Chapter 16

Minerva woke with a soft gasp, her head lifting up. An arm laid over her chest and she was in a quiet, comfortable sitting room - and felt the warm tickle of breath against her neck. Shame and pleasure warred within her, mingling together as she remembered everything she had done last night. Her stomach knotted as she, also, remembered...

Petunia.

She slid quietly from the grasp of Melissa, turning back to look at the older woman. She was breathtakingly beautiful in the pale orange sunlight that dappled through the drawn curtains of the room, her ears at rest, her tail coiling lazily around the leg of the sofa she had drawn Minerva onto. Her body was bared to the world, and the urge to simply return to her embrace was almost overpowering. Minerva did allow the instinct to drive her - she leaned down and gently kissed Melissa on her cheek, before stepping out of the painting. She found her clothing was just where she had left it, and when she knelt down and took out her desk, then enlarged it, then opened the drawer, she was greeted by the furious squeak of Petunia’s voice.

“Where on God’s green earth were you?” She asked as Minerva realized she should have put on clothing first. “And i- oh!” She exclaimed, while Gregory averted his eyes and Minerva hastily shut the box once more.

“Shush,” Minerva said, throwing her robes on. She buttoned them up, brushed her hair down flat, then started as the door rattled and clacked. She shoved her desk - shrunk once more - back into her pocket and tensed as she heard the door rattle again, and a cheerful voice came through.

“Melissa? You in?”

It was Professor Stengard, the scarred beasts teacher.

Minerva froze, while the door rattled again.

“I heard you in there, are you-”

“Give me just a moment, Lucas.”

Professor Stevenson’s voice, cool and calm, cut across the room as Minerva turned and saw her professor emerging, buttoning up her top and brushing her hair down flat. She tugged her leggings up, placed her hat upon her head, and then gently pushed Minerva back into the painting. There, Minerva could hear the muted sound of their conversation - like it was underwater.

“Have you heard that that the American President is going to be giving one of those radio chats he’s so bloody fond of?” Professor Stengard said, his voice grim. “Think it’ll be more of the Soviet’s nonsense?”

“Without a doubt,” Stevenson said. The door closed.

Minerva stepped out, frowning as she did so. She knew that Stevenson was acting this way to keep their secret. But oh, she ... she wanted ... she wanted too much. She wanted to hear what President Roosevelt had to say about this. She wanted to see what the world was doing. She wanted to pin down someone who knew the answers and ask them about the practice of magic in the earlier ages - and when, exactly, it was determined that blood was what cast spells, not the mind. She wanted...

Her stomach growled.

Breakfast.

Her hand to her belly and she made her decision. She’d find a private place and return Petunia to her full size and then-

Minerva stepped out and almost ran straight into Professor Ravenwood.

“Oh!” Minerva exclaimed as Ravenwood stepped back with a hiss. She was dressed in her best Sildanius robes and looked as if she had been in a tearing hurry - a hurry that was forgotten the instant she saw Minerva. She grabbed onto her arm, hissing furiously.

“Minerva Schross-Sableknight!” she said. “Last night, you went off into the wild blue yonder without permission, lured one of our better students into assisting you and, worst of all...” She leaned in and growled. “You cost us fifty points.”

Minerva’s fear transmuted quite shockingly into giddy laughter. “Points? You care about ... fifty points? Who bloody cares about points right now?” She shook her head, then wrenched her arm from Ravenwood’s grasp. The head teacher of House Sildanius hissed again, her golden eyes narrowing over her veil. “The whole world’s gone barmy, I heard that the Americans are going to drop their masquerade too, and you’re worrying about fifty points?”

Ravenwood’s eyes narrowed further still. She let out a curious little trilling noise - the sound a bird might. Minerva was reminded, uncomfortably, of the strange face lurking behind that veil. She took a step back, fear gathering about what Professor Ravenwood would say to her outburst.

The response she got chilled her blood ice cold.

“Why were you in Professor Stevenson’s rooms?” she asked.

“I was heading in to check if she was there for dueling practice,” Minerva said, lying easily. “I can’t make this week’s practice.”

“Interesting. You do practice with a Glintfair professor a great deal.” Ravenwood stepped forward. “And always at the latest hours of the night. Very curious. You know that those practice arenas are open for the whole day.”

Minerva took a step backwards. She almost bumped into the wall as Ravenwood looked down at her.

“Has she fallen into that disgusting habit of hers again?” Ravenwood hissed, softly.

“I have no idea what you mean, Professor,” Minerva said, her voice steely, to try and hide the quivering of her knees. The excitement and danger of her love affairs had this other side to the coin, and it felt like it was about to crush her.

“Don’t lie to me, I was at your inquisition,” Ravenwood said, grabbing onto her ear, twisting her head to the side. “You think we can’t cane a student if we need to? Would you rather confess now, or after we’ve used the truth charms on you?” She leaned in, her voice even more furious now.

“Let me go!” Minerva said, her voice desperate, her eyes half closed.

“Professor Ravenwood,” a curious male voice cut across the corridor. “What’s going on here?”

Ravenwood released Minerva with a hiss, turning to face Merlin, who was ambling down the corridor, his bright red tail flicking behind him.

“Simply disciplining a student of mine,” Ravenwood said, quietly. “Headmaster-”

“If you have an accusation to make against my finest invocation teacher in years and the only one qualified who survived the 20th century thusfar, then I would like more than just hearsay and conjecture,” Merlin said, dryly.

Ravenwood nodded, then turned and stalked off.

Minerva felt like collapsing with relief. She was so hungry and afraid now she was worried she’d cry.

“Are you all right, dear?” Merlin asked.

“Yes,” Minerva sniffed. “Thank you, sir.”

Merlin sighed, softly. “I would suggest you ... suspend practicing with Professor Stevenson for a time.”

Minerva nodded, mutely.

Merlin continued in his walking. Minerva rubbed her palms against her face and fled. To her absolute relief, she managed to emerge from the professor’s wing without meeting any other - merely empty rooms and quiet offices, once filled and now left desolate.

She tried to not think of it as a metaphor.

When Minerva finally was able to bring out Petunia and Gregory, they were both looking rather the worse for wear - their clothing rumpled, their faces haggard. Minerva knew she was starving, so she did something she’d rather not. She clapped her hands twice and said: “Fae!”

Despite being in the middle of a quiet, unused classroom, a nude fae man stepped into the room, drawing a gape from Petunia and a shocked glance from Gregory. “We need food and fresh clothing for these students and myself,” Minerva said. Then, quietly. “Apologies for the irregularity of it.”

“No need to apologize, mistress,” the fae said, bowing his head, then turning and stepping out. As the door closed, Gregory frowned.

“Mistress?” he asked.

“It’s ... the wizard folk keep the fae as servants,” Minerva said. Then, feeling unable to bear up with Gregory right there, she corrected herself. “As slaves. But as far as wizarding crimes go, it’s just one of many. Many.” She shook her head.

“Lovely,” Gregory said, frowning. “I’m beginning to think I should have stayed in the box.”

“Just...” Minerva rubbed her palms against her face. “We need to find my friends, and ... and plan what happens next.”

“Just get me food and I can handle that box,” Gregory said, then grinned. “I spent a year in the trenches and a childhood sharecropping. I can handle sitting in boring comfort for a few hours.” He shook his head. “I’d rather that than risk being noticed as a non-wizard here. Which I think Petunia...” He glanced at her, and she and Minerva were forced to reflect on the difference between the blond, blue eyed Petunia and Gregory’s tall, lanky, black form. “ ... can handle better than I.”

“But Gregory, I don’t want you to be trapped in there,” Petunia said.

“I won’t be trapped,” Gregory said, grinning at her. “I’ll be-”

The door opened and the fae returned, carrying silver trays heaped with food. And not just food, delicious food. And not just delicious food - but there was kosher food there. Bagels and cream cheese and delicious crumbly pastries that she just immediately wanted to cram down her mouth. She picked up a bagel, while the fae laid out a pair of robes and clothing for the two of them - but the robes for Gregory made Minerva look a bit mystified.

“What House are those for?” she asked. The robes looked a bit like the magical RAF uniform that Captain Cordwine wore, but rather than being a RAF uniform and a robe crossed together, it was a cross between a three piece suit out of some gangster movie and a set of robes. It even came with a fedora with a line of purple that set off the pale white and silver of the rest of the get up. Gregory picked up with a whistle.

“Well, I presumed the visiting American was from Underharvard or Yaletree,” the fae said, politely.

“Oh, I ... definitely went to Harvard,” Gregory said, his voice dry. The fae inclined his head.

“As you say,” he said.

“Thank you,” Minerva said, her guilt squirming in her belly. Then she added the bagel to it, which helped more than she wished it did.

When the three of them emerged, with the fedora perched on his head and with Petunia’s crutch under her arm, Minerva nodded to both of them. “Now, we need to find Selene and check with her - make sure she’s willing to back up your story, Gregory.” Petunia reached over to squeeze his arm and he flashed a wry smile at her. The three of them set off, Minerva frowning as she walked.

“Where is Selene usually?” Petunia asked, her cane clicking as her robes went swish - she was dressed in Sildanius colors, which would help not draw notice, with her standing beside Minerva and all.

“In the ... ah ... the medical ward,” Minerva admitted, her cheeks darkening.

“Good lord,” Petunia exclaimed. “Regularly? Is ... oh! She’s a nurse!”

“No she just...” Minerva wasn’t sure how to even explain it. She sighed and said. “She’s just an eager girl.”

“I see,” Gregory said, while they came to the medical wing of Hexgramatica, to find that the nurse was, in fact, examining a girl in House Wainscove colors ... who happened to have the head and ears of a silver furred wolf. Her hands were somewhere between paw and fingers, and her eyes were bright golden. Upon seeing Minerva, she let out an excited sound between a bark and a yip.

“Minerva!” she said. “I did it!”

“ ... is this Selene?” Petunia whispered to Minerva.

“You ... you did!” Minerva said, walking forward into the room.

“You were aware of this absurd girl’s plans!?” The nurse asked, spinning around to face Minerva, glaring at her. “She could have permanently disfigured herself. As it is, she’ll be back to normal in a day if she just would promise to take her potions.”

“What if I took half my potions?” Selene suggested. “Whilst a muzzle is quite adorable, it does make drinking from cups difficult.”

The nurse sighed - then started, jerking her head around to gape at Petunia. “Good lord, what is wrong with you, miss?” she asked, as Petunia stood at a crooked angle, her cane crooked under her. Petunia stammered something incoherent, but before she could so much as speak, the nurse had her sitting down and had began to examine her leg, her brow furrowing. She pulled the robes aside, then pushed the legging up and let out a soft hiss as she saw the brace and the distorted leg beneath.

“W-Well, it’s just-”

“You got yourself cursed quite badly,” the nurse said, clicking her tongue. “Who did it?”

“It was a cruel prank,” Minerva said, quickly. She doesn’t recognize polio, she thought, dizzy. Of course she doesn’t. She’s a wizard! This damage is for mundanes ... isn’t it?

“I keep telling people we shouldn’t give you children wands until you’re thirty,” the nurse grumbled, then drew out her wand. She touched it to the leg and began to whisper a spell. Minerva caught one word in five - but that was enough for her to realize that the nurse was ... essentially, describing a healthy leg using magical terms. She finished it off with an authoritative: “Kemb!” And then she tapped the leg.

The brace exploded off Petunia’s leg with a spray of smoke and light. When the smoke cleared, there was a leg there. Petunia gaped down at it while the nurse sighed, then turned to face Selene. “Now drink your potion, you absurd creature.”

“No,” Selene said. “I wish to have a tail.”

“If my goddaughter wants a tail, I suppose we can let her have one,” Gregory said, dryly. Selene looked at him with her bright piercing eyes, while the nurse seemed to finally realize she had an older gentleman in the room with her. Her eyes widened as she saw his dark face, exotic robes, and warm smile. “Gregory Joad-Rutkis, of the Georgia Joad-Rutkises. I served with Selene’s father, in the war.”

“Uncle Greg!” Selene exclaimed with perfect timing, then sprang off the table and flung her arms around him in a tight hug, which took Gregory off guard.

“I ... ah ... I didn’t know anyone was visiting from America,” the nurse stammered. “A pleasure to meet one of the, um, Joad-Rutkises...” She clearly didn’t have any idea who they were - but she was, like many people, not willing to admit ignorance in front of strangers. “But we can’t just leave her like this, she drank toxic magical materials.”

“Only enough to make me into a wolf girl,” Selene said, drawing away from her ‘uncle.’

“How about the half potion, then,” Gregory said as Minerva watched this all, hands over her mouth - covering a delighted giggle.

“ ... that will ... make her have wolf ears and a tail, but no other signs of deformity,” the nurse admitted.

“That sounds like enough wolf for any girl, eh?” Gregory asked, playing the role of ‘godfather who spoils his favorite goddaughter rotten’ to the hilt. Selene nodded, and when the nurse offered the half potion, she drank it down. Minerva saw that she was right. It was hard to drink with a muzzle - but she managed it, with only light spilling. It was then that Minerva noticed that Petunia had begun to weep silently. She shifted, moving between Petunia and the nurse as the muzzle on Selen’s face snapped back to a nose, her jaw retracting and shifting, her fur falling off in clumps until she shook her head and it burst away from her in a thistle-like explosion of silvery fur. Once she was done, she looked like Selene again - albeit with wolf ears, tail, and golden eyes.