Minerva sat alone in a compartment of the Hogwarts Express, reading an advanced transfiguration textbook. She'd always had a fondness for the subject and her growing friendship with her transfiguration professor only made her more eager to excel in the subject; and everything else really. She wanted to be exactly what he'd said, an asset to Gryffindor, to his house.
The door of the compartment stood open and two boys stood there, one in his fifth year, and one in his sixth.
"All alone," snarled Valerius, the fifth year.
Minerva glanced up at her brothers and then returned her gaze to her book before replying.
"Unless there are some invisible people, whose presence I am unaware of."
"Dad's going to hate you, you know," Valerius continued, "You're a Gryffindor."
Her eldest brother, Rex, joined in, "Dad said you're no longer part of the family. Especially now he knows you've been playing chess with that muggle – lover. He says you're no better than a house elf."
"Then why are you wasting your time talking to me," she inquired.
Her brothers sneered and turned to leave.
"I'd watch out when we get home, Minnie," Rex hissed as he closed the door behind them, "You're not going to have a good summer."
She ignored him and pretended to keep reading, secretly dreading the moment the train would pull up at platform 9¾ and she would be forced to spend two weeks in London with her family. She knew those weeks would be even worse than the rest of the holiday spent at their mansion in Scotland, at least there she could disappear into the grounds.
When the train pulled into the platform Minerva moved very slowly to get off, and was one of the last to leave. Fearfully she made her way over to where her parents and brothers stood, wondering what on earth had possessed her when deciding not to be placed in Slytherin.
None of her family said a word to her as she approached them, they simply turned to leave. It wasn't until they arrived at the small inn, close to the Ministry of Magic, where they would be staying and prepared to go and unpack in their rooms that her father spoke to her.
"Stay here," he commanded, "I want to speak with you whilst the others unpack."
Minerva remained standing beside him as her brothers and her mother left the room.
"I think you understand, Minerva, how disappointed I am by your Sorting."
She nodded.
"I might have been able to accept the Sorting hat's change of decision as a mistake," he growled, "But now I hear you've been having late night meetings with Albus Dumbledore – playing chess with the dammed fool."
Minerva remained silent.
"Is it true?" her father demanded.
She had never felt less like a courageous Gryffindor, still, she nodded.
He grabbed her by the neck of her robes and pushed her against the solid wall behind her.
"You are no daughter of mine," he growled at her, "You have brought disgrace to your family name. I will not forget this, Minerva."
She stared at him fearfully, wondering what he would do. He produced his wand and muttered a curse under his breath. She immediately felt a sudden surge of pain, bringing tears to her eyes.
"You will learn to bring honour to your family, Minerva," he hissed, "I will not have my own daughter disobeying me. Do you understand?"
She nodded, the tears slowly trickling down her cheeks. He relinquished his hold on her and she sank to the floor.
"Unpack your trunk here," he ordered her, "You will keep only what items I deem necessary and you will not contact that muggle-loving fool over the summer. Once you return to school, you will also avoid all possible association with him. Do I make myself clear?"
She nodded, trembling slightly and fumbled with the catch on her trunk before opening it and beginning to lay out her possessions for her father's inspection.
It was Remus Lupin who paused the story this time, reaching out with his wand and holding the string whilst looking concernedly at Professor McGonagall.
"Minerva?" he said gently.
The other occupants of the room turned to look at the transfiguration professor. Her face was very pale and she was biting her lip, apparently in an effort to hold back her tears.
Molly Weasley stood and moved carefully across the room to take a seat beside the older woman and tenderly place an arm around her shoulders.
"Are you alright, Minerva?" she asked gently.
McGonagall shook herself out of her reverie and glanced around the room.
"I'm fine," she said in a perfectly controlled voice, leaning forwards towards the pensieve and in doing so, moving away from Molly Weasley's arm. "Shall we continue?"
The other occupants of the room glanced at each other warily, a little concerned for McGonagall and how she felt about this telling of her story.
However, Alastor Moody gave a nod and grunted, slightly more gruffly than usual, "Go on then, Minerva, we don't have all day and we have a lot to get through. Albus is a sentimental old fool when it comes to stories, never tells you anything quickly if he can make a long drawn out tale of it."
The uncomfortable silence in the room was mostly broken by Moody's comments, although Harry continued to stare at McGonagall, comparing his own unpleasant childhood to hers.
"Very well," said McGonagall curtly, reaching back into the pensieve with her wand. "I spent the first two weeks of that summer in London with my parents. It was," she paused, "Difficult. My father was at the Ministry much of the time, but whenever he was home he made his disapproval and anger clear and I had little opportunity to avoid him."
She took a deep breath and Molly patted her shoulder gently before she continued. "After that, we returned to our manor in Scotland, where I spent the rest of the holiday."