My father’s voice was the most comforting sound in the world. I loved listening to him, particularly when he told his stories because then it would change as he did the various voices, rising and falling like the ocean’s tide. He didn’t tell the story, he was the story, and I would watch with fascination as it unfolded around me. His melodious voice would soar, and begin:
So the four of them sat by the prairie dog hole, and they thought and thought and thought and thought. They were so quiet that the prairie dog stuck his head up, and when he saw them, he stayed still and joined in the thinking.
“There is a sun,” said Saynday at last.
“Where is it?” asked Fox.
“It’s on the other side of the world,” said Saynday.
“What’s it doing over there?” asked Deer.
“The people who’ve go it won’t let it go,” answered Saynday.
“What good is it to us, then?” asked Magpie.
(Father’s voice would reach a high and querulous note as he voiced the magpie’s complaint and Mother would scold “hush, you’ll wake the baby!” as she rocked Will on her lap. But she never really minded, because she loved Father’s voice just as much as I did.
He would smile impishly at her and continue, his rich voice caressing each word carefully as he sent it out. But he was careful, and never did wake up Will.)
“Not any,” said Saynday. “I guess we’d better do something about it.”
So they sat, and they thought, and they sat and they thought some more. Then none of them moved at all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Here it is,” Minerva said, waving one hand grandly. “The Phoenix House.”
“Rising up from the ashes,” Helene murmured as her eyes swept over the building in an appraising glance.
It was a large and well built house of golden stone with a rosy blush. Two small wings swept out from the large central block, and myriad windows glistened like diamond eyes in the sun. The grounds around the building were muddy, yet spacious, and sheltering trees set it apart from the village of Hogsmeade.
“We’ve actually separated the left-hand wing from the rest of the house, except for one connecting door that is warded, so that the babies and small children will be kept separate for everyone’s piece of mind.” Minerva grimaced. “We spent more time and money on soundproofing the walls so that your brood wouldn’t wake up the babies or vice-versa than we spent on the rest of the renovations. Would you like to see the inside?”
“Yes, please,” Helene responded eagerly as Minerva led the way to the beautifully carved wooden front door.
“The lower levels are all common areas,” Minerva continued as she led the way into the entrance foyer. “The two doors to the left are the classrooms.”
Helene crossed the parquet to crack open the near left door. A large, well lit room lined with desks met her eyes. It was not quite fully outfitted, the bookshelves on the far wall were mostly empty, and a large gap appeared on another wall where a small note pinned to the wall informed the viewer that a chalkboard would be coming in on Friday.
“It’s a little plain,” Helene said hesitantly.
“We thought we should let the teachers we’ve hired have a chance to make changes to their own satisfaction. And I’m sure the children will add things of their own quite quickly.”
Helene nodded thoughtfully and allowed herself to be led back across the hall.
“On the right we have a sitting room where everyone can gather in the evenings.” Minerva led Helene into a room that suddenly reminded her of the Ravenclaw Common Room with its squashy armchairs scattered around the stone fireplace. Several smaller tables sat in the corners, “for work or for games,” Minerva explained. The rest of the walls were lined with small bookcases, some to contain games and toys, but the rest to be filled with books.
Absently, Helene ran a finger down several of the spines before stopping with a frown. “The Arte of Potion Makeings? Hogwarts a History? Life Cycles of the Centuar Tick? Minerva, you can’t be serious. These aren’t for the children are they?”
Minerva had the grace to look sheepish. “They’re educational.”
“They’re ridiculous,” Helene countered. “First thing I’ll do is get real books for the children. Will and my old ones are still at the Estate. I’ll pick them up; thanks to Father we had most of the essentials. We will need some others of course; I’ll brush up on what’s new…”
“Just like your father,” Minerva murmured with a smile. “Would you like to see the rest of the house and continue planning your library later?”
Helene smiled back ruefully. “Lead on!”
Soon, Minerva had pulled her through a large dining room dominated by a long wooden table that spanned it’s length, a large kitchen that was to be staffed by a couple of the House Elves from Hogwarts who volunteered for the job, and a large play room that was stuffed to the gills with toys of all shapes and sizes and guaranteed to delight most children’s hearts. Crossing back to the main entry way Minerva swept up the gently curving stair to the upper floor. The left wing was cut off by a magically warded wall on which hung a monstrously ugly picture of a cow. Helene cast a disparaging glance at the art, noting the cow glaring rather balefully back, before following Minerva to the right.
“These rooms,” Minerva said, gesturing to the row of doors closest to the stairs, “will be for the staff.”
Pulling open one of the doors Helene could see a rather elegant, if small sitting room. Through another door to the rear a bit of bedroom crept into sight.
“They also have private baths,” Minerva added with a note of pride and Helene sighed inwardly in relief. She did not wish to share with Hestia, no matter how much she might like the older witch.
Leading Helene further down the corridor, Minerva continued. “Starting here we have the children’s rooms. They will be either two or four to a room, depending on the size of the room and the age of the child. Hestia’s promised to work out the dormitory arrangements for them, so you’ll want to address any questions you have on that to her. There are common bathrooms between every two rooms. Girls will be on one side of the hall and boys on the other, and the rooms charmed to keep the opposite sex out.”
“Aren’t they a little young to have to worry about that?”
“I’d rather not have any reason to start,” Minerva said dryly. “Naturally, you and the other chaperones will be able to get into any of the rooms without repercussions.”
“Naturally,” Helene grinned.
“Cheeky,” Minerva complained as she pushed open the final door at the end of the hall. “This room will serve as the infirmary. Will it do for you?”
The room was large and well lit by four picture windows. Creamy wallpaper striped with green vines and delicate pink flowers softened the sterile atmosphere created by six pristine white beds. Two large cabinets were set against the wall; peering inside, Helene was gratified to see that they contained a large supply of common potions and ingredients, linen bandages, towels, basins, and clean white sheets.
“There’s chocolate in the drawer,” Minerva added as Helene explored. “And chocolate and tea sets on the upper left shelf.”
“It’s lovely,” Helene said, a pleased yet puzzled note in her voice. “But where am I to brew?”
Minerva gestured to a landscape on the wall. “Behind here.” Knocking firmly on the wooden frame she commanded, “Open up, you dolt!”
A door suddenly appeared in the wall, its large brass handle in the center of the green meadows of the painting. Helene grasped it eagerly, pulling the door open as Minerva commented apologetically, “We can change the password to anything you want. Hestia set it up and I’m afraid her sense of humor ran away with her again.”
“Nonsense,” Helene countered. “It seems perfectly logical, and easy to remember.” She stepped inside the room. “Oh, Lord.”
The room was nothing like the dark and dank dungeons she had brewed in at Hogwarts, nor was it the hospital setting with eye-watering yellow artificial light she had become so used to in her university training. The room was bright and airy, golden light from a plethora of windows pouring in. The portions of wall not covered by windows were full of bookshelves, empty and waiting. The floor itself was covered in smooth flagstones that would be impervious to heat or spills.
“I took the liberty of sending for your things from the lab,” Minerva said, indicating the large pile of boxes and cauldrons waiting innocuously in the middle of the floor.
“I can die happy, now.” Helene’s fingers itched to begin sorting and organizing her things; she laced them firmly behind her in a futile attempt to quell the urge.
Minerva smiled. “I know you’re dying to make sure everything travelled well so I’ll leave you be.”
Helene gave a rueful laugh, already on her hands and knees by her boxes. “Thanks, Auntie. You may need to send someone up for me at suppertime if I forget to come down.”
“I’ll come myself. In the meantime, I’ve a visit to make to find our last staff member.”
“That’s nice,” Helene replied absently, pulling out file after file of notes.
“Yes. We have the main staff covered, but I would like a man around for the boys to talk to since it seems there will be an overabundance of mothers. It’s just been rather trying to find one I can trust…”
“Mhhhm.”
Minerva gave up, resigned to the fact that Helene’s attention obviously lay elsewhere.
“Don’t work too hard,” Minerva admonished. Then she stepped back through the portrait hole and her echoing footsteps disappeared down the hall.
~
Minerva’s shoes clicked a sharp tattoo as she followed the Healer down the sterile halls of St. Mungo’s.
“You’re lucky you came when you did,” the Healer chatted blithely as she led the way. “He’s being discharged tomorrow and you might have missed him altogether. And wouldn’t that have been a shame? Especially after all that poor man has been through. And to think that Mr. Potter’s even gone to all the trouble of getting him an Order of Merlin- well, doesn’t that just beat all? It must be such an honor!”
“Indeed,” Minerva said dryly, highly doubting that the recipient would take any pleasure in such an award.
Something quelling in her tone must have reached through to the Healer for the short woman finally held her tongue for the final few feet of the journey. “Well, Headmistress, here he is. I’ll leave you at it. There’s a bell inside; just ring if you need any aid.”
Minerva shook her head as she watched the younger witch retreat; how did a girl like that ever become a Healer? Her tongue seemed to be hinged in the middle! Turning her thoughts back to the task at hand, she rapped sharply on the door three times before letting herself into the room.
The hospital bed in the middle of the room was conspicuously empty and at first Minerva was afraid she was too late until she noticed a slight light and splashing coming from a door at the edge of the room. A moment later there was the sound of a tap being turned off before the gaunt figure of a man walked back into the room, his face half buried in a towel.
“You’re looking well, Severus.”
The man started, and dropped the towel at her voice before relaxing his face into a customary scowl. “I believe you meant to say I’m looking like death warmed over,” Snape corrected. “According to many of the nitwits here I ought to be on my deathbed.”
“You can hardly blame people for being concerned.”
“It would have been much easier for everyone if I died,” Snape said bitterly. “But since some meddler decided I should live, I’ll be damned if I lie here all day instead of doing something useful.”
Minerva smiled at his declaration, and sank down onto the side of the bed, gesturing for him to take the chair at its side. “Which is precisely why I’ve come to see you. If you wish, there is of course your old post at Hogwarts…”
“No.” The vehemence in his voice startled him. “Please accept my formal resignation, but I cannot return to Hogwarts. Not yet.”
“I can’t say I suspected otherwise,” Minerva agreed. “But I do have another option. Remember Dumbledore’s plans to create the war orphanage? Hestia and I have done it. We’re calling it the Phoenix House. I believe it has turned out very well so far.”
Snape waited, his eyes hard. “But what does this have to do with me?”
“I want you to help me run it.”
Snape snorted and rose to his feet. “Preposterous.”
“It is nothing of the sort,” Minerva protested indignantly. “Stop pacing and listen. You always took the best care of your students as Head of House, don’t think I didn’t notice that. And we need a male influence at the house, someone the boys can talk to. You would have plenty of time to continue working on your potions or research or to do as you pleased. And since there are still a few Death Eaters and sympathizers running loose, I’d feel much better leaving the children with some protection.”
“Minerva...,” Snape growled.
“Don’t take that tone with me, Severus. I’ve watched you throw your life away once already, and if you think I’m going to let you slink off and hide, then you’ve got another thing coming.”
Snape stiffened, stalking back into the bathroom for a moment to collect himself. “All right,” he grudgingly acquiesced. “But only until you find someone more suitable to replace me. I will not be permanently shackled to your houseful of brats.”
Minerva rose to her feet with an air of poorly suppressed triumph. “Wonderful. The children will be coming in a week, so I shall expect you a few days beforehand.”
Ignoring her, Snape continued to throw his meager belongings together. “You can show yourself out, I trust?”
Wisely refraining from any further comment, Minerva walked out the door, delighted with the way her plans were coming together at last.