Hag Tales

IV. The One with the Disinclined Heiress

"Miss Black, will you please remain for a few minutes after class?"

It isn't a request, of course, and Andromeda catches Meg Avery's eye as she gathers her books. Meg makes her fish-face, and Andromeda has to bite her tongue to keep from laughing aloud.

When the last student has filed out, McGonagall shuts the door with a flick of her wand and gestures for Andromeda to approach the desk.

"I'm concerned about your lack of progress in my class," McGonagall says. "I'm afraid if things don't improve, you have little hope of achieving a better-than-Acceptable O.W.L."

A flush heats Andromeda's cheeks, but her voice remains steady. She won't let this woman see her shame.

"I'm sorry, Professor."

"I should be very sorry indeed if you were to receive a low mark. You've done quite well until recently, and I had hoped you might join my N.E.W.T. class next year."

Andromeda knows McGonagall is waiting for an answer, but there is none to give. She's simply lost interest in her studies. She doesn't know why.

McGonagall removes her glasses and comes out from around the desk. Andromeda notices that she's not as tall as she once seemed. There's a smattering of freckles powdering McGonagall's nose. Why has she not Charmed them off? Even Cissy can do the spell now, and she, Andromeda, and Bella do one another's shoulders at the end of each summer. It stings for days, but they don't want to look like charwitches. Mother always says that a witch's skin is her calling card, and Andromeda knows what Mother would make of one who couldn't be bothered to deal with a few freckles.

"Miss Black?"

Oops. The question of the freckles has distracted her, and she's missed what McGonagall is saying to her.

"Professor?"

"I asked if you would like to have some extra lessons."

"With you?"

Amusement flits across McGonagall's lips, making Andromeda's cheeks burn anew.

"With me."

"I don't think so, thank you."

McGonagall's lips purse for a fleeting moment, and Andromeda finds herself babbling.

"I'm very busy. And it doesn't really matter if I get a good Transfiguration O.W.L."

"I see."

A miasma of disappointment hangs between them. After a moment, McGonagall puts her glasses on and goes back around her desk, clearly signalling the end of the interview.

Andromeda says nothing, but there's a queer, empty feeling in her belly.

When she gets to the Slytherin common room and tells Meg about the meeting, Meg gives a derisive snort.

"Why would anyone want to spend extra time on Transfiguration? I mean, it's fine if you're naturally good at it, but it's not as if we're going to need N.E.W.T.-level skills."

"You need them for certain jobs," says Andromeda, not quite sure why she's putting up even this weak argument.

Meg shrugs. "Well, of course that's what she thinks about. She never tries to see things from our point of view. She's a mudblood—not that there's anything wrong with that—but they don't have the obligations that we do. She's never going to marry anyone important and run a big house, is she? She can afford to spend her time reading and worrying about O.W.L.s and such."

Andromeda's belly clenches a little as she thinks about Malfoy Manor. She's only been there twice, although she and Lucius have been betrothed since she was five. The manor is gorgeous. Beautiful and cold, like its occupants. She can't picture herself living there, presiding over that long table, sleeping in one of its gilded bedrooms with its gilded master, commanding its army of house-elves to cater perfectly to his every whim.

Over the next few days, Andromeda can feel McGonagall's eyes on her as she tries and repeatedly fails to Transfigure her rat into a teacup.

On Friday, she pretends to have left her quill behind and returns to the Transfiguration room after class.

"Yes, Miss Black?" McGonagall says. "How can I help you?"

"I was wondering if I could change my mind?"

"About?"

"Extra lessons. I'd like to have them. If you're still willing to teach me."

The lessons begin the next day. McGonagall spends an hour going over incantations and wand movements, and by the end of it, Andromeda has managed the rat-to-teacup Transfiguration, although her cup still has a little fur around the rim.

After the fourth lesson, though, Andromeda is easily changing rats, budgies, and newts into all manner of other things, and back again.

"Excellent, Miss Black," McGonagall says when the inkpot changes back into a horned toad and lets out an indignant croak. "Not a drop of ink spilled. I think you're on track for at least an Exceeds Expectations on your O.W.L." McGonagall's eyes are bright, and her smile reaches them, which, Andromeda has noticed, isn't always the case when she praises a student.

"Thanks, Professor." Andromeda feels absurdly pleased by her teacher's pleasure.

"Have you reconsidered studying Transfiguration at N.E.W.T. level?" McGonagall asks.

"Not really, no."

"May I ask why not?"

"It isn't exactly practical, is it? All this changing things into other things? I mean, most of what I'll need to do can be done with Charms, and they're much easier."

McGonagall's eyebrow raises a fraction towards her hairline.

"Not always," she says. "And while Charms are indeed practical, it can be useful to know how to change the nature of a thing."

"But is Transfiguration really changing a thing's nature? You told us that a beetle is always a beetle, even if it takes the form of a butter knife."

"That is true. But changing the form of a thing can change its nature, if it is open to all the possibilities. You, for example, will always be Andromeda Black, but what Andromeda Black will be remains to be seen."

"Will I still be Andromeda Black when I become Madam Malfoy?"

She means it as a joke, or thinks she does, but McGonagall doesn't smile.

"Yes," Professor McGonagall says. "If that should come to pass. But you will also be Andromeda Malfoy. And the nature of the person who will be called Andromeda Malfoy will be up to you."

McGonagall takes out her wand and points it at the toad, which has hopped its way down the desk and is eyeing the distance between it and the floor. The toad disappears with a small pop.

"The primary lesson of Transfiguration is that whatever form outside circumstances force upon a sentient being, it has the power to define what it is in itself. What makes Transfiguration so difficult, and ultimately, so useful, is the ability to draw out the possibilities of what is already there." She pauses, peering at Andromeda. "It can be a painful process. You see, we, all of us, encompass multitudes, Miss Black."

Andromeda feels herself flush under McGonagall's gaze.

"Um. Okay. Well ... anyway ... thank you for the extra lessons, Professor."

McGonagall's smile has returned, and she flicks her wand to open the classroom door.

"You're most welcome, Miss Black."

As Andromeda heads back to the Slytherin common room, she feels lighter in her skin, as if she's shed a heavy cloak.

Andromeda Black is who I am, she thinks. But what I will be is up to me.