#ftastarter

When one’s assumed partner offers a nearly impromptu trip to their shared homeland, it’s mean to be an enjoyable occasion one looks forward to.

Minerva feels less anticipation and more ire as she swiftly guides her clothing and toiletries into a luggage back, neatly folded just so and arranged to maximise space. It’s only a weekend get away and the woman packs for such. Yet she makes certain to bring all the necessities for doing her hair and proper bathing. A few warmer articles of clothing to combat the potential chill of the highland breezes. All the while her mind runs with thoughts of what Amelia had informed her of and how she’s about to willingly spend time with the man responsible for throwing a goblin-sized quandary into the young woman’s life.

When she meets Alastor with her suitcase shrunken and tucked away inside her robe, Minerva gazes with a cool expression, devoid of the initial pleasure at the Auror’s suggestion they escape for a scant holiday before school term. “I’m ready.”

From time to time, it’s necessary to crave fish and chips. And on the rare occasions, it’s also important to act on the craving. Especially if the chips will be drizzled with salt and vinegar. In need of a last minute book purchase from Diagon Alley, Minerva steps into the shopping centre, determined to avoid as much of the foot traffic as possible. Once her volume rests in her arms and paid for, the woman steps into the Leaky Cauldron with every intention of getting an order of fish and chips to go.

That is until, as she places her order and turns to survey the pub, she spots a student at one of the small single tables off to one side of the room. Minerva has some time before her food comes out--Leaky is notorious at being rather slow to serve food in comparison to the fast pouring drinks at the bar--the professor strides over to where Regulus Black sits and greets him.

“Mr Black, a pleasure to see you here.” With a wave of her hand she inquires, “Care if I join you until my food comes out?”

14 April 1952

Gryffindor common room becomes a whole other entity the moment they win a Quidditch game. The butterbeer and firewhiskey flows. Friends screaming and cheering, lovers pulling each other closer and new lovers finding themselves. Enemies putting their conflicts aside in favour of the positive energy surrounding everyone. Minerva was part of that win. She’d personally scored fifty points to the game. The fifth year is certainly thrilled to walk away from a match the winner but the zeal her housemates have for beating Ravenclaw only goes so far for her. A successful match doesn’t give her a pass on her studies. OWLs are this year and she can’t let her focus slip.

So Minerva gathers up her few textbooks into her satchel and slips out of the portrait hole to find a quieter place to study. The library is already closed for the evening and the young girl feels anywhere inside the castle will bring her in contact with too many students wanting to discuss the match of the afternoon.

Outside it will be.

With her transfiguration text tucked between her arms, Minerva makes her way toward the doors that will lead her out onto the grounds. It’s just as she pulls one door open that she hears footsteps behind her and she looks over her shoulder; it’s not curfew just yet so no one should have a problem with her leaving the castle. 

Of course it would be him.

Meeting with former students and friends always seems to become more frequent in the week leading up to the new school term. Minerva enjoys the preoccupation and use of her time. Though she certainly doesn’t mind the free time of summer hols, there comes a point when Alastor’s absence due to his demanding work schedule and little to do around the flat becomes a dull way to fill her time.

Of course Amelia’s time is rather precious these days as well, as she works in the Ministry’s law department, often in unison with cases Alastor and his aurors are assigned. Her input and access to information is unparalleled within the Order. The manner of the young woman’s owl has Minerva rather curious to know what the matter is that she wishes to speak with her on.

So it’s with satisfaction and a healthy dose of interest in her plan for the day that Minerva locks up the townhouse and makes her way to the nearest apparation point. With hair perfectly composed and sensible attire, the professor quickly cracks from one location to another and makes her way to the front door of Amelia Bones’ residence. Knuckles rap against the door and the astute woman waits patiently for her host to greet her.

After receiving confirmation from Mary that she is comfortable with a visit, Minerva quickly dons a pair of sensible shoes and a warm shawl to keep the nearing chill of autumn at bay before departing from Alastor’s flat. She apparates to her destination and when she reappears a block away from the young woman’s home, Minerva takes her time walking the short distance to arrive at the doorstep.

No doubt as a training healer, Mary may be a bit late and the professor is just a tad bit early besides. The woman settles herself down onto the front stoop and patiently waits for Mary’s arrival.

With mere days it seems to the beginning of the new school term, Diagon Alley is a whirlwind of schoolchildren and harassed parents, pinched looks of shop keepers and hoots and hisses of newly purchased pets. Minerva does her best to navigate through the throngs of the shopping lanes, keeping an eye on eleven year olds running underfoot. It’s not much different than the waves of students flooding Hogwarts’ corridors between lessons and the astute woman succeeds at keeping herself from running into people with aplomb.

That is, until a train of young boys careen past from behind her and one catches her in the side as he passes, sending Minerva on a teetering spin that lands her on her rear end. The boy looks over his shoulder even as he scampers to keep up with his friends, eyes wide and uncertain, and only mildly apologetic. As she tries to pull herself to rights, Minerva hopes he has a fright when he sees her at the welcoming dinner on his first night to the castle. 

The latest fight with her parents over her return to Hogwarts -- the date only a week away now -- had been epic. The three of them had all taken turns shouting at each other and even Daisy’s tears had no effect. It ended when she stormed out of the house, ignoring her mother’s protests and her father’s demands that she return immediately. Though she had no destination in mind, Daisy kept walking. The absolute last thing she wanted was to return to that house. She hadn’t stopped to grab her purse so all she had was the £10 and a handful of galleons in her pocket but she was fairly certain she could find someone to let her crash with them for the night. If not, well, she still wasn’t going home. 

Daisy walked until she got to a small park that she didn’t recognize. Feeling confident she was far enough from home to stop and think without being found by her parents, assuming they bothered to follow her, she flopped onto a bench and rubbed her face. 

“Ok, Dais, think...who can you stay with tonight?” she muttered to herself. 

The few muggle friends she’d managed to stay in contact with would inevitably ask too many questions. They all thought she’d been going to boarding school the last few years and it was difficult to maintain the lie over brief conversations, let alone an full night. None of her magical friends had access to a telephone and she didn’t have an owl. Couldn’t do magic because of the bloody trace so options were limited. Could she risk it? It wasn’t like she was at home, so would they really know it was her who did the magic? Daisy drew her wand, getting up and pacing while she weighed her options. As was her usual habit, she talked to herself and gestured with both hands as she did. A few seconds later a violently purple triple decker bus pulled up to the curb. The Knight Bus. That was perfect! The magic was accidental, easily written off as done by a young muggle born who didn’t know better. 

Clambering aboard, she paid the fare but hesitated when asked where she wanted to go. “Uh...Hogsmeade. I’d like to go to Hogsmeade, please.”

Amelia had woken up in a great mood, ready to attack the day. The intention was to enjoy her day off, spend some time running errands, get a good cup of coffee, stop by and see Edgar and the kids, etc. Her only mistake was reading the post before leaving the house. She’d gotten a letter from her Aunt Rebecca complete with photos of what she considered to be eligible bachelors.