. He nearly blinded himself permanently during his experiments – he actually did temporarily – and still continued on with his research despite the recommendations of the Healers in charge of his recovery. Minerva thought this was both admirable and stupid.
Minerva looked up from the book to stretch the stiffness out of her neck and experienced the familiar out-of-body experience that came from emerging from a riveting text. She often became so engrossed in what she was reading that she forgot where she was. She had to take a moment to remember why she was sitting on the floor of the library. When she did, she glanced at her watch and grimaced to find that an hour had already passed. Sighing, Minerva stood, tucking the book under her arm and going off to find her friends.
She was unsure where Pomona and Rolanda went, but she had an idea that she could find Poppy at least near the Healing section. When she found Poppy in a state similar to the one Minerva had just been, seated on the floor with a book in her lap, Minerva grinned; she was just one row over from the row they'd checked together on their last library search. Poppy didn't notice Minerva, and Minerva took the opportunity to skim the titles of the books around her. They were all about – "Poppy!"
Poppy jumped and shut the book she had been reading quickly, pushing it to the floor next to her on the side opposite from Minerva. Her face was bright red as she stared up at Minerva, opening and closing her mouth unattractively.
Putting her hands on her hips, Minerva marched over and attempted to grab Poppy's book. Poppy whined and tried to keep it from her, but a quick Summoning Charm later and Minerva found herself holding a book titled Magic and Attraction. Poppy looked determinedly down into her lap as the Gryffindor flipped through the text. Eventually, Minerva remarked drily, "Well, at least this doesn't seem as bad as some of these other ones." She glanced around at the titles, "I'm surprised they're not in the Restricted Section."
"If you took Healing you wouldn't be. Education on safe sex is important," Poppy replied, still red in the face. "I was just – I wanted – I don't – I wasn't –" Her face was practically purple now.
"You were looking for advice on how to attract Nathan," Minerva supplied, smiling in amusement at her friend's discomfort.
Poppy whispered an embarrassed affirmative.
"You're such a Ravenclaw, Poppy. You could just ask us, you know."
"Ask us what?" Pomona's voice inquired as the Hufflepuff came around the corner, with Rolanda in tow. Poppy groaned and rested her head against her knees. Pomona looked concerned to find Poppy in such a state. Rolanda's eyebrows shot up and she looked to Minerva for an explanation.
"She fancies Nathan and was looking for tips on what to do about it," Minerva explained. She sat on the floor next to Poppy and put an arm around the embarrassed Ravenclaw.
"In a book? Oh Poppy, you're Ravenclawing all over this," Rolanda laughed. Pomona smacked her on the arm. "Hey! It's true." She came around Poppy's other side and sat next to her as well. Pomona lowered herself onto the floor across from Poppy. Rolanda continued, "You don't need magic to help you. He fancies you as you are. Just talk to him."
"I have," Poppy sighed, tilting her head back and banging it against a bookshelf. "He at least talks to me now, but that's it. I'm starting to feel like he's realized that I'm only good friend material. I was…well, I was hoping for some ideas about how to make myself seem more like a girlfriend."
Minerva flipped through the book curiously. Poppy looked over her shoulder at it, her face only a little pink now. As Minerva flipped, she interjected in a hurried, high-pitched voice, "And I haven't just been searching for myself this whole time! There's quite a variety of information in there about how magic can be woven into not just things like cosmetics or love potions or things involving lust, but also real love and real attraction. See, look! Look at this," she put her hand on a page before Minerva could flip away. Minerva passed her the book so Pomona and Rolanda could get a better look at the page. They all leaned in as Poppy elaborated, rambling slightly in her nervousness, "This is fascinating. I knew nothing about familiars until I read this section here. Well, first of all, I didn't even know familiars were real. I thought they were just a myth. They are real, though, but not everyone has them. The people who do have them have soul mates. Which I thought was also a myth, but here it is. Perenelle Flamel is the leading expert on this topic, actually, according to this. Somehow not all soul mates have a familiar, but everyone with a familiar has a soul mate."
"Veelas have something like that, but it's completely internal. They have the closest experience to 'love at first sight' that exists. Maman calls it compagnon de vie; you simply know when you see that person that they are your person," Rolanda said.
"This isn't quite like that. Evidently Flamel has found that soul mates are only guaranteed to meet once; they have to discover their compatibility on their own," Poppy explained. She paused, glancing around at them all with a smirk curling at her lips, "You know, when I read this, I thought that Dumbledore's phoenix could be a familiar."
Minerva's eyebrows shot up as she considered this. Rolanda asked, "But is he married? I didn't think he was married."
Minerva thought back to her interactions with him, as well as things her family had said about him. She couldn't recall ever gleaning a hint that he might be married, but she also hadn't been seeking that information. Her friends looked to her, as if expecting the member of Gryffindor House to know the marital status of her Head of House. Minerva shrugged, "I'm not sure. I never thought about it."
Poppy turned back to the book and said, "Well, like I said, it's not a guarantee that he would marry his soul mate, even if that phoenix is a familiar."
Rolanda whistled slowly and said, "I can't imagine my parents without each other. That would be so sad, to miss out on that kind of love."
"Well, hopefully he hasn't missed out on anything, then," Pomona said. She gave Poppy a piercing, knowing look, "But you can't change the subject that easily, Poppy. I think you're reading," she snatched the book from Poppy's hands, "too much into Nathan's behavior. Just because you've gotten him more comfortable with talking to you doesn't mean he's not still too shy to pursue you romantically. Maybe he thinks he's not good enough for you?"
Poppy made a disparaging noise, snatching her book back, "Oh please, I'm perfectly average –"
"You are not!" Pomona insisted. Minerva and Poppy nodded earnestly and voiced their agreement. "And I'm tired of hearing you say things like that."
"Poppy Nadson, within the next week, I want to see you walk right up to that Nathan Pomfrey and ask him to Hogsmeade," Minerva said sternly.
"I second that. And, I'll add that if you don't, you will not like what I'll be forced to do!" Rolanda added, a decidedly sinister smile creeping onto her face.
Poppy buried her reddening face in her hands, but she couldn't help but laugh, "I hate you all."
Her friends laughed and shoved her around playfully. She looked up from her hands; her face was still pink, but she was smiling. She sighed as she looked around at them, "It's just…you know what happened with Kenny. I pined after him for nearly a year and kept trying and trying to flirt with him, but he never saw me as more than a friend. I cared so much. I built up this idea of us together in my head and…he had to let me down. And it was the most embarrassed I've ever felt. Now, I have to work with him as Prefects. You can't imagine how awkward it can be sometimes."
Poppy's three friends each placed a comforting hand on her, rubbing her soothingly. They exchanged glances. It was Pomona who finally spoke up in response. "I can't imagine how uncomfortable you must be in those situations, Poppy. This, though, is different. We know Nathan fancies you. I'm sure that hasn't changed since he's gotten to know you. If anything, I'm confident his affection has only grown stronger. He's just shy."
Poppy took a deep breath, staring down at her knees. After exhaling, she looked up and around at her friends, who were all smiling encouragingly at her. "Okay." Their faces lit up and they exchanged grins. Poppy laughed lightly, "I'll do it. I'll ask him."
Pomona leaned back against the bookshelf opposite Poppy, smiling smugly.
Wednesday, 11 November 1942
Poppy's goal to fulfill her promise to her friends is what led Minerva to hide behind a bookshelf after classes on Wednesday with Pomona and Rolanda. A few rows ahead of them, at a table adjacent to the shelves, Nathan Pomfrey sat alone with three Charms texts open around the roll of parchment he was writing upon. Peering around the shelf, Minerva, Pomona, and Rolanda watched as Poppy approached his table with her own stack of books in her arms.
As soon as Poppy opened her mouth to ask Nathan if she could join him, Rolanda hissed, "I can't hear!"
Minerva pursed her lips, assessed the likelihood of Nathan noticing them, and moved swiftly and quietly up one row. Rolanda and Pomona followed suit. They heard as Nathan welcomed Poppy to his table. Poppy flashed him a nervous smile as she sat down while he adjusted his books to make room for her. The Ravenclaws sat in silence for a few minutes while Poppy spread out her books, set up her ink bottle, and unrolled some blank parchment. Poppy's friends exchanged impatient looks at her continued silence.
Eventually, Poppy asked in a voice that sounded a little higher-pitched than usual, "Charms essay?"
Nathan looked back up at her and blinked owlishly in surprise before smiling and replying, "Yeah. I thought that a book I read this summer could help flesh out an idea I had about Dare's question on the psychology of nonverbal charmwork, so I may be going a little overboard with my references."
Poppy laughed. Her friends exchanged amused looks at how giddy she seemed. The two Ravenclaws grinned at each other for a little longer than natural before turning back to their work with slight awkwardness. A few seconds later, though, Nathan cleared his throat and asked, "What about you? What are you working on?"
"Ah, Potions. I know Slughorn's essay on Everlasting Elixirs isn't due for another week, but the concepts involved in making a self-regenerating potion are giving me trouble," Poppy replied.
Nathan grimaced sympathetically, "I've had a hard time wrapping my mind around it, too, but since I've created so much extra work for myself with this Charms essay, I really need to get it done before I can worry about Potions."
Poppy nodded and turned back to her books. Minerva noticed that Poppy's fists were clenched on the table, and her head was pointed straight down. She didn't seem to be reading anything. Minerva's heart pounded nervously on her friend's behalf.
Still looking down, Poppy commented with forced nonchalance, "I'm looking forward to any respite from N.E.W.T. courses. At this point I'll be relieved to even be able to go to Hogsmeade."
Nathan's quill stilled. He kept his head down for a few seconds. Minerva, Rolanda, and Pomona held their breaths. They watched as he slowly raised his head to look at her. His face was slightly pink, and he opened his mouth as if to say something, but shut it, losing his courage. He glanced back down.
"Do you like Hogsmeade?" Poppy asked quickly, urging Nathan to look at her again.
"Yes," Nathan replied, the color rising in his cheeks.
"I do too, especially around wintertime. The village is so beautiful when it's decorated for the holidays," Poppy sighed happily.
"It is," Nathan agreed.
The Ravenclaws stared at each other in silence again. Minerva gripped Rolanda's arm tightly, sensing the Slytherin was growing too impatient with this stalemate and fearing that she would do something stupid to intervene.
Nathan looked positively fishlike as he failed to muster enough courage to ask Poppy what he wanted to ask her. Minerva's lips twitched with amusement as she saw Poppy almost imperceptibly sigh in resignation. Poppy squared her shoulders and said, "I was wondering, actually, if you would like to go with me on the next Hogsmeade visit."
Minerva released Rolanda, and the Slytherin backed up behind the cover of the shelves and did a triumphant little jig. Pomona and Minerva were grinning, and they each put an arm around the other happily. Rolanda darted back towards the edge of the bookshelf to peek around at the Ravenclaws.
Nathan was red-faced and stammering, "Oh – I wou – er – I –" Minerva restrained Rolanda again, this time by wrapping one arm around her waist and clamping her free hand over her mouth. Nathan took a deep breath and said, "– yes. Yes, I would."
Poppy grinned stupidly at him. Minerva, Rolanda, and Pomona took cover behind their bookshelf and spun gleefully together, feeling that this victory was as much theirs as it was Poppy's.