“Hello, Professor McGonagall,” said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.“What — what are you doing?” said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret’s progress through the air.“Teaching,” said Moody.“Teach — Moody, is that a student?” shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.“Yep,” said Moody.“Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!” said Professor McGonagall weakly.”

“I—I didn't think—""That," said Professor McGonagall, "is obvious.”

“I think so,' said Professor McGonagall dryly, 'we teachers are rather good at magic, you know.”

“Fifty?” Harry gasped.“Fifty points each,” said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily.“Professor — please —”“You can’t —”“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Potter. I’ve never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students.”

“Our Headmaster is taking a short break,' said Professor McGonagall, pointing at the Snape-shaped hole in the window.”

“Like that's the only reason anyone would ever buy a first-aid kit? Don't take this the wrong way, Professor McGonagall, but what sort of crazy children are you used to dealing with?""Gryffindors," spat Professor McGonagall, the word carrying a freight of bitterness and despair that fell like an eternal curse on all youthful heroism and high spirits.”