35. THE DUEL

Minerva watched in silence as the battle raged. She heard murmurs of approval all around her when Cuthbert launched a series of colorful Firewheels. Donnie put up a shield, which caused one to ricochet into the crowd. Frannie cried out for someone to put up a Barrier, but Lord Macnair said the rules of dueling forbade it. So the twins retreated to the relative safety of the kitchen steps. Aunt Bobbie laughed and started a crisp, shouted play-by-play so her sisters wouldn't miss any of the action.

"Lookit, Donnie's trying a Double-Forked Body-Bind. They don't teach that at Hogwarts, I can tell you. But Cuthbert's ready for it. He's set up some kind of Warding or Repulsion Field. Yes, it looks like a variation on the patented Campbell Coal Mine Truss-Shield. He says he learned it from George Pickingill, the only real wizard in that bit of Muggle claptrap they called The Order of the Golden Dawn. See? You can tell the Truss Charm by its pinkish glow. The miners all complain it makes them look like a bunch of chorus girls, but it keeps them from getting turned into haggis, I can tell you. Holds up tons of mountain. Little Sis'll have a mort of trouble getting past that one. But sooner or later, old Cuthie is going to have to drop his little pink halo if he wants to do some damage. You can't send an offensive spell through a Shield that powerful. That's the first rule of dueling, folks."

And at her word, Cuthbert did just that. He Vanished the Shield and went after Donnie with a wave of Conjured weapons: swords, spears, axes, daggers, maces, and chunks of stone. She wasn't quick enough with her own Shield and had to dodge the weaponry while she shouted the cant. An ax caught her on the ankle and bit deep, shattering her concentration. She moaned and sank to the ground. Cuthbert took aim and sent a purple Blast Ray at her face. She turned away, but it grazed her cheek, leaving a mark Minerva remembered having last seen on her father's forehead. Something about that wound--and something Bobbie had said earlier started a chain of logic in her mind. But she stopped it in its tracks. Donnie was in trouble. She tried to get Lord Macnair's attention, but he was glued to the battle, a leer of incipient triumph on his face. She had to pull on his arm. He glared at her.

"I'm sorry, my Lord," she tried to keep her voice calm, "but may I enter the field... now?"

"Oh, yes... all right... summon your broom, girl." Much good it will do you, his look seemed to say.

She thought hard a moment. What would she do when the withywand stick appeared? She could fly at Cuthbert and try to distract him while her aunt pulled herself together. But no, that was too chancy. What she really needed was to get Donnie off the field, so she could heal herself and rest. But that would take...

"Accio Dreadnought!" she cried.

There was a crashing sound behind them and shards of glass spattered the courtyard--right in front of the twins--as the great caber shot out through her bedroom window. The noise warned the crowd, and everyone scattered. It dropped to earth where a moment before Aunt Charlamaine had been trying to persuade the MacCrimmon brothers to play the battle dirge Day Is Done. Minerva straddled the Dreadnought and kicked off, racing towards her aunt who was fending off a horde of Doxies, on her knees in a pool of her own blood. The venomous creatures scattered at the sight of Minerva charging at them on a broomstick the size of a Peruvian Vipertooth. Heartened, Donnie managed a decent Shield while Minerva helped her aboard.

"Go, go--GO!" someone shouted from the crowd--probably Bobbie. This was followed by a commanding male voice: "Accio, Comet 160!" as the Dreadnought shot into the sky.

Minerva wasn't too concerned about Conall following them. He was a very good wizard--won all kinds of awards for his spellsmanship--but was a complete Squib where flying was concerned. Now if Walden had been Cuthbert's Second, Minerva might have worried. Whatever his shortcomings, he was an excellent Beater.

She could hear Donnie pronouncing the words of a Stanch-Flow Charm over her bloodied leg. She turned to grin at her aunt and saw a long way behind, the Comet 160 bearing--not the slight form of Conall--but someone much meatier. Walden? But surely it couldn't be fair to change Seconds in mid-duel. She shouted as much to Donnie, who also turned to look at their pursuer.

"That's not Walden. It's Cuthbert."

"What? Is Conall up behind him?"

"I doubt it." Donnie had to be right. No racing broomstick was designed to hold more than one person, and the Comet One-Sixty had that additional weakness: the brittle shaft her father had once told her about. So Cuthbert had seized the broomstick Conall Summoned and was pursuing them alone. A smart move and probably legal. At least there were no Stunners shooting up at him from Madam Bones or Lord Macnair. She hoped he was no better flier than Conall, but Donnie quickly disabused her of that notion. "He Beat for Slytherin for five years," she shouted. "He can fly all right."

And he was catching up to them. The Dreadnought was relatively slow and had a huge turn-radius. This was going to be a challenge.

~*~

Down on the ground, Bobbie continued her expert commentary. She occasionally filled in for the Magpies' play-by-play announcer on the WWN, and a flying battle was meat and drink to her. And just so that everyone would be able to hear, she cast a Sonorus on her throat, so her voice could be heard for miles around. Naturally it, and the display of flashing lights and booms from the spellwork, attracted curious folk, who drifted up the hill and through the gates to the source of the excitement. Soon there were dozens of mages and Muggles-in-the-Know, camped out under the aerial battle, cheering, jeering, and making bets on the outcome.

"Magnus MacDonald is giving eight to five odds on Campbell," announced Bobbie, "but he's only got about ten Galleons on him, so if you want a piece of the action, you'd better get over here quickly." Hearing this, Minerva felt a little miffed. After all, she had supported Magnus in his quest to be the first Hogwarts contestant in the Swedish Broom Race. But she hadn't long to be angry because Cuthbert was bearing down on them, firing Stunners. She lost him briefly by circling around the Keep. The turn was so tight she actually scraped up against the corner of a tower. When she got back to the duelling ground, he was nowhere to be seen.

"Bludger coming--duck, you witches!" shouted Bobbie from the ground, and Minerva realized almost too late that she meant the enemy was overhead. And indeed, there was Cuthbert, flying down out of the constellation Leo, like a meteor. He had taken a short cut over the roof. She couldn't dodge, so she did the only thing she could, waited until he was so close he couldn't change course, then braked hard and let him run right into her fag end. She'd hoped that would break up his sweep, but he just glanced off the springy tail and bounced back a few yards.

While he recovered, Minerva took the opportunity to put as much distance as possible between them, so she could discuss strategy with Donnie. "I'm going to wait until he closes with us, then do a vertical loop," she explained.

"What are you hoping to accomplish?"

"There's a design flaw in the Comet 160. I'm hoping to break up its shaft with the extreme G-forces. Hold on. Here he comes."

Cuthbert approached at speed, firing hexes. Minerva urged the Dreadnought into a steep ascent, and he followed. She pulled on its head, starting a backward loop. She had to concentrate hard on keeping a consistent curvature. But the Dreadnought was too long and heavy for the tight turn radius she was trying to effect, and halfway through the loop, it started flipping end over end like a pinwheel.

Cuthbert, on the small, lithe Comet, came out of the loop with not so much as a faggot out of place and bore down on the Dreadnought and its passengers, who were by now cross-eyed and green from the spinning motion. His first spell set its tail afire, but Donnie, who was being sick just then, had the presence of mind to puke on the blaze, which put it out, though it smelled terrible. His second spell barely missed Minerva's head and she shouted to her aunt to for-Merlin's-sake-please-put-up-that-bloody-Shield-Spell. She did so, and they sped off back towards the Keep.

Minerva had by now decided the only advantage the Dreadnought had was its weight, so she was going to try to ram the smaller Comet One-Sixty. She shouted to Donnie to get ready to Vanish the Shield on her signal, and she once again rounded the Keep, hoping that Cuthbert would try the same overhead attack he had before. He did, but this time, Minerva went to meet him. His spells glanced off Donnie's Shield. Good, the bastard didn't have a Shield of his own up. She aimed for his midsection. There'd be no brushing the Dreadnought aside, as Dugald had once done to her withywand broomstick. At the last second she motioned to Donnie to drop the Shield, and she buried the head of the Dreadnought right into the front of Cuthbert's robe. It drove through to the broom handle and the Comet sprang back under the impact. She thought she heard the faintest of cracks and then a clearly recognizable, agonized scream as the Dreadnought lumbered on past.

She felt a tug at her arm. It was Donnie. She looked, if it was possible, both white and green at the same time.

"I'm sorry, dearie, I just can't go on." She pointed at her leg. It was spurting blood like a fountain. "It won't stay healed," she whispered.

Minerva shrugged and made for the roof of the Keep to unload her passenger. "Get inside and find Goodie Gudgeon. She's probably reading to Argus. She'll have some potion that'll work. But keep a look-out. Conall is still in this and he might come looking for you."

"But he gave up his wand, remember?"

Minerva nodded and scanned the sky for her cousin. Had he given up and run off? She knew she had given him a bruising he'd remember for a long, long time. Then she heard Aunt Bobbie announcing to all and sundry that Master Campbell was 'polishing the Family Jewels', to which there were embarrassed titters from her aunts and guffaws from the male audience. There he was, on the ground, pointing his wand between his legs. Apparently she had hit him a little lower than she'd planned. He was probably doing some kind of Numbing Charm on his privates. The polite thing would have been to let him finsh his self-ministration, but Minerva was way past feeling merciful. She went into a dive, straight from the roof, and Cuthbert had to cut his spellwork short. He kicked off and sped away over the fields in obvious fear. He wanted no more close encounters with the Dreadnought. But her sweep was still too slow and he put a great deal of distance between them in a short time.

She pursued him for a long time over undulating hills and patches of woodland and finally lost sight of the Comet altogether. She could see mountains in the distance, and in front of them a remnant of the Old Caledonian Forest. They must be near the Crypt--or the mine. Minerva smiled grimly. She wished she could get him to fly inside and then call down some wandless magic to bury him in it, the way he had buried her father. Yes, it all came clear to her riding out in the fresh, cold night air, air that Da would never breathe again because of Cuthbert, and likely his scheming mother.

It was that remark of Bobbie's that did it, about the pink color of the mine's Truss-Shield Spell. But Inachus Filch had said the mine was black as pitch when he and Da entered it. There was no spell holding up the mountain's innards that morning. And that meant...

Now she saw something moving in the distance. It was the Comet. Cuthbert was patrolling the cliff face, as if looking for something, a place to hide, perhaps? Hardly. He still had his wand, and all that high-level education. More likely a niche to ambush her from. He was bent over, clutching himself, as if in pain. She chuckled nastily. He was probably still hurting from her ramming attack. She dropped down into the trees. At this point, the forest would provide cover until she was almost upon him. She would try to surprise him from the side and ram him again before he could complete a spell, Even if he managed to dodge her, she had one other maneuver she could try, which might possibly even disarm him. She waited until he crossed her line of sight, then charged him with a vengeance. She was only a few yards away when he saw her. His Quidditch reflexes kicked in; the Comet started to rise. At that second, she leaped up into the air and vaulted over him, giving his wand hand a hearty kick as she arced by. She completed the Jumping Jupiter ploy, settling herself firmly back on the Dreadnought as it completed its pass under the Comet 160.

But then she realized that the Dreadnought's momentum was going to carry her right into the cliff face, which was now only a short distance away. And far beneath it, she saw the entrance to the Crypt. This whole section of mountain was reinforced with her father's Shield Spells inside and out. She could feel their power, radiating from the very rock itself, threatening her and her sweep. There was no chance the Dreadnought would survive the collision with those forces, even though she had been able to slow it down considerably. The great log met the implacable warding, buckled, and split longways. Minerva was thrown onto the slate facade, and stunned by the impact. She slid senseless down the sheer wall, caught in the fastness of those spells, but the pain of friction brought her quickly back to herself. She tried desperately for a hand-hold, but she was moving too fast. A ledge stopped her feet abruptly--the upper border of a frieze of runes which topped the great bronze doors to the Crypt. And something, perhaps a strong sudden gust of air, stopped her from then tumbling backwards off the ledge. She leaned into the wall and tried not to breathe. She knew the doors themselves were over two storeys high and the frieze another six feet tall. One false move and she'd be in free fall again, and the only thing left to stop her would be the sharp, stony steps below, carved into the foot of the mountain.

"Well now, cousin, you seem to be at your end, do you not?" Cuthbert was right behind her, and fairly close from the sound of his voice. "Are you ready to surrender?"

Minerva had to turn around, to face her enemy, though she knew it would be a very tricky, dangerous maneuver. "I'm not the person who should be surrendering," she rasped, as she began the turn. She crossed one leg behind the other as if she was going to do a curtsey, then pressed one shoulder hard into the wall and swung the other out, her feet pivoting in the sandy scree of the ledge. Only then did she feel herself in danger when so much of her weight was off the cliff face, and that moment, surprisingly, she felt once again, something pressing in on her, like a breeze or--no--more like a gauzy netting, spread out over her body, keeping her from falling. She completed the turn and tried to relax, breathing deeply with her back to the wall.

"Very good, Coz. You could be a tight-rope walker in that Muggle circus your Squib uncle is with. But to get back to our negotiations, I think that we can assume your Aunt Donnie is effectively out of it. There's only you--and me."

"What do you mean? Donnie's fine." She tried to make the bluff sound like the truest thing she ever said.

"No. She's not. That ax I hit her with was coated with a strong anti-coagulent salve. And the wound was very deep. She'll have been bled white by now."

Minerva sagged inside momentarily. But she had faith in Goodie's potions. Perhaps Donnie was cured and even now racing to her aid--some way or other. She wouldn't be allowed to commandeer another broom. Nevertheless, Minerva sought to buy time. It wasn't right that she should surrender, not until she knew for sure that Donnie was defeated. "So, what do we do now?"

"It's entirely up to you. If you give up the guardianship to me--now--you can ride with me back to the Keep. If not, I'll have to go back by myself--and leave you here, since you're still technically the enemy and could try to sabotage me on the trip back. Then, when I hear the words from Donnie's own lips, I'll send someone back for you."

"You won't even help me down?"

"I wouldn't trust you as far as I could Banish you."

Minerva almost laughed. This great warlock was afraid of her--even if only a little bit. By moving her head a trifle, she could see that the ground was a long, long way down. She knew she'd never survive an hour out here, standing like this, in the cold, her legs numb, having been astraddle the Dreadnought half the night already. But she couldn't bring herself to say the words, "I give up."

"Have it your way." He made to turn the Comet about.

"Wait! Before you go, tell me, how did my father die--really?"

"What do you mean?"

"It seems such a coincidence, you ken. The yeti dragging those bones up to your mine, your so-called impenetrable Truss-Shield failing, and the scorch mark on my father's forehead."

"I don't know what you mean. Are you trying to say I had something to do with my uncle's death?"

"I am. You see, there was no force field holding up the ceiling that morning. Inachus Filch said so, though he didn't realize what he saw--or didn't see--since he's never visited the mine before. That means that all it would take was a little disturbance to bring the whole mountain down."

"Hush, girl--"

"Why did you do it? Just couldn't wait to take over the estate?"

"I never--the Shield wasn't supposed to--"

He was blustering, like the coward she knew him to be. That made her angrier still. "And that mark on my father. It looked just like the wound from a Blasting Spell. What did you do: put some kind of Geas on the yeti, to force it to steal the bones and bring them to the mine? You knew it would trigger an alarm spell Da had set on the hoarding, because he told Donnie and your mother about his plans to trap the Pogrebin's master. Was it your idea or hers for you to hide in the dark, waiting to knock my Da out with a Blast Spell, and then Apparate away as the rock started to fall?"

"No, she wouldn't--it wasn't like that--"

"What was it like then?"

"How did you think-- Never mind. You know, I wouldn't put it past you to tell this fantastic story to your aunts and that old biddie from the Ministry. They'll not believe you--hysterical underage witchling--but I couldn't take the chance--the Laird of Connghaill Keep must have an unblemished reputation."

"You'll never have the Keep. I'll fight you--"

"With what?" He laughed. "You're so like your mother. Stubborn, both of you--just won't give up. It looks like I'll have to do a Memory-Wipe on you. That way, you won't be spreading any lies about me. Now you'll be even more like her--clueless, but happy."

"How will you explain my memory loss?"

"I'll arrange you on the ground and give you a judicious bump on the head. They'll put it down to Muggle amnesia, I'm sure. The apple never falls very far from the tree." He raised his wand and straightened up in his seat, gathering strength. "Obliviate! he shouted.

Minerva shielded her head with her hands as she watched the bloom of energy spread out from Cuthbert's wand. It engulfed her, and she cried out against the oblivion to come. But as quickly as it had come, just as quickly it rebounded back to its caster, and lit her cousin up as if his clothes were on fire. He plummeted to the ground, missed the stone steps, and landed in a patch of heather, bounced slightly in the springy turf, and lay still. His falling as he did, backwards away from her, pushed the Comet towards her until it hovered just out of reach. She was afraid to grab it at first, but as she made a tentative motion towards it, she felt again that safety net tugging on her, steadying her, so that she was actually able to stretch out her hand without wavering and grasp the shaft. She climbed aboard and kicked off the ledge, feeling an infinitesimal snap, as if a cord holding her to the wall had broken. She flew to the ground and examined her cousin. He was unconscious and breathing shallowly.

She flew quickly back to the Keep. Minerva had a whispered conference with Brianag Doohan about her cousin's condition and his resting place. Healer Doohan called for volunteers for a rescue party. After they'd flown off, Lord Macnair unceremoniously handed the keys to the Keep officially to Donnie. There were cheers as Bobbie relayed the announcement of Aunt Donnie's victory to the crowd, even from the many who had bet against her.After a quick consultation with Goodie, Donnie invited everyone inside for an impromptu celebration.

But Minerva had no desire to join them. When her Aunt Charlamaine approached her to ask what had happened, Minerva just looked at her coldly and walked away. She knew now: this was the mother of the man who'd murdered her father. Yes, she knew this, and her ambitious aunt was likely in on the plot.

But she would wait to make her accusation until Cuthbert was brought back. Then she would proclaim it to everyone in the Great Hall. That way there could be no cover-up, no excuses. It would have to be investigated. The only question was, would Cuthbert remember any of it?

"Why are you sitting out here in the dark, my girl?" It was Donnie. "Reveling in your victory?"

"Our victory, Aunt Donnie. I'm so glad you're all right. Your wound was so--bloody."

"Goodie took care of it in a minute, and Conall did come for me, but I made short work of him. For all his skill, there's still a lot he doesn't know. What happened out there?"

"I'd rather wait and tell everyone at once. I'm waiting for Cuthbert, the coward."

"Why do you say that? He put on an excellent show. Everyone will be talking about those fireworks for weeks."

"I... I just realized something about him. Something horrible."

"What's that--other than that he's a big fraud?"

"What?"

"You didn't notice? Most of his spells weren't even O.W.L. level."

"What about those weapons he Conjured?"

"Hmph. That was merely a multiple Accio, barely third year. Filch just now checked the Armory and every last bit of steel has been torn off the walls, along with some stonework, and the windows are all broken. That doesn't take power, merely persistence. Even the doxies were likely Accioed from some cave or other--not conjured out of thin air or Transfigured. The Truss-Shield was his best work all evening."

"Yes. Too bad it wasn't up when my father went into the mine."

Donnie just looked at her. Minerva told her aunt her suspicions. "I wasn't going to say it until I could say it to his face, but it's true. Aunt Donnie, he killed my father, and I wouldn't be surprised if Aunt Charlamaine put him up to it." She expected Donnie to be surprised and as incensed as she was, but her aunt just stared at the ground for a few moments.

"Minerva, you can't make that accusation."

"What?"

"Your father's death... I'm convinced... was a tragic accident."

"But... "

"It's true, there were no wards, no strengthening of the supports in the mine that day. I worked that out after Filch told us his story. I'm afraid the death of your father was due to your cousin's shoddy spell-work and laziness."

"NO!"

"Yes." Donnie met her gaze and bored into it with her own smoldering eyes. "I feel as angry as you over what happened. I confronted Charlamaine with our findings, just before the wake, and she broke down, admitted that Cuthbert had been having trouble keeping his new-fangled strengthening charms in place, and he didn't check on them periodically as he was supposed to or put up any kind of barrier at the entrance. You saw how distraught she was."

"It could have been just a clever bit of acting." She thought back to Charlamaine's tear-streaked face, her heart-rending sobs as her husband led her away from the receiving line. "Or all right, maybe it was all Cuthbert's idea."

"It's not likely, my girl, given his personality. He's weak, Minerva, lazy, a charlatan, a liar at worst, but no killer. He hasn't the guts... or the brains for it, I don't think."

There was a commotion in the yard. The rescue party touched down with Cuthbert in a sling tied between two broomsticks. He was carried into the keep. Donnie stopped Brianag Doohan.

"How is he?"

"He's conscious. He'll live. But it's odd."

"What?" said Minerva.

"You told me he tried to do an Obliviate on you, and it rebounded back to him."

"He did. And it did."

"But his memory is just fine. He recognized me as soon as I did an Rennervate on him. And he denies attacking you."

"He would," said Minerva.

"Did you test his wand?" asked Donnie.

"Not yet. Here it is, if you want to. I'd better see to my patient. Let me know what you find."

Healer Doohan rushed into the Keep. Donnie took the wand and gave it to Minerva. She touched her own wand to Cuthbert's and said the words "Prior Incantato." A bit of smoke curled up out of Cuthbert's wand. It formed a small question mark.

"I know that mark," said Minerva. "It's the sign of a botched spell."

"Need I say more?" asked Donnie.

"So he's not a very good mage. So what?"

"He didn't kill your father. Not intentionally."

A small sob escaped Minerva's lips. "I don't believe it."

Donnie put her hands on her niece's shoulders. "I know how you feel. You want your father's death to be for an important reason. I do too. If he was killed because of his beliefs, or because someone was jealous of him, or wanted his title and lands, or hated the McGonagall name, that at least would mean he died for a reason that you can understand. But for him to have died because someone was lazy and stupid and careless is just about unbearable."

Minerva allowed herself to be pulled into an embrace, but she did not cry.

After a long, calming moment, her aunt released her. "Well, at least now we know the truth."

"Not all of it," said Minerva. "But we will. Is there an owl available, Aunt Donnie?"

"Certainly. Branagh and Ironbeak are both well rested. Why?"

"I need to get in touch with Professor Dumbledore."