Animato Animagus

Tuesday, 25 May 1943

"Complex Conjuration requires intense focus," Minerva explained. She stood in front of a table of seventh-years who'd come to her Transfiguration Club as the pressure of their impending N.E.W.T.s threatened to crush them. "You all have your Apparition License, yes?" When they nodded, she continued, "Think of it the way you'd think of Apparating. If you don't have the proper concentration, if you're not visualizing exactly where you want to go, you may still get there, but not intact. You might get Splinched. It's the same with Complex Conjuration. You may conjure something, something that even resembles what you intended to conjure, but if you aren't focusing enough, it won't look quite right."

The seventh-years nodded around at each other. Minerva turned to Audrey Lee, one of the Chasers for Hufflepuff, and suggested, "Why don't you try the chair again, Audrey? I want to see the leather and wood, with rivets." She tapped the book in front of Audrey, which held images of various objects such as furniture and tools, and was used as a companion to studying Complex Conjuration.

Audrey took a deep breath, staring at the image for a moment. She closed her eyes, and Minerva imagined she was practicing holding the image of the chair in her mind. She then nodded to herself, almost imperceptibly, raised her wand, and waved it sharply and precisely in the direction of the empty space beside Minerva. Minerva smiled at the chair that appeared and, raising her eyebrows at a grinning Audrey, gingerly took a seat. Lucille Anderson, the Hufflepuff Keeper and Captain and Audrey's best friend, laughed as Audrey threw her arms in the air in triumph and relief.

Minerva ran her hands along the chair, examining the way it felt. "Very well done, Audrey. The texture of the leather could be improved upon, but I expect that comes from not having given any particular thought to the way leather feels before."

Audrey gave her a sheepish look, shrugging, "I suppose that's true. I don't spend a great deal of time thinking about the way materials look and feel." Her brow furrowed suddenly with anxiety, "Do you think that will impact my exam?"

Minerva grimaced, "I'm not sure. I would ask Dumbledore."

"She hasn't taken her NEWTs yet either, you know," Lucille reminded her with an amused smile.

Audrey flushed, shooting her friend a pointed look, "I know that, but she already knows the seventh-year material, so I think I can be forgiven for thinking she might know."

Minerva stayed with the seventh-years to help them with Conjuration for a little longer before moving on to other parts of the room. She helped the first years with their match-to-needle Transfiguration and the third years with the teapot-to-tortoise spell before her time with them was up. Before she dismissed them, she confirmed that she would be holding a meeting on Thursday as usual, and then sent them on their way.

As usual, she had a few people lingering back to talk to her as most of the students collected their belongings and filed out. Fifth-year Ravenclaw Gemma Stevens approached her first, "We've just gotten our schedule for our OWLs, and we noticed Transfiguration is scheduled for Tuesday. We were wondering if you would host one last study session before then, maybe even just for fifth-years, since the regular Tuesday meeting time would be too late."

Minerva raised her eyebrows, "I would be happy to. Let me just speak to Dumbledore about reserving the room, and I will update you as soon as I can. It's in two weeks, correct?"

Gemma nodded, "Thank you so much!"

"Are you all together?" Minerva asked, gesturing to the small group of fifth-years behind her. They smiled nervously, nodding. She bid them all a good day as they left together.

That only left Audrey, who had been lingering behind the fifth-years. Minerva smiled at Audrey as she approached. The Hufflepuff spoke before Minerva had the chance to greet her, "I wanted to thank you, is all. The way you explained Conjuration helped me understand it so much better."

A feeling of warmth filled Minerva's chest at that, "Thank you for saying so, I'm glad. I'm happy to help."

"I'm sure you've thought about pursuing something like this as a career," Audrey said leadingly.

"Oh yes," Minerva agreed. "My dream, actually, is to teach Transfiguration here at Hogwarts."

Audrey raised her eyebrows, "Does Dumbledore know that?"

Minerva laughed, "Yes, I wasn't shy in my career meeting last year."

Audrey gave her a small, slightly awkward smile, her brow furrowed lightly. "I only ask because, well, I was under the impression he's been testing the seventh-years for an apprentice." Minerva's face fell, her blood running cold. "Whenever someone masters the spell set for the day, he has them start marking for him. Maybe he's just looking for help lightening his load, but…" Audrey shrugged, "I thought it was more than that."

Minerva felt like she was listening to Audrey from a distance, her mind whirring as panic set into her heart. Rolanda had warned her of precisely this possibility. She was barely conscious of herself saying, "Thank you, Audrey," before she was walking out the door. Minerva walked at a normal pace, her mind sluggish in her shock that Dumbledore might seriously consider taking on an apprentice who wasn't her, might consider making a choice that would most likely mean he wouldn't have time for her when she graduated. It hadn't seemed like a real possibility to her before, but now… Minerva felt like she might be sick. She picked up her pace, walking faster now through the corridors. When she reached the stairs, she practically ran down them, her robes bunched in her left fist and her right hand clutching the banister. She jumped onto another set of moving stairs just as they were pulling away from a platform, inspiring a whistle from she-didn't-know-who, ran down them, and jumped off before they were firmly in place.

By the time Minerva reached the door to Dumbledore's office, her heart felt like it was about to burst out of her chest. She knocked quickly and loudly, wanting to be sure she was heard. Minerva waited, bouncing on the balls of her feet with her anxiety growing in her chest, as seconds ticked by that felt like minutes. She had to resist the urge to knock again, and made herself take a calming breath and count to sixty in her head. When she'd received no response at the end of those sixty seconds, she raised her fist, hesitated just a second more, and knocked again. "Professor Dumbledore?" she called. Minerva pulled at the pendant around her neck anxiously as she received no response. She looked around helplessly, unsure of what to do. She was desperate to talk to Dumbledore, but if he wasn't here…

Minerva took another calming breath. He could be at dinner. The Great Hall would have just opened its doors. Perhaps he'd gone as soon as he could. Nodding to herself, Minerva walked quickly away, through the corridors and down the grand staircase. Her heart sunk, though, when her eyes found the seat on Dippet's right-hand side empty. Minerva paused in the doorway to the Great Hall, part of her eager to go looking for Dumbledore and part of her – the more rational part – arguing that she wouldn't know where to find him. Disappointed, Minerva resigned herself to joining her housemates at the Gryffindor table, though she had little appetite.

After making her decision, she regretted it, because she realized as soon as she sat down that she would be trapped there until dinner was over. The new policy put in place over the Easter holiday where students would be escorted to their houses directly after dinner was still in place. She could've arrived later after searching for Dumbledore a little longer, but now, she had to sit in the Great Hall, her stomach in knots while her housemates joked and laughed boisterously around her. Sitting between Oliver and Clarisse, surrounded on one side by members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and her dormmates on the other, she was in the center of their tried relaxing and participating, but her smiles were weak and her focus limited. Whenever she'd try to focus on what someone was saying, her eyes would inevitably drift behind them to either the doors to the Great Hall or to the Head Table. Dumbledore did not appear throughout the entire meal, to her dismay, and Professor Marsh came to lead the Gryffindors to their tower at the end of the meal in his stead.

Minerva started growing anxious for another reason as she stood with her housemates to follow Marsh to Gryffindor Tower. She'd noticed that Madam Jenison was also absent the entirety of the meal, and she knew that both of them were active members of the Resistance. She hoped they were alright. Her fingers reached up and brushed against the pendant hanging around her neck, and she considered contacting her family. Ultimately, though, she decided against it, not wanting to seem as though she was hyper-aware of her favorite professor's comings and goings.

The Gryffindors dispersed once they reached their tower. It had been a difficult adjustment, having a new curfew enforced for a time when most of them were not yet ready to be in bed. When everyone tried to work on schoolwork and play games like Exploding Snap or Gobstones at once, the common room tended to feel a little cramped. Some students realized they were better off going up to their dorms, either to play games where they wouldn't disturb others or study within the privacy of their curtained four-posters.

The students who typically stayed in the common room after dinner had their own territories, and so Minerva started walking over to the one she and her friends usually claimed. Oliver, though, seemed to have other ideas, and he conveyed that by stopping her and wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, murmuring into her ear, "I was thinking about heading straight upstairs. What do you think?"

Ever since Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup on Saturday, their relationship had been on a high, physically. In their euphoria over their victory, they couldn't seem to get enough of each other. It had been fun, certainly, but after about three days of mostly snogging and shagging with very little conversation, Minerva was tired. She was also still anxious to talk to Dumbledore, although that clearly was not happening tonight, to her dismay.

"I'm a little distracted tonight," she replied, extricating herself from his embrace.

Oliver turned her around to look at her face, and she permitted him to do this, placing her arms on his chest. He kissed her forehead, and when he pulled away, he said, "I noticed. But perhaps you need a distraction from whatever has you so distracted?" There was a playful lilt to his tone, a sparkle in his brown eyes, and a roguish smile on his face that would've melted her heart on a normal day. Today, though, the playfulness in his expression sent a pang through her heart. Don't you want to know what's on my mind? Or do you simply want to shag me? she thought bitterly to herself.

"I have a lot on my mind, Oliver, I'm not in the mood," she replied, drawing away.

Oliver sighed and let his hands drop from her waist. They stared at each other for a moment, Minerva feeling a little sad and Oliver looking a little wary. Minerva searched his expression, wondering what was on his mind that made him look like he was staring at a game of Exploding Snap that had been going on for suspiciously long. Eventually, he asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Minerva blinked at him. His tone surprised her more than his choice of words. It sounded like an afterthought, like a script someone told him to follow though he wasn't sure why. She commented, "You could sound a little more concerned, you know."

For a moment, it looked like Oliver was going to roll his eyes, but he stopped himself. Minerva crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. "Of course I'm concerned," he said. He sighed, and reached up to place a hand on her upper arm. "Minerva, tell me what's on your mind."

You'll think it's stupid, she thought to herself. But she couldn't say that, not after making a big deal about him not being interested. So, she took a deep breath and replied, "You know I want to pursue a Transfiguration Mastery, and that I want to teach at Hogwarts someday. Ideally, I would be Dumbledore's apprentice after I graduate, since he's doing exactly what I want to do. Audrey Lee just told me, though, that she thought Dumbledore was looking for an apprentice among the seventh-years, and…I panicked. I tried to find him, to talk to him, to ask him to wait, but – you know Marsh led us here, so you know he's not in the castle."

Oliver put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. He gave her a small smile and said, "Minerva, it'll be alright. You can talk to him tomorrow."

"Hopefully," she replied. "I simply can't…I can't relax until I've talked to him. I feel like the plan that I've had in my head for myself for the past year – longer, even – is all falling apart and I—" Her voice cracked, and so she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She shook her head abruptly, "And I feel so stupid, because Rolanda warned me that precisely this scenario could happen if I carried on like I expected everything in my plan to fall into place, but it really seemed so unrealistic to me that he wouldn't apprentice me so – so I took him for granted. I feel so stupid."

"Minerva," Oliver said soothingly. "You're not stupid – you might be overreacting a little, but you're certainly not stupid." Minerva started shaking her head at him in disbelief, offended he'd said she was overreacting but not having the energy to fight. He caught her chin between his fingers, making her stop shaking her head and look him in the eyes, "Hey. Take a deep breath. You need to relax."

"Haven't you been paying attention? I can't relax," she snapped, pulling her chin away from him.

"I'm sorry," he said, holding his hands up.

Minerva pursed her lips at him and she stared him down imperiously. The sad, apologetic look in his eyes did make her feel a little guilty for being short with him. Though her nerves were still at a peak, she relaxed her stance and said, "I'm sorry too." He gave her a small smile at that. She took a step closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. She sighed and put her chin on his shoulder, seeking comfort in his embrace. A little bit of her tension finally left her shoulders as they stood together like that. When she finally pulled away, she gave him a quick peck on the lips and said, "I'm tired. I think I'll go to bed early."

"Alright," he replied quietly, releasing her.

Wednesday, 26 May 1943

To Minerva's great relief, Dumbledore made an appearance at breakfast the next morning. She'd had enough time to calm down overnight, though it had taken her a while to do so and get to sleep, and she wasn't in as much of a hurry to speak with him as she'd been the night before. Now, she knew that she wanted to speak with him alone. This wasn't the sort of conversation she wanted to have in front of Dippet and Merrythought, who were seated on either side of him, especially if it didn't go her way. She didn't want to embarrass herself.

So, instead of rushing up to the High Table to talk to Dumbledore as soon as she saw him, Minerva sat down with her housemates, ate her breakfast, and waited for Dumbledore to leave the Great Hall. Oliver didn't say anything to her once he noticed she was focused on monitoring Dumbledore, instead opting to talk to the Gryffindors around them. It was agonizing for Minerva to wait. When Dumbledore finally stood to leave, a sigh of relief escaped her lips and she quickly said goodbye to her friends. She hurried to meet Dumbledore as he walked down the center aisle of the Great Hall, between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

Dumbledore smiled when he saw her waiting for him at the doors to the Great Hall and greeted, "Good morning, Miss McGonagall."

"Good morning, Professor Dumbledore," she returned.

"Are you waiting for me?" he asked.

"Yes, I was hoping to have a private word, if you have time," she replied, her heart pounding in her chest.

He gestured towards the grand staircase, "Then let's go to my office. Shall we?"

Minerva gave him a tense smile as they fell into step beside each other. She wrung her hands nervously, but she held them behind her back as she walked to conceal them. Thankfully, Dumbledore's office was on the first floor, and so they didn't have too long to walk before they reached it. Dumbledore gestured towards one of the armchairs as he moved to lean against his desk, but Minerva chose to stand. He raised his eyebrows at her questioningly.

Minerva took a deep breath and said bluntly, "I want to be your apprentice."

Dumbledore blinked at her in surprise. He stood up straighter, but said nothing.

After an awkward pause, Minerva plowed forward, "I am the best student in Transfiguration at Hogwarts, among even the seventh-years. There is no one who has worked harder nor is more devoted to the subject than me in this school. It is my ambition to be a professor of Transfiguration, and you are the person best positioned to teach me not only what I need to know to achieve a Mastery in Transfiguration, but also how to teach. I understand that you might have too much on your plate at the moment and that you may be feeling pressure to have someone around to help you lighten your load, but I implore you to consider allowing me to help you throughout my seventh-year, and wait to take on an apprentice until I graduate." Minerva took a deep breath once she'd finished speaking. Her heart was pounding, but she was pleased that her argument had come out nearly exactly how she'd planned it in her head.

Dumbledore clasped his hands in front of him and stared at her penetratingly. Minerva wished he'd say something. It was unnerving to have him staring at her like that.

Finally, he said, "Well, McGonagall, I must admit I find myself at a loss for words." This did nothing to calm Minerva's nerves, though she did notice he'd dropped the "Miss" again. "I would be lying if I said I haven't thought much of the same myself." Minerva's heart soared, only to be crushed again as he continued, "But, you are correct that I've been under pressure to find help. External pressure." Minerva swallowed hard. "The Headmaster and Nicolas Flamel have both recommended I take on an apprentice this summer to help with things like marking and teaching lower level classes." He hesitated again. Minerva's heart was in her throat. "I have hesitated to make moves towards this for the very reasons you've just given me."

"I can take the NEWT exam with the seventh-years," she interjected breathlessly. "I'll pass, you know I will, and then—"

"McGonagall," he interjected, his lips quirking with amusement. "That would be highly irregular. And you would still have you other N.E.W.T. classes."

Minerva's hands clenched into fists. She didn't know what to say. She wanted this so badly, and it seemed he wanted it too. She didn't understand why it was even in question, then.

"I will take your propositions into consideration," Dumbledore said, his voice soft and sympathetic. "I will think about them long and hard, and I will think about ways that we could make this work. I do want to continue guiding you on your journey through Transfiguration. I simply cannot make you any promises at this time."

Minerva nodded curtly, feeling a mixture of hope and nausea all at once. "Thank you for your consideration," she managed to say, though her heart felt like it might stop.

Dumbledore gave her a kind smile that did little to ease her anxiety. She had hoped she would leave this conversation feeling better, and while she did in some ways, she felt worse in others.

Feeling awkward, Minerva turned to leave. At the door, though, she paused, realizing she'd almost forgotten about the conversation she'd had before Audrey revealed the information that had sent her into a panic. Minerva turned back to face Dumbledore, squaring her shoulders and trying to comport herself with some professionalism, "Before I forget, I wanted to ask you about scheduling a special session of my Transfiguration Club. Some fifth-years came to me asking me to hold one before their O.W.L. exam on the first Tuesday. I was thinking about that Monday, after classes? Perhaps for two hours instead of one?"

"I will arrange it and update you when it's done," he replied, inclining his head. Minerva gave him a tight smile and nodded before turning and walking away.

Tuesday, 1 June 1943

One week later, Minerva sat at a table in the Gryffindor common room with her friends after dinner, working on an essay for Arithmancy. As she reinked her quill, she pushed her square-framed spectacles up the bridge of her nose. She was extremely focused on the position she was defending about the value of Arithmancy in the field of Potions. It wasn't her particular area of expertise, but she was determined to write a thoughtful essay on it regardless. Consequently, she did not notice when the first gentle rumblings of thunder began in the distance. She had no idea it was even raining outside. She paid no attention to the sound of the rain against the windowpanes of Gryffindor Tower as she flipped through the pages of Advanced Potion Making for support for her second point.

Minerva did notice, though, when a flash of lightning illuminated the window to her left, and a crack of thunder followed shortly after that was so loud that she jumped in her chair. She stared out the window in wide-eyed disbelief at the storm. Her heart pounded with excitement. She couldn't believe it. This was it. This was her chance to attempt the Animagus transformation.

Her friends working at the same table as her had also jumped when the thunder cracked nearby. She grinned around at Oliver, Donnie, Richard, Theodore, and Clarisse – though probably only Oliver understood the significance of the weather to her – and stood up without a word, grabbing her wand and running upstairs. She came down moments later with a little black box that had been safely stowed away for over two months, and practically ran to the portrait hole. Vaguely, she heard Donnie ask, "Where does she think she's going?" But she paid him no mind.

When she reached the door, it opened of its own accord. She grinned again as her eyes landed on Dumbledore, the awkwardness she'd felt for the past week forgotten. He smiled back at her, his eyes twinkling, and gestured for her to come with him. They didn't say anything to each other, but they both moved quickly through the castle. Minerva's stomach was in knots, simultaneously more excited than she'd ever felt in her life and also more nervous than she'd ever been about anything. She alternated between being on the verge of tears and laughing, between feeling like she was going to throw up and as though she could fly without the aid of her broomstick, throughout the entire, agonizingly long journey from the sixth floor to the ground floor.

Eventually, though, they did make it to the Entrance Hall. Dumbledore stopped on the stairs, but directed her to stand in the center of the room. He glanced towards the castle doors as another crack of thunder resounded above them, and smiled at her. Speaking for the first time that evening, he said, "Take a deep breath, McGonagall. Take a few."

Minerva nodded quickly from her place alone in the center of the Entrance Hall. She followed his instructions, inhaling and exhaling deliberately. Each time she was able to hold her breath and then sustain her exhale for a little longer. Her heartrate slowed. Minerva nodded again, feeling much more under control.

"Whenever you're ready, then. The spell first, and then the potion. You know the spell. Amato Animo Animato Animagus," he said softly.

Minerva took one more deep breath, and brought the tip of her wand over her heart. She clutched her little black box in her left hand painfully tight. She said loudly and clearly, "Amato Animo Animato Animagus." The familiar sensation of warmth spread throughout her body, but this time, it felt a little bit like she had an electric shock running through her veins. Shaking slightly, Minerva stowed her wand and opened the black box, revealing what her Animagus Mixture had stewed into for the first time. It was dark green and a bit tar-like, but Minerva didn't allow herself time to think about it or hesitate. She unstopped the phial and threw back the potion in one swift movement, swallowing it down so quickly she barely tasted it. The feeling of electricity running through her body increased, sending tingles down her arms and legs, into her fingers and toes. As it pulsated through her head, she felt like she might sneeze, and closed her eyes instinctively. When the sneeze didn't come, she opened her eyes to find the world growing around her. The banisters of the grand staircase in front of her were growing wider and taller, and the stairs growing higher. Dumbledore, too, looked like he was getting taller right before her eyes. She looked up and saw the ceiling rising above her; she looked down and saw that the floor was much closer, and the flagstones much wider.

She looked up at Dumbledore and found him beaming at her. Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest. She'd done it. She opened her mouth to cry out with joy, and to her amazement, she meowed. Excitedly, experimentally, Minerva meowed again, several times, unable to believe it. Dumbledore walked towards her, waving his wand. He conjured a mirror and knelt down, propping it on the floor so she could examine herself. Minerva trotted over to the mirror excitedly. As she took in the dark grey tabby cat staring back at her, Minerva thought her heart might burst with joy. Her eyes were a familiar green, the same green that they were in her human form, and – she peered closer, and meowed a laugh of delight – she had markings around her eyes in the precise shape of her square spectacles. She made quite a beautiful cat, if she said so herself.

She looked up at Dumbledore and, impulsively, decided to climb up his arm and around his shoulders to test out her agility as a cat. He laughed and carefully stood, tilting his head forward to give her more surface area to stand on. She leaned over his shoulder and brought a paw to her face, rubbing it excitedly and hoping he would understand what she meant. He laughed again, "Yes, I saw, you still have your glasses."

Minerva lowered her paw and meowed happily. She then glanced down at the floor, and leapt from his shoulder. To her delight, she landed lightly and gracefully as any cat would from that height. She stalked around in front of him, trying to look around at herself, in particular, her tail. Minerva was fascinated by her tail, and flicked it experimentally a few times. Dumbledore watched her with a smile on his face for a few minutes before asking, "Are you ready to try transforming back?"

Minerva sat down on her hind legs in front of him, giving him a pointed look that she hoped conveyed that she supposed it would be alright to return to her human form, if only for a moment.

He chuckled, "Focus on your human form, remember what it feels like to be a human, and simply will that person into being."

Minerva meowed that she understood and closed her eyes, focusing on what it felt like to be Minerva McGonagall the human. She willed herself to feel that way again, and with some concentration, she felt herself start to grow again. When she opened her eyes, she found herself back to being only half a foot shorter than Dumbledore. She beamed at him and exclaimed, "I did it!"

"That you did," he laughed. "Congratulations."

On a high from her accomplishment, Minerva reached forward and hugged Dumbledore in celebration. He felt surprisingly hard and thin, and smelled vaguely of chocolate. It took her brain a few seconds to process what she'd done, and the fact that he was not hugging her back. It occurred to her that he might not be allowed to hug her back, and she stepped away at once, a little embarrassed, "I'm sorry, I'm simply so excited—"

"—It's alright, I understand," he interjected, smiling.

"Is it safe to come out?" a voice said from a little to her right and below.

Minerva turned, her eyes widening at the familiar voice, "Rolanda!"

Rolanda emerged from the place on the stairs to the basement and dungeons from where she'd been watching with a proud grin on her face. Minerva's heart warmed and tears prickled at her eyes as she realized that Rolanda had tears on her own face.

"Oh, Rolanda," Minerva murmured, covering her heart with her hand.

Rolanda laughed a little, wiping her eyes. "I'm so bloody proud of you."

Minerva enveloped her best friend in a tight hug, tears slipping freely down her face. From over her shoulder, Rolanda added to Dumbledore, "And I'm not sorry for saying that."

"I must have gone temporarily deaf, for I have no idea what you're talking about," Dumbledore replied lightly. Minerva laughed into Rolanda's shoulder.

Footsteps on the staircase drew Minerva's attention, and she pulled away from Rolanda, wiping her face with her sleeve.

"I'm proud too!" Poppy exclaimed. Minerva grinned up at her, and then blinked in surprise to see Merrythought walking down the stairs more slowly behind her.

Poppy wrapped Minerva in a tight hug. As they hugged, Minerva met Merrythought's eyes over Poppy's shoulder. Merrythought smiled and said, "Congratulations. This is an impressive accomplishment."

Minerva beamed, "Thank you, professor."

Poppy pulled away, and both witches laughed lightly to see the tears in the other's eyes. Minerva exclaimed, "You were right!"

Poppy laughed again, wiping her eyes, "I know, I can't believe it!"

Minerva's smile faded slightly as she watched Poppy wipe her eyes, and her eyebrows furrowed sadly. She whispered, "I wish Pomona was here."

Poppy nodded, her lips pressed together tightly, "Me too."

"I can't wait to show her," Minerva said. They nodded at each other in understanding, wobbly smiles on her face. Poppy rubbed her upper arm comfortingly.

Dumbledore offered the three students handkerchiefs, which they accepted with some awkward laughter. Minerva vanished her own with a flick of her wand after she'd dried her face.

"Are you ready to try transforming again on your own?" he asked. Minerva nodded excitedly. "Remember what it felt like to be a cat, focus on that feeling, and will the cat back into existence."

Minerva nodded quickly and closed her eyes. She couldn't wait for the day when this transformation was second nature, when she was so familiar with the way transforming worked that she could do it in a second, without even blinking. But for now, she took a moment to center herself, focusing on her memory as a cat – and to her delight, she shrunk again. She jumped up on Rolanda, who reached out and caught her with a laugh. "Oo, you feel like a real cat!"

Minerva meowed indignantly; what else was she supposed to feel like? Poppy started scratching between her ears, and Minerva closed her eyes happily. That did feel good. Poppy and Rolanda both laughed as Minerva became limp in Rolanda's arms, and Rolanda asked, "Can I touch your stomach? That's forbidden territory on a cat, and I've always been curious…" she trailed off as Minerva twisted in her arms, exposing her stomach. Rolanda giggled as she pet her, commenting, "You're fluffier here." Poppy started rubbing her stomach too, and Minerva started to grow a little uncomfortable. She was more sensitive there.

As she twisted back around, protecting her stomach from further rubs, Merrythought said lightly, "While this is an exceptional achievement, the earlier curfew is put in place for your safety, and so we should start making our way to your common rooms." She raised her eyebrows significantly at Rolanda and Poppy. Minerva jumped out of Rolanda's arms and transformed back into a human. "And, to be fair…five points from Ravenclaw and Slytherin for disregarding curfew."

"Worth it," Rolanda replied with a smirk. Poppy gave her Head of House a sheepish smile.

Merrythought scoffed, though she was smiling. She glanced up at Dumbledore and asked, "Are you escorting Miss Robinson to her common room, or shall I? Gryffindor Tower is farther—"

"I don't mind the walk," Dumbledore interjected lightly. "I would be happy to escort Miss Robinson. Shall we, ladies?" He raised his eyebrows significantly at Minerva and Rolanda, who nodded and, after bidding Poppy goodnight, turned towards the stairs to the basement and dungeons.

"What are you going to do now that you can be a cat whenever you want?" Rolanda asked with a grin.

Minerva laughed lightly, the sound echoing through the dungeon corridor, "Oh, I don't know. I didn't let myself plan that far. I'll probably try surprising my brother and my cousin."

"We could do Mason right now!" Rolanda replied eagerly. "If he's in the common room."

Minerva glanced up at Dumbledore, who simply raised his eyebrows in response, though she thought she might have seen a twinkle of amusement in his eye as they passed one of the sconces.

When they reached the blank stretch of wall that concealed the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Rolanda glanced at Minerva and urged, "Transform!" Laughing, Minerva complied. Satisfied, Rolanda gave the password, "Potentia serpentis."

The door to the Slytherin common room appeared, and Rolanda opened it to peer inside. Minerva flicked her pointy ears, realizing that she could hear the crackling of the fireplaces inside the room, the scratch of quills against parchment, and distinct voices. She was sure she wouldn't normally be able to hear those things, and got a little thrill from this new discovery.

"Mason!" Rolanda called. Minerva's ears twitched again, and she walked behind Dumbledore to hide. He turned to watch her, a small smile playing on his face.

Minerva heard a chair shift slightly, and then footsteps across the marble floor. The voice of Minerva's fourth-year cousin replied, "Rolanda? Is everything alright?"

Rolanda opened the door wider, allowing him to see Dumbledore for the first time. Mason's back straightened and he greeted, perplexed, "Professor!" He glanced at Rolanda, "So, you were caught? But why—? Is Minerva—?"

"I am simply delivering Miss Robinson back to her common room after discovering her out past curfew," Dumbledore assured him. Minerva slunk out from behind him and padded softly over to Mason.

Mason looked down at the cat at his feet as it rubbed against his legs. Rolanda asked, "Is that your cat, Mason?"

"What? No," he replied, looking back up at Rolanda. "I don't have a cat. And I still don't understand why you've called me over here."

Minerva slid around her cousin's legs, and then jumped, her paws connecting with his chest. To her relief, he grabbed her instinctively, and she used his arms as a platform to continue up to his shoulders. Rolanda laughed, "It looks like she likes you."

Mason craned his neck to stare at the cat, remarking, "I've never seen this cat before."

"Haven't you? I have," Rolanda replied, an amused smirk quirking at her lips. Mason gave her another perplexed look.

Minerva couldn't take it anymore. She jumped to the ground and transformed back into a human. The look on Mason's face was priceless, and exactly what she'd hoped for. She grinned at him delightedly as she took in his open-mouthed, wide-eyed expression in all its glory. She laughed as he took a step backwards. The sound of her laughter seemed to break him from his stupor, and he smiled at her. "Merlin, Minerva! That's brilliant! Show me again!"

Minerva happily transformed back into her tabby cat. Mason knelt on the floor next to her, examining her more closely now. She tilted her head to the side as he scratched her chin.

"You've still got your glasses on," he remarked in amusement.

Minerva meowed. She took a step back from him and returned to her human form, glancing back at her patiently waiting professor.

Mason glanced over at Dumbledore, too. "I suppose you should get going, though. Thank you for showing me, and congratulations!"

Minerva pulled her fourteen-year-old cousin into a hug, which made him flush in embarrassment a little; he glanced around at his housemates, a few of whom were watching curiously.

"I'm glad I got to see that reaction, it was golden," Rolanda remarked as the McGonagalls pulled apart. Mason shot her a pointed look that reminded Minerva of his mother.

Minerva bid her best friend and her cousin goodnight, and then left with Dumbledore. As the entrance to the Slytherin common room disappeared behind them, Minerva said, "Thank you for indulging me."

Dumbledore chuckled, "It's my pleasure. And if I'm being completely honest, part of me feels as though this is as much my accomplishment as it is yours. In a way, it is as though I have finally achieved the transformation."

"I'm sorry if—"

"Oh, don't be sorry!" he interjected quickly. "I feel no resentment at all. I am proud."

Minerva's heart warmed at that, and it took all her self-control to keep a stupid grin off her face.

"As for Miss Robinson's question," Dumbledore continued. "One way that I'd like to see you try to make use of your Animagus form is in your dueling. It's not something that your opponents will expect, and you have the great fortune of having a small, agile form. I encourage you to use Professor Merrythought's Dueling Club as a place for you to practice incorporating your new ability."

"That's a great idea, I will," Minerva replied, her mind now turning over the possibilities of this suggestion.

They took a few sets of stairs in silence as Dumbledore let Minerva think about what he'd said. Eventually, though, Minerva asked, "So how do I register myself?"

"Ah, good question," Dumbledore remarked. "We need to go to the Ministry tomorrow. I don't want to interrupt your classes, nor mine, so I was thinking we would meet in the Entrance Hall a little after four?"

Minerva nodded, "That works for me."

"Good," Dumbledore smiled. There was a lull in conversation before he commented, "I'm sure your parents are eager to know if you were successful. They might have gotten some of the same storm tonight."

Minerva's eyes flew open wide, and her hand leapt to the pendant around her neck, "You're right!" She flipped over the opal pendant and brought the tip of her wand to the smooth, circular backside. The simple words, "I did it! – Mi2" appeared on the back briefly for a moment before disappearing.

A few seconds passed before her pendant warmed, and the message, "Congratulations! So proud! – W&H" appeared.

Minerva smiled. She nearly let the pendant fall to her chest again, but it warmed again, and she checked for another message. Her parents' message had been replaced by a new one from her sister: "What animal? – Mi4."

She touched the tip of her wand to the pendant again and replied, "A cat! – Mi2."

As more congratulations came in from her grandparents, her aunt and uncle, and her brothers, Minerva glanced up at Dumbledore with a sheepish smile, saying, "Sorry."

"It's alright," he replied, smiling too. "I think more families should make use of the Protean Charm for emergencies and special occasions such as this. Of course, it's not particularly practical for extended conversations."

"Or private conversations," Minerva added with a grimace. "My mother has used it to embarrass me before."

Dumbledore chuckled, "I'm sure not you alone, though."

Minerva allowed herself a grin, "True, Mitchell and Michael have had their share of embarrassment over the Protean Charm. I'm sure Miranda is next."

"In any case," he said with a grin, "I'm sure your family is glad to be connected to you in moments like this."

Minerva nodded. They walked together in comfortable silence until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Minerva turned to Dumbledore and said, "Thank you, so much, for all of your help. I couldn't have done it without you."

He smiled at her, his blue eyes twinkling. He inclined his head humbly and replied, "I'm sure you could have, but I am grateful to have been part of this experience. Thank you for including me."

She shook her head at him in disbelief, though she was smiling. He quirked a questioning eyebrow at her, and she explained with an amused lilt, "Why can't you simply let me thank you?"

He chuckled, "My apologies. You are very welcome, McGonagall."

Minerva glanced over at the Fat Lady, who was observing this conversation with interest. The retort that came to mind – Was that so hard? – died on her lips at the sight of the gossipy portrait. As she glanced back at Dumbledore, she asked, "Would you mind giving the password? I'd like to surprise my housemates."

"Not at all," he replied with a small grin.

Minerva grinned back and transformed. The Fat Lady gasped, "Ah! We have an Animagus! A student Animagus, can you believe it?"

"Where Minerva McGonagall is concerned, I certainly can," Dumbledore replied. He raised his eyebrows significantly at the Fat Lady and said, "Serpens delenda est."

The Fat Lady opened the door, revealing the portrait hole to Gryffindor Tower. Minerva leapt inside. Some people glanced up as the door opened, but she didn't pay attention to them, her little heart racing rapidly as she made her way over to the table where her friends were still writing their essays. She jumped up onto the table, which elicited an exclamation of surprise from Richard, who she was nearest, "Ergh! Stupid cat almost made me knock over my ink." Donnie, seated across from Richard, pulled his own ink bottle a little closer to himself protectively.

Minerva walked across the table, over Oliver and Theodore's books, and flopped down, laying over her own textbook that she'd abandoned because of the lightning storm. Clarisse, who was seated next to Theodore and across from where Minerva had been sitting next to Oliver, reached over and let Minerva sniff her hand, "I think it's cute. I wonder whose cat it is? I don't remember seeing it before." Minerva offered Clarisse her head, and her dormmate started scratching.

Oliver was staring at her. She met his eyes, wondering if he was making the connection. She flicked her tail at him playfully as she stared him down, and he murmured, "Minerva?"

Clarisse's hand stilled. Minerva sat up and walked daintily over to Oliver. Stepping over his inkpot carefully and over the textbook open in front of him, she leapt into his lap and sat down, looking out at her friends seated around the table. They were exchanging stunned and amazed looks, their mouths slightly open with smiles curling at the corners of their lips. Oliver ran a hand along her back, and she looked up at him. He smiled down at her, "Minerva, is that you?"

In response, Minerva transformed back into a human. Donnie exclaimed, "Bloody hell!"

Richard and Theodore laughed in disbelief. Clarisse's jaw dropped. After taking in their expressions with a smug smile, Minerva turned back to Oliver, whose lap she was lounging in, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He grinned at her and said, "I'm so proud of you."

Minerva beamed, tears prickling in her eyes. She hadn't realized until that moment how much she'd desperately wanted to hear him say those words while looking at her with precisely that expression. In her joy, she reached up and kissed him, not caring at all that Donnie or Richard or Theodore or even Clarisse was there.

Wednesday, 2 June 1943

At breakfast the next morning, Minerva eagerly watched the door, waiting for her brother to enter the Great Hall. When she'd woken up that morning, naturally at about the time the sun rose, she had grinned to herself and immediately transformed. Part of her couldn't believe that she'd actually done it. She'd developed an ability that she would have for the rest of her life, a rare ability that would make her notable in the field of Transfiguration. Her field. It was truly a dream come true. She wanted to share it with everyone, but her family in particular.

Minerva grinned when she saw her brother Michael enter with two other third-year Hufflepuff boys. She turned to Oliver with mischief in her eyes, earning her a set of raised brows in response, and said, "I'm going to surprise Michael."

Oliver laughed lightly and nodded before turning back to his breakfast. Minerva transformed into her Animagus form, earning her some surprised glances and double-takes from the people who'd noticed, and hopped down from the bench at the Gryffindor table. She dashed quickly and quietly over the flagstone floor, under the table and between bookbags and feet, until she reached the place where Michael had taken a seat. Since she'd mentioned over the Protean Charm that her Animagus form was a cat, she knew there was a chance he'd guess right away that the cat giving him special attention wasn't a real cat, but she wanted to give surprising him her best shot. She waited under the table for a moment, listening to his conversation.

"Did you end up finishing Gibson's essay, Alfie?" Michael asked. Minerva's ears flicked as she listened to the sound of his fork and knife against his plate as he cut into his breakfast sausage.

"Yes, thank Merlin," Alfie Hunter, one of Michael's two best friends, replied.

"What's he got to do with it?" Keith Vaughan, their other best friend, joked.

Minerva's whiskers twitched in amusement as she heard the sound of the other boys shoving him playfully for that.

Since they weren't talking about her, Minerva thought there could be a chance that her being a cat Animagus wouldn't be the first thing that would come to Michael's mind if he saw her. She decided to take the chance. It was now or never, she supposed. She jumped up on the bench beside Michael and put her paws on the table, sniffing his plate.

"Oi! No, that's not yours. Here," to Minerva's amusement, Michael reached for the tray of black pudding in the center of the table and grabbed a piece to feed to her, "take this, you can have this, hardly anyone eats it."

Minerva, who'd eaten very little as she'd eagerly waited for her brother to come to breakfast, gratefully took the black pudding from him. This was the first time she'd tried eating in her Animagus form, and she was impressed by the sharpness of her teeth and the effectiveness of her rough tongue at getting all the little pieces of food in her mouth as her teeth teared into the black pudding a little messily. Michael started running his hand along her back as she ate the food she'd been given over the table.

"She's a pretty kitty, isn't she?" a third-year girl named Nancy a few feet down the bench from Michael remarked. "Is she yours?"

"No, I don't have a cat," Michael replied. Minerva finished her black pudding at that moment, and decided to rub her head against Michael's arm.

"She seems to like you," Nancy said with a smile. "Maybe she's chosen you."

"She likes him because he fed her," Keith retorted, smirking at Michael.

For the first time, Minerva looked directly up at Michael, meeting his eyes, and meowing. His hand paused its rubbing, and he tilted his head to the side. He furrowed his brow and leant forward slightly. Minerva brought her face closer to his. Judging by the way his eyes darted around her face, she imagined he was taking in her spectacle markings and her familiar green eyes. A smile grew on his face, and Minerva knew he'd figured it out. "Minerva?" he asked.

Minerva transformed back into a human, seated on the bench next to him with a grin on her face. Alfie, Keith, and Nancy all jumped. Nancy screamed a little, and Alfie exclaimed, "Merlin's pants!"

Michael turned on his friend with laughter in his eyes, "There you go talking about Merlin again."

Alfie just stared at him with his mouth hanging open, and then at Minerva beside him. "You're an Animagus! Since when have you been an Animagus?"

"Since last night," she crowed proudly, her back straight

Alfie and Keith stared at her with gaping jaws. Michael laughed lightly and wrapped his arm around his older sister's waist, giving her a hug from the side. Minerva leaned into it, smiling happily. "Congratulations, Minerva," he said. "That's bloody brilliant."

"Thank you," she replied, pulling away.

"Can I look at you again?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'd like to see that again," Keith added.

Minerva, happy to comply, transformed again. She hopped up on the table to allow Michael and his friends to examine her. As she did this, Professor Gibson came down from the High Table to address her house. "Now, Mr. McGonagall, Mr. Hunter, Mr. Vaughan – you know cats are not permitted on the dining table."

Minerva hopped down from the table and onto the floor. She transformed directly in front of the Hufflepuff Head of House and remarked, "I apologize, Professor, but in my defense, I am much cleaner than any of the owls that fly over our food every morning."

Gibson stared at her with wide eyes, but that was the only outward indication she gave that she was surprised. Her eyes were sparkling and her lips were pulling rebelliously in amusement. She replied, "I suppose that is a fair counterpoint, Miss McGonagall, so then let me make a new complaint: the Hufflepuff table is meant for members of Hufflepuff house only."

Minerva inclined her head, her own eyes sparkling with amusement, "Of course, my apologies. I'll return to Gryffindor straightaway."

She backed away and made to turn around, but Gibson stopped her, "Miss McGonagall?" Minerva paused. Gibson gave her a small smile, "Congratulations."

"Thank you, Professor," Minerva replied, smiling too.

Much of Minerva's day ended up involving her transforming for her professors and her classmates. Each one of her professors wanted to devote time to examining her Animagus form and watching her transform. In Transfiguration, Dumbledore gave the class the opportunity to examine her closely as he explained how convincing the transformation was. After pointing out all the ways she looked exactly like a cat, the ways she was fooling them all, he brought special attention to her spectacle markings and reminded them of the significance of distinguishing marks.

"But why a cat? Did she choose her form?" Charity Goode asked.

"No, an Animagus form is not chosen," Dumbledore explained. "An Animagus will not know what form they will take until they have completed the transformation. It is said that the form represents who the Animagus is, their personality."

"Poppy guessed that Minerva would be a cat," Rolanda added, glancing over at Charity. Poppy blushed, but she had a small smile on her face. Minerva hopped over to their table and rubbed against Poppy's arms.

As the curious eyes of their classmates turned on Poppy, she said, "Er – well, I thought she'd be a cat, first and foremost, because of the phrase 'curiosity killed the cat.' Minerva is extremely curious, sometimes recklessly so." She focused on scratching between Minerva's ears, not liking all the attention that she was getting, "And then I thought that a cat is perfect for her because Minerva is a person who is somehow, paradoxically, playful and serious all at once."

Minerva was glad she was a cat at the moment, because even she was feeling a little embarrassed about the attention she was getting, now.

The rest of her day passed much of the same way, although no one else devoted as much time to her Animagus form as Dumbledore had. It went by quickly, and soon enough she was standing in the Entrance Hall, watching Dumbledore descending the stairs, nodding his head at the students he passed. He raised his eyebrows at Minerva as he approached her, and asked, "Are you ready to go?"

She nodded, and they walked out the castle doors together. As they started down the path to the gates, he asked, "Have you been to the visitor entrance of the Ministry before?"

"Yes, actually," Minerva replied. "For Rebecca Robinson's trial."

"Ah, yes, I'd forgotten about that," Dumbledore responded with a casualness that people rarely managed when she reminded them of that awkward part of McGonagall-Robinson history. "So, you can visualize it?"

She gave him a small smile, "I think I can make the Apparition. If not, I have you with me, and you've proven you're more than capable of putting Splinched people back together."

He chuckled, "Yes, I am. I do have a photograph, though, of the entrance if you'd like to use it, perhaps simply as an extra layer of security."

Minerva considered his offer, "Well, I do think it's important that I learn to Apparate from memory, but…," she hesitated, watching her feet, "it's been nearly three years since I've seen it, so maybe this time I ought to use the photo."

He nodded and pulled a photograph from the inside pocket of his robes. As she studied the telephone booth and the surrounding area, he commented, "I agree that it's important to practice Apparating from memory, but I think you should start with places that you are more familiar with, such as where you grew up or places in Hogsmeade."

"Or Diagon Alley," she supplied.

"Precisely," he replied, nodding. "Similar to how focusing on your Animagus form works. In the beginning, more focus is required. Once it becomes second nature, though, you can make the details a little fuzzier and still end up with the same result. To reach that point, though, requires practice."

Minerva nodded, and remarked, "It's funny you should say that." He glanced down at her, quirking a brow. "I use Apparition as an analogy to help seventh-years grasp Complex Conjuration."

He smiled, "It's a good analogy. Both Transfiguration and Apparition are focus-heavy areas of magic. They both require a great deal of precision, more than most. I expect you're rather gifted at Arithmancy, too?"

Minerva flushed, though a small smile played at her lips, "I'd say so."

"That is another field where exactness is necessary for success," he replied, nodding. "Your attention to detail is a great asset to you in those areas of magic."

"What about Potions?" she asked curiously. "Wouldn't that require precision?"

He tilted his head consideringly, "Not in the same way. Potions requires a certain level of creativity and intuition to reach a Master's level. You won't find instructions for how to brew the perfect potion in any textbook, because Potions Masters hoard the secrets of their art like dragons. You can make a successful potion, certainly, but not a perfect one. They consider it a mark of a true Potions Master to be able to discover the little alterations that need to be made to the published instructions to perfect it."

"I never realized," Minerva remarked thoughtfully.

They finally reached the Hogwarts gates, where Ogg, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds, was waiting for them. The Scotsman raised a hand in greeting as they approached, "Dumbledore, McGonagall." They both waved back. He turned his attention to Minerva and asked in Scottish Gaelic, taking her a little off guard, "I hear you're going to the Ministry to get on the Animagus registry."

Minerva blinked in surprise, her brain taking a moment to catch up since it had been a few months since someone had spoken Gaelic to her, but nodded quickly, "Yes, I am."

"Let's see it, then," he said with a smile.

The familiar giddiness that still shot through her every time she had the opportunity to showcase her new skill warmed her again, and she transformed. She ran around Ogg, who crouched down to get a good look at her. He chuckled in amazement as he examined her. When Minerva transformed back, smiling proudly, he remarked, "You make a bonnie cat, lass."

"Thank you, Ogg," she replied, beaming.

"We should be going," Dumbledore suggested lightly, taking Minerva by surprise. Ogg laughed as her head jerked around at Dumbledore as Scottish Gaelic came out of his mouth. He raised his eyebrows at her, his blue eyes twinkling in amusement.

"Aye, of course," Ogg replied, turning to unlock the gates. As they walked through, he said in English with a wink, "Haste ye back!"

They waved at him again, and as he turned away, Minerva rounded on Dumbledore, "You speak Gaelic?"

"I speak many languages," he replied, smiling.

"I wish I'd known," Minerva commented in English, her verb tenses escaping her at the moment. "I'd have liked the practice. I have little reason to come see Ogg."

"Well, now you know," he replied. He quirked a brow and asked, "Shall we?"

Minerva smiled excitedly and nodded. She glanced down at the photograph he'd given her one last time before visualizing the visitor's entrance to the Ministry in her mind, and turning on the spot. She Disapparated with a crack, endured the familiar squeezing sensation, and reappeared next to the telephone booth. She looked around for Muggles and, seeing none, started patting herself down to be sure she had all her parts and pieces. Dumbledore appeared behind her with a quiet pop. She turned to face him and asked, "I didn't leave anything behind?"

He chuckled, "Not that I saw."

Minerva glanced around again for Muggles again before transforming into a cat experimentally. She stayed in her form for only a moment before transforming back into a woman with a relieved sigh.

"No, you can't leave that behind," he laughed, understanding her thought process. She gave him a sheepish smile. Still smiling, he gestured towards the telephone booth. Minerva opened it and stepped inside. Dumbledore followed her into the tight space and she got a whiff of that vague chocolaty smell that she'd caught last night. As he closed the door behind them, he said, "I apologize for invading your space like this, but we must enter together."

Minerva blushed, "It's alright."

Dumbledore picked up the receiver and she watched from her place squeezed against the corner as he dialed 62442. A cool female voice spoke, "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall for the Animagus Registry," Dumbledore replied clearly.

"Thank you. Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

A rattling sound drew Minerva's attention to the chute at the bottom of the Muggle contraption. Dumbledore removed two square silver badges from the chute and passed one to Minerva. She read it, and a smile quirked at her lips at the words, Minerva McGonagall, Animagus Registry. She proudly pinned it to her robes.

"Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wands for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

With that, the floor of the telephone booth began to shake as it began to make the descent into the Ministry of Magic. They were soon plunged into darkness as the telephone booth ground its way down, down into the earth for about a minute, until the golden light of the Ministry's Atrium nearly blinded them.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," said the female voice as the door of the telephone booth opened on its own.

Dumbledore stepped out first, and Minerva quickly followed, happy to be breathing in the fresh air of the large, open Atrium. Minerva looked around with interest. Although she had seen it all before – the peacock-blue ceiling, the dark wood floor, the golden symbols on the ceiling that continually moved and changed, the dark wood paneled walls with their gilded fireplaces – there was so much to see that she was sure to see something new. Since her father was an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries, she hadn't had the chance as a child to visit him at work like other children of Ministry officials. Rebecca's trial was her first time visiting the Ministry, when she was fourteen, and her father had taken the opportunity of them being down in the courtrooms to point out the door to his department.

"Stay close to me," Dumbledore instructed as he started making his way through the crowd of witches and wizards. It was nearing five o'clock, and many people were already on their way out, lining up at the fireplaces. Though Minerva sometimes felt a little awkward being taller than most people, she did appreciate it in moments like these. She could see over most of the people around her, and had a little more room to breathe. The crowd parted, though, for them as people did double-takes at Dumbledore. Minerva imagined they might be former students, and a few people did address him as "Professor" as he passed, but as she saw a few people who seemed to her to be older than him glance twice, she was reminded of what he'd said about participating in dueling tournaments. She wondered just how successful he'd been at that.

They reached the Fountain of Magical Brethren, and Minerva stared at the group of the wizard, witch, goblin, centaur, and house-elf. When she'd been fourteen, she'd found the fountain impressive and awe-inspiring. Now, though, as she eyed the reverence in the faces of the magical creatures – the goblin and the centaur in particular – she felt a sense of discomfort. It didn't seem very honest. Dumbledore paused in front of the fountain, though, and produced a Galleon from his pocket. She watched as he tossed it in, joining the other shining coins of primarily silver and bronze at the bottom of the fountain, and felt a warmth in her heart towards him. She remembered from her last visit that the proceeds all went to St. Mungo's. She tried to catch his eye as he turned away from it, but he did not glance at her. Instead, he led the way onward to the security desk.

A wizard in peacock-blue robes looked up from his copy of Which Broomstick? as they approached. He inclined his head and said, "Professor Dumbledore."

"Wilkins," he replied with a friendly smile. "We are visitors at the Ministry today."

"Step over here," he directed, gesturing to the space beside him. Dumbledore stepped forward first, and Wilkins held up a long, thin golden rod and passed it up and down his front and back. Dumbledore then handed him his wand, which Wilkins dropped on a brass wand scale. It vibrated, and then spit out a narrow strip of parchment, which Wilkins read off to Dumbledore, "Eleven inches, phoenix feather core, been in use for fifty-one years, correct?"

Minerva's eyes darted over to Dumbledore in slight surprise as he confirmed this. She often forgot how old he was, though she hadn't been sure of precisely how old until now; age was a bit vague in the wizarding world, since adult wizards and witches went ten, sometimes twenty years aging very little. She'd simply known that he'd taught her parents.

"You're next," Wilkins said to Minerva, jolting her out of her thoughts. Dumbledore stepped out of the way so Minerva could step up to Wilkins. He repeated the process with her, and read off the slip of parchment that resulted, "Nine and a half inches, dragon heartstring core, in use for six years, correct?"

"Yes," Minerva replied, accepting her wand back. Wilkins impaled both of the little strips of parchment on a brass spike on his desk and bid them a good visit.

Dumbledore led the way through a set of golden gates to a room with about twenty lifts. Very few people were waiting, but when one of the lifts arrived, a stream of people exited. They jostled their way against the flow of traffic to get onto the lift, which was occupied by three owls perched on a railing above them. Minerva made sure to not stand directly beneath them, instead opting to lean against the back wall of the lift. Dumbledore joined her with an understanding twinkle in his eye. Now that they were so close to getting her officially registered as an Animagus, Minerva felt herself growing inexplicably nervous. She grimaced as the lift stopped on the very next level, and glanced over at Dumbledore awkwardly.

Desperate for conversation to calm her nerves, she remarked, "So, phoenix feather? I imagine that was before Fawkes came along."

"Yes, perhaps a bit of foreshadowing of what was to come," he replied with a smile.

Minerva sucked in a nervous breath, glancing around at the other witch and wizard in the lift with them. "What's your wand wood?"

"Ebony," he answered, holding it up to let her see. "Yours?"

She held hers up as well, "Fir."

He raised his eyebrows, though his smile was curling into a grin, "Did Ollivander tell you that it is particularly suited—"

"—to Transfiguration?" Minerva interjected, her own lips quirking. "Yes, he mentioned." She then grimaced, "He also decided to tell an eleven-year-old that his grandfather called fir wands 'the survivor's wand,' which I think disturbed my mother more than me at the time, but now gives me a wee bit of discomfort when I think about it."

"A wee bit?" he repeated, amusement in his voice.

Minerva scoffed, "Yes, a wee bit. I know I'm quite posh for a Scot, but I'm still a Scot!"

He laughed at that.

They ended up stopping on every floor. The wizard who was with them got off at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and the witch at the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Minerva and Dumbledore stayed on the lift one more floor after the witch left them. Once they reached the second level, which the cool female voice in the lift announced as the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, they stepped off together.

Minerva had never been to this part of the Ministry before, although she knew her grandmother's office was on this floor. They were walking down a corridor lined with doors. Dumbledore led her past several of them before stopping in front of one. Minerva read the sign on the door and smiled, surprised but delighted, at the words IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE. She looked over at Dumbledore and, glancing at her watch, asked, "Do we have time?"

"The Administrative Registration Department knows we're coming. I told them we would arrive between four-thirty and five," he replied.

Minerva checked her watch again. They had plenty of time. Feeling a little eager, now, she pushed open the door and peeked hesitantly inside. The room was full of cubicles, and there were a few more owls on perches in here. As Minerva walked slowly down the aisle between the cubicles, she saw a witch bent over her desk, furiously scribbling on parchment, perhaps trying to finish what she was working on before going home. A little farther down, a witch and a wizard were leaning over a cubicle wall to talk to one another, both with bags slung over their shoulders. The witch's eyes slid past her coworker at their two visitors, and she smiled at Dumbledore in greeting, "Hello, Professor Dumbledore! What a pleasant surprise."

"Good afternoon, O'Reilly," he replied. As the wizard turned around, too, he added, "And Ulster, good to see you as well."

As Ulster greeted Dumbledore, O'Reilly's eyes fell on Minerva, and her brow furrowed, "We've met before, haven't we? I've seen you somewhere before."

"Ah—"

"Kingston, have you finished that report yet? That better not be you I hear having a blether," a familiar female voice called, growing closer with each word she said. Minerva smiled, and a look of comprehension dawned on O'Reilly's face. Minerva imagined she'd must have seen a photo of Minerva in Gliona's office.

"Nearly there, ma'am!" the witch Minerva had passed earlier shouted back.

The dull sound of Gliona McGonagall's footsteps against the carpet announced her arrival just before she turned the corner. "Abbott at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts has been hounding me – Minerva?" Gliona rounded the corner at that moment, shaking her head slightly in surprise as her eyes landed on her oldest granddaughter. A smile of delight curled onto her face. "I wondered if I would see you today!"

She held out her arms for a hug, but Minerva took the opportunity to transform, leaping into her grandmother's arms that way. Gliona laughed and wrapped her arms around Minerva while O'Reilly and Ulster gasped. Gliona scratched the back of her neck and cooed, "Well you're soft, aren't you? And bonnie too."

Minerva purred, and Gliona continued scratching as she examined her.

"Have you noticed her glasses?" Dumbledore asked.

Gliona glanced up at him, and then back down at Minerva. She chuckled, "I have now." She turned to give O'Reilly and Ulster a better look at Minerva, and they stepped closer to see. With pride in her voice that warmed Minerva's heart, she said, "This is my granddaughter, Minerva. William's second. She's the youngest Animagus in Britain!"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Minerva," Ulster said to the cat, laughing slightly.

Smiling, Gliona looked down at her granddaughter. Her hand stilled, and Minerva looked up at her with her green cat-eyes. "I suppose you two should get moving. I'm sure our friends in Registration are eager to go home, too."

Minerva hopped out of Gliona's arms and transformed back. She then gave her a proper hug.

"I'm glad you stopped by, though," Gliona said as they hugged. "I'm so proud of you, Minerva. We all are."

Minerva beamed happily. She and Dumbledore said their goodbyes to the people left in the Improper Use of Magic Office, and then returned to the hallway with all the doors. He led her past a few more of them before stopping at another on the opposite side of the hall, placing his hand on the knob. Minerva took a deep breath as she read the words ADMINISTRATIVE REGISTRATION DEPARTMENT. He asked her quietly, "Are you ready?"

Minerva nodded curtly, and he opened the door. This room was much more open than the Improper Use of Magic Office, as they found themselves in a reception area rather than an office space. There were lines of empty chairs interrupted by small tables with various wizarding magazines. At the back of the room was a desk with an empty owl perch, and the young wizard sitting behind it stood as they entered. Dumbledore approached the wizard, who offered his hand for him to shake over the desk with a smile, "Right on time, Professor."

"Are you implying I am not usually punctual, Bones?" Dumbledore quipped.

"Never, sir," he replied with laughter in his voice. He turned to Minerva and offered her his hand, "Basil Bones."

"Minerva McGonagall," she replied, shaking his hand.

"Both of our parents like alliteration, it seems," he joked. Minerva laughed. He grinned, "Professor Dumbledore tells us you're an Animagus."

"Yes, I just completed the transformation last night," she replied, the giddy feeling in her stomach returning.

He nodded and looked down at his desk, "Very good, congratulations. If I could simply have you fill out these forms to the best of your knowledge…" He passed a clipboard over to her with pieces of parchment attached, and then an inkbottle and quill. Dumbledore took the inkbottle as she accepted the clipboard, and they sat together in the reception area. Minerva thanked him as he set the inkbottle down on the table next to her chosen chair, and set to work on the forms. Dumbledore picked up a copy of The Practical Potioneer that was on the table and started flipping through it.

The forms asked her basic demographic questions that she would have expected, such as her name and her date and place of birth, as well as questions that she hadn't expected but didn't surprise her, such as the place and time of her first transformation and the total length of time spent on the project. There were also questions, though, that completely perplexed her, such as her age at her first accidental magic, if she'd ever taken the Polyjuice Potion, and the last time and reason she'd seen a Healer.

Once she completed the forms, she brought them back to Bones, who asked her to wait as he went through a door behind his desk. Moments later he returned with a witch who looked slightly older than him, and who also offered Minerva her hand to shake, "Hello, Minerva. My name is Jean Dagworth. I'm a mediwitch, and I will be taking your vitals today. If you'd follow me, please?"

Minerva glanced back at Dumbledore, who glanced up from his magazine to give her a little nod. Minerva then turned and followed the mediwitch through the door behind Bones's desk. They walked down a hallway lined with doors together until Dagworth pushed one open. She gestured for Minerva to go inside first, and then shut the door behind them. It was a rather plain room, with a potted plant in the corner, two chairs, and a table.

"Alright, Minerva, if you could please stand up against the wall for me with your feet flat on the ground and your shoulders back, standing up nice and tall, I will take your measurements," Dagworth instructed. Minerva complied, and with a wave of Dagworth's wand, a tape measurer flew up to her and started measuring different parts of her body, beyond just her height. Dagworth noted all of the measurements, and then asked Minerva to step onto a brass scale. The mediwitch recorded her weight, and then permitted Minerva to sit. She waved her wand several times over Minerva, making notes after each wave.

"Well, I am pleased to inform you that you are in very good health," Dagworth said with a smile. "I see no negative side-effects from the transformation. Now," she glanced down at her notes, "you said you haven't seen a Healer or mediwitch since you sustained a Quidditch injury last May."

"Yes, that's correct," Minerva replied.

"So, no one prescribed you the Contraceptive Potion you started taking in January?" she asked.

Though her tone was strictly professional, Minerva blushed, "Er, no, not exactly. My aunt's a mediwitch and she gave them to me, so I suppose, technically…"

"I understand," Dagworth replied, and she gave Minerva a kind, reassuring smile. "I'm a mediwitch, my dear. I've seen what this war has done to young people. I'm glad I'm reading a Contraceptive Potion in you rather than a baby."

"This won't be—"

"—oh Merlin no, no this will not be public record," Dagworth interjected quickly. "I asked for clarification in case you hadn't realized minor consultations – perhaps a time you'd asked for a Pepper-Up or a Dreamless Sleep – were of interest to us, beyond major injuries and incidents. Have you had any such visits with a Healer or mediwitch since last May?"

"No, ma'am," Minerva replied, her face still a little pink.

Dagworth made a few more notes and then asked, "Alright, now, can you transform for me?" Minerva complied, and Dagworth smiled, "You make a beautiful cat, my dear."

She repeated the process she'd performed on Minerva's human form now on her Animagus form, measuring all different parts of her body, taking her weight, and checking her vitals again. Once she'd finished, she had Minerva transform back and said, "Well, that's all for me. You can stay right here, and someone will be along shortly to finalize everything. It was a pleasure meeting you, Minerva."

They shook hands again, and Minerva gave the mediwitch an slightly awkward smile. She waited, staring at her hands in her lap for several minutes after Dagworth had gone before the door opened again, revealing a wizard who was probably about Dumbledore's age, carrying a folder in his hands and a camera around his neck. He offered Minerva his hand to shake and introduced himself, "Hello, Minerva. My name is Archibald Macmillan, and I will be finalizing your registration."

He took the seat across from hers and opened the folder. In a conversational tone, he asked, "You're William and Halina's daughter, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

He smiled, "I was at their wedding. Your grandparents', too, actually, though I missed them in school. I got to go simply because it was the pure-blood thing to do, which, I'm sure you understand, being pure-blooded yourself."

Minerva gave him an awkward smile, watching as he looked down and made a note in his folder. She had an idea of what he was writing, and it made her uncomfortable. "Does that matter?" she asked.

Macmillan glanced up at her, his brows knitted together in confusion, "Sorry?"

"That I'm pureblooded. Does it matter?" she clarified.

He glanced down at the note he was making with a short laugh, "You sound like a Muggle-born, my dear girl." Looking up at her again and noticing the frown on her face, he attempted a reassuring smile and said, "It's only demographics, that's all."

Silence fell between them as he scanned her file, until he started summarizing all the information that he had about her in the file. Once Minerva confirmed that it was accurate to the best of her knowledge, he set the folder aside and lifted the camera, "We're nearly finished. Now I need to take some photos of you both as you are, and as a cat. Are you ready?"

Minerva pushed her hair out of her face and nodded. He instructed her to look head on and not smile. She blinked hard after the flash, and while she recovered, he instructed her to turn her head to her right. Minerva did, and he took a profile shot of her as well. He then had her transform, and took several photos all around her feline body, having her turn for each one.

"Madam Dagwood told me that she thinks your distinctive marking is the pattern around your eyes, and I agree, so we will need a closer shot of that as well," he said from where he was kneeling on the floor in front of her chair. Minerva sat very still as she watched him turn his lens, focusing on her face. She looked away after the flash, blinking. He told her she could transform back, and she did. He smiled at her and offered her his folder and an inked quill, "All I need is your signature. By signing, you are affirming that all the information we have gathered from you today is accurate, and that you understand that your name, form, and distinctive marking will be listed on the Animagus Registry from now on."

"It's not a magical contract?" she asked, her eyes roving the parchment.

"No, not at all," Macmillan replied. "This binds you to nothing. It's simply a little extra security for the Ministry, proof that we did our job to the best of our ability."

Minerva scanned all the information in the folder, though, feeling a little paranoid now. She'd felt that this process was a little more invasive than strictly necessary. Eventually, she did sign where he'd indicated, and handed it back to him.

"That's it!" Macmillan informed her shutting the folder. "I will show you back to reception."

"I don't need a license or certificate?" she asked as they stood.

He shook his head, "No, there are so few registered Animagi that the department feels such a step would be unnecessary. Officials ought to be able to remember such a short list of people and animals, they think."

Minerva nodded, and they continued their walk down the hall in silence. Dumbledore looked up when they entered, and Minerva felt a little bit of relief to see him. She hadn't realized just how draining the registration experience had been for her until now, but she was happy to see him and even happier that it meant they were leaving.

Dumbledore stood, and Macmillan approached him with his arm extended. The two wizards shook hands and exchanged pleasantries before Macmillan turned to Minerva and said, "I was at school with your professor, here, though I was two years above him. That didn't matter, though, because everyone knew who Albus Dumbledore was."

Dumbledore inclined his head humbly, "You flatter me, Archie."

"It's well-deserved, Albus, well-deserved," he insisted, patting Dumbledore's arm. "Anyway, Minerva is officially registered and free to go. Congratulations to you both, I'd say, for this achievement. And!" He had started to back away, but then stopped, holding up a hand, as if he'd just thought of something, "I believe I will see you both in August at my granddaughter's wedding, yes?"

Minerva blinked in surprise and glanced up at Dumbledore, who gave Macmillan a small smile and a nod, "Yes, I will be attending her wedding to Mr. Prewett."

Realizing they were talking about Lucretia – though she should've known, since that was the only wedding she was invited to this summer – Minerva nodded and confirmed that she would be there as well. Macmillan smiled and bid them a good evening.

As soon as they stepped out of the Administrative Registration Department and into the main hallway of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Minerva's shoulders relaxed. They started walking to the lifts, and once the door shut behind them, Dumbledore turned to her and asked, "Are you alright? I know he can be a little…"

"Much?" she supplied. He smiled. She sighed, "It wasn't only him, honestly. That was an exhausting process."

"I confess I don't know what it's like," he said. "I've never looked into it."

"Some of the things they ask, some of the information they want, I just don't understand. Why does it matter when if I've asked a mediwitch for a Pepper-Up or Dreamless Sleep or anything of the sort in the last year? Why does it matter when I earned my Apparition License? Why does it matter that I'm a pure-blood?" she vented.

He walked beside her silently the rest of the way to the lifts. Once they stopped, he asked carefully, "Would you like me to wager a guess, or were you simply venting?"

Minerva released a short huff of amusement and crossed her arms, "I'm listening."

Dumbledore gave her a small, amused smile, his eyes twinkling, "It seems to me that they are concerned with your overall general health, in regards to your first question. As for Apparition, you and I were just discussing the relationship between Apparition and the Animagus transformation. It is another visualization exercise. And as for being pure-blooded…well, I think we can chalk that up to the Ministry being stuck in the old ways of looking at the world. As long as we consider blood status to be a relevant demographic question separating members of the wizarding world, that won't change."

The lift arrived, nearly full of people already from the first level, and they stepped inside. They did not speak to one another throughout the duration of their trip down to the Atrium, though Dumbledore did engage in small talk with a few people who knew him. It inevitably came up that they were visiting the Ministry to register Minerva as an Animagus, at which point she transformed for the curious people around them. She jumped into Dumbledore's arms so the other people could see her, and decided she felt much more comfortable there than squeezed among the other passengers of the lift. She remained in that position, content to allow the people around them to get a good look at her as long as she could stay right where she was. Her heightened senses made that vague smell of chocolate on his robes much less vague, and she caught notes of other sweets as well that weren't as defined.

Dumbledore carried her out of the lift when they finally reached the Atrium – after, of course, stopping on each level – where they joined the wave of people still exiting the Ministry. It was now after five o'clock, the official end of the day for most of the people working in the various government departments. Since there was really no room for her to jump onto the floor to transform without getting stepped on, Dumbledore continued to carry her through the Atrium. Her ears twitched as she listened to the cacophony of voices filling the echoing hall mixed with the sound of fireplaces erupting as the wizards and witches activated the Floo Network to go home. It was a little overwhelming, being able to hear all the sounds at a heightened level, and each one so sharp and distinct. She closed her eyes and buried her face into Dumbledore's robes, lowering her ears to try to block out the sound. She felt Dumbledore look down at her, but he did not stop moving through the Atrium.

Minerva's attempt to diminish the sound worked very little, though, to her frustration. Then, through the headache-inducing din, a familiar voice pierced through it all, making her ears twitch again. "…because ever since we moved in with my parents, Halina's been missing cooking."

Minerva's head perked up, and she placed her paws on Dumbledore's shoulder to look around for her father. She searched in the direction of the voice, and using a combination of her heightened hearing and sharp eyes, she was able to spot him walking behind them and a few feet to the right. She meowed loudly. Dumbledore looked around in the direction she was leaning, and being as tall as he was, was quite capable of looking over the heads of the people around him to spot William McGonagall, who was between his daughter and Dumbledore in height and therefore more easily spotted in a crowd.

Understanding, Dumbledore cut to the right, through the crowd to intercept William. Minerva's father blinked in surprise as his eyes landed on Dumbledore, and then a smile formed on his face as he saw the cat in his arms. "Dumbledore! Is that—?"

"—your daughter, yes."

Minerva jumped from Dumbledore to her father, who held her close and examined her with a grin, "Look at you! If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a real cat." He turned to the wizard he'd been walking with and said with pride, "Hector, this is my daughter, Minerva, the one I was telling you completed the Animagus transformation."

The fact that they'd stopped forced people to walk around them, which created a small space between Dumbledore and William. She hopped down into the space and, understanding what she was after, Dumbledore took another step back to give her more room as she transformed. William gave her a proud smile and a hug. Hector offered her his hand and said, "Hector Fawley, I work with your father."

"Pleasure," Minerva replied, shaking his hand.

"It looks like we're blocking traffic, so I say we head towards a fireplace together. Shall we?" William suggested, gesturing forward. Dumbledore turned and led the way. William and Minerva linked arms as they followed, with Fawley walking alongside William. As they walked Minerva received congratulations from both wizards, and her father emphasized how proud her family was of her. Though the past hour had been exhausting for Minerva, hearing her father's pride made her heart soar again, reminding her of how wonderful her accomplishment was.

When Fawley stepped up to the fireplace, they said their goodbyes. Minerva received a tight hug from her father and a kiss on the forehead, along with a final, beaming reminder of how proud he was of her before he approached the fireplace and disappeared in a flash of green flame. Minerva was smiling happily to herself, and turned that look on Dumbledore as he got her attention, "We're going to the Hog's Head."

"The Hog's Head," Minerva repeated, nodding.

Dumbledore stepped forward first, threw a pinch of Floo powder into the flames, and spun away as he shouted his destination. Minerva followed him quickly, not wanting to hold up the line. After enduring the dizzying experience of spinning through the Floo while other people's rooms flew by, Minerva stumbled out of a new fireplace. Immediately, an unfamiliar, gruff voice met her ears as it said, "—pub isn't your train station."

Minerva steadied herself and looked around at the unfamiliar pub. It looked rather dark and dingy, but Minerva thought it matched the man standing behind the bar with the sleeves of his robes rolled up sloppily. His hair and beard were long and unkempt and his robes wrinkled and stained. As Minerva took him in, though, she started to realize just how much he looked like the man standing beside her. Most strikingly, they had precisely the same color auburn hair and light blue eyes.

"Of course it's not, Aberforth. I apologize for the intrusion," Dumbledore replied curtly. Minerva's eyes slid over the empty pub, thinking that it wasn't really an intrusion if nothing was happening.

Aberforth grunted and glanced over at Minerva before returning his attention to Dumbledore, "You staying?"

"I can't. I'm passing through to see Miss McGonagall safely back to Hogwarts, and then I have to go to France," he answered.

Aberforth snorted softly to himself, glancing down at the cup in his hand as his shoulder shook with silent laughter. Minerva wondered what was so funny about that.

Feeling a little awkward, Minerva cleared her throat and said, "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Dumbledore." After shaking so many hands that day, Minerva felt compelled to step forward and offer hers, but something in the way he carried himself stopped her.

Aberforth glanced back up at her, fixing her with a stare nearly as penetrating as his brother could have done. He raised his bushy auburn eyebrows at her with a crooked smile on his face and asked, "Warn you about me, did he?"

"Er—" she glanced uncomfortably over at her professor.

"I simply told her a few months ago that my brother owned the Hog's Head, and it seems her memory serves her well," he answered for her. "We should be going now, though. I'll stop by later this week for a pint or two as payment for using your pub as a train station, as you say."

Aberforth simply grunted, and turned back to cleaning his cups. Minerva was all too happy to follow her professor out the door. She waited until they were a few paces away from the pub before she commented, "You two are different."

She glanced up at his face to try to read his expression. He smiled thinly, without much amusement. "Yes, we are."

They walked a few more paces in somewhat awkward silence, until her discomfort got the best of her and she asked, "The two of you aren't purebloods, right?"

"No, our father was a half-blood and our mother Muggle-born," he replied.

It was clear to Minerva that he didn't particularly want to talk about his family, and she felt guilty for pressing. He did so much for her, indulged so many of her questions and ideas that she would hate to think she made him regret any of the time spent with her. Deciding to address the awkwardness head-on like the Gryffindor she was, she said, "I'm sorry for probing, I suppose it's that feline curiosity Poppy keeps talking about. Sometimes I can't help myself."

Finally, a genuine smile curled at his lips, and he glanced her way. They took a few more strides in silence before he replied, "It's alright. Don't ever lose your curiosity."

Her heart warmed at those words, and she smiled. Feeling bold, Minerva quipped, "Does that mean I can ask you more questions about your family?"

"Now, don't be impertinent."

Minerva laughed.

Friday, 4 June 1943

Facing off against two different opponents, who were both also fighting each other, was chaotic, which was precisely how Merrythought seemed to like her classroom. She stepped easily between the fighting trios, observing, critiquing, and occasionally interfering. For the most part, her students paid her no attention. Minerva, in particular, remained hyper-focused on keeping Shafiq and Lillian at bay. Both seventh-year witches were skilled at dodging and shielding, so it was difficult to get a spell past them, even with so many different spells flying around. Lillian was fit from playing Quidditch, and Shafiq was naturally lithe. Minerva had not yet resorted to using her Animagus form to escape. On one hand, she wanted to save it for a perfect moment; on the other, she wasn't exactly sure what that moment would be.

Such a moment arose, though, when Merrythought decided to join the fray. Minerva narrowly dodged a spell from an unexpected direction, twisting her body to put Merrythought in her line of sight. Shafiq attempted to take advantage of the distraction caused by their Defense professor, but Minerva quickly shielded against her spell. Lillian, then, decided to turn on her too, and Minerva sensed even as Lillian's wand turned her way that she could not move to avoid it because of the way she'd twisted her body to accommodate Merrythought. Minerva's shield was still active, but Lillian could very well be casting a spell that could penetrate it. She had a split second to decide, and so she did. As the spell shot out of Lillian's wand, Minerva visualized her dark grey tabby cat with those funny spectacle markings, and transformed.

She didn't have the opportunity to enjoy the stunned look on Shafiq's face, nor the way Lillian spluttered, nor even the grin that appeared on Merrythought's face. Minerva didn't dare look up at them as she took advantage of her element of surprise by leaping away from her former position. Only Merrythought recovered enough to shoot spells after her as she jumped across the floor, moving to a position where she could better see all three of her opponents at once. Shafiq and Lillian turned on each other instead of dealing with her, and so Minerva only had to dodge spells from Merrythought. That, though, was no easy feat, and she soon realized that the moment she stopped to transform back, she would fall. As she started to formulate a plan, Lillian created an opening for her unintentionally by trying to catch Merrythought off guard. Merrythought turned to parry Lillian's attack, and Minerva used the opportunity to return to her human form, doubling down her attack on her three opponents. She brought an unsuspecting Shafiq to the ground with a Stunner almost immediately, and Lillian's wand in her hand soon after.

Merrythought shot a white flag from the tip of her wand, which Minerva knew meant for her to stop attacking her professor. As Minerva lowered her wand, Merrythought said, "Nicely done, McGonagall. Good usage of your Animagus form. I believe you noticed the drawback of using it, though?"

"It was hard to return to my human form safely," she replied.

Merrythought nodded, "Precisely. I still think it is a smart tactic, as it is certainly something your opponents will not expect, but I encourage you to practice transforming while moving more before implementing it in real dueling situations."

Minerva nodded, "Thank you, Professor."

Merrythought revived Shafiq and instructed Minerva to return Lillian's wand to her, and then set the three witches on each other again.

Monday, 7 June 1943

Albus Dumbledore stood tensely and invisibly against a wall in the classroom McGonagall reserved for her Transfiguration Club. On his left stood Armando Dippet, and his right Nicolas Flamel, though he could see neither of them.

"Vanishment is by far the most complex and important thing you will be tested on in your OWL. As it lays the foundation for learning Conjuration, proving you are successful at Vanishment could be the determining factor towards awarding you a score that will allow you to continue with Transfiguration at the NEWT level. I want to see you vanish these kittens – and Amelia, I see that look you're giving me, they are not real kittens. I transfigured them from teacups." McGonagall gave Gryffindor Chaser Amelia Livingston a pointed look down her nose, her lips quirking slightly. "Come on, then. Let's see you try."

Despite Albus's nervousness, he felt proud as he watched McGonagall walk around the room, helping the fifth-years. Every one of the fifth-years had decided to come to the special study session she arranged with him for the day before their O.W.L. exam, which meant she had more students to manage at once than professors typically did. She was handling them well, though, carrying herself with the necessary confidence to hold their attention. Of course, the fifth-years' own anxiety about their impending exam probably helped keep them quiet.

McGonagall reached out and caught a kitten that was attempting an escape from Hufflepuff Prefect Thomas Laskey's wand. She set it back down in front of Laskey with a wry smile and stood by his desk to watch him attempt the spell. Albus watched Laskey take a deep breath and wave his wand in the correct pattern, enunciating, "Evanesco."

Albus leaned forward as the kitten disappeared and Laskey smiled. McGonagall, though, was still staring at the spot where the kitten had been. "It's not gone," she said.

Laskey's face fell, "What? What do you—"

He cut himself off as McGonagall transformed into her Animagus form, hopping up onto his desk and chasing after something that was difficult to see. As Albus focused, though, he could see signs of movement across the table in front of her. She caught the kitten in her mouth and brought it back to Laskey, who stared at her uncertainly. She sat back on her hind legs and held out her front paws, gesturing for him to hold out his hands. It only took Laskey a few seconds for him to realize what she wanted. McGonagall dropped the camouflaged kitten into Laskey's waiting hands, and then hopped off the desk, transforming back into a human.

"You've essentially Disillusioned it," she explained. McGonagall raised her wand and demonstrated by casting the Disillusionment Charm over herself. She waved her hand in front of him quickly so he could see how she was more like a chameleon than truly invisible. Once she reappeared, she said, "This is a common mistake – actually, could I have everyone's attention please?" She raised her voice, drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the room. A few students were trying to wrangle their kittens, and she waited for them pointedly before continuing, "A common mistake with Vanishment comes with the way people focus on the spell. At this point in your education, I'm sure you've learned that Transfiguration is a focus-heavy, visualization-based area of magic. If you are simply focusing on making an object disappear, you will not be fully successful. You need to focus on sending the object into nonbeing."

Hufflepuff Renée Edwards raised her hand, and McGonagall nodded at her. "What's the difference?"

"The difference is that focusing on making something disappear means you're leaning on your sense of sight, using it to inform the way you focus on the spell. You need to also take your senses of touch, sound, smell, and even taste – though I don't recommend trying to taste the kittens – into account," McGonagall replied. Albus smiled as people around the room nodded

Though McGonagall was performing as well as he'd expected her to, he still felt a little anxious watching her, knowing that beside him, Dippet and Nicolas were formulating their own opinions on the merit of bending the rules for her. He'd asked them here to show them how good she was, to show them why he was so reluctant to take on an apprentice who wasn't her. They watched as McGonagall made her way around the room, making sure everyone successfully vanished their kittens. When she was satisfied with their performance, she set them to a new task: practicing the Switching Spell on the bows of a pair of bonnets. He was glad she was demonstrating good time management skills for her classroom and an understanding that she might lose her grip of the students if they were left to their own devices.

He tensed for a different reason as McGonagall approached Riddle with a smile. He'd vanished his kitten easily. "Very well done, Riddle," she remarked. She raised her wand and conjured a rock about the size of Riddle's head, which she then transfigured into a terrier. It opened its mouth to bark, but before any sound came out, Riddle vanished it. McGonagall gave him an amused look and asked, "Was there anything in particular you wanted to review, or did you come because you had nothing better to do?"

Riddle gave her a charming smile that made Albus clench his jaw, and replied, "Not particularly. It seems that on the eve of my exam, the paranoia everyone else has been feeling finally set in, and I came." He glanced beside him at Cepheus Lestrange and remarked, "Lestrange, though, is having trouble with Vanishment and is too proud to ask for help."

Lestrange flushed and shot Riddle a look, though without much venom. McGonagall ignored this as she stepped around Riddle's desk to assist Lestrange after directing Riddle to practice the Switching Spell. With some extra coaching from her, Lestrange was finally able to vanish his kitten, bringing a smile back to Albus's face.

McGonagall had nearly gotten through the students practicing Vanishment, and as she moved to the next group of desks she called, "For those of you working on the Switching Spell, if you finish switching the bows, reach into your supply box for the snail and the hermit crab and attempt a Cross-Species Switch on their shells."

She continued on helping students with Vanishment, which took some time since it absolutely was the most difficult thing the fifth-years had to learn for their O.W.L. They hadn't made it this far under his tutelage learning nothing, though, so she managed to make it through and make her way back to where she started to begin reviewing the Switching Spell with the students who'd been practicing it. The rest of her study session went on much the same way, with her walking around the room, providing help to the students either as individuals or as groups, depending on the scenario, and occasionally stopping them all to dispense a bit of advice from which they all might benefit. She put them through several practical exercises that highlighted the most difficult and keystone lessons of Transfiguration as she worked her way through the room. Once they made it through all of her practical exercises, she fielded questions from the fifth-years, from the patently ridiculous to the unnecessarily complex, and gave thoughtful, respectful answers to each of them. Albus could not deny the feeling of pride in his chest as he watched her, recognizing precise phrases and examples that he himself had used time and again over his thirty-five years of teaching. Although McGonagall had not needed to convince him of how much she deserved an apprenticeship with him, watching her now only solidified that notion for him with certainty. Watching her, he knew that there was no way that the wizards standing beside him could deny that.

The questions the fifth-years were asking took her over the time she'd reserved the room for, though she didn't notice immediately. It wasn't until the door opened and her friend Poppy Nadson poked her head inside that McGonagall checked her watch and grimaced. She looked up at the students and said, "I have faith in all of you. The practice you've done today, the effort you've all put into it, will absolutely help you on your exam tomorrow. You have asked me thoughtful questions today that prove you are thinking along the proper lines. I have thoroughly enjoyed the time we've spent together this evening, and, to those of you who have been coming from the beginning – thank you."

From the back of the room, Nadson whooped and started clapping. Gryffindor Prefect David MacVanish got to his feet and started clapping too, which inspired a cascade of students applauding their tutor. McGonagall put her hands over her chest, her lips pressing together thinly and her eyebrows knitting together. She bent over a little, and Albus felt himself growing emotional, too. He knew how much it meant to him when he felt a student appreciated him as a teacher, and a moment like this was something that many teachers dreamed of but so few received. When McGonagall straightened, she was blinking furiously, and though no tears had escaped her eyes, her face was a little red. Not all of them were applauding – Albus's eyes instinctively flickered to Riddle and his friends, who watched silently – but most of them were, and that was more than enough to create a memory he was sure McGonagall would treasure for a lifetime.

McGonagall waved them off, "That's enough, please, please. I am not interested in making myself look like a fool in front of you all." The fifth-years laughed. McGonagall sucked in a breath and put her hands on her hips, "Well!" The students tittered again, grinning. "Off with you, on to dinner and a good night's rest. Feel free to tell me how you think you did after your exam tomorrow – and I expect updates on your scores when your results come in!"

Slowly, the students trickled out of the classroom, though some came forward to speak with McGonagall personally, some asking a final question, and others simply wanting to thank her. More than a half-hour after McGonagall was supposed to be finished, the last student cleared out and she gave a great sigh as her friend approached her.

"That was exhausting," she said, accepting a hug from Nadson.

Nadson laughed and drew away, "Yet I daresay you're glowing, Minerva."

McGonagall smiled, "I loved every minute of it." She waved her wand, summoning the supply boxes that she'd placed at each desk before her study session began, and then directed them into a bigger box.

"I'm sorry to have interrupted at the end."

McGonagall waved her off, shouldering her bag, "Oh, it's alright. We were over on time anyway. What are you doing here anyway, Poppy? Did you hope to get some practice in on conjuring and vanishing handkerchiefs?"

Nadson gave her a sharp, amused look that only made McGonagall grin. She set a hand on top of the box of supplies as McGonagall made to levitate it, pushing it gently back onto the table. "Actually…" McGonagall's face grew serious as she eyed the anxious expression on her friend's face. "I was hoping to talk to you before we made our way out into the hall around other students."

"About what?" McGonagall asked seriously.

"Well, your cousin approached me today, clearly trying to be very discreet—"

"Mason?" McGonagall interjected, looking alarmed.

"Yes, Mason, sorry, I forget about the MacVanishes—"

"—it's alright, I didn't necessarily mean them. I was more surprised that Mason reached out to a Prefect," McGonagall replied, crossing her arms.

"Right, anyway, Mason cornered me privately in the library, he said he'd been listening to some girls in his year talking in the common room about another girl in their year, in my house, and how they were discussing ideas about how to embarrass her in front of other students," Nadson explained.

McGonagall's brow furrowed and she leaned against her desk, "Mason usually operates under the idea that problems in Slytherin house need to be resolved internally. He hates interference."

Nadson grimaced, "I know."

"Did he give you names?"

"The fourth-year in my house, the one they're targeting, is evidently Myrtle Warren. I know Myrtle has had a lot of problems with bullying, and I've done my best to help her, but she's just at an age where all of these outside opinions matter far too much to her. It's hard to get her to listen to me. She thinks I'm lying because it's my job," Nadson replied, running her hand over the top of her head.

"Does Merrythought know this?" McGonagall asked.

"She knows everything except what Mason told me today, but I plan on telling her," Nadson answered. "Mason named the Slytherins, too, by the way. Fourth-years Olive Hornby and Lacerta Macmillan. I'm telling you this because I'd just like some help looking out for Myrtle. If whatever they do is going to be as serious as Mason seems to think, I'd like all the Prefects looking out for it, but discreetly. Myrtle wouldn't react well if she thought we were babysitting her."

McGonagall nodded, "I'll make sure the Gryffindors know."

"Thank you," Nadson replied, looking a little relieved. "Let's go to dinner then. Or—" She glanced hesitantly at McGonagall's box of supplies.

"I'm dropping them by Dumbledore's office on the way down, if you don't mind a detour. He said he'd leave it unlocked for me," McGonagall explained, levitating the box.

"I don't mind at all," Nadson replied, and with that, the two witches made their way out the door.

As soon as the door shut behind them, the three wizards who had been standing quietly and invisibly removed their charms and glanced around at each other. They all moved to take seats, since they'd been standing for so long, and Dippet remarked, "That was certainly an enlightening experience."

Nicolas nodded, "I see why you're so insistent." He rubbed his bushy white beard thoughtfully, eyeing Dippet.

None of the men spoke for a moment, each preoccupied with his own thoughts. Eventually, Dippet sighed and met Albus's eyes, "I will bring your proposal to the staff."

Albus smiled.