Minerva wished she could say that her transition into a Hogwarts professor was indeed smooth and painless.
Her teaching career started well enough. Even though she switched jobs on relatively short notice, the witch somehow managed to promptly prepare lesson plans for all seven year groups. Due to receiving next to no prior training, she was forced to adapt some of her former professor's teaching methods. She was asking many questions. Dragging the answers out of students instead of giving them on a silver platter. Reducing the theory to bare minimum in favour of practical applications. The witch had already seen the potential for some tweaks here and there, yet she wished to implement them gradually.
The students' reactions on having her as a professor varied. Some people missed Dumbledore and felt cheated that he was no longer teaching. Others that hoped for significant changes in grading methods were left disappointed. Many were constantly checking how far she'd allow them to go. Most of them she could handle.
But there was this one group – joint classes between all houses for the sixth years. Only one wizard attended, and yet he was the cause of all the problems.
"Your last name is sooo long," he said shortly after she introduced herself. "Can I just call you Minerva?"
"It's exactly three syllables," she replied matter-of-factly. "Just like Professor, which is the only way you will address me."
During the next practical exercises, the same boy called out,
"Hey, Professor! I think my wand isn't working. I bet it would feel better if you handled it."
Muted laughs filled the classroom. However, Minerva refused to get provoked.
"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Rowle. If you don't learn how to use it, no one will do it for you."
She hoped that the young Slytherin would stop testing her if she refused to budge. Yet, this didn't seem to be the case. Next week, to her disappointment, the situation repeated itself. In response, she gave the student an extra assignment, expecting him to hand it in on their next Transfiguration lesson.
"Where's your essay, Mr. Rowle?" the professor asked after the bell.
"Oh, yeah, that...," said the young wizard in an unexpectedly carefree voice. "I forgot. Couldn't you overlook it this one time? You look too good today to be angry with me."
Her nostrils flared. "Ten points from Slytherin."
During the next two weeks, Minerva was forced to deduct more points from Mr. Rowle than she gave out to all sixth years combined. It became obvious that her methods weren't working. In addition, she had no idea what the underlying problem was nor how to eliminate it.
Before she knew, the witch began to question her qualifications.
"Merlin, no!" she said in epiphany. "I'm turning into Wilkes!"
In front of Minerva's eyes, there appeared the face of Professor Wilkes, a substitute Transfiguration teacher in her sixth and seventh year. She remembered him as snippy, boring, and vastly underqualified. The thought that she might bear similarities to the worst teacher she'd ever had made her shiver in dread.
"Don't be so overdramatic," said Rolanda Hooch's head from the depths of Minerva's fireplace. "Have you tried talking to the other Heads of Houses? You can't be the only teacher with such problems."
Minerva took her friend's advice to heart. Next opportunity she got, the Transfiguration Professor approached her colleague, Horace Slughorn. Back when he used to teach her, she used to avoid the wizard at any costs. Mostly because he tried to recruit her into his club every chance he'd got. Now that he was a fellow professor, she hoped for a fresh start.
"I don't know what to do," the witch admitted after briefly summarizing her issue. "You're the boy's Head of House, so I wanted to talk to you before suggesting suspension."
"Suspension?" Slughorn's moustache twitched in indignation. "Come off it, my dear Minerva. He didn't mean you any harm. It's just boys being boys!"
She began to protest but he cut her off.
"I'm sorry that you're having problems, but I'm sure you'll learn to handle a class in due time. Unless you took this job only because Albus asked you?"
"Why would you say that?" Minerva's brows furrowed warningly. She gave him an interrogatory look, known for melting steel.
"Because you're another wasted potential!" The Potions Master shook his head in utter disbelief. "You're all throwing away your Ministry careers, and for what? First Albus, then dear Tom, and now you. What a shame! Who's going to achieve greatness if not out best people?"
"I beg your pardon!" The witch jumped to her feet. Her voice raising, she abandoned the thought of a fresh start. "I love my job, and so does Albus. It's not a shame, working at Hogwarts!"
"Yes, of course, of course," replied Horace, although he sounded like he was just humouring her. "There's no need to get defensive here."
Before their differences could sky-rocket into an open argument, they were interrupted by a meaningful cough.
"Excuse me."
Even Professor Slughorn, who remained seated, had to look down. They were joined by Filius Flitwick, the Head of Ravenclaw House. Now that he had their attention, the tiny wizard clapped his hands.
"I think I could be of some help. Can I steal Minerva from you, Horace?"
Hearing no objections, the Charms Professor led Minerva to a pair of old armchairs near the fireplace. Wordlessly, the witch sat down next to him, wondering why he brought her there.
"I believe that I know what you're going through," stated Filius in a solemn, squeaky voice. "The students don't respect you because you don't look like their average teacher. It's nothing personal, mind you. I used to have similar problems."
This certainly got Minerva's attention. She carefully listened to his every word.
"You see, with my less than impressive height, I am looked down on even by our first years. You, my dear, are a young witch, not much older than our graduate students. They need to learn that you're in control no matter what they try with you. Perhaps you could work on your voice?"
The witch concluded she could as well listen to her colleague's suggestion. From then on, she talked to her students in the same strict, no-nonsense tone she was taught during her first year of Auror training.
To her relief, what used to work on dark wizards and panicking civilians, seemed to work well on rowdy teenagers. The moment Minerva thought that everything was under control, however, things started getting out of hand. It turned out Mr. Rowle was just getting started.
One day, Minerva organized a short pop-quiz on interspecies Transfiguration. During the test, the young wizard didn't write a single correct answer, and yet he found the time to keep bothering other students. She asked him out of the classroom. When he refused, she gave him detention.
"But not with me," the witch clarified, wiping the unnerving grin out of Rowle's face.
This kept the young Slytherin in check until the end of the lesson. But only because she wisely withheld the information that he'd be meeting Mr. Ogg and Hagrid, not Mr. Pringle and his lash. With the element of surprise gone, subsequent detentions weren't nearly as effective. The witch caught herself imagining that she turned the boy into a rat, only to chase him in her Animagus form. This was highly satisfying and just as much inappropriate.
On the day Minerva heard Rowle snore loudly from the first row, her blood boiled, but she chose to ignore him. The snorting was getting louder. Students started to chuckle behind her back. It's baffling how one person could disrupt the entire class. When the professor couldn't hear her own voice, she was done with pretences.
Calling Mr. Rowle's name didn't wake him. Minerva kicked his bench. Jumping up, he looked at her with this annoying smirk she knew too well.
"A witch like you should be more delicate."
Finally losing her temper, the Transfiguration Professor shouted, "Headmaster's office! NOW!"
During the break, while she was distracting herself with grading essays, Minerva was approached by the Deputy Headmaster.
"Albus wants to see you," Herbert told her.
Full of worst suspicions, the witch walked into the West Tower. She passed the gargoyle guarding the entrance and stepped on the moving staircase, which transported her to the oaken double door. After coming inside, she found herself in a large circular room. She looked around in awe, unable to take it all in.
"Please, have a seat," said Albus from behind an enormous claw-footed desk. "I see you're appreciating the changes that I've made. How do you find them?"
Minerva took another glance at her employer's new office. Almost every wall was covered in bookshelves. Spaces not taken by the books were filled with silver instruments, colourful globes, and what resembled brain teasing puzzles. Portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses were peacefully sleeping in their frames. Fawkes the phoenix had his honourable spot behind the door. She smiled at the bird, waving her greetings.
"I love what you did with the place," replied Minerva, meeting Albus's gaze. "But you didn't ask me here to show off your office."
His eyes dimmed, all amusement momentarily gone. "No, I did not."
The wizard leaned forward in his chair, joining the tips of his fingers. He noticed Minerva tense as she gave him an expectant look.
"I've just had a talk with Mr. Rowle," he said in his usual calm voice. "What was the reason you sent him to me?"
Her features sharpened, but she held his x-raying gaze.
"He's been disturbing my lessons for weeks," she said curtly. "I've tried everything. You were my last option."
With a raised eyebrow, Albus asked, "Disturbing, how?"
In one breath, the witch recited, briskly counting on her fingers,
"Speaking out of turn, disregarding my instructions, making inappropriate comments, demanding special treatment, and bothering other students despite my numerous reprimands and punishments."
With every thing she listed, the wizard gave a thoughtful nod. In his peripheral vision, he saw Minerva furrow.
"Why, what's his version?"
Doing his best to keep his face blank, Albus regarded her before repeating what he'd learned.
"According to Mr. Rowle, he was sent here because, as he put it, you have it in for him. He claims to never have done anything to warrant a meeting with the Headmaster."
"What?!" Minerva exclaimed with indignation. She couldn't believe this student's guts. "I'd never do anything of the sort! There is no way. You've got to believe me…"
Her voice remained steady, yet her green eyes stared at him pleadingly. Not unlike the black eyes of another former Gryffindor that Albus remembered way too well. His face softened as he stated in an unusually deep voice,
"I would doubt myself before I distrusted you."
Minerva's next words froze on the tip of her tongue. This was awfully nice of him to say.
With a flip of the wand, the Headmaster produced two steaming mugs, grabbing one and pushing the other in her direction. Now that she seemed less likely to take her frustration out on him, they might be able to reach the point of the conversation he was most keen to discuss.
"What truly happened out there, Minerva?"
Taking a sip of the hot ginger tea, the witch told him about all the problems she'd been having as well as the countermeasures she undertook. Albus listened carefully without interrupting, nodding his head from time to time. The more he heard, the more he understood.
"Ah, now I can finally see the whole picture," he said once she'd finished. "Care to hear my theory?"
After he voiced it, Minerva's brows knitted closer together. In total silence, she turned the half-empty mug in her hands. He didn't rush her, allowing the witch to collect her thoughts, slowly digest the unexpected presumptions. Judging from the thin line her lips had formed, the Transfiguration Professor must have found his explanations highly implausible.
"So let me get this straight," said Minerva, weighing every word. "He likes me, and therefore he's making my life miserable?"
"Precisely."
"Can you elaborate?"
Albus sat higher in his chair. His eyes wandered around the room as he explained what seemed relatively obvious.
"You see, my dear, Mr. Rowle has always been popular with the female students. I remember he often got himself into trouble for, let's call it, unwanted come-ons. As you're only several years his senior, I believe this is why he developed a crush. You probably refused to show him any favouritism, which of course you should. Hence, Mr. Rowle assumed that drawing your attention, be it positive or negative, would be more beneficial for his case than being ignored."
Slowly, Minerva held up a hand, indicating a wish to speak. She put her empty cup back on the desktop and then asked,
"Rowle told you he has a – a crush – on me. And you believed him?"
"Naturally," said Albus, deadly serious. "Why, don't you think this young wizard could find you attractive?"
"I..." The witch hesitated, as if she couldn't bring herself to say the words out loud. Instead, she followed with, "I know how a crush looks like, and this isn't it."
Minerva sounded surprisingly sure of herself. Albus forced back a smirk.
"There are no rules on how people choose to display affection," he told her.
Apparently noticing that she wouldn't change his mind, or maybe just unwilling to discuss unrelated topics, Minerva switched her approach.
"Okay, even if it's true – which I'm not saying that it is," she said hastily, her tone agitated. "How can he talk to me like I'm just another student? Or straight up ignore what I'm saying? It's so inconsiderate, and unprofessional, and –"
She bit her tongue, feeling like a hypocrite. Albus used this moment of silence to say what was weighing on his shoulders.
"Considering the circumstances, I must ask you to accept my apologies."
Minerva blinked in evident confusion. "What for?"
"I have foreseen that this might happen, and yet I didn't warn you in time."
She gave him a very nasty look.
"You are not a Seer, Albus. And even if you were – you don't shoot the delivery owl."
Involuntarily, he gave out a short chuckle. Minerva missed his point completely. He should have known better – should have done something to prevent Rowle from acting out. The last thing he wanted was for his former student to regret coming back to Hogwarts. For some reason, however, she evidently didn't want to hear this. So, instead of arguing, he asked,
"Why didn't you come to me sooner? Before things got out of hand?"
With a bitter smile, Minerva quietly stated, "I thought I could handle it."
"Let us try to handle it together, shall we?" With a meaningful wink, he continued, "First, I'd strongly advise you to appreciate the delicacy of the situation. We wouldn't want to break the young man's heart."
The witch scoffed before she could stop herself, as she recalled Rowle's persistently arrogant attitude.
"Of course, because he's so fragile, honestly…" she said in disbelief.
"Because love is the most powerful kind of magic," stated Albus with emphasis, "and rejection often leads to equally powerful vengeance."
He could see that Minerva didn't like what he'd said. Her eyes narrowed in a catlike manner, her voice shaking in anger.
"If you're insinuating that I should grit my teeth and just allow –"
"Heavens no. Disrespecting Hogwarts teachers shall never be tolerated."
This seemed to have reassured her, as the witch shut her mouth, awaiting his next move. Feeling his throat go dry, Albus drank his tea all at once. It pleasantly warmed him from the inside.
"Here's my proposition for you," the wizard said, leaning back in his chair. "From now on, I am going to delegate another professor to sit in the back of your classroom and observe the students. Not during every lesson, but there would be no pattern, so that Mr. Rowle couldn't predict when it happens. Hopefully, this would discourage him from acting out even in your solitary presence. Of course, it is without saying that Mr. Rowle will be punished regardless. We will do everything to guarantee your work comfort."
Patiently though expectantly, Albus waited for Minerva's comments. When they didn't come, he asked,
"Is there anything more I could do for you?"
Minerva stared back at him, having no idea what to say. Her mind drew a blank, overwhelmed by such level of thoughtfulness.
"No," she answered in a small voice. "Thank you."
It seemed that the issue had successfully been resolved. Therefore, next week, when the witch was late for breakfast, Albus thought nothing of it. Until he heard other teachers comment on her arrival.
"Oh my, Minerva! I didn't recognize you."
"This style suits you."
"Where did you buy such a lovely hat?"
Intrigued, the Headmaster raised his eyes to check what this commotion was all about.
He almost choked on his drink when he saw her. His initial thought was that Minerva must have left her monthly payment in Gladrags Wizardwear. The witch was wearing long emerald robes that she cinched at the waist with a leather belt. From beneath, there protruded black underrobes that covered her legs down to her ankles, leaving everything to the imagination. Onto her head, she put a pointy witch's hat. Her long raven hair, usually loose on her back, were now hidden underneath it. Albus found the overall effect stunning despite it making her look at least ten years older.
After she sat at the table, he felt inclined to also comment on her clothes somehow. The first thing that came to his mind was,
"You look beautiful in these robes."
He'd expected to hear another nonchalant thank you, but definitely not,
"Damn it!"
Albus's fork came to a halt half-way to his mouth. His eyebrows rose to his forehead. The wizard repeated his own words in his mind but found nothing inappropriate.
His blank expression told Minerva she should elaborate. In a defeated tone, she added,
"I wanted professional."
"Can't you have both?" inquired the wizard, taking a mouthful of grilled cheese. His comment seemed to cheer her up a little. Regarding the witch once more, he couldn't help but ask, "Pardon my intrusion, but why the sudden change?"
"I decided to do something about my appearance," she reluctantly admitted, pouring a glass of pumpkin juice. "No more casual clothes. I don't want to look like just another student. I'd rather appear intimidating. You know, like someone you shouldn't cross."
A huge grin found its way to Albus's face, but he quickly took a bite of bread to hide it. Oh, he couldn't wait to see Minerva's mere presence reign terror among the students… Even though he deemed it rather unnecessary.
"When we were discussing your options, drastic changes to attire never came to mind." He made a call-back to their last official conversation.
"It's a low price to pay, considering the circumstances."
Albus gave it some thought as he played around with his food. He couldn't say he expected such turn of events. Still, regardless of the reason behind the witch's actions, she definitely seemed happier, more confident than mere days ago. If this was indeed the case, there was no harm in his youngest professor trying a new thing or two.
To express his approval, the wizard inquired,
"Does it mean you have a new dress code from now on?"
Placing two eggs and a toast onto her plate, Minerva shook her head.
"Just on my teaching days. And only if it works."
Amazed at her dedication, Albus watched the witch's hat tip forward as she put on several spoons of potato salad. The wizard smiled under his breath. He could certainly get used to her new appearance.