Many witches preferred bright colors for their robes these days, but Minerva McGonagall was a traditionalist... and besides, she had said, when Mrs. Hudson suggested a nice, new, spring frock, she was too old to change, now. No, it was black robes for her, thank you, and if she used softening charms on them, well, who was to argue with an old woman's comforts? Her knees were hurting her as she walked up the road to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, so she paused for a moment, leaning on her staff, and pretended to study a tree beside the road. The rest of the foot traffic moved on past her, and over her head, a young witch with a large bow tied on top of her head zipped past on what looked like a street sweeper's broom.

Minerva looked at a tree, chuckling to herself. The green buds of leaves were just beginning to open. Times changed; broom styles changed, she thought. She remembered Professor Xuan, the Defense Against the Dark Arts master she'd hired in her first year as Headmaster. The Vietnamese- Californian had been a challenge to hire... getting the Ministry to recognize his American TOAD (Total, Overarching Advanced Distinction) had been a hurtle, but the young man was a prodigy, and hadn't Albus always said they needed to open new, stronger international ties?

She remembered him running a hand through his short, spiky, dyed blonde hair at the end of Merka Quintaile's DADA OWL examination, in which she had answered every one of the questions correctly and exhaustively. It had been a NEWT level performance, Minerva remembered. "Miss Quintaile," the young professor had said, "it's cool that you know all the answers. Rocks my socks, dude, really. But you know... you gotta relax! Learn to surf or something! There's life outside of books!" Minerva had been pleased to attend their wedding, almost ten years later, at the sea shore.

Having regained her breath, Minerva resumed her walk, falling in with the others. Hogsmeade had swelled in recent years from a village to a small town, as more and more Wizards and Witches brought their families here. Minerva wasn't sure that was wise... was she the only one who remembered what Grindlewald had done to the Dutch wizards of Copenhagen, who had all lived in one neighborhood?

"Hullo, professor," piped a voice near her elbow, startling her out of her reverie. It was the Potter boy again. "The head sent me to make sure you got a good seat. If you'll just come this way?"

She followed him up the Gryffindor tower and settled on a bench. "It's Ravenclaw against Hufflepuff today," the Potter boy said. "My cousins Gaius and Caius are on the Ravenclaw side; they're twins!"

"Runs in your family, boy," she said, perhaps a little gruffly. How many Weasly twins had she seen over the years? At least six sets, she thought, not the least of them Eoin and Ian, when she was in school herself. She made herself comfortable. "What positions do they play?"

"Caius is a chaser," the boy said, excitedly, "and Gaius is the keeper. I'm going to be a beater, next year!"

Minerva nodded, not mentioning that she'd seen him play. "I imagine you will, if you put your mind to it." She remembered Harry as she'd first seen him on a broom, swooping down on the rememberall, pulling out of his dive inches above the ground, and she smiled.

Broomsticks, she thought. How often had she ridden hers through the worst kinds of Scottish weather, tossing a quaffle to a friend? She'd never made the house team, but she'd been enthusiastic; from her second year on, she'd been up for a pick-up game whenever she could find one. Ancelm hadn't understood that. "Look," he'd said, "I understand Dorleta spending all her time on the pitch; she wants to be a professional. But really, why do you do it? I mean," he'd coughed, and looked away, reddening slightly, "It's just not seemly, a woman riding around on a broomstick like that."

The match started, and Minerva watched with keen interest. The girls on the teams didn't seem at all concerned with how seemly their posture might be, and Minerva smiled, glad that this had changed in her lifetime. No one today would espouse such absurdity as asking witches to ride side-saddle, she thought. Heaven help them if they did.