Author's Note: The prompt was "Pressure".

The classroom emptied, a stream of students dressed in black heading out for lunch. One desk, in the middle of a cluster, was still occupied as the clattering sound of feet on stone died down. Amelia Bones desperately scribbled on her parchment, her knuckles white as she gripped her quill. She had finished her Transfiguration essay last night but, after reading some of her friends', she wasn't prepared to hand it in like this. Not noticing all her classmates leaving, she added notes in the margin and foot notes at the end, thinking of anything that might improve her mark. It wasn't an important grade, but still, she was Amelia Bones; she couldn't be struggling.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you for your essay, Miss Bones," the scottish lilt of Professor McGonagall said from behind her.

Amelia spun around in her chair, her grey eyes pleading with the blue ones of her teacher.

"Please, Professor," she said, "I know I could make it so much better."

The blue eyes were unyielding.

"I'm sorry," McGonagall said, "but it would be unfair on your fellow students, if I gave you extra time."

Amelia's shoulders sagged and McGonagall's expression softened a little.

"If there are improvements to be made, I will suggest them," she said, "You needn't be worrying; exams are still months away."

Amelia nodded, but felt sure she was going to need more than months to improve her current Transfiguration performance. From the very first lesson of the year, Amelia had been finding the subject hard. N.E.W.T level was a big jump from what she done last year and she needed good grades; the Auror Office only accepted the best for training. She had to be the best. Normally, she was one of the top people in her class. She didn't have difficulty, which made it evener harder to cope with now. She had to win, to come first; people were expecting it of her. She was expecting it of herself.

"Can I help you with anything, Miss Bones?" the professor asked quietly.

The words were innocent enough, but her tone was knowing, as if she could see the inner struggles of her student. Amelia, who had been packing up her things, let her stack of books slam against the table.

"Unless there's a spell to transfigure the entire syllabus into my brain," she sighed, "I don't think there's anything to be done."

McGonagall pulled a chair over to the girl and sat down. Even seated, she was quite a bit taller, though their age gap was not massive, only about a decade and a half or so. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, then replaced the spectacles on her nose.

"You're finding this year challenging," the older witch said, "I can see that."

"I'm not sure if you do," Amelia said, in a cold manner that normally she wouldn't have dared to use with the formidable Transfiguration mistress.

McGonagall looked at her, not angrily, simply as a scientist might examine an interesting specimen.

"It may surprise you," McGonagall said dryly, though not unpleasantly "but I have learnt a few things about students during my time as a teacher."

"And, believe it or not, I was once a student myself," she added.

It wasn't that easy to believe, at least not for Amelia. She couldn't see the strict, straight-laced McGonagall sitting in the back row, giggling with her friends, stressing over assignments. The woman always seemed like, well, a woman; but of course she must've been a child a some point. It just hadn't occurred to Amelia before.

"You want to be an Auror," McGonagall said, her voice holding a hint of approval, "that's commendable and I've no doubt you can do it. You're bright, although right now you're under a lot of pressure. But pressure can make diamonds."

"And if you put enough pressure on said diamond," Amelia said, "it will shatter into a million pieces."

"There is a fine line, I admit," McGonagall said with a quiet laugh.

She sighed when the girl didn't share her smile.

"I understand it better than you think," the witch said, almost bitterly, "I know what it's like to be 'that smart kid'. Everyone says how lucky we are, how easy it must be. But all the time we're waiting for something to break. We get to the top and it's no big deal, because that's where we are expected to be. But if we make one mistake, one, human mistake, they will hold it against us, like we did something wrong."

There was a definite bitterness in her voice as she finished that speech. It was a display of emotion that Amelia was not accustomed to, not from this person. And the message, if she was honest, didn't sound particularly reassuring.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Amelia asked.

McGonagall gave a non-committal shrug.

"It's the truth," she said, "I could tell you mass upon mass of pretty lies, but I don't believe that would make you feel any better either."

Amelia nodded and hung her head. Her teacher, spun her chair around, so that it was directly facing her.

"Listen, Amelia Bones," McGonagall said, "You are not going to be good at everything. You are going to struggle, you are going to make mistakes. But that's okay. You are allowed to not always get it right, no matter what people say or what you tell yourself. It is not weakness to have weaknesses; over coming them is what will make you strong."

For the first time, Amelia smiled. She appreciated the effort that had gone into it.

"Does that help?" McGonagall said rather nervously.

Amelia nodded.

"Yes, I think so."

"Good," the professor said with a sigh of relief, "because I've got a budget for inspirational speeches and I think I just used it up."

"I'm sorry," Amelia laughed.

"It's alright," McGonagall smiled, "What are teachers here for, if not to instill self-belief in their students?"

Amelia grinned and then picked up her books. She rose and started to head for the door.

"Thank you, Professor," she said before she left, "you're a lot cooler than you first seem."

"I'm not sure how to take that," McGonagall said with good humour, "but thank you, Miss Bones."

Amelia nodded one last goodbye and then headed off to join her friends for lunch. Sitting at her seat in the Great Hall, she watched the Transfiguration teacher take her own seat among her own friends and for the first time wondered what kind of pressure the woman was under. She certainly seemed to understand. But, thinking back on her words, Amelia could only conclude that whatever pressure it was, it was making diamonds.