Headmistress McGonagall remained silent while Madame Pomfrey paced back and forth in her office. Her speech was punctuated with the periodic wave of her hands, as if she needed to use her hands to make an exclamation mark.
"Ma'am, he's a natural! He's got a natural grasp on spell reversal! Just needs some more practice, and the area that has impressed me the most is his grasp of antidotes. That is the hardest for any Healer, because so many potions can be mixed together to create a poison, and to create the antidote you begin getting into some heavy Potion Theory, very advanced stuff…I list him a few symptoms and he's got an encyclopedic knowledge of what could be wrong. His diagnostic skills are on par with Senior Apprentice Healers. I would like to see if we can send him to St. Mungo's on the weekends, or in the evenings. Even though he hasn't tested yet, why can't he work as a Junior Apprentice Healer? Or an Assistant to a Junior Apprentice?"
"Poppy, I just don't know…" McGonagall was very hesitant.
"Look, I'll accompany him."
"Poppy, he needs parental approval to leave Hogwart's grounds. Even if it is for academic enhancement."
"Okay, we'll get it."
"It isn't just that. I don't have any sway at Saint Mungo's."
"Minerva! Did you forget that I used to be the Director of Healers and I still sit on the Board of Members at St. Mungo's? And, did you forget who donated enough money to build not one, but two, new wing additions to the hospital?" Poppy Pomfrey placed both hands on the desk and leaned in, and almost growled, "Lucius. Lucius Malfoy practically owns two-thirds of Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies. Now, if his son, who happens to be the head of the Malfoy family, given his father's state of indisposition, wants to get some hands-on training, I don't see why the staff at Saint Mungo's would have a problem with that."
"Poppy Pomfrey!" Headmistress McGonagall interjected sharply. "I give you permission to look into it, or I will, if you would prefer. However. You are forgetting yourself. The Malfoy family no longer has any influence in anything. At all. Were it not for Snape's will, Draco would have nothing. The ministry seized all of their assets until Lucius' sentencing is served, or did you read any of the Daily Prophet's scandalous stories following the persecution of the Malfoys? They were, perhaps, the family in most deep with Voldemort, and yet, got off with the lightest sentencing. The Wizarding Community has not forgiven, nor forgotten. Lucius will be released from Azkaban at the end of the year, and to be completely blunt, he does not want his son to be a Healer. I practically bullied Narcissa into allowing her son to choose his own course of study. I suspect this won't continue in the second semester. So, go ahead. Call Healer Heilen and request permission for this bright student, the only one who wishes to pursue healing in this graduating class, in fact, to get some hands-on training. Let me know what he says, and I will talk to the Malfoys. If that is all, you're dismissed."
Madam Pomfrey looked a bit taken aback at the brusque dismissal, but feeling she had scored, if not a complete victory, at least a temporary compromise, she headed back to the Hospital wing.
Draco Malfoy was waiting outside the Headmistress' office, and Madam Pomfrey almost ran into him. "Oh, Malfoy, what are you doing here?"
"Headmistress summoned me." Draco started to blush a little, but decided that as Madam Pomfrey was his favorite professor this year, and he was her only student, it wouldn't matter if he told her, "She meets with me once a week. I think to make sure I'm doing okay. It hasn't been a good year for me. And I think Uncle Sev made her promise."
Madam Pomfrey straightened her wimple and said "Oh. Well, carry on with you, then. I trust I will see you this afternoon?"
Draco grinned, "Oh, yes ma'am, of course. I have a few questions about the reading assignment you gave me on Florence Nightingale."
Madam Pomfrey patted his shoulder and said "Good. This afternoon, then."
Draco stepped into the staircase and knocked on the Headmistress' door.
"Enter!"
"Headmistress."
"Oh, you're early, Master Malfoy, how are you?" McGonagall tossed a quill to the floor. This had become routine between them: Draco must transfigure whatever item McGonagall chose into a chair. Sometimes she had to fix his attempts, but recently he'd gotten quite good. Last week, it was a paperclip, and he was quite proud of the collapsible metal chair he'd created. A feather, though, he'd be lucky if he didn't accidentally turn that into a pillow, or worse, a bed. He cocked his head, and before he could flick his wrist, the Headmistress asked, "Would you like some theoretical instruction before you begin?"
"Yes, ma'am. I'm afraid I'm going to make that into a bed." He glanced up at McGonagall, hoping she wouldn't mistake his comment for impertinence. Since the start of the school year, Malfoy had developed a very strong need for her approval. He wasn't sure why; the best explanation he could come up with was that MacGonagal was one of the few who refused to treat him differently despite his actions during The Great War. Also, she was the strongest tie he had left to his Uncle Severus Snape. He still blamed himself for his uncle's death. Snape sacrificed everything for his nephew, his freedom by Narcissa's command, his soul when he chose to take Dumbledore's life instead of forcing Draco to do so, and his life when he stood up to The Dark Lord in protecting Draco. Draco felt acutely how undeserved his uncle's sacrifices had been.
"Well, that's exactly what I was hoping you'd do, Malfoy, because that shows you understand the elemental concept of Transfiguration. You have grasped, and mastered, the fact Transfiguration will only bend to similar material. The exception being live animals, which really isn't an exception because you are using the life force. We covered that in years 3 and 4, right?"
"Yes, ma'am. That's how you're able to turn a feathery bird into a goblet, which would otherwise be impossible from a feather."
"Exactly. Okay, now, the second step, which is advanced Transfiguration, is, well, let me confirm this, you said you would make it a bed. This is because it is a feather, and it would turn into a feather bed. Yes? That was your logic?" Draco nodded.
"Okay, yes, that's the logic I wanted you to have. Moving on, now, to this feather. We want it to transfigure into a chair. Close your eyes and imagine a chair, any chair. Describe it to me."
Draco felt foolish, but complied. "Um, high wing backed, dark green, dark stained maple legs, the M, you know, the Malfoy M from our, crest, in the center. Ornate carving on the legs and matching design in the sides of the leather."
She asked, "This is a specific chair, at your home?"
"Yes, ma'am. Father's. In the office."
"Excellent. Okay, now you said several different elements, maple, green fabric, the crest, and the carvings. Hold that image in your head. I'm going to describe something else and I want you to imagine this new item as I speak."
"Yes, ma'am." Draco shut his eyes and took a deep, audible breath.
"Imagine a bed, a feather bed. It is a four-poster bed. It is heavy, dark stained maple. There are green curtains around it. The sheets and pillows have ornate embroidery on them. There is a Malfoy M, from the crest-" At this, Draco took a deep, hissing breath, but otherwise remained completely still. He still held his wand loosely between his thumb and forefinger.
"Ah. You follow now."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Excellent. Now, transfigure, mentally, that feather into that bed I just described. And then transfigure it, mentally, into the chair you're imagining. Now, with a swish and a swirl, transfigure the feather directly into the chair."
McGonagall leaned back into her chair, holding her breath. This was the only concept the 7th Years must master. It was so difficult for all of them; it often took more than a whole semester for them to develop an understanding of how all elements were related. The last two months prior to NEWTS was simply spent on proficiency. Granger, of course, had it within a week. McGonagall would give her three objects and odd transfiguration pairing instructions, at the start of each class, and then allow her to use the period to study for other subjects. It really was unfair for the rest of the students, but Granger was the smartest witch of her age and she had reached the same level of Transfiguration knowledge as McGonagall. She just had to work on proficiency. In fact, McGonagall was expecting Granger to inquire about her Animagus form any day now. McGonagall rarely had students reach Animagus levels, but she was holding out for Granger, Malfoy, and Weasley to have mastered the current concepts by the end of the semester. If so, she could start them on Animagus training and it not impede their NEWT studies.
Draco sat still for a minute longer, gathering his thoughts and centering himself. Without an audible spell, he purposefully moved his wand through the air.
MacGonagal couldn't help it—she let out a squeal of surprise and joy. "Malfoy! You've got it!" Draco grinned, and walked around the new chair a few times to admire it before sitting down. He wore a very smug and satisfied smirk.
"Was this all you wanted to see me about, Headmistress? Helping me with my abysmal efforts at transfiguration?"
"Oh, no. Not abysmal in the slightest. But, the reason I asked you here today was because Madam Pomfrey wants you to get some hands-on training at Saint Mungo's. I must have parental consent, and she must escort you. She's offering to take you Friday through Saturday evening. She's working the end out with the hospital. I was going to ask you how you wished me to proceed with your mother. Or if you wished me to do that at all—I could just give you the consent form and let you handle it." McGonagall leaned back into her chair and somberly regarded Draco Malfoy.
"I'd like to try to ask her first."
"Okay. Here's the form. And, here's the keys to your Uncle Severus's old office. I'm going to give them to you with a few words of admonishment: Severus's diary is in there. I have not read it, but he asked that I make sure you have it when you come of age. That's this weekend, yes?" Draco's ducked his head to hide the tears that threatened to drop, and he nodded.
"Also, his will stated that everything in that office is yours. I'm not going to make you clear it out, until you graduate. There is a very extensive, and very expensive, collection of Potion Ingredients, and all of his books. Also, some of his robes, and miscellany. Now, you should be warned that if I find out that you're using his office as a snogging hide-away, or that you're using his ingredients to brew unacceptable potions, Polyjuice, Liquid Luck, Sudden Death, Firewiskey, whatever, I will destroy everything and lock you out off his office. Students should not have access to 90% of what he's got squirreled away in those cabinets. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you. Thank you!" Draco jumped up and grabbed the keys and Consent Form from her desk. As he practically tore out of the office, Headmistress Minierva McGonagall smiled. This was one student that she would have written off had not Albus and Severus taught her one final lesson about life, love, and forgiveness.
