"I'm so sorry"
"Are there any more questions?" Minerva asked the students.
Another hand raised into the air. This time, it was Abraham Grimsditch, a fifth-year Hufflepuff boy. Minerva knew him as a former Chaser, and it took her ages to learn his name.
"Yes?"
"Can you show us how to solve the rest of our homework?" he asked.
All the eyes moved from the young wizard to Minerva. Initially, she meant to say no. Homework was meant to be done by each of them individually, in a dormitory and not in the classroom. But everyone's hopeful stares told her that more students had problems with their latest assignment. Briefly, the girl wondered if she hadn't expected too much from her group.
She took a quick glance at her notes to recall what the homework was about. Still considering the amount of details she should provide, Minerva walked to the front of the room. She picked up a chalk.
"For Cross-Species Switches, there are two fundamental formulas that allow you to calculate the value of intended transformation. We use Jonstonus's equation for large Z and Graves's equation for small Z," the witch explained, making suitable notes on the blackboard. "Mice and rats are similar species, so Z approaches the identity. In this case, Graves's equation is singular, which again shows that you need to calculate the intended transformation using Jonstonus's equation. Now all you have to do is input the parameter values."
A long silence followed Minerva's speech.
"Is it clear?" she asked, wondering whether she should rephrase her explanations.
"Yes, thank you," replied Abraham while copying the notes. He didn't sound sure of himself, not a single bit.
Minerva ignored it. They'd wasted enough time already.
"Good. In this case, let us move to the topic of today's meeting."
She drew a horizontal line on the board. Below it, in capital letters, the witch wrote, SWITCHING SPELLS.
While writing down the instructions, Minerva felt like a professor teaching a class. It was almost as if she'd been doing this her entire life. Even though she'd been giving tutorials for less than two months. Teaching brought her joy. Despite the witch's initial fears, like suddenly forgetting something trivial and making a fool of herself, she found the experience rewarding.
"Excuse me, could you move a little?"
A Slytherin girl pointed to one side, indicating the direction. Apparently, the Head Girl's back was obscuring important parts of the blackboard. Minerva made a step to the right, drawing the remaining diagrams with wand movements in a separate column.
She felt pretty competent on the topic, not having to glance into her notes even once. Switching Spells were one of her favourite types of transfiguration spells. Mainly because they were easy to learn and widely applicable in everyday life. In her third year, she learnt how to adjust the wand movement and concentration to compensate for other transformation parameters without solving the equations. The rest of her peers learned to perform switches for given sets of parameters by the end of the following school year. Even the weakest students were able to use the Switching Spells to some extent.
However, the standards had changed, and Wilkes only touched on the topic last week with his O.W.L. students. Minerva didn't envy them. Having to learn over a year worth of material by yourself is not an easy feat; she knew this by experience.
Which was probably why so many people showed up at her tutorials today. The majority of the group was composed of fifth-year students. There were also several sixth years that had the misfortune of being taught by Wilkes and now struggled with more advanced spells.
Minerva wrote down the last diagram. She gave the students a moment to copy the notes from the blackboard before specifying their task for today.
"Okay, so now, using appropriate formulas, please try to solve the following problems."
One flick of her wand and a piece of parchment landed on every bench. Each contained a list of theoretical exercises with an increasing level of difficulty.
"Let me know when you're done, so that we can verify our solutions. Good luck!"
Having said that, Minerva sat down behind the teacher's desk. She adjusted her seat and straightened her clothes, trying to act natural. It felt odd to find herself on the other side of the desk, especially in front of students not much younger than she was.
The girl looked around the new faces. There were quite a few witches and wizards that she saw for the first or maybe second time. Augusta's advertising worked wonders. Before the girl offered to find Minerva more pupils, the classroom was almost empty. Now, there were hardly any unoccupied chairs. Even Augusta herself joined in for the tutorials. Although, her grades suggested that she only did this to help her friend financially.
Waiting for everyone to finish was a tedious task. Minerva could probably do her own homework in the meantime, but then she'd feel that she's not earning her money. As it was still too early to rush the group, she instead made a round between the benches, checking how much progress was made. One boy's scribbling caught her attention for a little longer. She had to squint to read his untidy writing.
"You missed the change of direction," she pointed at the first line of his notes. "Don't forget to correct this in the following lines."
"Yipe! Yer righ'. Lemme change tha'."
A warm smile graced Minerva's lips. Hagrid was making a very good progress, especially for a self-taught former wizard. He told her once that he always studied after work. Mr. Ogg wholeheartedly supported the boy's thirst of knowledge. Every year, the older wizard ordered next-grade books for his helper and even demonstrated simple spells. However, the girl could bet Hagrid found it easier to have somebody teach him the more advanced topics rather than learn everything by himself.
At last, first hands raised to the air. Only one person did not provide the correct answer. Once the theory was over, they could move on to the practical part.
"Now, you're going to apply what you've learned in your spellwork. Here are the objects that I prepared for you today. Your objective is to exchange their positions and simultaneously adjust the size, depending on the input parameters from earlier exercises. You have time until the end of the lesson. Of course, let me know if you have any troubles with the assignment. You have time until the end of the lesson."
The moment Minerva was done handing out small lizards and silver goblets, another fifth year raised his hand. This was Cormac Weiss, one of Augusta's friends.
"What was the incantation for size-changing switching spells?"
"Converto Engorgione or Converto Reducione, depending on the target size difference," said the witch in one breath.
The student's face expressed confusion. He grabbed his quill.
"Can you spell it?"
The Head Girl took a deep breath before writing down the incantations, letter by letter.
"You do realize this is a second-year material?" she asked, not without a hint of sarcasm.
"Yes, but I was sick and had to stay in the Hospital Wing," replied the young wizard in a guilty, embarrassed voice. Under Minerva's disapproving look, he added, "And then, I was behind with everything. I spent days and nights to catch up. I didn't have enough time to learn this."
Having briefly wondered how the boy passed his Transfiguration exams, Minerva resumed her walk around the classroom. Not even a minute later, Cormac spoke up again.
"Excuse me, but this incantation doesn't work. Which syllable should I stress?"
Minerva approached the blackboard one more time. She underlined the accented syllables, breaking the chalk in the process.
"Oh, sorry," she mumbled, picking up the fallen piece.
Although the girl tried to hide it, it was obvious that she disliked being asked obvious questions. From the students that attended her tutorials, she expected to possess a basic knowledge on Transfiguration and related subjects. Not without merit. Every time she ended up explaining trivial things, they couldn't focus on the main topic of the meeting. A waste of her time and everyone else's money, Minerva considered it. A disrespect to the students that, with a little bit of work, actually had a chance to get a good O.W.L. grade. Her first instinct was to tell the ignorants to leave and come back once they are serious about passing the exams.
But they paid. And Minerva needed the money.
Asking Malcolm for help was out of the question. He was starting a family now and had more urgent things to buy. For the first time in two years, the siblings could really use the inheritance from their parents. However, right after the funeral, they both agreed to go through their belongings before selling the house. This, on the other hand, was not possible as long as Malcolm could not return to the country.
Therefore, the witch was on her own. Even if her recent sight problems were caused by Quidditch, Minerva didn't suppose that Hogwarts had ever heard of health insurance. Meantime, her eyesight was worsening, and she could really use a new pair of glasses. Unfortunately, in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds, these things weren't cheap. Her last option was to earn the entire sum by herself, and tutoring students was the only way she knew how.
This was why, even though it physically hurt her, Minerva wrote the incantation on the board for everyone to see. Together with the phonetics, stress and all. There was no way anyone had troubles with this spell anymore.
Then, once again, she walked around the class and sought out people who needed further instructions. She helped Pomona Sprout with the wand movement, advised Poppy Pomfrey to speak slower. Adjusted Hagrid's grip on her own wand and reminded him that it could malfunction when he used it. Not counting two students who got frustrated with making no progress, everyone seemed to be doing relatively well.
Minerva was speaking to Alex Turner when she heard a loud bang. They both jumped and looked around. One of the desks was smashed to smithereens by an oversized goblet. Behind the whole mess, there stood a startled-looking Slytherin wizard, Theo Nott. The boy's foot was on his overturned chair, his wand still in his hand.
"You're okay?" asked Minerva, approaching the student in a quick pace.
Theo responded with a series of quick nods, his eyes still on the silver goblet. The Head Girl looked him up from head to toe, just to be sure that he had no injuries. Then, with a single flick of her wand, she returned the student's workplace to its previous state.
After colour returned to his face, Theo seemed irritated and maybe a little disappointed. He said in a high-pitch voice,
"W−Why did this happen? I did everything right and this stupid thing just blew out of proportions!"
The class went silent. Everyone looked from the boy to Minerva.
"Maybe you slowed down the movement but forgot about stretching the incantation?" she suggested, recalling the most common mistake with this kind of spells.
"I didn't stretch anything, just slowed down my wand movement."
Involuntarily, Minerva's lips formed into a knowing smirk.
"This is probably why your object's size increased too much. You should always match the movement and the incantation."
"But Professor Dumbledore said otherwise," the boy complained.
Minerva felt as if someone had drowned her in a bucket of cold water. A simple mention of their teacher's name brought back many painful memories.
After Dumbledore left the school, Minerva refused to accept it. Even though deep inside she knew the harsh reality.
The professor was gone. He abandoned her. Didn't even have the decency to say goodbye.
It angered the witch that the teacher treated her like just another student. Like there was nothing more between them than a purely academic relationship. But then, maybe they were, at least on his part. She started questioning if their interactions had even been genuine. Every day, she felt more helpless, even more miserable.
Maybe if she'd told him how much she didn't want him to go, everything would be different?
Some time passed before Minerva registered the context in which the Transfiguration Professor had been brought upon. She walked to the front of the class before answering, just to have more time to compose herself.
"What exactly did the professor tell you?" she asked despite a bitter taste in her mouth.
"According to Professor Dumbledore, the speed of the incantation is insignificant. We should rather focus on slow flicks."
You can speak in your usual voice, Minerva. Hand movement is all that truly matters. See? Just like that.
It took her a moment to erase from her head the warm smile under the auburn moustache. And another while to answer the student's question with a stone face.
"Both ways are correct. I find mine easier to execute properly. Use whichever method you prefer, but learn to do it well."
Theo mumbled something inaudible under his breath as he sat back in his school bench.
Minerva ignored him. She could bet he wouldn't listen to her advice no matter what she told him. She could only hope that he did this out of respect for Professor Dumbledore and not to spite her.
The time went by, and the group didn't even get to the second practical assignment before it ran out.
"We need to finish for today, and we still have some material left to cover," said Minerva, raising her voice over the commotion. "So, please take everything with you and practice the switching spells before our next meeting. Thanks for your attention and see you in a week."
On their way out, the students approached Minerva to pay for the tutorial. The girl overheard Cormac telling his friend that today's lesson was garbage and he was considering dropping off. At least some good news to end the day.
"Here you go," said Augusta, giving Minerva the exact amount. "I'll wait outside."
"Sure, just give me a moment."
Next was Hagrid. He gave back the wand he borrowed, and then took two Sickles out of his pocket.
"No, you paid me last time, remember?" stated Minerva, a little startled. "This one's free."
"C'mon, jus' take it!" The witch put her hands behind her back as a sign of protest, so the young wizard placed the money on the desk. "Yeh earned 'em fair an' square."
She was unable to voice further objections without starting a public argument. Resigned but grateful nonetheless, the girl took the coins and said a quiet thank you.
Two people later, Minerva was more than ready to run and join Augusta when someone asked her a question.
"Could you tell me when we are doing snail-to-teacup?"
The witch looked up. This was one of the new students. A Slytherin or a Ravenclaw, she wasn't sure.
"We are following the Ministry list of topics," said Minerva, slinging her bag around her shoulder. "You can check which position this is, I don't have it memorized."
It should be clear that this was not the right time to start a discussion. Unfortunately for Minerva, the nameless boy thought otherwise.
"You know, my sister is pretty good with inanimate objects, so she taught me a little. Button-to-handkerchief, fork-to-blade, this sort of things. But next month is my aunt and uncle's anniversary and I'd like to surprise them with a gift I made myself."
Then, out of nowhere, without any encouragement, the student was telling Minerva his life story. At first, she paid no attention to whatever he said − waiting for him to make a pause, so that she could end the discussion then and there. But then, from this chaotic overflow of information, the witch picked out that the wizard's uncle was a Transfiguration master. After school, the older wizard had been thinking about working in science but ultimately chose industry instead.
"How does your uncle like it in a clothing company?" asked the Head Girl, curious about careers of other transfiguration experts.
"Oh, he's very good at what he's doing. He enjoys experimenting with new threads. My aunt sometimes says that he's more into fashion than she is. I don't think it bothers him much."
It was good to talk to someone about possible career paths, she enjoyed it, but the timing couldn't be worse. Minerva started to fidget impatiently. She was in a hurry but didn't know how to get rid of this student. Waiting for a pause to politely finish the conversation was not working. After several failed attempts, she cut the boy off.
"Nice talking to you. We'll continue another time."
Unwilling to waste any more time, Minerva gestured the student out and left the classroom right after. She found herself in the unused corridor on the second floor. The only suitable place for tutoring sessions that came to the her mind. On the right, behind one of the many doors, there was Minerva's old Animagus classroom. She couldn't help but glance in its direction.
Having noticed that Augusta left without her, the girl ran to the top of the Gryffindor Tower. She stormed through the portrait hole, shouting the password without stopping.
The Gryffindor common room was full of people, and yet nobody spoke a word. Minerva heard nothing but her rapid breaths and the speaker's voice from the wizarding wireless. Every day at the same hour, the students gathered around a batteryless receiver and listened to a radio transmission. The Wizarding News Station provided them with information broadcast about the front lines.
"−and John Barrow. This ends the list of today's casualties. Now, we list the missing in action that were found dead: Brian Greene, Norman Ramsey, Clive Ward, Anthony Leggett…"
There were several loud gasps. The boy sitting opposite Augusta went pale white, his jaw agape, and a third-year girl covered her mouth with her hands. The dead mentioned by the speaker had foreign sounding last names, which meant that they were probably not a close family of the students. Minerva suspected distant relatives or maybe even friends.
"−in the Muggle front. From early morning hours, the enemy forces are stationed at the Hungarian theatre. Their objectives as well as final destination remains unknown. This is where we end today's transmission. Please stay tuned."
The moment the wireless went silent, loud cries filled the room. At the flick of a wand, the atmosphere became heavy and uncomfortable. Most people sat there, not knowing what to do with themselves. Friends tried to comfort the grieving. Minerva observed the whole scene feeling sorry for the heartbroken Gryffindors. Owls often got intercepted or killed before they reached their addressee. Many children learned about their lost relatives through the wireless or newspapers. Hearing their sobs reminded the Head Girl of her own loss. She dug her fingers into her palm in an attempt not to break down.
"I missed the beginning. Was there anything important?" Minerva asked Augusta, who spotted her in the crown. The girl silently shook her head.
Minerva let out the breath she didn't know she was holding. Another day without grave news was all that she could ask for.
"Good."
Then, with no prior warning, she turned back and left.
She stormed into her dormitory room, shut the door behind her, and locked it with a key. Having no more strength left, the girl leaned against the frame, supporting most of her weight on her back instead of her legs. Relieved to finally be alone, the witch put her hands to her face. What she meant to be a deep breath came out was a shuddering sob. Her entire body shook as she let out a series of convulsive gasps.
She couldn't do this anymore. The tension she lived in every day was unbearable. All the unspoken emotions began to eat her from the inside. Holding her composure in front of other people was slowly becoming an unrealistic dream. She wanted out when there was nowhere else to go. For the first time, being scared and worried for others came to the background. She felt sorry for herself for how much burden she'd been bearing. Minerva's tears ran down her cheeks.
She fleetingly remembered her resolve not to run and hide when being sad. Yet, there she was − crying her eyes out in an empty room, desperate not to make a sound.
Afraid to stay too close to the door, she moved further into the bedroom. As she sat on the edge of her bed, Minerva's eyes landed on the newest edition of the Daily Prophet. During breakfast, she glanced through the issue making sure that no article mentioned the deaths of her friends. She threw the borrowed magazine onto Augusta's bed. Underneath, she spotted a beaten-up envelope. Minerva's heart pounded in dread. In haste, she threw it to the bottom of her drawer to join the rest of similar letters. All of which were returned to the sender.
She forced herself to look up at Hermes, who was sitting on his perch, sleeping and hooting soothingly. Parts of his feathers were missing. The owl had a hand-made dressing on one leg and looked shaken in general.
Struck with another wave of guilt, the witch walked straight to him and woke him up by putting her hands around him delicately. She'd hate to cause him more harm than she'd already done.
"I'm so sorry, Hermes," she said through tears, delicately placing her forehead against his torso. "I'm really, truly, incredibly sorry. Please forgive me, my little puddle of feathers…"
In response, Hermes just waited patiently for his owner to release him. When she finally did, he went back to sleep, still exhausted after his last delivery. Minerva let him rest, as she reminded herself of the blame she bore.
Desperate to make at least one letter reach its destination, she sent the last one with her own owl. Almost against her will, surely despite her better judgment. It took him two weeks and several wounds to return. Her first reaction, Minerva remembered, was utter disappointment that he came back with her letter still dangling from his foot. This soon was pushed away by shock and worry. After she had the chance to examine her owl, the girl was horrified with the state he was in. Cuts to the skin, missing feathers, clots of blood on his wings. He was covered in wounds, suffering a long way from home because his caretaker couldn't think straight. Her reasoning was clouded by hope and fear. She'd sent many owls before, and they all returned with nothing. Why did she think that Hermes would be able to make it? Was it only because she wanted to use every possible means of contact?
After the incident, Minerva had given up. Wherever Dumbledore was, it was obviously somewhere dangerous and impossible to reach. She could only hope that he was alive and well.
Luckily, she had no more time to think about this at the moment. The dance lessons were starting soon. Like every other seventh year, the witch took the extra classes to get ready for the big event that was the graduation ball. She had to go out and put up a smile, but first something had to be done with her red face. The witch opened the window, took the cold air into her lungs and enjoyed the frost on her cheeks. A glance into the mirror and some visual adjustments later, she unlocked the door.
She had to be back in the common room before Augusta missed her.