A/N: Thank you for your amazing reviews. I truly cherish every single one of them. They also inspire me to keep writing, so here's the next chapter.
20. Choices
After she had slept for days and allowed Madam Hailstone to pour lots of different potions down her throat (not that she had a choice), Minerva was finally allowed to leave the hospital wing on Wednesday. Naturally, the last class of the day had just ended.
"Sure, now you're letting me leave," Minerva muttered.
"I can keep you here another night if that would make you happier..." Madam Hailstone said sweetly.
Wisely, Minerva kept her mouth shut and quickly gathered her things.
"Hold up!" Madam Hailstone called after her and Minerva paused reluctantly. "Professor Dumbledore asked that you come see him once you're cleared to go."
Relieved that the matron hadn't changed her mind about discharging her, Minerva nodded and slowly took the familiar route to her teacher's study.
The door was already open when she got there. A Gryffindor second-year was in Professor Dumbledore's office, telling him about some drama that was unfolding in the Trophy Room right now.
Dumbledore rose from his chair. When he saw Minerva, he said, "Would you be so kind as to wait for me here while I go and deal with this matter?"
"Never a dull moment, is there, sir?" she joked half-heartedly. Perhaps she was testing the waters between the two of them.
"Indeed," Dumbledore smiled at her and Minerva instantly felt better about waiting for his return.
Only, she had spent so much time sleeping in the hospital wing, she was too anxious to sit down and do nothing. She walked around the office and for a while she inspected the large painting behind which she suspected lay the entrance to Dumbledore's private rooms. Then she spotted the newest edition of Transfiguration Today on her teacher's desk and figured he wouldn't mind. She found an interesting article and started reading and marking it as she always did.
She was almost done by the time Dumbledore returned. His eyes went to the magazine in her hand and the notes she had left in the margins. "Sorry, Professor. I'll remove them. It's just a habit."
"Oh no, be my guest. But it doesn't look as though you enjoyed that particular article," Dumbledore said as he rounded his desk to sit down.
"It's fascinating, actually, only the premise is a little flawed. It takes things for granted that haven't even been proven yet."
"Ah, but all facts once started out as nothing but educated guesses," Dumbledore pointed out.
"But how educated those guesses are depends solely on whoever made them. Even if that person is a genius, they should find someone to verify, preferably someone who knows the material," Minerva countered.
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "Then I'm glad that you found the time to read my article."
"Your...?" Minerva froze, her eyes going back and forth between the magazine and her teacher's face. "But it says here..."
"Sometimes I like to publish under a different name. Otherwise people will never tell me if something I wrote is complete rubbish – like you just did," Dumbledore explained rather cheerfully.
"I... didn't say rubbish… exactly," Minerva protested faintly.
"Oh, I'm sure something along those line will come up in those copious notes you took," he said and Minerva held on tightly to the magazine. She was so not going to let him read her notes now. Thankfully, Dumbledore didn't ask her to hand it over. "I can assure you that I'm perfectly capable of admitting when something isn't my finest work I would be delighted to discuss that particular article with you, but there's a rather more pressing matter, I believe."
Minerva didn't say anything because she didn't know what to expect. Technically, she hadn't broken any rules. She had merely gone after her brothers, who had done the actual rule-breaking and who had already been punished – or were still being punished. They would be in detention for a while, and Minerva wholeheartedly approved. Well, she felt a little sorry for Malcolm, but really, he should have used his brain rather than to blindly follow his big brother.
Speaking of which, Dumbledore could argue that Minerva shouldn't have gone into the forest on her own either. That she should have waited for the other teachers. But seeing as her brothers might have been dead by then, that didn't make for a very convincing argument.
"First things first," Dumbledore said and pulled Minerva back to the present. "How are you doing?"
Blinking in surprise and slight embarrassment because of the gentleness of the question, Minerva quickly said, "I'm fine. How is... Hagrid?"
"He's in excellent health. Had barely a scratch on him, really, but thank you for asking."
"And what about those... things?" Minerva still didn't have a name for them.
"Professor Kettleburn has relocated them together with their, ah, mother," Dumbledore replied.
"Only their mother? What happened to the Acromantula?"
"Apparently, no one has been able to find it."
"A giant spider?" Minerva scoffed. "Can't be that difficult."
"One would think so, yes," Professor Dumbledore said lightly. It didn't sound as though he had volunteered to go looking. "In the meantime, there's one more marvellous rumour about the forest for students to tell."
Minerva harrumphed. She agreed that it was a good thing if other students had been given additional incentive to stay out of the forest. She only wished it hadn't involved her family.
"Have you talked to anyone about your adventure yet?" Dumbledore asked.
She'd had lots of visitors in the hospital wing – mostly her brothers, who were feeling terribly guilty, though Minerva suspected that wouldn't last long. And she had been stopped in the corridors multiple times on her way here. Because she was a prefect and still leading the study group whenever she had the time, many students felt that they could come up to her and ask her about what had happened. But Minerva knew that was not what Professor Dumbledore was really asking.
"No. And it wasn't an adventure."
"Of course. A poor choice of words," Dumbledore retracted.
"But everyone thinks so. No one wants to hear that it was... that I was... more scared than I've ever been in my whole life," Minerva confessed without consciously deciding to do so. It just slipped out. "Certainly not the other Gryffindors."
"It's ironic that we sometimes don't understand the virtues of our own house," Dumbledore said softly. "Courage is not the absence of fear."
"It is fearing and deciding to face it anyway," Minerva finished his thought.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I have been lecturing you for too long, I see."
"No," said Minerva, who didn't think that she would ever tire of listening to Dumbledore's wisdom. "The real thing just didn't feel very brave or heroic at all. It was just... horrible."
"Ah, yes," Dumbledore nodded. "Somehow that part always gets omitted. I suppose because it makes for a better story. We so rarely get to tell our own stories, or when we do, people aren't willing to listen."
She might be overstepping, but Minerva felt as though they were sharing something –something Dumbledore had experienced as well, only a hundred times worse because of who he was. "I'm listening, sir," she offered.
Dumbledore smiled at her fondly, or so she thought, but he demurred. "Another time, perhaps. We were still talking about you and your ordeal."
"I don't think there's a lot more to say. I had to save my brothers, or at least I had to try." What would have happened if she had failed was a thought that would continue to haunt her for quite some time. "I didn't have a choice."
"There's always a choice," Dumbledore said, his voice calm but assertive. "Those who say otherwise usually do so knowing that they had an opportunity to choose and chose wrong. Of course, even when we do make the right choice, we may find ourselves unequal to the task. But I think it's safe to say that you did not only rise to the challenge, as frightening as that must have been, but that you rose above it."
She would also never tire of hearing him praise her, Minerva thought, swelling with pride. But a second, more cautionary impulse made her point out, "I had help. Hagrid, and Fawkes." She lifted her eyes to meet Dumbledore's. "Would you tell him thanks for me again? I tried, but I'm not sure if he understood."
"Oh, he understands better than we do sometimes," Dumbledore assured her. "And regardless, not many sixth-years could have charged the trees of the Forbidden Forest to protect her."
"I wasn't sure it would work," Minerva admitted. "I just knew we needed protection."
"I regret I wasn't there to give it," Dumbledore said and he almost sounded pained, but he briskly added, "Although, as your Transfiguration teacher, I feel like I played a small part."
That reminded Minerva of something she had been meaning to ask. "I won't pass out every time I do that spell, will I?"
"Are you anticipating a next time?"
"No, but I wasn't anticipating this one either."
Dumbledore inclined his head. "Fair point. No, I daresay you will only grow stronger." He paused, looking very solemn or more so than usual. "Which is why I have decided to grant your request after all."
Minerva didn't dare to speak or even hope. She certainly wouldn't insult either one of them by pretending she didn't know which request he was speaking of.
"Provided, your parents give their consent."
At that, Minerva could no longer hold her tongue. "But I'm of age!"
"Do you think that because you're seventeen, your parents would not share your pain should anything go wrong? Or that your nearly fatal incursion into the Forbidden Forest has made them less likely to care deeply for your well-being?" Dumbledore asked one of his infuriating questions that could only be answered exactly the way he wanted them to.
Minerva opened her mouth and closed it again, unable to come up with a response that Dumbledore wouldn't immediately take apart.
Fully aware that she was working furiously on finding a way out of this, Dumbledore said, "I recognise your legal authority to make this decision as a witch who is young, very young, but over-age. But for this to work, you will have to accept my authority to decide how we would proceed. And you would have to accept it without question."
His voice left no room for protest, so Minerva swallowed it all and nodded.
"Very well then. I think you should take the rest of this term to regain your full strength and I shall come and talk to your parents this summer."
Even if Minerva had dared to object to any of this, she would have been too stunned. She had never heard of a teacher making a house call before. Unfortunately, she couldn't decide if that meant that Professor Dumbledore really wanted to persuade her parents to say yes or if he really wanted to make sure they would say no.
Either way, she had a feeling that he would get what he wanted.
Too nervous to focus on anything, Minerva was pacing up and down like a caged animal. Her parents had stopped asking her to sit down. They were both in the sitting room, but they weren't as calm as they pretended to be either. Isobel was reading the paper, but she hadn't turned to the next page in forever. Robert was sitting in his favourite armchair, staring at the fireplace.
"He's not coming through there, is he?" he suddenly asked, startling both his wife and his daughter.
Minerva paused. It suddenly occurred to her that she had never thought to ask. "Uh, I don't know."
Her father sighed and fell silent again. Thankfully, Junior and Malcolm were at a friend's house tonight. So the manse was perfectly quiet except for the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece.
Professor Dumbledore had said that he would call on the house at eight. It was five to. Minerva resumed pacing.
When she passed her father's armchair, he reached out to take her right hand in both of his. He had been even more attentive than usual this summer, and it wasn't hard for Minerva to understand why. It was because of that night last term when Robert and Isobel McGonagall had been informed that all three of their children had been brought to the hospital wing after an unfortunate incident in the Forbidden Forest. Robert had been forced to stay behind, fretting, because they hadn't wanted to waste any time asking for the necessary spells to be lifted to allow a Muggle to enter Hogwarts.
It had unsettled him. Minerva sympathised and usually she wouldn't have complained about her father's tendency to dote on her. But it was the exact opposite of what she needed from him tonight. She gave him a smile, but she withdrew her hand and kept pacing, her favourite summer dress swishing behind her. She had been tempted to put on her school robes, but that would have been silly. Not to mention, it would have put her father even more on edge. He had already drawn all the curtains. If Professor Dumbledore really were to arrive by Floo powder, that would actually be a prudent precaution. Mrs Caraidland, who loved to come by the manse on her evening walks, was very nosy.
The clock chimed eight. There was a soft knock on the front door and Minerva jumped. For a moment all three McGonagalls were frozen, as though they had never heard of such a thing as a visitor knocking on their door. Then Minerva shook it off and briskly went into the hallway to let her teacher into the house.
She opened the door and took two large steps back. Not only because the hallway was small and she wanted to give Professor Dumbledore enough room to enter, but also because his appearance caught her completely by surprise. Now that she thought about it, she should have known that Dumbledore wouldn't travel via the Floo Network. He could Apparate after all, and he was also capable of making sure that he wouldn't be seen by any Muggles if he didn't want to be. But there was no need for that.
Dumbledore was wearing a suit – a suit with a light brown tweed jacket over a matching vest and a blue tie and a handkerchief in the breast pocket. No one in the village who might have seen him walk up to the manse would have thought twice about his appearance. They might have wondered what fine-looking company the reverend and his wife were having tonight, but not even in their wildest dreams would they have guessed that they had just seen the most powerful wizard alive.
Honestly, neither would have Minerva, though she knew better. Without his magnificent robes and with his auburn hair and beard freshly trimmed, Dumbledore simply didn't look it. He looked like an erudite professor from a fancy or (as people in the village were usually less polite) snobbish English boarding school, which, incidentally, was exactly where everyone in the village thought the McGonagall children were going off to at the start of every September.
Minerva was too nervous to appreciate this fully, but part of her did recognise that this had been a very considerate thing to do on Professor Dumbledore's part.
"Good evening, Minerva," he said as he stepped over the threshold.
"Good evening, Professor," she replied, and because she simply couldn't hold her tongue, she added, "I like your suit."
Dumbledore chuckled. "Thank you. I visited a local Muggle store and they had wonderful service. When I told the assistant that I was a professor, he wanted to talk me into buying a year's worth supply of these marvellous suits. The poor chap looked a little disappointed when I told him that one would do."
Grinning, Minerva led her Head of House into the sitting room where her parents had stood to greet him. Acting exactly as well-mannered as he looked, Dumbledore took her mother's hand first.
"Isobel. Thank you for allowing me to intrude on your evening," he said.
"Oh no, Professor, we should thank you for taking the time to come and talk to us," she replied.
"My pleasure," Dumbledore assured her. "And of course it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Reverend McGonagall," he added, turning to Minerva's father.
"Same here, Mr ... Dumbledore," he said, tripping over the name ever so slightly. "We've heard a lot about you these past six years."
It was only when they shook hands now that Minerva truly realised that Dumbledore and her father had never met before. Even without his robes Dumbledore was taller. But then, he usually was, one way or another.
"Can we offer you anything? Some tea or perhaps something stronger?" Isobel asked.
Personally, Minerva would have liked something stronger right about now, but she knew she wasn't included in that offer. Her parents had decided that when it came to alcohol, they would stick to the Muggle restrictions of having to be eighteen years of age. It was quite arbitrary, really.
"I wouldn't say no to a nice hot cup of tea," Dumbledore said, and Isobel went into the kitchen to put a kettle on the stove.
It was a bit ridiculous because Professor Dumbledore could have conjured it within seconds himself. But he seemed perfectly happy to wait for Minerva's mother to do it by hand.
In the meantime Robert indicated to him that he should sit in the second armchair. "You didn't have any trouble getting here then?" he asked, his eyes flickering towards the fireplace for a second. He was clearly relieved that Dumbledore had walked in here in such a normal and unobtrusive manner.
"Not at all. I had a little stroll through the village. Very charming. One of your neighbours has particularly beautiful rhododendrons."
"Aye, that would have been Callum Abernathy's house. He's developed a real knack for them. It's almost like, well, like magic, I suppose." Robert grimaced and then looked from Dumbledore to Minerva. "Are you just going to stand there all night, Minerva?"
She had been too horrified to find her teacher and her father on the brink of exchanging gardening tips to notice that she hadn't sat down yet. Without a word she sat on the sofa. Her mother returned with the tea for everyone and sat next to her.
"I trust that Minerva has told you why I'm here?" Dumbledore said into the (in Minerva's opinion) uncomfortable silence that had ensued.
"Aye, she has. But I must admit that I don't understand why this 'Animagus' business is different from everything else you've been teaching her without asking for our permission first," Robert said. "I thought that turning people into frogs or other animals is a skill all witches and wizards have. After all, there are enough stories about it."
"Fairy tales, not stories," Minerva corrected her father.
"Either way, there is some truth to it," Dumbledore said. "Turning someone else into a frog is a fairly advanced level of Transfiguration magic, but one that is more or less commonly acquired. I have indeed already taught Minerva how to do so," he informed her father, who did not look particularly happy to hear that. "However, turning oneself into a frog would be a lot more difficult and extremely inadvisable at that."
That any kind of magic was inadvisable seemed easy enough for Robert to believe, but still he asked, "And why is that?"
"If you turn yourself into a frog, you do become a frog, meaning you henceforth lack the necessary intelligence, not to mention an opposable thumb, to perform the necessary spell that would change you back into your human form," Dumbledore explained.
His eyes wide, Robert looked from him to Minerva. "And that's what you want to do?"
Minerva snorted. "No, I don't want to turn myself into a frog."
"Technically, you might. You don't know what your Animagus would look like," Isobel pointed out.
"I know that. But I was hoping that the animal that most resembles my personality is not an amphibian with a brain the size of my bellybutton," she countered.
"Even if you turned yourself into the smartest animal on Earth, wouldn't you still be unable to change back?" Robert asked, frowning.
"If she were to use a spell – the same spell, in essence, that she would use to transfigure any of us – then yes," Dumbledore answered his question with a teacher's patience. "And that is the difference between a Human Transfiguration Spell and being an Animagus. A true Animagus can change into his or her animal form – and back – at will. It is an ability, not a spell, and its true power lies in the witch or wizard retaining their human intelligence while in animal form."
"So you would look like a frog, but you would still be you on the inside?" Robert summed that up in his own words.
Minerva rolled her eyes. "Can we please stop with the frog already?"
"I'm just trying to understand your fascination with this, Minerva," her father replied with a hint of sharpness in his voice.
"Well, think about it, Robert," her mother came to her aid. "If you're still able to think and act like you, except you now look like your neighbour's pet, then you could go anywhere without being recognised and do so many other things that would have been impossible before, perhaps even fly, if your Animagus form has wings. The potential is endless."
"The criminal potential, you mean," Robert said, his look highly critical. Perhaps he was thinking of Mrs Caraidland's cat that liked to sneak into their garden and steal their food whenever they were eating outside.
"There's a registry to prevent that from happening. And that's obviously not why I want to do this," Minerva protested.
"Then why do you want to do it?"
Her father, her mother and Professor Dumbledore all looked at her with the same expectant expression.
"Because I have almost exhausted all other areas of study in the field of Transfiguration, or I will have once we've dealt with Conjuration in greater detail this upcoming year. The Animagus transformation would be the only aspect of Transfiguration magic that I won't have studied when I leave Hogwarts. It would feel like climbing a mountain, only to turn around when you're faced with the final ascent to the peak. And you know I don't quit."
She really didn't. She never had. Even when they had used to go hiking as a family and Junior and Malcolm had wailed at the top of their little lungs that their feet were hurting and that they didn't want to do this anymore, Minerva had gritted her teeth and marched on. Sure, she had mostly wanted to impress her father, but she had always made it to the top. Her parents exchanged a look as though they were remembering the same thing.
"This isn't usually taught at Hogwarts?" Robert asked, though he already knew the answer to that. Still, he was trying to think it through. Minerva could tell by the way his brow was furrowed. She hoped that was a good sign. He was considering it, at least.
"Indeed, it is not," Dumbledore confirmed.
"So you would give Minerva private lessons?"
"For lack of a better term, yes," Dumbledore nodded once again.
The lines on Robert's forehead deepened. "Is that something you usually do?"
"Not usually, no. But Minerva is no ordinary student," Dumbledore said simply. "And as it's the mission of Hogwarts school to provide every student with the best education they can possibly receive, it seems appropriate to make an exception in this case."
Minerva could tell by the look on her parents' faces that they weren't unaffected by such praise for their daughter. She knew they were proud of her. She knew there was hope that they might be swayed.
Nevertheless, there was something surreal about the situation. Minerva was an adult and a very accomplished witch for her age. She knew more magic than all the rest of her classmates put together. And yet she was sitting here with two men who were in the process of deciding her future for her. She was well aware that, more often than not, that was exactly how the world worked for women. But that didn't make it any less wrong or infuriating.
Also, there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. It was entirely up to Professor Dumbledore whether he would teach her or not. No one could tell him what to do or what to think (Minerva had tried after all). And he in turn had made it very clear that he would respect her parents' decision on the matter, but mostly, it seemed, her father's. Minerva was completely and frustratingly at their mercy.
Her father took his time thinking.
"Why exactly isn't it on the syllabus? Not even for top-of-the-class students like Minerva? I understand that it's difficult, but there must have been others who were good enough to try..." he wondered, and then he asked the one question Minerva had rather hoped they could avoid. Although she had known that they wouldn't from the moment Professor Dumbledore had insisted on coming to speak to her parents in person.
"Is it dangerous?"
"Exceedingly so," Dumbledore replied without even trying to sugarcoat anything. "It's among the most dangerous kinds of magic because of the difficulty in controlling the risks."
Isobel, who, unlike her husband, had understood right away what Minerva was asking when she had first mentioned it to them, leaned forward to pose the one question she had been meaning to ask. "If some of Minerva's early transformation attempts should go wrong, you could fix that, couldn't you? I've seen you help a boy who was running around with a fish bowl for a head! He was right as rain afterwards, perhaps a little scared of goldfish, but otherwise... You could do the same for Minerva?"
"No," Dumbledore said. Minerva had never heard such a simple word sound so jarring. "Animagus magic has its own set of rules, seeing as it is rather more powerful than Transfiguration Spells. Hence, there are no counter-spells or healing potions that could reverse its effects. The result of a failed transformation attempt would most likely be a permanent mutation."
If the silence after Professor Dumbledore had sat down had been uncomfortable, the silence that followed now was unbearable.
Eventually, Minerva's father sat up straighter to say, "I'm sorry, is this a joke? Are you honestly telling me that you've come here to have tea with us and to lecture us about the difference between turning people into frogs and dolphins when you knew all along that to say yes to this would mean that Minerva could end up mutilated for the rest of her life?"
"Robert," Isobel warned him gently. She knew that people didn't usually take that tone when speaking to Professor Dumbledore.
He continued as if he hadn't heard his wife. "I've been told that you are a very sensible person, and I chose to believe that. Even though I only ever heard from you when my children got hurt by the magic you teach them or when they used that magic to harm others. Which is something I can understand a lot better now that I see the way you handle dangerous magic..."
"But it's me!" Minerva jumped in to defend her teacher. She hated to hear her father talk like that – and to Professor Dumbledore of all people. "I'm the one who wants this. Professor Dumbledore didn't even say yes at first."
Her father looked from her back to her Head of House. "Then why did you change your mind?"
"Because Minerva is in a unique position," Dumbledore said, his voice as calm as it had always been. It was what made it so hard to win an argument against him. "For one thing, she is taught by me, if you'll excuse my lack of modesty. I happen to be one of the only wizards capable of helping her to achieve this and, more importantly, to do it as safely as humanly possible. Certainly a lot safer than if she were to try it on her own eventually. And secondly, successfully becoming an Animagus is very much within her reach."
Minerva's heart momentarily forgot to keep beating. Even when Professor Dumbledore had first changed his mind and agreed to teach her, he hadn't said that he truly believed she could do this.
"I have never known any other student to display this level of talent and passion for Transfiguration and to also be willing to put in the necessary work. It seems to me that it would be almost cruel not to allow Minerva to do this and to ruin her peace of mind simply for the sake of our own. She would be forced to wonder for all of her final year at Hogwarts whether she could have achieved this, had she been given the opportunity to try."
Once again the room fell silent. Minerva was too stunned to say anything. Her mother wordlessly took her hand and they both looked to Minerva's father, who stared at her so hard as though she were a puzzle he couldn't work out.
"This is truly what you want?" he asked.
"It is."
He heaved a sigh – a sigh that told her that she had won. "Sometimes I wish you would have turned out just a little less brilliant."
Minerva had no idea how to respond to that, but she didn't need to because Robert looked back at Professor Dumbledore. "I don't much care who you are and I don't care who you've defeated. I expect you to make sure that my daughter doesn't get hurt again or, God help me, I will forget myself and do something that you and I would both come to regret."
"Father!" Minerva burst out in shock. She had never thought him capable of making a threat like that. It went against everything he believed in and it was also completely laughable.
But Dumbledore didn't laugh. "I understand," he said, as though her father's words had been entirely justified and sensible.
"Then I guess you've got yourself additional lessons this year," Robert said, focusing on Minerva again. "But you better not come home for Christmas as a frog."
Under the circumstances Minerva couldn't laugh about that. She wasn't surprised that Professor Dumbledore was rather keen on leaving now that a decision had been made.
"Well, then," he said. "I will be seeing you on the first of September – one last time. Speaking of which, I thought I would save some of our Hogwarts owls a trip." He reached into an inside pocket and pulled out three Hogwarts letters. He handed two of them to Isobel and one to Minerva.
She opened it right away because Dumbledore had just reminded her that it was her last one and she suddenly felt nostalgic enough to actually read the start-of-term instructions again. Before she could do so, a red and golden badge fell out of the envelope into her lap. Minerva had only just picked it up when her mother squealed in delight.
"Head Girl! You've been named Head Girl! Oh, Minerva…"
"What? What is that?" her father asked, leaning forward curiously.
"It's the highest honour the headmaster can bestow upon a student, other than the Special Award for Services to the School perhaps," Isobel explained happily. "There is only one Head Girl and one Head Boy in Hogwarts."
"Good Lord!" Robert exclaimed. "Isn't that a lot better than being an… Animagus?"
"I'm not changing my mind," Minerva told him.
He gave her an appeasing smile. "You can't fault me for trying."
She didn't, but she tore her eyes away from the badge in her hand to look at Professor Dumbledore.
"Congratulations, Minerva," he said, though this wouldn't have been news to him. "Hogwarts is very lucky to have you. But I hope this won't make you forget your other duties to your house as its Quidditch captain."
"Don't worry, sir. I already let the team know that this year we'll start practising our first week back at school," she replied.
Dumbledore smiled. "I thought so. Well, thank you for the tea and the hospitality, but I must be off now."
He stood and he shook both of her parents' hands again, even her father's, but then he was gone rather quickly.
The entire visit had a dreamlike quality to it, Minerva thought later when she was lying in bed. She had a feeling that she wouldn't be able to fall asleep any time soon. Her mind was racing with thoughts about her upcoming Animagus lessons and her new Head Girl responsibilities.
She was still awake when her mother knocked on her door and poked her head inside. "I thought you might still be up," she said. Minerva sat up in bed while Isobel came in to perch on the edge of it. "Your brothers are up in arms that we didn't tell them that Dumbledore would be coming tonight."
"I'm glad they weren't there," Minerva said, shaking her head.
"You do realise that you got everything you wanted, don't you? Because you don't look like it," Isobel noted.
Of course Minerva was relieved, and she would take this outcome over a 'no' from her parents any day. "I just didn't know Papa would react like that," she said.
Her mother patted her hand. "Your father is a man of God, but he is still a man. And all men react the same way when they are threatened."
"But he wasn't. He was the one who threatened Professor Dumbledore." Minerva still shuddered at the memory.
"Oh, he was threatened all right," Isobel said. When she saw that Minerva didn't know what she meant, she explained, "Sweetheart, you must understand that when you and I look at Professor Dumbledore, we see the man who defeated Grindelwald, the greatest wizard of our time, who has taught us magic beyond our wildest imagination – you even more so than me."
She paused and smiled at her curiously. "But when your father looks at Professor Dumbledore, well, all he sees is the man who's taking away his only daughter."
"I am not going to be turned into a frog!" Minerva huffed.
"I should hope not, but that's not what I'm talking about." Isobel laughed and kissed her on the forehead. "Good night, my darling Head Girl."