Minerva was sitting in a boat in a lake, surrounded by many other identical
boats. The reflected moon broke up into a hundred pieces as a gentle wind
disturbed the smooth water. The wind grew stronger and stronger and the
boat rocked increasingly violently until.
"Minerva! Minerva!" her mother called softly as she shook her.
Minerva opened her eyes sleepily. It was one of the last Saturdays of her summer holiday. Why was her mother waking her up at the first light of dawn? She mumbled something and rolled back over.
"Come, let's go on a little trip. Just you and I," whispered her mother.
Grudgingly, she fell out of bed and dressed herself, her sleepy brain unable to grasp the significance of the event.
"Quietly now. We don't want to disturb your father," Mrs. McGonagall warned.
They left the house with scarcely a sound. Minerva had inherited her mother's feline aura, her dad often said.
Minerva's mother uncovered the car and turned on the ignition. Minerva climbed in with trepidation. She hadn't ever seen her mother drive the car, her father's baby. She looked around and saw a trunk in the back seat. Where were they going? School was about to start in two weeks and there was just not enough time for a trip that required a suitcase of that magnitude.
"Now don't worry dear, I've seen your father do this hundreds of times," her mother reassured. Somehow, that didn't come across quite as reassuring as she meant it to. Minerva clutched the seat.
With a jerk, they started backwards down the driveway. Her mother turned the steering wheel too much and ended up backing into their lawn.
"Well, that's nothing. I think we're fine from here on out," Mrs. McGonagall said cheerfully. Minerva tightened her grip.
As it turns out, her mother was not too bad of a driver when it came to going forwards, not counting the random stalling at stops and the generous allowances of the other drivers. 4 harrowing hours and one breakfast stop later, they arrived in front of a large country estate. They drove right up to the gates, which opened on their own.
They must be using an electric motor, was Minerva's first thought.
She turned her way this way and that, taking in the sights. The drive was heavily wooded, but she could catch glimpses of the rest of the manor between the trees. She saw the groundskeeper's cottage for a split second. On the other side, there was a large, colorful flower garden. She turned her head the other way and nearly shouted in surprise. For a short time, she could have sworn she saw people on brooms with short bats in their hands. She shook her head and convinced herself that she was hallucinating.
"Mother, what are we doing here?" Minerva asked.
"We're visiting your father's side of the family," her mother replied simply.
Minerva sank in her chair and absorbed that information. Throughout the whole course of her life, she had never met anyone from her father's family. She had asked once but both her parents pretended they hadn't heard her. She had imagined them to be horrible people who had estranged her father for absolutely no reason. She braced herself for the worst.
They finally pulled up to the huge house and stepped out of the car. Minerva hid behind her mother as they walked up the stairs to the front doors. The mansion was several stories high and rambled on for what seemed like miles. The front doors looked to be at least twenty feet tall, made of impressive looking oak and bedecked with strange-looking carvings. The doors swung out before them and a short, rotund old man dressed in black robes nearly ran out.
"Welcome, welcome!" he greeted excitedly, "and you must be Minerva!" He ran up to her, picked her up, and swung her in an arc.
"How good it is to finally see you," he beamed. He then remembered about Mrs. McGonagall.
"Ethel! As radiant as the day we first met, of course," he shook hands with her.
"Oh please, Mr. McGonagall," she blushed.
"Well, you two must be so tired from your drive. Please, give your keys to Ced here and he'll park your car. Follow me and we'll have a regular old feast!" he called back from inside the house.
Minerva took a second to readjust the crumpled portions of her dress. She wasn't sure quite what to think of this man, his strange clothing, and his last name. Perplexed but sure that answers lay inside this house, she hurried after her mother through the great wooden doors.
"Minerva! Minerva!" her mother called softly as she shook her.
Minerva opened her eyes sleepily. It was one of the last Saturdays of her summer holiday. Why was her mother waking her up at the first light of dawn? She mumbled something and rolled back over.
"Come, let's go on a little trip. Just you and I," whispered her mother.
Grudgingly, she fell out of bed and dressed herself, her sleepy brain unable to grasp the significance of the event.
"Quietly now. We don't want to disturb your father," Mrs. McGonagall warned.
They left the house with scarcely a sound. Minerva had inherited her mother's feline aura, her dad often said.
Minerva's mother uncovered the car and turned on the ignition. Minerva climbed in with trepidation. She hadn't ever seen her mother drive the car, her father's baby. She looked around and saw a trunk in the back seat. Where were they going? School was about to start in two weeks and there was just not enough time for a trip that required a suitcase of that magnitude.
"Now don't worry dear, I've seen your father do this hundreds of times," her mother reassured. Somehow, that didn't come across quite as reassuring as she meant it to. Minerva clutched the seat.
With a jerk, they started backwards down the driveway. Her mother turned the steering wheel too much and ended up backing into their lawn.
"Well, that's nothing. I think we're fine from here on out," Mrs. McGonagall said cheerfully. Minerva tightened her grip.
As it turns out, her mother was not too bad of a driver when it came to going forwards, not counting the random stalling at stops and the generous allowances of the other drivers. 4 harrowing hours and one breakfast stop later, they arrived in front of a large country estate. They drove right up to the gates, which opened on their own.
They must be using an electric motor, was Minerva's first thought.
She turned her way this way and that, taking in the sights. The drive was heavily wooded, but she could catch glimpses of the rest of the manor between the trees. She saw the groundskeeper's cottage for a split second. On the other side, there was a large, colorful flower garden. She turned her head the other way and nearly shouted in surprise. For a short time, she could have sworn she saw people on brooms with short bats in their hands. She shook her head and convinced herself that she was hallucinating.
"Mother, what are we doing here?" Minerva asked.
"We're visiting your father's side of the family," her mother replied simply.
Minerva sank in her chair and absorbed that information. Throughout the whole course of her life, she had never met anyone from her father's family. She had asked once but both her parents pretended they hadn't heard her. She had imagined them to be horrible people who had estranged her father for absolutely no reason. She braced herself for the worst.
They finally pulled up to the huge house and stepped out of the car. Minerva hid behind her mother as they walked up the stairs to the front doors. The mansion was several stories high and rambled on for what seemed like miles. The front doors looked to be at least twenty feet tall, made of impressive looking oak and bedecked with strange-looking carvings. The doors swung out before them and a short, rotund old man dressed in black robes nearly ran out.
"Welcome, welcome!" he greeted excitedly, "and you must be Minerva!" He ran up to her, picked her up, and swung her in an arc.
"How good it is to finally see you," he beamed. He then remembered about Mrs. McGonagall.
"Ethel! As radiant as the day we first met, of course," he shook hands with her.
"Oh please, Mr. McGonagall," she blushed.
"Well, you two must be so tired from your drive. Please, give your keys to Ced here and he'll park your car. Follow me and we'll have a regular old feast!" he called back from inside the house.
Minerva took a second to readjust the crumpled portions of her dress. She wasn't sure quite what to think of this man, his strange clothing, and his last name. Perplexed but sure that answers lay inside this house, she hurried after her mother through the great wooden doors.
