Itās Career Advice, and Ginny Weasley wants to be a Healer. Or at least, thatās what she tells Professor McGonagall.
One-shot from Ginnyās POV, set during Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I wrote it as a little break from my longer fic.
Ginny raised her hand to knock just as Harper Fawley burst out of McGonagallās office and nearly collided with her.
āMove it, Miss Chosen One,ā he sneered.
She rolled her eyes so hard it hurt, then stepped past him and slipped into her professorās office.
Since the news had broken about her and Harry, sheād been dodging comments from jealous girls and sore-loser boys who couldnāt handle losing at Quidditch to a girl.
For once in her life, she couldnāt care less what anyone thought.
āMiss Weasley. Good,ā Professor McGonagall said. āShut the door.ā
āHello, Professor,ā Ginny said brightly, stepping in. āWhat did Harper do this time?ā
āTried to make it rain on the girls in his common room,ā her teacher shared. āEnded up conjuring a cloud that followed him around all day. Mr Filch is furious.ā
āIdiot,ā Ginny grinned, pleased that Slytherin was in trouble.
McGonagall looked at her over the rim of her spectacles, the corner of her mouth twitching before she straightened her expression.
āQuite. But itās not your concern, Miss Weasley. Weāre here to discuss your future.ā
McGonagall flicked her wand, and a bundle of parchment scrolls lifted neatly off the corner of her desk.
āI have your grades and notes from your teachers right here, Miss Weasley,ā she explained. āWe can start.ā
Good with me, Ginny thought. Start and finish.
Career Advice was mandatory for fifth-years. Every student had to sit through at least one, even if you already knew what you wanted, even if you had better things to do than sit in a stone office with a portrait of some dead former Deputy Headmaster pretending to nap in the corner.
Ginny had watched her dormmate, Victoria Frobisher, schedule three extra consultations for the sheer thrill of it. Vicky treated career meetings like a new hobby. She made lists. She made more lists about the first lists. She sat on her bed at night, quill between her teeth, muttering pros and cons to herself. She also had an annoying habit of narrating every meeting afterwards in excruciating detail.
āWell, first Professor McGonagall said I should consider accountancy and I said, āWhat even is that?ā and then she said itās like Arithmancy but for grown-ups, and then she said I have a good mind for numbers and I said, āDo I?ā and then she saidā¦ā
Ginny had asked her to stop. Kindly, at first. Less kindly, later. Nothing worked. So Ginny perfected a sort of nod-and-hum routine.
And if Vicky still did not get the hint, Ginny would yawn, roll over, and fake falling asleep.
Vicky was the only other girl in Gryffindor in Ginnyās year. It was a small year, almost half of Ronās. Classes were shared across Houses more often than not, which meant Ginny had learned very quickly that a shocking number of her classmates were gits. So sheād made friends above and below her year. Quidditch helped with that. Quidditch helped with everything, really.
Flying had always been hers.
When she was little, it had been her secret. A thing tucked away in the crowded Burrow, where her brothersā games came with locked doors and shouted: āNot you, Ginny!ā The broom, stolen from the shed. The quiet moments. The feeling of leaving the ground and leaving all of them behind for a few clean, breathless seconds.
Now it was not a secret anymore. Now she wore the scarlet robes and the number on her back and snatched the Snitch in practice, just to annoy Harry and prove she was faster.
She loved the cold bite of wind. She loved the way the pitch fell away. She loved the quiet, thin slice of freedom you got in the sky.
And she loved, rather wildly, that she got to share it with Harry.
That was still new enough to make her feel fizzy all over. Exciting. Stupidly distracting. It was, at the moment, the only thing she wanted to think about.
Harry was waiting for her. Probably pretending he was not, leaning against some corridor wall with that casual posture that fooled no one who knew him well. She could almost see him, messy hair and that look on his face when he was trying not to look like he cared.
Maybe they would go flying after this. Flying with Harry. Maybe they would find a quiet patch of sky where no one could watch and no one could interrupt. Maybe they would snog a little, tooā¦
Ginny blinked. McGonagall paused with her quill mid-air, waiting.
āAs I said,ā McGonagall replied, āwe can start.ā
āRight. Good. Letās.ā
āProfessor, Iā¦ā Ginny trailed off. Career Advice, they called it. Youād think someone would actually advise her.
McGonagallās face stayed perfectly still.
āWho do you want to be, Miss Weasley? What career would you like to pursue after Hogwarts?ā
āYes?ā McGonagall sounded, unmistakably, annoyed.
Ginny had heard McGonagall had been a brilliant flyer. Maybe that was why she looked so impatient. Maybe sheād rather be up above the castle than trapped in an office with parchment and dusty booksā¦
āI want to be a Healer,ā Ginny blurted out at last.
McGonagallās eyebrows rose. A flicker of surprise, or perhaps relief that Ginny had finally said something.
āA Healer,ā McGonagall repeated. āVery well.ā
She looked down at the parchments.
āTo qualify for St Mungoās, youāll need strong NEWTs. Typically Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Herbology, and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Then an apprenticeship and training. It is competitive, Miss Weasley. A desire to do it is not enough.ā
āI know,ā Ginny said quickly. She did know. Hermione had explained it twice, with leaflets and diagrams.
McGonagall nodded as if Ginny had answered correctly in class.
āLetās look at what you have, and what you will need to improve.ā
She slid the top parchment from the pile.
āTransfiguration,ā she read. āExceeds Expectations. That is good work. Your practical spells are solid, and your essays have improved.ā
Ginny waited for the sting. McGonagall praised like she gave House points, sparingly and with a clear sense that you should not get used to it.
āYour conclusions are thoughtful,ā McGonagall continued. āYou do not always take the simplest route, which can be a flaw. It can also be a strength. You will be permitted into NEWT Transfiguration with an E. You may aim higher.ā
Ginny nodded, relieved. Transfiguration was not her favourite subject, but she liked the feeling of getting it right, of changing one thing into another through sheer stubbornness.
āCharms,ā McGonagall went on, and her mouth tightened in what might have been the ghost of approval. āProfessor Flitwick has you among the top three in your year.ā
Ginnyās chest warmed with pride before she could stop it.
āHe notes you are quick,ā McGonagall said, āand creative. He also notes you can beā¦ impatient.ā
Ginnyās ears burned. She was not impatient. She just did not like wasting time.
āThat is his word, not mine,ā McGonagall added, which did not help. āOverall, he grades you as Exceeds Expectations, but notes you have a real chance at Outstanding. Well done.ā
āDefence Against the Dark Artsā¦ā she said, and paused, measuring her next words. āGiven how many teachers youāve had, I canāt be certain where you are in the programme.ā
āWe covered the fifth-year material last year,ā Ginny said before she could stop herself. āYou know. In the DA.ā
McGonagallās eyes sharpened.
Ginny didnāt look away. She didnāt regret saying it. She had earned those spells, every single one. Theyād practised in the Room of Requirement until their wrists ached and their voices went hoarse, because no adult would teach them what they needed.
And later, those spells had saved them. At the Ministry. In the Department of Mysteries. Against the Death Eaters.
Afterwards, the Ministry had tried to hush them up, as if that changed anything. As if they could pretend installing Umbridge at Hogwarts had been anything but a disaster.
Ginny wasnāt planning on being quiet.
McGonagall studied her for a long moment. Then she said, very quietly, āI see.ā
āI know all the fifth-year material,ā Ginny added, a little too fast, āand some of sixth as well. Iām bored in class half the time.ā
āWell,ā McGonagall replied, āyour mark in Professor Snapeās class is Exceeds Expectations, so you are clearly performing well. If youāre bored, aim higher.ā
āProfessor Snape doesnāt give Outstandings,ā Ginny said. āI asked. I even told him I can do a Patronus. I learnt it last year. We all can. Harry taught us.ā
The words kept coming, unstoppable now.
āHeās a great teacher. Harry, I mean,ā Ginny added, and felt her cheeks go warm. āAnd youāre right about the Defence teachers. Mostly useless. Except Remus. But we caught up. Thanks to Harry.ā
McGonagallās eyes flicked briefly to the door, then back to Ginny. Her mouth tightened, as though she were about to say something she very much wanted to say.
She reached for the next parchment instead, composed.
āPotions,ā she finally said.
āAcceptable,ā McGonagall read, and there was no judgement in her voice, only fact. āAnd Herbology. Acceptable.ā
Ginny stared at a knot in the desk. She could feel the weight of those letters. A. A. Like two shut doors.
āProfessors Slughorn and Sprout accept only Exceeds Expectations or above into NEWT-level classes,ā McGonagall said. āIf becoming a Healer is your intention, that is a problem.ā
āI can fix it,ā Ginny said quickly. She could. She had fixed worse.
McGonagallās eyes flicked up.
āYes,ā Ginny said. āIāll ask for feedback. Iāll get the reading lists. Hermione said sheāll help. She already made me a study schedule.ā
McGonagall made a small noise that might have been amusement.
āProfessor Slughorn notes you are capable,ā she said. āHe also notes you lack precision. That you rush. That your temperā¦ā She looked up. āDo not glare, Miss Weasley. I am reading what he wrote.ā
Ginny forced her face blank. Sharing Potions with Slytherins made patience feel like an unreasonable request.
āProfessor Sprout notes much the same,ā McGonagall continued. āYou can do the work, but you do not always apply yourself. You appear uninterested.ā
āThatās not fair,ā Ginny said before she could stop herself.
McGonagallās gaze flicked to her again.
Ginny opened her mouth, then closed it. She did not want to defend herself. She did not want to explain that it was hard to care about Bubotubers when the Daily Prophet kept printing pictures of the missing. Some of them had only just left Hogwarts.
āItās fine,ā Ginny said, and made herself sound calm. āIāll work on it.ā
āGood.ā She set down the parchment. āNow.ā
Ginnyās pulse lifted. Now came the part where McGonagall said, Very well, Miss Weasley, do this, this, and this, and you may go.
Ginny leaned forward slightly, ready to bolt.
McGonagall did not push her chair back.
Instead she folded her hands neatly on the desk and looked Ginny straight in the eye.
Ginnyās shoulders went tight.
āWhy do you want to be a Healer?ā
