1951
The 1st of November was bright and brisk and Barrett was focusing all his energy on keeping his team focused on the blackboard beside him. Alaine and Mallory were staring in his general direction with glazed expressions; trying to shake off the remaining stupor of last night's firewhiskey. Jeremy Kent looked as if he might be sick and, when her stomach loudly interrupted Sterling's spiel, Minerva wished she had tried to eat a little more at breakfast. She repeatedly clenched and unclenched her hands into fists, twisting her fingers and flexing her gloves. The first game of every year always had her stomach in knots and her legs felt curiously heavy as if someone had filled them with lead.
"Is anyone even listening?" Sterling exclaimed angrily.
"Calm down mate. If we don't know it already there's no hope we'll learn it in the next 15 minutes." Porter yawned. Sterling shot a plea for help in Minerva's direction but she just shrugged noncommittedly in a 'he's got a point' sort of way and returned to her pregame ritual of wringing her hands. Somewhere off to her right she could hear Madam Bluster blow her whistle. Jeremy stood up so violently he tripped on his robes and Sterling went very pale in the face but beckoned for everyone to follow him.
The doors to the pitch opened wide and the Gryffindor quidditch team squinted in the sunlight, across the pitch they could see Slytherin doing the same.
"Right then boys and girls, lets show Slytherin what Gryffindor House is made of." And he kicked off into the sunshine. Soaring over the spectators Minerva could just make out the commentator over the wind rushing through her ears. "-new captain Sterling Barrett- Porter- Wentworth- McGonagall- Jones- Smith- Mallory MacDougall Gryffindor Seeker! – Top form – Blaxley – Burns – White – Montgomery – Thwaites – Edgeworth – Bergstrom, I wouldn't want to get in the way of her."
Turning about into position Minerva caught sight of Slytherin's beaters; Clinton Edgeworth and Marge Bergstrom, the boy was tall and thick through the arms and chest and the girl had a distinctly heavyset athleticism about her that made Minerva hope she was never on the receiving end of one of her bludgers.
The crowd was silent and the teams didn't move while Madam Bluster opened the chest of playing balls. The bludgers rocketed up and out of sight in an instant closely followed by the snitch that fluttered around Marcus White's head for a moment before zooming off. Minerva had one eye fixed on Blaxley; Slytherin's head chaser, and the other on the quaffle in Madam Bluster's hands. With a swift upwards jerk the quaffle was launched directly skywards, the spectators roared and Minerva darted beneath Blaxley's outstretched arm to snatch the quaffle out from under him.
"-that girl can certainly move - Burns in hot pursuit – pass to new chaser Jones, time to see what he's made of-" Minerva broke off and arced over the Slytherin chasers to form up with Alaine, blocking off Blaxley and White from intercepting Edgar as he raced off towards the goal posts. Off to the left Edgeworth had belted a bludger at her head and she was forced to dive off course.
"-oh no, Gryffindor have broken formation. Burns coming in for the tackle-"
Alaine swooped underneath Edgar who promptly feigned fumbling the quaffle, Gregory Burns dived at the opportunity but it dropped into Alaine's waiting arms. She rolled around Burns and kept low to the ground, circling around behind the goal posts before shooting back through.
"-Smith with the quaffle looking for an opening-" Minerva urged her broom forward to breakneck speed. She heard the crowd gasp and hold their collective breath.
"What is she doing? They're going to crash!" But she ducked under Alaine's broomstick as Alaine pulled upwards; passing the quaffle as they passed each other. Travelling so quickly she was little more than a streak of scarlet Minerva pulled her arm back and threw the quaffle through the far left hoop before the Slytherin keeper even realised it had changed hands.
"McGonagall scores! What an excellent bit of flying from the Gryffindor chasers!" she grinned as the sea of red and gold exploded in cheers and whooping. "Look out Slytherin, Gryffindor means business."
But they didn't have time to celebrate. Blaxley and White had the quaffle and were tag teaming up the pitch.
"Blaxley in possession – passes to White – back to Blaxley – White again – OUCH! That had to hurt! Edgar Jones takes the quaffle –" Edgar had pulled off to one side; flying close to the spectator towers with Blaxley in hot pursuit, trying to barge him into the railings. Edgar was quick but he was small and was having trouble avoiding a collision and going out of bounds. In a desperate attempt to help; Porter swung a bludger in their direction but it flew into Burns instead, knocking him into the tower and off of his broom. The sea of silver and emerald groaned while the younger students gasped in shock, joined by a few members of concerned staff. Edgar threw a hasty pass to Alaine who missed it by a hairs breadth and it was scooped up by White instead. Minerva had shot out underneath of White when Madam Bluster blew hard on her whistle.
"Foul!" she screeched.
Blaxley and Edgar were exchanging blows from their broomsticks and Blaxley was winning. He'd locked the handle of his broom with Edgar's and Edgar just couldn't manage to untangle himself amid Blaxley's onslaught.
"Blurting from Slytherin! BLAXLEY!" the shrill whistle pierced again and Blaxley finally let go. Minerva and Alaine rushed over to the boy, his nose bleeding profusely down his robes. Alaine pulled out a handkerchief from her sleeve and he tried to mop himself up.
"-foul from Slytherin. I hope Jones is ok – no need for fists on the quidditch pitch."
"It won't stop." He said thickly. Mopping his nose with his sleeve.
"Penalty to Gryffindor."
"McGonagall!" Sterling shouted from the hoops, "Leave him and take the penalty!"
Alaine pulled her wand from her breast pocket to mend his nose and Minerva flew over to where Madam Bluster was waiting with the quaffle. Marcelus Montgomery was sneering at her from his broomstick. He would have been a handsome boy if his face wasn't always curled in contempt. She tucked the quaffle under her arm and raced forward. Montgomery was a good keeper but he favoured the right side and was consequently easy to lure into a feint to the right. Just before the hoops she swerved to her left, Montgomery took the bait as she knew he would and so she flipped around and sent the quaffle neatly through the centre ring.
"Gryffindor scores! Gryffindor lead 20-0!"
Montgomery punched the quaffle to White as he whizzed past. Alaine and Edgar zoomed over to wedge White between them in a Parkin's Pincer while Minerva climbed higher to dive on him from above but Alaine lurched forward as Marge Bergstrom's bludger hit her square between the shoulders and White broke away; racing for the goal posts. Minerva spiralled down quickly to knock the quaffle out from under his arm but he heard her coming and dodged; elbowing her in the ribs for good measure. He took his shot in a wide arcing pass but Sterling punched it away to where Edgar was waiting. But no one was paying them any attention.
The crowd had cried out unanimously and everyone stopped to watch Aubrey Thwaites and Mallory MacDougal race each other skyward. Mallory was half a length behind and Aubrey kicked out at her, forcing Mallory off course. Porter and Jeremy raced to the nearest rocketing bludger and swung in unison for the Slytherin seeker. The bludger clipped Thwaites in the shoulder and she stuttered in her search for the snitch for less than half a second. Unfortunately for her half a second was all that Mallory needed to close her fist around the struggling gold ball and Madam Bluster blew her shrill whistle again. Minerva could barely hear the whistle or the Hufflepuff commentator over the screams and whoops from the Gryffindor stands. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff joined in with enthusiasm while Slytherin booed and hissed.
The Gryffindor team flew in behind Mallory as she lapped the pitch in triumph.
…
They celebrated in the change room while they waited for the crowd to thin and by the time they stepped outside there were only stragglers left.
"I bet you 5 sickles Robert Barnes is setting up a party right now!" Porter exclaimed, positively bouncing with happiness.
"You're on!" Jeremy shook on it. Mallory giggled but Alaine groaned.
"As long as there's no more firewhiskey." She almost yelped when a pointed shadow, followed by a rather round one, crossed their path, "not that there ever was any Professor Dumbledore, Professor Slughorn." She amended, hastily stumbling over her words as the Heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin House caught up with them.
"Of course not." Dumbledore smiled over his half-moon spectacles while Slughorn puffed along in his attempt to keep up. "What would 200 underage students ever want with firewhiskey on Halloween? I would never deny Gryffindor a chance to celebrate a well-earned victory but do try to wrap it up by midnight, wont you? Some of us have class in the morning." He turned to Minerva, "Miss McGonagall may I have a word?"
She looked back at her friends being shepherded up the path by Professor Slughorn.
"I won't keep you long." He assured.
"I'm not dropping any classes." She asserted firmly but he chuckled warmly at her defensiveness.
"Not to worry. The Headmaster informed me that you wished to speak with me about something and I just had to congratulate you on that splendid piece of flying today."
"Oh." Realisation dawned. "Thank you." He clasped his hands behind his back as they strolled casually up to the castle. "I had enquired with Professor Dippet about the study of Animagi and I'm he found himself rather ill-suited for the conversation and said he would pass the matter along to you."
Professor Dumbledore made a rather odd sound of discontent.
"My memory may not be what it once was but I distinctly recall covering this particular branch of magic in your third year?" He examined her pointedly over his glasses. She quirked an eyebrow but refused to blush.
"From a theoretical point of view, yes."
"Ah." He held the door to the entrance hall open for her. "Then I trust that I don't need to remind you just how intensely complex and dangerous this kind of transfiguration is. Plenty of witches and wizards far older and far more experienced than yourself have died in the attempt." He warned.
"Perhaps they weren't good enough." She passed coolly. They could hear the low roar of overexcitement echoing through the castle from the floors above.
Dumbledore smiled, "Perhaps they weren't. You know, of course, that I am not an animagus."
"You are not on the register."
He didn't know whether to be amused or offended by her ambiguity.
"Then, in the event that I agree, how would you suggest that I could help you?"
"I was hoping you would be able to provide some insight actually, professor."
He was silent while he pondered and opened the door to his classroom. He looked up when she didn't sit down. She was eyeing the transistor radio in pieces on his desk. He'd forgotten it was there but seemed glad for the distraction.
"Ah! An ingenious piece of equipment." He swept over and prodded the pieces with his long fingers. "Do you know it?"
"Yes, sir," she looked at him as if he had ridden out of the Forbidden forest on a centaur, "It's a radio. It won't work here."
"Yes I'm well aware." He continued cheerily, bending low over the dismantled transmitter. "I'm just tinkering here and there… perhaps it will play some music one day." He clapped his hands as it recollecting himself. "But we are not here to discuss my pet project."
Minerva suddenly found herself quite intrigued by her professor's 'pet project' but forged on regardless.
"There is only so much instruction in the books in the library, even in the restricted section, and it is infuriatingly vague. I'm not quite sure where to even begin."
He sat down in his chair and examined her closely.
"Why are you doing this, Miss McGonagall?" he asked, suddenly quiet, concern digging a crease between his eyebrows. She was startlingly precocious and while she had indeed seemed to climb back atop the mountain of work she was intent on punishing herself with the added strain of rare and dangerous magic seemed downright reckless. He felt exhausted just thinking about it.
"It's my favourite subject." She admitted, almost shyly, "I like to learn, sir, and I can learn no more about this from books."
Impressed as he was by her dedication, Dumbledore could not help but sigh.
"And you are set on this?"
"I am."
"Then we shall try."
A/N: This is where it gets tricky, I am experiencing a similar amount of frustration about the lack of information on Anamagi but I've done my best and I hope to get the next chapter to you soon.