AN: This fic is an example of what happens when Cece asks her friend Consuela for oneshot prompts.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Nostopasking
There were times when Minerva McGonagall was thrilled that she had never reproduced with her husband, Angus. Teaching Bellatrix Black was one experience that made her feel this way.
She and Angus had talked about it before the dear soul had died and before she had become deputy headmistress at Hogwarts. But they had agreed that her teaching and his potioneering research would take up to much time, and neither had wished to sacrifice their career, at that time, for offspring.
Then Angus had died testing a potion that turned out to contain prawns (to which he was allergic) and that was that. She still missed him immensely, and sometimes wished that there were a little Angus McGonagall Jr running around Hogwarts.
But, when teaching the eldest Miss Black, she was relieved that this non-existent Angus Jr was not present to be potentially eaten, destroyed or influenced by the hellcat that was Bellatrix Black.
"Miss Black, I hope you realize how inappropriate it is to transfigure Mr. Summers into a puppy."
"Miss Black, I do hope you will learn from this detention that transfiguring Mr. Malfoy's shirt into a bra is not one of the uses of transfiguration condoned by this school."
"Miss Black, jinxing a first year because he 'looked at you funny' is not the type of behavior we expect from our upper level students."
"Miss Black, I hope you understand just how seriously we take open attacks on our students of muggle descent. Your actions will not be tolerated and I am afraid you are suspended for a week."
The only thing that could be said for Bellatrix Black was that she didn't spend much time with her first year cousin, the Gryffindor Sirius. Minerva had hoped that he would not turn out like her, or at least, if he did, that he would be slightly more tolerable.
The worst of all was that Bellatrix never even seemed remotely sorry about what she had done to merit a punishment. She just looked at whichever teacher was telling her off with her 'I am Bellatrix Black. You think you can tell me what to do, you inferior being?' expression.
Minerva nearly jumped for joy the morning she awoke with the prospect of teaching her final lesson to her seventh years before their NEWTs. One more hour to be spent in that bitch's (and she never spoke ill of her students) presence and then she would be free! She hoped to heaven that the class would go smoothly.
Breakfast was pleasant, and she bragged to Filius (who still had two classes of Bellatrix) that she was nearly finished.
The First Years were cute about their exam preparation (although she would never admit it). Lily Evans was terrified of failing (she wouldn't—she was quite a talented young witch). James Potter and Sirius Black did not pay even the slightest attention to the lesson and at the end of the class, Lily's ponytail had been turned puce. It was sad to deduct points from Gryffindor, but it had to be done. She sighed at the prospect of devising yet another detention for the two boys. She hoped their actions didn't become a trend (as Bellatrix's had).
Her Second Years were uneventful in comparison.
She spent lunch in an emergency meeting with Pomona Sprout, the new herbology teacher, about next year's syllabus. The book Pomona had wanted to use was most unfortunately out of print.
It was with great trepidation that Minerva entered her final class of the day.
Most of the students were present. All but one, in fact. All but Bellatrix Black.
Minerva didn't know what to make of it. She taught the class as if Bellatrix were there. She expected the girl to show up halfway through the lesson (like she sometimes did) but there was no sign of her.
She let her twelve other students go and went off to her office.
Sitting on her desk was a note.
Minerva,
Kindly swing by my office this afternoon.
Albus
Wondering what this could be about, although, admittedly, she suspected what it might pertain to, she hurried off to the gryphon that guarded the headmaster's office.
"Caramel Pops," she said and the revolving spiral staircase was revealed.
She knocked on the door of the headmaster's office and was told to enter.
"Ahh, Minerva," said Albus, "thank you for coming so promptly. Do sit down. I am afraid I have some rather bad news…"
"What is it, headmaster?"
"Well, Horace just came to see me. It appears he found this note on one of his student's bed."
Albus slid a piece of rumpled parchment across the desk.
It read
Dear Hogwarts.
I have decided that you are completely useless to me. The Dark Lord does not require NEWT scores to serve him, only that you be of age. Well, I am of age, and then some, so I have decided it is high time that I leave. I would have gotten Os on all my exams anyway, so what is the point of actually sitting them?
Should I ever cross any of your paths again, I shall try to kill you.
Good day,
Bellatrix Black.
Minerva didn't know what to say. In her gut, she most certainly felt horrified and disappointed that the devious Miss Black had joined the Death Eaters. On the other hand, she also felt that it had been inevitable and was therefore totally unsurprising. She glanced up at Albus.
He looked sad, but also rather resigned.
"I don't think there is anything we can do about it," said Minerva slowly and carefully.
"No, I rather think not. I just wanted to be sure that that was the general concensus. I shall bring this note to the next Order meeting, obviously. We know one more Death Eater, now."
"If I were her, I wouldn't have left a note. It is rather sloppy. I don't think You-Know-Who will be pleased."
"Probably not, but then, she never did catch on about things you should and shouldn't do when breaking the rules. It may make our lives easier initially."
"One might hope. If that is all, headmaster, I would like to go and put the finishing touches on my Fourth Year exams."
"Of course, Minerva. By all means, go. I shall see you at dinner."
And Minerva departed.
When she reached her office, she did a little dance of joy. Black was gone.