Work Text:
“… never heard of such a thing before! Two first year students making such a havoc after only one week of school! I’m bewildered, and extremely disappointed! I hope you understand the gravity of the situation. The fact that you’re good in Transfiguration doesn’t authorize you to use it on other students! Never, in my career as Head of —”
“Desolate to interrupt you, but do you happen to have a biscuit, by any chance? It’d make things cozier, you know, since you brought us here before breakfast.”
Minerva stops, completely taken aback, all her indignation gone. She stares a Potter, who’s amused – smug, even.
“A biscuit?” she asks, so incredulous that she can’t even bring herself to be outraged.
“You know, those round little things made with butter, sugar and flour,” says Black, utterly nonplussed, looking totally relaxed on his comfy chair – she really needs to pick more uncomfortable sits, no matter what Albus thinks. “You can take them with tea, eat them at breakfast, whatever. They’re pretty versatile.”
“My mother makes the best Ginger Newts ever, you should really try them.”
“I can absolutely vouch for that. She’s already sent three packets to the spoiled brat over there, and I swear my house elf can’t make them tastier.”
“My ungrateful mate forgot to say the reason my mother sent three packets is that he ate most of them.”
“And I don’t regret it in the slightest.”
“She has a secret recipe, and we all know she consideres it more valuable that my father’s Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion formula. Well, former formula. I guess it says a lot that he doesn’t own it anymore, but my mother still has her rec—”
“ENOUGH! Fifty point from Gryffindor and –”
“Fifty?!”
“Fifty each.”
***
“Professor!” exclaims Potter cheerful, entering her office without even knocking.
Minerva sighs. “What is it, now?”
“Well, you know, I heard someone is getting older, today…”
She stills, abashed. “Who told you?”
“Oh, just a common friend of ours who’s identity shall remain secret,” he says, raising his hand defensively. “No, please, don’t insist, I really can’t tell you that his third name is Wulfric,” he adds with a wink.
Minerva huffs, rolling her eyes. “Of course it was him. He must have found it very amusing.”
“He said you’d be secretly pleased,” says James whit a smirk.
“Pleased that a student of mine is delighted to tell me I’m getting older?”
Potter opens his bags and pulls out a tartan tin, laying it on her desk with a triumphant grin, his eyes shining with mirth.
“Pleased that the aforementioned student asked his mother to bake her very special Ginger Newts for his son’s favorite teacher’s birthday.”
Minerva keeps staring at Potter, astonished.
“For the record,” he resumes, “I may have promised Wuflric that in exchange for that piece of information I’d convince you to share them with him over tea, so don’t make me look bad.”
Potter drums his fingers on the box with a faster and faster pace and finally, with a dramatic gesture, he opens the tin. “Happy birthday, professor! Have a biscuit!”
***
Dear Minnie,
Now that my mother isn’t there anymore, I reckon you should be the one to treasure it.
I know you’ll put it at good use.
Happy birthday,
James
Ingredients for 24 Ginger Newts:
2 cups plain flour
1 tsp baking soda
2 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup sugar
6 tbsp molasses or dark treacle
1/4 cup vegetable oil
2 tsp ener-g + 4 tbsp water
1 tbsp raw ginger, minced
A mother’s love