1948 December
It was early in the morning however, not everyone was sleeping in the Scottish manse.
Minerva McGonagall was sitting, her knees drawn up to her chest, on the window seat in her bedroom. Her eyes were watching the delicate snowflakes drifting in a downwards spiral towards the already covered ground and she stared transfixed by the elegant meander of the ice crystals.
It was Christmas Day and Minerva smiled slightly at the thought of the looks of excitement, which would no doubt be etched on her brother's faces when they finally got out of bed. She knew that Robert, who was now in his first year at Hogwarts, had terribly missed their parents even though he would never admit it. She chuckled softly at her brother's attitude knowing full well that she had been exactly the same as a first year.
It was for more than half an hour that Minerva sat there as she had woken up at five o'clock in the morning. Contemplating on whether she should accompany her father to church, Minerva lifted her hand and gently wiped the condensation off her window, peering through the small square she'd made as she did so.
A sigh escaped her lips as she thought longingly of the castle she was now able to call home. Perhaps next year she'd stay for Christmas she thought. Her friend Pomona had told her the decorations were absolutely wonderful every year.
Suddenly Minerva jumped up from her previously sitting position and looked wildly around the room. Thinking of Hogwarts had reminded her of the homework Albus Dumbledore had set her.
After having asked him numerous times the previous year, her Transfiguration Professor had finally accepted to teach her how to become an animagus. The journey had been long and arduous, however, Minerva being the girl she was, was not easily dissuaded. The young girl spent every day practising the spell in order to make the transformation easier.
Hurriedly she scrambled off the window seat and stood in the centre of her room, allowing her more space to transform. Thankful that Dumbledore had spoken to the Ministry about her practising the spell in Caithness, she closed her eyes and concentrated hard.
"Amato Animo Animato Animagus" she whispered while still speaking clearly.
Almost immediately after repeating the spell she felt her skin melt into fur, her body shrink until she would have been easily able to hide under her bed, and her senses becoming much more pronounced. The feeling was wonderful and Minerva revelled in this new sentiment of utmost pleasure and freedom.
Thankful that she only had to practise this spell for another week until she could change at free will, Minerva opened her eyes and padded across her small bedroom floor. She jumped up onto the ledge she had previously been seated on and internally laughed at how agile she had become. She then curled up on the soft cushions covering the seat and closed her eyes.
The bright sun batted against her eyelids and Minerva opened her eyes gently. She peered out of the window to see that the sun had risen however, the village still looked dormant. Too impatient to wait any longer Minerva jumped off from where she was perched and again, concentrating hard, transformed back into herself again.
A few minutes later she was carefully tiptoeing down the stairs of her house, heading towards the living room. When she entered the room, the cold air hit her hard and she hurried towards the fireplace with aim of trying to light a fire. After doing so Minerva walked around the room a bit. She walked towards the bookshelf and traced her fingers along the many books her father had collected and bought.
A wave of nostalgia hit her like a tidal wave. It was the first time she had been alone in the room she once so adored since she had arrived back in Caithness and Minerva felt all the memories flooding back. Finally, she paused and selected one of her favourite books which her father used to read to her every night as a child. She smiled slightly as the book slid out of its place on the shelf and carefully she walked towards her father's favourite armchair and settled down in it, book in hand and covering herself with a tartan blanket.
"I see someone has stolen my seat," said a voice which startled the young girl so much the book nearly flew out of her hands.
"Sorry lass," continued her father, a large grin on his face, "I didn't mean to scare you."
Minerva's face also bore a huge smile and she hastily removed the covers she had wrapped herself in, put the book down and rushed to hug her father.
After returning from Hogwarts her father had not been able to greet them due to him having needed to travel to London. This was now the first time she had seen him in several months and Minerva felt immeasurable joy as she saw him walk into the living room, his glasses and his favourite pyjamas on.
"'I've missed you," she said as she ran into her father's outstretched arms.
Robert beamed and patted her head gently as she wrapped her arms around him, "Now what time do you call this young lady," he said with mock seriousness.
Minerva gave sheepish smiled, "I couldn't sleep. Can I come to church with you today?"
Robert's eyebrows shot up, "Of course you can sweetheart. I'll be leaving in an hour or so."
Minerva nodded and as her father patted her head again the sound of hurried footsteps echoed around the house. Her smile grew bigger as Malcolm and Robert came bursting into the living room.
"We're back," yelled Robert who was holding Minerva's hand.
Minerva giggled as Malcolm came rushing into the room his arms wrapped around two massive boxes.
"Finally! Minerva look at all the presents!" he shouted a huge grin on his face. Then, just as quickly as he had come, the young boy dashed out of the hallway. The creaking of springs audible through the corridor as Malcolm leapt onto the sofa.
Hand in hand, both Minerva and her father walked through the to the living room to be greeted by her mother Isobel and her younger brother Robert.
"Well, Malcolm is desperate to open presents so hurry and sit down quickly," said Isobel and Minerva nodded sitting down on a space on the floor next to her mother.
