#young minerva

[misscrimsondawn]

student! Minerva McGonagall

so far only a cat, which will later become a lioness

[celeste-aura]

Mood board for my story Collision, Alastor Moody.

Check it out on AO3 and Wattpad.

Collision

Albus Dumbledore x Minerva McGonagall Collision- An encounter when things or people collide. resulting in exchange or t...

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[honeyandmagic]

Young Minerva McGonagall

[celeste-aura]

Hey Guys this is my first try at a fanfiction. I have always loved the pairing of Albus Dumbledore x Minerva McGonagall. There are good fanfictions out there but not many. I used to always search for their pairing and now I have run out of fanfiction and this idea was in my mind for a long time so I thought of writing it. I don't have a beta so there might be a few mistakes, please bare with me. Anyway Albus and Minerva fans please check this out if you like.

Collision

Albus Dumbledore x Minerva McGonagall It shows how Albus and Minerva got together. I do not own anyone except my origin...

It's currently only on Wattpad, I'll try posting on AO3 and here also. It's still ongoing but checkout and let me know if its good.

[wildestdreamcatcher]

I’m simping for Young Mcgonagall

Minerva Mcgonagall needs her own movie series

[squibstress]

One to Keep an Eye On - Minvember Day 4

For the prompt: Trandfiguration.

(Fits into the universe of the Epithalamium series.)

One to Keep an Eye On

The children filed into the classroom, quieter than they’d ever be again, Albus knew. The first-years were always a little awed by their first day at Hogwarts.

“You may take whatever seats you like,” he said.

When they’d all settled, more or less, he said, “I am Albus Dumbledore, and I will be your Transfiguration teacher for at least the next five years Assuming I don’t manage to get myself the sack before then.”

The children shifted uneasily, but he smiled at them to let them know it had been a joke.

He came out from behind the desk and leant against it—a casual posture meant to put the students at ease.

“The textbooks will tell you that Transfiguration is the art and science of changing one thing into another thing. They are half right.”

The students perked up at the prospect of a teacher criticising their textbooks.

“It is indeed both art and science, but it has little to do with changing things. Rather, Transfiguration is a drawing out of that which is already there.

“At its most basic, it is simply a rearrangement of atoms to form molecules that represent new structures. Do you all know what atoms and molecules are?”

Only one hand rose, belonging to a pale girl with long black plaits.

“Yes, Miss . . . ?”

“McGonagall, sir.”

“Miss McGonagall. Can you provide us with a definition of atoms and molecules?”

“I think so, sir. Atoms are the tiny bits of matter that make up . . . well, everything. They come together to form molecules, which have the chemical properties and can have chemical reactions, so they’re part of everything that’s alive, and a lot of things that aren’t alive.”

The other students looked at her as if she’d just turned into a hydra. She seemed unaware of their reaction.

Albus smiled at her reassuringly. “An excellent explanation, Miss McGonagall. Five points to Gryffindor.”

This last perked up the Gryffindors in the classroom considerably, although the Hufflepuffs looked a bit put out.

“Transfiguration depends upon understanding how we can, and cannot, rearrange atoms and molecules according to our will. To begin our journey to that understanding, I’d like you all to open your textbooks to page twenty-three and read the section on the atomic structure of wood and how it differs from that of steel.”

Thirteen sets of A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration were dutifully taken from bags and set on desks.

“Can I have a volunteer to read the first entry for us?” Albus asked.

No one stirred. Miss McGonagall looked around, then raised her hand.

“Thank you for your willingness, Miss McGonagall, but I think I’d like to hear from one of your classmates this time.” He walked up the aisle and let his hand fall on the shoulder of a tawny-haired Hufflepuff.

“Mr?”

“Brewster, sir.”

“Mr Brewster, perhaps you’d be so kind as to oblige us.”

The boy read, his halting soprano barely loud enough for Albus to hear, so he cast a surreptitious Sonorus to amplify Brewster’s voice.

When he was finished, Albus awarded five points to Hufflepuff for his “fine rendition of chapter one.”

He spent the next half hour lecturing on the elements that went into a successful Transfiguration, coaxing the students, one by one, to puzzle out the answers to simple questions. The McGonagall girl provided her answers without hesitation, and often with more thought and detail than he would have expected from a first-year.

The students sat up a little straighter when he went to his desk to retrieve a box of matches.

“Let’s see if you can put what we’ve discussed into action. Miss Levi, would you be so kind as to help me distribute these matches? One to a customer.”

Once each student had a matchstick, Albus instructed them on the wand movement required to change their matchsticks to needles. It was a simple one, as many of the students would be attempting to wield their new wands for the very first time, and he’d learned by unhappy experience that having a new class of first-years attempt anything more than a simple swish-and-flick could lead to chaos.

“Now, I want you to start by envisioning the atoms that make up the matchstick moving around until they form themselves into a needle. It doesn’t matter if you can’t picture the atomic structures exactly—precision isn’t necessary here. A general idea, plus the intent to effect the change, and a clear incantation with a crisp wand movement should be enough. Ready? One, two, three!”

Wands swished and flicked, and incantations were said at various volumes and degrees of accuracy. Nothing happened to any of the matchsticks beyond a bit of quivering.

“Ah. No matter,” Albus said. “I didn’t expect anyone to get it on the first try. Let’s give it another go, and this time—”

“Sir?” Miss McGonagall’s hand was in the air.

“Yes?”

“I think I’ve done it.”

He was surprised, but not unduly so. Most classes couldn’t manage a successful Transfiguration until at least the third week, but every so often a student achieved it. He’d done it himself on the first go.

He approached her desk. Lyingn on it was what looked suspiciously like a perfect steel needle.

“Excellent work, Miss McGonagall. May I ask you to do it again so the rest of the class can see?”

“Yes, sir.”

He set another matchstick on her desk.

She took a breath, pointed her wand at it, and spoke the incantation.

“Mutatio acum!” Her wand swished and flicked with the precision of a conductor’s baton, and the matchstick barely shivered before turning in to a gleaming specimen of a needle.

“Well done! May I?”

He held out his hand for the needle, and when she handed it to him, it pricked his thumb.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” she said and immediately pulled a tartan handkerchief from her robe pocket and took his thumb between her fingers to dab at the bead of blood that had formed. “I should have been more careful.”

Her swift action surprised him, and it wasn’t until he heard the other students sniggering that he said, “No harm done.” She released his hand, and he looked at the thumb. Blood welled up from the wound, and he stuck it absently in his mouth, still wondering at the child’s ability and her quiet dignity.

“Five more points to Gryffindor for a perfect Transfiguration,” he said. “I’m sure the rest of you will get the hang of it soon. Mr Prewett, will you please collect everyone’s matches? Can’t have you all burning down your common rooms, can I?”

With the matches safely stowed away, he said, “Homework is to acquaint yourselves with the work of one Hieronymous Gamp and his Law of Elemental Transfiguration, which you’ll find in chapter two of your textbook. I’d like you each to write a list of ten things that can be Transfigured and ten things that cannot, based on what you read. To be handed in first thing on Thursday. You are dismissed, and I wish you all a very pleasant day.”

As the students gathered their things, he caught Miss McGonagall’s eye and couldn’t help winking at her. She gave him the briefest of smiles and hurried out.

That will be one to keep an eye on, he thought as he watched her disappear down the corridor.

[scrxpz]

Minvember Day 1: Youth

Perhaps it was the prospect of her final year approaching. Maybe it was the need for some sort of entertainment outside the ever growing pile of homework she had acquired. Whatever the reason for it, she had one statement on the outcome of her boredom. She regretted absolutely nothing. 

It was a Monday, a rather fine one at that. Summer was in the air as well as the impending stress of final exams. Rolling out of bed she looked at her uniform and decided that if she was going to spend the day studying, she was going to do so comfortably. With a final stretch, she reached for her wand and transfigured her heavy midi skirt into a pair of mens trousers. Smiling at her work, she pulled them on along with her shirt and tie, taking extra care in pinning her Head Girl badge above the school crest. She still wore her heels though. She had grown to like the authoritative sound they gave when they hit the flagstone. She ran a brush through her hair and decided she didn’t have it in her to pin it into the mandated victory curls or braid. Collecting her bag and wand she headed down to the common room, casting a few enchantments to prevent staff (or students), from changing her chosen attire. 

The common room was alive this morning, students of every age chattering about their upcoming summer adventures and the final quidditch match against Slytherin. Many people stopped to look at her, some with disdain and others with confusion. She marched on though, eager for a good breakfast. On her way out, one of her friends, Ayla, decided to join her. 

“Professor Dumbledore is not going to be happy about this,” she whispered. They turned the corner and nodded politely to some Ravenclaws heading in the same direction. They ignored the fading whispers as they continued on their way. 

“Oh, I count on him being mad,” Minerva replied with a smile. Ayla shook her head with a laugh. 

And he was mad. As soon as she entered the transfiguration room, his face went from bright and cheery, to disappointed. She squared her shoulders and raised an eyebrow as if to say “what will you do about it?’’ as she took her seat. She took out her books and parchment and wrote down the date in preparation of the notes they were promised this class. Around her there were sniggers and wolf whistles from the people she called classmates. She knew there would be repercussions, but she didn’t expect it to hurt her so. She felt the tightness in her throat as Dumbledore cleared his throat, causing the murmuring to stop. 

“Welcome class,” he started in usual cheery tone. The class gave a quick “good morning professor” in kind. He nodded his head before continuing, “take out your parchment and quills,” there was a collective groan amongst the class, “today we will be taking notes on the properties of an animagus, a truly fascinating topic if I do say so myself. This will be on the exam so do keep up. Now who can tell me the first step in becoming an animagus?” Half of the class raised their hands, including Minerva who was practically bouncing in her seat. He let his gaze wander over the class before speaking. “I would call on miss McGonagall, but she appears to be out of uniform.” The class laughed and she caught her beloved professors eyes. She lowered her hand and tried to ignore that voice in her head that screamed I told you so. It was a low blow, perhaps harder than he meant it to be. At least that's what she told herself. She knew she was going to get in trouble. She had counted on it. But this? Public humiliation?

She doesn’t recall who answered the question, or the one after that. She was robotic, taking her notes diligently and with practiced formality until the bell rang. She bolted from the class, before someone caught up to her and she debated going to change her clothes back. She studied the way the pants felt when she walked, the way they moved with each long stride. It felt freeing, addicting in a way she didn’t think they would be. She wasn’t about to give that up just yet. So out of spite for the professor she trusted, she walked to her next class, raven hair flowing freely behind her and a new sense of purpose flowing through her.

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Day 1!! Im so excited for this challenge, although I will probably be doing these well into December (rip). I always thought of Minerva as a bit of a rule breaker but in a passionate sort of way. Idk. These will be going on AO3 once they are all completed, and I will post a link then. Thank you so much and please check out @mmad-lover s blog to view the prompts and some of the other submissions. They are amazing!! - E

[bananabraiined-moved]

This is her dream to become one of her homeland's finest.