"Mister Weasley," Minerva had the uncanny ability to speak to any former student as if they were still eleven years old and coming into her classroom late, but it was not a habit she was looking to change.
She stood, extended a hand to him to wave him toward the seat directly across from hers across the expanse of the Headmaster's desk. "Sit, please." And when he had, she sat as well. "I was pleased to hear that you had returned from Romania. Do you intend to stay?" She was never one to beat around the bush, but in this instance she felt she should know his plans before asking him to change them.