Hag Tales

V. The One with the Surprised Magizoologist

I didn't expect this.

What Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank expects, when she accepts Dumbledore's offer of two weeks work with the option for an extension, is a pleasant change of pace from her usual duties at the Cambrian Magizoolgical Preserve. It's a chance to spend a little time showing young folks to respect the creatures they share the Earth with and to do some exploring around the Highlands. She's still never encountered a cù-sìth and has refreshed the Silentium Charm on her best earmuffs in hopes of coaxing one from the rocks and caves that scar the hills around the school.

What she doesn't expect is Minerva McGonagall.

Or, more precisely, she doesn't expect to develop a ... whatever it is ... for the school's famously prim deputy headmistress.

It's a week into Will's term as the temporary Care of Magical Creatures teacher before she decides she even likes the witch.

Oh, McGonagall is courteous at their first meeting, explaining the situation and what will be expected of Will. And she's helpful in making certain Will has everything she needs to be comfortable, both in her unaccustomed teaching role and in her temporary digs in the castle.

But she's been nothing more than politely collegial and hasn't given Will any reason to think she's looking to expand collegiality into anything else, and that's fine with Will. She knew Minerva McGonagall vaguely in school—even a seventh-year Hufflepuff couldn't have missed the Gryffindor swot who'd won Transfiguration Today's "Most Promising Newcomer" award in her fifth year—and was once caught out of bounds after hours and turned in to her head of house by Little Miss Prefect. The three-hour detention Will earned with Ogg didn't endear Minerva McGonagall to her, and it cemented the little chit in her mind as a rule-bound prig.

The years since haven't softened McGonagall any, as far as Will can see. She's tough with the students and ranges from crisp to cordial with the staff, but she's also kind when it's needed. When a student in her fourth-year class accidentally severs the tail of the rat she was supposed to Transfigure into a teacup, McGonagall escorts the hysterical Slytherin to Will's outdoor classroom and sits with her while Will mends the poor creature, murmuring reassurances into the child's ear and patting her hand.

"She lost her father in a splinching two months ago," McGonagall says by way of explanation later in the staffroom. "Her magic has been off since, but with a little extra care, she should be all right."

Will approves of caring for wounded creatures, of course, so she decides—on a trial basis—to change her estimation of McGonagall. She's less a Manticore (XXXXX classification) than a Fire Crab (XXX), hard on the outside, and liable to burn, but with a certain softness on the inside, if you can get to it and don't mind the claws.

McGonagall also, Will discovers, has a dry humour that comes out not only with her closer colleagues, but also, surprisingly, at staff meetings, and often at Dumbledore's expense.

Will, who is sitting next to the deputy headmistress at the first meeting and hears McGonagall's sotto-voce quip about Dumbledore's dress sense, stifles a laugh. McGonagall's eyes slide over to her, and damn if her lip doesn't twitch upward a half inch at Will.

Interesting.

Maybe she's more in the order of a Billywig (still XXX), with a sting that can wound, but whose stinger most often causes a mild sensation of mirth.

Then there's the way McGonagall handles the matter of Fang (unclassified).

The poor dog has been miserable, pining for Hagrid and sniffing at Will's heels, his pitiful whines turning to full-on howls when Will feeds him and leaves him alone in the hut in the evening.