A Slant-Told Tale | Minerva McGonagall

Chapter Twelve

"Tell me, Minerva: Do you enjoy teaching?"

26 October 1956

"Minerva?"

At first, she wasn't sure if the voice had been in her head—she had heard it in her dreams often enough to allow her to identify it immediately.

But when she looked up from her paperwork, there he was, beaming down at her like a benevolent apparition.

"Professor Dumbledore!" she said, knocking her quill from the table in her haste to stand.

He bent down to retrieve it and handed it to her. "I'm sorry if I startled you, my dear."

"No, I just wasn't expecting to see you here."

That, thought Minerva, is the understatement of the year.

"Well, that makes two of us, then," he said. "I certainly wasn't expecting to see you in London, much less here at the Ministry."

"Yes, I ... I've come back."

"Well, that is good news indeed." His voice grew soft and grave as he added, "I heard about your husband, of course. I'm very sorry."

"Thank you." She wondered how he had heard of Gerald's disappearance. It wasn't likely to have made the Daily Prophet.

"Have you had any more news of where he might be?"

"No, Professor."

"We must continue to hope, then," he said. "Are you planning to stay in Britain, or will you be returning to France?"

"No, I intend to stay."

"Well, you must come for tea and let me show off my new office."

"Oh, yes. I heard you had been made Headmaster after Professor Dippet's retirement. Congratulations."

"Thank you. It was all rather sudden, but Armando's health has been poor. I confess I am in a bit over my head at the moment."

Minerva doubted that and said so.