Minerva McGonagall surveyed her sixth year transfiguration class with the careful and diligent eyes of a watchful cat. The students were attempting to conjure a water goblet from thin air, and so far, all of them were failing miserably. Only Hermione Granger had managed to master conjuration, which came as no surprise. There were two weeks left until the first level of N.E.W.T. exams, and McGonagall was beginning to worry that perhaps, this year, with the tension of war beginning to settle in on the wizarding world, her students wouldn't score as well as they could have. But then, she assured herself, she had that worry every year, and every year, her students' performance always exceeded her expectations.
There was one student, though, whom she feared might not score quite as well as he needed. Professor McGonagall's gaze focused on the downtrodden face of Neville Longbottom, who was presently glaring at his textbook and muttering incantations to himself, producing a thin and continuous wisp of smoke from the end of his wand. She would not care so much if this was a fifth-year class, or even if it was another struggling N.E.W.T. student, but she had a special kind of respect for Longbottom. In his fourth year, she met with him to discuss his floundering grades, and curious, she asked him what type of career he might want to pursue. He, very confidently–in the firmest voice she had ever heard him use–said, "I want to be an Auror." She was surprised at his choice, given that at the time, he was far behind in Transfiguration, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, all of which were necessary N.E.W.T.s for Auror training. He was also struggling in Charms, his only real aptitude seeming to be Herbology, which wasn't even a N.E.W.T. requirement. She brought this to his attention, and it looked as though he was on the verge of collapsing into his shell again, but he pushed forward. "I know I'm not very good at magic–especially the complicated stuff–and I really like Herbology, but…I want to do what my parents did. I want to pick up where they left off, make them proud."
"Well, Mr. Longbottom," McGonagall said, "if you want to be an Auror, you're going to have to improve your grades in all your classes to at least an E by the end of your fifth year, or there's no way you'll even be considered for the training program."
He nodded, looking worried, but determined. "I can do it," he said.
And somehow he had. By the end of his fifth year, his Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts grades skyrocketed, despite the vile intercession of Delores Umbridge. With many nights spent sleepless in the library, and much help from Miss Granger, no doubt, Neville had managed to get his Potions and Transfiguration scores up to an Exceeds Expectations just in the nick of time. Now, though, his potions grade had fallen to an Acceptable (thanks to Professor Slughorn's more lenient hand; Snape would've given him a Dreadful), and his Transfiguration was back down to a Poor. He needed no lower than an Outstanding on his final exam to continue on to next year's Transfiguration N.E. . A feat that would be very difficult to attain if he was struggling with the very basics of conjuration.
McGonagall scanned the class for a suitable tutor. Her mind automatically leapt to Hermione Granger, but she knew Dumbledore had been having private lessons with her, Potter, and Weasley throughout the year that involved magic much more difficult than was taught at Hogwarts. Also, judging by the heated looks she and Weasley kept shooting at each other, she had enough to distract her from her studies.
She briefly considered Dean Thomas, who was quite gifted at Transfiguration, but knew that he and Longbottom were too good of friends, and would probably just end up goofing off if they spent too much time together. Instead of just Longbottom failing, both of them would.
Then her eyes landed on Kathryn Parker. She was a Gryffindor whose Transfiguration scores, in the past, could rival Granger's. Currently, she was rereading her textbook and running her hands through her long, dark hair, which was becoming more tangled by the minute. Her pale cheeks were flushed and she was clearly flustered by her lack of progress. She concentrated very hard on her wand movement, which she had almost perfected. If she coupled it with the correct incantation, she would very well produce the first non-Granger goblet of the day. Kathryn took a deep breath, pointed her wand at the table and said the spell: "Vitrexorior."
McGonagall watched as a strip of glass slithered out of her wand and wrapped itself into a water goblet. Seamus Finnigan, who was seated next to her, gawked, "Blimey, how'd you do that?" Other students glanced in her direction as she picked it up and inspected it for holes. When she was satisfied, she called out, her hand slightly raised, "Professor, I think I've done it."
McGonagall walked over, certain she had, but set her mouth in a terse line and inspected the glass herself. Kathryn held her breath. "Well done, Miss Parker," she said with a wink. "Five points to Gryffindor."
Kathryn exhaled and said, "Thanks, Professor." She was beaming ear to ear.
The bell rang and the class started shuffling out of the room.
Just as Kathryn was sliding her books into her bag, McGonagall said, "Miss Parker, do you have a moment? I'd like to have a word with you."
Kathryn nodded, her eyes alight with her recent victory. "Certainly."
"Mr. Longbottom, I'd like a word with you, too," McGonagall called over the ruckus.
Neville looked over at her, dread flooding his expression. Whenever she wanted a word with him, it was never a good one.
When the rest of the class was gone, Kathryn and Neville both stood in front of McGonagall's desk in uneasy silence. She sat down behind it and adjusted her spectacles. "Now," she began, "I'm assuming you two know each other?"
They both nodded. They'd been in the same house for six years, so they were on friendly terms, though they rarely spoke to one another.
"Mr. Longbottom, since you are in need of dire assistance with your upcoming exam, I am taking the liberty of asking Miss Parker to tutor you until the end of term. Miss Parker, would you be willing to help Mr. Longbottom for an hour every night for the next two weeks so he can improve his grade?"
Kathryn glanced from McGonagall to Neville, who was staring at the floor. "Sure, I'd be happy to help. Only if Neville wants me to, of course."
Neville looked up at Kathryn, perplexed. No one had ever asked him if he wanted help with schoolwork before. They just assumed he needed it.
"Well, Mr. Longbottom?" McGonagall said, impatient with his long pause. "Would you like Miss Parker to tutor you?"
Neville started. "Um, er, yes? I mean, yes. Yes, I would like that very much. Thank you." Kathryn smiled at him, her nose crinkling. He smiled back, nervously.
"Very well," said McGonagall, "You can work out whatever schedule suits the both of you best, as long as you meet for an hour every day. Also, Every night you'll have access to my classroom from seven to nine for practice space. Use it as you will."
"Sounds good," said Kathryn and Neville in unison.
"Excellent," said McGonagall. "I'll see you both in class Thursday."
They both turned and began chatting about their schedules for the next two weeks. As McGonagall watched them walk out of her classroom together, she did not know that her decision to make them work together would change both of their lives forever.