Before she was Professor McGonagall, she was Minerva Macnair. After an arranged marriage forces her into an impossible situation, Minerva does what she must to survive. When she makes a new life for herself, her secrets follow and threaten everythin...
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"I'm here to tell you your N.E.W.T. results were as good as any I've seen, but from this point on, you know nothing."
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17 July 1944
"Well, Miss McGonagall—I mean Madam Macnair—did you manage to resist the attractions of Paris, or wherever it was you went, long enough get through the books I gave you?"
"Yes, Madam Marchbanks. And just 'Minerva' will be fine, if you please."
Griselda gave her new apprentice a brisk nod. She thought she'd probably be inviting the child to call her by her given name eventually, but for the moment, it wouldn't do to get too familiar. Not until she knew the McGonagall girl was going to stick it out.
Macnair. She's Macnair now, Zel. Best not to forget that.
"Good. As I'm sure you know, I expect you to complete every assignment I give you, on time, no excuses. Understood?"
"Yes, Madam Marchbanks."
"So, 'just Minerva', you have an impressive record in school, and I'm here to tell you your N.E.W.T. results were as good as any I've seen, but from this point on, you know nothing. Got it?"
"Yes, I think so."
Griselda narrowed her eyes at Minerva. "You 'think so'?"
"No, Madam Marchbanks. I know that I know nothing."
"Right. That's what I'm here for: to remedy the situation. You are here to learn what I teach, and to help me with my research once I've decided you've the brains to do it properly."
Griselda didn't fail to notice the gleam in Minerva's eye at that last.
"That appeals to you, does it? Helping me?" Griselda asked.
"Yes, Madam Marchbanks. It would be an honour."
"You bet your arse it would."
She watched Minerva carefully for any sign the girl was bothered by her language, and saw none.
