Post by Kierah on Jan 19, 2006 21:01:49 GMT -5
Title: Aspera Spina
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Minerva McGonagall’s life from Hogwartshood to adulthood. [Various ships, implied and shown, AD/MM main.]
Disclaimer: Och, et’s not mine, aye?
She wiped her eyes and tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear- sleep had yet to come to her that night. Tired as she was, the bliss of dreamland seemed to view her as a rock in its flow- going around her and most likely reaching everyone else in the castle. She gave the grandfather clock nearby a glance, and winced. Nearly midnight. She shut her eyes for as long as she could manage and opened them a while later. A half-hour had passed, and she was exhausted and bored out of her skull. Damn her nonexistent store of Dreamless Sleep.
Shoving the covers away, she swung her legs over the side of her bed and tucked her chilly feet into the slippers that waited for them. Then she rose, striding to her closet and pulling out a tartan dressing gown. Tugging it around her slim frame, she moved silently out of her bedroom and into her private study. Pushing the paperwork that littered her desk away, she sat in the chair- no, it was too hard, and she transfigured it into a patented Albus-chintz armchair- and pulled out spare parchment- barely a scrap- and grabbed for a Self-Inking Quill. She knew what to write.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
The first time she saw him was when she was a first-year. She, a mere stick of an eleven-year-old, had looked at him in his gaudy purple robes and smiled. Even as a child, Minerva McGonagall smiled very little, and when she did, she knew from reports that it gave one a sort of light tingle that ran through their body. She had always regarded the world with a critical eye, and to receive the famed smile of a McGonagall was an honor.
She was given a smile in return, and just as the McGonagall smile was renowned throughout the wizarding world and beyond, his was patented and an invention that could be used only by a true member of his kind. Minerva was a recipient of the smile- and it made her feel self-conscious and strangely giddy all at once. She pulled her first-year’s dark gray robes around her and blushed as the auburn-haired man winked at her.
Albus Dumbledore was the most handsome man she had ever met.
Rolanda Ehren- one of her best friends, albeit the most mischievous one- squeezed her hand as Albus called, “Ehren, Rolanda!” Minerva gave her a nod of reassurance as her friend stepped up to the stool and sat obediently. The hat dropped onto her head, and it contemplated the contents of her mind for a moment before shouting,
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
She clapped for her friends as the names rolled by. How much time passed? Minutes? Hours? Half-hours? It seemed an eternity before her name was called.
“McGonagall, Minerva!”
He had even said ‘McGonagall’ properly. She approached, adjusting her small rectangular glasses, and sat on the stool. As soon as the cloth of the hat touched her head, she felt an inevitable sensation of something icy passing through her.
Hmm, brave- very brave, eh, young lady? purred a raspy voice in her head. And so intelligent- my dear, I do believe- hmm- you do realize there is a prophecy about you? And cunning, yes, cunning and loyal- my oh my, but you wouldn’t fit in Hufflepuff or Slytherin. Perhaps Ravenclaw?
What? she nearly jumped out of the seat. There’s- there’s a prophecy about me?
Yes indeed, let’s see if this old hat can remember it. Rowena told it to me one day- no, it’s slipping, I cannot remember.
Can’t you try?
I believe it says something about thrice times three your heart will be broken when the man of your heart is right before you. And, let’s see, something about power untold. Ah, but we’re wasting time, let’s see, you’ll have to be…
“GRYFFINDOR!”
She still didn’t smile- her happiness shone through her eyes. She sat promptly at the Gryffindor table where a third-year stuck out her hand. The third-year’s hair was white-blonde and strands fell into her limpid blue eyes as she shook Minerva’s hand rapidly. “Hi! En’t ye Minerva?” The girl’s brogue was thick and it made Minerva long for her home. “Ah’m Katia- och, ye poor wee bairns, ye look horrible, ye do,” she added, referring to the group of first years.
Minerva felt the brogue rush to her head and she slipped straight into her own, replying, “Aye, Katia, dinnae ye listen to th’professor?”
Katia nodded vigorously. “Tha’ be Professor Dumbledore. We’ll be friends, we will, aye?”
Minerva didn’t grin, only nodded as well and began heaping her plate as the feast began.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Katia Irvine!” Minerva called into the fireplace, tossing in a handful of glittering powder.
In the green flames appeared a familiar, lined face. “Och, what is it, Minerva? It’s three in the morning!” The brogue had all but disappeared over the years, Minerva recalled.
“I need your first memories of me, please, Katia.”
“Here, just a minute,” sighed Katia, and her face disappeared momentarily. She then stepped right out of the fireplace, wrapped in a silver dressing gown and carrying several vials.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Katia could tell that Minerva was not and would never be a great beauty. Her elegance, even at the age of eleven, seemed to prevent it entirely…
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Minerva McGonagall’s life from Hogwartshood to adulthood. [Various ships, implied and shown, AD/MM main.]
Disclaimer: Och, et’s not mine, aye?
She wiped her eyes and tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear- sleep had yet to come to her that night. Tired as she was, the bliss of dreamland seemed to view her as a rock in its flow- going around her and most likely reaching everyone else in the castle. She gave the grandfather clock nearby a glance, and winced. Nearly midnight. She shut her eyes for as long as she could manage and opened them a while later. A half-hour had passed, and she was exhausted and bored out of her skull. Damn her nonexistent store of Dreamless Sleep.
Shoving the covers away, she swung her legs over the side of her bed and tucked her chilly feet into the slippers that waited for them. Then she rose, striding to her closet and pulling out a tartan dressing gown. Tugging it around her slim frame, she moved silently out of her bedroom and into her private study. Pushing the paperwork that littered her desk away, she sat in the chair- no, it was too hard, and she transfigured it into a patented Albus-chintz armchair- and pulled out spare parchment- barely a scrap- and grabbed for a Self-Inking Quill. She knew what to write.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
The first time she saw him was when she was a first-year. She, a mere stick of an eleven-year-old, had looked at him in his gaudy purple robes and smiled. Even as a child, Minerva McGonagall smiled very little, and when she did, she knew from reports that it gave one a sort of light tingle that ran through their body. She had always regarded the world with a critical eye, and to receive the famed smile of a McGonagall was an honor.
She was given a smile in return, and just as the McGonagall smile was renowned throughout the wizarding world and beyond, his was patented and an invention that could be used only by a true member of his kind. Minerva was a recipient of the smile- and it made her feel self-conscious and strangely giddy all at once. She pulled her first-year’s dark gray robes around her and blushed as the auburn-haired man winked at her.
Albus Dumbledore was the most handsome man she had ever met.
Rolanda Ehren- one of her best friends, albeit the most mischievous one- squeezed her hand as Albus called, “Ehren, Rolanda!” Minerva gave her a nod of reassurance as her friend stepped up to the stool and sat obediently. The hat dropped onto her head, and it contemplated the contents of her mind for a moment before shouting,
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
She clapped for her friends as the names rolled by. How much time passed? Minutes? Hours? Half-hours? It seemed an eternity before her name was called.
“McGonagall, Minerva!”
He had even said ‘McGonagall’ properly. She approached, adjusting her small rectangular glasses, and sat on the stool. As soon as the cloth of the hat touched her head, she felt an inevitable sensation of something icy passing through her.
Hmm, brave- very brave, eh, young lady? purred a raspy voice in her head. And so intelligent- my dear, I do believe- hmm- you do realize there is a prophecy about you? And cunning, yes, cunning and loyal- my oh my, but you wouldn’t fit in Hufflepuff or Slytherin. Perhaps Ravenclaw?
What? she nearly jumped out of the seat. There’s- there’s a prophecy about me?
Yes indeed, let’s see if this old hat can remember it. Rowena told it to me one day- no, it’s slipping, I cannot remember.
Can’t you try?
I believe it says something about thrice times three your heart will be broken when the man of your heart is right before you. And, let’s see, something about power untold. Ah, but we’re wasting time, let’s see, you’ll have to be…
“GRYFFINDOR!”
She still didn’t smile- her happiness shone through her eyes. She sat promptly at the Gryffindor table where a third-year stuck out her hand. The third-year’s hair was white-blonde and strands fell into her limpid blue eyes as she shook Minerva’s hand rapidly. “Hi! En’t ye Minerva?” The girl’s brogue was thick and it made Minerva long for her home. “Ah’m Katia- och, ye poor wee bairns, ye look horrible, ye do,” she added, referring to the group of first years.
Minerva felt the brogue rush to her head and she slipped straight into her own, replying, “Aye, Katia, dinnae ye listen to th’professor?”
Katia nodded vigorously. “Tha’ be Professor Dumbledore. We’ll be friends, we will, aye?”
Minerva didn’t grin, only nodded as well and began heaping her plate as the feast began.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Katia Irvine!” Minerva called into the fireplace, tossing in a handful of glittering powder.
In the green flames appeared a familiar, lined face. “Och, what is it, Minerva? It’s three in the morning!” The brogue had all but disappeared over the years, Minerva recalled.
“I need your first memories of me, please, Katia.”
“Here, just a minute,” sighed Katia, and her face disappeared momentarily. She then stepped right out of the fireplace, wrapped in a silver dressing gown and carrying several vials.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Katia could tell that Minerva was not and would never be a great beauty. Her elegance, even at the age of eleven, seemed to prevent it entirely…
I remember you told me you were going to write something. You have such a lovely style and a way with words. <3 I can't wait to see what happens and who the three are that break her heart. 
