From the Diaries of Minerva McGonagall: December 10, 1947

Dear Diary,

Today was my first Transfiguration exam: turning a mouse into a snuff box. Professor Dumbledore gave us all three tries, and I was worried that I wouldn’t pass on my first go. You still pass, even if it takes you three times, but I didn’t want to make any mistakes. Not with Professor Dumbledore watching me.

I got it right the first time, and the mouse squared its body into corners and sat still. What must it be like, to be a snuff box? Does it retain any memory of its mouse-ness? Can it hear me when I say the spell to turn it back? I wanted to open the lid, to see what was inside. What if I had seen mouse eyes staring at me? Or fur?

Everybody’s snuff box was different—everybody who passed, anyway. Some students’ boxes looked very ordinary. Mine had gold embedded into the lid, a pattern of roses with one little mouse poking its head from behind a petal. Professor Dumbledore smiled when he saw that.

I felt sad when we had to turn our mice back in after class. Where do they go? I suppose Professor Kettleburn must take care of them, since he is responsible for Care of Magical Creatures. Are mice magical? Are there Muggle mice? It’s funny how there’s so much to think about that I never considered before.

Only one of my fellow Gryffindor first-years is half-Muggle, like me. She knows what it means when I say that my father is a Presbyterian minister, and for us the word “transfiguration” means something entirely different, though it still describes the power to change someone’s form. It makes me wonder whether my father’s faith is also like magic; if, between my Muggle father and my witch mother, I got a double dose of transfiguration talent.

Professor Dumbledore says I am the most talented transfiguration student he has ever seen. I feel glad about that but also embarrassed, because I have often been told that I am the best at things, and it doesn’t seem fair. With spells you have to say the words properly, in the right order, and you have to move your wand in the right way. Why does my snuff box come out with gold leaf on it, and someone else’s come out just plain wood? We both said the same words.

It makes me wonder if magic is particular to people. If the world already has Muggles and wizards, it makes sense that magic might like some wizards more than others. It also makes me wonder if the students that magic doesn’t like as much can be taught to be just as good as the students like myself, who do their spells naturally.

I wonder if the other Gryffindors would like to set up a Transfiguration practice session, next term. I could ask Professor Dumbledore about using the room. We might need supervision, but it wouldn’t be much; he could read, if he wanted, and we could work on our spells. Even the students who aren’t especially set on pursuing Transfiguration for the O.W.L.S. have to see that the world is bigger than exams, and there must be a greater purpose for honing our skills if we were given that aptitude to begin with.

My friends are coming back from their afternoon exam, so I will close this diary entry and ask them how they did—and see if they are interested in forming a practice team next term!

Yours faithfully,

Minerva

Previously in the Diaries of Minerva McGonagall.

Of *course* Minerva was gifted and talented as a grommet wizard. How do you feel about your hypothetical Transfiguration skills?