I don't think I looked enough at Minerva's life as a student. So, flashback chapter this week :) Hope you like it?

Also, there might be another post this week. Maybe Friday, Saturday or Sunday :)


15 December 1950

"I heard the Durmstrang boys are terribly good looking," whispered Emily Cresswell to her neighbour. "Mind you I heard lots of them were supporters of Grindelwald..."

"What nonsense," said Albert Longbottom, drowning out the noise of Emily's conversation as he came to sit down beside Minerva. Minerva looked up from her book as Albert dropped his bag ungracefully onto the desk. "You'd think this school reunion was the most exciting event that had ever taken place at Hogwarts."

"That's because it is going to be," came Augusta's voice from behind them. Minerva and Albert turned around. "The whole school is talking about it," Augusta added. "International relations policy I bet you."

Albert rolled his eyes. "That's just boring," he said, causing Augusta to tut. He turned and nudged Minerva. "Hey, Minerva?"

"This is the last time Longbottom," Minerva said, knowing exactly what Albert was going to ask. She sighed and gave him a spare piece of parchment for him to take notes one. "Next Hogsmeade trip—"

"You have to buy us all Butterbeers," interrupted Augusta, catching Minerva's eye and smiling. "And some parchment."

Minerva snorted just as the door to the classroom swung open. Instantly the chatter in the room died down as Dumbledore walked in and strode to his desk.

"My apologies," he said, placing a stack of parchment down on his desk and then turning to face his fourth years class. Minerva wondered mildly what it was that had caused Dumbledore to be 5 minutes late. "Now, today we will be practising Switching Spells again," he said, casually waving his wand so that the notes appeared on the board. "I hope you all did your homework."

Albert winced. Indeed, he had played exploding snap with Dominique Gudgeon until 11 last night instead of getting any of his work done. He had assured both Augusta and Minerva that he had mastered the Switching Spell. However, it did not look as that was really the case.

The rest of the class passed quickly. Students could be heard muttering away as they pointed their wands at the objects in front of them. Some however had resorted to violent jabbing when their items showed no sign of transforming.

As it neared 12 o'clock and the smell of food began to permeate the Transfiguration classroom, Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I think that will be enough for today," he said, clapping his hands together. "Does anybody have any questions about Switching Spells? Or about the exam in January?" he added. "I cannot promise I will be able to answer all of the exam questions, but I will tell you as much as I can."

He waited for a moment until Martin Cole put his hand up.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Martin said. "I have a question about this weekend."

Dumbledore frowned slightly. "Very well," he said, nodding for Cole to proceed.

"Is it safe for muggleborns to attend the event on Saturday?" he asked, promptly receiving some sighs and groans from his fellow classmates. "It's not a stupid question," he said indignantly. "Grindelwald was only defeated five years ago. Many people still believe in his policies. And he attended Durmstrang," he finished significantly. "So, Professor?"

"I can assure you, Mr Cole, that the event this weekend will be perfectly well supervised," Dumbledore replied. "Not that I believe supervision is necessary," he added carefully. "Durmstrang is a respectable school and I am told their current students are equally as well-behaved."

"Will we need to dance, Professor?" piped in Emily Cresswell, as chatter in the hallways started to grow louder. Albert shuffled beside Minerva, clearly impatient to get to the Great Hall and have his lunch.

"Not if you do not want to," Dumbledore replied. "Now, does anybody have any questions about the upcoming exam?"

His question was met with silence.

"Very well," he said. "I believe that marks the end of our lesson," he added. "I shall see you all tomorrow for our last lesson of the year."

"Finally," said Albert as soon as the class had been dismissed. He began to pack up his stuff quickly. "I am starved."

Augusta rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous, Albert. Now, come on, chop chop and get a move on," she said briskly, hitting Albert lightly with her bag. "Could you walk any slower?"

"Yes," came the reply.

Minerva rolled her eyes and finished packing away her belongings. As the class then began to filter out of the classroom, the trio now almost at the door, Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Miss McGonagall, may I have a word?"

Minerva turned and nodded. "I'll see you later," she then whispered to Augusta, before turning and going to meet Dumbledore who was sitting at his desk. "Yes, Professor?"

He smiled and pulled out a cream envelope. It looked expensive and serious and Minerva noticed it was sealed with gold wax embossed with the letter T. She frowned as Dumbledore handed it to her.

"Congratulations, McGonagall," he told her, as she began to open the letter. "It appears Transfiguration Today was suitably impressed with your paper."

Minerva's eyes widened as she pulled out a certificate from the envelope. "Transfiguration Today Most Promising Newcomer award," she breathed, in complete awe. "But I'm only a fourth year."

Dumbledore shrugged. "Age has nothing to do with it, McGonagall," he told her. "Your work spoke for itself."

Minerva blushed and slowly she put the certificate back into the envelope with shaking hands. She hadn't expected anything to come of her research paper. In fact, it had been Professor Dumbledore who had urged her to submit it. Without his insistence, she would not have submitted anything.

"There is also an award that you must collect next week," he said. "There will be a brief ceremony too."

"Ceremony?" Minerva repeated hoarsely.

He smiled. "This is a big achievement, Miss McGonagall," he told her, causing her to blush even more. "Not many students are awarded this prize. I am told the ceremony will be held on Friday," he added. "Seeing as it will be the holidays, you will not be missing any classes."

Minerva nodded and slipped the envelope into her bag. "Thank you, Professor," she said.

"This was entirely your doing, McGonagall," he said. "You do not have anything to thank me for." He smiled and stood up. "I will not keep you any longer from your lunch, McGonagall. I will see you tomorrow," he added.

Minerva smiled and nodded. When she reached the Great Hall and joined Albert and Augusta, the conversation topic was again about the Durmstrang visit this coming weekend.


25th October 1994

"So, what were they like?" Pomona asked.

Minerva looked up slightly startled as she was brought back to the present day. "Hm?"

"Durmstrang? When they came to visit," Pomona clarified. "I can't believe I missed it just because I'd graduated a year earlier."

Minerva shook her head. "It was not that exciting," she said. "We didn't speak much if I'm honest. If anything, I think most people were excited about the opportunity to dress up."

Pomona smirked. "Did you?"

"Well, I didn't wear my school uniform," Minerva said, turning her attention back to the task at hand. "Would it not be easier if you used your wand for this?"

Pomona followed Minerva's gaze to the Bubotuber plant sitting between them. They were in Greenhouse 1 after Pomona had asked Minerva to help her collect some pus from the Bubotuber plant. This one had grown differently so that the skin was extremely thick and the pus was just not coming out.

Minerva had been tasked with holding the pot, while Pomona attempted to squeeze some of the pustules. Though having been asked on many occasions to help in two-person Herbology jobs, Minerva had to admit that so far this was her least favourite.

"If that pops on me..." she warned, trailing away and looking at Pomona.

"Minerva, I'm a professional," Pomona said. "But this is a delicate business so hold the pot carefully and do not move your hands one inch. Now," she added, as she armed herself with some tweezers, "what about Beauxbatons? I heard their uniforms are much better than ours."

Minerva rolled her eyes. "Our uniforms are perfectly acceptable," she said in a clipped manner. "Also, Beauxbatons did not come to Hogwarts when I was at school."

"That's a shame," Pomona said softly. She then bent down so that she was levelled with the Bobutober. "Now, if you move we will both get covered in pus, Minerva," she warned. "So, do not move."

Not wanting to be covered in pus, Minerva kept her hands steady. She braced herself as Pomona's tweezers came into contact with the Bubotuber, then sighed in relief when the plant merely shuddered and proceeded to exert its fluids in a controlled manner.

Pomona continued to do this all over the plant, collecting the pus with a small phial she had magicked to follow her every move.

"Last one now," Pomona commented, somewhat cheerfully. She brought the tweezers close to a pustule and was about to pierce it gently when suddenly the door to the Greenhouse opened.

"Mum?"

"Oh!" Pomona jumped and her tweezers hit the pustule.

The plant shuddered and instinctively Minerva closed her eyes and turned away. A second later and Minerva felt herself be covered in the remaining pus from the pustule.

"Oh," Minerva heard Grace echo. The girl had covered her mouth and appeared to be trying really hard not to laugh.

"Grace Matthews, would it hurt you to knock?" Pomona snapped, her hair and robes covered in yellow liquid. She gave a sigh of irritation and flicked her wand so that the pus cleared itself; Minerva doing exactly the same. "What are you doing here? It is 10 minutes until curfew."

"You wouldn't give me a detention," Grace said earnestly, though she sobered when she spotted Minerva's look. "Would you?"

"There are rules about students being outside of their dormitories after ten o'clock," Minerva said pointedly. "These rules apply to all students."

Grace grimaced. "Well," she said. "That's put me in my place."

"Did you need something, Grace?" Pomona cut in.

"I came to give you this," Grace said. "Dad didn't realise he could ask an owl to deliver two letters at once," she added, smiling slightly and rolling her eyes. "He put yours in mine."

Pomona pursed her lips in a manner very unlike herself. "Don't tease your father," she told her daughter a little strictly. "Is there anything else? You have 5 minutes, now."

"I need you to sign my permission slip," Grace said. "I want to go to Hogsmeade with some friends tomorrow but I forgot to ask you to sign my slip."

Grace handed Pomona a piece of parchment and Minerva clicked her fingers so that a quill flew straight into her friend's free hand.

"Thank you, dear," Pomona said, bending low and signing the sheet quickly before standing back up and handing it to her daughter. "All right, now off you go."

Grace nodded, gave her mother a quick kiss on the cheek, waved at Minerva, then left the Greenhouse.

As the two witches looked after Grace's dark shadow as she ran up the hill to the castle, Minerva took a deep breath in.

"What is it?"

Minerva looked up at her friend. "That is the last time I am ever helping you again, Pomona," she said seriously. "Professional, indeed."

Pomona bit her lip, trying to resume a composed albeit apologetic look. "Sorry."