Hello my Old Heart. (Where have you been?)
3rd March 1952
Sterling had his head on the desk again. Professor Binns' History of Magic classes required a certain amount of mental fortification just to remain awake, let alone active listening, and both Minerva and Walter were finding Sterling's snuffling snores harder and harder to ignore.
After a particularly enthusiastic snore that made him upset his ink pot, Walter kicked him hard under the desk. Minerva started as the whole desk shook, her head slipping off of her palm, and shot them both a filthy look.
Professor Binns fell silent, adjusted his notes, pushed his thick glasses up his nose and dragged on.
She did not want to admit to herself that she would have liked nothing better than to put her head on her arms and doze off too. The sun was comfortably warm on the back of her neck and her stomach was still pleasantly full from lunch. She forced her eyes to refocus on her notes, noticed that she'd left a sentence half-finished and struggled to remember what she'd been taking down.
Theirs was a very small class. Most students could not wait to drop History of Magic from their timetables the moment they had sat their OWLs but Minerva, Sterling, Walter, Xavier Carmichael from Ravenclaw, and Asher Finley from Slytherin had decided against all better judgment to take it up for NEWTs
"I could be doing my Transfiguration homework." Walter grumbled quietly, rubbing his bleary eyes and putting up a very good show of listening to Professor Binns' monotonous lecture though failing to write anything down. Sterling had lifted his head up just enough to prove that he was awake but bore a distinctly vacant expression, his jaw sagging. Minerva found herself scribbling absentmindedly on the bottom of her parchment, drafting transfiguration formulas between the lines of Ulick Gamp's formation of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in 1707.
When the bell signalled the end of class they gratefully tipped their books back into their bags and followed Xavier to the South Tower for Transfiguration.
Ivy and Augusta were already sitting down by the time they arrived and were watching Professor Dumbledore draw up a series of columns on the blackboard with trepidation. Their grimaces only grew when he began to write their each of their names along both the side and top of the board and then drew corresponding rows. Dusting off his hands, Dumbledore turned away from the table and faced his class.
"There is no need to look quite so anxious," and he smiled over his spectacles, "I assure you this is all in the spirit of fun. In fact," he swept his gaze over to Augusta, "Miss Wallis gave me the idea."
"I did?" she squeaked in a small voice, the tips of her ears going red. She cast around the room looking both apologetic and horrified.
"I realised that, with few exceptions," his eyes lingered on Minerva's for a second, "Transfiguration is not what most people consider to be fun and, if you would indulge me, I would like the opportunity to try and change your mind."
A few of the Ravenclaws were rummaging in their bags suspiciously, obviously concerned that some kind of impromptu quiz was in order, but straightened up quickly when Dumbledore caught sight of them.
"You may consult your text book or any notes that you have with you." He assured, "Of course I would prefer to see the product of your pure creativity… but we can't have everything we want, can we?" he conceded jovially, bouncing slightly as he plucked a handsome red and gold feather from the pocket of his robes.
"Each of you will compete against your fellow classmates to transfigure this," he twirled the feather between his fingers, "into something else. Once everyone has had a turn against everyone else the winner will test themselves against me to earn a very reasonable prize. Now, I think we will start with… Miss Wallis," Augusta moaned, "and Mr Searle." He beckoned them both up in front of the class.
"You'll take turns, say… no more than a minute, at transfiguring the others object until one of you cannot make another move or runs out of time," he dropped the feather between them beaming widely, "and remember, the only limit is your imagination."
Augusta was gripping her wand tightly and was tapping the point of her shoe against the stone floor nervously. Aster Searle gestured towards her politely,
"Ladies first."
Augusta pointed her wand, her mouth moving soundlessly, and a long silken gown of scarlet and gold draped itself over Dumbledore's desk.
A muscle worked furiously in Aster's jaw and Minerva swore she could hear his brain whirring from across the room before, with a jerky slash of his wand, Aster sculpted Augusta's dress into a rather sad and threadbare chaise lounge.
They fought back and forth until Augusta was pink in the face and Aster conceded defeat after Augusta transfigured his whistle into a working pocket watch.
"Next!" Dumbledore said enthusiastically, marking a tally under Augusta's name with a flick of his wand.
Ivy and Xavier faced off next with Ivy successfully befuddling Xavier in three moves.
Minerva decimated Marcus Kettleburn and Sterling lost out to Augusta.
Aster and Sterling fought valiantly for several rounds before Aster ran out of steam again and Walter stepped up to take his place.
Walter and Sterling's round was shortest of all, finishing abruptly when Walter's spell flew high and hit Sterling square in the face. It took Dumbledore and the rest of the class several minutes to calm down enough to stop laughing and for Dumbledore to return Sterling's feathery face back to normal.
Marcus barely outsmarted Xavier but was knocked out completely by Ivy. Augusta emerged triumphant over Walter, though Minerva suspected that he lost on purpose, before being defeated by Xavier who was so surprised at his accomplishment that he didn't manage a single transfiguration against Minerva.
The final round between Ivy and Minerva had the entire class perched on top of their desks brimming with a heady mix of excitement and anticipation. Even Augusta had to admit that she had caught herself having fun.
Ivy was grinning, teetering on her tip toes with her wand held tight and, thoroughly enjoying herself, Minerva found herself smiling too.
Ivy moved first, the porcupine crawling across the floor transformed into a pig with a snuffling snort. In half a second Minerva had transfigured the pig into a table that Ivy turned into a foot stool that became a yapping fox terrier. Momentarily stumped, Ivy took the opportunity to 'aww' with the rest of the class before she reduced it to a plush imitation with a wave of her wand. Minerva tried again, the stuffed toy morphing into a large, bounding golden retriever, and this time forcing Ivy to quite literally bow out. She curtsied facetiously, her arms aloft like a ballerina, then went and sat down beside Augusta. Dumbledore applauded politely and patted the dog on the head apologetically before it vanished and returned to a feather once more.
"That was very impressive," he praised the room at large, "I think this is as good an example as any for you all to realise and remember just how accomplished you have all become and not find yourselves in a state of hopeless despair coming into the exam period. Miss McGonagall," he rounded on her, "would you like to try your hand against me? Or return to your seat victorious?"
"How can I emerge victorious if I have not defeated everyone?" she asked smoothly and quirked an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards.
"Very well, then." He said, his eyes twinkling again, and shrugged off his teaching robe, draped it over the back of his chair and pushed up his sleeves.
Minerva tucked her hair behind her ears and flicked her wand testily; ready and waiting.
While they had been distracted by the rare opportunity to work their magic freely Dumbledore had been able to appreciate each of his student's individual styles. Augusta Wallis obviously practised with Minerva and Miss Jones but was more direct in her approach than Ivy; who had a wonderful note of abstract in her thinking. He could notice Aster Searle's rigid and bookish theory in his wand work which was not dissimilar to Marcus Kettleburn's tendency to forge ahead in the most straightforward fashion that he could muster. Sterling Barrett was quick to find the easiest solution and twist the concept to his own methodology; which was a practice shared by Mr Longbottom though Walter worked it with a more mischievous flair. Xavier Carmichael had perfected the art of flashy simplicity that would be of little use outside of the classroom but Minerva… Minerva shone. From her movement to her thinking she was elegant and polished; effortless.
He conjured up a small table between them and set down the feather. Everyone had huddled in a semicircle around them. Augusta and Ivy were stationed loyally to Minerva's right while the other Ravenclaw boys had allied themselves with Dumbledore. Walter and Sterling were arguing in low tones, caught in the middle, before Dumbledore thought he saw silver change hands and Sterling stood by the girls while Walter moved behind Dumbledore.
"When you're ready, Miss McGonagall." He prompted, watching her closely.
Her eyes were darting back and forth between two imaginary points somewhere in front of her face before they glazed over for a moment and she twitched her mouth from side to side as if deciding something. This was somewhat familiar to Albus as he'd watched the same facial expressions several times a day while Minerva had been in the hospital wing and usually appeared while the chess set had been between them. It meant she was thinking, but more importantly, it meant that she was thinking a dozen steps ahead and contemplating every outcome. She was going to try and force his hand.
Readjusting her grip, she pointed her wand with a steady hand and the feather wound itself into a sparkling water goblet.
But she had no time to congratulate herself, Dumbledore had moved with a gentle flourish and a silver dagger with a heavy, ruby pommel rocked slightly on the wood. Minerva swallowed, thinking quickly and made a small, slashing stroke with her wand before drawing up her arm like she was lifting a marionette; a glittering golden necklace snaking its way through the air. Before she could blink the necklace was slithering its way across the desk; the golden lancehead poked its angular head into the air.
Ivy shrieked and jumped behind Sterling, who had already fallen over his feet to get behind Augusta, but Minerva did not flinch. With the smallest twitch the snake had frozen into a thick, gnarled branch and she looked up at Albus expectantly. There were two obvious moves now. He could morph the wood into stone or he could jump at the bait and-
In a measured stroke of absolute confidence Dumbledore had replaced the branch with a whirlwind of perfectly contained fire.
She shot him a magnificently self-satisfied smile over the flames, her eyes dancing in the firelight, and Albus felt his brain shift gears as he tried to figure out why. He did not need to wait long.
Minerva moved closer to the flames. With her left hand she reached towards the heart of the fire like she was sculpting clay, seemingly impervious to the heat, while her wand fought against the licking flames until they slowed and stood still. She hummed a sweet sound deep in her throat and withdrew her hand as the frozen flames seemed to melt away to reveal a rather simple wooden box. She tapped it gently and the grain seemed to flood with rich mahogany.
Dumbledore stepped up to the table feeling intensely suspicious.
"You've already used wood." He said cautiously.
"You should open it." She retorted smugly. Her collar was sooty and her forehead was shining and Dumbledore was reminded of the familiar sensation of walking into one of Minerva's traps.
Albus reached for the box. It was no bigger than a snuff box but felt warm to the touch and the moment he shifted the lid he knew exactly what she had done.
An all too comforting warmth blossomed in his chest along with the gentle rising and falling intonation of a familiar song; Fawkes' song.
"How did you do that, Minerva?" Augusta asked curiously, looking at Ivy as if she might have an idea but Ivy paid her no attention. She was touching at her collarbone cautiously; wondering how she seemed to have swallowed the liquid warmth that was surely spreading through her chest.
"She knew it was a phoenix feather," Dumbledore answered, he had opened the music box entirely and touched at the red silk lining; tracing the golden outline of a phoenix in flight with the tip of his finger, "didn't you?" he asked with wondrous amusement, looking at her over the top of his spectacles and gently let the lid fall shut.
She smiled sheepishly.
"That was very clever." He whispered in her ear before turning back to the class as the bell signalled the end of class, "Quickly or Professor Beery will be want to slip an ashwinder in my office again." He ushered them for the door.
"Miss McGonagall." he called at her retreating back. She looked over her shoulder and blinked politely in expectation, her hand on the door. He swallowed several times, not quite sure why he had called her back.
"Very… very well done." He said finally.
She flashed him a glorious smile that struck him somewhere around the middle and disappeared around the door, leaving the room significantly darker than before.
Albus turned the music box over in his hand and stared at the space where she had vanished.