Minerva winced. "I think I'd prefer pimples."
"For four-hundred years?"
They walked on, Minerva pointing out interesting things as they walked along. "So tell me, Dragon, what do you think of us here?"
"Nice school. Good people all."
"You're not bothered by the titles 'witch' and 'wizard'?"
"Those two titles are the most misused, misunderstood, and misapplied titles mankind ever devised. My mother was an herbalist, and she was burned at the stake as a witch in a day and age when the church forbade any knowledge that wasn't from the Bible."
"The Dark Ages," Minerva sighed sadly. "Not nearly as romantic as the novels make them out to be. One wasn't allowed to read the Bible while at the same time punished for thinking outside its pages. How very logical."
"Not that we're much better today."
"Sadly, no. So you're not put off over the word 'magic', either?"
"What is 'magic' but something that happens that the average person can't explain?" He smiled. "There are, in this world, two types of unexplainable events we call 'magic'. One is 'religious magic'; humans calling upon gods or demons to do something. And I haven't seen any demon worship here, young lady."
"Let me show you this room, then," Minerva said as she pushed opened a set of stained glass doors and they stepped into a room of dazzling white marble and a baroque-painted ceiling. As large as the great hall in which the school dined, the Hogwarts Chapel was as serene, silent, and sacred as any chapel or cathedral Jacob had ever seen, and he'd seen many and even helped build a few. Beautifully-carved oak pews filed the room, hymnals all in place for the worshipper's use. Light was pouring through the large stained glass windows, setting the paintings and the marble afire with light and color. The couple entered the room and made their way down the aisle so Jacob could take in the whole room. "The students have formed quite the chapel choir; I wish you could hear them. A young first year student - Charlie Weasely - what a voice! It'll be a shame when his voice changes. And the organ! More pipes than any other in Britain."
"How many chaplains does the school employ?"
"None, actually. With as many denominations represented among our students as there are, we simply have a hymn-singing service. It's remarkable how hymns unite members of all faiths together for the time our service lasts, and we often go well over-time." She smiled and her eyes snapped. “Almost like magic.”
Jacob was impressed.
"So, since we don't seem to be calling upon demons or false gods in this school," Minerva said with a tight smile as they continued down the aisle, Jacob trying to take in all the paintings at once, "What if it's an action He," and she nodded ahead of them, towards the chapel altar," What if it's something He does?"
"I love the word 'miracle'. It reminds us that even with all we understand and can do today, He,” and he also motioned at the chapel altar, “He knows and can do so much more."
"So, what is the second form of magic, then? The non-demon-inspired variety?"
"I call it 'scientific magic.' There are certain people who simply have 'the feel' or 'the knack' or 'the touch'… "
"Or, 'the gift'?"
"Yes; the gift - to be able to manipulate the natural laws with which He created the world."
"So we're 'manipulators', are we? Well, I've certainly been called worse."
"Tell me - does the organ play itself?"
"Yes. Just lay a manuscript on the stand, choose your stops, and start conducting to get the beat and tempo you wish." Jacob's fingers went down the spines of several music manuscripts on the shelves next to the organ console and quickly chose one he'd not heard in many, many years. He chose his stops and showed the organ the tempo he desired. The rest, as Dumbledore has been known to say: "Ah, music - a greater magic than anything we do here."
PART FOUR: Lend Me Your Shawl
Minerva had school business to attend to most mornings, but she kept her afternoons as open as possible to spend with the Dragon. They visited Hogsmeade several times a week and even went for picnics. She was determined to not be a giddy little schoolgirl, but it had also been a very long time since such a good-looking man had paid her any personal attention.
If Minerva thought she had a secret, though, she was living in the wrong world! The entire school staff was whispering behind her back, and all of Hogsmeade was following the ‘we're just friends’ association with a gusto that would have made Rita Skeeter look like an apprentice reporter. Just the sight of the two of them strolling up and down High Street set Madam Rosmerta giggling like a school girl every time they passed by the Three Broomsticks pub.
"Have you ever been married?" Minerva blurted out one day while sitting and sipping a drink under the attentive eye of Madam Rosmerta, quickly blushing over her forwardness.
"Six times," Jacob replied. "I was faithful to each until the day they died."
"As it should be," Minerva nodded approvingly.
"And you?"
"I was engaged once." She sighed. "Left standing at the altar. I was humiliated, as you can imagine. I lost my taste for marriage that day."
"Certainly his loss!"
"How kind of you… "
"To tell the truth? You're a good woman and deserve all the happiness you can have in this life. Somewhere out there is a good man worthy of you. Hopefully someday he'll stumble across Hogwarts… "
Minerva treasured those words the rest of the day, as she knew a Dragon would never lie.
One evening Jacob was not to be found in the castle at supper time, and upon inquiry Hagrid informed Minerva that he had seen the Dragon walking alone on the path to the Lookout, a quiet, private place on a cliff overlooking the loch. All the teachers knew the place - it was where sweethearts went to be alone, and every one of them had to retrieve a student or two each year before teenage hormones simmered too long and came to a boil. Minerva pretended to be interested in supper and excused herself as soon as she could, stopping at her office to put a shawl around her shoulders before taking the walk to the Lookout, suspecting at the same time that the rest of the staff were placing bets on the outcome of her evening.
Jacob was seated on the bench usually occupied by young sweethearts, wearing his kilt and plain white shirt. His hair was undone and blowing with the evening breeze. His profile, to put it bluntly, took Minerva's breath away. She stepped back down the path, catching her breath and muttering to herself, wondering what on earth she was doing there and what if anyone ever found out and what would he think of her.
Fifteen minutes after Minerva had first spotted Jacob, he was still sitting on the bench alone, enjoying the coming sunset. He turned his head at the sound of an attention-getting 'meow', and smiled as a fully-grown cat jumped up onto the bench beside him.
"Well, hello, Gorgeous," Jacob said as he scooped up the cat and began to scratch its neck and slowly pet its back. The cat, in return, found a comfortable place on the man's lap, closed its eyes, and purred loudly.
All eyes were on the school entrance as Jacob returned to the castle - alone. What they didn't know was that the cat knew cat-sized entries into the castle none of them were thinking to watch. She was not going to give anyone the satisfaction of winning a betting pool.
A few mornings later Jacob was having a working breakfast with Professor Dumbledore in the Headmaster's office. He told him about the cat that had been coming from the forest for the past several evenings to sit with him.
"Describe this cat to me," asked the headmaster, and Jacob did so, a broad smile coming across his host's face and his eyes twinkling.
"You know this cat?"
"I do."
"Does it have a name?"
"It does."
Jacob waited for Dumbledore to divulge the name, but the man just continued smiling.
"Well… ?"
"I will tell you only with the promise that you never indicate in anyway to anyone from whom you learned it."
"Agreed."
"The cat's na
me is Minerva."
There was a moment's pause in the conversation while comprehension came across Jacob's face. "As in - your transfiguration teacher?'
"The very same."
"A-h," was Jacob's only reply. But then Dumbledore's smile and twinkling eyes spilled over on to Jacob's face.
“I am compelled to ask what your intentions are towards my teacher … and my friend."
Jacob paused and answered slowly. "An innocent summer romance. Nothing more; nothing less. Something to remind her that she's worth being loved by someone."
Dumbledore smiled and nodded. It was obvious Jacob had answered correctly.
"Professor, could you help me with something?"
"I dare say I could."
That evening Jacob was waiting at the Lookout as he had been for several evenings. The cat approached with its usual meow and purr, settling on his lap for the expected neck and back rub, and Jacob obliged the cat the treat for several minutes. Finally he stood up, holding the purring cat in both hands against his bare chest, and smiled mischievously.
Quicker than the cat could react the human became a dragon, and with kilt left behind they were soaring over the long, deep loch and toward a small island a mile away which was rarely visited. The cat did not take to this kindly and was trying its best to claw its way out of the dragon's grasp, which, considering a cat's dislike of water, was a very foolish thing to do.
The golden Dragon landed lightly on the little island, right next to a small dining table with two chairs, a simple candelabra lighting the bone white china and the shining crystal glasses awaiting the diners. Cat and Dragon transfigured at much the same time, and Minerva was neither silent or calm about the shock she'd received in finding herself suddenly flying. Jacob, however, had crouched down to keep his privates private and was listening meekly to a stream of words I'll not record. But when she'd almost finished her venting, Jacob spoke up.
"Lend me your shawl. Please."
"Why should I?" She was still angry.
"When you transfigure, good Lady, you have the ability to bring your clothes along. I don't have that ability and didn't think that far ahead."
"Would serve you right if I don't! And who told you? Who gave me away… ?"
"Can't tell; promised."
Minerva shot an angry look towards the castle and Jacob thought he heard the name 'Albus' hissing from the woman's mouth. But Jacob could see humor working its way into Minerva's eyes.
"Very well," he said in mock meekness. "I'll just get your chair for you, then… "
"No you won't and we both know it! Here," and she swung her shawl off her shoulders and toward the still-crouching gentleman. Right at that moment, however, two house elves appeared from nowhere, one to seat Minerva and one to hand Jacob a shiny green robe.
"Thank you, Albus," Jacob whispered to himself, embarrassed.
"You're welcome," whispered Professor Dumbledore, standing atop the Astronomy tower with an eye to his telescope - few knew he was an expert lip reader; many a student would be horrified to learn just how much their headmaster learned while watching the students during meals in the great hall.
"We will be waiting on you this evening," said the house elf who had seated Minerva. "To begin, we have prepared a wonderful soup… "
Sometime later, as the couple finished dessert and were holding hands and looking as if Love's First Kiss was finally an inevitable event, Albus Dumbledore put his telescope under his arm and quit the Astronomy tower, his mirthful laughter echoing as far as the gamekeeper's cabin. And a few minutes after the inevitable event finally occurred, a craft looking very much like a Venetian gondola silently beached itself against the little island so the romantic couple could return to the castle with no more embarrassing wardrobe issues.
"As bad as a porch light coming on," whispered Jacob as he motioned at the boat.
They climbed aboard and the craft launched itself for a slow, romantic return trip to the castle, which gave the couple time for Love's Second (and possibly Third) Kiss.
And yes, Dumbledore sent a house elf to retrieve the kilt and shirt at the Lookout, hoping his guest would plan a little better in the future… But first he stuck his head in his fireplace to inform Madam Rosmetra and everyone else at the pub that she had won the betting pool as to when the kiss would happen. He then joined the rest of the staff, already en route to the Three Broomsticks Pub, knowing drinks would be on the house.
PART FIVE: The Locket
I’m fairly certain that most people reading this do not want to read about all the hugging and kissing that went on for the rest of the summer. They don’t want to hear about swimming with mermaids or riding hippogriffs… or about evenings spent at the Lookout where no one could see them, even from the Astronomy tower… or about the evening that Minerva was seen flying across the loch on the back of the gold Dragon, her hair unloosed and flying in the wind. So instead of torturing you with all the little picnics and candlelit dinners that happened for the final month of the summer holiday, let's just skip to the night before the students returned to school.
Professor Dumbledore had found an excuse to put on a dance not only for the staff but for the villagers in Hogsmeade who wished to attend. Everyone knew it was a farewell party for Jacob, but no one said it aloud so he and Minerva could simply enjoy the night. A formal affair, everyone was in their best robes as they waltzed their way around the floor. (It was the first time in a century the Tree Broomsticks was closed on a profitable night!) An entire orchestra's worth of instruments had been hired to supply the music, and each instrument played as if for kings and queens. No one could ever remember a more wonderful evening.
And at the end of the evening, Jacob privately presented Minerva with a small gift.
By dawn the next morning Jacob had packed his backpack, leaving its arm straps loose enough that when he stepped out on to the balcony he could transfigure and not break the straps. He smiled, knowing that in a few days he'd be telling Angus McGonagall what a wonderful great-granddaughter he had and that he ought to go visit her soon.
But as Jacob stepped out onto the balcony, he quickly covered himself because there was somebody there. "Not flying away without saying goodbye, are you?" It was Professor Dumbledore, who tactfully ignored his guest's lack of covering as a necessity if he was going to fly away and not leave anything behind.
"We said goodbye after the dance, actually."
"I meant to me."
"I'm sorry. Rude of me… "
"Thank you, Jacob of Ely," said Dumbledore as he shook Jacob's hand.
"For what?"
"For helping Minerva smile again. It had been too long."
Dumbledore shook the man's hand one more time and stepped out of the way as his summer guest changed into a Dragon and flew away.
“That must feel marvelous,” the Headmaster whispered to himself as the Dragon slowly became a speck of gold in the sky and disappeared over the mountains.
The students returned to Hogwarts the evening after the Dragon's departure, ready to refill their heads with everything they'd forgotten over the summer and add to it all sorts of new information, and the day after that Minerva stood in front of her second-year class and smiled.
"Everyone have a good holiday?" Most everyone appeared to have done so. Charlie Weasley, now a second-year student, raised his hand and asked if she had also had a good summer.
Minerva eyed him with a wicked smile on her face, knowing that sometimes the worst thing you can do is tell someone the truth. "I had a summer romance with a dragon, Mister Weasley. Every evening possible we met at the Lookout, where he let my hair down and held me in his arms while I purred like a kitten."
I have searched high and low, and I can tell you that there are no words in the English language to adequately describe the looks of surprise, shock, horror, and revulsion that wrote their way across the faces of each and every student. It was very clear they thought it entirely possible that she'd enjoy the romantic compa
ny of a dragon, and all of them also knew she was an animagus who could transfigure into a cat. But Professor McGonagall as part of a summer romance? No; that part of the picture was just not possible! There simply wasn’t enough magic in all the world…!
"He even gave me this when we parted," she continued as she approached Charlie's desk. Charlie could see it was a golden locket shaped like a dragon's head, and as the dragon's eyes met Charlie's, the nostrils emitted a small amount of steam. "A piece of a dragon's heart," Professor McGonagall explained, a wicked smile on her face.
"Now," she continued as she straightened up and faced the class, her teacher's face replacing the momentary smile. "Shall we discuss my summer romance, or shall we discuss Transfiguration?"
Without another word every student pulled their textbooks open and were instantly ready to begin class, eager to remove the picture of the strictest, most serious teacher in the school having a schoolgirl fling.
It was also a very long time before any students could brave the thought of taking a sweetheart to the Lookout, which gave Minerva time to go there privately and sit and smile, knowing she was, in truth, loved. After all, what Dragon would ever lie about that?
Charlie Weasley - who Talks to Dragons
Professor Kettleburn, the spry, 90-something Care of Magical Creatures instructor from Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft, slowly motioned for his star pupil to raise his head just high enough to see over the rocks they were both hiding behind.
Slowly the red-haired boy raised his head. At sixteen years of age, his freckles and red hair definitely identified him as a Weasley, no matter where in Great Britian's magical community one traveled. The boy was amazed how well the subjects of their field trip blended in with the lush green of the wild Welsh countryside.
"Professor,” Charlie whispered, “That's a real nest?! How many… ?
"I count three eggs from here,” Professor Kettleburn replied calmly.
In all the decades that the professor had taught Care of Magical Animals, Charlie Weasley was the first student he'd ever invited on a field trip during the all-too-short summer holiday between school terms. The boy was a natural with magical animals; he'd never seen another student with such a touch. Even Hagrid, the school gamekeeper, was proud of the boy and the ease with which he was able to work with the creatures the gamekeeper thought he had hidden in the forest well enough for no one else to know about. So, the professor finally approached the boy's parents and got their permission to bring Charlie along even before asking the boy – no need to raise his hopes only to have his parents say no. His mother Molly wasn't so sure, but Arthur, always one for an adventure or two himself, quickly gave permission, and the professor thanked them and disappeared while Arthur dealt with Molly's worries. In the end the boy was packed and ready when the professor pulled up at The Burrow one dark morning, driving what had to be the oldest Muggle automobile still street-legal in Great Britain. And now they were deep in the wild, untamed mountains of Wales where a game preserve known only to the magical world protected an animal that would bring fear into many Muggle hearts – but only if they knew it was there. For the Muggles of Wales, ignorance was indeed bliss.
Harry Potter - Three Short Stories Page 2
