InsaneJournal

Who: Claire Rookwood and Minerva McGonagall
What: A meeting
Where: Hogwarts
When: Sunday April 5th, teatime (backdated)
Status/Rating: Complete/PG



It had started again.

Of that, Claire had no doubt. The rise of the so-called Lady Noir, the ominous hints in the Prophet, Gabe’s visions- it all added up. The war they’d all thought over more than a decade ago was going to blossom once more.

She hadn’t wanted to be involved. Not this time. She didn’t need to be; she’d never been a true member of the Order of the Phoenix, and the only person who’d known of her involvement- her brief, intense, fruitless involvement- was long dead at the end of the enemy’s wand. There was no reason for her to get involved, and plenty of reasons for her not to: her comfortable life, her son’s future, her husband’s long-ago drunken confession and drunken remorse.

It was the latter, actually, which spurred her on, the fly in the ointment; Augustus’s old remorse, Gabe’s current vision-spawned anxiety over Augustus. That, and Connor’s shade, haunting her own less-prophetic dreams.

Maybe, just maybe, she could do something to help end this before it got too far.

Of course, given the fact that Albus Dumbledore was dead, that was a complicated prospect. She had never known for sure who was a part of the Order outside of its leader, nor had she wanted to. She could make a few educated guesses, though. The best of them was Minerva McGonagall. And with a son still at Hogwarts, Claire had an excuse to speak to the Headmistress, at least.

She Apparated to Hogsmeade and walked to the school in time for tea and the appointed meeting.


Minerva couldn't, in practicality, keep up with every student she'd ever taught- the number was too great, by now. But despite that, her memory was as sharp as ever- so when Claire Macmillan (no, no, Rookwood) had requested tea with her, Minerva could remember many of their previous interactions- as student and teacher, as adults, and even as teacher and parent. Still, that quick-recall gave Minerva no hint as to what this tea time might truly be about- Lucas was in no danger, academically, certainly not to warrant a parental visit at least. What, then?

She would find out soon enough, of course, so there was no sense in making a fuss over the myriad of possibilities. Instead she was waiting in her office for Claire's arrival, the tea already set to brewing, her demeanor calm and collected as ever. A wave of her hand opened the door just before Claire would have knocked- a trick that had infuriated her, when Albus used to do it, but one she had adopted some time ago as an unspoken sort of homage. "Come in, my dear."


Claire lowered the hand she had raised to knock and did her best to ignore the sudden, vivid onslaught of deja vu brought about by Minerva’s preemptory greeting. It was an echo of Albus down to the wording, and she really could not decide if that was comforting or exactly the opposite.

She stepped through and shut the door behind herself gently before moving to stand in front of the Headmistress’s desk, trying not to feel so much like a naughty student suddenly summoned for accounting. She had never been such in her own school days, but the implication was vivid enough to be off-putting, and Claire found herself taking a seat without being asked just to banish it.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Professor,” she said once sitting. “I’m sure you have much better things to be doing with your holiday from the students, so I will do my best to keep this brief, if you’ll indulge me?”


Minerva made her way back behind her desk and poured tea for both Claire and herself, though she didn't move to drink her own just yet. There was sugar and milk, should she want either, but Minerva was more interested in finding out just why Claire had called this meeting than any pretense of tea.

"I make time for a great many things out of necessity, some more pleasant than others," Minerva offered. "But I can assure you, Claire, I have never thought you to be anything but the former. No indulgences necessary."


“You’re very kind,” Claire said as she reached to add milk to her tea. No sugar; the slight bitter tang of an unsweetened cuppa was what she wanted now. She took a moment to glance around the office, her lips quirking in the hint of a smile at the familiarity of the office. Minerva had made changes since Albus’s day; that was only to be expected. Still, there was something faintly Dumbledorian about the space even now. It was oddly comforting.

“You open the door just as he did,” she pointed out after her first dainty sip. “Before one can knock.It unsettles me less now, I must admit, but I do hope it still knocks the children off-guard.”

Odd words for a woman who had promised to keep this brief, perhaps, but there was no truly graceful segue into why she was here. Bringing Albus Dumbledore up was a start.


Having changed her mind about tea- milk and sugar, but small portions of both- Minerva took a sip and offered a bemused smile at Claire's observation. "It was one of several things that I felt I should keep, when I took over this office." (Because, yes, more than just the Head position, this office itself had held its own magics, layer upon layer, after years of Dumbledore's occupancy.) "I would be remiss if I did not admit that I quite enjoy that first startled glance on my students' faces, yes."


Claire’s smile at that was genuine, though mostly hidden in her teacup as she took a polite little sip. “I can hardly blame you. It can’t be easy keeping so many teenagers on their toes. Perhaps I’ll take up the habit at home; I’m sure it would drive Lucas to distraction.”

She set her cup down carefully and looked up to catch Minerva’s eye, head tilted ever-so-slightly in inquiry. “I wonder, Headmistress, if there is anything else you took over for Albus Dumbledore, aside from this office and the managing of students.”


There were any number of things to which Claire might have been alluding, but… somehow- perhaps it was just the air of the conversation- Minerva had a very strong sense as to the unspoken truth. Her own teacup was set back down in front of her- with hardly a sound, no clattering of cups and saucers here- and Minerva took a minute to study the woman in front of her. Claire's marriage was a well-known thing, of course, and a wary consideration- but this was tempered by Minerva's knowledge of Claire herself.

Finally, having come to some silent conclusion, Minerva offered a simple nod. "Yes, I have."


Claire nodded, just the once; that she'd been heard, understood, and answered in kind was obvious. For a moment the set of her shoulders loosened into something that might have been relief or might have been its opposite. Then they squared again, and she smiled just a little before continuing.

"There was a time when I offered my aid to Dumbledore in a certain capacity, little as it was. I had- have- certain connections. In my job, in my life." Purposefully vague, here; Claire had no intention of throwing Augustus to the wolves. Not anymore. That had been the idea, once, but between that time and this things had changed. A life had been built. She'd seen her husband's remorse, once, on the night when the first war had ended, seen his secrets and his pain, and she had made her peace with them. That wasn't what this was about.

His friends, though. To them she had no loyalty, and less compassion. Monsters, the lot of them. Let them burn, all the more so if they were drawing Augustus back in, as she suspected and feared and all but knew they were. They could go to hell, and perhaps she could help send them there.

"I would offer it again," she added, reaching again for the teacup. "If only I knew who to offer it to."


This wasn't the first of Albus' secrets to be revealed to Minerva posthumously, and she highly doubted that it would be the last. (The depth to which he kept them, after all, was seemingly endless.) Still, Minerva was well practiced at guarding her emotions- so whatever surprise she might have held at the admission, it was shown in little more than an interested smile over the edge of her teacup.

"Connections, such that they are, are always a useful thing to have- clearly I don't have to tell you that." Having had a moment for the ideas to settle, the cogs were already turning, slowly but surely. "I think such a capacity could certainly prove useful, and perhaps sooner rather than later. But tell me, Claire," and now Minerva set her tea down again, choosing her words very carefully, "if a larger capacity were… offered, would it be something you might choose?"

They were dancing around the subject, of course- but that was often the way of things, when Membership in the Order of the Phoenix was concerned.


There was a time when Claire would have declined that offer outright, if it had been made; she’d been, back then, too angry, too volatile, too hell-bent on revenge to care about the Order and what it stood for.

She was a different woman now; older, and, she flattered herself, a modicum wiser. The sharp ache of grief had been dulled by time, and with it her fury. Her anger now was of a different sort- slower, quieter, less all-consuming. The threat was back, and how dare it be back? How dare it try to haunt their lives again when they’d all thought the battles done and laid to rest?

It might not have mattered, not enough for her to get involved, certainly not enough for her to get involved more deeply than she’d ever been the first time around. But: there was Lucas. Lucas, who was seventeen. Lucas, who was an adult and about to be freed from the cocoon of Hogwarts School. Lucas, who was only a few years younger than Connor had been when he died.

Claire’s son was a very different young man than her cousin had been, yes. He cared more for pretty girls than the politics of purity. But that might change. The Death Eaters might come calling, courting the son of a Marked father.

Or they might not. They might not, but Lucas might be walking down the wrong road one day and end up dead with a Dark Mark in the sky.

And there was part of Claire that thought it might be karma if it did happen, for all of the lies she’d told and secrets she’d kept, for all of the lives Augustus had had a hand in ending. The universe would enact its price for the darkness in their lives eventually; better that she try to make some sort of amends before that came to pass.

“Yes,” she said calmly, meeting Minerva’s gaze without flinching. “Indeed it might.”


Minerva was pleased with Claire's response- and doubly so that it hadn't come out quickly, which hinted that the woman had considered it carefully rather than rushing to judgment. It was a delicate and dangerous undertaking, even tentative as it stood now, but Minerva wouldn't have brought it up if she hadn't thought Claire could handle it. A faint upturn at the corners of her lips was the only hint as to her reaction, however, beyond another simple nod.

"Good. We will be in contact with you." The promise was vague- if not altogether ominous- but Minerva wouldn't give further details just yet. Not without speaking with the others. "I'm glad you've come to see me today."


Claire nodded, relaxing minutely and taking another delicate sip of tea. "As am I. This has been more productive than I hoped it might." She smiled and laid her cup down again. "Now tell me, how is my son doing academically? Well, I trust?"

It wasn't what she'd come to discuss, not remotely, but the subject would give them both plausible deniability.