A Question of Head vs. Heart

The halls of Hogwarts were near silent, the only sounds to be heard on this late-July morning were the echoes of single set of footfalls on the stone floors. Minerva McGonagall was making her way back to her office and the breakfast and tea tray the house elves would have waiting for her there.

She appreciated this time of year at the castle. The students were all at home, their parents now responsible for monitoring their activities and general mayhem. Though some of the staff chose to remain for the summer, most of them opted to return to the company of their family and friends. Away from the confines of the castle, they were more able to take advantage of the wealth of free time at their disposal during these months. The relative solitude here left her to her thoughts and research with few interruptions.

She unlocked her office door, pushed it open and was greeted by the smell of Darjeeling tea and the soft hoots of the owl perched on the sill of an open window. 'Hello, Artemis. What have you brought me this morning?' Minerva asked as the owl flew from the window and dropped her post next to the breakfast tray. She absently fed the owl a biscuit from the jar on her desk, receiving a gentle nip of thanks in return, and poured herself a cup of tea. The post was the usual sort of mix – a letter from Emmeline, the latest issue of Theoretical Foundations of Transfiguration, and a copy of the Daily Prophet. Her eyes widened as she read the day's headline. She quickly crossed to the fireplace and tossed a bit of powder into the flames while calling 'Albus.'

*

Minerva removed her glasses and wiped them with her handkerchief. She pinched the bridge of her nose for a few moments before placing the glasses back in their original position. Her gaze then fell on the portraits that lined the wall behind Dumbledore's desk. Their occupants appeared to be monitoring the discussion with varying states of interest.

'But none of this answers the question of why now. What could he possibly be plotting after all these years? Not to mention how he managed to escape in the first place.'

One of the portraits gave a derisive snort. 'That great-great-grandson of mine never knew when to give up. Stubborn, even for a Black.'

'I have a number of theories, my dear Professor,' Dumbledore replied calmly, ignoring the interruption. 'Unfortunately, each seems as unlikely as the next.'

'So what is our next course of action?' she queried. 'We will need to put some precautions in place prior to the start of the coming term.'

'I've spoken with Arabella and she's agreed to increase her watch over Harry wherever she can. In addition, I've contacted Remus Lupin about returning to the UK and taking up the vacant post of Defence Against the Dark Arts Master.' Dumbledore took a slow sip his tea and was eyeing her over the cup's rim. She would have described his expression as one of near-amusement, if that didn't contrast so highly with the topic at hand.

'Vacant position?' she asked, the confusion evident in her tone. 'What happened to Professor Kincaid? I was under the impression she already signed a contract for the coming school year.'

'An unavoidable conflict arose. She sends her most sincere apologies,' Dumbledore said evenly. He maintained that vaguely amused expression.

'Unavoidable –,' she cut herself off and raised her right eyebrow questioningly.

Unavoidable conflict my tartan covered arse. Really, you have to credit the man for the speed with which he can alter a situation to better suit his needs. If he wasn't so obviously a Gryffindor, and frustratingly so at times, I'd wonder if the Hat didn't make a mistake all those years ago.

'Dumbledore, are you confident Mr. Lupin is the correct choice?'

'Do you doubt his qualifications or his abilities at Defence?' he enquired.

'Of course not, I have nothing but respect for his work and research in the last several years.'

'I am sure, after all these years, you are not now worried about his being a werewolf?'

'You know that is not what I meant either, Albus,' she said, her lips pulling into a thin line.

'Then I fail to see why he would not make a most appropriate Defence Master,' he replied.

Minerva sighed; she disliked this game of deliberate obtuseness on Dumbledore's part. 'I assume that by extending an offer to Mr. Lupin at this time, especially when we had already arranged for another professor, that his appeal lies not only in his skill at Defence but his past connections to Sirius Black and Mr. Potter.'

Dumbledore merely nodded in a non-committal fashion.

'Given his -,' she hesitated. '- history with the former, I question whether he will be able to maintain a clear head where Sirius Black in concerned.'

'Minerva -,' Dumbledore began.

'Do not 'Minerva' me. You know, as well as I, what they once were to one another', she stated tersely.

'I fail to see how their choice, however uncommon -'

'I am not looking to renew that particular discussion; you know my thoughts on it as well as I know yours. All I want to point out is that whether or not I agree with that sort of relationship, any sort can complicate decision-making as well as loyalties. I would be having this same discussion with you right now if Sirius were a woman.'

Dumbledore pressed his fingers together, forming a steeple with them in front of his chin. 'I understand your concerns; however, Remus has had many years in which to heal some of these wounds. I also trust him. He will be a most valuable staff member as well as a possible asset in connection to Sirius Black, should events come to that.'

After nearly 40 years of working with the man, Minerva knew when continuing a discussion would be an exercise in futility. She picked herself out of her chair and straightened out the folds of her robes. She nodded her head in Dumbledore's direction.

'I need to return to my office. I have to finish preparing the students' letters and supply lists for next term. Please let Remus know he can contact me if he needs any assistance in making arrangements for his arrival.'

With that Minerva walked toward the door. Her hand was poised over the door knob when a final thought came to her.

She turned her head, the beginnings of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

'I have just one request,' she said.

Dumbledore looked up from the papers scattered across his desk. 'Anything,' he replied.

'You have to tell Severus.'