Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. It would have included many more viewpoints from other characters if I did.
Minerva McGonagall sat in her office. She was taking a well-deserved break from overseeing and marking transfiguration exams, with a cup of tea and a plate of ginger newts arrayed on the desk in front of her. As she took a sip of her tea, she found her thoughts turning to the events of the year as a whole.
This year, as the last two before it, had not gone entirely smoothly. With the escape of Sirius Black and the stationing of dementors round the school, the castle's inhabitants had certainly gone through several turbulent times. On the whole this year was perhaps not quite as bad as last year, Minerva supposed. Though there wasn't much that could top a basilisk roaming the corridors. Still, Black had got terrifyingly close to Mr Potter once already, and there was no sign that he would be captured any time soon. A knock on the door interrupted Minerva's mental downward spiral before her thoughts became too bleak.
"Come in," she said, reassuming her stern mask.
The door opened, revealing an unsettled Remus Lupin. Minerva looked at him with interest.
"Ah, Remus. Please, sit. Have a biscuit," she instructed.
Gladly doing as she said, Remus swallowed a bite before saying "Minerva, I've come to speak to you about Hermione Granger."
Minerva suddenly became alert.
"Miss Granger? Is it the time-turner? I told her to come and speak to me if her schedule was becoming too much for her. What's happened?"
"Nothing time-related as far as I can tell. Though it could be the stress she's under perhaps," Remus replied thoughtfully, "you see, I've just finished with the third years' exams. I told you what I was doing for their exam?"
"Yes, an obstacle course I believe you said, with a variety of creatures to overcome or avoid. Was she injured?"
"No, no," Remus hurried to reassure her, "it's just, well she had a rather strange reaction to her boggart..."
"Well," Minerva prompted, "what happened with Miss Granger's boggart?"
"Well, she came out of the trunk in which I'd stored it crying, apparently having failed to deal with it. Not too surprising, many people struggle with facing their fears. What was strange, or perhaps I should say concerning, is what form she claimed her boggart took..."
Minerva was becoming slightly impatient now. She was concerned about what could have happened to Miss Granger to prompt Remus to come and tell her about it, but Remus seemed oddly reluctant to get to the point and actually tell her.
"Remus, I'm sure your concern is well-placed, and if I can do anything to help Miss Granger in this matter, then of course I will, but how do you expect me to do anything if you don't tell me what happened?"
Remus shifted awkwardly, looking away and flushing in embarrassment.
"Of course, you're right Minerva, it's just, well..." he trailed off again.
After a pause, during which Minerva stared at him impatiently, he continued resignedly, "apparently Hermione's boggart was you telling her off for failing everything. I just thought maybe you should talk to her about it, she seemed very distressed."
Minerva now understood Remus's reticence. For any decent person, knowing that you were someone's boggart was horrifying. To be someone's greatest fear was something that only the most despicable of people would possibly want. Even Severus hadn't been pleased when news of Longbottom's boggart spread, though that could have been because of the rather humiliating way in which Longbottom had dealt with it. Minerva was shocked. She was strict certainly, but she'd always thought that it was clear to her students that she would always try to support them, even when they did do something catastrophically irresponsible or somehow failed everything. This was deeply troubling.
"Thank you Remus," she said, attempting her usual brisk manner, "I will speak to Miss Granger about this later."
"I'm sure it's just the stress, nothing personal, I just thought you should know, and maybe talk to her about dropping a class," Remus said, managing to regain his typical calm, reassuring manner.
"Yes, I'm sure you're right Remus, and I'm glad you brought this to my attention," Minerva forced a thin-lipped smile, "now finish your biscuit and head to dinner. You're not looking well."
Following the deeply ingrained instinct of a former student, Remus replied "yes professor," then gulped down the newt and left quickly.
A genuine smile of fond amusement flickered on Minerva's face before the situation at hand returned to mind and immediately snuffed the pleasant emotion. She would have to talk to Miss Granger after dinner. Yes, she could apologise for putting so much pressure on her and remind her that she could always talk to her as her head of house. Minerva hoped that would be enough, she had some serious introspection to do before then.
Hermione was upset. She had failed the last challenge in her defense exam earlier in the day. Normally this alone would be enough to upset her. She prided herself on always passing exams with flying colours, and she did know how to deal with a boggart after all. This time however, that wasn't what was weighing most on her mind.
What she'd seen in that trunk had seriously rattled her. Professor McGonagall had been so disappointed. She felt her throat tighten at the memory and blinked rapidly, looking down at her almost untouched plate of food.
"I was wrong about you Miss Granger," boggart McGonagall had said, looking down at Hermione with a sneer, "I thought you were like me, but now I see the truth."
Hermione remembered how she'd stared up in shock, unable to think.
"Nothing to say?" the boggart challenged, "no apology for deceiving me, for wasting my time? You think I would have given you any of my attention and gone to the effort of getting you that time-turner if I knew you would just fail everything?"
"W... What? I," Hermione stammered out in a quivering voice.
"You failed," the boggart repeated harshly, "in fact, you've failed so badly that I think you should just go back home. You're not much of a witch in any case."
In twisted irony, Hermione had dropped her wand at that point. Her hands were shaking and she could no longer hold back her tears. Maybe the boggart was right. She remembered the time in first year on the way to save the stone, when she'd forgotten about magic completely and panicked.
"Are you a witch or not!" Ron had shouted.
But she couldn't bear to go back home and leave Hogwarts. She couldn't go back to being the outcast know-it-all with no friends who had to be a straight-A student just to earn some approval. And what if she couldn't be that student anymore? What if she was just average now? Worse, a failure? Someone who no one would notice except to make fun of her?
Hermione shook her head furiously, ignoring the strange looks she received. She knew she shouldn't wallow in these negative emotions. It had just been a boggart. But what did it mean that that was her boggart? Everyone else had sensible fears. Many people were scared of spiders. Harry's fear of dementors made perfect sense. Even Neville's boggart was understandable, if rather problematic. She remembered Ron joking, after the lesson with the boggart, that hers would be some homework marked nine out of ten. She remembered he and Harry laughing at her when she'd told them what it really was. What was wrong with her?
"Are you alright Hermione?" Harry asked, finally noticing her strange behaviour.
"What? Yes, of course," she replied with brittle false cheerfulness, "why wouldn't I be?"
Ron looked at her now, "well, you haven't eaten much," he pointed out, "are you sure you're alright? I'm sure you still got a really good mark for defense you know, and you've definitely beaten us in everything else. Did you see my transfiguration practical?"
"Yeah," Harry added "And what about my cheering charm? Ron had to go and calm down for half an hour before he could try casting it himself."
Hermione laughed a little. Trust them to try to make her feel better with a joke like that. Her friends might be totally oblivious most of the time, but they were her friends.
"Miss Granger, could I have a word?"
Hermione jumped. That voice. She hadn't expected to hear it again so soon. She hadn't wanted to hear it. Slowly, she turned round, keeping her eyes lowered. She knew who would be standing there, but she couldn't stand to look at her. Not now.
"Yes professor," she responded automatically, "umm, now?"
"If you don't mind."
"No, of course not," Hermione squeaked.
She stood hastily, flushing and avoiding looking at anyone. McGonagall nodded and strode out of the hall, clearly expecting Hermione to follow. They walked in silence to the professor's office. Once there, McGonagall ushered Hermione into a seat and closed the door firmly behind them. Fighting down the urge to run, Hermione finally looked up at her head of house.
What she saw surprised her. McGonagall's normally stern demeanor seemed to have softened somewhat. The surprise at seeing this meant that it took a few seconds for her exact expression to fully register. She seemed... Sad.
"Um, so, what did you want to talk to me about professor?"
"Something has come to my attention that I think we should discuss," the older witch began, seemingly more hesitant than usual.
Hermione paled and gulped. What if she really had failed? Maybe that expression was really disappointment. No, she thought. She knew she'd done well in all her other practical exams at least. So then... Realisation dawned and she immediately returned her gaze to the desk.
Minerva was unusually agitated. This kind of conversation didn't come naturally to her. She was much better at being strict and formal, or being angry. Still, she had to do this. Her short period of self-reflection had opened her eyes to just how badly she had failed as a head of house. Now she had to try to put things right, no matter how difficult it was for her.
"Have a biscuit, Miss Granger," Minerva said, wondering if anyone in this school ate properly.
The unexpectedness of the question shook the young witch out of her embarrassment. She hesitantly took one from the tin Minerva proffered, and stared at her with a confused but calculating expression. Minerva smiled inwardly at successfully disrupting her student's expectations. She gazed patiently at her until she finished the ginger newt.
"You're not in any trouble Miss Granger. I just want to talk to you about what happened in your defense against the dark arts practical earlier today."
Minerva held back a sigh as Miss Granger once again looked down and refused to speak. After a pause she decided she would have to do all the talking.
"It's normal to struggle with boggarts. Many people far older than you have been unable to face them. It's really nothing to be ashamed of."
"No one else-"
"No one else was facing their boggart for the first time. I seem to recall hearing that the rest of the class had an opportunity to do so in your first defense lesson. Regardless, it is still nothing to be ashamed of. I suspect none of your classmates had to face a fear as subtle and insidious as yours. It is easy to make things like spiders seem amusing. More psychological fears are much harder to deal with."
Minerva waited a moment, studying Hermione's face. She seemed to have taken this at least somewhat to heart, and looked slightly relieved. Now for the truly challenging part of the conversation.
"Actually the form of your boggart was what I wanted to talk about," Minerva explained gently. After receiving no response other than a blush, she continued, "I have known many students as driven as you. Some just want to know as much as possible. Others have high ambitions and believe that good grades are the way to achieve them. What is your motivation, Miss Granger?"
"I really like learning," Hermione answered uncertainly.
"I'm sure you do," Minerva agreed, "but I think something else drives you. Why so much work and stress to achieve perfect grades? You could dedicate time to learning without being concerned for your academic achievements."
"Academic achievement is all I have," the teenager admitted softly, blinking furiously.
Minerva inhaled sharply. She felt as though she had just been punched in the gut. She'd suspected that Hermione might feel that way. But hearing her say it as she looked like she was about to cry was heartbreaking. No one should ever think that about themselves, but especially not someone as special as Hermione. Minerva reached out a hand across the desk and placed it gently on her student's arm.
"You can't really believe that. No one believes that. Do you think Mr Potter and Mr Weasley are friends with you so they can copy your homework?"
Hermione sniffled and smiled weakly, "I would never let them copy my homework," she protested.
"Of course not," Minerva nodded, "you have a very good moral compass and you're brave enough to stick to it. Even when it means you have to do something which makes your friends unhappy with you. I was very proud of you for telling me about Mr Potter's firebolt. You knew he wouldn't like it, but you also knew it was the right thing to do and the safest thing for him."
Minerva and Hermione exchanged smiles.
"You remind me of myself you know," Minerva confided, "I was almost sorted into Ravenclaw as I also love learning, but the hat decided that my need to try to do the right thing no matter the consequences was my most important trait."
The brown-haired witch shook her head sadly.
"I'm not like you," she disagreed, "you don't make mistakes."
Minerva laughed. Even before her eyes had been opened to how wrongly she'd handled things the last few years she wouldn't have believed that. Now, well, if one of them had to be a failure then it was certainly her.
"You really think that? What about all the mistakes I've made in the last few years alone? You think me giving you detention with Hagrid in your first year without even checking what he planned to do wasn't a mistake? I assure you, if I had known what he was planning I certainly would not have allowed it. And the time you told me of your concerns about the philosopher's stone and I scolded you and did nothing? Was that not a mistake? Then, this year, I allow you to take on a massive workload and simply give you a time-turner and wave you on your way without once checking in on you to make sure you were handling everything. I tell you, I very much so consider that to be a mistake. And if you think so much of my intelligence, then you cannot argue with me on this."
"I. You. That's. It wasn't," Hermione sputtered, clearly unable to dispute her professor's self-depricating tirade.
Minerva sighed. In a softer tone she said, "no one is perfect Hermione. Certainly not me. All that matters is that you're happy with the way you are, and if you're not, then you can always try to be better. But you should try for yourself, not for anyone else. I'm sure you're parents and friends will be proud of you even if you don't have perfect grades. If they're not, then that's their problem and their loss."
Minerva noted the flinch and widening of the eyes that had been Hermione's reaction to the mention of her parents. She frowned. She'd met the Grangers when she'd gone to deliver Hermione's Hogwarts letter and tell her about the wizarding world. Her parents had clearly been very worried, but proud of their witch daughter.
"Hermione, have your parents ever told you that you have to be a perfect student?" Minerva probed carefully.
"Well, no," Hermione admitted after a short pause, "I suppose... Well it's just that they're always so busy. They're both dentists you see, like muggle healers who specialise in teeth. They don't usually have much time for me. But whenever I bring home a test with a good mark, or a good report, they'd always make time to celebrate with me. Sometimes we'd even go on holidays together if I did particularly well... I wouldn't want them to be disappointed. They're both very clever people. I think they like that I'm like them. But they're already worried about me being here after last year, so I have to prove that staying here and learning magic is worth it."
Minerva winced. She really should have taken the time to speak to the parents of the muggle-born students who had been petrified. It was a miracle that they had all returned to the school at all. The rest of what Hermione had said was quite illuminating. Minerva was sure that the Grangers didn't intend to put this pressure on their daughter. At least she hoped not. But it made sense that a child would see things that way. She made a mental note to speak to them as soon as possible.
"I'm sure your parents love you very much and wouldn't stop even if failed absolutely every test, (which, by the way, you most certainly have not), and if they did then they aren't even half as clever as you are," Minerva asserted fiercely.
Hermione smiled more genuinely this time, the anxiety and shame leaving her eyes. She put a hand on Minerva's and met her gaze seriously.
"Thank you professor. That means a lot, and I really feel much better now," she said sincerely, "but as my professor and head of house, you should really lead by example. If I can accept my failures and move past them, then so should you. I'm sure Harry and Ron would agree with me if they were here, but I don't blame you for any of those things you mentioned."
Minerva smiled warmly. She supposed she should at that, though there was one other person she had to confess and apologise to first.
"You are truly brilliant," Minerva murmured, taking Hermione's hand in both her own and squeezing it.
They both sat in a comfortable silence for a moment. Then Minerva heard the young Gryffindor's stomach rumble. She remembered that the girl hadn't eaten much at dinner. Between her and Remus Minerva felt as though she was turning into Poppy.
"Now, why don't I get you some food?"
Hermione stepped through the portrait hole into the common room. It was somewhat late in the evening and there was a slow trickle of people heading upstairs to bed. Harry and Ron were waiting for her as she'd expected. They smiled and waved her over and she happily sat down next to them.
"So, what did McGonagall want you for?" Ron immediately asked, "did she want to tell you that you scored over 100% on your transfiguration exam or something?"
She laughed, flashing back to herself in first year boasting about getting 112% on her charms exam.
"No, not that," she hesitated slightly before continuing, "she wanted to talk to me about my boggart."
The boys' faces instantly turned serious. They looked at her assessingly, as if trying to work out if anything was wrong with her.
"I'm fine," she responded to their unvoiced concerns, "actually, I'm better than fine. I feel better than I have for a long time. And I'm dropping muggle studies next year."
"What?" Ron asked in shock, "she must have said something pretty amazing to get you to drop a class."
"Yeah," Harry added, "are you sure you're feeling alright?"
"Yes, brilliant actually. And yes, she did Ron, though probably not what you're thinking."
"So what did she say?" the boys chorused eagerly.
"We just had a talk about things," Hermione answered evasively, then, blushing she confided, "she said I'm like her."
"Well yeah, you're both brilliant and bloody scary. I could have told you that."
Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn't stop herself from grinning.
"I'm really glad things worked out well for you Hermione," Harry said earnestly, giving her a look of understanding.
"Yeah me too," Ron agreed.
"Thanks," Hermione beamed, "me too."
The next day at breakfast, McGonagall asked to speak to Harry. He noticed a quick exchange of smiles between her and Hermione, reminding him of what Hermione had said last night. Her talk with the professor had seemed to really help. He remembered her pleased tone when she'd told them about what McGonagall had said. He was intrigued.
Harry sat down in McGonagall's office, gazing at her curiously. She had a strangely determined air about her. The sort of look he imagined he had when he was about to do something very difficult and dangerous, but also very necessary.
"Have a biscuit, Potter."
Harry stared at her in incomprehension. She lifted the tarton-covered tin on her desk and waved it at him impatiently.
"Err I've just had breakfast, professor."
"You could do with eating some more," she pointed out, looking him up and down, "you're practically skin and bone."
Harry's cheeks reddened slightly, but he couldn't disagree. He took a biscuit from the tin; idly noticing that it was in the shape of a newt. At another look from McGonagall, he bit into it quickly.
"Now, Potter, I suppose you're wondering why I asked to speak to you."
Swallowing hastily, Harry replied "err yeah, I am."
"Well, how much did Miss Granger tell you about our conversation last night?"
"Not much really. She just said you talked a bit. She seemed very happy though and she said she was dropping muggle studies."
McGonagall smiled at this.
"Good, good. Well suffice to say Potter that I thought over quite a lot of things yesterday, and it occurred to me that I really owe you an apology."
Harry felt his eyebrows shoot up beneath his fringe. A teacher? Apologising to him? What could she possibly be apologising for?
Apparently seeing his confusion she continued, "I was there when you were left at your relatives. I watched them all day and saw how horrible they all were, and I still let the headmaster leave you there... I'm sorry... Harry."
Harry gaped at her for several seconds. He was too shocked to speak. He'd never known much about how he'd come to be with the Dursleys, other than that he'd been left on their doorstep. He supposed it made sense that it was Dumbledore who had left him there.
"I tried arguing with him. I told them what they were like. But I should have done more. I'm sorry."
The clear guilt in his professor's voice and face made Harry pull himself back together. He couldn't let her think this was her fault. In fact he was grateful that she'd argued with Dumbledore on his behalf at all. She hadn't even known him then.
"Professor, you don't need to apologise to me. You didn't leave me there. You even argued with Professor Dumbledore about it. Anyway, if I hadn't lived there, I might have been killed by Quirrel two years ago. They're not that bad really."
Harry was being rather generous with that last bit, but he didn't want to make her feel bad, and it wasn't like the headmaster would let him leave anyway. McGonagall looked Harry up and down once more, clearly skeptical.
"You wouldn't even have needed protection from Quirrel if I'd only listened to you about the stone."
"Well you had no reason to believe us. Anyway, I'm bound to need this protection at some point. Trouble always finds me."
"I wish you wouldn't be so flippant about you're own life," McGonagall said, sounding pained.
"Sorry professor," he said sheepishly.
"and as for them not being so bad... Just promise me that if things get bad, like I know they must have done this past summer, that you'll write to me. I give you my word that I won't fail you again."
Harry felt a surge of emotion rush through him. It was hard to tell what it was exactly. Relief, happiness, an almost painful sympathy for McGonagall, and a strange feeling of safety and trust that so far he'd only really felt around Ron and Hermione.
"Thank you professor. I really appreciate it," Harry gratefully agreed, "but professor, you definitely haven't failed anyone."
A/N: I hope you liked this oneshot. I've been thinking about Hermione's boggart and her reaction to it for a while, as well as her character in general, and I'm a big fan of mentor McGonagall fics, so I decided I should have a go at writing this. If you enjoyed it and also like mentor McGonagall fics, check out The Sky Is The Limit by CrypticSpren. She and I are working together on it and we're pretty happy with what we've got so far. It's our idea of what could have happened if Ron, Fred and George hadn't been able to rescue Harry from the Dursleys in the summer before second year. He doesn't turn up at Hogwarts and McGonagall goes looking for him. Hope to see you there.
Journey Before Destination