Traditions and Talk
Wednesday, 23 December 1942
More students were packed up to board the Hogwarts Express for the winter holiday than had been since before the Blitz. It had been only two days since Gryffindor third-year Gordon Wright had been petrified, and the students were still shaken. As predicted, they did not take this proof that their professors did not have the situation under control well. Hogwarts simply did not feel safe for most students anymore – particularly the Muggle-borns. Not a single Muggle-born was staying behind this holiday, whether they were going home or staying with the families of friends and significant others. Like Crowley, Gordon was a Muggle-born. It could've been a coincidence, but even if so, it was too great a coincidence to ignore. The Muggle-borns were afraid.
Minerva endured questions from students of all houses. It didn't stay quiet for long that she and Gloria were the ones who found Gordon. The Gryffindors, in particular, were relentless in their questioning. They wanted answers about what happened to one of their own. They each, individually, seemed to think that if they heard the story from her themselves, they could glean some little nugget of a clue that no one else had noticed. Minerva tried to divert them to Dumbledore, but, as she'd told him, that was easier said than done. They doubted they would get the answers they really wanted out of their professor. They seemed to think it was more likely that their fellow student would give them inside information, no matter how many times Minerva insisted she had none.
The questions left Minerva feeling exhausted, as though she'd lived a whole week in just those two days. Thankfully, Oliver was better prepared for how to handle Minerva after this attack after the last one. He made himself available for hugs and time spent just lounging together. Minerva was grateful to him for that. That's how she found herself climbing the stairs to the sixth-year boys' dormitory in Gryffindor Tower after nearly everyone had already left.
Upon reaching the right door, which was already ajar, Minerva knocked softly and pushed the door open slowly. All of Oliver's dormmates were gone, but Oliver himself was still kneeling in front of his trunk, hurriedly moving things around to, Minerva assumed, fit the last items that were on the floor beside him inside. He looked up as she entered and smiled at her. Minerva smiled back softly but quipped, "Why am I not surprised you're running late?"
Oliver snorted in response but continued packing.
She watched him for a few seconds before asking lightly, "Are you a wizard or not, Brown?"
He looked back up at her with a slightly exasperated expression, "Do you know a spell to make this easier?"
Minerva grinned broadly and drew her wand, "You're going to be furious." He raised his eyebrows. She cleared her throat dramatically and waved her wand primly, enunciating clearly, "Pack!"
Oliver's jaw dropped as the assorted clothes, books, and toiletries around him flew into his trunk, finding room of their own accord. He watched in disbelief as his trunk snapped shut easily. Minerva laughed at his expression. He groaned and rested his head against his trunk.
Minerva's laughter died down into a sigh and she leaned against the doorframe, "I'm going to miss you."
Oliver finally looked back up at her and smiled, "I'm going to miss you too." He stood and walked over to her.
She leaned into him as he reached out to wrap his arms around her. With her face pressed against his robes, she inhaled deeply. "I want you to know how much I've appreciated your support this week." She pulled away slightly so she could look him in the eyes. He smiled at her, and one of his hands came up to brush her hair out of her face. They leaned forward at the same time to kiss each other tenderly. One of Minerva's hands came up to grip the back of his head as she deepened the kiss. She moaned as he kissed her slowly and deeply. Moments like these had been the ones she cherished the most over the past two days, in particular. She was going to miss them over the holiday. When they pulled apart, Minerva's eyes drifted longingly towards his bed. Oliver chuckled and nuzzled her neck, nipping at her earlobe as he murmured, "We can't miss the train, Prefect."
"You're not supposed to be the responsible one, Brown," Minerva murmured back.
Oliver pulled away and grinned. His retort seemed to die on his lips as he met her eyes. His smile softened. As Minerva looked at him, a phrase she'd never said to a boyfriend fluttered across her brain that left her speechless. She stared at him with wonder, and he seemed to be feeling it too. Minerva opened her mouth to speak, but footsteps on the stairs broke the connection. She took a step backward and glanced down the stairs. Head Boy Henry O'Brien was jogging up them. Upon seeing the couple, he smirked and shook his head, "Alright lovebirds, it's time to get down to the train. Dumbledore's doing the final check of the list and you two are the only Gryffindors missing."
Minerva's face reddened, and she turned away from Oliver to hurry downstairs.
"I still can't believe your families are celebrating Christmas together," Richard remarked, sitting with his arm around Rolanda's shoulders in the compartment their friend group had chosen on the Hogwarts Express.
Minerva and Rolanda grimaced at each other. Amid the chaos of questions surrounding the attack on Gordon Wright, mixed with the usual news from the continent, gift wrapping, and stress from exams and final assignments leading up to the winter break, Minerva had nearly forgotten about the letter she'd received Sunday morning, the day before the attack on Gordon. Her parents had shared that the McGonagalls had invited the Robinsons to stay with them throughout the winter holiday. Rolanda had received a similar one, written in French, from her mother.
"I can't quite believe it either," Rolanda agreed. "Of course, I understand why they're doing it. It's all about Chris. Still, Chris is the very reason why the relationship between our families has become so…tense."
Minerva nodded.
"Perhaps they're trying to fix all that?" Poppy suggested.
"Not just for Chris's sake, but for yours too," Pomona added. "They know that you two have always been best friends since you were eleven, and that what happened between Mitchell and Rebecca hasn't changed that."
"Plus, they do have to work together with the Resistance, don't they?" Poppy continued.
Minerva and Rolanda exchanged a commiserating glance before Minerva grumbled, "It's still going to be awkward." Oliver put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her comfortingly.
"What are your plans for the winter holiday?" Rolanda asked, looking between Pomona and Poppy to pointedly change the subject.
With Pomona and Poppy's explanations of their holiday plans, talk in their compartment resumed to their usual topics and away from the dysfunction that was the Robinson-McGonagall dynamic. Soon, Oliver, Donnie, Richard, and Theodore had them all laughing making jokes about their professors, fellow students, and the ridiculousness of some of their final assignments. Minerva couldn't help but notice that Theodore had chosen to sit next to Pomona, somehow managing to do that and force Donnie and Augusta to sit across from each other. She watched him lean closer to Pomona's ear and say something quietly, grinning, that made Pomona laugh. It would be an odd match, Minerva thought, and one that she doubted would form without their particular circumstances. She doubted its potential for longevity; she felt as though Theodore was too…loud, too extroverted for Pomona, and she thought this not just because she felt that if Michael were older, he might actually make a good match for Pomona. Still, she wasn't sure if she should say something. Saying something might just make Pomona want to try, to see what a relationship with Theodore Brighton might be like for her.
Eventually, they arrived at the station in London – Minerva had never understood why she had to make the eight-hour journey by train when she would be Flooing back to Scotland – and had to say their goodbyes. Minerva and Rolanda hugged Poppy and Pomona, and the couples among them said goodbyes in ways they would not in front of their parents. As their friends around them started helping each other with their trunks, Oliver said to Minerva, "You should say hi to my parents."
She blinked at him in surprise but then smiled a little. Meeting his eyes, the same feeling she'd felt in his dorm earlier rose up within her. She blushed lightly. "Alright, then."
Oliver laughed, looking happy. He reached to pull his trunk down from the overhead rack, but Minerva smirked and raised her wand. With a simple nonverbal Locomotor, his trunk rose into the air, and she guided it to the floor at his feet. He snorted and shook his head, "Show-off."
"As if you won't be taking the first opportunity to do the same when we're in Hogsmeade next month," she rebuked, grinning.
"Are you planning on bringing a trunk with you to Hogsmeade?" he retorted. She shot him a sharp look.
"With jokes like that, perhaps I won't plan on bringing you!"
He gave her a look of mock-offense. She smirked at him and raised her wand again, levitating both of their trunks out of the train. They walked together as she guided their trunks to where he pointed out his parents were waiting. Minerva's stomach flipped as Oliver's parents noticed her; there was no backing out now. His mother was short and blonde, while his father was precisely Oliver's height, with the same red hair. Interestingly, to Minerva, they both wore glasses. Mr. Brown held the hand of a little redheaded boy, and Mrs. Brown had a child with curly blonde hair in her arms that wasn't yet even a year old. Minerva knew that the children were Ben and Kate, Oliver's little siblings. They smiled as Oliver and Minerva approached.
As Oliver hugged and kissed his family in greeting, Minerva set their trunks down and waited, with a little awkwardness, behind. She scanned the crowd for her own family and found her parents murmuring to each other. Halina's eyes rose and met Minerva's, as if sensing her daughter's gaze. She raised her eyebrows at her daughter. Minerva had told her parents that she was dating Oliver eventually, but she didn't like writing any details in her letters. They didn't know how close or serious Minerva and Oliver were.
Minerva held up a finger to signify, Just a moment! She turned back to Oliver's family just as Oliver turned back to her and reached out an arm. Minerva stepped forward, trying to smile as normally as possible and not betray her nervousness. Oliver introduced her with a proud tone, "This is my girlfriend, Minerva McGonagall."
"It's so nice to finally meet you, Minerva," Mrs. Brown said warmly. She extended her free hand, "I would hug you, but I don't want Kate to pull your beautiful hair!"
Minerva laughed and shook the proffered hand, slightly awkwardly as it was the left. Mr. Brown offered his own hand, smiling too. "Oliver's told us a lot about you. Prefect, Quidditch Captain, top student; you sound very impressive, the way he talks about you."
Oliver's face reddened, but maintained, "She is impressive." Minerva smiled his way proudly.
Movement out of the corner of her eye caught Minerva's attention, and she turned to see her father nearing their group with her mother trailing behind, grimacing apologetically to Minerva.
"Dad!" Minerva greeted with surprise. She turned awkwardly towards Oliver, whose face seemed to have turned redder at the sight of Minerva's father, "Ah, this is Oliver Brown, my boyfriend."
Oliver quickly stepped forward and offered his hand. William took it firmly, meeting Oliver's eyes steadily. Oliver said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."
"You as well," William returned cordially.
Halina, stepping up beside her husband and not burdened by a child as Mrs. Brown had been, offered Oliver a hug, which he accepted with a grin. Stepping out of the hug, he gestured towards his parents, "These are my parents –"
"Phillip Brown," Oliver's father interjected, offering his hand to William, and then Halina.
"Josephine," Oliver's mother said, shaking with her free, left hand.
"So, you're a Beater, lad," William remarked, sizing Oliver up.
"Yes, sir."
"Minerva told us about how the both of you coordinated her catch of the Snitch at the match against Slytherin. It sounded like a maneuver worth seeing," William said, with enough formality to properly embarrass Minerva.
"I wouldn't say we coordinated. I followed the Snitch and trusted that he would be there if I needed him," Minerva responded, smiling at Oliver.
Halina made a high-pitched noise in her throat and said, "Yes, Professor Dumbledore told us about your little stunt, young lady, and how he advised you against that particular move."
"Did he also mention that my catch of the Snitch made him eat his words?" Minerva retorted.
Josephine laughed, "Oh, goodness, Oliver mentioned you were a firecracker, my dear."
Minerva felt her face redden and she glanced over at Oliver, who seemed more embarrassed than she was.
Noticing the young couple's mutual embarrassment, Josephine continued, "Well, I wouldn't want to keep you on this crowded platform."
Halina grimaced, "It's nearly as busy as the end-of-term!"
Minerva and Oliver exchanged a knowing, dark glance that did not go unnoticed. When Minerva turned away from him and looked back towards her parents, her eyes met her mother's. Halina's face was impassive in its seriousness. Minerva tensed as she realized that even though she'd left Hogwarts, she was not done answering questions about the Chamber of Secrets.
Halina slid an arm around Minerva's shoulders that felt more like the tendril of a Devil's Snare than a loving embrace and said, "The Robinsons are waiting for us, so we should be on our way."
The two families parted ways with many "It was nice to meet you!"s and wishes for a happy Christmas exchanged. Minerva permitted Oliver to kiss her briefly on the cheek, and they parted with a tight hug.
The trio of McGonagalls walked across the platform to where Minerva could see Michael and Mason waiting with Jon and Diana. Just off to the side, together but distinctly separate, stood Rolanda with her father. Minerva and Rolanda exchanged tight, awkward smiles.
Once Minerva and her parents reached the group, William clapped his hands together and said, "Well then! Now that we're all here, let's get these bags shrunk and make our way to the Leaky Cauldron."
The group got the students' trunks shrunk and pocketed, and started to make their way through the crowd towards the exit. They had to wait in line at the gate for the Ministry employee stationed there to give them the approval to go through, in order to make the mass exodus of witches and wizards more discreet. As they waited, Minerva leaned close to Rolanda and murmured, "My mother's going to be asking a lot of questions about the Chamber."
Rolanda glanced over at Halina with just her eyes. She replied with the same quiet tone, "How much have you told them?"
Minerva grimaced, "I've tried to avoid the subject. Aunt Sylvia told them in the first place. She was one of the people Madam Jenison invited to look Crowley over. When they asked about Crowley, I told them I knew nothing."
When she seemed to hesitate, as if she had something more to say, Rolanda snorted softly and murmured, "You haven't told your parents about Wright."
Minerva shook her head.
Rolanda gave her a sort of amused grimace. Minerva laughed softly and leaned her head against her friend's shoulder.
Their group was next now. The official asked how many were in their group and then had them wait a few minutes more before allowing them through. Another official stood leaning against the other side of the pillar, pretending to read a newspaper. Minerva noticed him because she'd always been an observant and curious child, and had once observed one of the people standing in that post discreetly wave a wand. When she'd asked, her parents explained that they were Obliviators, whose jobs were to help protect the Statute of Secrecy in situations such as these when it was harder for witches and wizards to go unnoticed.
They walked together in pairs out of King's Cross. William and Halina led the way, followed closely by Michael and Mason, with Jon and Diana behind them, then Minerva and Rolanda, with Norman Robinson bringing up the rear. Minerva watched her parents with growing trepidation. They were walking close together, talking quietly with serious expressions. It could be about something else, but Minerva doubted it. She resigned herself to enduring their questions. She hoped they could just get it over with when they arrived at McGonagall Manor so she could have a pleasant remainder of her break.
The McGonagalls and the Robinsons Flooed into the Entrance Hall of McGonagall Manor. The fact that there was a fireplace in that room was a distinctly wizarding feature of the manor, allowing guests who Flooed in to enter similarly to guests who came through the front door. The fact that there were twin fireplaces, one on either side of the entry door, was a distinctly upper-class-wizarding feature of the manor. In the Entrance Hall, they returned the students' trunks to their normal sizes, and William called Tartan and Rosie to bring the trunks to the appropriate rooms. As this all happened, Minerva took in the Entrance Hall of McGonagall Manor with a smile. It was decorated for Christmas, much like the one at Hogwarts. Garlands were wrapped up the grand staircase, and Christmas trees stood like sentinels on either side.
The noise of the arrivals seemed to draw the attention of the other inhabitants of McGonagall Manor, because the door to the drawing room opened, revealing Miranda. She grinned and ran towards Minerva, who smiled back happily and opened her arms to her sister. They hugged tightly, and Minerva laughed, "I missed you, wee devil."
Miranda laughed, "I missed you too."
They parted, and Miranda moved to hug her brother and her cousin. Minerva looked back up towards the doorway to the drawing room and grinned to see her older brother Mitchell – raven-haired, tall, and broad-shouldered – standing there. He was holding Chris, who was now twenty-two months old. Just inside the doorway was Isabella, standing with her arms crossed and a small smile on her face. Mitchell looked down at his son's face and whispered something. Chris buried his face in his father's neck. Mitchell laughed and started walking towards his family.
"Come on, Chris, you remember Auntie Minerva and Auntie Rolanda," Mitchell coaxed. Chris smiled shyly at Minerva and Rolanda, clinging tightly to the front of Mitchell's robe. The girls waved at their nephew, and he waved back.
"Rolanda," a musical voice said from the direction of the doorway.
Rolanda and Minerva both looked up to find Evelien Robinson approaching them with a fond smile on her face. Rolanda smiled back at her mother and reached out to accept her embrace, greeting, "Maman!"
Minerva's eyes followed Evelien's movement as though a magnetic force compelled her to stare. Every time Minerva saw Rolanda's mother, she was taken off guard by how beautiful the Veela was in a truly otherworldly sense. She was clearly no human, for all she was humanoid. She had a smooth, heart-shaped face with big blue eyes, and long silvery-blonde hair. She was tall and thin, with delicate looking limbs. Every move she made was graceful, down to the way she brushed hairs from her face as she slipped out of her daughter's embrace. Norman Robinson, on the other hand, was an average-looking, but clean-cut, Englishman. He had dark brown hair, slightly bushy eyebrows, and a square jaw. He was taller than Evelien, and noticeably boxier. Standing next to his wife, all of the sharp angles in his features and body were more pronounced.
Halina's voice drew Minerva from her reverie. "Let's all go to the drawing room, shall we?" she suggested.
The group made their way to the room Miranda, Mitchell, Chris, and Evelien had just vacated. Isabella retreated back inside. When Minerva entered, her eyes followed Isabella's movement to one of the couches. Her eyes widened as she noticed the couple already sitting on the couch: Vincenzo and Bianca Borzellieri, Isabella's parents. Her round eyes met Rolanda's, who looked similarly surprised and uncomfortable.
Nearby, on another set of couches, sat all four of Minerva's grandparents: Charles and Gliona McGonagall, and James and Amelia Chase. Minerva grinned at the sight of them, delighted to be spending Christmas with her entire family. There was a gap beside Amelia that suggested to Minerva –
"Finally!" A woman's voice from the other side of the room drew Minerva's attention. Standing over by the liquor cabinet, pouring herself a glass of whiskey, stood a witch who looked remarkably like Halina but so different all at once. She had the same red hair and hazel eyes, and almost the exact same face, but she had aged differently. Lines decorated her face in different patterns than they did on Halina's, and her body showed none of the signs of childbearing that Halina's did. She wore a festive green robe with a little more cleavage than Halina would ever have dared wear, or felt comfortable in, for that matter.
Minerva smiled at her in greeting, "Aunt Sylvia! It's so good to see you."
"It's good to see you too! I've certainly been waiting here long enough," Sylvia joked.
"The station was busier than it usually is," Halina explained.
"And we met Minerva's boyfriend," William added as he walked over to join Sylvia at the liquor cabinet.
Minerva inwardly groaned as all eyes in the room turned on her. Miranda, beside her, whined, "But I wanted to meet him!"
Sylvia raised her eyebrows at Minerva and said, "Boyfriend, you say?" She took a sip of her whiskey and watched Minerva's discomfort over her glass with sparkling, amused eyes.
Minerva's face colored, not because she was embarrassed about having a boyfriend, but because of who was now interested in that information. Sylvia was a woman with a reputation for having "loose morals," as Halina put it. Minerva couldn't help but think of where Sylvia's mind might wander regarding the particularities of her relationship with Oliver.
Clearing her throat, Minerva replied, her shoulders squared, "Yes. His name is Oliver."
"What'd you make of him, William?" Sylvia asked, rolling her head in her brother-in-law's direction and smirking as he poured his own glass of whiskey beside her.
William coughed gruffly and took a sip of his drink. Swallowing and smacking his lips, he said, "Nice enough lad."
Minerva and Rolanda's eyes met, and they both rolled their eyes.
Sylvia scoffed and shook her head, muttering into her glass with amusement, "Nice enough."
Rolanda, perhaps hoping to spare Minerva any further embarrassment, turned to her parents and asked, "Is River around?"
"He'll be along later," Norman replied.
"Apprentices don't have days off," Evelien added with a proud smile.
"We have to wait for him before we start any Christmas traditions," Miranda informed them seriously, and not without some disappointment. She gestured towards the two bare Christmas trees posted on either side of the fireplace. Minerva imagined that charms had been cast to prevent the roaring fire from catching on the branches. She was surprised, though, that there were two trees, but when she glanced over at Rolanda and saw the small, understanding smile on her face, it dawned on her as well. One was for the Robinsons to decorate.
Norman checked his pocket watch, "He should be here any minute. He said Flamel would be letting him off at about eight o'clock, and it's nearly quarter-past."
Minerva raised her eyebrows and turned to Rolanda, "Flamel? You never told me your brother's apprenticeship was with Flamel."
Rolanda rolled her eyes, "I'd heard enough about how impressive that was."
"You should be proud of your brother!" Evelien scolded. "Flamel only takes on those he thinks are worthy of his time!"
"Precisely," Rolanda murmured under her breath, her lips barely moving. Minerva only heard her because she was standing directly beside her.
At that moment, the drawing room door opened again, revealing the subject of their conversation. "Bragging about me again, Maman?" All eyes turned to River Robinson as he stepped into the room. He smiled at his mother, "You're trying to embarrass me before I even enter the room now, I see."
River, like his sisters, took more after his mother's Veela heritage than his father. He was tall, blond, and thin, with a smooth face. Hints of his father could be found in the sharpness of his features. He had just graduated from Hogwarts earlier that year.
As River hugged and kissed his parents and sister in greeting, Miranda whirled around and beamed at her parents, "Can we decorate the trees, now?"
William smiled fondly at his youngest daughter. "Yes, lassie, we can."
The house elves were summoned to bring the boxes of decorations down to the drawing room, and with the McGonagalls' decorations they also brought the Robinsons'. The trees in the Entrance Hall were decorated for their aesthetic appeal, but the tree they put up in the drawing room every year was their true tree: it was decorated with ornaments they'd accumulated over the years, such as baubles the children had painted or figures meant to mark significant life events. Some of the ornaments were older than even Charles and Gliona, having been passed down through the generations. Among the more sentimental ornaments were a set Gliona had given to Charles one Christmas early in their marriage; they were oval frames, intricately carved like wreaths and each uniquely decorated, that held moving photos of his late parents and siblings. For many years, Minerva had liked hanging the frame belonging to her namesake. She knew the little details that made Great Aunt Minerva's frame unique: the roses, representing both her favorite flower and her favorite poem, throughout; the steaming cauldron, marking her love of Potions, at the top; and the crossed swords at the bottom, representative of her talent for sword dancing. Her passion for sword dancing had inspired Minerva to learn the art, and for many years she'd taken lessons. Her interest in the lessons faded when she started at Hogwarts, although she tried to keep up with it the summer after her first year. She no longer took lessons, but she remembered the steps and would often be coaxed into dancing at family gatherings.
This was Chris's second Christmas, and the first he was spending with his entire family – except Rebecca – little did he know it. As Minerva helped decorate the McGonagall tree, she couldn't help but watch Chris, running back and forth between the McGonagalls and the Robinsons, and being picked up so he could reach the higher branches as he helped decorate. She smiled as she watched Mitchell carry Chris to Rolanda, whispering something to him. Rolanda handed Chris a little figure of a lamb to hang on the tree, and Mitchell handed his son over to Rolanda for her to help Chris hang it. Minerva watched Mitchell smile fondly as he watched Chris, and warmth and love for all of the people involved filled her heart. Once the lamb was hung, Chris squirmed in Rolanda's arms, wanting to be let down. Rolanda complied, and Chris scurried over to the McGonagall tree again. Laughing, Mitchell turned to follow him. As he turned, his eyes rose and met Minerva's. She beamed at him, and he smiled back just as wide. He walked over and gave her a tight, one-armed hug.
"It's good to see you, Minerva," he said softly. "I've been thinking about you a lot, lately."
Minerva looked up at her brother with raised eyebrows and quirked lips, "Oh?"
Mitchell snorted at the mischievous look she was giving him, "Yes. I've been doing intensive disguise training at the Academy. You could teach some of my peers a thing or two."
Minerva laughed, delighted. "Perhaps I'll apply for a teaching position at the Academy rather than Hogwarts."
Mitchell laughed. As his laughter faded into a sigh, he looked down at her and asked quietly, seriously, "Have you ever considered being an Auror?"
Minerva blinked at him in surprise. She opened her mouth to reply, but shut it and turned away, contemplating his words. "No, I haven't."
"I've been thinking that you'd be rather good at it," he explained. "With your determination, quick wit, and skill with a wand, I think you'd be a force to be reckoned with at the Academy."
Minerva crossed her arms and replied, "But haven't you been reading my letters? I'm good at teaching."
"I don't doubt it. But who knows when you'll be able to teach Transfiguration at Hogwarts? It might not be for some years, as long as Dumbledore's around. You've got to have a plan until then."
Minerva said nothing. Tension settled in her stomach as the truth of his words hit her. She had thought about this, of course, but only abstractly. She had vague ideas of doing Transfiguration research, perhaps while working for Transfiguration Today, but she'd done nothing towards looking into that sort of job. All of her post-graduation-plans energy had been directed towards learning about education.
Perhaps sensing her anxiety, Mitchell squeezed her shoulders again and said, "It's just something to think about. I know you'll be great at whatever you set your mind to."
She gave him a tight smile, and they separated to rejoin their family. Isabella was holding Chris, helping him place a silver bauble on the tree. As they neared, Minerva realized Isabella was speaking softly to Chris in Italian. Isabella looked up as Minerva and Mitchell approached, and smiled.
"Ciao, Zia Minerva!" Isabella greeted, giving a small wave from Chris's level.
"Ciao, Zia Minerva!" Chris repeated, waving. Minerva grinned and waved back.
"So, the bilingual efforts are going well?" Minerva asked Mitchell.
Mitchell grinned, "Very well. He knows more Italian than I do."
Isabella gave him a pointed look, raising her eyebrows at him. "Perché il tuo italiano é buonissimo, Mitchell?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Mitchell grimaced and turned to Minerva, "She's reminding me that my Italian isn't a good measure to go by."
Minerva laughed, "So…," she hesitated, looking between Isabella and Mitchell, "still no…cross-contaminating of the languages?"
Isabella laughed softly. Minerva blushed, "I don't know how serious it is! I'm sure Chris can understand more than he can say."
Chuckling, Mitchell confirmed, "Yes, we're each only speaking one language around him still."
"How much longer are you going to keep that up?" Minerva asked.
"Not much longer. Once he's two, we're going to start talking to each other in the same language in front of him, but we'll still only address him in the language he should associate us with, and we'll make sure he addresses us in kind," Mitchell replied.
Minerva nodded and then remarked in Scottish Gaelic, "I still think you should have taught him Gaelic."
Mitchell snorted and glanced around. Minerva smirked, knowing he was making sure Charles or Gliona weren't within earshot, "My Gaelic isn't strong enough to teach. I can understand it, but I can't formulate sentences quick enough. I'm sure five minutes from now I'll have thought of a way I could've said that in Gaelic."
Minerva laughed and patted her brother on the back, "So much for being a Ravenclaw."
He scowled at her.
Chris said something to Isabella in Italian, and she let him down. Chris called, "Mémé!"
Evelien turned in response to the nickname she'd taught Chris to call her, the French word for grandma. She smiled as he bounded over to her. Her smiling face soon gave in to a look of shock as he leapt towards her – and soared into the air. Her gasp drew the attention of everyone in the room, who let out mingled murmurs and cries of shock as they saw Chris flying through the air. Both Mitchell and Isabella took a step towards Chris protectively, but Evelien reached out and snatched him out of the air, bringing him close to her chest. For a moment, the only sound in the room came from the crackling fire in the fireplace as everyone exchanged stunned looks. Jon was the first to laugh, and soon, everyone was laughing, out of a mixture of nervousness, relief, and amusement.
"Was that his first display of accidental magic?" Halina asked Mitchell and Isabella.
Grinning at each other, they both nodded, confirming with each other that they hadn't forgotten to tell the other something they'd seen already. Mitchell turned to his mother and proudly confirmed, "Yes, that was."
Evelien, who had walked over to ask the same question, looked absolutely delighted. "So, Chris did give us a Christmas present!"
Michael walked up to them holding his camera. He'd been taking photos of the gathering since they started decorating the trees. He cleared his throat and asked, "Excuse me, Mrs. Robinson, but would you like me to take a picture of you and Chris? To mark his first accidental magic?"
Evelien beamed at him and consented. Holding Chris, she walked back over to the Robinson tree to pose with her grandson. Minerva glanced at her brother and saw him smiling proudly at his son. He glanced over at Isabella, and Minerva followed his gaze. Isabella was not smiling as Mitchell was; in fact, Minerva might say that Isabella looked a little sad. Mitchell noticed too, and touched her arm, murmuring, "Are you alright?"
Isabella glanced over at Mitchell, looking as though she had just been pulled from deep thought. She spoke quietly in response, so as to not be heard by Chris, "Hmm? Yes, of course. I am proud."
Mitchell gave her a skeptical look. Minerva averted her eyes, suddenly feeling as though she were intruding. "Are you sure? You can tell me if you're not, you know. I know the Robinsons being here –"
"It's not that," Isabella murmured quickly. "Can we talk about this later?"
Minerva noticed that the McGonagall tree was filled with ornaments by now, and so Gliona, Amelia, Halina, and Miranda had moved on to decorating it with tinsel. She used helping them as an excuse to extricate herself from Mitchell and Isabella's conversation, although she had never participated in this part of the decorating before. Minerva helped Gliona drape ribbons of the MacVanish Clan tartan down the tree using levitation charms. In her peripheral vision, she noticed Michael taking a photo of them, and once she heard the click, she turned to him and remarked, "You know, you should be in these pictures too."
Michael flushed. Minerva grinned and reached for his camera. He did not hand it over, and so she raised her eyebrows intimidatingly at him. Michael sighed and gave her his camera. Minerva smiled and directed him over to where William was sitting with Charles and James. She called Mitchell over, who brought Chris with him. As the group settled, Minerva commented, "That's four generations on that couch." The men grinned, and Minerva snapped a photo.
Gliona, Amelia, Halina, and Miranda finished with the tree, and William and Jon took that as their cue. They moved the last box that hadn't been opened to the tree and sat on the floor together to open it. Michael and Mason joined them, and together the four of them assembled the train track that had been put under the McGonagall Christmas tree for decades.
Minerva took a seat in an armchair to watch them, and found her eyes wandering to everyone else in the room as well. The four Robinsons were seated on chairs and a couch near their tree, getting caught up. Minerva smiled to see Rolanda laughing with her family. Halina and Sylvia were sitting next to each other, smiling as they talked, and Minerva was glad to see them getting along. After scanning the room a few more times, Minerva realized that Mitchell, Isabella, and Chris were missing, but closer to Minerva, Vincenzo and Bianca Borzellieri were sitting talking to each other in Italian. She felt bad for them, a little, knowing that they were so far away from the rest of their family, and that instead of being with their other children in Italy, they were among people who felt varying degrees of discomfort around them because of their daughter's history with both of their families.
Minerva leaned over and said, "Do you know where Mitchell and Isabella went?"
Bianca and Vincenzo turned to her, looking slightly surprised at being addressed. Bianca smiled and replied in an accent thicker than her daughter's, "They are putting Chris to sleep."
Minerva checked her watch and noticed that it was just before eight o'clock. They should be having dinner soon, but she supposed it was late for a baby.
Slightly awkward silence fell between them until Minerva asked, "Did you not want a tree?"
"Ah no, we do not decorate trees for Christmas," Bianca replied.
Minerva blinked in surprise, "Oh really? Do you not have a Father Christmas?"
"We do, Babbo Natale, but Christmas is not," Vincenzo paused, trying to think of the words in English, "a big event? I suppose. Epiphany for us is more like your Christmas."
"Really?" Minerva asked, intrigued.
"Yes, an old witch we call La Befana comes and brings children gifts. The Muggles celebrate her too," Bianca explained.
As Minerva continued to ask questions about Italian traditions, genuinely fascinated, upstairs Mitchell and Isabella were putting Chris down for bed after having fed him his dinner. An unspoken tension hung between them as they each read him a story in their native language, and then as they coaxed him to sleep. Mitchell was concerned about what Isabella had not wanted to discuss around their family, while Isabella was dreading telling him what she'd been wanting to tell him for months, but hadn't the courage to.
Finally, Chris fell asleep, and Mitchell and Isabella snuck out of his room with some expertly cast silencing charms. Once the door was shut, they cast the usual charms that would allow them to know if he woke up, but for him to not be disturbed by anything that happened in the hallway.
Isabella gave Mitchell a knowing, anxious half-smile and started walking towards their room. Mitchell followed silently. As soon as their door shut behind them, Isabella sighed and ran a hand through her hair nervously. Mitchell frowned at her back, concerned.
He followed her to the bed, and they sat on the edge together. She stared down at her lap. Mitchell took her hand and said, "Isabella…whatever is bothering you, you can tell me."
Isabella smiled thinly and said, "I do not think you can imagine what I am going to say, Mitchell."
Mitchell frowned, but squeezed her hand. He decided to simply wait until she was ready to say whatever she needed to say.
"You may be angry with me."
Mitchell said nothing, although paranoia about what she may be struggling to say started flying through his head. The worst case – she was leaving him – occurred to him, but he did his best to squash it. His rapidly beating heart betrayed his lack of success.
Isabella took a deep breath, and finally said, "I have been visiting Rebecca in Azkaban."
Mitchell blinked and looked over at her sharply. Her eyes were closed, her jaw set. All he felt was shock as he stared at her. "What?"
Isabella grimaced, her eyes still close, "I knew you would be angry."
Mitchell gaped at her, closing and opening his mouth like a fish. "I…I," he floundered for a way to express himself, utterly baffled. Finally, he simply managed, "Why?"
Isabella did not answer immediately. She breathed in deeply, and let it out slowly. Then, she turned to finally look at him, "Because the day Chris was born, I saw how much he meant to her. Because I love Chris. Because I know how wonderful a child he is, and how…," she pursed her lips, but continued firmly, looking him directly in the eye, "how she deserves to know her son."
"Deserves?" Mitchell asked, stunned. "We put her on trial because she deserves to be in Azkaban."
"Maybe she does. Maybe –"
"Maybe? Isabella, she tried to kill you!"
"And I wanted to kill her!" Isabella shouted. They were standing now, with their voices raised. Mitchell took a step back, alarmed at her proclamation. Isabella's chest heaved, surprised even at herself for admitting such a dark thought. She took a deep breath and said, her voice calmer now, "I was not going to act on it. But I hated her. I hated her for her convenient pregnancy. I hated her for the wedding. I hoped that you would go back to her and…and realize that she was not the one for you. That I was. I know now, you did. But everything with her happened so fast. I…I wanted her dead. I was happy to send her to Azkaban. But…so many months removed, wonderful months of just you and me…when I saw her at St. Mungo's after all that time…I pitied her."
Mitchell sat down heavily on the bed and rubbed his face tiredly. Isabella sat down tentatively next to him and reached out to touch his thigh. After a few seconds, he placed his hand over hers. Isabella relaxed a little and murmured, "She is…a friend, now."
Mitchell scoffed, but not unkindly. It was more of a sound of disbelief. He shook his head, grimacing, and started laughing. Isabella smiled nervously at him, unsure if this was a good sign. Eventually he straightened up, sighed, and asked, "Why are you telling me this now?"
"Watching Chris with her family…I felt sad for her. Did you know they do not visit her?"
"I didn't," he replied quietly. He eyed Isabella contemplatively. "It's…kind of you, to visit."
Isabella gave him a small smile, "Thank you."
He laughed softly and put his arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him. She felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders; keeping this secret from him had been hard on her for the past couple of months.
"I want to visit her tomorrow," Isabella said quietly. Mitchell pulled away to stare at her again. Isabella laughed, "Well, if Michael can have the photos that he took today developed that fast. I want to show her Chris's first accidental magic. I want her to see him with her family." She paused and pursed her lips, "I want her family to visit her, too, but I do not think I have the power to convince them. They barely look at me."
Mitchell sighed and gave her a sympathetic smile, "It was an uphill battle getting them to look at me again. I'm trying so hard to make them feel like I'm not the enemy."
"It will be harder to convince them that I am not," Isabella said quietly.
Mitchell squeezed her shoulders. They sat next to each other in silence for several minutes, leaning on each other, while Isabella reveled in the relief of telling him her secret, and Mitchell's mind turned over the absurd reality of his girlfriend being the only regular visitor to the mother of his child in prison.
Soft laughter from Mitchell pulled Isabella from her peaceful trance. "Hmm?" she murmured questioningly.
"I can't get past the image of you and Rebecca being anything close to friends," he laughed.
Isabella smirked lightly in amusement, "Sometimes it is a little hard to believe for me, too."
"I think I need to see it to believe it," he replied, grinning. "What do you even talk about?"
Isabella shrugged, "Chris, mostly. That is how it started. Now, we also talk about her family, the war…and sometimes, our lives before we met each other."
Mitchell shook his head in disbelief, "And you don't argue? You're not…I hate to sound conceited, but, jealous of each other?"
Isabella laughed out loud, "Mitchell McGonagall, you know, it is not always about you."
Mitchell flushed red.
As Isabella's laughter died down, she allowed, "We avoid talking about you. We do not discuss the details of our experiences with you."
"The truth comes out!" Mitchell gloated jokingly.
Isabella shouldered him playfully, making Mitchell laugh. "I will admit…," Isabella started hesitantly, now staring down at her knees again, "I still feel some jealousy."
"Isabella, I assure you, you have nothing to worry about."
Isabella looked up at him and gave him a sad smile, "But I do."
Mitchell opened his mouth to respond, but evidently thought better of it, because he shut his mouth after eyeing her for a few seconds. Instead, he squeezed her hand and waited for her to continue.
"It is not even that Chris is hers, because I feel Chris is mine just as much as he is hers. It…," she flushed slightly, but looked into his eye with determination, "I do not understand how you were intimate with her, but have avoided making love to me."
Mitchell's face colored, and he opened his mouth in surprise. He floundered for a moment, his face growing redder every second. Isabella might have found it amusing if it wasn't over her deepest insecurity.
"Isabella…I…," Mitchell rubbed his face. "I just…I'm afraid."
"Afraid?" she repeated, perplexed.
"Yes," he said firmly, looking surer. "I'm afraid of…jinxing us. I know the consequences of following my desire. I'm afraid of…of putting too many expectations on you."
Isabella turned to face him and took both of his hands in hers, "There were consequences because she used a fertility potion. And…I am sorry if…if my inexperience makes you uncomfortable –"
"No! Isabella –"
"Let me finish!" she interjected firmly. Mitchell shut his mouth. "I want you to know…that I am ready. I want…," she flushed lightly, "I want you."
As Mitchell searched her earnest expression, his shoulders relaxed. He smiled tenderly at her and said, "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel inadequate or feel bad for your lack of experience."
Isabella leaned forward, offering her forehead to him. He kissed it softly, once, and then again. Isabella smiled and pulled away to look at him. He bumped her nose with his, and she kissed him gently. As the seconds ticked by, Isabella raised her hand to his face, sliding it along his cheek and behind his neck. Mitchell's arm that had been around her shoulders slid around her waist, pulling her close.
Before the kiss could go too far, Mitchell regretfully pulled away, murmuring, "They're expecting us in the dining room." Isabella groaned. Mitchell smiled, and added, a playful lilt to his voice, "Perhaps we can continue exploring your proposition after dinner, Signorina Borzellieri."
Isabella giggled and stood, offering him her hand. He took it, and they made their way down to dinner together.
Dinner lasted for hours as the guests ate more than their fill and drank perhaps more than they should. Their conversations grew louder as the wine bottles grew emptier. Halina, Minerva noticed, paced herself well and did not seem to be in bad shape at all. Minerva could not help but recall that her mother still hadn't asked about the Chamber of Secrets. She dreaded the after-dinner discussion she'd likely be pulled into.
Sure enough, once guests started rising from the table and Minerva tried to make her escape with Rolanda, Halina called her back, standing herself. Rolanda gave her a sympathetic look as Minerva steeled herself and turned back to face her mother. Minerva followed obediently as Halina led her out of the dining room, through the halls, and into the library. Halina attempted small talk on their way, asking Minerva how she was enjoying the evening, but Minerva, too hung up on the conversation they would surely have when they reached their destination, did not give many conversational answers.
Halina surprised Minerva, though, when the first question out of her mouth once the library door was shut behind them was: "Are you alright?"
Minerva blinked in surprise, taken aback. "Yes…I'm fine. Why?"
Halina put her hands on her hips and replied, "You seem more subdued than you normally are."
"I didn't think I was subdued," Minerva returned, feeling slightly offended.
"Well, perhaps not for the whole night, but certainly for our walk here. It was like trying to have a conversation with a centaur."
Minerva pursed her lips, "I was anticipating what you wanted to say to me."
"And what did you think I wanted to say to you?"
Minerva crossed her arms, pausing to consider her mother. Not only was Halina a mother, but she was a Ravenclaw. Since Minerva was a child, she'd always believed that this combination made her mother almost Slytherin in her wisdom. She always seemed to know what her children were going to say or do before they did it. As she grew older, Minerva realized this perception was created by giving the illusion that she was all-knowing, so they would confess. Even though Minerva was seventeen years old, Halina was still using this trick.
Instead of falling prey to Halina's trap, Minerva sat down on one of the library's many armchairs, and said, "I'm not playing this game, Mum. What did you bring me here to talk about?"
The smirk on Halina's face faltered, and for a moment Minerva thought her mother might be a little hurt. Minerva had the good grace to feel guilty about the fact that there were things in her life that she did not want to discuss with her mother. "I'm sorry for being short, I just…" Minerva paused. I just am tired of talking about the Chamber. I just am afraid of your judgement about my relationship with Oliver. She wasn't sure how to finish that statement.
Halina sighed and sat down in the chair across from Minerva's. She reached over and squeezed Minerva's hand. "It's alright. You're an adult now. If you want me to be more direct, I'll be more direct. I won't try to make you tell me anything you don't want to tell me." She paused, and then added, "Just remember that you can tell me anything, Minerva."
Minerva nodded.
"Alright then," Halina sighed, folding her hands in her lap. "I wanted to ask you about school. Particularly…if you feel safe there."
Minerva pursed her lips and fiddled with her robes. She was uncertain of what to say. Eventually, she decided on honesty: "I don't feel safe anywhere."
Halina stared at her seriously. Minerva met her gaze confidently. Halina clarified, "I'm referring to the attack on your peer. Sylvia said Hogwarts does not know what caused it. Did you know that?"
"Yes," Minerva replied simply.
"So, this is common knowledge at Hogwarts?"
"Among the Prefects, yes."
"I see."
Minerva thought about telling her about Gordon Wright, but was afraid that as soon as Halina heard that Minerva discovered him on her Prefect rounds, she would raise a storm about students being put in danger just because they were chosen to be Prefects. The more Minerva thought about that scenario, the surer she became that Halina would not take that particular detail well. She decided to avoid letting Halina know as long as she possibly could – hopefully, until Minerva was no longer a student.
Instead, Minerva offered what information she was willing to share, "There was another attack. On a Gryffindor third-year. He is also a Muggle-born."
Halina inhaled sharply, and exhaled slowly, closing her eyes. She rubbed her forehead as she contemplated what Minerva had just told her. Minerva grew worried when Halina started shaking her head; she grew alarmed when she noticed Halina's eyes reddening. "Mum?"
Halina attempted to smile reassuringly, but it came out more like a grimace. She said simply, "I don't know what to do."
Minerva felt sympathy for her mother. That had been Minerva's general anxiety since Crowley had been found back on Halloween.
"You need to learn," Halina sighed. "And because of the war, we are not equipped to homeschool you. You are so close to finishing…I'm just afraid…what if," she released a shuddering breath, closing her eyes tightly. She finished quietly, "What if you don't get to finish?"
Minerva felt a pit in her stomach. She wasn't sure how to answer that. A typical Gryffindor response occurred to her – what if you don't come home from France one day – but it died in her throat. She knew what Halina would say. School was supposed to be safer than Grindelwald's France. There was supposed to be no safer place than Hogwarts.
Eventually, she replied quietly, "I won't leave school."
Halina rested her elbow on the back of her chair, and placed her head in her hand. "No," she said, "I doubted you would. But please," she straightened, and looked Minerva directly in the eyes, "be careful."
Minerva nodded solemnly, "Of course."
Later that night, Minerva laid awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She had a lot to think about. It had been an exceptionally long day, and her talk with her mother after dinner wasn't exactly good bedtime conversation. It was wild to Minerva that she had been at Hogwarts that morning.
That morning. She'd seen Oliver. And…Minerva blushed as she remembered what she'd been thinking. She'd almost forgotten. Almost.
Minerva rolled onto her side and huffed. She couldn't sleep. There was too much on her mind. One part of her couldn't stop thinking about the seriousness of her conversation with Halina. The other…couldn't stop thinking about Oliver. At least thinking about Oliver brought a little joy back into her heart. She laughed softly as she remembered the look on his face when she cast the spell to pack the rest of his belongings. She missed him already. During her busy day, she hadn't even had time to think about him, but now that she had too much on her mind to sleep, she dearly wished for his company.
She sat up in bed. She wanted to talk to someone and, a little embarrassingly, she wanted to talk about Oliver more than she wanted to talk about how her conversation with Halina had made her feel. Minerva swung her legs off the bed and slid her feet into the slippers she'd left next to it. Summoning her dressing gown, she made her way for the door. She stopped right before turning the handle, realizing she was unsure of where she was actually going. A few possibilities popped into her mind. The easiest was Rolanda, as her best friend, but another option felt more enticing at the moment.
Trusting her gut, Minerva turned the handle and walked purposefully, quietly down the hall, hoping that her target was still awake. Once she reached the door, she knocked smartly against the it and waited. Not even a minute passed before it swung open, revealing Sylvia Chase with her red hair let down and the arm that wasn't holding the door pressed against her abdomen, holding her dressing gown in place in lieu of its belt.
"Minerva?" she greeted quietly, surprised. "Is everything alright?"
"I know it's late, I'm sorry. I was just hoping we could talk," Minerva explained.
Sylvia opened the door more fully to admit her niece. Once she shut the door behind them, she spoke at a more normal volume, tying the belt of her dressing gown as she did so, "It's alright. I was just having some tea and, well, a sobriety potion, to be honest, before going to bed." She smiled wryly at Minerva. "I'll admit I had more than a little too much to drink at dinner."
"You honor the House of Hufflepuff with your honesty," Minerva jested. Sylvia laughed.
"Come sit," she urged, directing Minerva to the set of armchairs by the window. A pot and a cup of tea sat on the table between them, and an empty potion vial rested on its side next to the teacup. "Would you like some tea? It's chamomile."
Minerva nodded and conjured herself a teacup. Sylvia grinned, "Happy to be of age, I see."
Minerva grinned too, "I'm always happy to put my Transfiguration skills to good use."
Sylvia chuckled as she poured hot water into Minerva's cup, and then dumped a spoonful of tea leaves inside and stirred. Silence fell between them as Sylvia worked, and Minerva suddenly found herself getting nervous. She took a few quiet calming breaths, evenly in an out. If Sylvia noticed, she did not acknowledge it.
Once Sylvia set the spoon down, she picked up her own cup and sipped, staring out the window at the night sky. As the silence grew, Minerva joked, "You're not going to ask me why I came?"
Sylvia's lips quirked and her eyes darted back towards Minerva, "Now Minerva, I know we're twins, but don't mistake me for my sister." Minerva laughed. "The nosy approach is her method."
"And what's yours?" Minerva asked.
Sylvia took a sip of her tea, as if giving herself a moment to consider her answer. Eventually, she said, "At least in those cases where I am the one being approached, I trust that eventually you'll say what you wanted to say. It's always worked for me in the past."
Minerva stirred her tea and took a sip, figuring it had steeped long enough. They were silent a few minutes more, drinking their tea in peace, until Minerva finally asked, "Aunt Sylvia…" Sylvia turned to look at her, "have you ever been in love?"
Sylvia betrayed no outward reaction to the question. After a few moments, she simply replied, "Yes."
"More than once?"
"Yes."
"How did you know?"
Sylvia took a minute to prepare more tea for herself. Minerva's heart pounded as she awaited her aunt's answer. Finally, she said, "Well, it's different each time. I've loved different people different ways. That doesn't mean that I loved one more than the other. It was just different. I'm grateful for all of the men that I've loved." She tipped her head consideringly, "But how I knew…I'm not sure there's a definitive way to know. I know that your mind works best in the realm of rationality, Minerva, so perhaps this topic is a little outside your comfort zone. Loving…you feel it in a variety of moments. You feel it when you laugh together, or when you miss each other. You feel it when your heart aches for him when he's in pain. You feel it in the quiet moments when nothing is happening at all, and you look over at him and just the sight of him makes you happy. You feel it when you just can't get enough of each other, if you know what I mean." Sylvia winked at that. Minerva blushed. Sylvia laughed, "I'm sorry. Don't worry, I'm far from a prude. But I'm sure your mother has told you all about that. If that sort of talk makes you uncomfortable –"
"– I wouldn't have come here if it did," Minerva said quickly. Sylvia smiled.
Silence fell between them for a moment, until Sylvia added, "Love is also when you choose to stand by someone, even when all those feelings aren't as strong as they once were. But if you don't make that choice…that doesn't mean you never loved them at all."
That piece of wisdom struck Minerva. She realized that she'd been thinking too hard about her feelings. The rational part of her mind was afraid that one day, ten years from now, if things hadn't worked out with Oliver and she found love with someone else, she would look back on her seventeen-year-old self and think her naïve for calling her feelings love. Letting go of that fear was a release, and her stomach fluttered with excitement at the possibilities ahead of her for her future with Oliver.
"I think I love him," she murmured.
Sylvia smiled and reached across the table for Minerva's hand. Minerva smiled back, blushing slightly, and took the proffered hand. "Tell me about him."
And Minerva did. As though she were talking to one of her best friends, she told Sylvia all about Oliver.