4. Accidents
The first-years' excitement about school had waned somewhat now that they had got to know all of their regular subjects and had discovered that most of them very actually hard work. But everyone was again tremendously excited when the notice board informed them that their first flying lesson was coming up.
They gathered in the school courtyard and watched as Madam Hooch strode briskly towards them. She was a very young witch, compared to all their other teachers, but she had almost hawk-like, yellowish eyes that were as sharp as her voice. If anyone had thought that she wouldn't be strict because she hadn't been teaching for long, they had been sorely mistaken.
"I know that some of you will have already flown on a broom before while others have never had the chance. But I don't care if you fancy yourself the next Quidditch sensation to bring home the World Cup for England. In my class you will do as I say, and we will all start with the basics. Flying is not just a sport. It can be very dangerous. If you value your life, I suggest you start paying attention!"
Tara O'Connor from Hufflepuff, who had been blankly staring into space, jumped guiltily.
Minerva didn't need to be told twice. She was a little nervous. She was as curious about flying as her classmates, but she had never really done it before. No matter how often Junior and Malcolm had begged her to steal their mother's old broom and sneak off to the woods with it. It had been too great a risk that they would be seen. There was no explaining away a flying broomstick.
As Madam Hooch had promised, they started with the basics. Much to some of the boys' dismay they only got acquainted with their school brooms, learned to command them to jump up into their waiting hands and eventually to push off the ground to hover a little. Even that ended with a couple of bleeding noses and shins. Minerva understood why Madam Hooch proceeded with such caution.
In their third lesson they were finally allowed to do some actual flying. Only two students at a time and they were only to circle around the courtyard. Duncan went first and he hadn't been lying about already knowing how to fly, no matter whether his parents would buy him that racing broom or not.
When it was Minerva's and Augusta's turn, they positioned themselves next to their brooms and said, "Up!"
Both of their brooms shot up into their hands immediately, and they grinned at each other. They mounted their brooms and upon Madam Hooch's whistle pushed off the ground. Minerva had been worried that she might feel like she could slide off her broom any second, but once she was truly up in the air, there was no trace of fear. It was a wonderful feeling to be soaring through the air like this and every time her broom reacted to her touch, she cheered inside.
She began to circle a little faster and a little wider because she figured that Madam Hooch would blow her whistle if she did something wrong. Minerva was flying close to the castle walls and she spotted a familiar face through one of the windows. She had to be as high up as Professor Dumbledore's study because he was sitting at a desk, marking essays. He looked up when he noticed her hovering there. Minerva waved at him and quickly returned to the ground when Madam Hooch whistled.
Tara and Alison were next. Tara managed to call her broom to her, but Alison's broom was bucking and writhing on the ground almost like a horse. Alison's voice rose higher and higher as she got even more desperate to control her broom. Her frantic commands were ringing in Minerva's ears when Alison's broom suddenly began to move. Instead of shooting up into Alison's waiting hand, it shot straight at Minerva, who had no time to duck, and the tip of the broom hit her right in the eye.
She screamed when her face exploded with pain. She could no longer see anything other than a red tinge through her left eye. Shaking vigorously and feeling helpless, Minerva raised her hands to her face.
"Don't touch it!" Madam Hooch bellowed at her and grabbed her wrists. "You need to go to the hospital wing. And you better come, too, you're a bloody safety hazard!" Minerva assumed that she was talking to Alison, who let out a sob. "The rest of you, don't move until I get back!"
Madam Hooch wrapped an arm around Minerva and gently steered her back inside the castle and up to the hospital wing. The matron, Madam Hailstone, greeted them right away.
"Oh dear! Another flying accident? I don't understand why we keep teaching students to do this," she muttered while she ushered Minerva over to a bed.
"For the same reason we keep teaching them how to brew poisonous potions, tend to dangerous plants or defend themselves against the Dark Arts," Madam Hooch shot back.
"Yes, well, those things can't be helped. But there are other ways to get from A to B, aren't there?" Madam Hailstone countered and began to gently prod Minerva's eye. A blinding pain shot through her skull (quite literally) and she winced, wishing the matron would stop touching her.
Madam Hooch sounded as though she had swallowed something nasty. "Will she be okay?"
"Yes, yes, just leave it to me," Madam Hailstone replied distractedly.
"You stay here until I've spoken to your Head of House," Hooch said to Alison and then she was off.
Alison still sobbed quietly, but Minerva had a hard time focusing through the fog of pain in her head.
"Drink this, my dear." Madam Hailstone held a steaming goblet right up to Minerva's lips and helped her drink some of it.
She must have blacked out immediately because when she came to again, she was lying down. The pain in her head had receded to a dull throbbing and when she opened her eyes, she could actually see again. Some shapes were still a little blurred, but it was loads better than before.
"Just give it some time. Tomorrow everything will be back to normal," Madam Hailstone assured her.
Minerva breathed a sigh of relief and sat up in her hospital bed, noticing Alison for the first time. She was sitting next to her bed and looked relieved, too.
"I'm sorry, Minerva," she said. "I don't know why these accidents keep happening around me."
"I did lots of accidental magic, too, before I came to Hogwarts," Minerva tried to cheer her up. Now that she knew that she wasn't blinded for life, she wasn't angry at Alison anymore.
"But you haven't been setting people on fire or poking their eyes out, have you?" Alison asked sadly.
"Er, no," Minerva had to admit. "But you heard Madam Hailstone. Stuff like this always happens during flying lessons."
Alison sniffed and stared at her hands. "It's not just the accidents. I'm rubbish in class, too. I'm scared that… I think they might kick me out."
"They wouldn't do that!" Minerva said quickly. "Professor Dumbledore wouldn't do that!"
"I don't think he likes me much. The only time I managed to make my match look anything like a needle was when I sent it flying straight up his nose. He only just managed to make it vanish."
Minerva tried very hard not to snigger. "So what? He doesn't take these things personally."
"Maybe not with you, but…" Alison broke off rather abruptly when the doors to the hospital wing opened and it was Professor Dumbledore who entered.
Alison jumped to her feet and started telling him how terribly sorry she was, but he held up a hand to stop her. "Thank you for telling me that, Miss Quinn. Now, would you be so kind to go to my office and wait for me there? I'd like a word with Miss McGonagall, but I will be along shortly. Feel free to help yourself to a couple of acid pops. But be careful. I had one that burned a hole right through my tongue the other day," he told her not unkindly.
Alison nodded and shuffled away.
Professor Dumbledore turned his blue eyes on Minerva. "How are you?"
"I'm okay, Professor." It seemed to be the safest answer in order not to get Alison into any more trouble.
"Hmm," said Professor Dumbledore, giving no indication as to whether he believed her or not.
Which made Minerva think of something. "Professor, could you perhaps not tell my parents about this? I was rather hoping to persuade them to let me play Quidditch next year."
Dumbledore raised a brow. "Wasn't this only your third flying lesson?"
"So?" Minerva asked defiantly.
Professor Dumbledore merely smiled softly, but he said, "It's quite out of the question that your parents don't hear about this." Minerva had been afraid he would say that. She knew that the Heads of House were obligated to inform the parents if students got hurt while under their care at Hogwarts. Even if by the time the owl reached them, all was most likely well again.
"I will, however, make you a deal," Dumbledore continued. "I won't tell them as long as you do."
"I will. Thank you, sir," Minerva gladly accepted because anything was better than an official letter from Hogwarts. Feeling like she might get away with another question, she asked, "What's wrong with Alison?"
Professor Dumbledore considered his answer for a moment. "There is nothing 'wrong' with Miss Quinn. However, her magic appears to be very unstable and unfocused."
"Why?"
"Unfortunately, there's a lot we still don't know about how our magic works. While some of us have been known to teach their cuddly toys to dance ballet while still in their crib, others need the longest time to learn the easiest spells. The only thing wrong with that is that we often lack the necessary patience to deal with it."
"Did you teach ballet dancing to your toys when you were a baby, Professor?" Minerva asked, grinning.
Dumbledore chuckled. "It was merely an example. I much prefer chamber music."
Minerva giggled, but then she thought of Alison again. "What's going to happen to her?"
"There's no need for you to worry about that. Your only job right now is to focus on getting well," Dumbledore replied and got ready to leave.
That sounded like an answer adults gave to their children when they wanted to hide that something bad was happening behind their backs. Minerva scooted to the edge of her bed. "Please, don't expel her! It wasn't her fault and it didn't even hurt!"
Dumbledore stopped to look at her again. "It is admirable that you wish to protect Miss Quinn, but I must ask you not to lie to me," he said quietly but without any trace of his usual humour.
Surprised, Minerva gaped at her teacher. She wondered if he could really tell when someone was lying to him or if he had just assumed that getting your eye punctured by a splinter from an out-of-control broomstick had to hurt. To err on the side of caution, all she said was, "Yes, sir."
"Very well, I'll be leaving you to your recuperating then," Dumbledore said with a smile that eased some of Minerva's trepidation.
"I feel better already," she dared to point out. "I would like to go back to class, Professor."
"Madam Hailstone wants you to stay the night. I'm sure your classmates will take notes for you."
"Please, sir? Professor Slughorn said we'd be starting on the Forgetfulness Potion today and he hinted that it will be part of our exams at the end of the year."
Dumbledore shook his head. "This is out of my hands, I'm afraid."
"Couldn't you overrule Madam Hailstone?"
"Oh no, I really couldn't. You see, the next time I get sick, I'll need her to still be on my good side," Dumbledore told her.
Minerva hung her head. "I understand, Professor."
She expected Professor Dumbledore to leave now, but he looked at her for a moment longer. "Here, perhaps you'll find this interesting while you rest." He flicked his wand and handed her a magazine that had appeared out of thin air. According to the title on the cover it was called Transfiguration Today.
Her eyes wide, Minerva accepted it. "Thank you, sir."
"Don't tell Madam Hailstone," Professor Dumbledore winked at her and left.
Two days later Minerva was back in the Gryffindor common room, sitting in a nice armchair by the fire with Drew's cat purring in her lap. Alison sat in the chair across from her and told her how she had talked to Professor Dumbledore, her parents and even the headmaster, and they had decided to wait until Christmas to see if her performance would improve.
"What if it doesn't?" Minerva asked cautiously.
Alison shrugged. "Not sure, but Dumbledore suggested that I could start over again next year."
The thought of having to repeat her first year was quite horrifying to Minerva and Alison seemed to guess as much.
"I'm just glad they're not kicking me out yet," she explained.
"Told you they wouldn't," Minerva replied, completely convinced that Professor Dumbledore had been the one who had argued for giving Alison more time. "I could help you keep up in class. Or I could try anyway."
"That would be great, thanks!" Alison grinned, but her expression froze when a couple of third-years approached them.
Among them was the boy who had teased Minerva on her very first morning here in Hogwarts. By now she had learned that his name was Parker Precourt, but she had tried to stay out of his way whenever she could. It was too late for that now.
"Hey, get out of my chair, you little Squib!" Parker said to Alison, and he spoke with such a loud voice that the whole common room heard him.
Alison's face was as red as tomato. "I'm not a Squib!"
"Right. You're even worse. You're practically a Muggle, a stinking, little Muggle," Parker sneered and laughed.
Furious, Minerva got up, making Drew's cat hiss as she landed by her feet. "Take that back!" she demanded.
"What's it to you?" Parker asked, frowning. "Ah, but with that last name I don't even have to ask. You're practically a Muggle yourself."
Before Minerva could respond one of Parker's friends said, "She's not, though. I heard Professor Sowerby say that she taught her mother once."
Parker shrugged his shoulders. "Just your father then. Well, he's not here to protect you now. Not that he could, being a pathetic, filthy, stupid Muggle."
"Take that back!" Minerva hissed again, beside herself with fury.
But Parker only laughed in her face. "Make me!"
Minerva glared at him and suddenly Drew's cat jumped at Parker out of nowhere. Screeching and meowing frantically, she started scratching Parker's face viciously with her claws.
Parker's friends tried to help him, Drew came running and screaming that no one should hurt her cat, and all mayhem broke loose in the common room when people began to take sides. The prefects tried to get the situation under control again, but they were having no luck until someone ran for help and Professor Dumbledore climbed through the portrait hole – somewhat awkwardly since he was so tall.
He didn't waste any time and a loud bang that came out of his wand made everyone freeze. Drew's cat bolted up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Professor Dumbledore's eyes followed it and then he surveyed the rest of the scene before he swept down on Parker, who was the only one who was bleeding, and quite badly, too.
Dumbledore pointed his wand at Parker, which stopped the bleeding immediately and seemed to numb the pain, too, because Parker removed his hands from his face and stood a little straighter.
"What happened here?" their Head of House asked into the room that had gone completely quiet.
One of the prefects felt obligated to answer when no one else did. "I didn't see all of it, Professor. But I believe Parker was arguing with two first-years and then that strange cat came out of nowhere and went completely crazy."
"He's not a strange cat," Drew spoke up shakily. "And he's never attacked anyone before. I don't know what's got into him!"
"It was her!" Parker pointed his finger at Minerva, apparently not too badly hurt to speak. "She did it. She made the cat attack me!"
Everyone stared at Minerva, who was at a loss for words. She thought she had seen Professor Dumbledore close his eyes for a second, suppressing a sigh.
Somebody else spoke up for her, though. "Only because you attacked us first! Saying those horrible things about me and her father!" It was Alison.
Dumbledore looked from her to Parker. "What exactly did you say to Miss Quinn and Miss McGonagall?"
"Nothing, Professor," he said quickly, but this time it wasn't only Alison who protested. Other Gryffindors who had heard the exchange all started speaking at the same time.
Until Professor Dumbledore raised a hand. "All right, I think I get the idea." He turned his blue eyes on Minerva. "Did you command Miss Carmel's cat to attack Mr Precourt?"
Minerva's thoughts were racing. She had wanted Parker to shut up and eat his own words and she had been so very angry that he was talking about her father that way. And since she had recently learned how effective an eye injury was when it came to ruining the rest of your day, she had thought about scratching his eyes out. But she had also learned how painful it was, so she hadn't actually done it. Well, she hadn't done it with her own hands. No one could really tell cats what to do, right? They were notorious for only doing what they wanted. Except, Minerva knew that she could make them listen to her sometimes… It didn't seem wise to admit that now.
She made herself stand up straight and said, "No, sir."
There was a long pause when no one said anything and Minerva desperately wanted not to look at Professor Dumbledore anymore, but to avert her gaze would have felt like an admission of guilt.
"I'm surprised at you, Miss McGonagall," he said eventually. "Defending others is a noble endeavour, but doing so by way of hurting someone else is surely not what you have been taught, not to mention against school rules."
Shocked, Minerva rocked backwards on her feet. She hadn't expected Professor Dumbledore to blame her. She hadn't touched her wand, uttered a single incantation or even moved! There was no proof that she had done anything wrong. "But I didn't!" Minerva tried to defend her actions. "I didn't mean to…"
"I believe," Professor Dumbledore interrupted her in a voice so cold and disappointed as Minerva had never heard it before, "I asked you never to lie to me."
Even if she had known what to say to that, she couldn't have made her lips move.
"Now, I'll be accompanying Mr Precourt to the hospital wing. Once Madam Hailstone proclaims him healthy enough, I want to see both of you," Dumbledore looked from Parker to Minerva, "in my office for detention."
He didn't explain what exactly that would entail. He simply turned around and when he left the common room, Minerva suddenly felt very, very small.