Written for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments) Term 13 and Quidditch League: Holyhead Harpies as Beater 2
HSWW: Floristry - Task #3: Boutonniere - Write a fic with one of the following themes: Deep/pure love, Affection, Admiration, Good luck
Quidditch League: Holyhead Harpies, Beater 2: Theme – Love them or hate them
Optional Prompts: Setting – Quidditch Pitch / Creature – Cat / Object – Piano
Challenges listed below
Word Count – 2974
"Are you alright, Filius?" Minerva asked when Filius walked into the staffroom, giggling to himself.
Minerva had been nearly drowning in parchment and ink when her colleague provided her with a much-needed distraction from all the essays she had to correct. Whenever she faced the pile of homework that she had to grade, she considered reducing her students' workload, but the mere thought of those kids and teenagers with more free time on their hands sent shivers down her spine.
"Oh, yes, my darling. I'm alright. How about you?"
"I'm okay." She eyed him suspiciously. "Do you mind explaining why you are laughing at the walls? Did one of the paintings tell you a dirty joke again?"
"That was one time, Minerva! I'm never telling you anything ever again," he complained, crossing his arms in feigned annoyance and throwing his little body onto one of the comfortable armchairs laid around.
Minerva let out a small laugh. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. Are you going to tell me what happened?"
"Guess who I had for fourth period?"
Filius didn't have to explain more. She knew her students' schedules by heart. More specifically, she knew the seventh-year Gryffindor students' schedules by heart. Not because she actively sought it, no. She knew it because of the other Professors' reactions. Every time a member of the faculty got their schedule and saw the names of James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew on their attendance list, their expressions were unmistakable. Some were excited, since they were skilled students, but a good chunk just grunted and rubbed their temples, anticipating the headaches. Filius Flitwick fit into the first category.
"What did they do this time, Filius? Furniture floating? Moving suits of armour?"
"None of that. Let's just say that Mr. Black seems to be really eager for Christmas this year." Filius rested his chin on his hand.
"Christmas? It's the first week of November."
"Oh, I know that. I'm sure Mr. Black does too, but he doesn't seem to care."
Minerva was getting tired of this conversation. Filius talked and talked, but he didn't offer any real information. He reminded her of something she was not very fond of.
"You know, Filius, I can easily see why you're the head of Ravenclaw. I feel like I'm talking to the bloody eagle knocker. Are you going to continue with the riddles or tell me what happened at once?"
Filius rolled his eyes at her. "You're so impatient. You wouldn't last a day in Ravenclaw. The Hat was right in putting you with the hot-headed lions."
"Filius," Minerva said through gritted teeth, mockingly. "I'm warning you."
"Okay, okay. So, Mr. Black, dressed in a ridiculous Santa Claus costume, and his entourage – you know those feathers I keep in my room?" Minerva nodded. "Well, they enchanted each and every one of the seventy feathers to sing a different Christmas carol. I didn't even know there were so many!"
Minerva felt her right eye twitching. Just imagining the chaos of students laughing, seventy different Christmas songs, and, of that she was sure, the voices of the four boys singing along to one of them was enough to give her a mild panic attack.
"So, you're telling me that you walked in here laughing because Sirius and the boys turned your classroom into a musical number from hell?"
Filius raised his eyebrow at her, and it took her a second to realize her mistake. Filius merely laughed and shook his head.
"Well, it was a very impressive display of magic by Mr. Black and his friends. Great wand work. How can I be mad at that?"
Minerva limited herself to laughing. Filius had fallen victim of the Marauder charm and brilliance from the very first day. Nothing could save him now.
"Minerva, how much longer until the end of term?" Cuthbert asked suddenly.
"Excuse me?"
Minerva raised her eyes from the stack of homework in front of her. She would finish them eventually, but her colleagues seemed to find her a very good listener and would not leave her alone.
"The term," he repeated. "How long until it's over?"
"I don't know," she said. "Why?"
"Those Gryffindor boys of yours. I've taught a lot of teenagers over the years, but none like them. One of these days, they're going to make me lose my head. It will make Sir Nicholas very jealous."
Minerva knew exactly what boys Cuthbert was talking about, but she was more interested in the second half of his speech. Sir Nicholas would definitely be jealous if Cuthbert lost his head after dying. He had tried for years, but was never able to. Could there be a way to sever a head after death? Would Nick ever be able to join the Hunt? Maybe if the boys helped, for sure. There was nothing they couldn't do. They could even-
"Minerva!" Cuthbert's voice took her out of her reverie.
"Oh, sorry. The term ends in a little over 6 months, Cuthbert. Then, we're all free."
She didn't think of asking Cuthbert what they did during History of Magic, since she was sure that he was going to tell her anyway. She was curious, though; Cuthbert Binns was not easily annoyed.
"Good. Do you believe that Potter, somehow, got a piano inside my classroom and proceeded to sing a duet with Miss Evans about the Goblin Rebellion of 1752?"
Minerva was puzzled. She surely expected this behaviour from James Potter and any of her friends, but Lily Evans? Granted, since they started dating, she had tagged along for some of their pranks, but nothing that… disruptive. She probably lost a bet to them. That must have been it.
"James played a song about the Goblin Rebellion on a piano during class along with Lily?" she repeated, still processing the information.
"That's what I just said, Minerva. Mr. Potter and Miss Evans," Minerva blushed, "sang, not only a song about, but a factually inaccurate song about one of the most important events in Wizarding History."
There it was. The real reason. Nothing rubbed Cuthbert the wrong way more than butchering Wizarding History. Minerva didn't know what to say to him. She didn't really care that much about history, if she was being honest. She didn't even remember the date of the second one before he said it.
"I'm sorry, Cuthbert. They're almost leaving. Hang in there."
Cuthbert smiled, pleased. He was not the biggest fan of the Marauders, but Minerva couldn't help but feel a little sad at the thought of the seventh-years leaving.
"Bonjour, Minerva," said Horace as he ran into her in the lounge, once again correcting homework.
"Good morning, Horace. Why are we going French today?"
Horace Slughorn was one of Minerva's favourite people. Not that she was ever going to tell him that, but she loved his eccentricities and she admired the way he took care of his students. She knew his reasons were not the most noble, but he always came to love and care for them at the end of the day.
"Mr. Black and Mr. Pettigrew inspired me. Well, and Mr. Potter and Mr. Lupin, of course. They're always together, after all."
Minerva took a deep breath and set her quill down, resting her chin on her hand to listen to the inevitable story of another Marauders prank on a teacher.
"They seem to be musical lately, so I'm assuming it's something to do with that," she guessed.
"Not at all," said Horace. "They were trying to convince everybody that they were exchange students from France. I don't know how they got that Beauxbatons light blue uniform, but I have to tell you, it suits them. It would suit everyone, really. It's a nice uniform, but I digress."
"I'm going to ignore your not so subtle jab at the Hogwarts uniforms and focus on the fact that they were not wearing it, alright?"
"Oh, that's not all of it. They spoke in the worst French accent I've ever seen during the whole class. I couldn't control myself. I'm sure it wasn't very professional of me, but I don't care. They're seventh-years. They're leaving anyway."
Minerva's heart tugged at the words. Once again, people had to remind her of that. She shook her head and sent the thought to the back of her mind.
"French accent, then?"
"Oh, yes. It was hilarious, Minerva."
Horace Slughorn was another one of the members of the Marauders fan club. Well, he had been a member of the Potter fan club for a long time before James Potter came to Hogwarts, so it was not hard for him to embrace the other three. The important part was that Minerva knew he was going to miss them, and so did she.
Minerva McGonagall was shell-shocked. Her eyes were wide and fixed on the flying blue things that swarmed the Quidditch Pitch and disrupted the match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. She didn't even see them coming.
Rolanda had just made the two Captains shake hands, when suddenly, the Slytherin Beater was being lifted in the air by his ears and the other players were waving their arms around trying to get rid of something she couldn't quite see. The pandemonium really started when the Pixies started flying towards the stands and more students suffered the same fate as the poor Slytherin Beater.
The noise was far too loud for Minerva's liking. The stampede of screaming students, the squeaky voices of the Pixies and cursing from about everywhere was too much for her. She had to get out of there, but she couldn't. She was a Professor, and she would have to deal with the whole thing. And that made her mad.
She knew exactly who had done this, but she didn't know why and she couldn't really prove it, so she wouldn't be able to give them detention or dock any points. Minerva channeled her frustration into a powerful Freezing Charm and decided to let the rest of the school deal with the Marauders. From the little she was able to make out as the students ran past her, they were a lot less than pleased. Some death threats were made, but Minerva was sure they were empty ones.
No one could hate her– hm, the boys, for too long.
Minerva took a second to recompose herself before walking into her classroom. She was tired, it was the last period of the day and she was really looking forward to sitting down anywhere and doing absolutely nothing, because she deserved it. It made her feel a little better knowing that it was a seventh-year class.
Everything was going fine, with the exception of the suspicious absence of Mr. Pettigrew, but since Mr. Lupin had been the one to say that he was not feeling very well and had stayed in bed, she accepted it. Halfway through the class, as the students practiced Conjuring Spells, the door to the classroom opened on its own.
"Took him long enough," she heard Sirius– erm, Mr. Black, whisper to Mr. Potter.
Minerva knew that meant trouble and she was ready for the worst. Lately, every Marauder prank had been noisy and messy. They really wanted to leave with a bang. And the bang came in the form of a big bag of something green thrown from nowhere right in between the rows of students. The bag hit the floor and its content went everywhere. McGonagall recognized the smell immediately.
Catnip?, she thought. That's their big prank?
Minerva didn't have time to feel the disappointment that was starting to creep in, when about thirty cats barged into her classroom and began rolling around in the herb. After the initial shock of having her classroom invaded by all the cats in the castle, Minerva noticed that all of them were wearing the tiniest glasses she had ever seen.
Trying to hold back the sudden urge to burst out laughing, Minerva turned to the three boys who were not so successful in controlling their own reaction to the pets.
"Black, Lupin, Potter," she said, in the most serious tone she could muster. "Detention tonight with me in the trophy room. 7 o'clock."
"No, professor," Black complained. "It was a present. A good thing, you see. Now you can go play with your friends. Aren't you feeling the least bit different? No urge to join them whatsoever?"
Minerva felt her bottom lip quiver, but fought it.
"No, Mr. Black. No more than I urge to join the three of you in detention tonight," she said.
"Then don't go, Professor," Potter intervened. "If you don't tell anybody, we won't either. It's a win-win."
"Mr. Potter, if you keep talking, I'll make that a week of detention."
"Oh, no. He's done talking, Professor. I assure you," said Mr. Lupin.
"Y'know," she heard Potter whisper to his friends when she turned her back to them. "We got to give it to Pete. The glasses were a genius idea."
"Mr. Potter," she said, not bothering to turn around. "Do you mind telling Mr. Pettigrew that his presence is requested tonight? I'm sure he's already feeling much better."
Minerva felt like skipping as she walked towards the Trophy Room. After seven years of being pranked, Minerva McGonagall, with the help of Filius and Slughorn, decided to exact her revenge on the four boys that disrupted not only her classes, but also breakfast, lunch and dinner whenever they had the chance.
An hour earlier, she had excused herself from dinner in the Great Hall, choosing to eat in her room, only to be able to arrive in the Trophy Room earlier than the boys. She prepared everything. The buckets, the water and the rags.
She took out her wand and muttered "Geminio!" under her breath, and waited. Now, all they had to do was arrive.
Soon enough, they did. All four of them.
"It's nice to see you recovered, Mr. Pettigrew," she said, smiling towards him.
"Hm, yeah. Thanks, Professor." He returned her smile with an embarrassed one of his own.
"Alright," Minerva said, "wands, please. I can't have any of you trying to cheat your way out of this."
The boys grunted, but conceded. Cleaning the Trophy Room was one of the most boring activities that Minerva could think of. She had done her fair share of that back in her days as a student.
"Minnie, come on," Black tried one more time. "You don't want to be here, and neither do we. Let's just go have tea, or something."
"Well, I am not going to be here, Mr. Black. Just the four of you. Now, stop talking and start scrubbing. I'll be back in two hours to check your progress."
"Two hours? Minnie, that's way too long," Potter complained.
"Very well, if you can clean them all in less than that, I'll let you go sooner. How does that sound?"
"Perfect," Lupin said, before any of his friends had the chance to open their mouths. "Just perfect, Professor. Thank you."
Minerva nodded. She pointed to the buckets and rags on the corner of the room, and as they moved to go get them, Minerva walked out of the classroom.
"So, has it begun?" Horace asked when she met him outside of the Trophy Room.
"Not yet. Come, let's see."
Minerva opened the door just enough for her, Horace and Filius to be able to peek inside, but not be seen. Horace was already giggling, and she had to elbow him in the ribs to make him stop.
Potter was approaching the first trophy and Minerva felt the excitement bubbling inside of her. Just one more step. Now, all he had to do was touch it, and…
"OH, BLOODY HELL," he yelled as he dropped the trophy that split into five identical ones and hit the floor with a deafening sound.
"James! What did you do?" Lupin asked, stepping away from the trophy he was about to touch.
"Wait," said Pettigrew. "Does that mean we have to clean those too?"
"Prongs did it, so he'll clean it."
Black wrapped the rag in his hand, before he caught his trophy to clean. It didn't work. The trophy multiplied, just like his friend's had.
"Well, crap. We're staying here all night, aren't we?" He looked at the five identical things by his feet.
The four boys stared at each other dumbfounded and that was it for Minerva, Horace and Filius. Horace let out his loud belly laugh, Filius was sitting on the floor and Minerva had to support herself against a wall to keep herself from bending over.
There were not many opportunities for teachers to have fun with the students at Hogwarts, so whenever one presented itself, they had to take it.
"Oh, very funny," said Sirius, opening the door and finding his three professors having a laughing fit at his expense.
"I agree, Mr. Black," said Horace, wiping away tears from his eyes.
"I would apologize for it, but I'm not even sorry," Minerva said to them. "You four deserve it after everything you put us through."
"You love us," said James.
Minerva didn't even think about refuting that. With a wave of her wand, she sent the trophies back to their places, properly clean and with the copies gone. She considered making them go through with the detention, but it wasn't going to be necessary. After all, the detention had only been an excuse for the little Professor prank she had wanted to play on them for a long time.
"How about that tea, boys?" she offered.
As the three Professors and four students walked down the hallways of the school, Minerva smiled sadly. She didn't care about the people that didn't like the Marauders. They were her boys, and she would miss them very much.
Insane Prompt Challenge
#903 - Profession: Professor
August Auction
Day 15/ Auction 3 - Trope: 5+1