Minerva walked down the main twisting staircase in her house, wanting a word with her older brother Marshall about the ridiculous amount of money Mundugus Fletcher was charging them for black market ContreceptionCream. Mundungus was only seven or eight, but he already had quite the black market business going for him, and he was already turning out to be a ruthless bargainer.
Stepping into the kitchen, she found her mother and Marshall deep in conversation. They stopped talking abruptly as Minerva entered the room and suddenly became extremely interested in the cracked tea set Marshall was pouring tea from.
"What is it?" Minerva asked warily. "Were you talking about me?"
"Of course not," Becca, the mother of Minerva, Marshall, Claire, and Georgie, said smoothly, calmly smoothing down the front of her tight black miniskirt. "You don't do anything exciting enough to talk about," Becca said softly, giving Marshall a not-so-subtle meaningful look and stalking off, slamming the kitchen door behind her.
Marshall looked at Minerva apologetically.
"Minerva, don't be mad at her," he began, but Minerva cut him off.
"Well to her, being exciting means sleeping with four men in the same evening while high on dragon's tooth and feeding lusty vampires blood, so I suppose, well, I haven't done anything exciting," Minerva snapped, her face very white.
Marshall sighed and began to say something when the door swung open and Sophie, wearing what resembled a sparkling turquoise bikini, pranced in the room. Minerva groaned loudly.
"Hello, Marshall, Hello... Minerva," Sophie sneered, doing a little twirl in front of Marshall. "This outfit suits me better than Claire, don't you think, Marshall? She just doesn't have the chest that I have, sad, really." Sophie then proceeded to lean closer to Marshall, assumedly to demonstrate the fullness of her chest to him.
"She also doesn't have the rear that you have, Sophie," Minerva said sweetly. "Would you like another doughnut before you go onstage?" Minerva said, offering her a pastry from the tea plate in front of Marshall. "I know how much you like sweets."
"At least I have some curves, you emaciated skeleton bookworm," Sophie snarled, rearing up to full height, which, with her stilettos could be quite impressive. "And at least I can –
"Stop it." Marshall snapped firmly. He had been forced to take many classes on discipline and argument mediation in part of his training to be the next Head, and his voice could be quite impressive when he tried. Sophie and Minerva stopped, and looked meekly at him.
"Sophie, get ready for the show. You're almost late. Minerva, come take a walk with me. We need to talk."
"What... What do you want to talk about, Marshall?" Minerva asked, even though she knew exactly what was coming.
"Sit down, Minerva," Marshall said, indicating a bench next to the thicket that the McGonagall house was next to. Minerva could already hear the expectant shouts of the many wealthy, and not-sp-wealthy men who came to the Slums nightly to get a girl, see a strip show, or even more and more popular these days, to gamble. Or they came and hid in the shadows and hired a murderer to get rid of their unfaithful wife, or their horrible boss, or their ungrateful son... Minerva tried her best not to think of that side of the Slums.
Marshall sighed, laced his fingers together and looked up at the night sky.
"We're a stripping family, Minerva," he said softly. "We don't steal for most of our money, we don't hold dirty gambling games, we thankfully don't kill people for money... we send our women onstage to sort of dance a bit with no clothes on. We've been doing it ever since our family was banished here." The McGonagalls are said to be direct descendants from one of the original female Witches. The McGonagall women have a rich history of not being afraid or timid about their sexuality, including stripping.
Minerva looked down at her hands, feeling timid.
"I know," she whispered.
Marshall shook his head.
"Minerva, you really should strip. You're 22, for God's sake! Nobody else gets the jitters at being naked like you." Minerva chewed her lower lip, and didn't look up. Marshall sighed again.
"But," Marshall began heavily. "I'm not going to make you strip. We've never had to actually brutally force our women to participate in the show, and I don't intend to start. You will, however, need to at least bartend."
"What do I have to wear?" Minerva asked at once, fearing the skimpy outfits that most bartenders in her family wore.
"Claire is going to help you chose one." Marshall said, smiling at Minerva's paling face.
"Oh my God, she's going to fling me into the Bar Area practically naked," Minerva groaned, covering her face with her hands.
