2:00 pm

Dark circles bagged heavily beneath the elderly witch’s spectacled eyes as she sat behind the ancient desk. Her frame was stooped from exhaustion and while her office was filled with the low hum of chatter – Minerva McGonagall simply couldn’t be bothered to respond. Within the circular office, voices could be heard at any point during the day or night. At least one of the portraits on the wall had a bit of advice for the current leader of Hogwarts, and lately they all had quite a lot to talk about. Many of the witches and wizards along the wall were unhappy with Minerva. She should have been more diligent, she should have increased security long before, she should have done a many number of things – to hear it told, Minerva was one of the worst Heads the school had ever seen.
   
Minerva didn’t blame them for being ruffled with her – she had many of their doubts rattling around in her head without needing their reminders, even if some of them were so preposterous it was worth a good laugh.

It had been a month, only one month, since fourteen students were taken from Hogwarts, some of them never to return. Security had been increased – yet somehow the lake was still turned to blood. Maybe McGonagall wasn’t doing enough. Which is why the witch could be found sitting silently behind her desk – a budget report pushed aside for the moment, and not out among the faculty and students. They were doing all they could for securing the school – now it was Minerva’s job to ensure that should something like this happen again, all her students would be as prepared as possible.

Medical training was one of the few areas Hogwarts was seriously lacking in – and when an owl had arrived from Miranda Storm, Minerva jumped on it eagerly. A date was set for a meeting of the minds, and that time was nearly upon them. A knock sounded at the door, and Minerva watched as the new Mrs. Storm entered the office. “Welcome, and congratulations, Mrs. Storm,” She said – relief and pride showing through her voice. Thankfully the portraits around the room decided to hold their tongues – they wouldn’t disrespect Minerva with guests in her office.

It had been years since Miranda had been up to the Headmaster’s office at Hogwarts. The last time she’d been up was to quit her job as the Hogwart’s Healer only a few months after taking it up. It had been a few weeks after watching her oldest brother being murdered on the stage on the quidditch pitch that had suddenly made Miranda feel extremely uncomfortable at Hogwarts. Therefore, having been part of the Durmstrang contingency last year and needing to live at the castle had been unpleasant at best. Her only relief had been trips to the pub with a certain wizard that was now her husband.

Now Miranda knew she needed to deal with her issue and she knew she needed to get the public trusting her hospital and staff again. This was why she’d sent Minerva McGonagall the owl and now she was stood with the statue that elevated itself towards the most important office of the school.

Ignan had walked with her into Hogwarts that morning, aware of why she needed to see the headmistress as they’d discussed her idea a few days before. He very kindly offered the password to the statue and a few minutes later Miranda was knocking on the office door and stepping inside.

Now about 35 years in the past, Miranda had been in McGonagall’s  transfiguration lesson, not exactly trying or focusing because she had absolutely no wish to carry it on. She’d kept a sensible distance from the witch during the Tetrawizard tournament but if she was to carry her new plan out, she needed to make an ally of the formidable Headmistress.

“Thank you professor.” A warm smile twisted the Healer’s lips. It was most strange to receive congratulations for her choice of husband; especially considering how closely he worked with McGongall. “Thank you for seeing me. I know you must be extraordinarily busy.” One didn’t lose students without having an increased workload.

Minerva had been an educator for over half a century – even during her short stint away from Hogwarts, she was still involved and active as a School Governor. One simply didn’t invest that much time into something if they didn’t have a passion for it, nor would they stick it out if the rewards weren’t worth the effort – and the effort was certainly great. She had always found that her reward was watching her students grow into their full potential; to see her children accomplish greatness.

One of those success stories just happened to be in the office with her. Though Miranda had not been an exemplary transfigurationist, she was certainly accomplished. Knowing that her own hand helped to guide Miranda to becoming the Head Healer of St. Mungo’s filled Minerva’s heart with pride.

If anyone knew the excessive amount of work laid upon her office, it was Miranda Storm. It hadn’t been long enough since the poisoning incident for the public to have forgotten – certainly her own workload must be extreme. Add Wizengamot duties in the mix and Miranda was quite right, she was extraordinarily busy. A dry chuckle slipped from Minerva’s lips, humorless, but not without caring. “You are quite right, but one makes time for the Head Healer of St. Mungo’s. Have a seat,” she said, “and how can I be of assistance today?”

The healer comfortably lowered herself into the chair opposite Minerva, crossing her legs at her ankles and sitting up straight. The office was imposing and impressive and the portraits staring down at them thinking merlin knew what reminded Miranda of the portrait that hung in her much plainer and messier office back at St Mungo’s. Healer Mungo Bonham was often disapprovingly scowling at the current head healer of the hospital he’d founded as she sat smoking while working through mountains of parchment. She often threw a robe over the judgemental oil painting so Miranda could only imagine how badly she’d cope if she took up residency in the Headmistress’ office. Students and colleagues alike might judge if they entered to find near 50 paintings covered up or turned around.

How could McGonagall be of assistance… Healer Storm considered her approach for a moment as she brought her attention back to the Headmistress.

“I was rather hoping we could assist one another, actually.” Miranda began calmly, her Devonshire accent strong. “It’s no secret how much trust the public has lost in St Mungo’s recently, understandably.” And it was hard to talk about considering Miranda hadn’t even been in charge a year. “We’re making the necessary changes to our potions supply but we need to start showing the community how we can help. Which is where Hogwarts comes in. There’s a massive gap in your curriculum and I’d like to fill it.”

Miranda paused, considering how it sounded. “I’m not going to lie here, Professor, and say that I am offering this altruistically. There would of course be a benefit to St Mungo’s but Hogwarts students would benefit and feel safer as well.” It didn’t occur to Miranda that she hadn’t yet been clear with what she was offering or asking for.

Minerva listened to the witch sat before her with intrigue. Her hands were clasped together, resting comfortably on the elderly witch’s chin – one index finger tapping her lips thoughtfully. Much of what Miranda wanted the Headmistress had already guessed, but speaking it out loud made it real. As her fellow witch spoke, Minerva took the time to take in Miranda’s appearance – she hadn’t had the easiest of times lately either, though Minerva would never have been able to tell just by looking at her colleague.

When Miranda critiqued the medical curriculum, Minerva’s eyes flashed dangerously for a split second. It wasn’t often the Headmistress allowed anyone to criticize her staff or her own ability – especially within the confines of her own office, but there was a stinging truth to the healer’s words. Instead of cutting Miranda off, Minerva simply lowered her hands to the top of the ancient desk.

When the witch before her had finished speaking, Minerva didn’t reply right away. She took a moment’s hesitation to collect her thoughts – it wouldn’t do to be tactless with one of the most influential powers in the wizarding community. “What can you offer that we don’t already provide? Though it may be true we don’t offer extensive medical training to our students, but every one of our subjects teach basic medical care. Even your husband teaches Staima to first years,”[1]

Minerva was truly interested in having St. Mungo’s boost the Hogwarts curriculum, but she had to make sure Miranda knew what she was getting herself into. As the Headmistress of the school, it was Minerva’s job to ensure that she only allowed the most exemplary of minds to teach her charges, and while Miranda was certainly a gifted witch, did she truly understand how much work would be involved?

And yes, St. Mungo’s did need to save face with the community, but so did Hogwarts. What would happen when more important things came up and this little community project fell apart? Hogwarts couldn’t be seen dropping the ball, not on something this important.

1.	DADA Lesson

What could she offer that Hogwarts didn’t provide? Miranda nearly laughed at the question. It wouldn’t do to laugh at her husband’s boss and the headmistress of Hogwarts; that was far too improper. So instead she merely smiled and crossed her legs over at the knee, sitting comfortably as it appeared the discussion wouldn’t be as straight forward as she’d presumed. McGonagall was being sensible, she questioned Miranda’s offer; that was smart.

When the older witch pointed out Ignan’s use of Staima, Miranda did laugh quietly and shake her head.
“What would Ignan be able to offer me in the way of defensive spells? I’ve cast a patronus before.” A shrug and a raise of her eyebrows. To Miranda, this was point proven.

“I don’t need to explain the importance and variety of specialisms to you, Headmistress. You wouldn’t hire a potions master to teach astromonmy. What I’m offering you is specialists to come and teach and train your students.” Miranda didn’t feel it necessary to explain her own experience to her former professor. She’d worked alongside Minerva as part of the Dumstrang contingency, she’d worked as the Hogwarts Healer for a short time and she had a large amount of experience in training healers at the hospital. “A weekly class. I will lead most but obviously that can’t be every week. Someone will be here though. I can bring in specialists and trainee healers alike.”

“It can be during potions lessons brewing remedies, herbology lessons to show where the plants can be used or we can work on field healing in defence classes.” Miranda gave a shrug. She wasn’t going to beg.

Though some may have taken offence to the Healer’s demeanor, and indeed, a few portraits along the walls scoffed at Storm’s response, Minerva simply smiled. This was the attitude she was looking for. If Miranda could carry that fierceness throughout the courses, this plan may actually work. If everything worked out well, this certainly could help improve morale across the entire wizarding populace. Two of the largest wizarding institutions banding together to help keep everyone safe, it would certainly restore faith in Hogwarts and Mungo’s.

Though it would have been impolite to ask, Minerva was slightly curious about the article she’d read in Witch Weekly. She certainly wasn’t a gossip, and never read the magazine for the stories (or so she’d have everyone believe), she purchased them simply for the crossword – which she was incredibly good at. When Healer Storm’s name appeared in a headline, however, Minerva simply couldn’t turn her eyes from the page. Had Miranda been seeing a known criminal in secret? Minerva had no way of knowing. Was Ignan in a worse mood lately? Minerva couldn’t say, he always seemed cross, and with the recent issues, he had every reason to be.

The smile slid uneasily from her face as the headmistress thought about it. To keep herself from bringing it up, she decided to keep the conversation on track. “Good job, Mrs. Storm, you’ve convinced me,” She said, “Of course, you’ll need to consult with our new healer, Tempest Sage, who you should know quite well, she recently worked for you,” Minerva paused, not sure how Miranda would feel about the headmistress hiring one of Miranda’s own.

“You may also want to talk to the other professors to ensure you aren’t duplicating things they’ve done. You are more than welcome to collaborate on lessons, but if you’d like a scheduled time, we can schedule you in our seminar hours,” Minerva sighed then, “And realize that this is only a temporary trial. If, after this semester, things are going nicely, we can bring the matter to the Board of Governors and they will have the final decision. Does that seem fair?”

Being called Mrs Storm was something that was still taking a lot of getting used to. She would probably never get used to it. But she didn’t consider the name for long as McGonagall brought up her own staff member who had moved on to become the new Hogwarts Healer; a job Miranda herself had done for a few months.

Sage was a decent enough healer but far too young to suddenly be on the Board of Warlocks for St Mungo’s. Miranda hadn’t wanted to say anything until an owl had come through last week from the new board member suggesting she keep her personal matters private and away from hospital business. Healer Storm had hit to roof, writing her own very biting response.

So with the mention of Sage, Miranda’s lips pressed into a thin line, unimpressed at the prospect of ‘consulting’ with the newest Hogwarts staff member.
“I know her.” Was all she said.

“Does that seem fair?” Miranda felt as if she’d been taken back to her Hogwarts days receiving instructions from her professor. She definitely didn’t like it. How Ignan dealt with taking orders on a daily basis, she couldn’t understand after months of being the one in charge. But she needed McGonagall’s cooperation.

“I somehow doubt I will duplicate what your professors will have done.” She didn’t mean it to sound rude, but she realised it came across that way. “The idea is that we teach them more specialised skills.” A small smile was offered.

Minerva was not at all thrilled with the Healer's sudden rudeness. The look on her face when she'd mentioned Sage was less than encouraging. If the Head Healer of St. Mungo's had doubts about Minerva's new hire, perhaps she should too? Though that was hard to believe, as she'd been a huge help in her short stint at the school - helping move the Hospital Wing back into the castle. That, and she'd been made a member of the St. Mungo's Board of Warlocks, right? At a young age like that, Minerva would have assumed the two healers would have had much in common.

The headmistress brushed it off and adjusted her glasses upon her nose. When Miranda felt comfortable enough to push back against her very simple requests, Minerva sat forward in her chair, a stern look in her eye, "I understand quite well what it is you're offering, Healer Storm, but only a fool tries to brew a potion without knowing the ingredients," Minerva paused, then leaned back in her chair once again, "Foundation. You say you'll be teaching my students a specialty, but specialties come from a firm foundation of the basics,"

"You may have spent quite a bit of time in our castle, but you haven't the faintest clue what all our curriculum includes. You'll have students trying dangerous spells and incantations without knowing what they can handle. Asking you to communicate with our specialists will make your job much easier," Minerva really wasn't sure what had come over the Storm witch, her requests were extremely valid.

"Oh, and any potions, salves, poultices, herbal remedies, or anything else involving ingredients will come only from the Hogwarts stores. We are taking safety very seriously these days,"

Anyone that knew Miranda well knew that she valued control. She wanted to be the most important person in the room and if she wasn’t, she battled to be that person. Being in control of a situation was everything. Today she was in Minerva McGonagall’s territory and she wasn’t in control. She was asking for a favour in the guise of an offer. Minerva had seen straight through it and knew that the healer needed the help. So Miranda was greatly struggling not to bite back at what she felt were reprimands.

And she could stop her retorts, if only for Ignan’s sake, but when the dig was made about the St Mungo’s supplies, Miranda stiffened, lips pressing into a firm line and eyes darkening ever so slightly.

‘I’ll try not to lose any of your students, then.’ She knew what she wanted to say. She knew what she wanted to throw in Minerva’s face after her pointed comment. But she needed something from the headmistress; it wasn’t wise to continue in the manner they had. Minerva had the upper hand.

“As you should, Headmistress.” The witch’s tone was polite, reserved. She paused, considering a change in her manner to be necessary. “In no way am I saying that I know your curriculum. I’m not omnipotent. This is to enhance what you do here, not change it.” Now she did sound sincere, honest. Being barbed wasn’t going to cut it with a witch that evidently valued control as much as she did. They were technically equals. They needed to work together.

The battle for control in the room was almost tangible - indeed, some of the portraits upon the walls were shifting in their frames uncomfortably. Minerva, however, was not shaken. Storm needed McGonagall and McGonagall needed Storm, but when it came to her school - a place she'd bled for, almost died for - there could be no question: Minerva would not back down. Thankfully Miranda was an extremely intelligent witch and realized that rather quickly. Knowing when to pick your battles was a large part of leadership, and Miranda Storm seemed to know that - it was one of the reasons she could lead St. Mungo's so well. Creating a rift between two of the wizarding communities largest institutions wouldn't be good for anyone.

Calming herself as well, Minerva removed her spectacles and tossed them atop a stack of papers on the desk in front of her. An apologetic smile met Miranda's sincere reply, perhaps she needn't have been so harsh with the supplies dig. Surely Miranda wouldn't have been lugging potion ingredients across the country anyway.

"Interactions can be quite minimal," She said, "and honestly, you'll be able to get most of the information you'll need from your husband," Perhaps, if Miranda Storm was willing to give a little, so could Minerva, "Every one of our professors provide us with curriculum plans for the term - keeping up with them is Ignan's department. You may not even need to speak to any of the staff members unless you wish to,"

"Other than Storm, Sage, and myself, that is," She finished, then leaned forward to grab a quill and open the inkwell atop her desk. A blank scrap of parchment was pulled from a stack and Minerva poised herself to write. "Did you have a time frame in mind? A time you'd like to start these... electives? Or do you need time to prepare?"

The claws had once more been retracted. Miranda’s calm response to McGonagall’s harshness had soothed the situation and both women were once more on a more equal footing. Or so it felt now that the catfight for power had momentarily diffused.

It had at least diffused enough for the slightest smile to twist Storm’s lips at the thought of her asking for such things from her husband. They’d been able to comfortably start a relationship with the knowledge that their work would be kept completely separate. Now Miranda was blurring the lines and he had very little choice but to go along with it. Unfortunately for the wizard, he had very little choice but to go along with most of what she wanted. But he did know when and how to draw the line. Ignan, Miranda had already realised, agreed with her ideas for a quieter life. She used that reality.

But to poke her nose into his work… that was perhaps taking a step further than she should. And Minerva did know her husband didn’t she?

“I can start when is convenient.” Miranda decided to follow this avenue than that of stepping on her husband’s professional toes so soon after he’d only just started talking to her again. “As I said, I won’t be present for every session. Responsibilities can have me spread thinly. As you would know Madam.” A nod in Minerva’s direction before Miranda considered how her words could be taken.  Ignan had commented on his superior being somewhat absent recently.

“What I mean to say is congratulations, Chief Warlock.” A smile was offered.

Minerva had once again grabbed her spectacles and returned them to her face as Miranda spoke, the feeling in the room much more comfortable now that the two had drawn the line in the sand and found their comfortable spots - close, but not crossing, that line. She scribbled down a couple notes, reminding herself to ask Ignan to add the Medical Class-thingy to the schedule, and then positively dropped her quill in shock.

“What I mean to say is congratulations, Chief Warlock.”

Of course, Miranda would know about her promotion. Not only was her husband Minerva's second-in-command, but she was also a member of the Wizengamot herself. She had cast a vote herself on who the next chief should be, was it Minerva? She wondered all this in moments after Miranda stopped speaking. She wanted to just brush it off like it was nothing, but it wasn't nothing.

Did Miranda understand that Minerva only took on the post to help keep the wizarding community safe from the ongoing evils? Wasn't that what she was trying to do with boosting confidence in St. Mungo's with these classes? Wouldn't she have made the same choice? But was it true, what the papers were saying, that Minerva was spreading herself too thin? Had Ignan said something to Miranda about her continued absences? Was she spreading him too thin, with a new wife at home?

Without even bothering to lift her quill again, Minerva looked toward Miranda's eyes and said sincerely, "Thank you, it is an honor, and quite a bit more responsibility. You can coordinate with Ignan on when the best time to start is, I suppose, or you can send me an owl - if talking to your husband about work is uncomfortable. I've been married before, I know how that can go,"

Unsure about whether she was the most perturbed by the suggestion that discussing work with Ignan would be uncomfortable or the admission that the stony untouchable Minerva McGonagall had once been married, Miranda managed to maintain a straight face, lips pursed into a thin line as she considered what to do with that new information. And how was she so certain Miranda wouldn’t want to discuss it with Ignan. Was that so obvious?

“I don’t see why it should be uncomfortable.” The healer gave a shrug and offered the headmistress a small smile, trying to show just how comfortable she was. A quick glance at her pocket watch confirmed how long she’d now spent at Hogwarts and how she needed to get to St Mungo’s to check on her staff and hospital.

“Well thank you for your time, Headmistress,” Standing now, Miranda straightened her robes and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “I’ll be in touch about when we can do the first class. May I use your fireplace?”

“Naturally,” the Headmistress muttered absently to Miranda’s comment on sharing a professional relationship with her husband. It was, after all, none of Minerva’s business, and in the coming months, she would be leaning on Ignan more and more, it wouldn’t do well for the witch to sow dissention between either of the Storms, so Minerva was actually quite relieved when the Healer gave Minerva an easy out.

“Of course,” the Headmistress stated, rising from her comfortable perch behind the ancient desk. “After recent events, Hogwarts has tightened our security quite considerably. I’ll contact Ashland Sweep with the floo network and ensure your office has a stable connection to Hogwarts in the future,” Being one of the most influential witches in the wizarding community had perks, Minerva had to admit. She had grown used to the awe and respect others showed toward her – but since her promotion, it seemed people were more than eager to do as she asked, as if pandering to the elder witch would gain them her favor.

“I look forward to hearing from you,” she said, before watching as the flames engulfed Miranda in a swirl of green fire before Minerva sank back into her seat, content with the result of the meeting, even if the exchange getting there wasn’t as smooth as it could have been.

End