Disclaimer and Copyright: This work of fiction is based on characters and settings created by J. K. Rowling. All recognisable characters, settings, and plot elements are copyright © Ms. Rowling and her assignees. The author believes this work falls within the scope of the Fair Use Doctrine as a transformative work. For more information, see the Organization for Transformative Works.

All original characters, settings, and plot elements are copyright © Cate Eliot. This work of fiction is available for use under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported (CC-BY-NC-SA 3.0) license.

Summary: The world knows her as the brave and stoic Transfiguration Professor. Her students know her as their strict, but fair teacher. The Dark Lord knows her as the only one he could never break. Her enemies consider her their greatest challenge. Her friends know her as a spitfire, a renaissance woman, a fight. Some simply know her as "Minerva". Part One of the Eyes of the Tempest Series. Minerva's 7th Year, 1953-1954.

Author's Note: This is the most complex and involved story I've ever worked on. I'm open to all criticism and interest. This is NOT connected or related to my other story with Minerva, "Nurmengard Chains". I had previous titled the first part of the Eyes of the Tempest series under "The Eyes of the Tempest", but I've decided to post each part separately under its own title. I'm been working on updating the entire story, adding new plot twists and side arches to develop a more complex story that I can continue on through Minerva's life. I really appreciate all feedback, good or bad. Please review.

September 1, 1947

When her name was called, Minerva McGonagall elegantly moved through the crowd around her with a grace rarely seen at eleven years old. She made her way up the stool where the Sorting Hat was waiting. She climbed onto the stool, uncomfortable, but not afraid, of all the attention now resting on her.

The tall auburn haired wizard who had introduced himself as Professor Albus Dumbledore, Deputy Headmaster, sat the old worn black pointed hat on her head and it slipped over her eyes, too big for her petite head.

The inside of the hat was black and there was a sudden quietness inside of her head. Her heartbeat sped up when no voice spoke to her, like her new friend from the train, Alastor Moody, had said it would.

It seemed like ages before the hat actually finished rummaging inside her mind.

Your brilliance is a startling rarity, Miss McGonagall, I have seen nothing like it which is an unsettling thought for a hat as old as I. The better question, I believe, is just what I'm going to do with you. You are guarded and I'm finding it troublesome, girl, you need to relax your mind.

Minerva did not like the idea of an enchanted hat rumbling around her mind, but did her best to comply with its wishes. She exhaled slowly and let her shoulder's relax.

Here we go, much better, there's a cleverness, oh my yes, and a thirst for knowledge and learning. And a memory that mirrors my own! You'll be an excellent pupil. Ravenclaw may be your home … yet what I there is something else. What am I to do with you? Your temperament eliminates Hufflepuff definitely; too much fire to be contained so easily.

The minutes ticked by and the student body around her began to become restless. "What's taking so long?" they whispered and Professor Dumbledore exchanged a confused look with Headmaster Armando Dippet.

I'm looking deeper now. Curious, your desire to stay in the shadows despite your raw power that seemingly pulses out of you. But, no you're riddled with restraint. Slytherin could push you on your way to greatness. Every soul has a shadow. You're a tricky one … there is a passion that nearly unhinges your very soul.

I see it now. You're powerful beyond belief, girl, make no mistake. Perhaps you will do well…

The hat fell abruptly silent. Minerva panicked slightly, wondering what had caused the hat to stop speaking. Had she broken it?

She was unaware, but around her the entire hall was in a state of angst. Headmaster Dippet was leaning forward, watching the unmoving girl and hat, as the other professors were doing as well.

For nearly five minutes, the girl and hat hadn't moved a muscle. No house was shouted. This was the second hatstall in Hogwarts history.

"Has something gone wrong?"

"Is she a Squib?"

"Something's happened…"

Only Professor Dumbledore seemed peacefully, carefully watching the young pale, raven haired girl with a gentle smile and twinkling eyes.

The seconds seemed to turn into minutes until the hat spoken again. There was something different this time, Minerva noted, something almost urgent and terrifying about its tone.

Listen true, girl, for these words are meant to help you. Your destiny was chosen directly from the hands of Fate itself. The tragedy in your heart is countered by outward beauty of your love. There is a great bravery beneath the power at your core and courage that beats within your veins. Never doubt the song of your soul, for his love to yours lies in the heart of the lion's den.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Minerva blinked in surprise at the strange message, but smiled, and slid down off the stool. The Gryffindor table was cheering loudly, most standing up on their seats for having claimed the hatstall.

"Congratulations, my dear."

She turned to look up at the smiling face of the Professor Albus Dumbledore. His blue eyes twinkled as he met her brilliant green ones.

"And welcome to Gryffindor."