A/N: Updated as of April 2021. Enjoy!
For disclaimer, please see the prologue.
Chapter Two: September 29, 1937
It was Minerva's fourth week at Hogwarts, and she was doing quite well, thank you very much. She found her classes enjoyable, and her professors seemed to think she had the perfect mind for moulding. Minerva knew that she was smart for her age, but she hadn't expected everything to come so quickly to her. In particular, she enjoyed Defence and Transfiguration to no end, and it was always fun when she got to whizz around the courtyard during Madam Finch's flying lessons. Her roommates were pleasant enough to be around, and she and Aidan often did their homework together in the common room. A couple of times a week, Minerva would meet up with Rowena in the library or the Great Hall to study. Everything was going exactly as she would have wanted. She had even managed to avoid Katrina so far, something that she was genuinely thankful for.
"McGonagall!" Minerva turned away from her sandwich to see Aidan running towards her. "Can you help me with that Potions essay tonight? I still don't understand this Monkshood theory that Professor Slughorn keeps going on about."
"It's not a theory, it's an ingredient, Aidan." She rolled her eyes. "But yes, I'll help you. Only because I know you're completely and utterly doomed without me."
"You're the best, you know that? I'm going to get you the best birthday present ever, just you wait." Aidan sat down and picked up his own sandwich. "What's next, Transfiguration?"
"Yup." Minerva nodded. "Why don't you know that? We've been here for almost a month."
"You see, Minerva," Aidan explained, "I could memorize our timetable, but when you've already got it memorized, it sounds like a waste of time to me. My resources would be better spent on other stuff, like joking with Jaime and Michael, or learning how to pull the best pranks like Callum. I have my priorities all set, I'll have you know."
"Ugh, boys." Minerva grimaced as he stuck his tongue out at her. "Hurry up, Aidan. We'll be late."
"We're never late, McGonagall." Aidan rolled his eyes. "We're early to every class." He filled his pockets with some of the sandwiches left on the table. "Dumbledore hasn't even left yet."
Minerva turned in the direction of her friend's nod. Sure enough, Professor Dumbledore was still eating, chatting with Professor Harrison. She huffed, "I can see that, Aidan. But I've still got to go up and get more parchment from the common room, and you need to clean your robes. Your sandwich is dripping all over you."
"Oh, crikey." Aidan wiped at his chest. "Can't you do that scourge-y clean-y spell that you told me about?"
"You mean the one that you teased me over because apparently it's for fourth years, and I'm a Gryffindweeb?"
Aidan sighed. "Yeah, that one. Please?"
"Fine." Minerva rolled her eyes and pulled out her wand. "Scourgify." She was pleased to see that despite its difficulty, she had nearly managed it. There was only a crumb left on Aidan's robes. "Not perfect, but it'll do."
"You're bloody wonderful, McGonagall!" Aidan grinned.
"While I cannot profess to love the profanity, that was well done, Miss McGonagall." The pair looked up to see Professor Johnson, the Charms professor, peering down at them over her glasses. "Some of my third years cannot manage a charm of that magnitude. Did one of your siblings teach you that?"
"No, Professor." Minerva blushed. "I took Callum's old textbooks one day after finishing my homework and thought it would be fun to try. It's a spell that can't really go wrong if I were rubbish at it, unlike a Defence spell."
"Charms can still be dangerous if you are not fully in control," Professor Johnson admonished. "Remember that next time, and if you ever do want to go ahead in the curriculum, you know where you can find me. Ten points to Gryffindor." She paused to look at her watch. "Now, don't you all have a class to get to?"
"Right, um, thank you, Professor," Minerva stammered, hurrying to gather her things. "Aidan, let's go," she said, slapping his hand as he reached for another sandwich. "No time for that parchment, I suppose. Now, we'll really be late—Aidan, hurry!"
They ran to the Transfiguration classroom, just sliding into their seats beside Augusta and Michael before Professor Dumbledore came out of a door at the front of the room. "Good afternoon, class," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "It's hard to believe we've almost completed your very first month here at Hogwarts. I hope that you're all enjoying yourselves and that your studies are going well. I thought today we might revisit one of the first lessons we did: transfiguring a match into a needle. I want to ensure that you all have a grip on the basics before we move on, and for those of you who demonstrated their skills earlier, you can take this opportunity to embellish a bit. See if you can change the colour, the length, things like that." He waved his wand, and matches appeared before each of the students. "You know the incantation. Give it a go, and I'll help you out as you need."
Minerva grinned at Aidan. The two of them were proving to be skilled at Transfiguration, and they liked trying to best each other. "Par acus," the duo said at the same time, watching their matches transfigure.
"Oi, mine doesn't look that good, does it?" Aidan bent down to look at his match. "It's still wooden. That didn't happen last time. Blimey, McGonagall, why is yours perfect?"
Minerva smiled, despite her excellent manners telling her not to gloat. "Because, oh wise one, you were focusing on my match so that you could beat it, not focusing on your own." She frowned slightly. "I wanted to try to make it green." Whispering the counter incantation, she rolled her neck and tried again. "Par acus."
It took her a few tries, but she eventually got it in the end. Her needle was green, and she managed to make it bigger than it had been before. Truthfully, Minerva had wanted it to shrink, but Professor Dumbledore had been so impressed that he gave Gryffindor ten points, and she wasn't one to challenge authority. Eventually, she helped Augusta with her match; the poor girl wasn't able to do much more than make a wooden needle, much like Aidan's, but it was a vast improvement over the first lesson, during which her match hadn't changed at all.
"Good work today, class. Please remember that you have a foot of parchment due on Tuesday concerning chapters one through three of your textbook. If you have any questions, please come see me." Professor Dumbledore waved his hands, and the needles were gone again. He walked over to Minerva. "Miss McGonagall, if I remember correctly, you have double Potions this afternoon?"
"Yes, Professor," Minerva said, quite frankly a bit concerned that she had gotten into trouble.
"If you would be so kind, please come to my office after your lessons today." Professor Dumbledore smiled, but quickly frowned when he realized he had scared the poor girl. "Everything is fine, Miss McGonagall. Just wanted a brief chat."
"Okay, sure, Professor," Minerva nodded. "I'll see you after class." She turned to catch up with Aidan, wondering what on earth he wanted to see her for. Minerva hadn't had anything to do with Callum's latest prank—she wasn't sure how he was pulling these off as Prefect—on Professor Dippet, who was not amused when his sausages had eaten the rest of the food on his plate the other morning. Shrugging off Aidan's questioning gaze, they walked together to Potions, as she attempted to discern what her Head of House wanted with her.
"Hello, Miss McGonagall," Professor Dumbledore said merrily, his blue eyes twinkling down at her. "Please take a seat." He waved her in. She heard him close the door behind her, and she sat down. "Jilly?"
Minerva jumped as a house-elf, presumably Jilly, popped into view. "Professors Dumbledore's be wanting his hot chocolate now?"
Professor Dumbledore nodded, "Yes, please, Jilly. Miss McGonagall, would you like some hot chocolate?"
"No, thank you, Professor." She wrinkled her nose. "Just some tea, please. Thank you, Jilly." Minerva smiled at the elf, who disappeared with a nod. Quickly, two steaming mugs were in front of them on the desk.
"Now, Miss McGonagall," Professor Dumbledore said, wrapping his hands around his mug, "do you know why I wanted to chat with you?"
"Honestly, Professor? I'm not sure." Minerva wrapped her hands around the tea mug, thankful for the warmth. "I'm not...in trouble, am I?"
"No, no, of course not, Miss McGonagall. In fact, I asked you here to talk about your Sorting. I'm sure you noticed that it took the Hat a while for it to choose your House?" Dumbledore sipped his drink.
"Oh, that." Minerva shifted uncomfortably. "I had hoped to forget about that, to be honest. It seemed like it would isolate me away from everyone else. And everything has been going so well here in Gryffindor—you're not telling me it meant to put me in Ravenclaw, are you? That it was mistaken?"
"Miss McGonagall, no." Her professor tipped his head and laughed. "You're not getting taken out of Gryffindor. That would be detrimental to my House: you have an aptitude for collecting house points. No, nothing bad will happen to you as a result of your Sorting. In fact, you made history."
"I made history, sir?" Minerva gasped. "What do you mean?"
Professor Dumbledore smiled widely. "I mean, you were the first female Hatstall in the history of Hogwarts. Actually, you're the only second person in history to manage it at all."
"Woooah, what?" Minerva was amazed, and it struck Dumbledore that for all her prowess and maturity, she was still only eleven years old. "Er, sorry, sir, I'm not sure what a Hatstall is? I've never heard of it."
"That is unsurprising. Given the rarity of the situation, there has been little research done. Miss McGonagall, a Hatstall occurs when the Sorting Hat cannot decide between two or more houses for the student it is attempting to sort. Longer Sortings aren't terribly uncommon, but when it takes over five minutes, it is classified as a Hatstall."
"I was up there for about six minutes, wasn't I?" At her Professor's nod, Minerva continued, "Professor, it's not...bad, right?"
"No, of course not. It just means that you had an almost equal predisposition for two or more Houses." Professor Dumbledore smiled down at his student. "I can tell you want to ask me something—what is it?"
"Well, who was the Hatstall before me?" Minerva wondered.
"Wondering if you're in good company?" Professor Dumbledore teased, his eyes beaming. "The other Hatstall was me. Much like yourself, I found myself on the stool for an uncomfortably long time."
"Really? We're the only two? Blimey," Minerva muttered. "The Hat," she hesitated, not knowing how much to share, "couldn't decide between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw for me. Although you could probably guess that, given where Diana is."
"I had my suspicions, Miss McGonagall," Professor Dumbledore said kindly. "Given your talent not only for my class but also for your other subjects, I'm sure your mind would have served you well in Ravenclaw. I cannot, however, disguise my pleasure at having you placed in my House. I think you have a bright future ahead of you."
Minerva blushed. "Well, I'm happy to be here, Professor. Can I ask you a question?"
"You can always ask a question, Miss McGonagall." He laughed at his student. "What is it?"
"If you don't mind my asking, sir, what did the Sorting Hat consider as options for you? I know you ended up in Gryffindor; obviously, you're my Head of House. But what was the other House?" When her Professor stayed silent, she added, "Professor, if it's too personal a question, don't feel like you need to answer."
Albus Dumbledore considered the young student in front of him. He had never before told anyone what the Sorting Hat had told him nearly twenty years ago. Truthfully, he had only coined the phrase "Hatstall" once he started teaching because Armando Dippet wanted to give the Governors something juicy to show that the school was still performing well. And yet, he couldn't lie to Miss McGonagall. He knew what it was like to have people whisper about you, and he also was aware that sometimes the only thing that brought comfort was confiding in someone who shared a rare experience.
"I trust you will keep this to yourself." Dumbledore raised his eyebrow and waited for his student's nod. "It would seem that the Sorting Hat thought that I would do well in any of the four Houses."
"Really?"
Dumbledore saw through that and cut right to the question that he knew she was too embarrassed to ask. "Yes. Even Slytherin. Your evident disdain for Slytherin is further evidence that you belong here in Gryffindor." He sighed, hating the rivalry that often cost him the House Cup.
Minerva looked suitably chastened at that remark. "I'm sorry, Professor, I didn't mean any offence, truly. I'm not normally one to judge. Slytherin just has a...history that the others don't. And some of the people sorted there are right mad," she added, thinking of Katrina.
"Miss McGonagall, while I understand, please remind yourself that there is a bit of every House within each of us. In my case, I was almost equally all four."
"Yes, Professor." Minerva hung her head shamefully. "I'm sorry I was judgmental. My Ma taught me that there lies a grain of truth within every stereotype, and sometimes I take that too far."
"Your mother is very wise." Professor Dumbledore smiled. "Now, I think your friends have done without your guidance for long enough. Thank you for coming to see me."
"Thank you, Professor." Minerva stood up. "For talking to me about it, and for sharing your experience. I won't tell anyone, I promise."
"You're welcome, Miss McGonagall. And," Professor Dumbledore hesitated, "I know. I trust you. Thank you."
Minerva walked to the door and turned around, the handle in her hand. "I can't believe I was the first woman in history!"