A/N: It's been a bit of a crazy week (also my birthday, yay), but I didn't want to keep you waiting because your love and support for this story has been amazing. So I found the time to finish this next chapter. Hope you enjoy!

29. Starting Over

When Albus entered the staffroom, he was late. This often happened after a trip to the Hogwarts kitchens. For about a second Albus entertained the hope that he might not have to apologise because they had only loosely agreed on a time to meet today. But he should have known better. Of course Minerva was already waiting for him.

She looked up at his entrance and Albus suppressed a smile. She was wearing dark red robes with black highlights that were perfectly pristine. Her hair was in an intricate sideways French braid and her green eyes shone with a bright intensity. Everything about her appearance said that she was ready to get down to business. It made it very easy to forget how incredibly young she still was. When Albus had talked to her yesterday, it had felt as though he had met an old soul that called out to his own. He just hadn't figured out yet if that was a good thing.

"I apologise for my tardiness. I thought we might enjoy a light brunch." Albus waved his wand and the food from the kitchens appeared on the long table.

Minerva's eyes widened as she took in the variety of choices. "Light?"

"It seems the house-elves are bored with feeding only me," Dumbledore explained as he sat down. The new term wouldn't start for another week, so the other teachers weren't required or expected to be back in the castle just yet. "They were delighted when I told them that it's two of us now."

Minerva's brow furrowed. "Couldn't we send them on holiday as well?"

"I suggested that once," Albus said, smiling at her for her forward thinking. "And then they burned my eggs for a week."

A fleeting smile crossed her face. "Well, that's one way of expressing their opinion, I guess."

"They were probably just in shock," Albus replied. "But just to be safe, we shouldn't offend them. Please." He indicated that she should help herself to some of the food. Clearly, she hadn't been to the kitchens yet and so he suspected that she hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon.

"By the way, though there are no official meals during the summer holidays, you're welcome to anything that's in the kitchens. No need to always do your own shopping in Hogsmeade. Just make sure you have enough time if you plan to argue with the house-elves about cooking it yourself."

She gave a little snort but nodded.

"And of course you're free to leave the castle any time you like, but the gates will be locked and need to stay that way if it's past the students' curfew. Not that there aren't other ways out of the castle if one really wants to find them. Heads of House are expected to be available for their students to turn to at all hours, if at all possible, but you know that," Albus finished with a smile.

Pausing with a cup of tea halfway to her mouth, Minerva said with a wry smile, "Sounds exhausting."

"It can be. But there are certain benefits. For example, Heads of House get away with a fair amount of bias that other teachers are strongly discouraged from displaying."

"I would think that all teachers are expected to treat their students fairly and impartially," Minerva pointed out indignantly.

"Of course, their students and their colleagues alike," Albus nodded.

It was only a subtle hint, but she caught it right away. "I'll be civil as long as she is, too."

Albus smirked and decided not to press the issue. He would have to trust that he wouldn't be called upon to stop a duel between Professors McGonagall and Narramore. He doubted that the latter would survive long enough for him to arrive.

He helped himself to some eggs and changed the topic. "So, I must admit to being curious if you'll allow me," he said. He didn't fail to notice that Minerva's eyes immediately became guarded.

Well, that was new. The student he had once known had been open and honest to a fault. But the question he was meaning to ask probably wasn't the one she was wary of.

"What did you dream about last night?"

She seemed relieved and flustered at the same time. After a beat she said, "Butterflies."

"Butterflies?" Albus repeated dubiously.

"That's what I said," Minerva confirmed, but she fidgeted in her chair and dropped her gaze to her buttered toast.

At least she was still a terrible liar.

"I know. My hearing is excellent, thank you very much."

"But you don't believe me." It wasn't a question.

"It sounds like a rather dramatic change from the kind of sinister dreams you described to me yesterday," Albus hedged. She was under no obligation to tell him anything of such a personal nature, but it was somewhat disappointing that she had chosen to lie to him instead. He wasn't entirely sure how he should react. He found himself in uncharted waters because he couldn't simply tell her off anymore. She was no longer his student and she had every right to make her own choices and he would have to accept that.

The look she gave him when she lifted her eyes made that perfectly clear. "Well, I don't believe that you dreamt of pudding either."

There was a moment when neither one of them said anything. Whenever they had found themselves in a stalemate like this, she had always looked away first – as a young girl out of respect and later, he suspected, out of fear that he might try to read her mind. Today, she didn't even blink.

"Alas, I didn't expect that we would be starting our working relationship with accusations," he said, bemused.

That's when Minerva huffed and leaned back in her chair. "Fine, it wasn't butterflies. It was..." She struggled to find the right words, the kind she was willing to share with him. "I think what the dream meant was that I'd be safe at Hogwarts, just like you said."

Albus smiled. "I'm happy to hear that."

Rather than smile, she gave him a prompting look.

"I'm sorry, but I really did dream of pudding," Albus told her. "I have a bit of a sweet tooth, you know."

"Yes, I know," Minerva said, and finally she smiled.

But it seemed safer not to walk deeper into that mine field. Not today, anyway. There really was some work that needed to be done, first and foremost reorganising the Transfiguration Department.

"Now, let's talk about our teaching schedule, shall we?" Albus waved his wand, and it wasn't long until they had pushed the food aside to make room for several bottles of ink and scrolls of parchment.

Drawing up the timetables for the new school year was always a hassle that never failed to give him a headache. Minerva's addition to the staff made it a little easier, and it turned out that she had a keen eye for the whole process. Based on her meticulous schoolwork, Albus had long since suspected that she was a lot more organised than he had ever been. It gave him an idea, but since she hadn't even started teaching yet, he shouldn't get ahead of himself.

Then again, most of his ideas turned out to be rather brilliant, though certainly not all. He had a feeling that Minerva would agree with that. Funnily enough, as forthright as she was when it came to pointing out mistakes in his own work, she didn't have the same confidence in her ability to do better.

"You really want me to teach the sixth-years?" she asked, her eyes round with hesitation.

"Were you planning on spending the entirety of your first term teaching students how to turn matches into needles?" Albus asked in return.

Minerva gave a noncommittal nod. "Actually, yes, I thought I might."

"I think that would be a colossal waste of your talent and intellect," Albus replied. She didn't pay the compliment any mind. "But I know nothing about teaching."

"Didn't you lead a study group during your final years here at Hogwarts?"

"I did..."

"And didn't you teach your friend Miss Augusta Longbottom how to properly perform a Vanishing Spell so she wouldn't fail her Transfiguration O.W.L.?"

"Well, I..."

"And even in your first year at this school didn't you help one of your classmates to improve her spell work enough so she wouldn't have to repeat the year or even leave Hogwarts altogether?"

"Those situations were all very different," Minerva said sharply, as if daring him to cite one more example of her glaringly obvious talent to mentor others.

Albus settled for a simple, "How so?"

"I was still a student myself then. I only acted on instinct, doing the best I could, and no one expected anything else. No one could have held me accountable had I done something wrong." She shook her head. "I'm sure the parents of my potential students would feel differently now."

"Shouldn't you of all people be very much in favour of each of us being held accountable for our own actions?"

"I am, which is why I generally try to choose wisely."

"Then feel free to blame me afterwards because in this case I'm choosing for you. That is my prerogative as head of our department." Albus pushed the scroll of parchment towards her. He wasn't about to give her an O.W.L. or a N.E.W.T. class, but he did have every intention of challenging her. They both knew that was the best way for her to thrive.

Although, in this moment, Minerva looked a little less certain of that than he felt. Albus chuckled. "I'm not throwing you to the wolves. I promise. Personally, I find our sixth-years to be a lot more sensible than our fourth- or third-years."

"I guess I'll take your word for it."

"You won't have to for much longer." He winked her. "But there's still some time left before the new term starts, so I'd like you to draw up a couple of lesson plans and then we can discuss those in greater detail over the next few days." He didn't really think that was necessary, but Minerva seemed glad to have been given a task she would most likely excel at.

Some things didn't change.

She was self-aware enough to notice that. "You're still giving me homework then."

"So it seems. But how about we exchange the grades for a dinner invitation? I was thinking about giving the house-elves a very much not wanted break and eating dinner at theThree Broomsticks tonight. Perhaps you'd like to join me?" he offered.

Albus tried not to take it personally when Minerva hesitated. Over the years he had often seen parts of himself in her, mostly when it came to her startling talent and moral fibre. But it seemed that she had developed another one of his traits, one that he had never wished for anyone else to inherit. A need for privacy that more often than not tended to leave you isolated.

Whatever was going through her mind exactly, Albus was relieved to see that she settled on a smile. "Of course, I've been looking forward to a trip to Hogsmeade."

"It hasn't changed much," Albus informed her. "Somehow it never does."

"That," Minerva said, "actually sounds perfect."

The Three Broomsticks really did look exactly as Minerva remembered it. It filled her with a bit of nostalgia until she realised that there was no need. She could come here any time now. Briefly she wondered if that would make it less appealing. But for now the thought lifted her spirits and to celebrate that she ordered a Butterbeer.

"I see you're planning to drink me under the table tonight," Dumbledore commented on her light choice of beverage.

"Says the man with the Gillywater," she countered.

Dumbledore chuckled. "What can I say? If you're not a party person, then I'm practically a hermit. But I've lived at least half of my life already. So I'm allowed."

Minerva frowned. "I don't see why age should be the determining factor here."

"Well, most people feel that they only have a certain amount of time to live their lives to the fullest before a certain sense of responsibility kicks in."

His words made her think of what had happened when that sense of responsibility had kicked in for her, or rather when it had momentarily gone away only to return with a vengeance. But she had come here tonight, determined to only make light conversation, so she merely sipped her Butterbeer.

"They don't make them like this in London," she said and then winced when she realised what opening she had just presented Dumbledore with.

But all he said was, "I quite agree."

"Then why do you look positively nauseated?"

"Ah, we had a little incident involving Butterbeer shortly before the end of last term. A couple of seventh-years organised a splendid party that got somewhat out of hand, and let's just say, the castle smelled of stale Butterbeer for days," Dumbledore told her and paused when he saw the look on her face. "You know, as a teacher you should at least pretend to be a little appalled."

"It's not about what the students did..." Minerva pressed her lips together, but she was still smirking. "I was just imagining the look on Apollyon Pringle's face when he was told to clean that up."

"For someone who hasn't even been officially introduced to most of the staff you have a surprising number of vendettas already," Dumbledore noted, but his eyes were alight with amusement.

Minerva shrugged. "No matter what it says in my contract, I'm not obligated to like a man who's tried to hurt my brother."

"How is Robert?" Dumbledore asked, eager not to talk about the Hogwarts caretaker anymore. "What's he doing now? He seemed rather unconcerned about his future during our Career Advice meeting."

"He still is. He says he needs to clear his head before he can decide what he wants to do, so he's gone traveling."

"I see. Good for him."

"Is it?" If Minerva hadn't just quit the first career she had chosen right after leaving Hogwarts, she would have told Junior to get his act together.

Dumbledore thanked the waitress for bringing their food before he answered. "In my time it was a bit of a tradition to go traveling across Europe after school. I had planned to do the same after graduating Hogwarts."

Before she could stop herself, Minerva asked, "Then why didn't you?"

"Life made other plans," Dumbledore said slowly.

"Doesn't it always?" Minerva muttered.

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed."

Great job making light conversation, Minerva, she thought wryly as they both quietly pushed food around their plates.

"So how about your other brother? What does he think about his big sister coming back to teach?" Dumbledore asked more cheerfully.

"He's mortified, I imagine, but too kind to say so." Minerva's mouth twitched. "Though I suspect that won't stop him from asking me if I can give him the answers to his O.W.L. exams. Which I won't, of course."

"I never thought you would," Dumbledore assured her.

"Speaking of Malcolm, are there any rules other than that I'm obviously not allowed to teach his class? Can I take points from him?"

"Are you planning to take points from your own brother?"

Minerva shrugged. "If he does something stupid."

"Tough love?" Dumbledore asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Is there any other kind?" Minerva retorted.

"I truly hope so," Dumbledore said softly.

To which Minerva had no response.

"Well, you are under no restrictions when it comes to awarding or deducting points, though you're expected to use the privilege responsibly," Dumbledore answered her original question.

Minerva frowned. "So, really, there are not many rules for teachers at all."

"The position was originally held in very high esteem and paid a lot more respect than it is today. The founders of Hogwarts would have found the idea to restrict their right to do as they pleased quite preposterous."

"But it's been hundreds of years since then!"

Dumbledore chewed on his pie for a moment. "As I told you once before, some things need a very long time to change. But if you have any ideas, you're welcome to discuss them with Professor Dippet. Just don't expect him to be too enthusiastic if you ask him to give up some of his own power."

"You must think I'm being preposterous, too." Minerva lowered her fork and leaned back in her chair.

"On the contrary. I've been teaching for quite some time now. I'd be delighted to hear your thoughts on the matter."

Whether that was indeed the case or whether Dumbledore was just humouring her, they spent the rest of their dinner discussing the school and how things at Hogwarts were being run.

Dusk had settled by the time they left the Three Broomsticks. The clouds were dark and heavy and when they were halfway back to the castle, they found out why. The first raindrops that landed on Minerva's face were soft, but soon they quickened and hardened into a sudden downpour.

"Oh dear," Dumbledore muttered and reached for his wand, presumably to perform some kind of protective charm.

Laughter bubbled up in Minerva's throat and she started sprinting through the rain without bothering to cover herself. She couldn't even say what made her do it. It wasn't as though it hadn't rained in London – it most definitely had – but somehow this felt different. Like being washed clean. Or perhaps two Butterbeer were enough to go to her head these days.

After a moment of understandable surprise Dumbledore put away his wand and simply followed her lead.

They arrived on the front steps of the castle, both windswept, thoroughly drenched, with wet hair plastered to their faces, and out of breath.

"You know if both of us get sick, the students won't have anyone to teach them," Dumbledore said.

"I won't get sick because of some proper Scottish rain," Minerva replied with a silly grin. "But I can't speak for you, of course."

Dumbledore's eyes were bright and not the least bit worried. "Oh, I have a feeling you'll keep me young."

He shook off some of the water and Minerva caught a whiff of phoenix feather, lemongrass and summer rain. Or so she thought. She almost took a step closer to find out, but instead she made herself push open the gate to the Entrance Hall.

"Good night, Professor," she said, stepping inside. "Any suggestions as to what I should be dreaming about tonight?" she quipped.

"Only what we should all try to be dreaming of," Dumbledore replied with a smile. "Whatever is our heart's desire."

"So it's true then."

Minerva looked up from her lesson plans and was met by a face that was new and old at the same time. Professor Horace Slughorn was exactly as rotund, flamboyant and affable as she remembered him. "Hello, Professor," Minerva said friendly.

"Oh no, it's Horace now, my dear girl…" he replied, approaching her seat at the staff table. "… uh, I mean, my dear esteemed colleague."

"Minerva will do," she said as she rose from her chair to shake the hand he offered her.

"Wonderful!" Slughorn clasped her hand in both of his and didn't let go again. "Then tell me, Minerva, whatever are you doing here?"

Irritated, Minerva looked from her hand that he held hostage back up to his face – or rather down because Minerva was actually taller than him. "I'm here for the staff meeting before the start of term tomorrow."

"Yes, yes, that's why we're all here. I only just arrived in the castle after a most enjoyable holiday on… Well, never mind now," Slughorn interrupted himself impatiently. "What I meant was why did you come back here to teach?"

Leave it to Horace Slughorn to ask the one question Minerva had managed to avoid all week with Dumbledore. "Well, as you know, I've always had a knack for Transfiguration…"

"A knack? That's an understatement if I've ever heard one," Slughorn laughed.

"Thank you," Minerva replied haltingly.

"Of course, your accomplishments in class were astonishing, but that's exactly why you should be using them for more important things than to return to the classroom!"

Annoyed, Minerva finally pulled her hand back and fought the urge to wipe her palm on her robes. "More important things? How can you say that teaching isn't a worthwhile profession? You are a teacher!"

"Oh, but of course it's a marvellous and perfectly respectable job! For people like me," Slughorn replied. "But you, you could have been Minister for Magic!"

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Minerva huffed, talking to herself more than anyone else and not expecting an answer.

She still got one. "Because it's true, I imagine," Dumbledore said as he entered the room now. "Even the Ministry can recognise excellence when it's right in their midst."

Minerva glared at him, feeling a little betrayed. "You're one to talk. You never wanted the bloody job."

"Indeed, I did not, and I was in no way criticising. I was merely stating the obvious."

"It's a little late for that, Albus. She's already here now!" Slughorn interjected.

"I'm well aware of that, Horace, and I don't see any reason why you should feel anything but pleased about that," Dumbledore said, turning towards him. "I trust that you had a good summer?"

Before Slughorn could answer, the door to the staffroom was opened again. The man who entered on one real and one wooden leg strode right towards Minerva after he had surveyed them all for a moment.

"Heard we had a new addition this year!" he said and pulled her in for a hug.

Caught off guard and uncomfortable with being touched like that without her permission, Minerva stood awkwardly, not sure what to do with her arms.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Silvanus, I'm sure Professor McGonagall appreciates your enthusiasm, but she would appreciate it a little more if you let her breathe."

"Right, sorry." Silvanus Kettleburn released her and stepped back. "No offense. Just wanted to properly welcome you to Hogwarts."

"It's not as if she's a stranger to us or the castle," Slughorn pointed out.

"She's not?" Kettleburn looked at her as though under a magnifying glass. "Do I know you?"

Minerva tried to muster a polite smile. "Sort of. I never took one of your classes."

"Huh," said Kettleburn. "Oh, well, it's not for everyone. Requires some backbone, if you know what I mean." He patted his wooden leg. "Anyway, I look forward to getting to know you then."

"Likewise," was all Minerva managed before Professor Beery joined them.

She almost ducked behind a chair because he approached her with similar enthusiasm as Professor Kettleburn had done. Mercifully, Beery didn't try to embrace her. He just patted her on the back as though she were a child he wanted to congratulate on a job well done.

How Minerva wished for another female teacher!

Naturally, that's when Professor Narramore swept into the room and Minerva almost bit off her tongue, trying to take that wish back.

Unlike her colleagues, Narramore did not approach Minerva. Instead, she drew to a sudden halt when she spotted her. "You," she breathed. "What are you doing here?"

"Shouldn't you have already foreseen that?" asked Kettleburn from where he had settled at the table and hoisted up his fake leg. Minerva instantly forgave him for hugging her.

"My Inner Eye isn't trained to deal with such mundane things," Narramore replied in a voice that was exactly as nightmarish as Minerva remembered.

After a prompting look from Dumbledore she plastered a smile on her face. "Professor Dippet hired me as Assistant Transfiguration Professor."

Narramore's eyes went from her to Dumbledore. "As assistant to Professor Dumbledore, you mean."

"Yes," Minerva said, clipped.

"Well, that I did foresee years ago," Narramore said smugly and sat down.

Deciding that she was done with greetings, Minerva returned to her lesson plans and the notes Dumbledore had given her. Her eyes fell on a smiley face he had drawn and she took it as a reminder to take her colleagues' behaviour in stride.

Later, Cyrille Sowerby claimed the seat to her right with a cordial but no-nonsense hello and with Dumbledore shielding her from Narramore's haughty looks on her other side, Minerva began to feel like she was in the right place.

The sixth-years were waiting outside the classroom. They were chatting excitedly – not about the lesson that was about to begin but about the summer holidays that lay behind them. This day and this particular class weren't special to them in any way.

Minerva took a deep breath to clear her head and to focus on the task at hand.

"Ready?" Dumbledore asked with a kind smile. As Head of the Transfiguration Department he would supervise her classes for the time being. She had thought that this might make her nervous, but right now she appreciated the moral support.

She was ready or as ready as she would ever be. She had spent a ridiculously long time this morning choosing her most professional-looking robes and braiding her hair until she was certain that nothing was out of place. Minerva squared her shoulders and briskly walked towards the classroom door to open it.

The students filed inside and Dumbledore brought up the rear, so he could take a seat in the back of the room.

"Good morning. I know that Professor Dippet introduced me last night, but in case that you were too busy enjoying the excellent feast, I'm Professor McGonagall and I will be your Transfiguration teacher this year. As I…"

She didn't get any further because the door to the classroom was thrown open and a boy with blonde hair and Gryffindor robes came bursting in, breathing heavily. "Sorry I'm late, uh, Professor," he said hesitantly when he didn't recognise her.

"Class has already started. I expect all of you to show your classmates and me the common courtesy of being on time," Minerva replied coolly. "Ten points from Gryffindor."

A hush fell over the class. No one had known what to expect from her. She wasn't that much older than the students and hadn't automatically commanded respect. Minerva could feel that this had just changed. Perhaps taking ten points –from her old house at that – was a bit harsh, but she hoped to teach these students more than one lesson today. She wouldn't tolerate tardiness or disrespect, certainly not from students who were relatively close to graduating.

Her eyes strayed to Dumbledore in the back. He had an eyebrow raised, but he just smiled at her when he caught her looking.

Minerva returned to what she had originally planned to do before the interruption, namely to check the attendance list because she didn't know any of the names yet. "This year you will become familiar with a new and immensely difficult branch of Transfiguration magic – the art of Human Transfiguration," she said when she was finished and everyone was accounted for. "Can someone give me a definition of what a Human Transfiguration is?" she asked, trying not to show that she was just a little bit worried about what she should do if no one would be willing or able to answer her questions.

Thankfully, a hand went up in the front row. It was another Gryffindor, one of the two Prewett brothers, if Minerva remembered correctly. "It's a sub-type of Transformation magic, in which one transfigures either individual human body parts or even an entire human being into another form, either animate or inanimate."

Minerva made a mental note to remember the name of this particular student because that was a flawless definition. "That is correct. As such, experiments with this magic should not be undertaken lightly because the only subjects available for practising will be yourselves."

This time the excited murmurs did have to do with the lesson. A Ravenclaw girl in the back raised her hand. "Would an Animagus then also be considered a Human Transfiguration?"

"Can anyone answer that?" Minerva asked the rest of the class. If she had learned anything from Dumbledore, then it was never to answer a question herself if someone else could do it.

"An Animagus would be a cross between a Human Transfiguration and a Trans-Species Transformation."

"Right again," Minerva nodded, wondering whether she should give Mr Prewett points for having answered two questions now. But she had always thought awarding points for simple participation in class was a bit soft.

Before she could decide, there was another question. "Aren't you an Animagus, Professor?" A boy from Hufflepuff eyed her shrewdly. Technically, these students were old enough to have known Minerva as a student, though she hoped that no one remembered that embarrassing fall during her final Quidditch match.

"Yes, I am," she confirmed.

"Can you show us?"

Minerva hesitated. She wasn't one for show-and-tell, but she realised that she now had the rapt attention of the entire class. It seemed foolish to waste that. So she jumped onto her desk, landing softly as a Tabby cat, and then jumped back down, landing on her own two human feet.

The respect of the class for her skyrocketed instantly and there was even some applause, which was silly but also unexpectedly touching.

"Can we do that, too, by the end of the year?" someone asked.

Minerva suppressed a moan. She had walked right into that one. "I'm afraid not. Becoming an Animagus is even more difficult than the most complex Human Transfiguration, not to mention entirely too dangerous for you to attempt this year."

Dumbledore had been completely quiet so far. Now he chortled in the corner, covering the sound with a horribly false cough.

Since half of the class turned to look at him, Minerva asked, "Do you need a glass of water, Professor?"

"Oh no, thank you, it's just allergies. Never mind me," Dumbledore replied cheerfully.

"Like I said, when it comes to Human Transfiguration, you will need to start small," Minerva continued. She surveyed the class and her eyes landed on the Gryffindor she had punished earlier, who looked the least happy.

She asked him and Mr Prewett to come to the front of the class and then she explained to them how to change the colour of each other's eyebrows. With some help from her when it came to executing the spell, both boys had differently coloured eyebrows by the end of class.

When the bell rang, the students left without even complaining about the homework Minerva had given them.

Eventually, she and Dumbledore were the only ones left.

"Well?" she asked.

He beamed at her. "I think that went very well, except for my very rude interruption, of course. I just had the strangest sense of déjà vu, you know…"

Minerva rolled her eyes at him and marched out of the room.

She learned quickly that she should have shown herself more appreciative. Dumbledore was supposed to observe as many of her classes as possible, not just one. But right in the middle of her next class he stopped watching and started reading a book. In the class after that (admittedly, a not very exciting one involving first-years and matches) he kept dozing off in his chair, which was incredibly distracting since he sat right in Minerva's line of sight. Not to mention slightly offensive.

Eventually, he simply got up in one of her classes and left halfway through. That rankled her so much that Minerva almost forgot her entire lesson plan for that particular class.

Incensed, she rounded on him in his study at the end of that day. "What was that? Leaving in the middle of class?"

"Well, I had remembered that I had a stack of essays waiting for me to mark and that seemed like a more valuable use of my time," he replied rather unconcerned.

"More valuable?" Minerva repeated. "But I'm supposed to learn from you! How do you expect me to do that if you're not actually there?"

His gaze more serious now, Dumbledore looked up at her from behind his desk. "I have been your teacher for almost ten years. I have nothing left to teach you, and to be perfectly honest, I would like to be done now."

Minerva took a step back as though his words had physically stung her. "I wasn't aware that I was such a burden to you."

Dumbledore shook his head as though she was the one who was being unreasonable here. "That is very much not what I said."

"Then what are you saying?"

"I don't want to be your teacher anymore because I would prefer to be your colleague, perhaps even a friend."

"Oh." Surprised and embarrassed about her little outburst, Minerva opened her mouth and closed it again. "Then... I guess… I will let you get back to your essays now."

"That's very considerate of you. Of course, if you still insist on learning from me, you'd be more than welcome to mark these essays for me…"

"I'm sorry, Professor, but I can't do that. I have my own homework assignments from my own students to check," Minerva replied with a cautious smile.

Dumbledore smiled back at her. "Yes, I suppose you do."