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hp_goldenageTitle: Life Transfigured
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
abigail89
Characters/Pairings: Minerva McGonagall, Poppy Pomfrey, Irma Pince, Horace Slughorn, Molly & Arthur Weasley, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and original characters
Rating: General
Word Count: ~5300
Content/Warning(s): Arthur Weasley is close to death, but he never appears in the story.
Summary: Retirement is sometimes not easy, especially if one has held a job that they truly loved. For Minerva McGonagall, Professor and Headmistress of Hogwarts, easing into a life beyond the castle means adjusting to not being needed.
Prompt: How does the magical world care for its elderly, especially when the elderly decide they can no longer effectively live on their own. A nursing home? An "assisted living" community? etc. What is life like in retirement in the wizarding world?
A/N: Having wrangled with these issues, and continue to consider them in real life, I wanted to write this part of Minerva’s story. Many, many thanks to my dearweepingnaiad for a very helpful read-through to catch the mistakes. All remaining mistakes are mine, though.
A knock on the ancient wooden door startled Minerva McGonagall. She's wasn't expecting anyone at the late hour, on a Friday night three days after the end of the school year; everyone was supposed to be away on holiday, or quietly getting drunk, or sleeping--except for maybe some of the junior members of the Hogwarts faculty tasked with sorting through the typical end-of-year detritus. Just last night she’d gone down to the faculty break room and found four said junior faculty members having a dance-off. It had been loud, and fun, and involved excellent drinks. At this moment, she wanted to be doing anything except what she was doing, even though the task before her was important and life-changing, and truth be told, she was mostly glad to not have the wicked hangover. Wonder how Severus is doing, she thought with relish.
She waved her wand and without a word, the door turned transparent so that she could see who was coming by for a late visit. The person before her caused a smile to light her lips, and she waved her wand again to open the door and admit Hermione Granger.
“Headmistress?” she called. “It’s Hermione!”
“Of course it is, my dear,” Minerva said as she carefully hobbled her way towards the sitting room. “No one but you would be allowed in here at this late hour.”
“I’m so sorry for disturbing you,” the younger woman said as she stepped around a veritable wall of boxes.
“Think nothing of it! I am so pleased to see you,” Minerva said, giving Hermione a kiss on each cheek. “I was hoping you’d be coming this way sometime soon. I very much enjoyed reading your five-year plan for the school.”
“I hope I wasn’t too forward,” Hermione said. Her eyes conveyed worry. “It’s just that--I’ve given all these plans a great deal of thought over the last several years.”
“Of course you have,” Minerva replied. “I would expect nothing less. Though, I believe you are wise to spread the adjustments and additions to the curriculum over several years. The Governors are a soggy lot; they don’t take kindly to too much change thrown at them.”
“I know. But Harry assures me he and several other progressive members will make sure these changes will be implemented. I still need to get the idea of a wizarding university through the Ministry,” Hermione said. “It’s been rejected twice, once by my own administration. But now with a hundred wizard enrolled in Muggle unis, I think it’s time for the Ministry to enter the twenty-first century, only forty years late. Wizards need and want advanced education.”
“You don’t have to convince me. I am on your side, as I always have been,” Minerva said. ”I hope I’ll still be around to testify at its next hearing before the Wizengamot.”
“I’m sure you will. We nearly got it passed five years ago. But with the significant advancements made in the medical field in particular because of university education, I think they’ll see that its time has come.”
Minerva could see the fire in her favourite student’s eyes, and was so very proud of everything she’d accomplished. An accomplished barrister. Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Minister for Magic for the past ten years, and so very successful. She declined to stand for another term only because she felt it was time for someone else to lead the British Wizarding Community, and because she finally had the job she’d always wanted--Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
“Let us have hope for that.” Minerva looked around. “I would invite you to sit, but I’m afraid the chairs have all run back to the Room of Requirement once I gave them leave to do so. Perhaps we could sit upon some boxes? Dear me, how did I accumulate so many possessions?”
“It’s an entire lifetime, Headmistress,” Hermione replied. “Over one-hundred and twenty years.”
“I should have retired years ago. Many years ago,” she said as she slowly lowered herself onto a box that had been Transfigured into a chair. “But then, if I had, you wouldn’t have been ready to run Hogwarts.”
“I don’t know. My political detractors say I was Minister for ten years too long.”
Minerva made a derisive noise. “Utter fools and idiots, they are. You did so much good for the Wizarding world in your time. I’ll never tire of saying this: I am so very proud of you.”
Hermione bowed her head. “Thank you. I could not have been so successful without the backing of wizards like you and Harry, Euan Abercrombie, and the Weasleys, of course.”
Minerva looked at her clasped hands. “I saw him yesterday, at Phoenix House. He’s not well at all. Morag MacDougal, the new Healer, says it’s probably just a matter of weeks now.”
Hermione gasped. “Ron led me to believe he wasn’t that bad off.”
Minerva shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid Ronald doesn’t want to face the truth about his father’s condition. Just too much spell damage over the years. Plus, the attack by that horrible creature. . . .” She paused. “The poison rewrote part of Arthur’s DNA. I don’t suppose you’ve heard that new diagnosis?”
“Oh, my God, no, I haven’t,” Hermione said. She punched her thigh in frustration. “See? This is why we need Muggle training in some fields, why sometimes Muggle technology can be better than magic. I knew the genetics lab at St. Mungo’s was doing excellent work, groundbreaking work even. But here’s more proof that we need this education for our own kind.”
Minerva silently agreed. Hermione had made many advances within their world, chief among them finding money for wizards to attend Muggle universities; first in the sciences and medicine, and then in the humanities and law. Intellectual pursuit flourished under her passionate guidance and with it, many significant changes for the better. Arthur Weasley’s slow decline had baffled Healers for ages until one talented geneticist, an Oxford graduate, had found the root cause of his illness. With more wizards pursuing this kind of education, Minerva knew many more vexing problems confronting the Wizarding world could be solved.
“My dear, when you see Arthur next, you must be prepared,” Minerva said sadly. “He has declined precipitously in the past month. Molly is beside herself with grief.”
“No doubt she is,” Hermione said. “I should have been going to visit them all along. But with my dad’s health problems, and my mother’s death last year, well--”
“You have not had an easy time of it, either.” She patted Hermione’s hand.
“Yes, well.” Hermione blinked and looked around. “At least Dad is comfortable, even if he doesn’t recognize me any more.”
“I am so sorry.”
Hermione shook her head. “It’s all right. The Alzheimer’s is advanced, so it won’t be much longer. At least he’s unaware of the secondary health problems.” She sighed. “So how much more do you have to pack?”
“Not much. Everything in the parlor is for the charity shop in Hogsmeade. The boxes over there are for the Hogwarts Archives. I gave most of my books to the library and some colleagues in the Ministry. The rest of the furniture, the furniture loyal to me, unlike the chairs”--she said this in a significant tone--”will be going to rooms worthy of the pieces. Though Stephen Dalton, he’s teaching Transfiguration now, has claimed the glass-fronted bookcase for his office. He’s always liked it. You and Mr. Potter will have to go through and select items for your offices and living quarters this summer.”
“You didn’t move the Headmaster’s desk?”
“Oh, goodness, no. I knew you’d want to claim that for your own.”
Hermione blew out a puff of air. “Well, thank Merlin for that. So Harry has decided to set up rooms here? I’m surprised he’d want to leave his house at Godric’s Hollow.”
“He felt he’d need to be on site some nights, but I do believe he intends to stay in his home. It’s such a lovely place. I wouldn’t want to leave it either.”
Hermione turned to her, her eyes bright. “And now you’re leaving Hogwarts. That’s something I thought I’d never see.” Hermione reached out and took Minerva’s hand.
Minerva squeezed her hand in return. “The time has come. I am old and infirm. The Phoenix House will be quite comfortable for my final days, and it just so happen I know everyone there. It’ll be a homecoming of sorts, to be back with so many colleagues and friends.”
“I will miss your wise counsel,” Hermione said.
“My dear, it is I who will miss seeing what you will accomplish. I have no doubt Hogwarts’s best years lie ahead.”
*~*
“That’s the last of it,” Harry Potter said. He was surrounded by several trunks and five wooden crates. “Really, Minerva, you could’ve brought more with you.”
“But there was no need for anything more,” she insisted as she removed her tall black hat.
The second to last day of July was a fair one, blue sky with stripes of thin, white clouds overhead, temperature tolerable. A good day to move to one’s final home before, well--wherever. The Phoenix House for Retired Hogwarts Teachers and Friends was situated at the west end of Hogsmeade, far off the High Street, in a grove of old-growth ash and oak trees that opened onto the loch below. Even though it wasn’t a very old structure, having been built with funds from a grateful former student after the defeat of Voldemort in the Second War, the young wizard architect designed it with elements of the school castle in mind, hoping it would be a comfort to those who had dedicated their lives to the school. And it was--quirky and charming, it preserved some of the unique features such as gargoyles on the gables and a stone facade, but lacked the other not-so charming aspects: the staircases stayed firmly in place, there were no ghosts, and there was a central heating system. That last feature sealed the deal for most of its current inhabitants. Two stories high with a mechanical lift and rooms with large windows and en-suite baths, plenty of closet space and furniture that was modern and light, Minerva had fallen in love with it and her assigned south-facing rooms at first glance.
*
Ron Weasley directed two large valises up the stairs with his wand. “Don’t let them bash into the walls!” House matron Megan Jones shouted up the stairs behind him. “I swear I’ll make you repair the marks without magic.”
“Okay, Megan,” Ron shouted back. Then, he muttered, “Geez, keep your hair on. Like I don’t know how to move things around. Thinks I’m an ickle firstie.” One of the valises turned sideways and banged into the metal railing.
“I heard that, Ron!”
“No blood, no foul!” he said.
He arrived on the second floor and directed the valises into Minerva’s room. “Ta! This is really nice, Head--I mean, Minerva. Very bright. I don’t think Mum and Dad had a place on this floor.”
“I don’t imagine since the larger rooms for couples are on the first,” Minerva said. “Please put the bags over by the closet. It’ll make it easier for me to hang my things.”
“I thought Hermione was coming over to help, her and Angelina,” Harry said. He gave Minerva his hand as she lowered herself into a nearby chair.
“Miss Granger has far too much to attend to, really,” Minerva protested. “I shall do quite well on my own.” After I’ve had a nap.
She watched as Harry continued to fuss with boxes and crates, moving several to different parts of the small flat, and Ron left to get more things. “Boys, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, truly. I can do all of this myself,” she found herself saying after a while.
Harry crouched beside her chair, and gently took her hand. “Minerva, you’ve been asleep for about half an hour.”
Minerva started, then smiled. “Oh. Yes, I suppose I have. I do that a lot of late.”
“Really, we’re nearly finished,” Ron said. “Only things left are for you to unpack your clothing. We did the heavy stuff.”
She looked around and saw that all of her books and china figurines and her father’s family crystal stemware were on shelves or in a small china cabinet behind her in the small sitting room. The wooden crates were nowhere to be seen. “I see you’ve been busy,” she remarked.
“Well, we reckoned those would be safe since you and Hermione had clearly marked them,” Ron said. “The rest of the things are in the bedroom.”
“Help me up, please, so I can see,” Minerva said.
Harry and Ron took her hands. “Despite Poppy recommending I use a Levitating charm, I much prefer not doing magic on myself. I like to feel firmness on my feet.” She stood and centered herself before moving.
“I’m with you there, unless there’s a chair or a broomstick involved,” Ron confessed.
“I find I get a wee bit wobbly when I try to Levitate myself, even just a couple of inches. And my ability to Apparate has become less accurate,” Minerva said as they slowly walked. “I haven’t Apparated in years.”
She couldn’t see Harry and Ron exchange glances over her head. “It does take determination and deliberation,” Ron said. “Sometimes one of the D’s deserts me.”
“I think you will find Apparition is one of the first spells to fail you,” she said, “But you must practice it every day, Ronald. You’re much too young to give it up.”
“I usually just take the Floo or get Harry to side-along.”
“Yeah, he makes me do all the heavy Apparating,” Harry joked. “But then he cooks dinner.”
“Then you are following in your excellent mothers’ footsteps, both of you,” Minerva said, as she sat on the bed. “I have always thought Molly’s mutton stew to be equal to none. And that is saying something as my own mother was an outstanding cook.”
“It is good,” Ron said. “I think she--”
“Hello! Hello!” came a cheery greeting from the sitting room. “Minerva, are you here?”
“In here, Poppy,” Minerva called out.
Two white-haired, stooped over witches tottered in, each using an elaborate carved wooden cane. “Oh, Minerva, we’re so glad you’ve finally moved it,” Poppy Pomfrey said. “I was just telling Irma here--Oh, you have Ronald and Harry Potter with you!”
“Don’t let us stop your visit,” Harry said. “We were just getting ready to maybe help Minerva unpack her things in here.”
“Now, Harry, you have done more than enough.” Minerva patted his arm. “I do not know what I would’ve done without you and Ronald. Thank you very much.”
“Didn’t do all that much,” Ron said, “Guess I’ll go see Mum and Dad, then.”
Harry gave Minerva a hug. “I’ll come by next week to see you again. Good-bye, ladies.”
After he left, Minerva said, “Have you heard Harry will be teaching a few classes in defensive magic?”
“No, I haven’t,” Irma Pince said, “but it makes perfect sense. He’s still the Head of Magical Law Enforcement?”
“He’s not leaving Godric’s Hollow to live in the castle, is he?” Poppy asked. “His house is so beautiful.”
“He is and no, he’s not leaving his home,” Minerva answered deftly. “He’ll Apparate in with Ronald when he teaches. But I believe he is beginning to ease out of the Ministry, now that Miss Granger has left office.”
“Has he fully recovered from that nasty hex he got a few years ago?” Poppy asked. “It was a bad one.”
“I think he has. Now, please, sit with me,” Minerva said. She waved her wand and Transfigured the two trunks into comfortable sitting chairs. “It’s been far too long since we’ve had a proper chat.”
*~*
After puttering around in her rooms for the afternoon and chatting with her dear friends, Minerva took the lift down to the dining room for tea. The room was large and lavishly furnished with chandeliers and golden oak tables and chairs. At one of the tables sat Horace Slughorn with an aide. She saw his eyes lighten with recognition and he motioned to her with his hand.
Dear Horace. Still going on after two strokes. Minerva slowly made her way over to his table. The aide was feeding him soup, one spoonful at a time, and daubing his chin with a large fabric serviette. “Horace, it is so good too see you,” Minerva said. She kissed his forehead, and then took a seat beside him. A dining attendant came to her immediately with a tray of food.
“Here you are, Headmistress,” the young woman said. “I’m Carolina. I was a student six years ago. Hufflepuff.”
“Hello, my dear,” Minerva said. “Now that I am no longer your Headmistress, please call me Minerva.”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s good to see you again, and welcome to Phoenix House. I hope you’re comfortable here.”
“Yes, very. My room is very warm, and a welcome change after so many years in that draughty old castle.”
An odd guffawing came from Horace. The aide caught the food flowing from the left side of his mouth as he grimaced, or grinned. He held his wand to his neck to enhance his voice. “Try sleeping in the dungeon. Constant water dripping and puddles everywhere. Cold. So cold.”
“I’m afraid even the best of magic can’t overcome the laws of physics, Horace,” Minerva said, after taking a long, appreciative sip of hot tea. It was brewed perfectly. “I know you tried everything, as did Severus and every Slytherin House faculty member before you. We even hired a Muggle engineer who was married to a wizard, about five years after you came here. She managed to install a piece of mechanical equipment that got rid of the puddles, but the damp, I’m afraid it is forever.”
“That’s something, at least,” Horace said. He lowered his wand and the aide held up another spoonful of porridge which he gratefully accepted.
Minerva turned her attention to her meal of steak-and-kidney pie, steamed broccoli, and crusty bread. Bland, but acceptable, she thought as she tasted it.
During tea, many former colleagues came by to greet her: Pomona Sprout, Bathsheba Babbling, Filius Flitwick (who now was confined to a very small wheelchair). Those teachers who had taught with her before the war and who were still alive were here, though there were a few faces she did not recognize, family members of those teachers or friends.
Molly Weasley bustled by with a tray of empty dishes and cups; Minerva waved to her, and Molly nodded and indicated to the tray in her hands. A half-minute later, Molly returned and dropped into the chair beside her. She grasped Minerva’s hand.
“I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to welcome you earlier. The Healer was here checking Arthur’s potions.” She blew a curl out of her face. “I know Ron has told you.”
“Yes. I am so sorry, Molly,” Minerva said sadly.
She looked tired and worried. “We knew this was a possibility, that Arthur would have long-term problems with that snake bite. We just didn’t know when or how.” She picked up a serviette and blew her nose. “But we’ve had a good, long life. Seen our grandchildren be born and start their lives. Did you know Roxanne is expecting again? We’ve only just found out. That’ll be our tenth great-grandchild!”
Minerva gave Molly’s hand a squeeze; the two women watched the evening sun slip behind the ridges of the distant mountains. Horace Slughorn finished his meal and afterward, his carer wheeled him away for a bath.
*~*
The next day Minerva attacked the unpacking of her clothing and decorating of her bedroom with excitement and vigor. She directed a painting of a Scottish castle and a small tapestry made for her by a former student that depicted the Four Founders of Hogwarts to hang on the walls. Satisfied, she turned to the six valises and trunks; she opened them all with her wand and looked inside each case. Even though she’d whittled away at her closets’ contents before packing, she was amazed at how much clothing she owned. She pulled out several dresses and examined them closely. One she realized she’d had for fifty years. “I think that can go into the charity bin,” she said softly to herself, and tossed it onto the bed as well as a cape. “This can go with it.”
Abandoning her wand, Minerva pulled out each item, each book, each article of clothing from the containers, and examined them closely. Some items made her shake her head, wondering why she’d bothered to keep such a silly thing; the others she found a place for. After several hours, she emptied all of the valises, but decided not to bother with one of the trunks that contained heavy cloaks and shoes for cold weather. She directed it to a space under the window, and Transfigured a pincushion into a large, soft cushion which she laid on the trunk; then she sat on it, slowly.
Her room overlooked a garden below, one with rows and circles of blooming flowers. She recognized both of the gardeners: one, a young man from just a few years ago; the other, an older woman whose name she could not recall. The young man, Jack Pine, had extraordinary skill for Transfiguration, but who loved the serenity and solitude of the greenhouse. She smiled as she watched him carefully tend to an artfully arranged grouping of flowers. They were of a Muggle variety, planted for no other reason than beauty and enjoyment. Minerva noted that the garden was mostly flowering plants and herbs, some magical, some for cooking. Sometimes we wizards overlook the usefulness of having a garden that just brings us joy. Magical plants can oftentimes be dangerous, so most wizards avoid having gardens altogether. And sometimes we are foolish in our denial of all things Muggle. My father loved his English roses, so beautiful and delicate.
She enjoyed watching the gardeners work for a long time; when she looked away she realized she’d spent all that time just...sitting. Observing. Not thinking about students’ performances, class notes, the budget, the latest asinine policy change from one of the more bothersome member of the Governors. No, all she had to do now was to sit and enjoy life as it unfolded in all it unhurriedness and tender glory. It was a strange feeling, not to be wanted, not to be constantly hounded by parents, faculty, students, members of the public, all needing her attention right now. The last forty years had been such a challenge, what with rebuilding the heavily damaged castle, rebuilding trust with all of Wizarding Britain that Hogwarts School was indeed the best place for their children to attend, fighting with the Ministry over money, replacing and expanding the faculty, arguing with faculty, with parents...But she would not have traded any of it because running Hogwarts had been the highlight of her life. It’s what Albus Dumbledore had selected her for, trained her for; he knew she had the chops to do the job and she knew she could do the job as well. And, she did.
But now the time had come to set that job, that work, that world, that identity aside. It was the right time, with her health, her strength, her enthusiasm and her magic all failing. And, because the right person had come available to take over for her. Minerva would not have wanted it any other way.
It was time for lunch, not because there was a bell to tell her so, but because she wanted it.
The freedom to make that choice was nearly overwhelming.
*~*
“You are in quite good health, Professor,” Healer Morag MacDougal said, making a note on the parchment. “Blood pressure is low, but given your heart condition, it’s not unmanageable. Having some dizzy spells?”
Minerva wagged her head from side to side. “On occasion.”
“When you stand suddenly? Bending over?”
“Yes.”
“Have you blacked out totally?”
Minerva sighed. “Yes. A few times.”
“How about when you’re not doing anything?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
MacDougal put the quill down on the table. “Professor, if I talked to Healer Blackthorne at Hogwarts, what would he tell me?”
Minerva raised an eyebrow. “And you haven’t spoken with him?”
“I’ve received your medical file from the school, but I’d much rather hear it from you. I want to know what’s going on now.”
“I’m sure it’s all in that thick file sitting on the desk behind you,” Minerva said archly. “Why should I waste my breath with the recitation?”
MacDougal sighed again. “Yes, well, I do know. You have been passing out and have sustained some injuries. It’s all related to your heart condition and it goes back to that event some forty years ago.”
“Yes.”
Minerva still seethed thinking about that night, when she’d been attacked by Dolores Umbridge and her band of lackeys, Stunned by four of them; it had taken a while to recover from the force of the spells. My own damn fault! she thought fiercely. If only I’d had the presence of mind to strike first or put up a Deflecting Spell. If only I’d put up more of a fight over that witch taking control of the school. . . . Of course she had recovered, but the long-term effects were being felt now.
“You’ve been taking a Pepper-Up Potion when you feel especially poorly,” MacDougal said, checking her file, “but I think we need to go in a different direction. There is a Muggle medication that uses digitalis as its base. We in the wizarding world have used it for centuries to treat seizures and to help with swelling, but Muggles extract the drug through a different process and make medications in precise, higher doses that can strengthen the heart muscle and make it work more efficiently.” She wrote a prescription out. “I’m going to have this sent over from a chemist in Inverness I work with. I think you’ll find it’ll work much better for you.”
They went through several more pages of notes made by Sylvester Blackthorne and of course, Madam Pomfrey. “I think that should do it,” Morag MacDougal said, as she pocketed her stethoscope. “For your age, you are in quite good health. I hope you will enjoy living here at Phoenix House; I see no reason why you cannot participate in any and all of the activities and travels. I think there’s still space for the trip to Norway next week. The Wizarding village there is so beautiful this time of year.”
Minerva arched her eyebrow in interest. “I shall have to check into that.”
“Yes, and with the new aeroplane that was donated by an anonymous former student, you all will travel in much ease and luxury. No more Floo’ing through the Chunnel to Normandy. No more hiring the Knight Bus.” She shuddered. “No more travelling with Muggles on commercial aeroplanes, and especially no more going through Gatwick. A nightmare, that is.”
“Oh, much agreed.”
Morag helped Minerva off of the exam table. “I hope you will also take the Phoenix Van to London to go shopping. Update your wardrobe to that of a properly retired matron. And sit in the sun for at least twenty minutes a day. It will help generate vitamin D which is good for your bones.”
“Is that what you learned at that Muggle medical school?” Minerva asked.
The younger witch laughed. “Yes, indeed. That, and much, much more.”
“Good. Then my financial investment in the scholarship fund was put to good use.”
Morag held the door open for her. “It’s an entirely new day in Wizarding medicine, thanks to that scholarship fund. James Potter was the first to go to medical school; he was my advisor at the University of Edinburgh, as he has been for all wizards going there through the years. There have been so many advances made since we’ve begun interacting with Muggles in more significant ways, like medicine and engineering.”
Minerva shook Morag’s hand, then spontaneously hugged her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you around, then. And Minerva,” Morag said, “the trip to Bali in February? Not to be missed.”
*~*
“Minerrrrrrva!”
Minerva awoke with a start. She’d been sitting in a most comfortable chair in her bedroom, reading a novel--her first novel in years--in the sun shining through her window.
“Minnie! It’s us!”
The door to her flat opened and Poppy and Irma came in, each carrying a tote bag. “Oh, Minnie! It’s happy hour!” Irma cried.
They shuffled in slowly with their canes, set their bags down, and opened them. “Do you have your special glasses?”
“Of course I do,” Minerva said. She walked over to the china cabinet and took out the crystal glasses. “These are so beautiful.” She held one up to the light and watched the rays play through the cuts and swirls.
“They are,” Poppy said, as she cracked open a bottle of fine vodka. “Perfect for a Cosmopolitan.”
“Oh, I have so missed your Cosmos,” Minerva said.
“You should have been coming round all these years,” Irma said, taking two of the delicate glasses to the coffee table that served as an impromptu bar.
“I know,” Minerva said, shaking her head. “I should have done many things. I’ve missed you both, missed our lively conversations.”
“As much as my Cosmos?” Poppy asked, her eyes sparkling.
“Almost,” Minerva replied, teasing. “Of course not. I have missed you both dreadfully.”
Poppy mixed the drinks as Irma prepared a plate of cheese and fruit, while Minerva waved her wand to pull up a chair. Drinks were poured and each woman sat with a glass.
“Minerva,” Poppy asked, breaking the silence, “why did it take so long for you to leave your position?”
Minerva shrugged. “Because Hogwarts needed me,” she said simply. “I couldn’t leave until I felt I could leave. When Miss Granger contacted me to say she was not standing for another term as Minister for Magic, I immediately offered her the job.”
“Minerva!” Irma exclaimed. “That was hardly yours to give.”
“I had every right to ask her to put her name in for consideration,” Minerva replied. She took a deep breath as the sweet warmth of the vodka coursed through her. “She was the only person I could possibly see running Hogwarts.”
“Well, I agree,” Poppy said. “She’ll do a splendid job.”
Minerva looked at her dear friends, both much older women, who should have left their posts years before they did. But after the Second War, both of them, as did all the remaining teachers, agreed to stay at their posts, to serve the students, to influence and care for the next generations of witches and wizards. And, to help the new Headmistress, bereaved and shaken by the massive loss of friends, the fracture in their society, and the destruction to the castle. It had been hard, so hard, but the years she spent as the head of the beloved institution had made all the difference because she had succeeded and the school emerged whole and strong, enrollment at record levels. Their world, their people, was not just surviving, but thriving, and that gave Minerva hope.
She settled into her comfortable chair, took a sip of her excellent drink, laughed at something amusing Irma said, and felt very much at peace.
*~*
Author:
abigail89Characters/Pairings: Minerva McGonagall, Poppy Pomfrey, Irma Pince, Horace Slughorn, Molly & Arthur Weasley, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and original characters
Rating: General
Word Count: ~5300
Content/Warning(s): Arthur Weasley is close to death, but he never appears in the story.
Summary: Retirement is sometimes not easy, especially if one has held a job that they truly loved. For Minerva McGonagall, Professor and Headmistress of Hogwarts, easing into a life beyond the castle means adjusting to not being needed.
Prompt: How does the magical world care for its elderly, especially when the elderly decide they can no longer effectively live on their own. A nursing home? An "assisted living" community? etc. What is life like in retirement in the wizarding world?
A/N: Having wrangled with these issues, and continue to consider them in real life, I wanted to write this part of Minerva’s story. Many, many thanks to my dear
weepingnaiad for a very helpful read-through to catch the mistakes. All remaining mistakes are mine, though.A knock on the ancient wooden door startled Minerva McGonagall. She's wasn't expecting anyone at the late hour, on a Friday night three days after the end of the school year; everyone was supposed to be away on holiday, or quietly getting drunk, or sleeping--except for maybe some of the junior members of the Hogwarts faculty tasked with sorting through the typical end-of-year detritus. Just last night she’d gone down to the faculty break room and found four said junior faculty members having a dance-off. It had been loud, and fun, and involved excellent drinks. At this moment, she wanted to be doing anything except what she was doing, even though the task before her was important and life-changing, and truth be told, she was mostly glad to not have the wicked hangover. Wonder how Severus is doing, she thought with relish.
She waved her wand and without a word, the door turned transparent so that she could see who was coming by for a late visit. The person before her caused a smile to light her lips, and she waved her wand again to open the door and admit Hermione Granger.
“Headmistress?” she called. “It’s Hermione!”
“Of course it is, my dear,” Minerva said as she carefully hobbled her way towards the sitting room. “No one but you would be allowed in here at this late hour.”
“I’m so sorry for disturbing you,” the younger woman said as she stepped around a veritable wall of boxes.
“Think nothing of it! I am so pleased to see you,” Minerva said, giving Hermione a kiss on each cheek. “I was hoping you’d be coming this way sometime soon. I very much enjoyed reading your five-year plan for the school.”
“I hope I wasn’t too forward,” Hermione said. Her eyes conveyed worry. “It’s just that--I’ve given all these plans a great deal of thought over the last several years.”
“Of course you have,” Minerva replied. “I would expect nothing less. Though, I believe you are wise to spread the adjustments and additions to the curriculum over several years. The Governors are a soggy lot; they don’t take kindly to too much change thrown at them.”
“I know. But Harry assures me he and several other progressive members will make sure these changes will be implemented. I still need to get the idea of a wizarding university through the Ministry,” Hermione said. “It’s been rejected twice, once by my own administration. But now with a hundred wizard enrolled in Muggle unis, I think it’s time for the Ministry to enter the twenty-first century, only forty years late. Wizards need and want advanced education.”
“You don’t have to convince me. I am on your side, as I always have been,” Minerva said. ”I hope I’ll still be around to testify at its next hearing before the Wizengamot.”
“I’m sure you will. We nearly got it passed five years ago. But with the significant advancements made in the medical field in particular because of university education, I think they’ll see that its time has come.”
Minerva could see the fire in her favourite student’s eyes, and was so very proud of everything she’d accomplished. An accomplished barrister. Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Minister for Magic for the past ten years, and so very successful. She declined to stand for another term only because she felt it was time for someone else to lead the British Wizarding Community, and because she finally had the job she’d always wanted--Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
“Let us have hope for that.” Minerva looked around. “I would invite you to sit, but I’m afraid the chairs have all run back to the Room of Requirement once I gave them leave to do so. Perhaps we could sit upon some boxes? Dear me, how did I accumulate so many possessions?”
“It’s an entire lifetime, Headmistress,” Hermione replied. “Over one-hundred and twenty years.”
“I should have retired years ago. Many years ago,” she said as she slowly lowered herself onto a box that had been Transfigured into a chair. “But then, if I had, you wouldn’t have been ready to run Hogwarts.”
“I don’t know. My political detractors say I was Minister for ten years too long.”
Minerva made a derisive noise. “Utter fools and idiots, they are. You did so much good for the Wizarding world in your time. I’ll never tire of saying this: I am so very proud of you.”
Hermione bowed her head. “Thank you. I could not have been so successful without the backing of wizards like you and Harry, Euan Abercrombie, and the Weasleys, of course.”
Minerva looked at her clasped hands. “I saw him yesterday, at Phoenix House. He’s not well at all. Morag MacDougal, the new Healer, says it’s probably just a matter of weeks now.”
Hermione gasped. “Ron led me to believe he wasn’t that bad off.”
Minerva shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid Ronald doesn’t want to face the truth about his father’s condition. Just too much spell damage over the years. Plus, the attack by that horrible creature. . . .” She paused. “The poison rewrote part of Arthur’s DNA. I don’t suppose you’ve heard that new diagnosis?”
“Oh, my God, no, I haven’t,” Hermione said. She punched her thigh in frustration. “See? This is why we need Muggle training in some fields, why sometimes Muggle technology can be better than magic. I knew the genetics lab at St. Mungo’s was doing excellent work, groundbreaking work even. But here’s more proof that we need this education for our own kind.”
Minerva silently agreed. Hermione had made many advances within their world, chief among them finding money for wizards to attend Muggle universities; first in the sciences and medicine, and then in the humanities and law. Intellectual pursuit flourished under her passionate guidance and with it, many significant changes for the better. Arthur Weasley’s slow decline had baffled Healers for ages until one talented geneticist, an Oxford graduate, had found the root cause of his illness. With more wizards pursuing this kind of education, Minerva knew many more vexing problems confronting the Wizarding world could be solved.
“My dear, when you see Arthur next, you must be prepared,” Minerva said sadly. “He has declined precipitously in the past month. Molly is beside herself with grief.”
“No doubt she is,” Hermione said. “I should have been going to visit them all along. But with my dad’s health problems, and my mother’s death last year, well--”
“You have not had an easy time of it, either.” She patted Hermione’s hand.
“Yes, well.” Hermione blinked and looked around. “At least Dad is comfortable, even if he doesn’t recognize me any more.”
“I am so sorry.”
Hermione shook her head. “It’s all right. The Alzheimer’s is advanced, so it won’t be much longer. At least he’s unaware of the secondary health problems.” She sighed. “So how much more do you have to pack?”
“Not much. Everything in the parlor is for the charity shop in Hogsmeade. The boxes over there are for the Hogwarts Archives. I gave most of my books to the library and some colleagues in the Ministry. The rest of the furniture, the furniture loyal to me, unlike the chairs”--she said this in a significant tone--”will be going to rooms worthy of the pieces. Though Stephen Dalton, he’s teaching Transfiguration now, has claimed the glass-fronted bookcase for his office. He’s always liked it. You and Mr. Potter will have to go through and select items for your offices and living quarters this summer.”
“You didn’t move the Headmaster’s desk?”
“Oh, goodness, no. I knew you’d want to claim that for your own.”
Hermione blew out a puff of air. “Well, thank Merlin for that. So Harry has decided to set up rooms here? I’m surprised he’d want to leave his house at Godric’s Hollow.”
“He felt he’d need to be on site some nights, but I do believe he intends to stay in his home. It’s such a lovely place. I wouldn’t want to leave it either.”
Hermione turned to her, her eyes bright. “And now you’re leaving Hogwarts. That’s something I thought I’d never see.” Hermione reached out and took Minerva’s hand.
Minerva squeezed her hand in return. “The time has come. I am old and infirm. The Phoenix House will be quite comfortable for my final days, and it just so happen I know everyone there. It’ll be a homecoming of sorts, to be back with so many colleagues and friends.”
“I will miss your wise counsel,” Hermione said.
“My dear, it is I who will miss seeing what you will accomplish. I have no doubt Hogwarts’s best years lie ahead.”
*~*
“That’s the last of it,” Harry Potter said. He was surrounded by several trunks and five wooden crates. “Really, Minerva, you could’ve brought more with you.”
“But there was no need for anything more,” she insisted as she removed her tall black hat.
The second to last day of July was a fair one, blue sky with stripes of thin, white clouds overhead, temperature tolerable. A good day to move to one’s final home before, well--wherever. The Phoenix House for Retired Hogwarts Teachers and Friends was situated at the west end of Hogsmeade, far off the High Street, in a grove of old-growth ash and oak trees that opened onto the loch below. Even though it wasn’t a very old structure, having been built with funds from a grateful former student after the defeat of Voldemort in the Second War, the young wizard architect designed it with elements of the school castle in mind, hoping it would be a comfort to those who had dedicated their lives to the school. And it was--quirky and charming, it preserved some of the unique features such as gargoyles on the gables and a stone facade, but lacked the other not-so charming aspects: the staircases stayed firmly in place, there were no ghosts, and there was a central heating system. That last feature sealed the deal for most of its current inhabitants. Two stories high with a mechanical lift and rooms with large windows and en-suite baths, plenty of closet space and furniture that was modern and light, Minerva had fallen in love with it and her assigned south-facing rooms at first glance.
*
Ron Weasley directed two large valises up the stairs with his wand. “Don’t let them bash into the walls!” House matron Megan Jones shouted up the stairs behind him. “I swear I’ll make you repair the marks without magic.”
“Okay, Megan,” Ron shouted back. Then, he muttered, “Geez, keep your hair on. Like I don’t know how to move things around. Thinks I’m an ickle firstie.” One of the valises turned sideways and banged into the metal railing.
“I heard that, Ron!”
“No blood, no foul!” he said.
He arrived on the second floor and directed the valises into Minerva’s room. “Ta! This is really nice, Head--I mean, Minerva. Very bright. I don’t think Mum and Dad had a place on this floor.”
“I don’t imagine since the larger rooms for couples are on the first,” Minerva said. “Please put the bags over by the closet. It’ll make it easier for me to hang my things.”
“I thought Hermione was coming over to help, her and Angelina,” Harry said. He gave Minerva his hand as she lowered herself into a nearby chair.
“Miss Granger has far too much to attend to, really,” Minerva protested. “I shall do quite well on my own.” After I’ve had a nap.
She watched as Harry continued to fuss with boxes and crates, moving several to different parts of the small flat, and Ron left to get more things. “Boys, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, truly. I can do all of this myself,” she found herself saying after a while.
Harry crouched beside her chair, and gently took her hand. “Minerva, you’ve been asleep for about half an hour.”
Minerva started, then smiled. “Oh. Yes, I suppose I have. I do that a lot of late.”
“Really, we’re nearly finished,” Ron said. “Only things left are for you to unpack your clothing. We did the heavy stuff.”
She looked around and saw that all of her books and china figurines and her father’s family crystal stemware were on shelves or in a small china cabinet behind her in the small sitting room. The wooden crates were nowhere to be seen. “I see you’ve been busy,” she remarked.
“Well, we reckoned those would be safe since you and Hermione had clearly marked them,” Ron said. “The rest of the things are in the bedroom.”
“Help me up, please, so I can see,” Minerva said.
Harry and Ron took her hands. “Despite Poppy recommending I use a Levitating charm, I much prefer not doing magic on myself. I like to feel firmness on my feet.” She stood and centered herself before moving.
“I’m with you there, unless there’s a chair or a broomstick involved,” Ron confessed.
“I find I get a wee bit wobbly when I try to Levitate myself, even just a couple of inches. And my ability to Apparate has become less accurate,” Minerva said as they slowly walked. “I haven’t Apparated in years.”
She couldn’t see Harry and Ron exchange glances over her head. “It does take determination and deliberation,” Ron said. “Sometimes one of the D’s deserts me.”
“I think you will find Apparition is one of the first spells to fail you,” she said, “But you must practice it every day, Ronald. You’re much too young to give it up.”
“I usually just take the Floo or get Harry to side-along.”
“Yeah, he makes me do all the heavy Apparating,” Harry joked. “But then he cooks dinner.”
“Then you are following in your excellent mothers’ footsteps, both of you,” Minerva said, as she sat on the bed. “I have always thought Molly’s mutton stew to be equal to none. And that is saying something as my own mother was an outstanding cook.”
“It is good,” Ron said. “I think she--”
“Hello! Hello!” came a cheery greeting from the sitting room. “Minerva, are you here?”
“In here, Poppy,” Minerva called out.
Two white-haired, stooped over witches tottered in, each using an elaborate carved wooden cane. “Oh, Minerva, we’re so glad you’ve finally moved it,” Poppy Pomfrey said. “I was just telling Irma here--Oh, you have Ronald and Harry Potter with you!”
“Don’t let us stop your visit,” Harry said. “We were just getting ready to maybe help Minerva unpack her things in here.”
“Now, Harry, you have done more than enough.” Minerva patted his arm. “I do not know what I would’ve done without you and Ronald. Thank you very much.”
“Didn’t do all that much,” Ron said, “Guess I’ll go see Mum and Dad, then.”
Harry gave Minerva a hug. “I’ll come by next week to see you again. Good-bye, ladies.”
After he left, Minerva said, “Have you heard Harry will be teaching a few classes in defensive magic?”
“No, I haven’t,” Irma Pince said, “but it makes perfect sense. He’s still the Head of Magical Law Enforcement?”
“He’s not leaving Godric’s Hollow to live in the castle, is he?” Poppy asked. “His house is so beautiful.”
“He is and no, he’s not leaving his home,” Minerva answered deftly. “He’ll Apparate in with Ronald when he teaches. But I believe he is beginning to ease out of the Ministry, now that Miss Granger has left office.”
“Has he fully recovered from that nasty hex he got a few years ago?” Poppy asked. “It was a bad one.”
“I think he has. Now, please, sit with me,” Minerva said. She waved her wand and Transfigured the two trunks into comfortable sitting chairs. “It’s been far too long since we’ve had a proper chat.”
*~*
After puttering around in her rooms for the afternoon and chatting with her dear friends, Minerva took the lift down to the dining room for tea. The room was large and lavishly furnished with chandeliers and golden oak tables and chairs. At one of the tables sat Horace Slughorn with an aide. She saw his eyes lighten with recognition and he motioned to her with his hand.
Dear Horace. Still going on after two strokes. Minerva slowly made her way over to his table. The aide was feeding him soup, one spoonful at a time, and daubing his chin with a large fabric serviette. “Horace, it is so good too see you,” Minerva said. She kissed his forehead, and then took a seat beside him. A dining attendant came to her immediately with a tray of food.
“Here you are, Headmistress,” the young woman said. “I’m Carolina. I was a student six years ago. Hufflepuff.”
“Hello, my dear,” Minerva said. “Now that I am no longer your Headmistress, please call me Minerva.”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s good to see you again, and welcome to Phoenix House. I hope you’re comfortable here.”
“Yes, very. My room is very warm, and a welcome change after so many years in that draughty old castle.”
An odd guffawing came from Horace. The aide caught the food flowing from the left side of his mouth as he grimaced, or grinned. He held his wand to his neck to enhance his voice. “Try sleeping in the dungeon. Constant water dripping and puddles everywhere. Cold. So cold.”
“I’m afraid even the best of magic can’t overcome the laws of physics, Horace,” Minerva said, after taking a long, appreciative sip of hot tea. It was brewed perfectly. “I know you tried everything, as did Severus and every Slytherin House faculty member before you. We even hired a Muggle engineer who was married to a wizard, about five years after you came here. She managed to install a piece of mechanical equipment that got rid of the puddles, but the damp, I’m afraid it is forever.”
“That’s something, at least,” Horace said. He lowered his wand and the aide held up another spoonful of porridge which he gratefully accepted.
Minerva turned her attention to her meal of steak-and-kidney pie, steamed broccoli, and crusty bread. Bland, but acceptable, she thought as she tasted it.
During tea, many former colleagues came by to greet her: Pomona Sprout, Bathsheba Babbling, Filius Flitwick (who now was confined to a very small wheelchair). Those teachers who had taught with her before the war and who were still alive were here, though there were a few faces she did not recognize, family members of those teachers or friends.
Molly Weasley bustled by with a tray of empty dishes and cups; Minerva waved to her, and Molly nodded and indicated to the tray in her hands. A half-minute later, Molly returned and dropped into the chair beside her. She grasped Minerva’s hand.
“I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to welcome you earlier. The Healer was here checking Arthur’s potions.” She blew a curl out of her face. “I know Ron has told you.”
“Yes. I am so sorry, Molly,” Minerva said sadly.
She looked tired and worried. “We knew this was a possibility, that Arthur would have long-term problems with that snake bite. We just didn’t know when or how.” She picked up a serviette and blew her nose. “But we’ve had a good, long life. Seen our grandchildren be born and start their lives. Did you know Roxanne is expecting again? We’ve only just found out. That’ll be our tenth great-grandchild!”
Minerva gave Molly’s hand a squeeze; the two women watched the evening sun slip behind the ridges of the distant mountains. Horace Slughorn finished his meal and afterward, his carer wheeled him away for a bath.
*~*
The next day Minerva attacked the unpacking of her clothing and decorating of her bedroom with excitement and vigor. She directed a painting of a Scottish castle and a small tapestry made for her by a former student that depicted the Four Founders of Hogwarts to hang on the walls. Satisfied, she turned to the six valises and trunks; she opened them all with her wand and looked inside each case. Even though she’d whittled away at her closets’ contents before packing, she was amazed at how much clothing she owned. She pulled out several dresses and examined them closely. One she realized she’d had for fifty years. “I think that can go into the charity bin,” she said softly to herself, and tossed it onto the bed as well as a cape. “This can go with it.”
Abandoning her wand, Minerva pulled out each item, each book, each article of clothing from the containers, and examined them closely. Some items made her shake her head, wondering why she’d bothered to keep such a silly thing; the others she found a place for. After several hours, she emptied all of the valises, but decided not to bother with one of the trunks that contained heavy cloaks and shoes for cold weather. She directed it to a space under the window, and Transfigured a pincushion into a large, soft cushion which she laid on the trunk; then she sat on it, slowly.
Her room overlooked a garden below, one with rows and circles of blooming flowers. She recognized both of the gardeners: one, a young man from just a few years ago; the other, an older woman whose name she could not recall. The young man, Jack Pine, had extraordinary skill for Transfiguration, but who loved the serenity and solitude of the greenhouse. She smiled as she watched him carefully tend to an artfully arranged grouping of flowers. They were of a Muggle variety, planted for no other reason than beauty and enjoyment. Minerva noted that the garden was mostly flowering plants and herbs, some magical, some for cooking. Sometimes we wizards overlook the usefulness of having a garden that just brings us joy. Magical plants can oftentimes be dangerous, so most wizards avoid having gardens altogether. And sometimes we are foolish in our denial of all things Muggle. My father loved his English roses, so beautiful and delicate.
She enjoyed watching the gardeners work for a long time; when she looked away she realized she’d spent all that time just...sitting. Observing. Not thinking about students’ performances, class notes, the budget, the latest asinine policy change from one of the more bothersome member of the Governors. No, all she had to do now was to sit and enjoy life as it unfolded in all it unhurriedness and tender glory. It was a strange feeling, not to be wanted, not to be constantly hounded by parents, faculty, students, members of the public, all needing her attention right now. The last forty years had been such a challenge, what with rebuilding the heavily damaged castle, rebuilding trust with all of Wizarding Britain that Hogwarts School was indeed the best place for their children to attend, fighting with the Ministry over money, replacing and expanding the faculty, arguing with faculty, with parents...But she would not have traded any of it because running Hogwarts had been the highlight of her life. It’s what Albus Dumbledore had selected her for, trained her for; he knew she had the chops to do the job and she knew she could do the job as well. And, she did.
But now the time had come to set that job, that work, that world, that identity aside. It was the right time, with her health, her strength, her enthusiasm and her magic all failing. And, because the right person had come available to take over for her. Minerva would not have wanted it any other way.
It was time for lunch, not because there was a bell to tell her so, but because she wanted it.
The freedom to make that choice was nearly overwhelming.
*~*
“You are in quite good health, Professor,” Healer Morag MacDougal said, making a note on the parchment. “Blood pressure is low, but given your heart condition, it’s not unmanageable. Having some dizzy spells?”
Minerva wagged her head from side to side. “On occasion.”
“When you stand suddenly? Bending over?”
“Yes.”
“Have you blacked out totally?”
Minerva sighed. “Yes. A few times.”
“How about when you’re not doing anything?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
MacDougal put the quill down on the table. “Professor, if I talked to Healer Blackthorne at Hogwarts, what would he tell me?”
Minerva raised an eyebrow. “And you haven’t spoken with him?”
“I’ve received your medical file from the school, but I’d much rather hear it from you. I want to know what’s going on now.”
“I’m sure it’s all in that thick file sitting on the desk behind you,” Minerva said archly. “Why should I waste my breath with the recitation?”
MacDougal sighed again. “Yes, well, I do know. You have been passing out and have sustained some injuries. It’s all related to your heart condition and it goes back to that event some forty years ago.”
“Yes.”
Minerva still seethed thinking about that night, when she’d been attacked by Dolores Umbridge and her band of lackeys, Stunned by four of them; it had taken a while to recover from the force of the spells. My own damn fault! she thought fiercely. If only I’d had the presence of mind to strike first or put up a Deflecting Spell. If only I’d put up more of a fight over that witch taking control of the school. . . . Of course she had recovered, but the long-term effects were being felt now.
“You’ve been taking a Pepper-Up Potion when you feel especially poorly,” MacDougal said, checking her file, “but I think we need to go in a different direction. There is a Muggle medication that uses digitalis as its base. We in the wizarding world have used it for centuries to treat seizures and to help with swelling, but Muggles extract the drug through a different process and make medications in precise, higher doses that can strengthen the heart muscle and make it work more efficiently.” She wrote a prescription out. “I’m going to have this sent over from a chemist in Inverness I work with. I think you’ll find it’ll work much better for you.”
They went through several more pages of notes made by Sylvester Blackthorne and of course, Madam Pomfrey. “I think that should do it,” Morag MacDougal said, as she pocketed her stethoscope. “For your age, you are in quite good health. I hope you will enjoy living here at Phoenix House; I see no reason why you cannot participate in any and all of the activities and travels. I think there’s still space for the trip to Norway next week. The Wizarding village there is so beautiful this time of year.”
Minerva arched her eyebrow in interest. “I shall have to check into that.”
“Yes, and with the new aeroplane that was donated by an anonymous former student, you all will travel in much ease and luxury. No more Floo’ing through the Chunnel to Normandy. No more hiring the Knight Bus.” She shuddered. “No more travelling with Muggles on commercial aeroplanes, and especially no more going through Gatwick. A nightmare, that is.”
“Oh, much agreed.”
Morag helped Minerva off of the exam table. “I hope you will also take the Phoenix Van to London to go shopping. Update your wardrobe to that of a properly retired matron. And sit in the sun for at least twenty minutes a day. It will help generate vitamin D which is good for your bones.”
“Is that what you learned at that Muggle medical school?” Minerva asked.
The younger witch laughed. “Yes, indeed. That, and much, much more.”
“Good. Then my financial investment in the scholarship fund was put to good use.”
Morag held the door open for her. “It’s an entirely new day in Wizarding medicine, thanks to that scholarship fund. James Potter was the first to go to medical school; he was my advisor at the University of Edinburgh, as he has been for all wizards going there through the years. There have been so many advances made since we’ve begun interacting with Muggles in more significant ways, like medicine and engineering.”
Minerva shook Morag’s hand, then spontaneously hugged her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you around, then. And Minerva,” Morag said, “the trip to Bali in February? Not to be missed.”
*~*
“Minerrrrrrva!”
Minerva awoke with a start. She’d been sitting in a most comfortable chair in her bedroom, reading a novel--her first novel in years--in the sun shining through her window.
“Minnie! It’s us!”
The door to her flat opened and Poppy and Irma came in, each carrying a tote bag. “Oh, Minnie! It’s happy hour!” Irma cried.
They shuffled in slowly with their canes, set their bags down, and opened them. “Do you have your special glasses?”
“Of course I do,” Minerva said. She walked over to the china cabinet and took out the crystal glasses. “These are so beautiful.” She held one up to the light and watched the rays play through the cuts and swirls.
“They are,” Poppy said, as she cracked open a bottle of fine vodka. “Perfect for a Cosmopolitan.”
“Oh, I have so missed your Cosmos,” Minerva said.
“You should have been coming round all these years,” Irma said, taking two of the delicate glasses to the coffee table that served as an impromptu bar.
“I know,” Minerva said, shaking her head. “I should have done many things. I’ve missed you both, missed our lively conversations.”
“As much as my Cosmos?” Poppy asked, her eyes sparkling.
“Almost,” Minerva replied, teasing. “Of course not. I have missed you both dreadfully.”
Poppy mixed the drinks as Irma prepared a plate of cheese and fruit, while Minerva waved her wand to pull up a chair. Drinks were poured and each woman sat with a glass.
“Minerva,” Poppy asked, breaking the silence, “why did it take so long for you to leave your position?”
Minerva shrugged. “Because Hogwarts needed me,” she said simply. “I couldn’t leave until I felt I could leave. When Miss Granger contacted me to say she was not standing for another term as Minister for Magic, I immediately offered her the job.”
“Minerva!” Irma exclaimed. “That was hardly yours to give.”
“I had every right to ask her to put her name in for consideration,” Minerva replied. She took a deep breath as the sweet warmth of the vodka coursed through her. “She was the only person I could possibly see running Hogwarts.”
“Well, I agree,” Poppy said. “She’ll do a splendid job.”
Minerva looked at her dear friends, both much older women, who should have left their posts years before they did. But after the Second War, both of them, as did all the remaining teachers, agreed to stay at their posts, to serve the students, to influence and care for the next generations of witches and wizards. And, to help the new Headmistress, bereaved and shaken by the massive loss of friends, the fracture in their society, and the destruction to the castle. It had been hard, so hard, but the years she spent as the head of the beloved institution had made all the difference because she had succeeded and the school emerged whole and strong, enrollment at record levels. Their world, their people, was not just surviving, but thriving, and that gave Minerva hope.
She settled into her comfortable chair, took a sip of her excellent drink, laughed at something amusing Irma said, and felt very much at peace.
*~*
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Date: 2015-03-19 05:25 pm (UTC)