Two weeks later, Professor McGonagall was standing in front of her sixth-year N.E.W.T. students, demonstrating the technique for Transfiguring a living creature—in this case a newt, as it happened—into another species, when she suddenly dropped the newt to the floor and ran out of the room.

Possibly the only person more astonished than her students was the fifth-year Gryffindor who was washing her hands at the sink in the girls' toilet when Professor McGonagall came barrelling in. McGonagall raced into a cubicle and slammed the door without a word. The girl heard retching and froze in shock. She didn't know whether to wait to see if the professor was all right or to slink out quietly and avoid her teacher's wrath at having her privacy invaded, however inadvertently. The child's Gryffindor courage failed her. She left.

When Professor McGonagall re-entered the classroom a few minutes later, she found the students milling about and chatting with one another. "That will do," she said sharply. "Take your seats. I do not recall giving anyone permission to leave them. Miss Rattigan, will you please retrieve a new newt from the box on the table?"

She said nothing about the strange interruption in the class.

Of course, Professor McGonagall's odd behaviour was the talk of the common rooms that evening.

"Maybe she's transformed too many times," said one Gryffindor. "Gone 'round the twist …"

"Yeah, or maybe she saw a mouse and just couldn't resist," quipped another.

More joking speculation ensued until Nigella Starsgaard, the fifth-year who had been in the lavatory, spoke up. "I think maybe she was just ill. I saw her in the girls' toilet, and I think she was sicking up."

"As in, puking?" asked Ian Robinson.

"Yes, if you insist on putting it that way."

"She looked fine when she came back to the classroom," said Deirdre Rattigan, she of the newt retrieval.

"Hey, maybe she's up the duff," Ian said, to the uproarious laughter of the gathered Gryffindors.

Molly Prewett slammed the book she'd been reading shut with a sharp crack!

"Ian Robinson, that is just revolting! If I ever hear you say something like that about Professor McGonagall again, I'll hex your bollocks into next year!" she yelled and stormed off into the dormitory.

"Oi, mate, what's got into your girlfriend?" Ian said to Arthur Weasley, who just shrugged.

Arthur hadn't the vaguest idea, but he decided he wouldn't ask her about it. It wasn't a good idea to get Molly too upset. She had a temper and wasn't afraid to use her wand to back it up. Besides, he thought, he had just got to cop a feel of her enticing bosom after weeks of trying, and he wasn't eager to muck things up at this delicate stage of negotiations.

~oOo~

The same evening, Minerva was in Albus's office discussing some scheduling matters. They had just wrapped up, and she was shutting her agenda when he said, "I hear there was a disturbance in your N.E.W.T. class this afternoon."

"Gods! Just the bloody nausea rearing its ugly head again. It was over quickly, but it gave me a jolt."

"Gave your class something to talk about, as well."

She placed her hands on her middle. "I suppose we ought to make the announcement soon. I'm starting to show."

"I think we should plan on telling the staff at Wednesday's meeting. That will give me a chance to speak to Filius tomorrow. Would that be acceptable to you?"

"Yes, fine. What do you plan to say?"

"Only that our lovely Transfiguration professor has got herself in the pudding club," he said merrily. The next moment, he found himself covered with large white feathers, sporting a beak and a coxcomb. She let him strut and cluck around the office for a minute before she Transfigured him back.

""A rooster, really?" he said, picking a feather from his robes. "I thought canaries were more your speciality."

"I thought cock o' the walk more appropriate to the situation," she said.

~oOo~

On Wednesday afternoon, the staff were gathered around a large table in the staff room. They had just concluded the business of the meeting when the Headmaster said, "Before we adjourn, I have one more item to mention."

The rest of the staff looked around nervously. Whatever it was, it wasn't on the agenda he had sent around.

Dumbledore rose and stood behind Minerva, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Minerva is expecting a baby."

The momentary silence was broken with a hearty round of congratulations. Albus was patted on the back by most of the male staff, while Minerva had to submit to Charity Burbage placing a gnarled hand on her belly and numerous assurances from Perpetua Fancourt that she looked "radiant, dear."

Minerva caught Poppy's eye with a pleading look, and the mediwitch hurried over to her, saying, "All right, all right, don't crowd the pregnant woman, give her some air." Minerva kicked her in the ankle.

Albus recalled their attention. "Thank you all for your good wishes. Minerva and I are very pleased. I need not tell you that this is privileged information for the moment, so we would appreciate your keeping it to yourselves. We expect the baby sometime around mid-January. Filius has kindly agreed to take over some of Minerva's administrative duties for a few weeks after the child is born, and I intend to find a temporary replacement to teach her first- through fifth-years. I will take her N.E.W.T. classes until she is ready to return to the classroom."

After the meeting, Albus came to Minerva's quarters rather than returning to his office.

"That went rather well, I think," he said.

"You didn't have Charity running her spotty hand up and down your belly, though," said Minerva.

He went to her and pulled her blouse from under the now-expanded waistband of her skirt to expose her abdomen and ran his hands gently over its newly convex surface. He knelt to kiss it, and she held his head to her for a moment, enjoying the warmth of his breath on her skin and the slight tickle of his beard.

"You do look beautiful, you know," he murmured, "with your belly full of my child."

Merlin, how she loved him at that moment.