Thanks to the great people who have read and reviewed so far and this is for all of you!

Chapter Five.

Birthday Surprises.

Minerva woke feeling expectant, for some reason, and it worried her. Was Peeves planning a full scale attack on the teachers? Was it April Fool's day? Then she remembered. Birthday! It was her Birthday!

She groaned and rolled over onto her side. Birthday's were not something to celebrate - not for her, anyway. What would Rolanda do? Arrange another party in the staff room? And would she rope Poppy into it as well? Oh, today would not be fun.

She got up and swung her legs out of bed, knowing that Thistle would soon be in to bother her about getting her breakfast.

BANG!

A loud flash of red and gold fire announced the arrival of Fawkes. Minerva, who had been used to the phoenix before Letitia had come to Hogwarts, managed not to shriek out loud – but it was a close thing.

"Fawkes," she hissed. "What are you doing?!"

He trilled indignantly, and nudged an oblong parcel he was carrying towards her. Mystified, Minerva took the parcel. Fawkes was eyeing her keenly.

She opened it to find a book.

To Minerva, it read, in a familiar script;

Worlds within Worlds,

Meanings within Names;

The writing stopped there and Minerva looked at the cover of the book: Pride and Prejudice was emblazoned on the front. Mystified, Minerva opened the cover and saw, just to confuse her more, another book inside the cover.

The History of the Theorems of Transfiguration Through the Ages.

Grinning, Minerva read the note on the front.

I thought you would like both books – but you know me, Minerva, I couldn't resist setting you a little puzzle. Pride and Prejudice is one of the most prestigious books in Muggle literature and it is also an epic romance – I know there is a romantic somewhere in you.

Enjoy both the books and I am expecting a full review of them by next week.

Happy Birthday!

Albus.

Minerva smiled, taking the Transfiguration book out if it's cover and picking up Pride and Prejudice. She didn't like to think how much they both must have cost.

Dressing quickly, she went to the hall, (after feeding her very hungry cat) and sat down, hoping to avoid any birthday greetings. It was not, however, to be.

"Happy Birthday, Min!" cried Poppy, descending on Minerva to give her a hug. Minerva hugged her back.

"Thanks Poppy."

"Happy Birthday, Minerva!" cried Rolanda.

"Thanks Ro."

"Best wishes , Minerva, m'dear," boomed Slughorn.

"Thanks Horace."

"Good luck for the next year of your life, darling!" cried Professor Sinistra.

"I'll need it," said Minerva dryly. Amidst all this, sat Albus. He was smiling in a very happy way, and waiting for the crowd to subside. Every one of Minerva's birthday's were like this; she wanted no one to notice, but as she was so popular, the staff wouldn't let that happen.

Every year, Minerva struggled through whatever party had been arranged, whatever bar had been booked, whichever band had been asked to play, and was courteous to whoever was invited as well. And on every birthday, Albus would give his present to her in a peaceful moment and she would appreciate it more then most of the others, and would laugh and kiss him (where depended on the amount of wine she had consumed beforehand) and they would be very happy for the rest of the evening. With a jolt, Albus returned to the present. Where had those days gone? It must have been...it must have been when he had become engaged to Letitia; well, everyone knows that marriage changed you forever but – surely this was a little extreme?

Minerva turned to Albus, after having bravely fought off her well-wishers. "Thank-you for the books, Albus, they must have cost the earth, though."

"I would spend the earth on you, Minerva, if it was within my ability." Albus smiled charmingly. Minerva grinned back as she always had, fully and completely, not hiding her emotions from him.

"Thank-you, Albus." And Albus knew that this 'thank-you' was different from all the other thank-you's she had given the rest of the people at the table.

Letitia had not been able to face breakfast – the incident of the kittens had been so bad for her nerves, as Poppy had related, in heart-broken tones hiding the laughing inside her, to Minerva and Rolanda in the the village. The rest of the staff were hiding their delight over this in more tactful ways – for one thing, Filius was singing an old Irish shanty which Letitia had said had got on her nerves, Professor Sinistra was absently drawing the positions of moons on her napkin. Letitia had informed her that the scratching of the pen annoyed her.

Minerva, sitting next to Albus and Filius, looked down at the students happily. It was easy to forget about Letitia and Albus' wedding and imagine that it was going to be another day teaching, another day of laughing with Albus, discussing everything and everyone with Albus, doing the necessary requirements for the school with Albus – Minerva blinked. Had she really done that much with him? Never mind. Letitia wasn't around and that was enough for her. She sat back and crunched her toast.

--

Minerva threw herself onto her bed and sighed happily. Rolanda had not thrown a party, as the three of them were going down to the Leaky Cauldron that evening, Letitia was still enjoying elf-service too much to attend meals and Albus and her were as good friends as they had been 'before the Lettuce' as Rolanda so quaintly put it.

Thistle, rudely awakened by Minerva's headlong charge into her bedroom, poked her head out from the chest of drawers that she was residing in with her kittens. Giving Minerva a look of disgust, she turned to lick her offspring.

Minerva rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Oh, life was not so terrible ... but it would be after Albus was married to The Lettuce. Life would be close on not worth it if Albus got married. Minerva shoved those thoughts from her mind; her twenty-eighth birthday was going to be a good day, regardless of the over-sized vegetable living in Albus' rooms and stood up, resolutely thinning her lips and going to her wardrobe to get some nice robes out.

--

Kitted out in a pair of deepest blue robes that had been her sisters mourning clothes, Minerva sat on one of the wide shallow steps that led up to Hogwarts, waiting for Poppy and Rolanda to come.

She loved the autumn. The smells of the leaves rotting in the forest, the small animals gathering frantically for their winter hibernation, and the cold, crisp nights, with the occasional scorcher reminiscent of the hight of summer.

That particular night, it was cool and frosty. A blue mist rose over the Forbidden Forest. The lights of the Ogg the groundskeeper's hut were glowing yellow from the fire. Behind her, the school rose, tall and ancient, new and old at the same time. Minerva leant against the pillar she was sitting in front of and surveyed the scene peacefully. All of a sudden, a crack echoed over the silent grounds.

Scanning the area, alert as her feline form, she slowly stood up and raise her wand. With a sickening feeling of deja vu, she called, "If there is anyone there, come out. If you are a friend, we will not call the Ministry – if you aren't,the grounds will be swarming with Aurors in minutes."

Minerva knew it was probably only an animal, but she was not taking any chances; there were no werewolves any more in the Forest, but plenty of other things dwelt in its dark dells.

A loud rustling sounded as if the thing was coming closer. To surrender or to attack her she wasn't sure – but Minerva Jean McGonagall was not going to run!

The rustling grew louder. Minerva raised her wand and got ready to jump from any hexes that may come her way -

"There you are, Min!" Rolanda was hurrying down the steps, yellow robes flapping. The rustling stopped immediately and there was dead silence.

"What are you doing?" asked Rolanda, seeing Minerva attack stance, and stopping dead.

"Ssh, Ro!" whispered Poppy, catching up on Minerva's alarm. "What is it, Minerva?"

Minerva lowered her wand. "I heard something," she said slowly. "It sounded as if it was a human – I threatened to call the Ministry and the thing came nearer – that's why I was ready to attack."

Poppy looked at the forest apprehensively. "Let's go inside and take the Floo or a portkey. I can't think what it was, but Albus needs to know and it would help matters if we were not attacked on the way into Hogsmeade."

Reluctantly, Minerva saw the sense in this. "All right. Come on, then." They traipsed back to the castle and entered Minerva's rooms.

"Floo is on the mantelpiece." she said absently, looking around for her purse, before she spotted it lying on the sofa. "I'm ready. Let's go!"

--

The Three Broomsticks was packed. Rolanda pushed open the door and poked her head. She immediately withdrew her head, bumping into Poppy, who was behind her.

"It's Dumbledore!" she hissed, pulling her friends away from the pub and into a side-street.

"Rolanda, what...?" asked Poppy crossly, putting her hands on her hips.

"It's Dumbledore! Hurry up, hurry up!" she was jigging on her feet, trying to drag further into the shadows.

Caught by her urgency, Poppy and Rolanda obeyed and the tall, thin man passed, his beard illuminated in the light from the opposite shops.

When he had gone, Minerva turned to Rolanda. "Rolanda, what is going on? Why, of all things, are we running away from Albus Dumbledore?"

"I'll tell you later – let's go somewhere safe."

Poppy raised her eyebrows. "And The Three Broomsticks isn't safe because...?"

"He might have friends still there!" hissed Rolanda. "It isn't safe!"

Poppy sighed. "All right, let's go to Madam Puddifoots; it's new. Is that all right with you, Minerva?"

Minerva nodded. She had not been in this new shop and didn't mind,. As long as they got somewhere warm.

Madam Puddifoots was warm; it was also pink, as a disgusted Minerva and Rolanda saw. Poppy, ordering a round of butterbeer for them, led them to a secluded table and sat down.

"Now, Rolanda I want to know why we are running from our employer. Did you call Letitia 'Butterfly' to her face in front of Albus?"

"You didn't, did you?" asked Minerva, alarmed.

"Eh, it wasn't anything like that. And it wasn't Albus Dumbledore we were running from; it was Aberforth Dumbledore."

"What?!" said Poppy loudly, then, remembering where they were, lowered her voice. "Aberforth Dumbledore?"

Minerva nodded, "Yes, he has a brother – he owns the Hog's Head down at the other end of the village; but why are you scared of him, Ro?"

She grimaced. "I-er...well, I sort of offered to give Gertrude a ride on my broom."

"Who's Gertrude?" asked Poppy, and at the same time, Minerva asked;

"Why's that so terrible?"

"Gertrude is his er...his favourite goat," muttered Rolanda, ducking her head and taking a fortifying gulp of butterbeer.

"His favourite goat?" said Poppy faintly, "Rolanda, why...?"

"Why has he got goats?" asked Minerva, wondering if this was all a set-up for her birthday.

Rolanda chose to answer Minerva's question. "He's got hundreds up at his place...he keeps them in the house, in the stables, in the parlour, for crying put loud!"

"But Ro," protested Poppy, "why did you offer to take the goat for a ride?"

"Well, he told me the muggles have a form of transport called a hot-air balloon, and the first things to go up in it was a goat and cockerel and some other creature," Rolanda took a sip from her butterbeer, just to make sure it was still there. "I thought he might want Gertrude to be the first wizards goat to fly. He – well, needless to say he wasn't that – erm, pleased."

Minerva and Poppy stared at their friend in utter flabagastment – then their very similar senses of humours kicked in; first Minerva, then Poppy began to roar with laughter. Rolanda stared at them, at first inclined to be insulted, before she saw the funny side as well.
Soon all three witches were laughing like hyenas.

"Oh, Ro" gasped Minerva, as soon as she was coherent again. "You do...beat all!"

Poppy slurped her butterbeer, then choked on it as Minerva giggled; "Gertrude!" Minerva pounded her on the back, both giggling like little girls.

"So, Min, tell us about Thistle's kittens!" said Rolanda exuberantly, once the laughing fit had subsided.

"Oh, they're ever so sweet," said Minerva happily, "There's an all black one, a tortoiseshell, a tabby, a ginger, and a black and white one,"

"Oh, do they have names?"

"No," said Minerva, amused.

"Ooh, how about Thistle Junior?!" cried Rolanda, "or Little Squee!"

Minerva stared at her friend as if she had sprouted an extra head. "Little Squee?" she asked incredulously.

"Oh, but it's such a sweet name! Go on, Min, call the kitten that!" urged Poppy.

"I tell you what," smiled Minerva, "if I let you both name a kitten each will you promise to leave out Little Squee?"

As their squeal of indignation washed over Minerva, she smiled and sat back. This wasn't so bad after all; in fact, the Lettuce might have even been born...

--

Please review!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!