Minerva took a deep breath and called into the all but empty classroom. "Professor?"

Albus Dumbledore looked up from his desk and the papers he was grading. Standing in just outside his doorway, peering inside was Minerva McGonagall, her long black hair in a pull back and standing, he noticed for the first time, a good inch and a half taller than she had when she'd left Hogwarts last year for the summer.

He smiled. "What is it you need, my dear girl?"

"Well, Professor," she began, walking into the classroom and up toward his desk, "honestly I came to ask you for a rather large favor."

Albus was intrigued. This was not the sort of girl who asked for favors or help of any kind. He wondered how big this favor would be and how much, despite Minerva's proud, straight bearing as she walked toward him, asking him to help her might be bothering her.

"What favor is this?"

"I want to become an animagus, Professor, and you're the best person I know of to help me," she stated resolutely. Clearly she'd thought about this request for some time.

Albus Dumbledore was not accustomed to being surprised by the actions of other people, especially not thirteen year old girls. The one standing in front of him, however, the student he favored the most and whom he felt he should have been best able to predict the behavior of, had just done exactly that. He was silent for a few moments, collecting his scattered thoughts.

"That is a very unusual request from a third year student," he told her.

"I know."

"Most people do not become animagi until well into adulthood."

She nodded. She knew that it was a complicated, hard process. She also knew that both she and Professor Dumbledore knew she could do it now, if she just had the right teacher. Professor Dumbledore was quite obviously the man for the job. She'd never met a wizard more powerful than he. Even her own father, a wizard of some distinguishment, could not compare. She'd wanted to become an animagi for simply years—ever since she'd read about them in a book at eight years old—and she knew that Professor Dumbledore could help her to do that right now. All he needed to do was agree.

All of this seemed to have occurred to Professor Dumbledore as well. She could feel as well as see his intense blue eyes considering her carefully. She held her breath. She knew he had confidence in her. She knew that she was his personal "protege" as people called her but she did not know if he would agree to do this for her now, or tell her that she needed to wait a few more years.

A small sigh escaped his lips and Minerva knew that he was at least not going to simply dismiss her request and send her away.

"What do your parents think of this? I cannot imagine your mother would approve. I seem to remember her worrying about everything in her school days . . . I do not imagine that has changed, especially where her children are concerned."

Minerva did her best not to gape at her professor. He'd taught her mother? But that would make him at least sixty. She knew it was quite possible for him to be that old, but . . . he did not act that old.

He doesn't look it, either, she thought, scanning his face for small, telltale signs of his age. She found a few, but his age was still not readily apparent.

Again his ability to seemingly read her mind showed itself. She'd become very used to Professor Dumbledore over the last two years and in fact felt great affection toward him but

that . . . talent, or whatever it was, never failed to surprise her. On occasion she even found it slightly unsettling.

"I am far older than I seem, I promise you." He smiled. "However, I do not wish to detract from the matter at hand. I cannot help you to become an animagus if your parents disapprove."

"My mother will hate it," she promised him, "but it doesn't really matter what she says if father says yes. He'll convince her."

He always does, she thought.

"I see that you have not asked then."

Minerva nodded curtly. "I didn't see the point if you said 'no.' My mother and I get along badly enough as it is."

"I see," said Professor Dumbledore with a slight nod. He pinned her with a crystal blue stare. "So then the question is, will I do it?"

Minerva stood rooted to her spot on the floor and held her breath in anticipation. Professor Dumbledore's eyes bored into her, evaluating her. She held her own gaze steady. She was staring right into his eyes for what seemed like hours. For a moment the silly thought that his eyes were very pretty crossed her mind, but it was pushed away nearly instantly by her anticipation of his response.

"If," he began, "your parents allow it, I will help you."

Minerva felt a smile bloom on her lips. She could not be happier.

"However, I must warn you: becoming an animagus is very difficult. There is a reason that there are only five registered animagi right now and that all of them waited until they'd reached adulthood to become animagi. That said, however," Professor Dumbledore's eyes took on a look that Minerva only saw when he spoke to her as her mentor, "you are quite capable of doing this. It will likely take you three or four years to do it but you will succeed. You have an extraordinary knack for transfiguration and you are more dedicated than one is used to seeing in a student—especially one so talented. I often find that the more impressive a student is, the lazier they become."

Minerva felt a warm rush of pride as he told her these things. It was true that Professor Dumbledore was never unwilling to give her praise but it always felt nice to hear him say it. She respected Professor Dumbledore greatly and compliments from him meant more to her than did many. Barring a compliment from her father or older brother, who were both affectionate enough though somewhat critical, there was nothing better.

It suddenly struck her that becoming an animagus at all, much less so young, could gain her very vocal approval from both of those family members. A sense of excitement began to pulse through her. "I promise you I will be working very hard on this, Professor."

"My dear, I have no doubt about that."

"When can we start?" she asked, and for the first time since the conversation had started Minerva's emotions began to show on her young face.

"I daresay that we may begin as soon as I have received notification of your parents' approval."

/E/E/E/E/E/

"Have you gotten it yet?"

"It's been five minutes," Minerva admonished Hermes. "And you will be more than able to see when the mail comes. You know what it looks like. It's a load of owls. They go flying across the hall to find people and deliver things. Edwin is always right behind them, bearing no package or letter but wanting to see where all the other owls are going and following them, crashing into any number of things on the way. Isn't that right, Dan?"

She turned very seriously toward Dan Weasley, her face betraying none of her teasing. To all the world it could easily appear that Minerva McGonagall was being completely serious. Dan turned scarlet at her words, clashing with his hair—which, though it technically might have been described as something like strawberry blonde, was in all actuality quite orange. His owl was daft to the point that one could say it had insect-like intelligence and it very well might be insulting to the insects of the world.

Hermes snickered. "You should give up on that owl and just go claim Minerva's cat. Then the two of you really would be a set."

While it probably would have sounded outrageously silly to most people, Hermes was quite accurate in his description of Dan and Minerva's cat, Kiril. They had matching color schemes—orange hair, or fur in Kiril's case and bluish-yellow eyes. This worked well for both of them. Dan had taken a great liking to Kiril, as he did to many orange things, when Minerva had first brought him with her to Hogwarts as a kitten. It was always funny to see them traipsing about the Gryffindor common room together, Kiril laid across Dan broad shoulders looking down as the rest of the world and purring contentedly.

"He's got a good plan there, mate," Malcolm agreed.

"I think I'll keep my cat, thank you," Minerva told them both.

"Are they bothering you about your kitty again, Minerva?"

"Of course they are," Minerva responded. She turned to face the possessor of the voice, a Ravenclaw prefect with whom she considered herself to be quite good friends. "Sit with us, Muriel."

Muriel glanced first at the Ravenclaw table and then at Dan, who was still red faced and currently very occupied with his plate of eggs. Minerva happened to know that Muriel had fancied Dan for at least the past two years. He was too daft to notice, though. Especially not while he was still pining after that dream girl of his, one of his fellow Gryffindor prefects, Rose Meade. Minerva suspected that he had a thing for red heads, he was in love with some writer or another who also had flaming hair like Rose's.

"All right," she sighed fakely. "I suppose someone has to protect you from these bullies."

"What!" Hermes shrieked indignantly. "We were joking around! Jesus Christ . . ."

Minerva fought the urge to shake her head. Hermes was also quite oblivious to Muriel's crush on Dan. What seemed incredibly obvious to Minerva was way above both boys' head. She honestly wondered how they could both be so dumb.

"So was I!" responded Muriel instantaneously, green eyes wide. There was an amazing look of innocence about her at times like this, though Minerva was by no means fooled. Muriel was her greatest source of advice in this school. She was almost like an older sister—a proper older sister.

Hermes sighed and rolled his eyes. Deciding not to say anything, he instead began to concentrate on his toast, inhaling it as quickly as he could. It amazed Minerva that someone as tiny as that could eat so much. Minerva was quite tall, she knew, but she still out-heighted Hermes by about three or four inches. It made him one hell of a seeker though. He'd missed the snitch once in all of the games that Minerva had seen or participated in here at Hogwarts.

"So, have you been studying for your O.W.L.s a lot?" Minerva asked Muriel, by way of making conversation. Malcolm looked up from his plate and began paying her very rapt attention.

"Well," Muriel began, but what she was planning on saying Minerva did not find out. Instead whatever she had been planning on saying was replaced with a gleeful cry of, "Mail's here!"

Hermes, Dan, Malcolm and Minerva all looked up as one to the flood of birds that poured into the great Hall. Minerva began to scan quickly through the hundred of owls that circled against the ceiling of the Great Hall, which was foreboding and grey, looking for the McGonagall family owl. Her parents had sent their response to her request for permission to become an animagus and it should be arriving that day. Her brother had been by Hogwarts to consult one of the teachers about ancient curses only yesterday and had told her as much. Ever since then, Minerva and her friends had been eagerly awaiting the nest morning's mail.

"There he is," said Hermes, jumping up eagerly from the table and pointing at a rather handsome screech owl.

Malcolm stared up at where he was pointed for a few seconds, lazily rubbing the rather healthy looking blonde goatee he was growing. His eyes then fell on a large eagle owl which seemed to be flopping through the air towards the table. "There's Edwin right behind him."

Hermes laughed loudly at the owl as Dan groaned and stood up, preparing to catch the owl in the air. Dan had learned early on in his Hogwarts career, according to his own account of this, that this was a completely necessary measure, or the entirety of the Gryffindor table could be cleared of its food by his idiot owl.

The screech owl landed near Minerva and proffered her its leg, upon which was attached a roll of parchment. Malcolm cleared her book from where it sat propped up against a dish of fruit as she untied the parchment, setting it with care in her bag. Malcolm shared Minerva's studious bent and often put away her books for her when she was otherwise occupied. Hermes thought that they were both quite mad.

She gave the owl a few short, unconscious pats on its feathery head and quickly unrolled the parchment. She read the letter as quickly as she could, eager have it affirmed that her father had come through for her and made her whims a possibility yet again.

My sweet Minerva,

After much argument and persuasion, I have convinced your mother that allowing Professor Dumbledore to help you become an Animagus is both a good idea and preferable to you doing it by yourself a few years down the line. As such, I've enclosed a note of permission with this letter, so that your professor can be assured of our approval. I assume you will be beginning with all haste. I have never known you to be at all patient.

Have fun, Poppet.

With love,

Your Father

"Is that it?"

Minerva looked up and saw Odin Pike, a fifth year Slytherin beater, lumbering up toward their group. He was a good friend of Dan's and though he could be something of a prat from time to time Minerva found him to be quite tolerable and even, at times, pleasant despite his Slytherin status. He had no real loyalties to his house and as he was such a large fellow that no one challenged him.

"It is," she told him.

"And? And?" Hermes was suddenly reminding her of Senora Spectacular's Bouncing Bubbles. "What's it say?"

"Well, it says yes, obviously," said Malcolm, who'd just glanced over Minerva's shoulder. "Just like Minerva's been telling us it would." Here he graced Minerva with a rather impressive smile. Minerva returned a small one of her own. Malcolm never failed to support all of Minerva's endeavors or have anything but the greatest confidence that she would succeed. She didn't quite understand it, but she valued his opinion enough to be grateful to have his confidence. In some ways they were two of a kind.

"Golly gee, this is exciting," piped up Hermes. Minerva's companions laughed. Hermes liked imitating the way muggle children of their age spoke. He thought it was quite silly. Minerva agreed, but thought it no less silly when Hermes imitated them. She did not laugh.

"I wonder what kind of animagus you'll be, Minerva," Muriel wondered aloud.

Dan piped up immediately. "Ten gallions says she's a cat." He scrutinized her for a moment. "She's always seemed very cat-like. Especially when she yawns. You guy ever seen her yawn?"

"Minerva yawns?" Hermes questioned, then laughed.

"I hope she's something big like a bear," Odin voiced. "It'd be quite funny, some skinny little girl like her turning into a massive bear at will. Think of how it would scare the first years." An evil glint had appeared in Odin's eye.

Minerva shot him a disapproving glare. She would be scaring no one with her animagus form—no other students at least. It was a highly improper idea as well as against at least the spirit of the school's rules.

A rather animated discussion about Minerva's becoming an animagus sprang up quickly, and soon much of the Gryffindor table had joined in. Minerva could feel her excitement for the task swelling up inside of her, as well as a lot of expectation being piled on her shoulder's. No one doubted that Dumbledore's favorite could do this. She supposed this should have made her very nervous. Perhaps later it would, but right now all it did was strengthen her resolve to do it and increase her anticipation of the sheer challenge this presented.

This was an amazing thing. She'd wanted to do this for so long and now she was finally doing it. Five years she'd waited to start the process and now here it finally was: the beginning of her long road. Best of all, Professor Dumbledore would be right there, traveling along side her. She could think of no one better with whom could spend the hours upon end that this would require. Even before now she knew that she'd spent more time with him than any other student, as he took time out of his busy schedules for the specific purpose of teaching her things that he felt she was ready for but her classmates were not. That had been a handful of times throughout the year. Now all of the sudden her time with him would increase tenfold.

She felt a warm sensation build in her at the thought and looked up at Professor Dumbledore at his place at the staff table. He did not look at her, or notice even out of the corner of his eye that she was looking at him. He seemed to be deep into some sort of conversation with Professor Merrythought.

For the first time without him doing so first, Minerva smiled at him.