"Remarkable!" She almost couldn't help but preen as she read through Sirius Black's parchment of notes, or thoughts on her subject. And only a day into it. "Such a keen mind," She added on, albeit with more control.
And if her sudden appreciation for the student had anything to do with the fact he'd been placed into her house, well. Who could really blame her?
To her side, she idly watched as Albus Dumbledore simply waved his wand around, scanning the boy's runic seal. His sole focus since the moment he'd entered the room.
"You don't suppose his father had him prepare for the lesson?" She questioned curiously, it certainly wouldn't have been the first time. She kept her watch on the man currently making another wave with his wand arm. Sparks of magic littered her view for a moment before dissipating completely. "Though I don't quite recall he ever held much interest in the subject himself," She added on after a moment's thought. Her own gaze travelled back towards the parchments in hand.
The boy's ability to seemingly connect out of touch things should've been beyond his years. It had, after all, taken her reaching the O.W.L stages before she'd even started truly contemplating Gamp's laws surrounding food. Mostly because she'd never quite found a need to worry about such a thing. Yet the slightest mention of it from herself had led the boy to create a theory on it.
She had, of course, asked for a copy of what he'd written. Allowing him to keep the original for himself, even if he'd shown the barest of interest on the matter.
She had admittedly been on guard regarding the current Black family heir, a fact not at all helped by the boy's sense of humour. It wasn't every day a Black willingly got himself sorted into Gryffindor, even if it wasn't entirely in his control. In fact, from the moment she'd seen his name on the register, she'd practically assumed he would be Horace's problem. Her opinion had, of course, markedly changed the moment she'd found out of his more... Seer-like quality. And the trouble it more than likely must've given him during his earlier years. A fact that, to her bemusement, seemed to push Dumbledore towards the other side. He had himself briefly convinced the both of them of the fact, yet the moment he seemed to receive proof of it, he'd jumped onto other possible conclusions.
The man had effectively told her as much as soon as the boy had left.
Following his first lesson as her student, however, and the way he seemed to so quickly soak up knowledge; needless to say, she no longer had any qualms about teaching the future Black family head. If anything, a part of her almost looked forward to it.
"Albus?" McGonagall called out, somewhat warily, at the man's silence. He'd been focused on the numbers engraved into the boy's desk since he'd shown up. The man hadn't so much as bothered to read through the copied parchment on the subject; albeit besides confirming the fact the writing itself more than likely came from his thoughts.
Still, unlike her previous attempts at getting the man to speak, this time seemed to have finally succeeded. The man pointedly lowered his wand, briefly gazing at the numbers engraved on the currently turned over table for a moment longer, before turning towards her.
Frankly, all things considered, the grave look on his face only confused her more.
Still, before she could question him on what she had found- Her eyes briefly widening as she focused her gaze on the man's visibly shaking wand arm. Crackles of magic echoed around the room, the man's eyes briefly closing as he seemed to focus on something; as of yet unseen to her.
After a moment of seemingly wrestling with his wand, Albus's shaking arm ceased, his wand finally calming the brief burst of magical energy.
"My wand, for some odd reason, doesn't seem to be very fond of the boy..." The older wizard briefly chuckled to himself, before shaking his head the slightest as he turned back towards her. The table before them flipping back over to its original face-up position without a missed beat.
"...I can't say the same," Minerva remarked, once again too warily for her taste. There was something wrong with the picture Albus seemed to be painting.
Why, if she didn't know any better, she'd say he was dreading something.
"It's terribly inefficient," The man remarked, seemingly to answer he unasked question. "This is powered by the magic in the air,"
When the man refused to say anything further, Minerva calmly asked him to explain his meaning.
"The use of numbers, and numbers alone in a more vibrant atmosphere, would've made it far more- Efficient. Alas, the magical energy that fills Hogwarts simply isn't vibrant enough."
She could practically taste the sudden cold that filled the room at the words. Her own mind racing as she jumped to her own conclusions.
"Which begs the question, on what it is actually using for its source given it is clearly working,"
"The child's surely-"
Only, to her mild irritation, the man elected to interrupt her; a steel glint in his eye.
"Sirius would've been placed in a coma, in the best of scenarios, had it chosen to use his own magic," Dumbledore took a single beat before continuing. "But that is not what worries me,"
"I am not quite sure I understand, if the boy is fine then the-"
Dumbledore promptly shook his head, "It's too inefficient, no matter how well it worked, there's simply no reason for the boy to know this in the first place,"
"... Surely you're overthinking this?"
"Minerva, this runic style, at the very least, is from an age long before the creation of this castle. Knowledge of any of it should've died down centuries ago. Long before the first Black landed on this continent." The man took in another deep breath, his gaze practically piercing her.
She'd never quite seen the man before her so serious about anything,
"I myself only learnt of it through a formerfriend... And even he'd never known enough to actually use it successfully," The man's silence quickly took over, her own words lost to her. The woman, for the first time in years, simply speechless.
"Yet here stands proof before my own eyes, of a child using knowledge that should've died out thousands of years ago, and I can't make any sense of it,"
Tentatively, she reached out towards the desk in question, ignoring the way it promptly flipped around onto it's back, her own eyes seeing the markings almost differently in light of what she'd just heard. Her own earlier worries, almost seemed minuscule in comparison as she felt herself fall onto the same mindset as the wizard before her. Her own worries escalating with every passing moment Dumbledore simply stared at her, almost as if he was waiting for some sort of explanation.
An explanation she didn't have.