The Transfiguration Professor
The moment Minerva McGonagall laid her eyes on young Procyon Black, she knew she would have her hands full. She had been teaching for quite some time now and she was not at all fooled by the young girl's confident mask. She heard the whispers from the other students throughout the girl's sorting. Not to mention the young Black turned out to be a Hatstall, much like Minerva herself had been. She kept her eye on the girl for the entirety of the 7 mins she had been sitting on the stool. The girl was good at masking her emotions, but She could see the frowns and slightly disgruntled and uncomfortable expressions the girl made from time to time beneath the hat. No one from a distance would have been able to see it though. And because she was carefully watching the girl, Minerva was prepared to catch her when she almost fell off the stool.
Minerva McGonagall was not at all surprised when the girl was finally sorted into Gryffindor.
She was unsure if it was because of the girl's unique sorting. Or if it was the fact that when she had looked into those familiar grey eyes she was reminded of the first night of term 20 years ago in 1971 when McGonagall had encountered a young Sirius Black out of bed and demanding that he be switched out of Gryffindor in fear of the repercussions from his family. Or if it was her many years of experience that caused her to make her way up to the 7th floor on the very first night. But either way she was not at all surprised to find a certain first year out of bed.
"Miss Black," she said when she found the young girl gazing out into the night at the top of the astronomy tower.
Procyon Black turned to face her. Eyes red and puffy from tears that have long since stopped shedding. She looked at McGonagall with a resigned expression.
"Come with me," McGonagall said and turned on her heel without waiting for a response. She led the girl all the way down to the first floor and into her office.
The girl sat carefully at the edge of the seat by the fireplace and for a moment she was reminded of the first time she met eleven year old Sirius Black.
Quietly without looking her in the eyes Sirius Black sat in the arm chair that faced her at an angle.
"Care to explain why you are out of bed, Mr. Black," Minerva said. "I am certain the Prefects explained the rules of this school."
"I was actually looking for Professor Dumbledore." He said looking away into the fire. For a moment Minerva thought she saw his eyes flaring with fear and anxiousness. But then he seemed to remember himself. So he straightened up, put on the haughty and diplomatic look that McGonagall had seen many times in his cousins and other members of the Black Family. He seemed to try and look at her with disdain like she was the one wasting his time. Even though She didn't know the boy well, that part didn't seem to fit him.
She was only slightly surprised by the sudden posture change. She knew the reputations of the Blacks very well after all.
"Oh? And why would you need to see him at such a late hour on the very first night?" She asked though, knowing the Black family, she had her suspicions.
"There has been a mistake in my sorting." He said in a very posh and demanding tone. "I must be switched out at once."
Minerva was quite surprised that Procyon Black held herself in much the same manner. She held the same haughty and confident air about her, however unlike her relatives on her father's side, she didn't look as if she thought she was superior. Her confident posture seemed to match more of the arrogant nature of James Potter and a Sirius Black that had appeared to have broken away from his family.
But McGonagall could still see right through it.
"Care to explain why you are out of bed, Miss Black?" She echoed the words she spoke 20 years ago. She frowned when noticed the girl flinch slightly at her own name.
"Couldn't sleep," the girl responded. "And I would prefer to be called Jazlyn."
McGonagall quirked her eyebrow at that.
"I prefer my middle name. But If you have to, Procyon is better than Black," Jazlyn rambled. "Anything is better than Black."
She spat out the last sentence bitterly. What she didn't know was that Minerva knew the girl's middle name, having met the girl many times when she was little. She had even somehow been dragged into babysitting her from time to time while her family went out to fight Death Eaters.
McGonagall shook away those unpleasant thoughts and addressed the girl once again.
"Why are you out of bed, Miss Jazlyn?" She asked. "The truth this time."
"It's not like I'm welcome in my room." Jazlyn grumbled.
McGonagall gave her a sharp look.
"What exactly do you mean?" She sternly.
"They don't like that Sirius Black is my father." Jazlyn explained. "It's not like I like it either. But…"
Jazlyn explained everything that happened with Sally-Ann Perks. And McGonagall felt her heart break for the young girl in front of her. She was quite surprised that the girl had decided to speak openly with her. Very different from both of her parents when they were students.
"I just don't want to be like him," Jazlyn sighed quietly.
"You know I knew your father," McGonagall started. "I was completely shocked when I found out what happened—"
"Everyone says that but it doesn't make sense!" Jazlyn interrupted. McGonagall gave her a small reassuring smile before holding up a hand to get the young girl to calm down.
"What doesn't make sense?" She asked the girl.
"How could everyone be so shocked. I mean I know my family's history— his family's history— all of them were Death Eaters or dark wizards who hated muggles. How can it be so surprising!?"
"Because he was nothing like the rest of them," McGonagall said calmly. "While he was in school, he may have been a trouble maker, but he was kind. He stood up for his friends, for muggles, for anyone who couldn't stand up for themselves. He never hesitated. He did go too far sometimes but he seemed to have the best intentions at heart."
Jazlyn looked down at her hands.
"What happened?" She asked.
Minerva McGonagall for once was unsure of what to say to a lost student. Jazlyn was too young and war was complicated. And people were even more complicated.
"I remember him," Jazlyn continued and McGonagall looked at her sharply. "I get dreams sometimes, I can't explain it. But I remember a little bit. He would sing to me, and give me rides on his motorcycle— a flying one I think— and I remember these bedtime stories about the stars he would tell me. I dream about those all the time. We have photographs of him holding me. I don't like to look at them. I don't like having these memories."
"And why not?" McGonagall asked. Her voice gave away no emotion. It was like a teacher waiting for an explanation to an answer they had given.
"Because then when I wake up or turn around I have to face reality. He isn't actually kind like you and everyone else thought and he never cared about me. I doubt he ever actually sang to me. What kind of Death Eater sings to their kid? He… he left me to go off and kill people."
Fresh tears poured down her face. She brought her sleeve up to her to try and wash them away.
Minerva felt she understood now. The girl didn't hate her father like she thought she did. She missed him and was told by the world to hate him. She certainly didn't blame her. She too couldn't bring herself to hate her former student.
"In such times like war, it is difficult to understand why others do things. Each side thinks they are right and the other is wrong." McGonagall spoke like she was teaching a class. "Within each side there are people. Each person has both light and dark within us. It's our choices that matter."
"He chose dark." Jazlyn stated solemnly.
"We don't know that," McGonagall said. Jazlyn glanced up at her with a confused look.
"The world isn't split into light and dark," McGonagall elaborated. "I have found that life is a little more complicated than that. Tell me is Transfiguration considered dark magic? Or bad?"
"No," Jazlyn said.
"What if you used a switching spell and switched someone's necklace with ropes that could choke them?" McGonagall said with a quirked eyebrow.
"Magic doesn't make someone dark, it's how we use it that makes magic dark." Jazlyn realized. "A switching spell could also be used if someone had a knife thrown at them, they could switch it into a pillow."
"Very good, Miss Jazlyn," McGonagall said. "For the example I gave, how could that be used for good?"
"If the necklace was cursed and harmed someone, you could switch it to a rope to save them." She said after thinking for a moment. Then her eyes widened as if a new thought came to her mind. "And if the person with the necklace didn't know it was cursed, they could think you were trying to choke them."
"Precisely, 5 points to Gryffindor. A concept many adults have yet to grasp." McGonagall said. Jazlyn's eyes widened. It was clear that she knew of McGonagall's strict reputation and how she never showed favoritism. "There are times when we might not know why someone made a certain choice. Such as for your father, we don't know why he did what he did, as he was never given a trial."
"But you knew him, right?" Jazlyn asked. "You must know why? Or perhaps have an idea as to why?"
"I do not," she replied. "The Sirius Black I knew would never have a reason to switch sides. I had only ever seen him loyal to his friends and to those he considered family. The Sirius Black I knew never would have left you."
"The hat said the same thing," Jazlyn said. She looked out at the fire. "It said that our houses don't make us dark but it's our choices that do. It said that he saw all of our potential and our minds. It also said my father was loyal. It said that there were things I didn't know yet or that I needed to seek the truth. Do you know what that means?"
"I'm afraid I do not," McGonagall said. She was a little worried about discussing such a topic with someone so young. She had seen far too many students grow up much faster than they should have. But the girl before her was bright and curious. It was clear to McGonagall that Procyon Jazlyn Black had felt lost for far too long and was already paying the price for actions that weren't hers. "The hat can be quite the Sphinx sometimes with all of its riddles. But it usually is never wrong."
"Is it normal for the hat to give advice or talk to students like that?" Jazlyn said, "I didn't think it was. Everyone at the feast called me a Hatstall."
"Yes and no. With some students it doesn't speak to them at all and other times it has quite a lot to say." McGnagall said. "It can be quite mysterious sometimes. I was a Hatstall myself you know."
"What did the hat say to you?" Jazlyn asked curiously.
"Much like you, it contemplated different houses and then spoke to me in riddles I didn't understand until I was much older." McGonagall replied.
Jazlyn sighed in disappointment.
"Now back to the matter at hand." McGonagall said, returning to her stern voice. "I understand why you are out of bed and do not blame you for it. However, if another student harasses you in such a way again please find a prefect or an older student you trust. They'll be able to help you find a professor if the situation needs one. For tonight I ask you to return to your dormitory. But if you are uncomfortable with that I once again suggest going to an older student's dorm if there is one you trust. If not, you could stay in the infirmary or I can take you to the head students dormitory."
"I'd like to go back to Gryffindor tower please," she said with her head down. "I think I know a few students who'd let me in."
"Good," McGonagall said. "As for returning to your own room, I'll have it taken care of by tomorrow."
Professor McGonagall gave her a rare smile as she stood up. Jazlyn followed her lead. Mcgonagall led her back up the seven flights of stairs until she made it into the Gryffindor common room again. They didn't talk as they trudged up through the castle. Jazlyn felt both relieved and yet full of even more questions about her Father. When they arrived Jazlyn bid her new Professor goodnight. She headed up the girl's dorms to the seventh year girl's room she had met earlier that night. She had said that she was welcome anytime. The older didn't seem at all surprised when the first year peaked in. She had already made space for a small bed on the floor next to hers. And she had been sleeping on it herself. She offered Jazlyn her own four poster bed insisting that she should have a good night's rest for her very first day at Hogwarts. The seventh year didn't ask her any questions or pry. She simply offered her her own place to sleep and rolled over back to sleep herself.
Minerva McGonagall or her part, pondered over what the girl had told her. Most specifically about what she had said about the sorting Hat's words. It seemed that even after all these years, young Sirius Black was still a wild card as the muggles would say.
An: sorry for the delay everyone! I apparently thought moving immediately after finals was a good idea.
