HA 8c: Transfiguration

HIM AGAIN: Chapter 8: Beyond All Stretches - Transfiguration

He had already been halfway through the great epic of his life by the time she met him - yet his twinkling eyes were ageless, transcending century easily, despite the subsequent alteration of his hair and the deepening of lines in his face. That first day had made him just another face, just another teacher. Eleven-year-old Minerva didn’t know she’d just encountered the greatest wizard in the world - her main concern was ascertaining whether he was nice or nasty, strict or funny, attentive or complacent.

Rolanda and Poppy were moaning because Transfiguration, they’d heard, was the hardest subject on the curriculum, and the teacher was apparently “not to be crossed.” Minerva, however, had a truly ‘disgusting’ level of enthusiasm.

“You read your Transfiguration textbook in your free time?” Rolanda said disbelievingly, as they lined up outside the castle. “You read it, all of it, of your own free will?”

“I found it interesting,” said Minerva, embarrassed.

“Rolanda, don’t be mean,” scolded Poppy. “You went flying before you came to Hogwarts.”

“Flying is a fun, natural activity.”

“I don’t think so. I’d rather keep my feet on the ground.”

“How boring!”

“Not boring, I just don’t like heights!”

There was a sudden hush: a teacher was approaching. Minerva looked up curiously to see a tall, thin man with auburn air and startlingly blue eyes. He was smiling benignly at them all but there was a power of presence about him, the precise nature of which was impossible to discern.

“Good morning, and my name is Professor Dumbledore,” he said as he let them into the classroom to seat themselves. “Welcome to Transfiguration - in which you have the dubious pleasure of my company for at least the next five years.” He beamed, and Minerva decided she liked him at once. “Now, expecting you to have perused the textbook is rather overly optimistic-”

“Please, sir, Minerva has,” Rolanda said loudly. Minerva flushed as everyone’s attention focussed on her and she shot a glare at Rolanda.

Dumbledore blinked and smiled at her, the blue eyes sparkling. “Excellent! Splendid! What is your name?”

“Minerva McGonagall, sir.”

“Well, I see I shall have Miss McGonagall to depend on as a beacon of knowledge if ever my memory fails me.”

He nodded at her happily and then proceeded to summarise the subject of Transfiguration, smiling approvingly at her every now and then.