24th February 1952
Minerva looked up from her cereal as Augusta's elbow jabbed her sharply in the ribs.
"Ow! What was that-?" but she broke off, having caught sight of Sterling trying to conceal himself behind Walter as they entered the hall.
"Oh Sterling." Augusta admonished as he sat down sheepishly.
"What are you wearing? You're Gryffindor's captain for heaven's sake!"
"It's just a scarf." He reasoned but sank down in his seat until his chin was resting on the table.
"It's a blue scarf." Minerva clarified, pointing with her spoon.
"Let him be." Walter defended apathetically from behind the mound of food he'd piled onto his plate, "Ivy wears red when Gryffindor play," he explained whilst shovelling scrambled eggs into his mouth, "sometimes we eat at Ravenclaw table…" he gave an enormous swallow, "Some of us even breakfast with Slytherin's." he waved a fork casually in Minerva's direction who covered her goblet with her hand as a chunk of kipper threatened to fly off into her pumpkin juice. "What's a blue scarf between friends?"
"Is Emelia Gates still flying lead for Ravenclaw?" Minerva asked after scowling briefly at Walter.
Sterling's head raised a few inches off of the table.
"No. She still can't fly straight after that collision with Marigold last Thursday, they had to bring in the reserve. Serves her right... She shouldn't hold the quaffle for so long so close to the hoops… anyway, Lowenstein is flying lead instead."
"Lowenstein can't tumble to save her life!" Minerva exclaimed.
"Can't catch either." Sterling remarked dryly, biting into a piece of toast.
Minerva looked over her shoulder to where the Ravenclaw team where huddled at their table and grimaced.
"Oh God, I hope Ivy has her head together." She sighed.
"I hope Slytherin have all come down with piles." Sterling grumbled.
Walter choked.
"They look perfectly healthy to me." Minerva conceded with a note of disappointment. Lucan caught her gaze as she swept the table and raised a hand in polite greeting. She smiled quickly in reply before turning back to her friends.
The tales concerning her, or Lucan, or both, had grown increasingly tall until they were practically inconceivable before they finally petered themselves out. Ainslie had graciously bowed out of trading underhanded insults in the girl's dormitory and as a result; Vera had become unusually caustic, even for her. But with Augusta back on her side Minerva hardly cared and neither, it seemed, did anyone else. However, the periphery was not necessarily a position in which Vera thrived and Minerva wondered how much longer I would take until her ego imploded.
"Come on." Augusta tugged at her elbow. "I want good seats."
"Have you had anymore animagus lessons?" Augusta asked as they trudged down the muddy path to the quidditch pitch.
"No." Minerva frowned, "Dumbledore's been busy… and I think he's worried he's going to kill me. Or at least let me kill myself."
"Is it really that dangerous?" Augusta queried sincerely.
Minerva squinted into the weak sunlight, "I don't even know what happened last time." She admitted uncomfortably, "I can't even really remember… I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I was so cold and everything just hurt…"
She hadn't spoken aloud about what had happened to anyone. In fact, if she were being honest with herself, she had tried very hard to avoid thinking about it at all. She had been frightened, terrified, when her had come back to herself on the floor of that classroom. Her sight warped and blurred like a badly tuned radio.
Colours muted.
Murky.
Muddled.
Everything had been fuzzy and grey. The sounds… the voice calling out to her; muffled, drifting in and out, as if she were struggling in the depths of the lake. Fighting to keep her head above water…
She shrugged away the ominous coil that was tightening in her belly and smiled at Augusta in what she hoped was a reassuring way.
"It must not have been all that bad though, I was only out for 3 days. Sterling has been out for longer than that."she reasoned.
"Minerva this is insanity!" she hissed, "Why on earth do you insist on doing it?"
"Why not?" she countered with a grin.
"You're mad." Augusta insisted. "Certifiable."
"Maybe," Minerva agreed with a small laugh, "It's… it's incomprehensible." she tried to explain, "Complete nonsense that somehow… somehow it makes sense… I can't explain it. When you're there you feel like you could stretch out your hand and feel the fabric of the universe run through your fingers. Like pushing past this barrier and dipping into an entire ocean of magic. You're not trying to unravel some kind of mystery anymore… you become a part of it…it's fun." She beamed.
Augusta tucked her arm under Minerva's and linked their elbows, shaking her head.
"I'm having you committed to St Mungo's. No one, ever, has said that transfiguration is fun. Interesting? Maybe. Difficult? Definitely. Fun? No."
"Miss Wallis, my ears are burning." A jovial voice came from close behind them.
Augusta started slightly and slipped on the frosty grass. She grabbed Minerva around the waist to keep from falling.
"I'm sure that it is just the cold air, sir." Minerva covered quickly and untangled herself from Augusta, "It tends to have that effect." She winked surreptitiously and rubbed her gloved hands together as if to emphasise her point.
"Mmm." Augusta agreed fervently and straightened up. Startled pink patches blooming on her cheeks. "Frostbite can induce a burning sensation in one's extremities; usually the fingers or nose… even the ears-" she rambled off until Minerva pressed on her toes with the heel of her boot.
"Ouch!" she objected out of the corner of her mouth.
"Do you want to go find seats, Augusta?" Minerva suggested pointedly but Augusta did not need coercing.
"Gladly." She muttered, her ears flaming, and hurried off.
"I'll have to invest in a pair of earmuffs." Dumbledore smiled after Augusta had disappeared up into the stands.
Minerva stuffed her hands into the pockets of her cloak.
"I don't suppose you've had much of an opportunity to consider re-continuing our lessons? She asked quietly.
Dumbledore sighed gently and looked back at the growing crowd coming down from the castle. He motioned for her to walk with him.
"We are blocking the path," he explained, "In all honesty Minerva I haven't had much more than a moment to think on it… Am I right in assuming it would be a foolish of me to ask that you stop?" he glanced in her direction long enough to receive a very pointed look that only confirmed his suspicions. Dumbledore let out a long breath of defeat that misted the air.
"I don't suppose that I might ask you to hold off until after the Easter holidays?" he asked sheepishly. "The demand for my time is currently at an all-time high in London."
"London?" Minerva asked with genuine interest, climbing the narrow stairs. Dumbledore followed close behind. He cleared his throat diplomatically.
"Let us just say that the Muggle Liaison Office is having rather a hard time." He offered with a hint of a smile.
Minerva paused on the landing of the staircase, pulled off the glove of her right hand and offered it to Dumbledore who looked momentarily taken aback.
"Then I have your word? That we will take up again after the Easter holidays?"
Dumbledore searched her face, suspicious of this unusual display of patience but reached out with his own nonetheless.
"You have it." He assured, shaking her hand.
"Good." She beamed and pulled her glove back on, "Don't take too long, Albus. I'm beginning to think that you're avoiding me." Her eyes glittered impishly and without another word she turned and was immediately swallowed up into the overexcited sea of roiling students.
When Dumbledore sat down beside Horace moments later, with the memory of how warm and soft her hand had been in his still fresh in his mind, he could not wholly deny that he wasn't.