6. Year's End
Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were neck to neck in the House Championship. With every correctly answered question, perfectly executed charm or flawlessly brewed potion for which the teachers awarded points the lead changed. Last year Slytherin had won and lorded their victory over both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students. Both houses were extremely eager to emerge victorious this year.
Minerva was as competitive as anyone, or rather more so. But she was faced with two complications. Firstly, she was extremely busy studying for the end-of-term exams that had come out of nowhere. She had only just returned to the castle after the Christmas holidays and suddenly Easter had been upon them and now it was June. Which meant that she was running out of time.
And secondly, she had kept her word to both her father and Professor Dumbledore and hadn't set any more cats on people. She had found that the easiest way to do that was to avoid unnecessary confrontation.
Unfortunately, the older Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students had taken to jinxing each other in the corridors. They were targeting the best students in the hope of sending them to the hospital wing for a while and thus preventing them from earning their respective house any more points. The first-years were usually exempt from such attacks since the Gryffindors were too noble to attack someone who was smaller than them and the Ravenclaws thought it was beneath them.
As it turned out, however, Minerva was the only exception since word had spread that the Sorting Hat had seriously considered to put her in Ravenclaw. The Ravenclaws seemed to take it as a personal insult that she was now earning points for the wrong house (and loads of them at that). Minerva was terrified of being cornered by a bunch of older Ravenclaw students because then her only options would be the hospital wing or to get in trouble again. And she didn't have time for either of those.
She avoided being in the corridors as best as she could. To her dismay, that did not only force her to stay out of the library, but it also meant that she couldn't go down to the Great Hall. Augusta, who thought that Minerva was pushing it a little too far but also commended her for her dedication to get Gryffindor the House Cup, sneaked food to the common room for her. Unfortunately, the choices were rather limited.
A couple of days in, Minerva was beginning to feel somewhat lightheaded on her diet of toast and cold sausages. Her stomach rumbled loudly just when Professor Dumbledore had come over to her table to watch her turn her tea bag into a tea kettle. It was horribly embarrassing.
Her Head of House smiled. "Perhaps I should have asked you to turn it into a nice, hot bowl of soup instead."
"But, sir, isn't it impossible to conjure food as it is one of the Five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration?" Minerva asked.
Professor Dumbledore looked at her down his crooked nose and chuckled. "So it is, not that I thought we would be discussing Gamp's Law just yet, but here we are. Would you also happen to know how we could get around this little problem of being quite hungry but unable to conjure food out of nothing?"
"We could summon food from the kitchens, and once we had it, we could multiply or enlarge it," Minerva replied.
"So we could," Dumbledore nodded, pleased. "But under the circumstances I think it would be easier simply to wait a couple more minutes. Until then, that's ten points for Gryffindor for this very fine tea kettle and another ten for knowing certain laws of Transfiguration I have as of yet been unable to teach even some of your older fellow Gryffindors."
That sufficiently distracted Minerva from her hunger until the bell rang and the class started packing up, eager to get to lunch. Minerva was the only one who hung back. Augusta knew not to wait for her anymore.
"Hurry up, Miss McGonagall," Professor Dumbledore said, rounding his desk to leave as well. "We don't want to let that soup get cold. I think I can smell French onions."
"Actually, Professor, I was wondering if I could stay here and use your classroom to study for the exams? It's nice and quiet in here," Minerva asked. "And I won't break anything."
"I do believe you wouldn't, but I would prefer you to go to lunch now," Dumbledore replied, heading for the door and waiting for her to follow.
"But I'm not hung…" Minerva started to say and stopped herself just in time when she caught the look on Dumbledore's face and remembered that her stomach had already betrayed the truth. "Er… I just don't want to…" She faltered, unable to find a way to finish her sentence without telling a lie.
Professor Dumbledore looked at her thoughtfully. "Did I miss something? Did the food in Hogwarts suddenly go bad? Because I had a large breakfast this morning and I feel perfectly fine."
"It's not about the food," Minerva had to admit and she could tell, looking into Dumbledore's face, that she only had two choices. Go to lunch or tell him what was going on. "It's about getting to the food." And so she told him that she was worried about getting jumped by Ravenclaws.
"I see your reasoning," Dumbledore said, his brow creasing. "However, I feel that you would be putting your health in a lot more danger by missing another excellent Hogwarts meal. So, chop, chop."
He was holding the classroom door open for her and, knowing there was no point in arguing, Minerva went on her way.
This was the worst situation she could have landed herself in. The rest of her class had already gone ahead and now she made for an even easier target. She hurried along the corridors and had almost made it to the grand marble staircase when she felt something fly past her right ear and miss her by inches.
She should have just run down into the Entrance Hall, but Minerva was still a Gryffindor and she would not give anyone the chance to hit her in the back. She whirled around and spotted a group of three older Ravenclaws, who tried to look nonchalant at first. When they saw that Minerva was willing to fight them if she had to and that she was alone, they laughed and openly pointed their wands at her.
There was a flash of light and Minerva squeezed her eyes shut, sure that she would wake up in the hospital wing with sprouts growing out of her ears. But the only ones yelling were the Ravenclaws, though Minerva hadn't been able to think of a single spell to block all three of them.
She dared to open her eyes again and then she widened them some more in surprise. All three boys had been lifted a couple of inches into the air as though an invisible hand had grabbed them by the scruffs of their neck. They didn't seem to be in any pain at all, but they were completely helpless, their feet dangling above the ground they could no longer reach.
Minerva was about to burst out laughing, but then Professor Dumbledore appeared out of thin air, which should have been impossible. Asking him how he had done this didn't seem like a good idea right now, because he didn't look happy at all.
Nevertheless, his voice was perfectly calm when he asked her, "Are you all right, Miss McGonagall?"
"I'm fine, Professor," she nodded.
"Then please go on to lunch and have some of that wonderful French onion soup for me. Mr Dale, Mr Richardson, Mr Wheeler and I will be here a while."
Minerva's gaze travelled from Dumbledore to the three Ravenclaws and she almost felt sorry for them. "Yes, Professor."
She hurried to get down to the Great Hall and warned every Gryffindor she met that they should stop jinxing people in the corridors. At first they just waved her off, not interested in having a first-year tell them what to do. But when students started leaving the Great Hall, they all stopped and gaped at the hourglasses in the Entrance Hall.
Ravenclaw was suddenly one hundred and fifty points short, practically securing Gryffindor the House Cup. The story of what had happened spread like wildfire, even though the three responsible Ravenclaws did not show their faces again that day, which led half of the school to think that Professor Dumbledore had locked them up in the dungeons. Their fellow Ravenclaws were so upset with them that they seemed perfectly fine with that explanation. They also blamed Minerva even more than they had previously done. Since she was now also the hero of Gryffindor House, she didn't much care. She merely hoped that the Sorting Hat wasn't allowed to change his mind about the Sorting when she came back to school next year.
She was pretty sure that Ravenclaw Tower would currently refuse to let her enter.
Later that day Minerva passed Professor Dumbledore in the corridors which were now once again a safe place – or as safe as Hogwarts could reasonably be. "How's it looking?" Dumbledore asked her in passing.
"Excellent, sir," Minerva told him, thinking of the Gryffindor hourglass that was filled to bursting with rubies.
"Glad to hear it, because I happen to have just the spot for that cup in my office," Dumbledore replied, winking at her and making Minerva grin broadly.
"Full marks in her Charms exam, just like her mother," Cyrille said with a pleased smile. "The spitting image!"
"Well, not exactly," Herbert argued. "If I remember correctly, her mother was an extraordinarily pretty girl."
"So? I was talking about her magic, not her looks!" Cyrille countered and gave Herbert Beery a look of disgust as though he were the very dirt he usually had under his fingernails. She muttered a derisive "Men!" under her breath and seemed to include the other two Heads of House in that scathing criticism.
"Now, hold on a minute, Cyrille!" Horace protested at once. "I never said one bad word about the girl, and Albus most certainly didn't either. You can't proclaim yourself her champion simply because you're both girls!"
"Excuse me? I'm a woman, not a girl," Cyrille shot back.
Horace raised his hands in mock surrender. "Sorry, it's hard to keep up with what you want to be called these days."
Cyrille's eyes bulged. "What in the name of Merlin's dirty underpants are you talking about? All we ever wanted was to be treated the same way as everyone else."
"That's not quite true, is it? Or why then would you expect me to hold open the door for you but not for Albus?" Horace asked.
The Head of Ravenclaw House opened her mouth to answer, but Albus cleared his throat before she could do so. "Could we perhaps return to the matter at hand? I believe it was you, Horace, who asked to get through this quickly so you could attend your party tonight?"
"Quite right, quite right. So, full marks for Miss McGonagall in Potions as well. I'd even give her an extra point for that very rare and perfectly translucent sheen of her Forgetfulness Potion."
Albus looked up from the piece of parchment on which he was trying to record that which was of actual relevance in this conversation between the four Heads of House. "There are no extra points to give, Horace."
"That's a shame because it was really a very pretty potion."
"Did you want to give extra points to male students who mixed pretty potions, too?" Cyrille asked sharply.
"Please, Cyrille," Albus said while Horace was still gaping at her. "Herbert?" he asked, turning to the Head of the Herbology Department.
"Yes, yes, full marks, full marks," he said, nodding.
"Wouldn't it be faster if we checked if she didn't get full marks anywhere? History of Magic, perhaps? That's always a safe bet," Cyrille suggested since Professor Binns was currently not in the staffroom.
Albus waved his wand and Horace grabbed Miss McGonagall's written History exam as soon as it appeared. "Nope," he said with a grin, "full marks. Probably because all her answers sound as if she knew the entire textbook by heart, goodness gracious."
"That's all Cuthbert does in his classes, isn't it?" Cyrille said rather dismissively. "He just reads to them from a textbook."
"You can say about him what you will, but at least he doesn't pay attention to whether the female students are good-looking," Herbert noted cheekily.
Horace roared with laughter. "Very well said, Herbert! Excellent!"
"So," Albus said loudly since Cyrille looked positively murderous, "are we all in agreement that Miss McGonagall is ready to advance to her second year at Hogwarts?"
"Oh, certainly, certainly," Horace nodded. "Perhaps we should consider bumping her up to third year."
"You just want her to be old enough for you to invite her to your Slug Club parties!" Cyrille accused him.
"Sorry to disappoint you, Cyrille, but I only have Miss McGonagall's best interests at heart," Horace was quick to correct her. "A clever young witch like her… I just don't want her to get bored because bored students inevitably do something stupid and dangerous."
"I think she has set her sights on playing Quidditch," Albus offered.
"Like I said, stupid and dangerous," Horace nodded.
"Excuse me?" Madam Hooch piped up. She was sitting in an armchair in the corner and had so far ignored them.
Horace sent an apologetic smile her way. "No offense, Rolanda! I hope I'll be seeing you at my party tonight?"
Albus made a final note on his parchment. "I think we're done here."
Feeling weary and quite ready not to talk to anyone for the rest of the evening, Albus later made his way back to his office. He had wiggled his way out of having to attend Horace's party and was looking forward to his armchair by the fire.
First, there was someone waiting for him outside his office. Minerva McGonagall was sitting on the floor with her nose in a book. Albus cleared his throat to get her attention and asked, "Has this entire castle suddenly run out of chairs?"
Looking sheepish, Miss McGonagall got to her feet. "No, I was just waiting for you, Professor."
Albus opened the door to his office and when he had sat down behind his desk, he rested his chin on his intertwined fingers and looked at his student, who was shuffling her feet. "What is it that I can do for you on your second to last evening here at Hogwarts?"
"Well, I was thinking of borrowing a couple of books from the library for the holidays so I can work on what I got wrong in my exams, and I was wondering if you could tell me what subjects or areas I should focus on?"
Not surprised in the least that she was fishing for him to tell her how she had done in her exams, Albus smiled serenely. "Why don't you spend your summer holidays like the rest of your classmates undoubtedly will? Forgetting everything you've learned here this year and enjoying your two months of freedom?"
"I don't want to forget anything I've learned!" she protested, looking scandalised.
"While I certainly applaud that, I cannot tell you which books to get from the library," Albus told her.
"Of course, sorry to disturb you, Professor," she said, trying not to look disappointed.
Albus chuckled. "Because you passed all of your exams with top marks. So if you wanted to improve on them, I would have to make something up and I'm rather too tired to do that."
Miss McGonagall just stood there, grinning, for the longest time.
"Anything else?" Albus asked.
"Yes, actually, I was also wondering if it's possible that I could have a different Transfiguration teacher next year?"
There were not a lot of things in his life that could still surprise him. But Albus had not seen this one coming, and he found that he was rather ill equipped to answer her right away. He tried not to be more vain than the next man, but he couldn't deny that this was a rather significant blow to his ego.
"You no longer wish me to teach you?" he asked, his voice carefully composed.
"Oh, no, no!" Miss McGonagall said quickly, the look on her face completely horrified. "I do want to be in your class! I really, really do! That's what I was worried about. If perhaps I could end up in a different one."
Clearly, an afternoon spent listening to Horace and Cyrille's bickering had dulled his senses and put him on edge. Otherwise, Albus thought, he would have never misunderstood her question like that. But that was neither here nor there now as he leaned back in his chair with a smile. "Don't worry. We usually don't switch classes unless there's a pressing reason for doing so," he said. "So I will be seeing you in September. And now, get out of here," he told her, but he did so with only mock sincerity.
She grinned and gave him a little wave before she left.
A/N: In the Harry Potter books it sounds as though there is only one teacher per subject. But we know that Minerva was originally hired to teach under Albus as Head of the Transfiguration Department. So I figured maybe there used to be more than one teacher per subject at certain times. That's why I included this little bit about Minerva being worried that she could lose Albus as her teacher.