[hp fic] Expected and Unexpected (Minerva and Luna, PG)
Expected and Unexpected
Fandom: HP
Rating: PG
Summary: Osric Lovegood is reluctant to send his daughter to Hogwarts. Dumbledore sends Minerva to straighten things out.
A/N: For quinquatrus's New Term challenge. (Prompt: Minerva's friendship (or attempts to bond) with a non-Gryffindor child.) Approx. 3,000 words. Many thanks to lyras for the proofread.
While Minerva waited with increasing impatience for Osric Lovegood to open the door, she tried to remember what he’d been like as a student. The word fanciful came to mind before the color of his hair. He’d had a lively imagination; when they’d worked, his transfigurations had always been rather…interesting. But he’d had an unfortunate tendency to drift off in class. Gullible too, and given to spreading rumors, not out of malice but because - Pomona Sprout, Lovegood’s Head of House, had informed her once - he thought the other students had the right to know.
How he’d managed to get Sylvia Maykirtle - one of Hogwarts’s best minds, shadowed only by the wildfire Potter and Black - to marry him was quite beyond Minerva’s own modest imagination. She remembered Sylvia well enough: a plain girl, but sharp as a tack, good-natured, well liked. She had loved to experiment. At first she’d only made slight modifications to easy charms and potions. “Just mucking about,” she’d say absently as silvery fish bobbed drunkenly around her head, or as the liquid in her goblet turned from orange to red to an alarming lavender.
Later, she’d started inventing her own spells.
Such a shame about the accident. And a shame that the little girl, Luna, had witnessed it. Minerva had seen her share of terrible things during the war with Voldemort and his minions, but at least she had been spared the agony of watching someone she loved die.
Minerva frowned. What in Merlin's name was keeping Lovegood? She rapped on his door, more insistently this time. He had to be home; the windows were lighted, and besides, she had told him that she would be in Devon at this hour.
She heard a loud clatter, followed by a thud, muffled only slightly by the heavy wooden door, and raised her eyebrows. At length, there was the sound of a lock being undone, and then the door was opened a crack, and she caught a glimpse of pale cheek and messy sandy hair.
"Lovegood?"
"Professor McGonagall," came the shaky voice. "Um. Sorry. Was just tidying up. Bit of a mess, I'm afraid. Forgot you were coming, or I'd have-"
"Taken pains to be elsewhere?" Minerva asked sharply. "Step aside, Lovegood. I came all this way to talk with you, and I don't intend to do it on your doorstep."
It was good that he moved quickly, for she had lost all patience. She pushed the door open the rest of the way, and strode into the front corridor. From there, she could see into both the kitchen and the living room, could see that 'bit of a mess' had been a bit of an understatement.
There were papers everywhere. Nearly every available surface was occupied by stacks of books, parchment scrolls, and what seemed to be old newspapers in varying shades of yellow. There were maps stuck to just about every wall that Minerva could see; portions had been circled in purple ink. There were things stuck to the walls: pebbles, bits of shell, feathers. Strings of shiny beads and butterbeer corks dangled from the ceiling.
It was a disaster.
"Lovegood," Minerva said heavily.
"Told you I was tidying up," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Tea?"
"Please." She would be surprised if he produced any clean cups, but given that he'd managed to keep his daughter and himself alive for the past eleven years, she had little fear of being poisoned inadvertently. "Where is the girl?" she asked as she followed Lovegood into the kitchen.
Lovegood opened a cupboard, peered inside for a moment, then looked blankly over his shoulder at Minerva.
"Your daughter?" she prompted. "If I recall, you were constantly misplacing your assignments. I should think you'd take greater care with-"
"Luna's about somewhere. Check under those piles of parchment."
Minerva goggled.
Lovegood's face broke into a surprisingly bright smile. "Nah, just taking the mickey outta you. She was in the back garden, last I time checked."
"Perhaps you should call her in."
Lovegood took two teacups out of the cupboard and set them on the counter. "Let's leave her be. She was writing something. She's young, but she's got a knack. We shouldn't interrupt."
Minerva looked at the thin, bowed shoulders, the feathery ends of his hair brushing the collar of his shirt, and sighed. "Lovegood, this won't do at all. You've got to send the girl to Hogwarts. It's the best thing for her."
Lovegood didn't turn or even look up. He said crisply, "She's my daughter."
"Explain to me," said Minerva, "how her going to Hogwarts alters that fact."
"It doesn't. But I think I know what's best for her."
"What do you propose to do if she doesn't go to Hogwarts?"
"I told you. In my letter."
"Tell me again. And please look at me."
Lovegood turned. His eyes and jaw were stubborn, but the words came cautiously, like errant children who suspected they were about to be caught. "I'll teach her. I wasn't such a bad student. She'll have her books and things from Diagon Alley, same as the ones going to Hogwarts."
"And things such as potions ingredients? Those are not easy to come by."
"I'll get them for her too," said Lovegood. "We’re not poor. The Quibbler's doing well."
"You were not a bad student," Minerva agreed, "but you can hardly call yourself an expert in every subject."
"No, I'm not. But I think - doesn't that prove my point, Professor? I was taught by experts, but I'm no expert, and I don't need to be. Neither does Luna. I told you she can write. She'll be writing for the Quibbler one day. She may even take over from me when I retire. What'll she need to know that I can't teach her?"
Organization, for one thing, Minerva thought. And how to make a pot of tea, it seems. The empty cups still stood on the counter, and there was no teapot in sight. She regarded Lovegood. It wasn't that he distrusted Hogwarts, she surmised; he loved his daughter and really thought he was doing what was best for her. He'd been her sole protector for so long; she supposed she could understand his reluctance to relegate responsibility.
"What about friends?" Minerva asked in a more gentle, reasonable tone. "She's got to have them."
"She's got friends. She's got a friend," Lovegood amended when Minerva pursed her lips. "Molly Weasley taught her basic things. Her and some of the other magic children from around here. She was friends with Molly's little girl. Friendly, I should say. Least, Molly's girl didn't bully Luna the way some of the others did. And that's the other thing," he added before Minerva could remind him that Ginevra Weasley would be leaving for Hogwarts in September. "Luna, she's…well, she's not like other girls her age. Nothing wrong with her, but she's got a tendency to… Well, other children, they've got a tendency to… I won't have her bullied. And she'll be bullied if she goes to Hogwarts."
"And who isn't bullied at some point?" Minerva asked pointedly. "You can't protect her from the world."
"Is there something wrong with trying?"
"Yes. With trying too hard," she added, though her exasperation was mounting. "Lovegood…" She shook her head. "You've got to let her go. You're limiting her opportunities, if you don't. It may be she doesn't make friends. It may be she decides to follow in your footsteps. But she's only eleven now, and you can't decide her future for her. That's not fair. I hardly think it's what your wife would have wanted."
Lovegood twitched.
Minerva bit her lip. She hadn't wanted to bring up Maykirtle.
Lovegood spoke slowly, in a low, croaky voice. "Lots of things've happened that I don't think Sylvia would've wanted."
"I know," Minerva said. "I'm sorry."
Lovegood shrugged. "She loved Hogwarts. Sylvia. I did too. All the same-"
"All the same," Minerva cut in, "there's the law."
That was another thing she hadn't wanted to bring up.
Lovegood seemed to deflate. He leaned back against the counter and lowered his gaze. "There is that."
"May I see Luna? Please. Never mind about the tea."
"I don't know where the teapot is, anyway," Lovegood admitted. "Luna's in the back garden. Or she was, last time I-"
"I know. May I?"
He gestured wordlessly, then followed her out of the house.
The back garden proved to be a small wilderness of uncut grass and tangled flowers. Minerva gave it a cursory scan, did not see anyone, and was about to return to the house, when a small, dreamy voice said, "You're Minerva McGonagall."
She glanced down sharply. The girl lay not four feet from where she stood, half-concealed by tall grass and little blue flowers.
"I am," Minerva said at length. "And you are Luna Lovegood."
"You're Albus Dumbledore's spy."
"Good heavens!"
"Luna," said her father, a bit helplessly.
"It's all right," Luna continued solemnly, her pale eyes never blinking. "He needs help. He has enemies. Especially in the Ministry."
Minerva straightened her shoulders. She would not be unnerved by one little girl. "You're right about him needing help, at any rate. And of course he has enemies. He fought a war; people who do that generally have enemies. Get up, child. I have something to ask you, and I can't while you're lying there."
"Why not?" Luna sounded genuinely curious.
"Because it's not polite," her father said. His voice was gruff; he knew that he had lost, Minerva thought without much satisfaction.
Luna made a face, but she pushed herself into a seated position. She had her mother's protuberant eyes, and her father's coloring; her long hair, which was approximately the color the grass would be in a few short months, was full of leaves, twigs, and petals. She looked quite wild, like a Muggle's idea of a fairy or elf. At least she appeared healthy, and her clothes were relatively clean; Lovegood might be a scatterbrain, but he looked after his daughter.
"But I might miss one," Luna said.
"Miss what?" asked Minerva. Geese? she wondered. Ducks?
"Nargles," was the answer. "They're migrating."
"Your father said you were writing."
"Oh, yes. I was," replied Luna. "But then I remembered it's almost September. Nargles fly north at the end of summer." She said it as though Minerva ought to know not only what Nargles were, but also their migratory patterns.
"Of course," said Minerva, looking askance at Lovegood, who shrugged. You're a lot of help, she thought sourly, then realized he had probably put the ridiculous idea of Nargles into Luna's head. She turned back to the girl.
Before she could speak, Luna said, "I'm going to Hogwarts." There was only the slightest bit of uncertainty in her tone.
"Yes," said her father.
"Yes," said Minerva.
"Good," Luna said, smiling vaguely. "I need to meet Harry Potter."
*
"She needs to warn him," Minerva said later, when she was back in the Headmaster's office. She nearly spilled her tea as she leaned forward. "Warn him. I asked her whatever about, and she started going on about these - things I've never even heard of. Made-up words. I wouldn't be surprised if she made them up right there. Gibbering Humthingers-"
"Blibbering Humdingers?" Albus asked, sipping his tea. "Oh, no. She didn't make those up."
"But they are made up," said Minerva.
"So far as anyone knows. But then, people are discovering new and fascinating things every day. Why, just this morning," he continued, smiling fondly, "I discovered a pair of yellow wellies that I'd completely forgotten existed. They were in the back of my wardrobe for years. I'd have taken them out, but a family of puffskeins had made a nest in them. So, you see."
"I'll reserve judgment," Minerva said stiffly, "until I encounter a Blibbering…whatever."
"Well, when the time comes, I hope you'll be prepared."
"I'm afraid I shall have to rely on my wand and my wits."
"Better to rely on a handful of vanilla beans. Blibbering Humdingers can't abide the taste or smell of vanilla."
"You made that up."
Albus toyed with the end of his beard. "It's entirely possible that I did. You will find out, I'm sure, should you ever encounter a Blibbering Humdinger."
"I worry about this girl," Minerva said earnestly. "Lovegood was right to want to protect her. Not that there's much he can do. Magical children must attend school, unless their education can be seen to by an adult witch or wizard approved of by the Ministry. And, given the sort of articles Lovegood's magazine publishes, can you see the Ministry-" She broke off, was silent for a moment, then said in a low voice, "I hadn't wanted to bring up the law. I'd hoped it wouldn't come to that, that he'd give up before I got to it, but he didn't."
"And you feel guilty?" asked Albus softly.
"A little. They're such an odd pair, but they've got each other. When she comes here… I just don't know."
"She may surprise you. People do, occasionally. Neither of us expected Neville Longbottom to stand up to his friends, after all. Or for…"
He went on, but she only half-listened. Her gaze drifted from his face to the open window. It was early evening, and moonlight flirted with the distant mountain peaks. A light breeze, laced with the scents of pine and heather, flew through the window and stirred the curtains and the Headermaster's long beard. The grounds seemed so quiet, so peaceful. In just a few days, they would be overrun with students, among them Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood.
"I hope she doesn't become a nuisance to him," Minerva said, having forgotten that Albus was still citing examples of unexpected occurrences.
"Who?" asked Albus. "Become a nuisance to whom?"
"The Lovegood girl. And Potter. I don't want her pressing him for - for interviews for that ridiculous magazine of her father's. He has enough to worry about."
"You don't think his second year will be easier than his first? I admit that Gilderoy Lockhart isn't the easiest person to like, but I am quite sure that he hasn't got Voldemort stuck to the back of his head."
Minerva shuddered slightly at the name. "I thought," she said, meeting Albus's gaze, "that we were supposed to expect the unexpected."
"We're supposed to try," said Albus. "It never works, but we can try. But, you know, I wouldn't be terribly surprised if it turns out that Luna Lovegood belongs here, and that she's more help than hindrance to all of us."
Minerva sipped her tea and kept her doubts to herself.
*
She was secretly relieved when Luna was Sorted into Ravenclaw. It had been her mother's house, and Filius would be patient. After that, outside Transfiguration, Minerva paid little attention to Luna until her fourth year, when the Ministry foisted Dolores Umbridge on Hogwarts.
Then Harry Potter spoke to the Quibber, apparently of his own volition, and it proved a clever move because - for reasons Minerva could not fathom - a good portion of the public actually believed the story.
"And it was written by that Skeeter creature," she said to Albus at the end of that year, as they stood in his office, watching from his window as students moved through the front gate and toward the thestral-drawn carriages that would take them to the Hogwarts Express. "Sometimes I think that people will believe anything, as long as it's in print. And as long as it says something negative about someone else."
"The important thing," Albus said, "is that it's the truth and it's believed." He sounded old and far away. Minerva knew that Sirius Black's death weighed heavily on him, but she would not talk to him about it because she could not bear to speak of it herself. Not yet.
And Luna had gone to the Department of Mysteries with Potter and the others. Minerva wondered what Lovegood would think when he found out. He had been so worried about school bullies, she remembered; had he even considered Death Eaters as a threat to his daughter? Or that she might run headlong into the danger?
Minerva half-expected him to pull Luna from Hogwarts the next year, but he did not. Luna arrived on the first of September with the other students, prattling - Minerva overheard - about Crumple-horned Snorkacks or some such nonsense.
And she stayed. Even when many of her fellow classmates were removed by their parents. Even after that terrible night when Death Eaters broke into the school. Even after Albus-
Standing by his tomb shortly after the funeral, while summer sunlight warmed her shoulders, Minerva felt utterly adrift. Voldemort was gaining power. Snape had betrayed them. Hogwarts might not open again in September. Her bones quaked. She longed for everyone to be gone, so she could sink to her knees and just…
She did not know what she would do when she was alone and that, somehow, frightened her more than anything else. She would pull herself together again. After some time had passed. After the things clattering inside her had come out. But a chasm had opened at her feet, between now and later, and she did not know how to cross it.
"I never expected this," she said quietly to the tomb. "You told me once to expect the unexpected. To try, at least. But this… I never thought. I never wanted to think that this might happen. It was very foolish of me." Even the rueful smile hurt.
Looking up, she saw Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom, seated together on the grass, some yards away. Luna's head was on Neville's shoulder. They seemed to be talking, but Minerva could not hear them. After a time, Ginny Weasley plopped down beside them.
"I suspect," Minerva said, "that we'll muddle along. I don't expect us to win - though we may, yet - but I hope."
Luna opened her eyes. Their gazes met over Albus's tomb. Minerva glimpsed something in them - an intensity that she had not seen before. Deep water below the mist, stars behind the clouds. Luna would fight as hard as any of them, Minerva realized. She wished now that she had taken the time to get to know the girl better. She had so many regrets.
But perhaps there was still time; it was not yet the end.
08/31/06
Fandom: HP
Rating: PG
Summary: Osric Lovegood is reluctant to send his daughter to Hogwarts. Dumbledore sends Minerva to straighten things out.
A/N: For quinquatrus's New Term challenge. (Prompt: Minerva's friendship (or attempts to bond) with a non-Gryffindor child.) Approx. 3,000 words. Many thanks to lyras for the proofread.
While Minerva waited with increasing impatience for Osric Lovegood to open the door, she tried to remember what he’d been like as a student. The word fanciful came to mind before the color of his hair. He’d had a lively imagination; when they’d worked, his transfigurations had always been rather…interesting. But he’d had an unfortunate tendency to drift off in class. Gullible too, and given to spreading rumors, not out of malice but because - Pomona Sprout, Lovegood’s Head of House, had informed her once - he thought the other students had the right to know.
How he’d managed to get Sylvia Maykirtle - one of Hogwarts’s best minds, shadowed only by the wildfire Potter and Black - to marry him was quite beyond Minerva’s own modest imagination. She remembered Sylvia well enough: a plain girl, but sharp as a tack, good-natured, well liked. She had loved to experiment. At first she’d only made slight modifications to easy charms and potions. “Just mucking about,” she’d say absently as silvery fish bobbed drunkenly around her head, or as the liquid in her goblet turned from orange to red to an alarming lavender.
Later, she’d started inventing her own spells.
Such a shame about the accident. And a shame that the little girl, Luna, had witnessed it. Minerva had seen her share of terrible things during the war with Voldemort and his minions, but at least she had been spared the agony of watching someone she loved die.
Minerva frowned. What in Merlin's name was keeping Lovegood? She rapped on his door, more insistently this time. He had to be home; the windows were lighted, and besides, she had told him that she would be in Devon at this hour.
She heard a loud clatter, followed by a thud, muffled only slightly by the heavy wooden door, and raised her eyebrows. At length, there was the sound of a lock being undone, and then the door was opened a crack, and she caught a glimpse of pale cheek and messy sandy hair.
"Lovegood?"
"Professor McGonagall," came the shaky voice. "Um. Sorry. Was just tidying up. Bit of a mess, I'm afraid. Forgot you were coming, or I'd have-"
"Taken pains to be elsewhere?" Minerva asked sharply. "Step aside, Lovegood. I came all this way to talk with you, and I don't intend to do it on your doorstep."
It was good that he moved quickly, for she had lost all patience. She pushed the door open the rest of the way, and strode into the front corridor. From there, she could see into both the kitchen and the living room, could see that 'bit of a mess' had been a bit of an understatement.
There were papers everywhere. Nearly every available surface was occupied by stacks of books, parchment scrolls, and what seemed to be old newspapers in varying shades of yellow. There were maps stuck to just about every wall that Minerva could see; portions had been circled in purple ink. There were things stuck to the walls: pebbles, bits of shell, feathers. Strings of shiny beads and butterbeer corks dangled from the ceiling.
It was a disaster.
"Lovegood," Minerva said heavily.
"Told you I was tidying up," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Tea?"
"Please." She would be surprised if he produced any clean cups, but given that he'd managed to keep his daughter and himself alive for the past eleven years, she had little fear of being poisoned inadvertently. "Where is the girl?" she asked as she followed Lovegood into the kitchen.
Lovegood opened a cupboard, peered inside for a moment, then looked blankly over his shoulder at Minerva.
"Your daughter?" she prompted. "If I recall, you were constantly misplacing your assignments. I should think you'd take greater care with-"
"Luna's about somewhere. Check under those piles of parchment."
Minerva goggled.
Lovegood's face broke into a surprisingly bright smile. "Nah, just taking the mickey outta you. She was in the back garden, last I time checked."
"Perhaps you should call her in."
Lovegood took two teacups out of the cupboard and set them on the counter. "Let's leave her be. She was writing something. She's young, but she's got a knack. We shouldn't interrupt."
Minerva looked at the thin, bowed shoulders, the feathery ends of his hair brushing the collar of his shirt, and sighed. "Lovegood, this won't do at all. You've got to send the girl to Hogwarts. It's the best thing for her."
Lovegood didn't turn or even look up. He said crisply, "She's my daughter."
"Explain to me," said Minerva, "how her going to Hogwarts alters that fact."
"It doesn't. But I think I know what's best for her."
"What do you propose to do if she doesn't go to Hogwarts?"
"I told you. In my letter."
"Tell me again. And please look at me."
Lovegood turned. His eyes and jaw were stubborn, but the words came cautiously, like errant children who suspected they were about to be caught. "I'll teach her. I wasn't such a bad student. She'll have her books and things from Diagon Alley, same as the ones going to Hogwarts."
"And things such as potions ingredients? Those are not easy to come by."
"I'll get them for her too," said Lovegood. "We’re not poor. The Quibbler's doing well."
"You were not a bad student," Minerva agreed, "but you can hardly call yourself an expert in every subject."
"No, I'm not. But I think - doesn't that prove my point, Professor? I was taught by experts, but I'm no expert, and I don't need to be. Neither does Luna. I told you she can write. She'll be writing for the Quibbler one day. She may even take over from me when I retire. What'll she need to know that I can't teach her?"
Organization, for one thing, Minerva thought. And how to make a pot of tea, it seems. The empty cups still stood on the counter, and there was no teapot in sight. She regarded Lovegood. It wasn't that he distrusted Hogwarts, she surmised; he loved his daughter and really thought he was doing what was best for her. He'd been her sole protector for so long; she supposed she could understand his reluctance to relegate responsibility.
"What about friends?" Minerva asked in a more gentle, reasonable tone. "She's got to have them."
"She's got friends. She's got a friend," Lovegood amended when Minerva pursed her lips. "Molly Weasley taught her basic things. Her and some of the other magic children from around here. She was friends with Molly's little girl. Friendly, I should say. Least, Molly's girl didn't bully Luna the way some of the others did. And that's the other thing," he added before Minerva could remind him that Ginevra Weasley would be leaving for Hogwarts in September. "Luna, she's…well, she's not like other girls her age. Nothing wrong with her, but she's got a tendency to… Well, other children, they've got a tendency to… I won't have her bullied. And she'll be bullied if she goes to Hogwarts."
"And who isn't bullied at some point?" Minerva asked pointedly. "You can't protect her from the world."
"Is there something wrong with trying?"
"Yes. With trying too hard," she added, though her exasperation was mounting. "Lovegood…" She shook her head. "You've got to let her go. You're limiting her opportunities, if you don't. It may be she doesn't make friends. It may be she decides to follow in your footsteps. But she's only eleven now, and you can't decide her future for her. That's not fair. I hardly think it's what your wife would have wanted."
Lovegood twitched.
Minerva bit her lip. She hadn't wanted to bring up Maykirtle.
Lovegood spoke slowly, in a low, croaky voice. "Lots of things've happened that I don't think Sylvia would've wanted."
"I know," Minerva said. "I'm sorry."
Lovegood shrugged. "She loved Hogwarts. Sylvia. I did too. All the same-"
"All the same," Minerva cut in, "there's the law."
That was another thing she hadn't wanted to bring up.
Lovegood seemed to deflate. He leaned back against the counter and lowered his gaze. "There is that."
"May I see Luna? Please. Never mind about the tea."
"I don't know where the teapot is, anyway," Lovegood admitted. "Luna's in the back garden. Or she was, last time I-"
"I know. May I?"
He gestured wordlessly, then followed her out of the house.
The back garden proved to be a small wilderness of uncut grass and tangled flowers. Minerva gave it a cursory scan, did not see anyone, and was about to return to the house, when a small, dreamy voice said, "You're Minerva McGonagall."
She glanced down sharply. The girl lay not four feet from where she stood, half-concealed by tall grass and little blue flowers.
"I am," Minerva said at length. "And you are Luna Lovegood."
"You're Albus Dumbledore's spy."
"Good heavens!"
"Luna," said her father, a bit helplessly.
"It's all right," Luna continued solemnly, her pale eyes never blinking. "He needs help. He has enemies. Especially in the Ministry."
Minerva straightened her shoulders. She would not be unnerved by one little girl. "You're right about him needing help, at any rate. And of course he has enemies. He fought a war; people who do that generally have enemies. Get up, child. I have something to ask you, and I can't while you're lying there."
"Why not?" Luna sounded genuinely curious.
"Because it's not polite," her father said. His voice was gruff; he knew that he had lost, Minerva thought without much satisfaction.
Luna made a face, but she pushed herself into a seated position. She had her mother's protuberant eyes, and her father's coloring; her long hair, which was approximately the color the grass would be in a few short months, was full of leaves, twigs, and petals. She looked quite wild, like a Muggle's idea of a fairy or elf. At least she appeared healthy, and her clothes were relatively clean; Lovegood might be a scatterbrain, but he looked after his daughter.
"But I might miss one," Luna said.
"Miss what?" asked Minerva. Geese? she wondered. Ducks?
"Nargles," was the answer. "They're migrating."
"Your father said you were writing."
"Oh, yes. I was," replied Luna. "But then I remembered it's almost September. Nargles fly north at the end of summer." She said it as though Minerva ought to know not only what Nargles were, but also their migratory patterns.
"Of course," said Minerva, looking askance at Lovegood, who shrugged. You're a lot of help, she thought sourly, then realized he had probably put the ridiculous idea of Nargles into Luna's head. She turned back to the girl.
Before she could speak, Luna said, "I'm going to Hogwarts." There was only the slightest bit of uncertainty in her tone.
"Yes," said her father.
"Yes," said Minerva.
"Good," Luna said, smiling vaguely. "I need to meet Harry Potter."
*
"She needs to warn him," Minerva said later, when she was back in the Headmaster's office. She nearly spilled her tea as she leaned forward. "Warn him. I asked her whatever about, and she started going on about these - things I've never even heard of. Made-up words. I wouldn't be surprised if she made them up right there. Gibbering Humthingers-"
"Blibbering Humdingers?" Albus asked, sipping his tea. "Oh, no. She didn't make those up."
"But they are made up," said Minerva.
"So far as anyone knows. But then, people are discovering new and fascinating things every day. Why, just this morning," he continued, smiling fondly, "I discovered a pair of yellow wellies that I'd completely forgotten existed. They were in the back of my wardrobe for years. I'd have taken them out, but a family of puffskeins had made a nest in them. So, you see."
"I'll reserve judgment," Minerva said stiffly, "until I encounter a Blibbering…whatever."
"Well, when the time comes, I hope you'll be prepared."
"I'm afraid I shall have to rely on my wand and my wits."
"Better to rely on a handful of vanilla beans. Blibbering Humdingers can't abide the taste or smell of vanilla."
"You made that up."
Albus toyed with the end of his beard. "It's entirely possible that I did. You will find out, I'm sure, should you ever encounter a Blibbering Humdinger."
"I worry about this girl," Minerva said earnestly. "Lovegood was right to want to protect her. Not that there's much he can do. Magical children must attend school, unless their education can be seen to by an adult witch or wizard approved of by the Ministry. And, given the sort of articles Lovegood's magazine publishes, can you see the Ministry-" She broke off, was silent for a moment, then said in a low voice, "I hadn't wanted to bring up the law. I'd hoped it wouldn't come to that, that he'd give up before I got to it, but he didn't."
"And you feel guilty?" asked Albus softly.
"A little. They're such an odd pair, but they've got each other. When she comes here… I just don't know."
"She may surprise you. People do, occasionally. Neither of us expected Neville Longbottom to stand up to his friends, after all. Or for…"
He went on, but she only half-listened. Her gaze drifted from his face to the open window. It was early evening, and moonlight flirted with the distant mountain peaks. A light breeze, laced with the scents of pine and heather, flew through the window and stirred the curtains and the Headermaster's long beard. The grounds seemed so quiet, so peaceful. In just a few days, they would be overrun with students, among them Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood.
"I hope she doesn't become a nuisance to him," Minerva said, having forgotten that Albus was still citing examples of unexpected occurrences.
"Who?" asked Albus. "Become a nuisance to whom?"
"The Lovegood girl. And Potter. I don't want her pressing him for - for interviews for that ridiculous magazine of her father's. He has enough to worry about."
"You don't think his second year will be easier than his first? I admit that Gilderoy Lockhart isn't the easiest person to like, but I am quite sure that he hasn't got Voldemort stuck to the back of his head."
Minerva shuddered slightly at the name. "I thought," she said, meeting Albus's gaze, "that we were supposed to expect the unexpected."
"We're supposed to try," said Albus. "It never works, but we can try. But, you know, I wouldn't be terribly surprised if it turns out that Luna Lovegood belongs here, and that she's more help than hindrance to all of us."
Minerva sipped her tea and kept her doubts to herself.
*
She was secretly relieved when Luna was Sorted into Ravenclaw. It had been her mother's house, and Filius would be patient. After that, outside Transfiguration, Minerva paid little attention to Luna until her fourth year, when the Ministry foisted Dolores Umbridge on Hogwarts.
Then Harry Potter spoke to the Quibber, apparently of his own volition, and it proved a clever move because - for reasons Minerva could not fathom - a good portion of the public actually believed the story.
"And it was written by that Skeeter creature," she said to Albus at the end of that year, as they stood in his office, watching from his window as students moved through the front gate and toward the thestral-drawn carriages that would take them to the Hogwarts Express. "Sometimes I think that people will believe anything, as long as it's in print. And as long as it says something negative about someone else."
"The important thing," Albus said, "is that it's the truth and it's believed." He sounded old and far away. Minerva knew that Sirius Black's death weighed heavily on him, but she would not talk to him about it because she could not bear to speak of it herself. Not yet.
And Luna had gone to the Department of Mysteries with Potter and the others. Minerva wondered what Lovegood would think when he found out. He had been so worried about school bullies, she remembered; had he even considered Death Eaters as a threat to his daughter? Or that she might run headlong into the danger?
Minerva half-expected him to pull Luna from Hogwarts the next year, but he did not. Luna arrived on the first of September with the other students, prattling - Minerva overheard - about Crumple-horned Snorkacks or some such nonsense.
And she stayed. Even when many of her fellow classmates were removed by their parents. Even after that terrible night when Death Eaters broke into the school. Even after Albus-
Standing by his tomb shortly after the funeral, while summer sunlight warmed her shoulders, Minerva felt utterly adrift. Voldemort was gaining power. Snape had betrayed them. Hogwarts might not open again in September. Her bones quaked. She longed for everyone to be gone, so she could sink to her knees and just…
She did not know what she would do when she was alone and that, somehow, frightened her more than anything else. She would pull herself together again. After some time had passed. After the things clattering inside her had come out. But a chasm had opened at her feet, between now and later, and she did not know how to cross it.
"I never expected this," she said quietly to the tomb. "You told me once to expect the unexpected. To try, at least. But this… I never thought. I never wanted to think that this might happen. It was very foolish of me." Even the rueful smile hurt.
Looking up, she saw Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom, seated together on the grass, some yards away. Luna's head was on Neville's shoulder. They seemed to be talking, but Minerva could not hear them. After a time, Ginny Weasley plopped down beside them.
"I suspect," Minerva said, "that we'll muddle along. I don't expect us to win - though we may, yet - but I hope."
Luna opened her eyes. Their gazes met over Albus's tomb. Minerva glimpsed something in them - an intensity that she had not seen before. Deep water below the mist, stars behind the clouds. Luna would fight as hard as any of them, Minerva realized. She wished now that she had taken the time to get to know the girl better. She had so many regrets.
But perhaps there was still time; it was not yet the end.
08/31/06