Chapter Text
“I have reservations.”
All eyes turned to Minerva McGonagall, Head Mistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when her voice cut through the current discussion around the conference table, silencing the entire faculty.
After a moment of consideration, Filius Flitwick cleared his throat and questioned, “Reservations? But we are discussing Hermione Granger…”
“I am aware, Filius.”
“But, it’s Hermione, Minerva. She is probably the most qualified person for this position. She is a tri-master with honors in Transfiguration.”
“And that is part of the problem. She is highly overqualified.”
“Tosh!” Rolanda Hooch spat in annoyance. “The girl would be a breath of fresh air in this dreary citadel.”
“We do not need excitement, Rolanda. We need a capable, reliable instructor for a volatile subject.”
Neville Longbottom, professor of Herbology and contemporary of Hermione Granger thoughtfully interjected, “What are your other concerns, Minerva?”
Put on the spot, Minerva pursed her lips in annoyance as she tried to quickly form a plausible list of potential obstacles.
“Australia?” She began, with a voice full of contempt.
“The Mundaring Academy of Magic is a highly reputable institution, Minerva.” Pamona Sprout soothed. “They have turned out a number of eminent scholars, both witches, and wizards.”
Minerva flashed a resentful glare at Pamona and scrambled for more evidence.
“I question her reliability.”
“Her reliability,” Filius repeated his voice flat and incredulous.
“Yes, her reliability. She just ran off to Australia on a whim, deserting all manner of relationships and obligations.”
As the words left her mouth, Minerva knew she was drifting into danger. Changing tactics, she landed on a valid consideration.
“What of her soundness? She could be suffering from post-traumatic stress and we have no way of knowing. What if she suffers night terrors or flashbacks? What if she is triggered by something during a class and lashes out? Children could get hurt.”
Neville protectively countered that point. “Hermione is the sanest and most stable one of us. She is the one responsible for keeping Harry on his quest, the one who solidified the ‘golden trio’ and pushed them to succeed. And she is the one who sat by you at your sickbed, willing you to heal. I don’t think you need to question her mental stability.” Blowing out a breath of frustration, he calmly continued, “But, I’m sure if you are forthright with her and address this subject honestly, she would most likely agree to an examination, or perhaps attend recommended therapy sessions to alleviate your apprehension.”
Minerva considered Neville’s argument as she observed the reactions of all the others at the table. With a single, definitive nod she agreed. “Very well. As it is your inclination to admit Miss Granger into our association, I will offer her a probationary position as Transfiguration professor. If she agrees, as Mr. Longbottom believes she will, to the conditions of an initial examination and guidance sessions through her novitiate.”
Dear Ms. Granger,
I am pleased to inform you the board of governors of the Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry wishes to offer you a professorship position in Transfiguration for the 2011-2012 school year.
Be advised, due to a scarcity of your employment history, there will be certain conditions required of you. If you do wish to pursue this role, I will be available to meet with you prior to your final decision to discuss the stipulations.
Please respond by 6 July with your intent to accept.
Sincerely,
M McGonagall
Headmistress, Hogwarts.
Hermione read the letter thirty times. The handwriting was definitely Minerva McGonagall’s but the message felt remarkably cold. After pondering the note over a glass of wine she decided to place a fire call to Harry Potter; friend, confidant, and comrade in arms. With a flick of her hand, she ignited the floo network and placed her call.
“Harry? Are you available?”
“Hermione, what’s the matter?”
“Are you free for a quick meeting?”
“When?”
“Now?”
“Um, yeah. Sure.”
Hermione emerged from the fireplace, brushing soot from her clothes as she stepped into his den.
“So? What’s wrong?” Harry questioned.
“This.” Hermione handed the letter over. “What do you make of it?”
“You’ve been offered the professorship. Good work, ‘Mione.”
“Not the subject.” Hermione sighed in exasperation, “the tone.”
“Oh, well…seems typical of Professor McGonagall.”
“Do you think, Harry. I mean, really?”
At Harry’s blank expression, Hermione continued.
“Don’t you think it sounds a little cold from a teacher to a favored student?”
“Well, it is a professional correspondence. Maybe she’s just trying to keep it above board.”
“Maybe. Anyway, I’ll need to reply to arrange a meeting.” Hermione plopped down into an overstuffed chair and glanced at Harry from under her bangs, “So, What’s for dinner?”
Harry grinned at his friend. “I knew there was an ulterior motive.” He laughed. “Good thing I already told Ginny you were headed over. She’s set your place. Come on.”