MINNY MCGONAGAL'S SCHOOLDAYS
Author: Catherine E. Grant
A/N: Sorry, couldn't think of a better title. Please
R/R!
Summary: Minerva wasn't always the perfect student
everyone assumes she was. Also why she & Trelawney hate
each other.
Disclaimer: Hmmm…If you recognise the names they belong
to J.K. Rowling. Simple. If you don't, they're mine.
The story is also mine. Hogwarts is not.
~~~~
MINNY MCGONAGAL'S SCHOOLDAYS
~~~~
Frantically the girl raced along the corridors of
Hogwarts, clutching her Transfigurations book in one hand
and a battered quill and wand in the other. The pounding
of her shoes raised little notice from the silent walls
around her for no one heard her pass. She was late.
Again.
"Hell!" she swore through gritted teeth. Professor
Dumbledore wasn't going to be very happy. Already, the
normally easy-going Transfigurations teacher, who just
happened to also be the head of Gryffindor house, wasn't
very impressed with the latest representative of the
McGonagall clan. This would be the fourth time she'd
received detention from him this week. For the same
reason.
As she ran, Minny tried to reason with herself. It
wasn't like she purposely slept in, after all, and she
hadn't done her homework because someone hid her book.
It sounded plausible, though she had little doubt he'd
fail to believe her. With a skid she arrived at her
classroom and fell heavily against the door. It swung
inward and the girl stumbled inside, dropping her book
and quill and tripping over her robes. She swore as she
landed in a disorderly heap on the pristine floor. The
sound of tearing fabric alerted her to the fact that
she'd torn her robes – again. This would make it the
second time this month. Hell.
Maybe Dumbledore wasn't in yet? Under her breath she
whispered a soft prayer. Gasping slightly she pushed her
disarrayed glasses back onto the bridge of her nose and
dared a glance upwards. Her eyes met polished black
boots. Glistening purple robes. Grey beard. The
furious eyes of one Professor Albus Dumbledore.
"So glad you could join us, Miss McGonagall," he said
icily. Someone in the class snickered. Sharply he
picked up her Transfigurations book and the quill,
straightening the ruffled feathers and the bent pages.
Minerva's heart sank as she watched him place them on his
desk then turn his attention back to her. "I am very
disappointed in you" Dumbledore enunciated clearly,
making every word feel like a lash against her skin. The
girl flinched. "Fifty points from Gryffindor – yes, I
will take points from my own house, please take note of
that in the future - for treating your equipment with
such disrespect. Someday your life may depend upon
taking care of your tools. Fifty points from Gryffindor
for being late. Fifty points for your appearance. Fifty
points for not doing your homework…"
Minerva found her voice. "You haven't asked me if I've
done my homework or not!" she protested weakly.
"Have you?" he asked evenly.
Hurriedly she shook her head. "No, but that's not the
point…" her words faded away as Dumbledore began to
laugh. "For all your faults, Miss McGonagall, you are a
true Gryffindor. But bravery-" and here he marked his
words by waving a finger "-is alas not the only thing you
will ever need. Homework, believe it or not, is actually
an essential part of life, especially for us mere mortals
who can't expect to know everything perfectly the first
time. Now, get to your seat." As she clambered to her
feet he handed her her things and she took them eyes
downcast, cheeks flaming. She'd lost two hundred points
from Gryffindor in one morning! Silently she slunk to
her seat as Dumbledore turned again to the rest of the
class to continue the lesson.
Minerva hunched over her desk and chewed the end of her
pen. Sybill Trelawney kept sending her gloating looks,
nudging her friends and pointing. When she caught their
eyes they all subsided into giggling. Furious, she
clenched her teeth and swore that she'd get Trelawney
back if it took her twenty years. That silly little
Hufflepuff would get what was coming to her and she,
Minerva McGonagall, would be the one to give it to her.
The vow took some of the edge from her shame but she
still flushed whenever she looked at any Gryffindors.
Most of them wouldn't meet her gaze.
I'll show them, she thought. I'll give them a reason to
talk to me again. I'll give Father a reason to be proud
of me, show my stupid brothers and sisters, damn them
all! that I'm just as clever as they are, rub Trelawney's
superior face into the difference between us! I'll get
her good and proper.
"Miss McGonagall?" Professor Dumbledore's slightly amused
voice broke into her thoughts and rapidly Minerva
realised she had broken her quill and was digging claw
marks into the surface of the desk. One realisation
followed another as she discovered she was the only
student left in the room. Her cheeks flamed a deeper
scarlet. How long had she been sitting here? Long
enough, apparently.
"Thinking revengeful thoughts?" he asked, studying her
intently. The girl's hair bobbed frantically as she
firmly shook her head. "No sir," she answered, thankful
her voice was still steady. Killing Trelawney didn't
count as revenge, that was just doing her part for the
greater good of Hogwarts. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.
"You've been given Miss Trelawney the evil eye for the
past hour" he commented. "I do believe the dear child is
terrified of you. Please don't do anything rash you
might regret."
Rash? Maybe. Regret it? Never.
Once again, the Transfiguration teacher proved why some
students accused him of being able to read minds when he
replied "Perhaps you won't regret what you do, when you
do it, but if you get expelled you might."
Get expelled?!
Minerva stared at him in horror. "Expel me?" she asked
in a little voice. He nodded. "It is, I must say, an
unfortunate possibility."
"But…"
"Miss McGonagall, your grades leave a lot to be desired.
Your attitude is appalling. Your conduct, frankly, is
disappointing and shameful, and you have the longest list
of demerits of any student in this school's history. Any
ill-meaning action on your part towards Miss Trelawney
would almost certainly result in your expulsion from
Hogwarts."
"I'm not that bad, am I?" Minerva asked softly.
Expelled? Perhaps another wizarding school would take
her, but she doubted it. Not even Beaubaxtons, tolerant
though they were, would accept 'leavings' from Hogwarts.
The English school of Wizardry was known for putting up
with things no other school would tolerate.
And they would expel her.
Dumbledore was watching her expectantly. "It's not a
pleasant thought, is it?" he asked finally.
She shook her head. "No sir."
"This is your fifth year. You have the potential to be a
great witch if you apply yourself. I don't want to see
you thrown out because you couldn't control your
aggressive tendencies. Miss Trelawney may irritate you
but I don't believe revenge is worth expulsion. Surely
if you got yourself thrown out you would be doing her a
favour? That is hardly good revenge, Minerva."
It was the first time he ever used her first name. It
made her look at him, look at him properly. Beneath the
serious exterior there was a twinkle of good humour in
his dark eyes, and smile creases marred his weathered
face. But of what she expected to see, pity, there was
no sign. It dared her to think she might actually have a
chance left at Hogwarts.
Quietly she shook her head, slumped miserably in her
seat. "What use is there, sir?" she asked calmly. "Even
if I tried to work now, I'd be bound to fail, so I'd only
be burning myself out for little result. I'm not the
sort of person who can just turn around and make
something of my life."
"Yes, yes you are" murmured Dumbledore softly, placing
his hands over her own clenched ones. "I have faith in
you Minerva, you will become an incredible witch. You
will be the greatest McGonagall to ever attend Hogwarts.
Please don't think that because everyone else in your
family has done well that to stand out you must fail.
You don't. You WILL make something of yourself, WILL
become the person you are meant to be. You WON'T be
expelled, and you WON'T slide into the gutter."
A single tear slipped down the girl's face and the man
moved one of his hands to gently wipe it away. "Yes,
I've heard what some of the students and unfortunately,
some of the teachers, say about you. I DON'T BELIEVE
THEM. NEITHER SHOULD YOU. Just because everyone around
you say you're a failure doesn't mean you are, it doesn't
mean you have to listen to them."
Slowly, Minerva nodded. She began to sniff as more tears
fought their way into the world and trickled down her
face in search of adventure. At Dumbledore's words, so
innocent and full of faith, her hard facade cracked and
she found herself little able to suppress the emotions
that surged out of her. She wept, and he let her cry.
"If you really want to make a go of this, and I think you
should, I'll teach you myself," he encouraged. "I think
that with extra lessons in everything to bring you up to
scratch, and then continued effort in each area, you
could even become head girl."
She snorted. "Me? Head girl? Next you'll say I should
become a teacher!" The thought was ludicrous.
Silently he handed her a tissue from a large, emerald box
that appeared floating at his shoulder. Minerva dried
her eyes and blew her nose. What if she agreed? She
wouldn't be expelled, but she'd be the laughingstock of
Hogwarts once Trelawney and her gang found out what she
was doing. Apart from Dumbledore – and even that had
come as a surprise – none of the other teachers even
liked her. Especially not Professor Bicknell, the
headmaster. Part of that, she was sure, was because he
was from Slytherin house but most of it was personal
dislike. Or hatred, that was a better word. He seemed
to loathe her more with every moment. She half expected
him to take points off her for breathing!
But she was mostly a laughingstock anyway. Before her,
she would have seriously doubted that anyone could make
it to the fifth year without making at least one good
friend, but she was proof it was possible. Part her wish
to not be there, part her attitude, behaviour,
grades…part the fact that she was supposed to live up to
one heck of a family tradition and it drove her crazy.
All the students from the old wizarding families looked
down at her with disgust and pity, and all the
muggleborns seemed absolutely petrified of her. Just
because she'd broken a few bones on her first night, at
dinner. Funny, the bruises had improved them. It had
all been Trelawney's fault anyway. If she hadn't called
Minerva a bitch, she wouldn't have hit her, and then no
one else would have tried to intervene, and she wouldn't
have hurt anyone. Funny that reputations seemed to
spread faster than anything in this school – and hers
wasn't particularly nice. So naturally it spread faster
than anyone's. And Minerva remained alone. And bitter.
Her decision was made even before she realised she was
nodding, and Dumbledore was patting her on the shoulder
saying "Good girl" and "Meet me in my office after the
evening meal and we'll begin." He handed her a final
tissue and tapped the box with his wand. It disappeared
with a faint plop. "Tonight, Miss McGonagall,
Transfiguration. It will be interesting to see what you
actually know. Now, I believe you have a robe to mend?"
Giving her an encouraging smile, he collected his books
and swept out, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Silently she picked up her own stuff, absently trying to
straighten the broken quill before deciding it was a lost
cause and throwing it away. Her brow furrowed in
thought. Pulling out her wand, she pointed it at the
matted feather and barked a single word. The quill
shuddered. Expectantly she waited. Finally it gave a
twitch and turned into an apple. Not a good beginning.
Picking it up anyway she tucked it away in the sleeve of
her robe. "Why Dumbledore thinks he can teach me is
beyond me" Minerva muttered fatalistically, striding out
of the empty room. She wasn't head girl material. She
wasn't a proper Gryffindor. She wasn't even a proper
McGonagall. All her siblings had always topped their
years. Most now had high positions in the Ministry of
Magic. James was the closest in age to her and he was
Potions Master at Durmstrang. She wondered, as she often
had, if it was the great age difference between herself
and the other kids that made them such opposites.
Perhaps there was just something in her blood. Nah. Now
I'm sounding like Trelawney, she scolded herself. The
pressure on her to keep up the family standard was too
much. They expected miracles, hell, demanded miracles
from her, and always had. No child should grow up like
that, Minerva vowed then; if she were ever to have any
children she'd make sure there were no unrealistic
expectations for them to live up to, and make sure they
knew they only had to do what they felt they could.
She'd give them a childhood. And maybe, just maybe,
she'd steal her own back.
Whistling, feeling more cheerful now than she had in
months – since she'd suspended Trelawney from the
chandelier in the great hall by her feet – she set off
for the Gryffindor common room. After all, she wasn't
forgetting the idea of revenge, was she? She was just
putting it off for a little while. Until she graduated,
anyway.
As Head Girl.
Trelawney wouldn't know what hit her.
END
A/N: A random fic, not something I want to make a series
out of, this doesn't make me happy at all but I thoguht I
post it just to see what people thought. Now I'll get
back to working on my Remus/Minerva fic.
Author: Catherine E. Grant
A/N: Sorry, couldn't think of a better title. Please
R/R!
Summary: Minerva wasn't always the perfect student
everyone assumes she was. Also why she & Trelawney hate
each other.
Disclaimer: Hmmm…If you recognise the names they belong
to J.K. Rowling. Simple. If you don't, they're mine.
The story is also mine. Hogwarts is not.
~~~~
MINNY MCGONAGAL'S SCHOOLDAYS
~~~~
Frantically the girl raced along the corridors of
Hogwarts, clutching her Transfigurations book in one hand
and a battered quill and wand in the other. The pounding
of her shoes raised little notice from the silent walls
around her for no one heard her pass. She was late.
Again.
"Hell!" she swore through gritted teeth. Professor
Dumbledore wasn't going to be very happy. Already, the
normally easy-going Transfigurations teacher, who just
happened to also be the head of Gryffindor house, wasn't
very impressed with the latest representative of the
McGonagall clan. This would be the fourth time she'd
received detention from him this week. For the same
reason.
As she ran, Minny tried to reason with herself. It
wasn't like she purposely slept in, after all, and she
hadn't done her homework because someone hid her book.
It sounded plausible, though she had little doubt he'd
fail to believe her. With a skid she arrived at her
classroom and fell heavily against the door. It swung
inward and the girl stumbled inside, dropping her book
and quill and tripping over her robes. She swore as she
landed in a disorderly heap on the pristine floor. The
sound of tearing fabric alerted her to the fact that
she'd torn her robes – again. This would make it the
second time this month. Hell.
Maybe Dumbledore wasn't in yet? Under her breath she
whispered a soft prayer. Gasping slightly she pushed her
disarrayed glasses back onto the bridge of her nose and
dared a glance upwards. Her eyes met polished black
boots. Glistening purple robes. Grey beard. The
furious eyes of one Professor Albus Dumbledore.
"So glad you could join us, Miss McGonagall," he said
icily. Someone in the class snickered. Sharply he
picked up her Transfigurations book and the quill,
straightening the ruffled feathers and the bent pages.
Minerva's heart sank as she watched him place them on his
desk then turn his attention back to her. "I am very
disappointed in you" Dumbledore enunciated clearly,
making every word feel like a lash against her skin. The
girl flinched. "Fifty points from Gryffindor – yes, I
will take points from my own house, please take note of
that in the future - for treating your equipment with
such disrespect. Someday your life may depend upon
taking care of your tools. Fifty points from Gryffindor
for being late. Fifty points for your appearance. Fifty
points for not doing your homework…"
Minerva found her voice. "You haven't asked me if I've
done my homework or not!" she protested weakly.
"Have you?" he asked evenly.
Hurriedly she shook her head. "No, but that's not the
point…" her words faded away as Dumbledore began to
laugh. "For all your faults, Miss McGonagall, you are a
true Gryffindor. But bravery-" and here he marked his
words by waving a finger "-is alas not the only thing you
will ever need. Homework, believe it or not, is actually
an essential part of life, especially for us mere mortals
who can't expect to know everything perfectly the first
time. Now, get to your seat." As she clambered to her
feet he handed her her things and she took them eyes
downcast, cheeks flaming. She'd lost two hundred points
from Gryffindor in one morning! Silently she slunk to
her seat as Dumbledore turned again to the rest of the
class to continue the lesson.
Minerva hunched over her desk and chewed the end of her
pen. Sybill Trelawney kept sending her gloating looks,
nudging her friends and pointing. When she caught their
eyes they all subsided into giggling. Furious, she
clenched her teeth and swore that she'd get Trelawney
back if it took her twenty years. That silly little
Hufflepuff would get what was coming to her and she,
Minerva McGonagall, would be the one to give it to her.
The vow took some of the edge from her shame but she
still flushed whenever she looked at any Gryffindors.
Most of them wouldn't meet her gaze.
I'll show them, she thought. I'll give them a reason to
talk to me again. I'll give Father a reason to be proud
of me, show my stupid brothers and sisters, damn them
all! that I'm just as clever as they are, rub Trelawney's
superior face into the difference between us! I'll get
her good and proper.
"Miss McGonagall?" Professor Dumbledore's slightly amused
voice broke into her thoughts and rapidly Minerva
realised she had broken her quill and was digging claw
marks into the surface of the desk. One realisation
followed another as she discovered she was the only
student left in the room. Her cheeks flamed a deeper
scarlet. How long had she been sitting here? Long
enough, apparently.
"Thinking revengeful thoughts?" he asked, studying her
intently. The girl's hair bobbed frantically as she
firmly shook her head. "No sir," she answered, thankful
her voice was still steady. Killing Trelawney didn't
count as revenge, that was just doing her part for the
greater good of Hogwarts. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.
"You've been given Miss Trelawney the evil eye for the
past hour" he commented. "I do believe the dear child is
terrified of you. Please don't do anything rash you
might regret."
Rash? Maybe. Regret it? Never.
Once again, the Transfiguration teacher proved why some
students accused him of being able to read minds when he
replied "Perhaps you won't regret what you do, when you
do it, but if you get expelled you might."
Get expelled?!
Minerva stared at him in horror. "Expel me?" she asked
in a little voice. He nodded. "It is, I must say, an
unfortunate possibility."
"But…"
"Miss McGonagall, your grades leave a lot to be desired.
Your attitude is appalling. Your conduct, frankly, is
disappointing and shameful, and you have the longest list
of demerits of any student in this school's history. Any
ill-meaning action on your part towards Miss Trelawney
would almost certainly result in your expulsion from
Hogwarts."
"I'm not that bad, am I?" Minerva asked softly.
Expelled? Perhaps another wizarding school would take
her, but she doubted it. Not even Beaubaxtons, tolerant
though they were, would accept 'leavings' from Hogwarts.
The English school of Wizardry was known for putting up
with things no other school would tolerate.
And they would expel her.
Dumbledore was watching her expectantly. "It's not a
pleasant thought, is it?" he asked finally.
She shook her head. "No sir."
"This is your fifth year. You have the potential to be a
great witch if you apply yourself. I don't want to see
you thrown out because you couldn't control your
aggressive tendencies. Miss Trelawney may irritate you
but I don't believe revenge is worth expulsion. Surely
if you got yourself thrown out you would be doing her a
favour? That is hardly good revenge, Minerva."
It was the first time he ever used her first name. It
made her look at him, look at him properly. Beneath the
serious exterior there was a twinkle of good humour in
his dark eyes, and smile creases marred his weathered
face. But of what she expected to see, pity, there was
no sign. It dared her to think she might actually have a
chance left at Hogwarts.
Quietly she shook her head, slumped miserably in her
seat. "What use is there, sir?" she asked calmly. "Even
if I tried to work now, I'd be bound to fail, so I'd only
be burning myself out for little result. I'm not the
sort of person who can just turn around and make
something of my life."
"Yes, yes you are" murmured Dumbledore softly, placing
his hands over her own clenched ones. "I have faith in
you Minerva, you will become an incredible witch. You
will be the greatest McGonagall to ever attend Hogwarts.
Please don't think that because everyone else in your
family has done well that to stand out you must fail.
You don't. You WILL make something of yourself, WILL
become the person you are meant to be. You WON'T be
expelled, and you WON'T slide into the gutter."
A single tear slipped down the girl's face and the man
moved one of his hands to gently wipe it away. "Yes,
I've heard what some of the students and unfortunately,
some of the teachers, say about you. I DON'T BELIEVE
THEM. NEITHER SHOULD YOU. Just because everyone around
you say you're a failure doesn't mean you are, it doesn't
mean you have to listen to them."
Slowly, Minerva nodded. She began to sniff as more tears
fought their way into the world and trickled down her
face in search of adventure. At Dumbledore's words, so
innocent and full of faith, her hard facade cracked and
she found herself little able to suppress the emotions
that surged out of her. She wept, and he let her cry.
"If you really want to make a go of this, and I think you
should, I'll teach you myself," he encouraged. "I think
that with extra lessons in everything to bring you up to
scratch, and then continued effort in each area, you
could even become head girl."
She snorted. "Me? Head girl? Next you'll say I should
become a teacher!" The thought was ludicrous.
Silently he handed her a tissue from a large, emerald box
that appeared floating at his shoulder. Minerva dried
her eyes and blew her nose. What if she agreed? She
wouldn't be expelled, but she'd be the laughingstock of
Hogwarts once Trelawney and her gang found out what she
was doing. Apart from Dumbledore – and even that had
come as a surprise – none of the other teachers even
liked her. Especially not Professor Bicknell, the
headmaster. Part of that, she was sure, was because he
was from Slytherin house but most of it was personal
dislike. Or hatred, that was a better word. He seemed
to loathe her more with every moment. She half expected
him to take points off her for breathing!
But she was mostly a laughingstock anyway. Before her,
she would have seriously doubted that anyone could make
it to the fifth year without making at least one good
friend, but she was proof it was possible. Part her wish
to not be there, part her attitude, behaviour,
grades…part the fact that she was supposed to live up to
one heck of a family tradition and it drove her crazy.
All the students from the old wizarding families looked
down at her with disgust and pity, and all the
muggleborns seemed absolutely petrified of her. Just
because she'd broken a few bones on her first night, at
dinner. Funny, the bruises had improved them. It had
all been Trelawney's fault anyway. If she hadn't called
Minerva a bitch, she wouldn't have hit her, and then no
one else would have tried to intervene, and she wouldn't
have hurt anyone. Funny that reputations seemed to
spread faster than anything in this school – and hers
wasn't particularly nice. So naturally it spread faster
than anyone's. And Minerva remained alone. And bitter.
Her decision was made even before she realised she was
nodding, and Dumbledore was patting her on the shoulder
saying "Good girl" and "Meet me in my office after the
evening meal and we'll begin." He handed her a final
tissue and tapped the box with his wand. It disappeared
with a faint plop. "Tonight, Miss McGonagall,
Transfiguration. It will be interesting to see what you
actually know. Now, I believe you have a robe to mend?"
Giving her an encouraging smile, he collected his books
and swept out, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Silently she picked up her own stuff, absently trying to
straighten the broken quill before deciding it was a lost
cause and throwing it away. Her brow furrowed in
thought. Pulling out her wand, she pointed it at the
matted feather and barked a single word. The quill
shuddered. Expectantly she waited. Finally it gave a
twitch and turned into an apple. Not a good beginning.
Picking it up anyway she tucked it away in the sleeve of
her robe. "Why Dumbledore thinks he can teach me is
beyond me" Minerva muttered fatalistically, striding out
of the empty room. She wasn't head girl material. She
wasn't a proper Gryffindor. She wasn't even a proper
McGonagall. All her siblings had always topped their
years. Most now had high positions in the Ministry of
Magic. James was the closest in age to her and he was
Potions Master at Durmstrang. She wondered, as she often
had, if it was the great age difference between herself
and the other kids that made them such opposites.
Perhaps there was just something in her blood. Nah. Now
I'm sounding like Trelawney, she scolded herself. The
pressure on her to keep up the family standard was too
much. They expected miracles, hell, demanded miracles
from her, and always had. No child should grow up like
that, Minerva vowed then; if she were ever to have any
children she'd make sure there were no unrealistic
expectations for them to live up to, and make sure they
knew they only had to do what they felt they could.
She'd give them a childhood. And maybe, just maybe,
she'd steal her own back.
Whistling, feeling more cheerful now than she had in
months – since she'd suspended Trelawney from the
chandelier in the great hall by her feet – she set off
for the Gryffindor common room. After all, she wasn't
forgetting the idea of revenge, was she? She was just
putting it off for a little while. Until she graduated,
anyway.
As Head Girl.
Trelawney wouldn't know what hit her.
END
A/N: A random fic, not something I want to make a series
out of, this doesn't make me happy at all but I thoguht I
post it just to see what people thought. Now I'll get
back to working on my Remus/Minerva fic.
