"Necessary precautions"
The door to the Transfiguration classroom opened with a squeaky sound. There was an instant silence among the students. The spell was broken when, without any rush, the professor made his way to the blackboard.
"Oh no, not him again!" whispered Margot Droope, a Ravenclaw girl who became Minerva's deskmate after Augusta dropped the subject. With an irritated sigh, the witch muttered, "There goes another boring lesson."
Minerva couldn't agree more. Judging from the faces of the other sixth years, they weren't thrilled about another absence of their teacher, either. The newly appointed Professor Wilkes, who had been assigned as Professor Dumbledore's substitute, appeared to know little about Transfiguration. Truth be told, anyone would seem like a novice when compared to their Head of House, the girl thought, yet Professor Wilkes was an entirely different case. Last week, during his second day at Hogwarts, there was some unpleasant accident on his lesson that caused a seventh year Hufflepuff to spend three days in the Hospital Wing. Since then, Wilkes's classes included very little practice and a whole lot of writing.
Which made them unbearably boring. Some argued, even more so than Binns's History of Magic.
Still, the wizard's worst offence, at least according to Minerva, was making numerous mistakes during his lecture.
"Good morning, class. In today's lesson, you are going to learn your first Conjuring Spell that creates a living animal," the teacher explained in a sharp voice. "This spell is known as Avifors, and it allows the user to conjure a small-breed bird. More advanced witches and wizards are able to make multiple creatures with a single flick−"
Unable to stop herself, Minerva rolled her eyes. "Oh, please," she said in a low voice. "It's Avis, not Avifors. With Avifors, you transform inanimate matter."
"−control its species and size," Professor Wilkes went on. "Although nobody has ever been able to conjure anything bigger than a pigeon−"
"Until eight years ago, when Goodwill proved that it is possible to materialize a Galapagos penguin," added Minerva in an undertone. She could understand that not everyone was up-to-date with recent discoveries. But the fact she presented was already in their textbooks!
She glanced around the class, more than sure that she couldn't have been the only one to notice. However, to the girl's dismay, most of the class blindly copied the professor's every word.
"How can you write this stuff down?" asked Minerva, having noticed that Margot was taking notes, as well. "I thought you knew better than this."
"Shhh!" The Ravenclaw girl reacted with impatience. "Shut up, alright? I'm trying to concentrate."
Offended and even more resigned, Minerva sat low in her chair, her arms folded in a silent protest. She hadn't written a single letter since the lesson started, and she planned to keep it that way.
In the meantime, Professor Wilkes continued in his sleep-inducing voice,
"To cast the spell successfully, all you need to do is say the incantation loudly and clearly, with the accent on the first syllable. Continuing from last week, when you were taught to cast wordless spells, you are expected to think the incantation instead. The wand movement…"
At this moment, Minerva stopped listening. Fortunately, she learned all about the lesson's topic several weeks in advance. Today, her individual schedule presented by Professor Dumbledore provided the witch with an entirely different task. However, she had already read the theory, and she didn't feel daring enough to practise even wordless spells without permission. With no other alternatives at hand, Minerva took out The Standard Book of Spells and, not even trying to be discrete, began to do the homework from today's Charms.
"McGonagall!" she heard after filling up half a parchment. The girl lifted her head at once. Both the teacher and the class were looking at her expectantly.
"Yes?" she asked, confused.
"Will you answer my question?" said the professor, not pleased to be forced to repeat himself.
Helplessly, Minerva glanced at Margot for help. Her friend attempted to communicate without drawing too much attention, but to no avail.
The Gryffindor's defiant eyes met the professor's.
"Could you repeat, sir? The question, I mean."
Professor Wilkes closed his eyes for a second too long. He was evidently losing his patience.
"What I said was, what are you supposed to do when thinking the incantation does not produce results?"
Minerva did her best not to snort. This wasn't a N.E.W.T.-level question.
"You whisper the incantation instead," she said, stopping herself from inserting a sarcastic remark.
As she gave the correct answer, the professor had to find another thing to scold her for.
"Put that things away, McGonagall. In this classroom, you learn Transfiguration."
Far from thrilled, Minerva obeyed the order. She did this in her own way, though. The unfinished homework landed back at the bottom of her schoolbag. In its place, the girl laid down her Transfiguration notebook with the paper she and Dumbledore had been writing sticking barely from the bottom. This was an early draft, a follow-up to her first publication, detailing how she learned to transform into her Animagus form without a wand or incantation. She was more or less done with the rough sketch, although she was still having problems with the conclusions section. Given the circumstances, the witch thought her work was going quite well. Until…
"McGonagall!"
When she looked blankly at his face for the second time today, the professor had had enough.
"Are you deaf? I've told you to put that away!" Professor Wilkes stated firmly, his voice raising with each word.
"I did," said Minerva with a triumphant smirk. She was not easily intimidated. "These are my Transfiguration notes."
"Let me see."
The teacher looked through her things without a warning. She had no opportunity to hide the extra pages.
The wizard picked them up for everyone to see. "These have nothing to do with today's lesson. Is your attention too much to ask for?"
There was no reason to deny it. She gave the faintest of shrugs.
"I already know the Conjuring Spells, both in theory and practice. I don't need to pay attention."
Unfortunately, her justification had not the desired effect.
"This was my last warning," informed the professor, giving Minerva back her possessions. "You'll face detention with me, starting tonight."
"But, sir!" the witch interrupted, unable to comprehend Professor Wilkes's logic. "I've already learned the topic of this lesson. I can't relearn it even if I tried. So instead of wasting time, I do my things without disturbing the rest of the class. What seems to be the problem here?"
This argumentation got her nowhere.
"One more day it is. Do you want the whole week?"
Minerva gaped at him. She was about to answer when Margot kicked her under the table. Her friend shook her head, telling Minerva to let go.
With a huge sense of injustice, the girl did just that, slumping deep in her seat. This was just perfect, she thought. All she wanted to do was to use the extra hour to her advantage, and instead she was robbed of much more time. How she was to fit two wasted evenings into her tight schedule was beyond her.
Fortunately, it wasn't long until the bell. Otherwise, the professor might have noticed that Minerva was only pretending to take notes.
Later that day, the witch arrived at the Detention Room. For the first time in years, she actually had to ask for directions. To her knowledge, no other teacher ever used this room. Apparently, Dumbledore's substitute did not get his own office.
The Detention Room was small and dusty, which confirmed Minerva's suspicions that nobody was using it. There were two rows of student benches, as well as one large desk reserved for the professor. It seemed that former generations of students used to spend their detentions sitting in place until it ended.
Lucky crups. Minerva shivered at the thought of her possible punishment. Especially that the punisher had it in for her for some unknown reason.
With a heavy sigh, she took the chair that was furthest from the teacher's desk and waited. There was still time before her detention was about to start. This gave her an opportunity to do some thinking.
During all her years at Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore hadn't missed a single lesson. Until two weeks ago, when he disappeared without prior notice. She learned about this post-factum with the rest of the students. Minerva recalled asking Flamel about her teacher's whereabouts, pretending that she was supposed to meet him later that day.
If Professor Dumbledore wanted you to know where he went and why, he would have told you, now, wouldn't he?
His reply hurt. Not because the alchemist apparently knew the answer. He and Dumbledore were old friends, so it was expectable that he'd be well-informed. It hurt because it was probably true, which made her feel as if she was not important, even though his disappearance affected her personally. They were in the middle of writing a publication for Transfiguration Today, after all. Other than simply wanting to see him, she truly needed his advice.
Even more unhappy than a moment ago, the witch sat with her head on her arms, looking ahead with resignation.
She never heard the door click.
"Had a hard day, I presume?"
Minerva flinched, startled. At once, her eyes landed on the very person that spoke to her. She blinked. This wasn't the wizard she expected to arrive.
Professor Dumbledore stood between the entrance and the row of student benches. He was not wearing his usual teaching robes and was instead dressed in formal Muggle clothes. Minerva's first thought was that they made him look rather handsome. He had no travelling cloak on, but his reddened cheeks and nose indicated that he must have recently returned to the castle. The wizard looked tired and somewhat underslept. Yet, to Minerva's luck, he seemed rather pleased to see her.
"I've been away for less than two weeks and you've already managed to get yourself a detention?" he said with the usual twinkle in his eyes.
"It's good to see you, Professor," she greeted him, as he leaned against the bench nearest hers. Had he sat at the teacher's desk, they would have to shout to one another. "I was expecting Professor Wilkes."
Mischievously, Albus raised an eyebrow.
"Are you disappointed?"
"No," she replied with a short laugh. "Not at all."
The teacher smiled at her and then went straight to the point.
"So, could you tell me to what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you here?"
For the next few moments, he patiently listened as his student complained about her new professor, not leaving anything out. She spoke with passion, almost in one breath, in a manner that was exceptionally emotional for her.
"…And then, he threatened me with a week of detentions! I mean, isn't that way too excessive? It's not like I broke a rule or anything."
"I must say," stated Professor Dumbledore in a calm voice, "that you version of the story significantly differs from what I've heard from Professor Wilkes." His words expressed interest rather than doubts or suspicions.
"You talked to Professor Wilkes?" Minerva's brows went up.
"First thing after my arrival. He was rather disturbed by the event himself."
The girl snorted, showing no sympathy whatsoever.
"In fact, Minerva, it is me you should direct your anger to," admitted Albus, to the student's utter surprise. "Because, you see, in my hurry to leave the castle, I completely forgot to mention to Professor Wilkes about your special privileges during my classes."
His comment gave Minerva a pause. It definitely wasn't anger she was feeling towards him. She wasn't easily distracted, though.
"But still, every other teacher is perfectly fine with letting students do whatever they want after they've finished their assignments. I don't see why this should be any different."
Involuntarily, the corners of Albus's mouth twitched in amusement.
"Oh yes, one might expect that."
On the contrary, his student found neither of their statements funny.
"You must have noticed," Dumbledore explained, "that Professor Wilkes is different from the other teachers. It just so happens that he is rather strict, doesn't like being interrupted, always demands your full attention, and yes," the wizard added when Minerva tried to interrupt, "he might not have been the most qualified person for the job. Please remember, even though he's not a full-time Hogwarts professor, he has every right to be treated as such."
Disgruntled, the girl gave a short snort. She knew that Professor Dumbledore had a point. Still, there was one thing she failed to grasp.
"Was there truly no one better for the job? I thought people waited in line for a teacher's position."
This time, Albus's smile expressed not happiness nor amusement but rather − sadness.
"Let's just say that better wizards are busy at the moment."
It took a while before she understood. The reality didn't lift her spirits.
The professor clasped his hands together. "It seems we're all caught up now. I believe it's time for your detention."
Minerva's face fell. The moment she saw Dumbledore, she concluded that this time she got away easily. Apparently not..
"Are you serious, Professor?"
"Deadly." He answered in a grave voice. She would have believed him if it wasn't for the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Let us move to a more fitting place, shall we? I never liked this room much."
In his office, Professor Dumbledore offered Minerva a seat before joining her. Without a word, he conjured a cup of tea before her, as he usually did whenever she paid him a visit. The only difference was, there was not a second cup.
With a flick of his wand, Professor Dumbledore summoned something that looked like a pile of old rugs.
"What is this?" asked Minerva in mild disgust.
"These are dirty clothes of your fellow Gryffindors. Please sort them into white, black, and colour, if you may."
The tone of his voice remained calm and gentle. And yet, Minerva could have sworn that the professor was actually amused with himself. She'd heard stories from other students about detentions with the Transfiguration Professor. They told about unusual, often embarrassing tasks, but she never fully believed them.
Now the girl finally knew what they meant.
"Without magic?" she practically stated.
"This is certainly one way to approach the problem," said the teacher in a whimsical manner. He was about to leave when he took a quick glance at his desk and added, "Oh, one more thing. After you're done, please read the essays that lie on my desk. I was supposed to grade them for tomorrow, but I'm afraid I might be a little behind the schedule."
Intrigued, the witch approached the mahogany desk. Without any problems, she found the essays that Dumbledore referred to. He always kept his desktop tidy.
"Do you want me to grade them, sir?"
"Oh no, not at all. I would like you to simply write down your impressions on them. What you liked, what you disliked. Anything that would make the grading process easier."
Minerva nodded, letting the professor know that she understood what he meant. She flicked through the parchments. Six works, less than a page each. This shouldn't take her long.
"Now, if you would excuse me, Minerva, I'll be in my chambers. I must admit, I am a little tired after my travel. If you do need me, please knock on the door. Otherwise, I should be back before you finish."
Wasting no time, the girl sat comfortably in her usual chair and began to read the first work. How to conjure metals − general principles, it said on the top of the page. With a raised eyebrow, Minerva glanced over the rest of the titles. With this, she made quite a discovery.
All the essays concerned the Conjuring Spells and their possible applications. What's more, there were quite a few mistakes in every one of them. Way too many for it to be a simple coincidence. If Minerva had any doubts before, now she was almost certain. She'd been given homework on this particular subject to teach her a lesson. She suspected that making her read the essays was Professor Dumbledore's plan all along, and not the last-minute decision he made it seem to be. Even though she wasn't thrilled about grading other students' works, she had to admit that his choice of punishment was rather clever.
Now, all that remained was to sort the laundry. Ugh.
When Professor Dumbledore returned to his office, he discovered that Minerva hadn't even started yet. Asked why, she said in a pleading voice,
"Just another minute, Professor. I can almost cast a spell that will do the sorting for me."
The corners of his lips twitched, as he held back a laugh.
"You do realize, my dear, that you'd be done by now if you hovered the garments piece by piece?" said the teacher politely.
Apparently, Minerva was too busy to think of a witty reply. Having completely ignored the professor's remark, she redoubled her efforts to finish the task. Albus observed her carefully, trying to notice the problem, so that he could offer his help. Even though his student was using nonverbal magic, the wand movements were almost always unique to a given spell. Knowing what she was trying to accomplish was an additional indicator.
He let her try two more times before interrupting.
"May I?"
The wizard waited for Minerva's confirmation before reaching for her hand. His grip on her wrist was delicate, his breath nice and warm on her cheek. Despite the apparent distractions, she attempted to cast the spell again. Professor Dumbledore corrected her wand movement where necessary. All of a sudden, the pieces of clothing began to move, and one pile of garments turned into three smaller ones.
For a few seconds, she remained motionless, enjoying the warm feeling caused by his proximity. The following silence told her, though, that probably she was supposed to say something.
"Thank you." She emphasized her statement with a courteous nod, as her heart was pounding in her chest.
"You're quite welcome," stated Albus, letting go of her hand as he slowly backed away. He took the opposite seat. "Did you manage to take a look at the essays?"
The girl blinked at him, but she recovered quickly.
"Yes, and I wrote my corrections on a separate piece of parchment."
"Very well," he said, satisfied. "Have you learnt anything from evaluating their content?"
Minerva gave the question a thought.
"That everyone makes mistakes?" she teased only half-jokingly.
"I hoped you've already known as much," said the professor with a smirk. "Anything else?"
A crease appeared on the witch's forehead as she tried to guess what her teacher meant. Slowly, she shook her head. The Transfiguration Professor hurried with an explanation.
"Correcting others' mistakes is a significant part of a teacher's job. If you plan to pursue a career in education, you might want to work on your reactions to someone else's mistakes and disinformation. This includes other teachers."
"Work on my reactions, how?" His student didn't understand.
"Next time you disagree, raise a hand, Minerva."
Probably because it was so obvious, Professor Dumbledore's answer made her blush a light shade of pink.
"You'd be wise to get accustomed to Professor Wilkes's lessons." Albus said each word slowly, still not entirely certain he should share this piece of information with her. He made a short pause, took another glance in her wide, green eyes. He made a decision. "They might take place more often than you anticipate."
Suddenly alarmed, Minerva asked, "Does this mean you'll be leaving again?"
"I'm afraid so, yes."
"But why?"
Such a simple question with such a complicated, convoluted answer. Lowering his gaze in abashment, Albus was forced to admit,
"This is the one thing I cannot tell you, I'm afraid."
The girl said nothing, so he looked up to check on her. Her face was tense with hurt and disappointment. He quickly added,
"I can't tell anyone, for that matter. Necessary precautions, you see. You'll learn in due time."
"You told Professor Flamel," she pointed out, not without accusation.
Albus gave a heavy sigh. "Professor Flamel learnt this on his own accord. Luckily for me, he is a trusted friend, and my secrets are safe with him," he emphasized, giving Minerva a look that told her not to bother the old wizard.
Minerva sat straight in her chair, more worried than a moment ago. Even if she was never to find out why Professor Dumbledore was leaving the school, she just needed to make one thing perfectly clear. Not out of mere curiosity, but because she honestly worried and cared for him. But how on Merlin could she justify suspecting her teacher of trying to find Grindelwald?
Although she was doing her best to be discrete, Albus could easily tell that she was about to ask him another question. He gave her some space to prepare herself. Yet, this didn't seem to help. So, he decided to encourage her.
"Come on, Minerva, spill it out."
The girl smiled nervously, lowering her eyes. She crossed her arms and cleared her throat before finally saying,
"Could you talk to Professor Wilkes about tomorrow's detention, please? I think I've learned my lesson."
Coward, she thought to herself. To think that she called herself a Gryffindor.
Dumbledore gave Minerva a quick look-over. His piercing look made the girl feel as if she'd been X-rayed.
"I'll see what I can do," was the wizard's final answer. For the sake of clarity, he added, "But please, try to behave during my absence. The situation is difficult enough for everyone."
Begrudgingly, the witch gave him a small, compliant nod.