Chapter 157: Professor McGonagall's Past
No matter how elegant or mysterious a fairy might seem, she still has to use the toilet and take off her shoes at the end of the day—fairy tales aside, Christmas at Hogwarts was as vibrant and chaotic as ever.
For Alexander Smith, however, this holiday was a bit of a letdown. He remained at school, trapped in a half-empty dormitory with two first-years—Harry Potter and Ron Weasley—whose recent adventures had left them alarmingly close to the likes of Dumbledore and Grindelwald in terms of boldness.
As a flawless, dreamy "young man" who theoretically did not need to eat, sleep, or use the bathroom, Alexander couldn't help but feel... bored.
Sure, if he wanted, he could easily become the center of attention this Christmas, just as he had on Sorting Day. A snap of his fingers, and Hogwarts would become as lively—or scandalous—as he desired.
But as a 21st-century model youth (with the conscience of a red-scarfed moral guardian, no less), his education and sense of restraint prevented such mischief.
Instead, Alexander went to the Great Hall to pass the time, watching the Weasley twins swap their Gryffindor jumpers for blue ones and drag Ron across to the Ravenclaw table, laughing the whole way.
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"Merry Christmas!"
"Hey—look! Even Harry's got a Weasley sweater!" Fred grinned.
"His looks nicer than either of ours," George said, poking at Harry's chest. "Mum must've put in extra care for someone outside the family!"
"Yours is dark purple, Ron," Fred added. "Very regal."
George complained dramatically, "Percy the model prefect only agreed to wear his after we explained that it was a prefect's duty."
"He even wanted to sit with the prefects today."
"Christmas is a time for family reunion," the twins chanted in unison.
But Alexander noticed something odd: Fred and George had switched sweaters. Fred was wearing one with a "G", and George had an "F". They were messing with everyone again.
Even Percy, who sat stiffly in his corner, kept glancing at their jumpers suspiciously. Harry and Ron exchanged confused looks, clearly unsure whether to believe the twins' story.
Alexander sighed. Honestly, Ron—how do you never notice these things? Did you fall on your head as a baby?
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When it came to Christmas at Hogwarts, turkey was mandatory.
The feast was truly grand: over a hundred golden roast turkeys, mountains of glazed ham and crispy potatoes, platters of sausages and buttered peas, bowls of rich gravy and bright lingonberry sauce. Between every few seats, wizarding crackers and magical firecrackers waited to be pulled.
From one such firecracker, Alexander was engulfed in blue smoke—only for it to clear and reveal a tiny hamster standing proudly in front of him.
"Oh! You little thing," Alexander said in delight. He reached into thin air and summoned a miniature hamster habitat—complete with hay bedding, a polished running wheel, food tray, water bottle, and a three-tiered ladder.
"I'll call you Dr. Hamster Wheel," he announced grandly, placing the creature inside and relocating it to a safe corner of Smith's Castle. He summoned Jack, the tiny castle's caretaker, and instructed him to watch over the newcomer.
Only then did Alexander remember Jerry, his black kitten the size of a teacup, from the same generation as Jack.
He had to move Jerry out temporarily—Dr. Hamster Wheel's life depended on it.
As if summoned by name, the tiny black kitten grumbled and growled like a miniature motorcycle. Still half-asleep, he nestled his head into Alexander's pocket and drifted back to sleep.
Dr. Hamster Wheel might have a bright future, but his fellow rodents? Not so much. A group of enchanted white mice had emerged from a nearby firecracker in front of Harry, only to vanish moments later. A telltale swish of a tail confirmed it: Mrs. Norris had taken care of them.
Alexander, ever soft-hearted toward small animals, chose not to confirm it too closely.
Harry seemed bothered by it too, barely reacting to the ridiculous rear admiral's hat that exploded from his own cracker.
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At the head table, no one was holding back either. Professor Dumbledore swapped his usual wizard's cap for a bonnet covered in flowers. Hagrid, already drunk, kissed Professor McGonagall on the cheek. She giggled—giggled!—and her tall black witch's hat drooped sideways as she blushed.
The sight reminded Alexander of something curious he'd discovered recently—Professor McGonagall had been married.
Her husband was Elphinstone Urquart, a respected Ministry official and her superior in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The two had shared a home in Hogsmeade—until a tragic accident. Elphinstone had died from a bite by a Venomous Tentacula, and after that, Minerva never returned to the house. She kept to her office on the second floor of Hogwarts, retreating from the world.
What surprised Alexander more was that she had two younger brothers, both wizards, and several nieces and nephews. Thankfully, none were named Fisch McGonagall.
That guy… Fisch Magnak Traveler… If he were related to Professor McGonagall, Alexander might've gone mad.
He silently offered a toast to Elphinstone. Hagrid had always been single, so at least McGonagall hadn't been romantically involved with him, right?
According to what Alexander had found, Professor McGonagall's true love had been her first fiancé—a Muggle farm boy named Dougal McGregor, from her hometown.
But the laws of the time had made their relationship impossible.
Wizards and witches working in the Ministry of Magic weren't allowed to marry Muggles unless they were willing to give up their wand, hide their magic forever, and live fully in the Muggle world—without ever revealing their secret, unless their child turned out to be a wizard too.
While these laws didn't apply as harshly to non-Ministry citizens (who could simply pay a fine or sneak around the rules), for McGonagall, it meant a choice between her career and her heart.
She chose her wand.
Years later, Elphinstone began courting her. She rejected him for years—until the day she learned of Dougal's death.
She finally accepted Elphinstone's proposal. But even after marriage, she kept her surname—"McGonagall," inherited from her Muggle father. A bold, nearly unheard-of decision in the wizarding world at the time.
Alexander raised his pumpkin juice in silent respect.
"Poor Elphinstone," he thought.
The past had its tragedies—but the present still shimmered, filled with magic, laughter, and, of course, hamsters on wheels.
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(End of Chapter 157)