At her first time on the Hogwarts express, she sat alone. She was smart, ingenious actually, but amiability was never her forte. She had no friends, save for her many siblings. Being noticed embarrassed her. Minerva stared wistfully out the window of the cabin, pressing her hand to the glass. It was cool to the touch and light rain drop or two slid down the glass. Then three, then four. She smiled as the rain started to fall harder. The pattering soothed her, and before long, she had fallen asleep as the untiring train rushed on towards its destination.
"Wait, they pull themselves?" Minerva heard another first year ask.
"Yeah," a third year replied, "every year. They always have." Minerva's eyes widened. Cool. When she boarded the carriage, she avoided everyone's eyes. A boy scooted away from her. Which was just as well, the told herself. Better not form attachments. She'd be out of there in seven years anyways.
Minerva almost lost consciousness from holding her breath when she was called up to get sorted. She sat on the rickety three-legged stool while the deputy headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, gently placed the hat on her small, raven-haired head. The hat mumbled to itself for a long time before it reached its conclusion. "Well, I see you are exceedingly smart, no I don't think I've ever seen a first year with this knowledge." The hat said, "Maybe Ravenclaw? No, no," it muttered, "you are also brave. Brave like a Gryffindor. Brave without knowing it. But what is this? Hatred? The young hatred of a Slytheyn? Hardworking, but surely not Hufflepuff. No, I dare say you don't fit into any of the houses. Hm, well this is new…no house at all!" the hat shouted. The entire great hall was silent. Minerva could tell that this had never, ever happened before. It was then that she fainted.
When she regained consciousness, she was lying on a cot in a large room (she assumed that due to her current condition, it was the hospital wing) with curious faces peering at her. Headmaster Dippet was at the foot of the bed, surveying his queer new student. A few other teachers that she couldn't name also stared at her intently, but none of their gazes were as penetrating as Professor Dumbledore's. She knew he was not a man to be reckoned with. His gaze swept over her, surveying her, and was that a hint of sympathy in his eyes? "Miss, McGonagall," the headmaster started, "it seems that out sorting hat has resulted in a rather odd conclusion." No, duh. Minerva tried not to make a face as the headmaster continued. "During your seven years at Hogwarts, or by the description of the sorting hat, probably less," Did the sorting hat say those things out loud? Minerva turned scarlet. Professor Dumbledore touched Professor Dippet lightly on the shoulder and the headmaster continued on the different note. "You will not belong to one of the houses. If you intend to join a team of any sort, you can try out for whichever you would like to be on, mind you, only one." Minerva nodded weakly. "So now we will leave you to your things." And the teachers left the room.
"Alright, dearie, you're free to go. Mind you, if you have any more dizzy spells, come right back," the nurse said. Minerva nodded weakly and stood. Thanking the nurse, she left the room as well.
Minerva was given a small room just off of the fourth floor main corridor. As soon as she reached it, she began to unpack her clothes. She made a makeshift dresser and set about organizing her few belongings. Inside went her clothes and on top, her other possessions. Some school books, a hairbrush, but most importantly two pictures. One of when she was a little over one year old, holding her parents' hands and smiling into the camera. She had been brought up as a witch. Her parents were both magical and they had passed it on to her. The second one was of her whole family at the time. Her mother Demeter, herself, Apollo, Diana, and a tiny baby in her mother's arms which was her youngest brother, Mercury were all waving and smiling. Vesta, her youngest sibling, had not been born yet. Minerva smiled as she traced the outline of her mother's stomach. There she was.
She sighed and changed into her pajamas. She unbraided her ebony hair and let the shiny locks fall past her shoulders. Minerva climbed into her bed, grateful to end her stressful day, yet very (very) reluctant to start another.