Alright, here goes! This is my very first fanfiction, I have never written anything like this before.
A few notes: Rating for later chapters. I plan this story to be somewhere between 5 and 10 chapters, though that might change, based on your reviews. This idea came to me on a concert with the Band Perry. Yup.
Please be nice to me, I don't have a beta, and English is not my first language.
My Minerva McGonagall is a bit younger than the original. Other than that I will try to follow JKRs timeline. I imagine her to be in her late 30's in this first chapter.
Minerva McGonagall flicked her wand one last time and took two steps back to admire her work. She then muttered a complicated spell, waving her wand in a complicated pattern. A nice feeling of heat lingered in the surrounding air for a few seconds, and then the dark chamber settled in its cold and unwelcome form once more.
She smiled slightly, and nodded approvingly towards the man in the doorframe. He smiled back, blue eyes twinkling in the dark. He then took one step forward, up on the slightly raised platform, and was instantly knocked backwards, hat and robes flying, by a white knight.
Minerva laughed and moved towards the disgruntled figure as he rose and stared at her, feigning anger before he too laughed. "My, oh my, we have outdone ourselves, huh?" Albus Dumbledore reached out his hand and took from her the hat she had picked up after its unceremonial departure from his head a minute earlier. "Well, thank you, Headmaster" the transfiguration Professor answered with a slight blush, trying and failing to hide her pride over her masterpiece.
Dumbledore nodded and smiled, then turned back to the door he had just walked out of. "Come, Miss McGonagall, I want to show you my own little piece of art!" The chessmen all turned to watch them as they strode together into the next chamber, door closing behind them, leaving the giant chessboard in total darkness.
The next two chambers were still empty, but the third was large and lit with candles, and in the middle of the room stood a magnificent mirror. Dumbledore beamed and nodded towards the mirror, giving the transfiguration mistress a wink. She took this as a sign she was allowed to take a closer look, but moved warily as she felt revenge for the angry knight might be lurking.
When rounding the mirror she stopped and looked carefully at her own reflection. She recognized this mirror; she had come across it in her seventh year and had seen herself kissing her teenage sweetheart, Dougal McGregor. Heart hammering she moved closer. Was she going to see him again? He was long gone, dead and buried, she knew this, but in her heart she still missed him terribly.
Finaly she stood right in front of the glass, staring intently. First she saw herself, concentrated and a bit scared looking, and then the image changed. Her mirror self smiled, then looked at a shadow next to her. The reflection reached out and stroked the shadows face, smiling, before putting her arm around it, holding it possessively, eyes flooded with love.
Minerva stared back at the mirror, confusion showing quite obvious on her face. Dumbledore took her hand and led her away, as he had done a few years ago when she saw the mirror for the first time. "I see myself." She thought hard. "I see myself holding… someone…" she felt lost for words. "A shadow… of someone… Why would my heart desire something so abstract?" Who belonged that shadow to? At first she had assumed it was Dougal, now a shadow because he was dead, but then she realized that this shadow was shorter than her, with feminine curves and long hair. A woman?
Her face screwed up in effort to remember more details, and for a second she had turned back to have another look, but the headmaster had already led her out of the chamber and up a tunnel, which sealed itself behind her, becoming solid wall. "Maybe you saw someone from your future?" said Albus, eyes twinkling madly. She snorted loudly at that, and gave him a look of disgust. He laughed in return, knowing way to well his former students' lack of belief in fortunetelling, tea leaves and predicting the future. She snorted again, then bid him good night as their paths separated, him moving up the stairs to the headmasters office, while she longed for her first floor study.
That night she dreamt of a set of dark, brown eyes, and heard a soft voice sing. When she woke hours later the dream faded in the morning sun, just like the shadow in the Mirror.
It was September 1st, and the deputy headmistress stood silently behind the door, waiting. Hagrid was on his way with the first years, and she would collect them here, to lead them into the great hall.
She could hear the sound of exited voices, and opened the doors, pulling herself up to her fullest height and stared down at them. All the children fell silent immediately, at the sight of her towering over them.
A red headed boy who looked alarmingly much like two of her most challenging second year Gryffindors had a black smudge over his nose, while a round faced boy looked on the verge of tears, clutching a large toad. A sandy haired boy in the back had a black burn mark on his new robe. A large beefy boy had a swollen finger which looked like something had bitten it, and was standing next to a blonde boy who seemed to feel right at home already. A bushy haired little girl with huge brown eyes was literally shaking with anticipation, grinning madly and staring up at here in awe. Then of course she recognized Harry Potter, who looked so much like his father that she had to swallow hard to stop herself from getting emotional.
She gave them the usual speech, led them into the castle, and left them in a chamber to smarten up. Minutes later she led them into the great hall, and placed the sorting hat on its stool. She began reading out names, and one by one they sat on it to get their verdict.
She had made a sort of sport of guessing the house by looking at the student, and more than 9 out of 10 times she did get it right. Most of the times the hat desided straight away, other times it took a while. When the bushy brown haired little girl sat down the hat went very quiet, for a long time. She had guessed this girl to be a Ravenclaw, and was a bit surprised when the hat finally roared "Gryffindor!" The girl seemed happy though, and ran off to sit with her new classmates.
Her house got a fine lot, including the toadboy, the burn mark, the redhead (whom she had learned with some turning of the stomach was a Weasley like the crazy twins), and of course Harry Potter – like his mum and dad before him.
She smiled at them all, and sat down at the head table to eat, chat and observe.
The students filed out of the great hall and up or down to their dormitories. Minerva watched as the first years huddled together close behind their Prefects, heads probably spinning with new impressions.
She smiled as she saw several of the youngsters yawn, eyes already a little droopy. Soon they would be tucked into beds lined with clean, warm sheets, fast asleep. Her heart sang out for the muggle born kids especially, who had just experienced their very first piece of magic, and would wake up in the morning just a tad more excited than the rest of the students.
She would be in her cat form on their arrival to her first transfiguration class. She loved making an impression!
The professors had risen and were chatting merrily to each other, while the house elves busied themselves with cleaning of tables, benches and floors. Feasts were always a bit of a messy affair, with so much food and so many children.
Dumbledore smiled, and excused himself to the owlery, which he did every year. "Someone has to make sure the feathery friends are alright!" he said with a beam. Minerva secretly thought this was more of an excuse to pet the birds, which the old wizard seemed to have an absurd passion for.
Shaking her head and smiling she walked over to the end of the staff table and picked up the sorting hat. She would take it back to the headmasters' office, before she withdrew to her chambers for the night. As she started walking the stairs the hat made a sudden puffing sound, startling her. It puffed again, and then spoke with a grin "I saw a light today, Miss McGonagall".
She stopped and stared at the hat. "Pardon?" The hats would-be mouth opened again, and it sounded almost as if it was mocking her.
"I saw a light, Miss McGonagall. And be damned, it's gonna hit you like a bolt of lightning. Trust this old fool's hat, that youngling is going to blow your mind and capture your heart."
Minerva McGonagall looked dumbstruck at the hat in her hands, as it fell silent. It did not stir again. She thought for a second about actually putting the hat on, to question it further about what this light was, and if it was some sort of warning. But then, it sort of didn't sound like a warning, more like… a… she didn't even want to think the word, she so resented the prospect of it being possible. But still… a prophesy?
Sooo, what do you think? Is there any hope for this story?