June Week

Chapter 16: Lion´s Den

Minerva lay sprawled out in front of the Gryffindor common-room fire, purring softly. To the casual eye, she appeared to be half asleep, just a cat lazing the night away. No one noticed that her ears pricked up attentively every time someone spoke.

The two other cats who were sharing the hearthrug with her knew she wasn´t really one of them, but they´d agreed to let her stay on the condition that she would yield the best positions to them. That was fine with Minerva. Lounging here in the heat and flickering light was soporific enough anyway - she didn´t want to actually fall asleep, only to look as if she had.

She rolled over, stretched herself luxuriously, and curled up nose-to-tail, facing out into the room with her eyes open in slits so she could look around. It was past midnight, and only a few people were still sitting in the squashy armchairs and sofas, playing wizard chess or studying or just talking quietly. The latter two, a seventh-year boy and girl on a love seat in the corner, were the ones she was interested in.

"I don´t mean I agree with everything he´s done," the girl was saying, "but you have to admit, some of his points are valid. What he says about Mudbloods taking property and positions that should go to real wizards ..."

"Muggle-borns are real wizards, Celestina," replied the boy impatiently.

The girl sniffed.

"That´s a matter of opinion," she said.

It certainly is, Celestina, thought Minerva from her position by the fire. And your opinion is going to get you in a world of trouble if you don´t watch out. She made a mental note to add Celestina to her list. It hurt her to think of a Gryffindor supporting anyone so cruel and unjust as Grindelwald, but if that was the way Celestina felt, then the girl had better be prepared to answer for it.

Celestina´s friend, apparently having heard enough of her rhetoric, now said good night and left for bed. Over the next quarter-hour, so did everyone else in the room. When the last person had gone up the stairs, Minerva got to her feet and stretched again, front legs first and then back, then lowered her head to give her two feline companions a friendly cheek-rub of thanks and farewell. The sound of their contented purring followed her as she flicked back to human form and let herself out the door.

Once in the hall, she hesitated for a moment, wondering whether she should go report to Dumbledore now or wait until morning. She checked her watch. It was nearly one a.m. now, but he often stayed up this late anyway - old men didn´t need much sleep, he said, which was a laugh. He was the farthest thing from an old man Minerva could imagine.

Thinking of him made her want to see him, if only for a few minutes, and she transformed again and trotted off toward his apartments. He´d installed an invisible cat-flap in the door so she could get in without having to change shape. That was how she entered, crouching and springing through the tiny opening in one motion, just because she could.

Dumbledore was marking practice N.E.W.T. exams at his desk, with his glasses all the way down at the tip of his nose and a frown of concentration creasing his forehead. He didn´t even blink as she came in.

He doesn´t know I´m here, thought Minerva. That thought was followed by a wicked one. Why not have a little fun with him? Instantly, she dropped into a stalking position and slunk across his faded red-and-gold Oriental rug, her eyes calculating the space between the bottom of his desk and the floor.

When she´d almost reached the halfway point, he coughed and shifted in his chair, and she froze with one paw off the ground. Damn!

But Dumbledore didn´t look up. He fumbled in the bowl next to his inkwell, picked a peppermint out of the assortment by touch, popped it into his mouth and went straight back to his work.

Minerva resumed her progress. She was almost there ... almost ... she was under the edge of the desk ...

"Hello, Minerva," Dumbledore said calmly as she leapt into his lap and put her front paws on his shoulders. "How did it go tonight?"

She changed back to human form, disgruntled that her attempt at surprise had failed. That left her sitting across his knees with her arms round his neck. Embarrassed and a little red in the face, she got to her feet.

"I didn´t think you saw me," she said.

"I knew you didn´t," Dumbledore replied with a small smile.

What does he mean by that?Minerva wondered. Since she didn´t know, she launched into her report. He listened attentively and scrawled notes on a spare scrap of parchment while she talked.

"Are your student helpers working out well?" he asked. In addition to Charlotte Borgin and Tom, he´d recruited two seventh-year prefects to assist her in the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff common rooms - those doors were designed to protect the students, and so had no openings, not even cat-size ones. She needed someone to let her in, and sometimes to let her out as well.

"Yes." Relying on Tom for help was not pleasant, but he´d discharged his duty with the same cool efficiency he exhibited in everything he did. At no time had he behaved improperly toward her or tried to touch her, even when she was a cat.

"And you are being careful?"

"Yes," she said again. Directly after their meeting in Dippet´s office, Dumbledore had pulled her aside and told her in no uncertain terms that she was forbidden to risk her safety the way she had in the West Tower. If she saw or heard of any sort of meeting or other illicit activity, she was to come and get him immediately, and if he was away, as he still was from time to time, she was to go to Dippet.

"No heroics, Minerva," he´d said, looking at her sternly over his glasses. "Believe me, I understand those Gryffindor tendencies of yours - I have them myself - but being a live Gryffindor is greatly preferable to being a dead one, if you can help it. Promise."

She´d promised, though at the time she´d wondered if she would be able to keep that promise in the heat of a volatile situation. Fortunately, she hadn´t been put to the test.

"I´m very glad to hear it," Dumbledore said now. "Which House is next on your schedule?"

"Slytherin, tomorrow. In the afternoon this time - it´s a Hogsmeade day, and you know some of the older students stay behind. They might talk while the others are away."

"Ah, a beautiful spring Saturday afternoon in the dungeon," said Dumbledore. "Not my idea of a wonderful time, but when duty calls, what can we do but answer?"

Minerva smiled at that. "I don´t mind," she said. "I´ve actually been enjoying this assignment." She had. Her independent spying efforts had always made her feel a little uneasy, as if she were doing something not quite honorable, even though she´d known she had good reason. Spying on behalf of the Ministry and Hogwarts, on the other hand, was deeply fulfilling. Now she was part of an effort larger than herself and her own grievances. It helped, too, that her activities weren´t entirely secret - she had the support and guidance of people she trusted. And though she didn´t like to admit it, there was a component of pride, too. It felt good to be consulted by Dumbledore and Bella, to be treated as a capable adult and their equal instead of an overgrown student. Overall, she was happier now than she had been at any time since the week of her graduation.

"You´ve done wonderfully well at it," said Dumbledore. "One would almost think you had prior experience." She looked at him quickly, wondering if he was trying to hint at something, but his expression held only approval.

"Thank you," she said, blushing a little.

"Speaking of that," he said casually, "Bella told me that she had talked to you about your abilities, and how you might use them in a more ... official capacity."

"Oh. Yes." Minerva felt her blush heat up a notch. Bella had visited her a few days earlier to collect a report, and before she left, had suggested very seriously that Minerva should consider applying for a position with the Ministry at the end of the school term. Minerva had been both flattered and flustered, and had told Bella she would consider it. Working for the Ministry would mean giving up teaching, and she wasn´t sure she was prepared to do that.

"And have you given it any thought?"

"A little," Minerva said, which was a complete lie - she´d thought about it in nearly every free moment. "Do you think I should apply?"

"It isn´t my decision to make," said Dumbledore. "You have the potential to be an excellent teacher. Your students have already learned a great deal from you. Is teaching rewarding for you, though? Is it what you want to do with the rest of your life?"

She studied his face, wondering what he wanted her to say. The truth was, she didn´t know. She enjoyed her classes and loved seeing the delight on her students´ faces when they finally grasped a new concept or learned to perform a difficult transfiguration. But there were plenty of frustrating moments in the job as well.

"I haven´t decided," she said finally.

"That´s quite all right," Dumbledore replied. To her relief, he didn´t look disappointed, only curious to see what she would choose. A small, selfish part of her wished he had said Don´t leave, Minerva; stay here with me, but she ignored it and reached across the desk to give his hand an affectionate squeeze.

He squeezed back, then glanced over at his clock and said "Good Lord, it´s nearly two in the morning. You´ll be in no condition to do anything tomorrow if you don´t get off to bed. Shall I walk you to your room?"

"No need for that," she said. "I´d just be keeping you from your own rest. I´ll see you at breakfast. Goodnight."

"Goodnight to you," he said. "And Minerva - before you go, I want you to know that whatever path you take, I will support your decision. I told you once that we would always be friends. I meant it."

"Thank you," she said again, softly, and went away smiling to herself.