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The Houses Competition, Gryffindor, Year 1, Short, Prompt: [First Line] If you had asked me yesterday, I wouldn't have believed it could happen, but a lot can change in a day

Hogwarts Challenges and Assignments: Assignment 8, Term 8, Gryffindor, Notable Witches and Wizards: Bertie Bott, "write about an event with an unexpected outcome"

Word Count: 1519

"If you had asked me yesterday, I wouldn't have believed it could happen, but a lot can change in a day. I could have sworn Minerva was losing her nut!"

Frank scooted closer to Augusta, only partially to hear better. "You mean to tell me Minerva McGonagall got detention?"

"Oh, yes," whispered Augusta, delight shining on her face. "And not just that… she actually cancelled..."

Minerva McGonagall did not get detention.

She was a Prefect and the Quidditch Captain. She wasn't rowdy or silly. She simply didn't abide by such nonsense. She had a reputation to uphold, and three other houses to crush on the Quidditch Pitch.

So when Ravenclaw Chaser Luke Dawlish mocked her after a ten point loss, she turned her nose up and ignored him. When Slytherin Marilyn McKinnon beat her in Charms, she studied harder, determined to top every OWL. When Hufflepuff John Macmillian mocked her little brother, she only hexed him when she was sure no teachers were looking.

But one winter day, a few months before OWLs, she was feeling pushed to her breaking point. To start, she'd been unable to pull her hairbrush through the tangled mat on her head that morning. Letting her hair down was not something she did. Her housemates, unfortunately, were thrilled.

"You look gorgeous, Minerva!" Minerva had to pretend she wasn't flattered.

"Ooh, Minerva, will you let me braid it?" She was just trying to study, for Merlin's sake!

"Minerva, won't it get in the way during practice?" It would. But try as she might, no amount of pins, brushing, ties, or anything could keep it up.

"Oohh, Minerva! Wait till I send a picture to Mum." That was from her brother. She gave him the famous Minerva McGonagall Detention Glare of Doom. Unfortunately, he was the one person it didn't work on.

Quickly, everything went from bad to worse.

At breakfast, Augusta Rosier spilled pumpkin juice in the bacon. Then, Minerva dropped her toast and it landed butter side down, right inside her bookbag. She managed some decent cleaning charms, but her favorite quill was greasy through lessons.

During Potions, she misread Slughorn's seventh line of instructions, accidentally burning herself and Augusta, who was her benchmate. As she handed her a burn-removing poultice, Slughorn looked worriedly at his favorite student.

And then her hair fell into the cauldron, singeing it.

By the time she left the Hospital Wing, lunch was almost over. And Augusta had finished all the steak and kidney pie. All that was left was a pile of soggy sandwiches.

Miraculously, Defense passed without incident. But during Herbology, her Snaking Snakeweed had twisted itself around her hair and even Augustahadlaughed at her. Desperate to get it out, she had uprooted the plant, accidentally sending it flying across the classroom straight into Luke Dawlish's face. As Professor Tansyroot healed Luke's bleeding nose, he set Minerva lines: "I am a witch, not a tormentor of plants and people".

But the tipping point came during dinner. Minerva sat down at the Gryffindor table, pleased that Augusta was sitting far enough away to not wreck her meal, and served herself an enormous helping of chicken. But as she started chewing, the aforementioned girlappeared behind her, looking nervous.

"Augusta?" They were, after all, friends. Even if Augusta had laughed at her in Herbology and eaten all the steak-and-kidney pie. "Is everything okay?"

Augusta shuffled nervously. "Oh. Yeah. Great. Actually, Minerva, I'll go sit down now."

Minerva's eyes narrowed. "You're only saying that because you're scared of me." It wasn't in her nature to be mean, but it wasn't in her nature to be patient either, and she'd had a long day. "Aren't you? What happened?" Just so long as this doesn't somehow mean I can't eat my chicken in peace…

"I—" Augusta's face went blank, overcome with fierce determination. "I can't make practice tonight."

"But… Augusta, the match is in two weeks!"

"I know! And I'm really sorry; I really am. But I promised Frank I'd go to the—"

Minerva stood up. She towered over Augusta, her eyes sparking like lightning bolts. "You promised FRANK?! How dare you! Skipping Quidditch to be with your boyfriend. I am absolutely FURIOUS!" Unable to restrain herself, she slammed the table on the last word, causing pumpkin juice to splash onto both girls. Augusta's eyes welled with tears, and Minerva immediately regretted it. "Look, I shouldn't yell. I'm really sorry. But we really need—"

"Why, Minerva?"

Just when things couldn't look worse, their Head of House had appeared. (His long orange hair was standing still). "I'm surprised at you!" Professor Dumbledore's tone wasn't harsh; if anything, he seemed almost amused, which only infuriated Minerva further. "Shouting like this in the Great Hall..."

He surveyed her over his glasses. "Alas. I suppose we ought to discuss this in my office."

Hating the world, Minerva followed Albus away. Her uneaten chicken lay on her plate, taunting her.

"Now, Minerva." Once in his office, Professor Dumbledore, pointed her to the nearest of two armchairs. He sat down on the other, summoning over a tea kettle onto the table between them. With a flick, he had water boiling. "Do you take cream and sugar? Lemon?"

Minerva's stomach rumbled. Was this how detention normally went?

"Forgive me." He snapped his fingers, and her dinner appeared. "Do eat."

She did, confused but starving.

"Now." He conjured two glasses, then made a show of humming as he poured them tea. "Would you like a lemon drop?"

Minerva couldn't help it. She scowled. When was the actual detention going to start? She had a practice to run.

"Now, Minerva." Finally her mentor's tone was slightly reproving. For some reason, Minerva found that comforting. At least now she had some clue what was going on. "I really am surprised. What is it that's bothering you today?"

Spilling her heart to Albus Dumbledore wasn't exactly how Minerva had hoped to start her evening. And scrubbing cauldrons or whatever he had in mind was going to be even harder after exposing herself.

But, guilt at her behavior that day was clawing at her, so she opened her mouth to answer.

Sorry, sir. My hair just was being bloody difficult this morning. And then Augusta laughed at me and tried to ditch practice.

Even in her head, it sounded stupid. She snapped her jaw shut.

"You aren't drinking your tea, Minerva. Would you prefer pumpkin juice? Perhaps a biscuit as well?" A tin of biscuits appeared on the table, faint brown with orange specks that looked like pieces of candied ginger.

Realizing she was going to miss that evening's pudding, Minerva took one. It was delicious—soft but not soggy, the ginger flavorful but not too sharp. "Thank you, sir."

This seemed to delight Albus. "Perhaps you'll have some tea too, Minerva?"

Not sure what else to do, Minerva lifted her teacup to her lips. The steam smelled of lavender and orange peel, unlike any other she'd ever tasted. As her first sip trickled down her throat, she felt herself sinking further into her armchair. Almost involuntarily, she downed the entire cup.

Wordlessly, Albus poured her more. "I must say, you seem rather tired. Perhaps a short nap would be in order?"

And that really did sound good.

Minerva closed her eyes, her anger and frustration from barely ten minutes prior feeling like another lifetime, and then she was dreaming, dreaming, dreaming…

She couldn't have slept for more than half an hour. But when she awoke, her world had cleared. A headache she hadn't even realized she'd had was gone, and her lips tasted like ginger and citrus.

"Ah, Minerva!" Quill in hand, Albus was sitting behind an elegant mahogany desk. "Some more tea? Though I suppose you may want to get to practice." With a swish of his flowing scarlet robes, he indicated a small golden timepiece hanging from the wall. And indeed, her scheduled Quidditch practice was in fifteen minutes.

Minerva stood to leave, her mind still fuzzy with vague feelings of gratitude. "Sir? What was in that tea?"

Professor Dumbledore raised one eyebrow. "It's my finest white, blended with lavender and orange rind. Exquisite, is it not?"

"I… thank you, sir."

Albus hummed. Minerva heard a low rumble from the kettle; clearly he was boiling more water. "You are, of course, more than welcome to stay. Newt Scamander has sent me this lovely rooibos from Swaziland."

As her fingers closed around the knob, the aroma of the rooibos hit her, rich and full-bodied. Minerva turned around. Albus was standing in front of his desk, smiling slightly. "I would like that, Professor. I think I'll cancel Quidditch for the night. We've practiced every day this month."

And her mentor beamed. "I'll have a note sent. I daresay your team will be surprised. Why, just yesterday I recall Professor Tansywort worrying you were overworking the team."

He was right. Her team would be surprised. Well, Minerva supposed, a lot can change in a day. Or with an half-an-hour nap.

And so, pouring herself another piping hot glass, Minerva settled in for detention.