A/N - Written for round two of QL - writing about someone's passion for Transfiguration - with the optional prompts:

[dialogue] "This was the most fun I've ever had."

[quote] "The starting point of all achievement is desire." - Napoleon Hill

[dialogue] "It happened again, what do I do?"

For some inexplicable reason, I have chosen to write about two characters who I find very difficult to characterise correctly, so I feel the need to apologise for that. I'll be honest, I don't really know what to make of this fic.

The title is a quote from Survivor by Chuck Palahniuk.

"The starting point of all achievement is desire."

Napoleon Hill

.oOo.

"Miss McGonagall, that does not look like the correct incantation." The voice of her professor startled Minerva, causing her to nearly drop the rat she was supposed to be transforming. "Were you listening at all?"

"Of course, Sir," she answered immediately. She glanced quickly at the board, but the instructions for that day's class had already been erased. At his raised eyebrows, she sighed, shrugged, and changed her answer. "It's just— I don't really think Transfiguration is my calling."

"Well, that is a shame, because you're certainly good at it. When you choose to apply yourself, that is," he said. Minerva hoped he would move on then as they were nearing the end of the class, but her luck had never been that good. "Stay behind after class. And detention with me every day for the rest of the week."

She was about to protest the harsh punishment, but a look from her professor stayed her tongue. She gave a sharp nod, glaring at the rat, and didn't move for the remainder of the class.

…oOo…

Day One

"Professor, is it really necessary for me to be here every day?" she asked almost as soon as she'd entered his office.

"It is not your place to decide on the duration of your detention," he said, before gesturing to the empty chair opposite him. "Please sit, and we will begin."

"Begin what?" she asked, dropping her bag next to the chair and sitting heavily. "I thought I'd be writing lines?" He raised an eyebrow. "But I suppose it's not my place to decide," she added, repeating his earlier words with a smirk.

"You would be correct," he said, picking up an open textbook and placing it in front of her. "Today we will be covering everything you missed in class."

"For two hours?" she asked, dismayed, glaring at the rat he handed her.

"Of course not," he said, turning his attention to his own book. "I expect you to be done within half an hour, and then we shall move on to the next chapter."

.oOo.

"That took longer than expected," he said, when, just over twenty minutes later, there was a perfectly formed goblet sitting in front of her. "Onto the next chapter, then?"

As she turned over to the next page, she wondered where this man had learnt to teach, because this certainly wasn't something she would classify as a proper method.

…oOo…

Day Two

She'd been struggling for nearly half an hour — and she knew he knew — before she finally gave up, throwing her want to the desk and pushing her chair back loudly.

"It happened again, what do I do?"

"First of all, I would recommend not throwing your wand about so carelessly," he said, regarding her over the frames of his glasses. "That's a very dangerous thing to do." She glared, picking up her wand and setting it with exaggerated care into the centrefold of her textbook. "Thank you, Minerva, I do appreciate the effort," he said, standing up and rounding the desk. "Now, what is the problem?"

.oOo.

The solution had been much simpler than she thought, and she was moving on to the next chapter in no time, the minutes ticking by faster than she realised.

"Well, I believe that's enough for tonight," he said, closing his own book and smiling at her from across the desk. She tried not to let her surprise show on her face but, judging from the added twinkle to her professor's eyes, she was largely unsuccessful.

…oOo…

Day Three

"Ah, Minerva," he greeted her as soon as she entered. "You're early tonight." She frowned, checking her watch.

"No, I'm not," she said, regretting the words as soon as that smile appeared on his face.

"Ah, so you are capable of checking the time." She took her seat wordlessly, opening her textbook to the chapter she'd left off at.

"Sorry, professor," she eventually muttered, not raising her eyes.

"Quite alright," he said; the smile had yet to leave.

.oOo.

"I think that will be all for tonight," he said, half an hour before they were due to finish.

"But—" she began, before cutting herself off.

"Did you wish to stay longer?" he asked, seeming more amused than genuinely curious.

"No, sir."

"Are you sure? You seemed to be enjoying yourself."

"Oh, yes. This was the most fun I've ever had," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm that she would never admit felt a little forced.

"Well, then I shall see you tomorrow."

…oOo…

Day Four

"I thought perhaps we would try something a little different tonight," he said by way of greeting.

"Oh?" she asked, stopping with the bag half way to the floor. "Where are we going?" she asked as she followed him back to the door, wondering why he couldn't have just sent her an owl if he had wanted a different meeting spot.

"Somewhere a little more fireproof."

.oOo.

"Well," he said, looking around at the mess she had caused. "It's a good thing we have magic." With a wordless flick of his wand, he cleared the entire room, reverting it back to its original state.

"Sorry, Professor," she muttered, staring at the floor guiltily.

"There's no need for apologies, Miss McGonagall. No harm done."

"But Professor! I set fire to your robes!" She looked up then, the distress clear on her features.

"Ah, yes," he said. "That little incident." She stared at him incredulously, not for the first time wondering how this man had ever acquired a teaching position. "Well, I appear to be mostly intact." He didn't give her a chance to respond before continuing. "I trust you will be able to make your way to your dormitory from here. We'll be back in my office tomorrow, I think."

…oOo…

Day Five

"But this is the spell we did yesterday!" She was no longer worried about his teaching capabilities; the man was clearly insane. "Why would you want to try that again?"

"Do you feel you mastered it last night?" he asked calmly.

"Of course not!"

"Then I believe you have answered your own question, Miss McGonagall," he said, turning his back on her and walking over to his desk. "Today, we will be working on your accuracy."

.oOo.

"That went better than expected," he said cheerfully, putting out the small fire with practiced ease and repairing his hat. She stared at the mess that had once been his desk.

"What did you expect would happen?"

"I thought there might be a few more injuries, but this was a pleasant surprise," he said, inspecting the ends of his singed beard. "You are quite the talented witch, Minerva."

"Thank you, Professor," she said, hesitating by the door.

"Was there something else I could help you with?" he asked. "I believe this was the last of our sessions."

"Yes, about that, sir. I was wondering… I was wondering if it would be at all possible to… continue?" she stuttered, keeping her eyes firmly glued to her feet.

"Of course, Minerva. It would be a pleasure," he said and, when she glanced up, there was a warm smile adorning his features. "Though perhaps we could reduce these sessions to once a week?"

"Yes, thank you, Professor Dumbledore," she said.

…oOo…

"Potter, that does not look like the correct incantation." The boy jumped, nearly dropping his wand, and glanced up at her guiltily. She could see Black and Pettigrew snickering out of the corner of her eye, but she would get to them later.

"Sorry, Professor," he said, eyes flicking from her to his friends.

"Detention. For the rest of the week," she said. "I expect to see you in my office at eight o'clock, sharp." She turned her attention to his friends. "As for you two—"