The weekend before the fall term was to begin, Minerva and Albus made the trip to Caithness to visit Minerva's father at Castle Isleif, the McGonagall family home. Thorfinn McGonagall met them at the entrance and immediately wrapped his arms around his daughter, practically lifting her off her feet.
"This is a wonderful surprise! I didn't expect to see you again until after Christmas. Hello, Albus, so good to see you," he said, shaking Albus's hand.
"I'm sorry for the late notice, Da. We only just found the time to get away and thought we'd make a quick stop to see you. I hope it's not an inconvenience," Minerva said as they went into the house, Thorfinn's arm around her waist.
"Nonsense. I'm always pleased to see my girl and her handsome lad."
"Handsome lad" had been a running joke since the time of the wedding; Thorfinn was only two years older than his daughter's husband.
Thorfinn gestured to their bags. "We'll send your things to your room and have the house-elves unpack for you. Are you hungry?"
"Starving, thanks," Minerva said.
"That's the first time I've ever heard you admit to it. You must be keeping her awfully busy, Albus." Thorfinn's good humour was apparent in his grin.
"On the contrary, it's Minerva who keeps me running about," said Albus.
"Of that, I have no doubt," said Thorfinn. "You can go wash up, and I'll have the house-elves lay out some dinner for us."
"Thanks, Da, that would be lovely," said Minerva.
After they had eaten a hearty meal, Thorfinn poured three tumblers of Balvenie fourteen-year as they settled into worn leather chairs by the fire in the library.
"So, what is it you came to tell me?" Thorfinn said, a wry smile on his face.
"What do you mean?" Minerva asked.
"Come now, lass. I know you didn't come all the way up here just to pay a social call on your old da—not right before term starts, anyway. Out with it, now."
Minerva glanced at Albus, who was examining the apparently fascinating contents of his glass, trying not to smile.
"I'm expecting a baby," she said.
Thorfinn clapped his big hands together. "That's wonderful news! About ruddy time, too, I must say." He tossed a sideways glace at his son-in-law, who had got up and kissed the top of his wife's head.
"I'm so glad you're pleased," said Minerva.
"Why wouldn't I be pleased? Here I was, thinking I'd have only one grandchild to my name, and you two come with a lovely surprise like this. Congratulations, Minerva, Albus," he said, shaking Albus's hand for the second time that evening. "Your brother will be thrilled, and so will young Morrigan," he told Minerva. "She'll finally have a wee cousin to fuss over."
The three continued to talk for the next hour until Minerva could no longer keep her eyes open.
"I think we'd better get you to bed, my dear," said Albus. "You look as if you're ready to drop." He stood and took her hand. "Come, I'll take you up."
"It isn't necessary. I'll go up on my own. You two stay here and talk—I know you're aching to continue your discussion about Siegfried and the dragon's blood." She kissed him and her father and left the two men alone.
Albus and Thorfinn chatted about the dragon's blood, among other things, before there was a lull in the conversation.
Thorfinn broke the silence. "How is she, Albus?"
"Minerva? She's fine. She was a little sick in the beginning, but that seems to be past."
"That's good, but I meant, is she scared?"
"Scared?"
"Yes. Of the birth."
Albus found it an odd question, but he answered with a straight face. "I don't really know. You know Minerva. If she is, she hasn't said."
"Mmm." Thorfinn swirled the remainder of his whisky in his glass and swallowed it down.
"I imagine she's nervous about it—I would imagine every woman is," Albus said, wondering where Thorfinn was headed with this discussion.
"Indeed. But not every woman has as much cause."
A prickling of alarm rose in Albus's chest.
"What do you mean?"
"She hasn't told you about her mother?"
The anxiety tightened around Albus's heart. "Only that she died shortly after Einar was born. What else is there?"
"Albus, Minerva's mother died from a complication of childbirth," said Thorfinn, looking intently at his son-in-law.
"Yes, an infection, I thought. Sadly, not uncommon in those days, but treatable now. Please forgive me, Thorfinn. I hadn't considered how the news of Minerva's pregnancy might bring back—"
"No, no, it isn't that. I made my peace with Morrigan's death years ago—if ever one can make peace with such a thing. It was the way she died. She had an infection, yes, but that was only the final insult. It probably wouldn't have killed her—hell, it wouldn't have happened at all—if she hadn't ruptured her womb during the birth."
Albus was speechless for a few moments. When he found his tongue, he asked, "Does Minerva know this?"
"Aye. I never believed in hiding things from my children. Besides, I daresay she can still remember the night of Einar's birth, even all these years later. It was difficult. The baby was in the wrong position, the midwife said. Morrigan was exhausted. She'd been labouring for nigh on two days, and finally getting near the end when it happened. This is a big house, Albus, but you could hear her in every room, I'd wager. I know Minerva heard it. She asked me afterwards why Mother was screaming so, and I couldn't tell her it was because her mother's womb had split nearly in half, could I? Not at four years old. But she asked me when she got older, and I told her the truth.
"Einar survived because he came not two minutes after it happened. I don't know how Morrigan survived even the few days she did; the midwife was quick with her wits and her wand, I suppose. She got the bleeding stopped, but Morrigan was so weak that she had no chance against the infection that set in. She never woke up. Never saw her son."
Tears ran down the large man's weathered face, although his voice had remained steady. Albus could see where Minerva had got her stoicism.
"I am so very sorry. I cannot imagine what that was like," Albus said, squeezing Thorfinn's shoulder.
"Och, it was a long time ago. Almost forty years. And I had two beautiful children to raise. I didn't do too badly, I think."
"No. They are both extraordinary people."
Thorfinn wiped his face with a tartan handkerchief.
"Minerva's never spoken about having children," he said as he folded the handkerchief and stowed it in his robe pocket. "As a girl, she never played with dolls. I always chalked that up to her having more intellectual interests, but now I wonder if the memory of her mother's death didn't have a greater effect on her than I'd realised. So that's why I'm asking you if she's scared. I think she must be."
"Thank you for telling me," Albus said. "Minerva hasn't said anything about it—not to me, at any rate. Possibly she's told Poppy, the mediwitch who will deliver the baby. I'll talk to Minerva."
"Do that, Albus."
"And you, Thorfinn? Are you scared?"
Thorfinn turned away from Albus to stare into the dying fire.
"I must admit that I'm worried for my daughter. And for you. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy—watching your wife's life drain away with her blood and nothing you can do. But I'm not going to let it get in the way of being happy for you and Minerva. You can't let fear rule you."
"No," said Albus. "You can't."
"Good man." He clapped a hand on Albus's back. "Enjoy this time. If I know Minerva, she'll have you changing the nappies and warming bottles instead of the house-elves, and you'll wonder where all your sleep went."
"I'm counting on it."
Thorfinn chuckled and put his whisky glass on the bar trolley.
"I think I'll head up. Good night, Albus."
"Good night."
When Thorfinn had gone, Albus poured himself another dram of whisky, warming his chilly hands by the hearth as he drank it.
When he got to the bedroom, Minerva was already asleep. He readied himself for bed and slipped in beside her. She stirred, and he whispered, "It's only me, my love," and kissed her cheek. She turned over and fell asleep again immediately. He lay back against the pillows, but it was a long time before he slept.