Minerva McGonagall walked quickly into her office, closing the door tightly behind her. It had been an awfully long day, and there was nothing that she wanted more than rest.
She sat down at a small table with a mirror hanging on the wall across from it. She studied her reflection in the mirror with a deep sigh. No wonder the students all thought her to be as nails!
She pulled out the hairpins that held her hair into its severe bun and shook her long, wavy black hair out until it hung loosely down her back. Removing her glasses, she looked at her reflection intensely.
The incredible beauty that she had once possessed had not entirely disappeared, but the years had come down hard on her. Wincing at the memory, she thought back to her younger years, and how uncomfortable her beauty had made her feel.
She had taken great pains to cover it up with a mask of sternness, once she became a professor, and she had succeeded excellently in hiding her unearthly beauty. Minerva walked over to her desk and picked up an old photo, smiling. The picture was of her and her old friends at Hogwarts, thirty-odd years ago.
She focused on the laughing, raven-haired girl in the center, allowing herself to lapse into memory.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It had all started when she was eleven. She had always been a pretty child, with her shining dark hair, sweet-lipped smile, and twinkling brown eyes, but she truly blossomed a few months after her eleventh birthday.
Even at that young age, men's eyes followed her as she passed by on the street. This made her parents extremely nervous, her father in particular. He had warned little Minerva many times, "Now look here, lass, when you walk the streets, keep yer head turned down, and don' make eye contact with no one ya don' know."
When questioned why by a curious Minerva, John McGonagall responded, "Minnie me girl, there are some dangerous people about nowadays, an' I don' want you gettin' mixed up with them, ya hear?"
The happiest day in her life was the day when she received her letter from Hogwarts. Minerva counted down the days until she boarded the Hogwarts Express. Finally, that joyous day came, and Minerva boarded the train with sky-high spirits, waving to her beaming father and teary-eyed mother.
She was greeted with dumbstruck looks from the other children, particularly the boys. Thinking that something was wrong with her appearance, Minerva whipped out her small pocket mirror. She looked just the same as always: black hair pulled back in a headband, her face and clothes clean and neat. She couldn't think of why the others were looking at her so.
Sitting alone on the Express, Minerva was surprised when the door to her compartment was flung open, and a cheery, redhaired girl ran in. "Mind if I join you?" asked the girl eagerly.
"No, not at all," responded Minerva. The girl smiled, her hand outstretched.
"I'm Eileen McEntire, what's your name?" she asked.
"Minerva McGonagall," responded Minerva.
Eileen screwed up her face. "That's a dreadful long name..mind if I call you Minnie?"
"No.." responded Minerva, quite taken aback by Eileen's free-spirited way of speaking.
By the end of the ride, Minerva and Eileen had become great friends. Eileen, who hadn't stopped talking throughout the whole ride, gasped with delight and awe when she saw Hogwarts Castle.
"Ooh, there it is...what house d'ya think you'll be sorted into?" asked Eileen.
"I dunno really, Ravenclaw I guess..or Gryffindor, maybe."
"I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds real great, and their Quidditch team is said to be real good, too," Eileen said cheerily.
Before they knew it, the first years were seated in the Great Hall, awaiting the Sorting Hat. When the Professor doing the Sorting called, "McEntire, Eileen!", Eileen bounced up from out of her chair and ran to the stool, jamming the hat on her red head. When the Hat shouted "GRYFFINDOR!", Eileen pumped her fist in the air and ran to join the cheering Gryffindor table, waving to Minnie as she passed.
Right after Eileen arrived at the Gryffindor table, the Professor shouted, "McGonagall, Minerva!" Minerva got up from her seat, trying to ignore the looks that every boy in the Hall gave her, and placed the hat on her head.
"Cleverness..oh, yes..talent, I daresay, bravery..no question of that..I'd have to say GRYFFINDOR!!"
Minerva walked over to the Gryffindor table, feeling quite pleased, especially when Eileen thumped her on the back and said, "This is splendid, Minnie, now we can really become best friends!"
Years passed. Minerva quickly became one of the most popular girls in school, with the girls at least. She liked to keep herself somewhat separate from the boys. The eyes of most of the boys in school, and even several of the male professors, followed her hungrily. She knew what they were thinking...she wasn't completely clueless.
The way that they looked at her always made her feel naked, almost dirty even. Of course, there were some fellows who were decent sorts..she had a few friends who were boys..but for the most part she liked to keep her distance from the male population of Hogwarts.
One thing that she surely excelled at was academics. Minerva was the top student in her year, in every class, but her favorite was Transfiguration. The teacher, Professor Dumbledore, was a kind, clever man who taught the class with incredible skill, and Minerva looked up to him as a role model.
When she reached her fifth year, she was made a prefect. Finally, in her seventh year, she became the Head Girl.
All of her friends were always telling her how perfect she was: how smart, how kind, how pretty..especially how pretty. Despite her academic skills, she was always singled out for her looks, a fact that infuriated her.
What was the use of being clever if no one cared to see past your outward appearance? Secretly, she yearned to be plain, or even ugly, to spare herself the self-conscious feeling that she so often got.
Minerva graduated from Hogwarts at the top of the class, and she was named valedictorian. Eileen hugged her and talked a lot about how they had to keep in touch always, and how she would never find a friend that she liked as much as Minnie.
Minnie quite agreed, for Eileen had been a great friend to her always. Minerva may never have had a boyfriend (not that she couldn't have, but she never wanted one), but Eileen and the girls had always provided enough love to tide her over, so she didn't need the affections of any stupid boy.
Five years later, Minerva heard that her favorite professor, Dumbledore, had been made headmaster. She decided that she would go to Hogwarts and offer herself as an intern or something, so that she could see how teaching was done, for she very much wanted to try it for herself one day.
When she arrived in Dumbledore's office, he smiled brightly. "Well, well, Minerva McGonagall, I haven't seen you in a long time, child," he said, gesturing for her to sit down.
"Actually, Professor," began Minerva, "I was wondering if..if there was any job around here that I could take, anything at all, sir." She looked at him eagerly, praying that he would say yes.
"Well, as a matter of fact, Miss McGonagall, there is an opening." Professor Dumbledore looked at her, his eyes twinkling cheerily.
"Really? What is it?"
"We are in desperate need of a Transfiguration professor...do you think you'd be up to the job?"
"But Sir.." spluttered Minerva, "aren't I too young for such a prestigious position?"
"I don't see what age has to do with skill, Miss McGonagall," Dumbledore replied. "If I recall correctly, you were an impeccable student in Transfiguration, am I right?"
"Well..I suppose.."
"So, would you like the job?"
"Yes!" responded Minerva, smiling broadly. This was a dream come true for her, and she could hardly believe that it was really happening.
"Very well then, Miss--I mean, Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore said, grinning, "You can start next term."
"Oh, thank you, Professor!" she responded, impulsively throwing her arms around her former teacher.
"There there now," Dumbledore said cheerfully, "you're my colleague now, you don't need to be so formal, Professor. You may simply call me Albus."
"All--all right, Albus," she said awkwardly.
"That's much better, Minerva," Dumbledore said. "I think you'll make an excellent professor."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Minerva closed her eyes, remembering what her first action as Professor was. She had taken to wearing her glasses more, and decided to wear her hair in a bun, thinking it made her look more professional.
Then an idea had dawned on her: what if her students fell in love with her? She remembered cursing her appearance more than ever at that time, and then deciding what to do. She had drawn herself up, narrowed her eyes, and pinched her face into a severe position. She had looked with satisfaction
at her reflection, for there was nothing particularly special about her appearance now. She had adopted that fashion for twenty-five years, and now, at age forty-seven, she was despairing over it, wishing that she could somehow revive the laughing, free-spirited little beauty that she had once been.
She opened her desk drawer and took out a headband, last worn at age twenty-six. She slid it onto her head and dropped the severity in her expression. Then she smiled. The change was dramatic: this Minerva looked twenty years younger than the other one. Laughing, Minerva returned the headband to
her drawer. She could never dream of going out into the Great Hall looking like that....or could she?
She sat down at a small table with a mirror hanging on the wall across from it. She studied her reflection in the mirror with a deep sigh. No wonder the students all thought her to be as nails!
She pulled out the hairpins that held her hair into its severe bun and shook her long, wavy black hair out until it hung loosely down her back. Removing her glasses, she looked at her reflection intensely.
The incredible beauty that she had once possessed had not entirely disappeared, but the years had come down hard on her. Wincing at the memory, she thought back to her younger years, and how uncomfortable her beauty had made her feel.
She had taken great pains to cover it up with a mask of sternness, once she became a professor, and she had succeeded excellently in hiding her unearthly beauty. Minerva walked over to her desk and picked up an old photo, smiling. The picture was of her and her old friends at Hogwarts, thirty-odd years ago.
She focused on the laughing, raven-haired girl in the center, allowing herself to lapse into memory.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It had all started when she was eleven. She had always been a pretty child, with her shining dark hair, sweet-lipped smile, and twinkling brown eyes, but she truly blossomed a few months after her eleventh birthday.
Even at that young age, men's eyes followed her as she passed by on the street. This made her parents extremely nervous, her father in particular. He had warned little Minerva many times, "Now look here, lass, when you walk the streets, keep yer head turned down, and don' make eye contact with no one ya don' know."
When questioned why by a curious Minerva, John McGonagall responded, "Minnie me girl, there are some dangerous people about nowadays, an' I don' want you gettin' mixed up with them, ya hear?"
The happiest day in her life was the day when she received her letter from Hogwarts. Minerva counted down the days until she boarded the Hogwarts Express. Finally, that joyous day came, and Minerva boarded the train with sky-high spirits, waving to her beaming father and teary-eyed mother.
She was greeted with dumbstruck looks from the other children, particularly the boys. Thinking that something was wrong with her appearance, Minerva whipped out her small pocket mirror. She looked just the same as always: black hair pulled back in a headband, her face and clothes clean and neat. She couldn't think of why the others were looking at her so.
Sitting alone on the Express, Minerva was surprised when the door to her compartment was flung open, and a cheery, redhaired girl ran in. "Mind if I join you?" asked the girl eagerly.
"No, not at all," responded Minerva. The girl smiled, her hand outstretched.
"I'm Eileen McEntire, what's your name?" she asked.
"Minerva McGonagall," responded Minerva.
Eileen screwed up her face. "That's a dreadful long name..mind if I call you Minnie?"
"No.." responded Minerva, quite taken aback by Eileen's free-spirited way of speaking.
By the end of the ride, Minerva and Eileen had become great friends. Eileen, who hadn't stopped talking throughout the whole ride, gasped with delight and awe when she saw Hogwarts Castle.
"Ooh, there it is...what house d'ya think you'll be sorted into?" asked Eileen.
"I dunno really, Ravenclaw I guess..or Gryffindor, maybe."
"I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds real great, and their Quidditch team is said to be real good, too," Eileen said cheerily.
Before they knew it, the first years were seated in the Great Hall, awaiting the Sorting Hat. When the Professor doing the Sorting called, "McEntire, Eileen!", Eileen bounced up from out of her chair and ran to the stool, jamming the hat on her red head. When the Hat shouted "GRYFFINDOR!", Eileen pumped her fist in the air and ran to join the cheering Gryffindor table, waving to Minnie as she passed.
Right after Eileen arrived at the Gryffindor table, the Professor shouted, "McGonagall, Minerva!" Minerva got up from her seat, trying to ignore the looks that every boy in the Hall gave her, and placed the hat on her head.
"Cleverness..oh, yes..talent, I daresay, bravery..no question of that..I'd have to say GRYFFINDOR!!"
Minerva walked over to the Gryffindor table, feeling quite pleased, especially when Eileen thumped her on the back and said, "This is splendid, Minnie, now we can really become best friends!"
Years passed. Minerva quickly became one of the most popular girls in school, with the girls at least. She liked to keep herself somewhat separate from the boys. The eyes of most of the boys in school, and even several of the male professors, followed her hungrily. She knew what they were thinking...she wasn't completely clueless.
The way that they looked at her always made her feel naked, almost dirty even. Of course, there were some fellows who were decent sorts..she had a few friends who were boys..but for the most part she liked to keep her distance from the male population of Hogwarts.
One thing that she surely excelled at was academics. Minerva was the top student in her year, in every class, but her favorite was Transfiguration. The teacher, Professor Dumbledore, was a kind, clever man who taught the class with incredible skill, and Minerva looked up to him as a role model.
When she reached her fifth year, she was made a prefect. Finally, in her seventh year, she became the Head Girl.
All of her friends were always telling her how perfect she was: how smart, how kind, how pretty..especially how pretty. Despite her academic skills, she was always singled out for her looks, a fact that infuriated her.
What was the use of being clever if no one cared to see past your outward appearance? Secretly, she yearned to be plain, or even ugly, to spare herself the self-conscious feeling that she so often got.
Minerva graduated from Hogwarts at the top of the class, and she was named valedictorian. Eileen hugged her and talked a lot about how they had to keep in touch always, and how she would never find a friend that she liked as much as Minnie.
Minnie quite agreed, for Eileen had been a great friend to her always. Minerva may never have had a boyfriend (not that she couldn't have, but she never wanted one), but Eileen and the girls had always provided enough love to tide her over, so she didn't need the affections of any stupid boy.
Five years later, Minerva heard that her favorite professor, Dumbledore, had been made headmaster. She decided that she would go to Hogwarts and offer herself as an intern or something, so that she could see how teaching was done, for she very much wanted to try it for herself one day.
When she arrived in Dumbledore's office, he smiled brightly. "Well, well, Minerva McGonagall, I haven't seen you in a long time, child," he said, gesturing for her to sit down.
"Actually, Professor," began Minerva, "I was wondering if..if there was any job around here that I could take, anything at all, sir." She looked at him eagerly, praying that he would say yes.
"Well, as a matter of fact, Miss McGonagall, there is an opening." Professor Dumbledore looked at her, his eyes twinkling cheerily.
"Really? What is it?"
"We are in desperate need of a Transfiguration professor...do you think you'd be up to the job?"
"But Sir.." spluttered Minerva, "aren't I too young for such a prestigious position?"
"I don't see what age has to do with skill, Miss McGonagall," Dumbledore replied. "If I recall correctly, you were an impeccable student in Transfiguration, am I right?"
"Well..I suppose.."
"So, would you like the job?"
"Yes!" responded Minerva, smiling broadly. This was a dream come true for her, and she could hardly believe that it was really happening.
"Very well then, Miss--I mean, Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore said, grinning, "You can start next term."
"Oh, thank you, Professor!" she responded, impulsively throwing her arms around her former teacher.
"There there now," Dumbledore said cheerfully, "you're my colleague now, you don't need to be so formal, Professor. You may simply call me Albus."
"All--all right, Albus," she said awkwardly.
"That's much better, Minerva," Dumbledore said. "I think you'll make an excellent professor."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Minerva closed her eyes, remembering what her first action as Professor was. She had taken to wearing her glasses more, and decided to wear her hair in a bun, thinking it made her look more professional.
Then an idea had dawned on her: what if her students fell in love with her? She remembered cursing her appearance more than ever at that time, and then deciding what to do. She had drawn herself up, narrowed her eyes, and pinched her face into a severe position. She had looked with satisfaction
at her reflection, for there was nothing particularly special about her appearance now. She had adopted that fashion for twenty-five years, and now, at age forty-seven, she was despairing over it, wishing that she could somehow revive the laughing, free-spirited little beauty that she had once been.
She opened her desk drawer and took out a headband, last worn at age twenty-six. She slid it onto her head and dropped the severity in her expression. Then she smiled. The change was dramatic: this Minerva looked twenty years younger than the other one. Laughing, Minerva returned the headband to
her drawer. She could never dream of going out into the Great Hall looking like that....or could she?
