Post by Bola on Sept 5, 2011 12:35:01 GMT -5
I
She couldn’t go on anymore. The Curse had gotten to her nonetheless, even though she was so fast as a cat. As a human she most likely wouldn’t have stood a chance at all… and yet she still hadn’t been quite fast enough. She damned her age catching up with her. In younger years this never would have happened.
The wind had become firmer and was sweeping across her angrily, nearly lifting her off her feet. Her paws sunk deep in the snow that had gathered over the last few days, and the only thought that kept her going was that Albus absolutely needed to know about the morsels of conversation that had reached her feline ears in the last twenty-four hours.
She had only done what was right to get any useful information about Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters’ whereabouts and little schemes and had offered herself willingly to go spy. After all she had a kind of disguise that was unique and nearly impossible to see through. How many silvery tabby cats were there? Then again how many silvery tabby cats were foolish enough not to find somewhere to hide even if they didn’t have homes?
She was cold and sore, and she didn’t have to look to know she was actually leaving bloody vestiges in the otherwise nearly impeccable white snow. She could not Apparate anywhere as a cat, and she was just not strong enough to turn into the shape of a woman again. She did not know what particular Curse had grazed her leg, but it was already positively draining her strength and fast. The evening was falling, and Minerva just had to get off the street before the Death Eaters found her. They hadn’t failed to see through her disguise earlier either. She vaguely suspected them having been tipped.
She was so tired; she barely managed to move at all, the wind casting a shield before her so that every step forward felt like two backward. She could see nothing before her teal green eyes, snow clouds wafting by without mercy for her small and weak figure. She could not give in now, but she couldn’t continue either…
She was entirely numb, the most she felt only being a vague tingly sensation. She did not feel the pain anymore so that was good at least. She was too exhausted to move at all anymore. Accepting her faith and knowing that, whether the Death Eaters would capture her again or not, she would most likely be gone by morn either way, Minerva curled up in the cold snow and finally succumbed.
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A vague light and warmth teased Minerva McGonagall awake. She blearily opened her eyes a few millimeters, letting them adjust to the mass of light, before very slowly opening them further and quietly taking in her surroundings. She seemed to be by a fire in a warm cozy house. “Mummy, the kitty’s wake now!” It sounded near her, and she suddenly felt herself being shifted from one warmth to another, feeling herself sink into what felt like a wooly pillow directly by the fire. Her ears registered the sound of someone moving, and she just cast her gaze aside to see a boy round the corner into the adjoining room. He must have held her in his lap. He must have saved her. She was alive.
Minerva uncomfortably tried to shift, finding her whole body stiff. Her stomach clenched with hunger, and with a pang she realized she had absolutely no idea how late it was and thus how long she must have gone without anything to satisfy her hunger or thirst already either. It seemed relatively dark, and either way she must have been asleep for either very long or merely momentary.
The sound of familiar footsteps near caught Minerva’s attention, and the little boy appeared again. He had light blue eyes much like Albus’ and light blond messy hair… She could see he or rather his mom had thought about insulation against the icy cold, for he was wearing a thick red woolen jumper and warm grey corduroy trousers. With a flash of her eyes downward, Minerva registered little feet in flashy yellow socks and noted that the boy’s trousers were slightly too long. Minerva guessed him to be about four or five.
The little boy carried a bowl in his hand, and she thought she detected the scent of fish. He sank down on his knees by her, putting down the bowl. Minerva’s first thought was confirmed… and a mixed feeling of disgust and gratefulness inevitably washed over her seeing that it contained kitten food. She looked at the boy questioningly. Of course he would see her as a cat and would give her kitten food. Minerva McGonagall had said multiple times she would never ever touch it, though. It smelled good enough, but she was not a cat in the common meaning of it… Albus had often made jokes about it, and often Minerva had not been able to laugh with them at all. An indescribable feeling shot through her at the mere thought of her best companion. Would Albus have been alarmed yet? Would he be looking for her?
A second pair of footsteps interrupted her train of thought, and a young woman nearly certain to be the little boy’s mother walked into the room. She had the same straight blonde hair pulled up into a ponytail, bangs framing her still youthful and pretty face. She had the same kind of blue eyes as her son as well. She too carried a bowl in her hands, and Minerva furiously hoped that it wouldn’t be more kitten food.
The woman, clad in a dark blue knitted dress sat by her son on the taupe carpet, setting down a bowl of tepid water. Minerva was so very thirsty, but she didn’t know if she could… Uneasily, she tried to move and managed to halfway sit, turning her head to the water first. The little boy tried to help her by pushing the bowl of water closer, and she knew that he meant well, but it did not help her get the strength she needed to get up. The mother quietly lifted the bowl again and held it close, low enough and slightly tilted so that if she just lowered her head somewhat, Minerva could sip from it.
It felt good to feel the liquid run through her throat, and she only realized fully how thirsty she must have been as she finally got to satisfy her mighty thirst. Minerva was so hungry as well, but… kitten food? When her thirst was sated, she quietly lifted her head, finding the bowl of water nearly drained as she did. The little boy looked at it first and then at his mommy. “She sure was thirsty!”
“Yes, she was,” the mother calmly said, eying the feline she was with worried eyes.
The child reached for her with his hand and stroked her head firmly so she had to lower it under the touch. He repeated the motion a few times until his mother stopped him finally from petting her a concussion.
“Gently, Emil,” the child’s mother spoke, and Minerva witnessed how the boy quietly pulled his hand back, looking questioningly at his mother. “Like this,” she said, tenderly stroking Minerva’s head and petting it so gently she barely felt it. Minerva purred contentedly at the gentle touch.
Minerva intuitively ducked her head as the boy called Emil reached for her again, but this time the touch was gentle as his mother’s, and the boy spoke, “Mummy’s a vet. She and I are gonna take care of you, Tabby,” he said. Minerva’s eyes momentarily widened at the same sobriquet Albus had given her a long long time ago already.
She was so hungry but oh so sleepy at the very same time. The slight effort needed to lessen her thirst truly had exhausted Minerva beyond reason. The thought of Albus and her impossible situation made her head ache and spin. If she still was so weak now, whenever would she be able to transform again? The thoughts stopped whirling and stilled in her mind to be mulled over later as unconsciousness took over her being, rendering her world in darkness once more.
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Albus’ eyes were closed, his hands clasped behind his back as he paced the space in the middle of the office by the desk like he had already been for the last half hour. Fawkes looked at him from his high perch with his black shiny eyes. His Burning Day had been just last week. Fawkes looked impressive with his red and gold feathers once again.
“Albus, pacing is not gonna get her back!” Phineas Nigellus said, slowly becoming irritated with the ruling Headmaster’s nervous behavior. Albus Dumbledore, to his utter surprise, halted immediately, and his eyes opened slowly as he turned his head to the portrait that had just spoken.
“What do you suggest, Phineas? I don’t know where she is. I don’t know what happened…” He sighed. “True, I would have expected her having been here already, but maybe she’s come across something of relevance for the Order. It would be unwise to try contact her in any way, because it might put her in danger… otherwise I would have already.”
“Albus, you’re the most intelligent wizard who ever walked the hallways of Hogwarts; you must be able to think of something surely?” Dilys Derwent spoke. She was slowly getting anxious over Minerva’s unusual disappearance as well. Minerva had gone to spy often enough, and she had always returned within a day, usually leaving in the evening and returning the morning or the noon after.
However, neither of them knew that just when she had been about to return to Hogwarts, Minerva had run into a bunch of Death Eaters she had vaguely recognized as once having been her former pupils. She had been gone for nearly twenty-four hours already…
“I don’t know, Dilys,” Dumbledore admitted. “I’m afraid that it could endanger her.”
“Give her until morning,” Armando Dippet spoke in his calm tone.
Albus’ eyes redirected to the portrait of his predecessor, and he sighed once more, nodding slowly. “I’ll give her until morning,” he agreed. “If she has not returned by then, I’m going to inform a few former Order members. It isn’t like her not to inform about where she is after such a long time. I just can’t believe she would forget to notify me about her whereabouts…”
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Minerva felt chilly. A shiver ran through her small feline body as she opened her eyes and found herself in semi-darkness. A brief look upon the fireplace told her the fire had died, and only a few orange-ish pieces in the coal were still burning. It must be night or at least early morning, considering that vague light was spilling in from behind the curtains offering just enough light for her green cat eyes to be able to see in the level of darkness. She slowly tried to balance on four paws and found that the bit more rest must have paid off. To her utter delight the bowl of kitten food still stood close by the woolen pillow that had served as her bed.
Uneasily she walked over and sat down by it, sniffling curiously. Technically she was not a cat, and yet… she was, and she was hungry, so hungry. Her stomach clenched painfully at the smell of any food at all. Her head was already spinning with the mere effort of getting upright and to the bowl of kitten food, and she knew that transforming would still be impossible.
Many believed that it required as much magic to retain one’s Animagus shape as transforming into it did and that retransforming in one’s human shape could be achieved by no longer focusing enough on your inner Animagus. Minerva knew better than that, though. In most cases one’s Animagus was much smaller than their human shape. It did require a lot of magic to change shapes, but possibly even more to return human… Once you had changed into your Animagus shape, retaining it no longer required one to draw on their magical core. You just needed a whole lot again to be able to grow human again. She did not have the strength to pull her magic to her and do so.
She suspected that maybe if she ate something, the headache would go away as well. And so she had no choice but to close her jaws around a jelly cube of meat, chewing it. To her surprise it did not taste that bad at all… Had she not been so damn hungry she certainly wouldn’t even have thought about it, but she was… and it was edible. If Minerva had closed her eyes, and the texture had been somewhat different, she would have believed that she had been eating fish.
Feeling her stomach slowly begin to unclench, welcoming the bit of food, Minerva continued to eat as if she hadn’t in days. By the time she had eaten half of the bowl of kitten food, she felt full and sated. The pain in her stomach was abating, and not wanting to tease it into hurting again this time by having eaten too much, she licked her whiskers contentedly and found her way to the woolen pillow again, curling up on it and closing her eyes to get some more sleep. Maybe she could begin thinking about transforming again when she woke next.
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Albus sat with his head leaning on his hands behind his desk, looking from the window as the sun came up to bathe the Scottish Highlands with its warmth and light. Minerva had still not returned. Albus had woken by his own nagging feelings concerning her welfare around five. Darkness had still reigned as he slowly walked into his equally dark office, just sitting there with Fawkes keeping him company quietly.
“What do you suggest, Armando?” Dumbledore asked, not redirecting his careful gaze from the window, as if he hoped to see her pop up on the domains any second. He instinctively knew the portrait of his predecessor only feigning to sleep whether or not he still had his eyes closed. He was not disappointed.
“Inform some Aurors about her disappearance,” Armando replied. “She’s been away too long.”
Albus nodded, bowing his head while his hands covered his face; he couldn’t begin to even think about what he’d do if something had happened to her. The information she could have gotten was the farthest thing from his mind. Where was Minerva and was she all right?
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Minerva quietly opened her eyes at the sound of a squeal, squinting again at the mass of light. The curtains were open, she saw. She must have had some more hours of sleep since last time she had been awake. It had become light in the meantime, and it seemed as if she had missed the boy and his mommy rising. That was rather unusual for her, since Minerva considered herself to be a light sleeper.
She yawned, watching as the nice boy she knew as Emil moved to sit on his knees by her. “Look, Mummy! She ate!” She saw him point a little finger toward the half bowl of kitten food, and Minerva smiled quietly. He was very cute. A pain filled her heart at the thought of how much she herself had always wanted to have children. The first two years of her marriage she really hadn’t been ready to conceive and have children yet, even though Minerva had been over forty already. The last year had not been enough to get impregnated, and by the time Professor McGonagall was widowed, she was forty-five… on the verge of being unable to conceive at all anymore. Her period and then menopause had come early. She had never been with anyone else, and so she had remained childless.
“I’m sure she must have been very hungry,” a soft voice came from the doorway, its owner leaning against it while watching the interaction between her son and the cat they had rescued the night before. They had just come from the boy’s gran when he pointed at a curled up animal in the snow a few meters from their doorstep. Upon getting nearer the boy had squealed noticing it was a snowed in cat, looking up at his mommy with teary eyes and saying they couldn’t leave her like that. His mommy had agreed and had dug the cat from the cold snow, wiping away the inch of snow that had covered her and lifting her into her arms, taking her home with them to take care of her.
“She’s looking better, too,” Emil said, looking up at his mommy as he continued to stroke the cat’s fur, which felt warmer to the touch than the night before. Minerva resettled slightly, pushing her head up into the boy’s hand as she purred. She do better to enjoy her time as a feline instead of fretting over not being able to transform again.
Emil’s mom could see her son’s eyebrows scrunch together as he seemed to think hard and deep about something, his eyes still trained upon the silvery tabby cat. She stepped closer and squatted down on the other side of the feline, looking at her son questioningly. “What’s the matter, sweet?”
“Do you…” Emil began, his eyes down and fixed upon his own hand running through the cat’s soft fur. “Do you think I could keep her? I mean, she’s not wearing a collar of any kind. I’ve always wanted a cat, and… and she seems to like me.” He finally looked at his mother with pleading blue eyes. The same blue eyes stared back. Minerva’s eyes were almost closed, but still opened just enough to look at the mother.
She smiled, and Minerva couldn’t quite pinpoint the emotion behind it. She couldn’t really say if the smile was genuine or of sadness. “I’m sure she does,” Emil’s mother spoke. “Who wouldn’t like you, darling?” Minerva listened with awe at the interaction between mother and son and wished she herself had had the chance to have had it with her own child as well. A quiet sigh escaped her. She knew that Emil’s mother was a good one, regardless of the fact they did not seem to have a lot of wealth, given the lack of fancy decoration and such in the living room. It hinted to the other rooms being similar, even though of course Minerva couldn’t say for sure. Everything was rather plain, and even though her own rooms at Hogwarts were plain as well in more ways than one, this was a whole other kind of plain: the poor kind of it. The too long trousers of the little boy hinted to the same. And still, she was quite sure the boy had all he needed and wanted even if his mom would have to eat less for it. They were good people, though. Otherwise they never would have taken her in. She wouldn’t have been alive anymore. She resolved that she would do truly all that she could to do something about it once she was herself again, but she really needed rest… Her head was about to burst… maybe later…
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“I’m sorry, Albus,” Kingsley Shacklebolt said, while looking at the Headmaster sadly. He sat behind his desk with his head in his hands. “We have not found her or anything that could possibly tell us where she is right now. We’ve searched the whole of London to begin with and have found nothing, truly nothing.”
Tonks, who was beside him, nodded her head slightly in confirmation. “We inquired if someone had seen her, but of course this lead to nothing either. Professor McGonagall would most likely have been thoughtful enough to keep her cover, especially in dangerous situations… and inquiring after each and every tabby cat would be madness,” she said in her normally rather hoarse tone.
Albus Dumbledore quietly nodded, not saying a word at all, as he took in the information that Kingsley and Nymphadora offered him. His mind reeled with questions and insecurities. The two Aurors had been to his office earlier that day, where he had informed them of his worries and both had agreed it was odd for Minerva not to inform him or anyone of the situation while being away for so long, unless she couldn’t… and she were possibly in danger.
“We’re not giving up quite yet,” Tonks said, casting her gaze over at Kingsley, who nodded in confirmation. “We could inform a few more Aurors who could help us search. It’ll give us better chances of finding her or a possible lead.”
Albus quietly lowered his hands and nodded with his eyes closed. As he opened them, his mesmerizing blue eyes were filled with raging concern. “This is not like Minerva and the longer she’s away…” He did not need to finish.
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“Kitty cat…”
A childish tone woke Minerva. As she slowly opened her teal green eyes and looked into Emil’s face, she noticed that it was far less light than earlier as well. Instinct and experience told her she must have been sleeping for about half a day more since that morning. Tenderness came over her as she noticed two bowls she assumed Emil had put by her, one with more water and the other with cat food. Slowly, she stretched and got to her four feet, padding closer to where the boy sat squatted and rubbing her head against his foot as a means of showing her appreciation in the only way she could as a cat without raising suspicions about her true nature. She really was very grateful for having been taken in and being taken care of so well. She most certainly wouldn’t have survived otherwise.
The boy giggled as she quietly rubbed her head against his foot – one of the best sounds she had ever heard in life. She turned to the bowl of water and settled by it, calmly sipping until her thirst was sated before turning to the cat food, nose scrunching. Whereas it had not been that bad the night before, she was not so hungry now as to consider turning to kitten food again. She sat, looking at the boy who smiled at her.
Minerva McGonagall thrust her nose into the air and smelled curiously. A particularly good smell wafted up her nostrils from a near distance: the smell of human food. Her stomach clenched with desire more than hunger, and she got to her feet, slowly padding in the direction of where she assumed the source of the smell lay.
She followed her nose in the direction of the adjoining room in which she had seen the little boy disappear the day before and found herself, as expected, in a little kitchen. Emil’s mother was hovering over the coking plates and as Minerva closed her eyes to focus on solely the smell, ignoring Emil’s following footsteps as he too entered the kitchen, she could detect cheese… and ham. Her eyes gleamed at the mere thought, but she knew that she could not just jump on the kitchen counter. That was rude to begin with, and she possibly did not have the strength to get there either.
“Mommy, look!” Emil squealed, seemingly very happy that Minerva felt good enough to be able to walk the little distance from living room to kitchen already. Emil’s mom smiled as she turned to look at her son over her shoulder, before turning off the stove and lifting the hot cooking pot off the fire, carrying it to the table, which seemed set for two. Minerva briefly wondered where the boy’s father was, but the thought was pushed aside easily by the smell of something she knew to be mac and cheese with ham. Her stomach clenched more. She would do anything for some of it.
“It seems that she feels a whole lot better already,” Emil’s mother said. “Go wash your hands first, sweet,” she said, watching as Emil made to sit down on what Minerva assumed was his usual spot at the table. With a groan, the little boy turned and stomped to the sink to do as he was told. His mother smiled after him as she reached to pore some macaroni on her son’s plate and then onto her own.
Minerva sat down by the mother’s chair, looking up at the table with longing eyes and watching greedily. As Emil’s mother sat, Minerva did something she never thought she would do: she gently began scratching at the woman’s leg and meowed desperately to get attention… hopefully leading to food. Soon enough, the young mother looked down at her. “Are you hungry, little one?”
Minerva chose to ignore the last bit, her main focus upon getting some human food. Thus, she meowed, trying to convince the woman that indeed she was very hungry. Please don’t let her give me more kitten food…
Small footsteps announced Emil’s return. He finally sat down at his spot, already taking his fork, ready to dig in, when he looked down at Minerva and then at his mother questioningly. “Maybe she wanna some mac and cheese?” he asked.
Minerva’s ears perked, and the cat had to suppress the urge to nod her head yes vigorously. She listened and watched intently as Emil’s mother chortled, then shook her head. “Cats don’t eat mac and cheese, sweet,” she said.
“Maybe this one do,” Emil argued, sliding off his chair and running to the cupboard. Minerva intently followed him with her eyes as he then opened it and reached for another plate. Minerva’s heart leapt as she quietly followed him back to his spot, every now and then letting her eyes flash to Emil’s mother in a hope she would not stop her son.
“It is not healthy for her,” Emil’s mother said, and Minerva’s heart sank again as Emil became motionless hearing those words.
“I’m sure it can’t hurt for once!” he said, his face lighting up, and took his fork to push half of his mac and cheese onto the smaller plate meant for Minerva. Minerva McGonagall’s heart warmed to the little boy as he shared half of his meal with her, a cat. The will to share everything was so typical for children. Sadly enough that innocence was waning with most of the children when they arrived at Hogwarts already, aged eleven or twelve…
She tried not to look too greedy as Emil gently placed the plate down where she sat. Minerva certainly would have preferred a knife and at least a fork, but human food was a beginning….
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Minerva hopped into the house again awkwardly shaking her paws to get the cold snow off of them. A few hours after dinner, she really hadn’t been able to hold it any longer and had gone to sit mewing at the door to the garden in the kitchen. Emil’s mother had understood and had let her into the garden.
The Animagus had returned with the little boy into the living room after dinner and had joined him on the couch in watching TV, having scratched meaningfully at his trousers to be lifted up, because she was still too weak to jump up on the couch herself. Them both had watched cartoons together until his mother had told him it was time for bed, to Minerva’s utter sadness. Crazily enough, she had enjoyed being cuddled and watching cartoons like Muggle children did. He had gone to bed two hours earlier.
Minerva walked into the living room again and over to the woolen pillow, easily settling into it. She was healthily tired, not overly, and she thought that maybe if she tried she might be able to transform again into her human shape. However, she couldn’t unless she was alone. So she settled into the pillow, joining Emil’s mother in watching some more TV – a crime show to be specific. She had been a little repulsed at the cutting open of the body but overall she had actually thought it to be interesting. She found that every quarter of hour, there was a little break in which a few ads were shown, and she wondered if that was common all the time. Before she knew it really, a disembodied voice sounded from the television announcing that the team of Bones would see them again the week after. Before Minerva had had the chance to hear more, Emil’s mother stood and turned off the television. She bent briefly down to tickle behind Minerva’s left ear before whispering, “Good night, Tabby.” Turning off the light, Emil’s mother left the room and went upstairs to, Minerva assumed, her bed.
Minerva listened intently and waited until a door from upstairs sounded, indicating that Emil’s mother had retreated into her bedroom. Professor McGonagall waited a few more seconds just to be sure. She knew if she didn’t succeed then, it would be barely. She would either just fail or just succeed.
She inhaled, eyes inevitably falling shut as she concentrated on her inner magical self… focusing intently on morphing into her usual woman self again. Nothing happened. On a second try, she managed to reach the slightly familiar feeling of transformation and managed halfway between cat and woman before shrinking again into a silvery tabby cat; it was too soon. She was quite exhausted from two failed ties, and her head was banging. However, she had already made it halfway… One more night of rest would hopefully be enough to regain the strength Minerva McGonagall needed to be able to transform. Albus was most likely sick with worry… It was of importance that she returned to Hogwarts soon now… Tomorrow.
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The portraits had not said a word since the Aurors had left, even though each and every one of the deceased former headmasters and headmistresses had their own respective thoughts. The night had fallen again without Minerva’s return, and silence was the key as Albus still sat behind his desk, knowing that anything he would try to take on would fail anyway. He could not take a book to read for instance, for he knew that he would not be able to gather anything of what his eyes slid over.
“Contact her,” Dilys Derwent spoke.
“Are ya bloody ‘nsane?” Ambrose Swott said indignantly. “If he’d like ta have her killed he’ll do jus’ tha’! What if the ‘nemy intercepts and finds her before we do?”
“What if they already have her!” Dilys spoke, her voice shrilly contrasting with its normal tone. She had always been able to keep a cool head as a headmistress herself but that had been before Grindelwald or Voldemort had even been born already. Times had changed now and not for the better.
“Then it is too late already either way,” Phineas Nigellus said.
Dilys Derwent stormed from her portrait assumedly to her frame in St. Mungo’s as Albus Dumbledore sighed deep at Phineas’ little comment, fearing for the same. Hearing it again did not make him feel better, though. Helga Hufflepuff hissed at the former Headmaster in annoyance.
“What? I only said what I thought!”
“And sometimes you should learn how to shut up!” Salazar Slytherin spoke.
She couldn’t go on anymore. The Curse had gotten to her nonetheless, even though she was so fast as a cat. As a human she most likely wouldn’t have stood a chance at all… and yet she still hadn’t been quite fast enough. She damned her age catching up with her. In younger years this never would have happened.
The wind had become firmer and was sweeping across her angrily, nearly lifting her off her feet. Her paws sunk deep in the snow that had gathered over the last few days, and the only thought that kept her going was that Albus absolutely needed to know about the morsels of conversation that had reached her feline ears in the last twenty-four hours.
She had only done what was right to get any useful information about Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters’ whereabouts and little schemes and had offered herself willingly to go spy. After all she had a kind of disguise that was unique and nearly impossible to see through. How many silvery tabby cats were there? Then again how many silvery tabby cats were foolish enough not to find somewhere to hide even if they didn’t have homes?
She was cold and sore, and she didn’t have to look to know she was actually leaving bloody vestiges in the otherwise nearly impeccable white snow. She could not Apparate anywhere as a cat, and she was just not strong enough to turn into the shape of a woman again. She did not know what particular Curse had grazed her leg, but it was already positively draining her strength and fast. The evening was falling, and Minerva just had to get off the street before the Death Eaters found her. They hadn’t failed to see through her disguise earlier either. She vaguely suspected them having been tipped.
She was so tired; she barely managed to move at all, the wind casting a shield before her so that every step forward felt like two backward. She could see nothing before her teal green eyes, snow clouds wafting by without mercy for her small and weak figure. She could not give in now, but she couldn’t continue either…
She was entirely numb, the most she felt only being a vague tingly sensation. She did not feel the pain anymore so that was good at least. She was too exhausted to move at all anymore. Accepting her faith and knowing that, whether the Death Eaters would capture her again or not, she would most likely be gone by morn either way, Minerva curled up in the cold snow and finally succumbed.
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A vague light and warmth teased Minerva McGonagall awake. She blearily opened her eyes a few millimeters, letting them adjust to the mass of light, before very slowly opening them further and quietly taking in her surroundings. She seemed to be by a fire in a warm cozy house. “Mummy, the kitty’s wake now!” It sounded near her, and she suddenly felt herself being shifted from one warmth to another, feeling herself sink into what felt like a wooly pillow directly by the fire. Her ears registered the sound of someone moving, and she just cast her gaze aside to see a boy round the corner into the adjoining room. He must have held her in his lap. He must have saved her. She was alive.
Minerva uncomfortably tried to shift, finding her whole body stiff. Her stomach clenched with hunger, and with a pang she realized she had absolutely no idea how late it was and thus how long she must have gone without anything to satisfy her hunger or thirst already either. It seemed relatively dark, and either way she must have been asleep for either very long or merely momentary.
The sound of familiar footsteps near caught Minerva’s attention, and the little boy appeared again. He had light blue eyes much like Albus’ and light blond messy hair… She could see he or rather his mom had thought about insulation against the icy cold, for he was wearing a thick red woolen jumper and warm grey corduroy trousers. With a flash of her eyes downward, Minerva registered little feet in flashy yellow socks and noted that the boy’s trousers were slightly too long. Minerva guessed him to be about four or five.
The little boy carried a bowl in his hand, and she thought she detected the scent of fish. He sank down on his knees by her, putting down the bowl. Minerva’s first thought was confirmed… and a mixed feeling of disgust and gratefulness inevitably washed over her seeing that it contained kitten food. She looked at the boy questioningly. Of course he would see her as a cat and would give her kitten food. Minerva McGonagall had said multiple times she would never ever touch it, though. It smelled good enough, but she was not a cat in the common meaning of it… Albus had often made jokes about it, and often Minerva had not been able to laugh with them at all. An indescribable feeling shot through her at the mere thought of her best companion. Would Albus have been alarmed yet? Would he be looking for her?
A second pair of footsteps interrupted her train of thought, and a young woman nearly certain to be the little boy’s mother walked into the room. She had the same straight blonde hair pulled up into a ponytail, bangs framing her still youthful and pretty face. She had the same kind of blue eyes as her son as well. She too carried a bowl in her hands, and Minerva furiously hoped that it wouldn’t be more kitten food.
The woman, clad in a dark blue knitted dress sat by her son on the taupe carpet, setting down a bowl of tepid water. Minerva was so very thirsty, but she didn’t know if she could… Uneasily, she tried to move and managed to halfway sit, turning her head to the water first. The little boy tried to help her by pushing the bowl of water closer, and she knew that he meant well, but it did not help her get the strength she needed to get up. The mother quietly lifted the bowl again and held it close, low enough and slightly tilted so that if she just lowered her head somewhat, Minerva could sip from it.
It felt good to feel the liquid run through her throat, and she only realized fully how thirsty she must have been as she finally got to satisfy her mighty thirst. Minerva was so hungry as well, but… kitten food? When her thirst was sated, she quietly lifted her head, finding the bowl of water nearly drained as she did. The little boy looked at it first and then at his mommy. “She sure was thirsty!”
“Yes, she was,” the mother calmly said, eying the feline she was with worried eyes.
The child reached for her with his hand and stroked her head firmly so she had to lower it under the touch. He repeated the motion a few times until his mother stopped him finally from petting her a concussion.
“Gently, Emil,” the child’s mother spoke, and Minerva witnessed how the boy quietly pulled his hand back, looking questioningly at his mother. “Like this,” she said, tenderly stroking Minerva’s head and petting it so gently she barely felt it. Minerva purred contentedly at the gentle touch.
Minerva intuitively ducked her head as the boy called Emil reached for her again, but this time the touch was gentle as his mother’s, and the boy spoke, “Mummy’s a vet. She and I are gonna take care of you, Tabby,” he said. Minerva’s eyes momentarily widened at the same sobriquet Albus had given her a long long time ago already.
She was so hungry but oh so sleepy at the very same time. The slight effort needed to lessen her thirst truly had exhausted Minerva beyond reason. The thought of Albus and her impossible situation made her head ache and spin. If she still was so weak now, whenever would she be able to transform again? The thoughts stopped whirling and stilled in her mind to be mulled over later as unconsciousness took over her being, rendering her world in darkness once more.
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Albus’ eyes were closed, his hands clasped behind his back as he paced the space in the middle of the office by the desk like he had already been for the last half hour. Fawkes looked at him from his high perch with his black shiny eyes. His Burning Day had been just last week. Fawkes looked impressive with his red and gold feathers once again.
“Albus, pacing is not gonna get her back!” Phineas Nigellus said, slowly becoming irritated with the ruling Headmaster’s nervous behavior. Albus Dumbledore, to his utter surprise, halted immediately, and his eyes opened slowly as he turned his head to the portrait that had just spoken.
“What do you suggest, Phineas? I don’t know where she is. I don’t know what happened…” He sighed. “True, I would have expected her having been here already, but maybe she’s come across something of relevance for the Order. It would be unwise to try contact her in any way, because it might put her in danger… otherwise I would have already.”
“Albus, you’re the most intelligent wizard who ever walked the hallways of Hogwarts; you must be able to think of something surely?” Dilys Derwent spoke. She was slowly getting anxious over Minerva’s unusual disappearance as well. Minerva had gone to spy often enough, and she had always returned within a day, usually leaving in the evening and returning the morning or the noon after.
However, neither of them knew that just when she had been about to return to Hogwarts, Minerva had run into a bunch of Death Eaters she had vaguely recognized as once having been her former pupils. She had been gone for nearly twenty-four hours already…
“I don’t know, Dilys,” Dumbledore admitted. “I’m afraid that it could endanger her.”
“Give her until morning,” Armando Dippet spoke in his calm tone.
Albus’ eyes redirected to the portrait of his predecessor, and he sighed once more, nodding slowly. “I’ll give her until morning,” he agreed. “If she has not returned by then, I’m going to inform a few former Order members. It isn’t like her not to inform about where she is after such a long time. I just can’t believe she would forget to notify me about her whereabouts…”
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Minerva felt chilly. A shiver ran through her small feline body as she opened her eyes and found herself in semi-darkness. A brief look upon the fireplace told her the fire had died, and only a few orange-ish pieces in the coal were still burning. It must be night or at least early morning, considering that vague light was spilling in from behind the curtains offering just enough light for her green cat eyes to be able to see in the level of darkness. She slowly tried to balance on four paws and found that the bit more rest must have paid off. To her utter delight the bowl of kitten food still stood close by the woolen pillow that had served as her bed.
Uneasily she walked over and sat down by it, sniffling curiously. Technically she was not a cat, and yet… she was, and she was hungry, so hungry. Her stomach clenched painfully at the smell of any food at all. Her head was already spinning with the mere effort of getting upright and to the bowl of kitten food, and she knew that transforming would still be impossible.
Many believed that it required as much magic to retain one’s Animagus shape as transforming into it did and that retransforming in one’s human shape could be achieved by no longer focusing enough on your inner Animagus. Minerva knew better than that, though. In most cases one’s Animagus was much smaller than their human shape. It did require a lot of magic to change shapes, but possibly even more to return human… Once you had changed into your Animagus shape, retaining it no longer required one to draw on their magical core. You just needed a whole lot again to be able to grow human again. She did not have the strength to pull her magic to her and do so.
She suspected that maybe if she ate something, the headache would go away as well. And so she had no choice but to close her jaws around a jelly cube of meat, chewing it. To her surprise it did not taste that bad at all… Had she not been so damn hungry she certainly wouldn’t even have thought about it, but she was… and it was edible. If Minerva had closed her eyes, and the texture had been somewhat different, she would have believed that she had been eating fish.
Feeling her stomach slowly begin to unclench, welcoming the bit of food, Minerva continued to eat as if she hadn’t in days. By the time she had eaten half of the bowl of kitten food, she felt full and sated. The pain in her stomach was abating, and not wanting to tease it into hurting again this time by having eaten too much, she licked her whiskers contentedly and found her way to the woolen pillow again, curling up on it and closing her eyes to get some more sleep. Maybe she could begin thinking about transforming again when she woke next.
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Albus sat with his head leaning on his hands behind his desk, looking from the window as the sun came up to bathe the Scottish Highlands with its warmth and light. Minerva had still not returned. Albus had woken by his own nagging feelings concerning her welfare around five. Darkness had still reigned as he slowly walked into his equally dark office, just sitting there with Fawkes keeping him company quietly.
“What do you suggest, Armando?” Dumbledore asked, not redirecting his careful gaze from the window, as if he hoped to see her pop up on the domains any second. He instinctively knew the portrait of his predecessor only feigning to sleep whether or not he still had his eyes closed. He was not disappointed.
“Inform some Aurors about her disappearance,” Armando replied. “She’s been away too long.”
Albus nodded, bowing his head while his hands covered his face; he couldn’t begin to even think about what he’d do if something had happened to her. The information she could have gotten was the farthest thing from his mind. Where was Minerva and was she all right?
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Minerva quietly opened her eyes at the sound of a squeal, squinting again at the mass of light. The curtains were open, she saw. She must have had some more hours of sleep since last time she had been awake. It had become light in the meantime, and it seemed as if she had missed the boy and his mommy rising. That was rather unusual for her, since Minerva considered herself to be a light sleeper.
She yawned, watching as the nice boy she knew as Emil moved to sit on his knees by her. “Look, Mummy! She ate!” She saw him point a little finger toward the half bowl of kitten food, and Minerva smiled quietly. He was very cute. A pain filled her heart at the thought of how much she herself had always wanted to have children. The first two years of her marriage she really hadn’t been ready to conceive and have children yet, even though Minerva had been over forty already. The last year had not been enough to get impregnated, and by the time Professor McGonagall was widowed, she was forty-five… on the verge of being unable to conceive at all anymore. Her period and then menopause had come early. She had never been with anyone else, and so she had remained childless.
“I’m sure she must have been very hungry,” a soft voice came from the doorway, its owner leaning against it while watching the interaction between her son and the cat they had rescued the night before. They had just come from the boy’s gran when he pointed at a curled up animal in the snow a few meters from their doorstep. Upon getting nearer the boy had squealed noticing it was a snowed in cat, looking up at his mommy with teary eyes and saying they couldn’t leave her like that. His mommy had agreed and had dug the cat from the cold snow, wiping away the inch of snow that had covered her and lifting her into her arms, taking her home with them to take care of her.
“She’s looking better, too,” Emil said, looking up at his mommy as he continued to stroke the cat’s fur, which felt warmer to the touch than the night before. Minerva resettled slightly, pushing her head up into the boy’s hand as she purred. She do better to enjoy her time as a feline instead of fretting over not being able to transform again.
Emil’s mom could see her son’s eyebrows scrunch together as he seemed to think hard and deep about something, his eyes still trained upon the silvery tabby cat. She stepped closer and squatted down on the other side of the feline, looking at her son questioningly. “What’s the matter, sweet?”
“Do you…” Emil began, his eyes down and fixed upon his own hand running through the cat’s soft fur. “Do you think I could keep her? I mean, she’s not wearing a collar of any kind. I’ve always wanted a cat, and… and she seems to like me.” He finally looked at his mother with pleading blue eyes. The same blue eyes stared back. Minerva’s eyes were almost closed, but still opened just enough to look at the mother.
She smiled, and Minerva couldn’t quite pinpoint the emotion behind it. She couldn’t really say if the smile was genuine or of sadness. “I’m sure she does,” Emil’s mother spoke. “Who wouldn’t like you, darling?” Minerva listened with awe at the interaction between mother and son and wished she herself had had the chance to have had it with her own child as well. A quiet sigh escaped her. She knew that Emil’s mother was a good one, regardless of the fact they did not seem to have a lot of wealth, given the lack of fancy decoration and such in the living room. It hinted to the other rooms being similar, even though of course Minerva couldn’t say for sure. Everything was rather plain, and even though her own rooms at Hogwarts were plain as well in more ways than one, this was a whole other kind of plain: the poor kind of it. The too long trousers of the little boy hinted to the same. And still, she was quite sure the boy had all he needed and wanted even if his mom would have to eat less for it. They were good people, though. Otherwise they never would have taken her in. She wouldn’t have been alive anymore. She resolved that she would do truly all that she could to do something about it once she was herself again, but she really needed rest… Her head was about to burst… maybe later…
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“I’m sorry, Albus,” Kingsley Shacklebolt said, while looking at the Headmaster sadly. He sat behind his desk with his head in his hands. “We have not found her or anything that could possibly tell us where she is right now. We’ve searched the whole of London to begin with and have found nothing, truly nothing.”
Tonks, who was beside him, nodded her head slightly in confirmation. “We inquired if someone had seen her, but of course this lead to nothing either. Professor McGonagall would most likely have been thoughtful enough to keep her cover, especially in dangerous situations… and inquiring after each and every tabby cat would be madness,” she said in her normally rather hoarse tone.
Albus Dumbledore quietly nodded, not saying a word at all, as he took in the information that Kingsley and Nymphadora offered him. His mind reeled with questions and insecurities. The two Aurors had been to his office earlier that day, where he had informed them of his worries and both had agreed it was odd for Minerva not to inform him or anyone of the situation while being away for so long, unless she couldn’t… and she were possibly in danger.
“We’re not giving up quite yet,” Tonks said, casting her gaze over at Kingsley, who nodded in confirmation. “We could inform a few more Aurors who could help us search. It’ll give us better chances of finding her or a possible lead.”
Albus quietly lowered his hands and nodded with his eyes closed. As he opened them, his mesmerizing blue eyes were filled with raging concern. “This is not like Minerva and the longer she’s away…” He did not need to finish.
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“Kitty cat…”
A childish tone woke Minerva. As she slowly opened her teal green eyes and looked into Emil’s face, she noticed that it was far less light than earlier as well. Instinct and experience told her she must have been sleeping for about half a day more since that morning. Tenderness came over her as she noticed two bowls she assumed Emil had put by her, one with more water and the other with cat food. Slowly, she stretched and got to her four feet, padding closer to where the boy sat squatted and rubbing her head against his foot as a means of showing her appreciation in the only way she could as a cat without raising suspicions about her true nature. She really was very grateful for having been taken in and being taken care of so well. She most certainly wouldn’t have survived otherwise.
The boy giggled as she quietly rubbed her head against his foot – one of the best sounds she had ever heard in life. She turned to the bowl of water and settled by it, calmly sipping until her thirst was sated before turning to the cat food, nose scrunching. Whereas it had not been that bad the night before, she was not so hungry now as to consider turning to kitten food again. She sat, looking at the boy who smiled at her.
Minerva McGonagall thrust her nose into the air and smelled curiously. A particularly good smell wafted up her nostrils from a near distance: the smell of human food. Her stomach clenched with desire more than hunger, and she got to her feet, slowly padding in the direction of where she assumed the source of the smell lay.
She followed her nose in the direction of the adjoining room in which she had seen the little boy disappear the day before and found herself, as expected, in a little kitchen. Emil’s mother was hovering over the coking plates and as Minerva closed her eyes to focus on solely the smell, ignoring Emil’s following footsteps as he too entered the kitchen, she could detect cheese… and ham. Her eyes gleamed at the mere thought, but she knew that she could not just jump on the kitchen counter. That was rude to begin with, and she possibly did not have the strength to get there either.
“Mommy, look!” Emil squealed, seemingly very happy that Minerva felt good enough to be able to walk the little distance from living room to kitchen already. Emil’s mom smiled as she turned to look at her son over her shoulder, before turning off the stove and lifting the hot cooking pot off the fire, carrying it to the table, which seemed set for two. Minerva briefly wondered where the boy’s father was, but the thought was pushed aside easily by the smell of something she knew to be mac and cheese with ham. Her stomach clenched more. She would do anything for some of it.
“It seems that she feels a whole lot better already,” Emil’s mother said. “Go wash your hands first, sweet,” she said, watching as Emil made to sit down on what Minerva assumed was his usual spot at the table. With a groan, the little boy turned and stomped to the sink to do as he was told. His mother smiled after him as she reached to pore some macaroni on her son’s plate and then onto her own.
Minerva sat down by the mother’s chair, looking up at the table with longing eyes and watching greedily. As Emil’s mother sat, Minerva did something she never thought she would do: she gently began scratching at the woman’s leg and meowed desperately to get attention… hopefully leading to food. Soon enough, the young mother looked down at her. “Are you hungry, little one?”
Minerva chose to ignore the last bit, her main focus upon getting some human food. Thus, she meowed, trying to convince the woman that indeed she was very hungry. Please don’t let her give me more kitten food…
Small footsteps announced Emil’s return. He finally sat down at his spot, already taking his fork, ready to dig in, when he looked down at Minerva and then at his mother questioningly. “Maybe she wanna some mac and cheese?” he asked.
Minerva’s ears perked, and the cat had to suppress the urge to nod her head yes vigorously. She listened and watched intently as Emil’s mother chortled, then shook her head. “Cats don’t eat mac and cheese, sweet,” she said.
“Maybe this one do,” Emil argued, sliding off his chair and running to the cupboard. Minerva intently followed him with her eyes as he then opened it and reached for another plate. Minerva’s heart leapt as she quietly followed him back to his spot, every now and then letting her eyes flash to Emil’s mother in a hope she would not stop her son.
“It is not healthy for her,” Emil’s mother said, and Minerva’s heart sank again as Emil became motionless hearing those words.
“I’m sure it can’t hurt for once!” he said, his face lighting up, and took his fork to push half of his mac and cheese onto the smaller plate meant for Minerva. Minerva McGonagall’s heart warmed to the little boy as he shared half of his meal with her, a cat. The will to share everything was so typical for children. Sadly enough that innocence was waning with most of the children when they arrived at Hogwarts already, aged eleven or twelve…
She tried not to look too greedy as Emil gently placed the plate down where she sat. Minerva certainly would have preferred a knife and at least a fork, but human food was a beginning….
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Minerva hopped into the house again awkwardly shaking her paws to get the cold snow off of them. A few hours after dinner, she really hadn’t been able to hold it any longer and had gone to sit mewing at the door to the garden in the kitchen. Emil’s mother had understood and had let her into the garden.
The Animagus had returned with the little boy into the living room after dinner and had joined him on the couch in watching TV, having scratched meaningfully at his trousers to be lifted up, because she was still too weak to jump up on the couch herself. Them both had watched cartoons together until his mother had told him it was time for bed, to Minerva’s utter sadness. Crazily enough, she had enjoyed being cuddled and watching cartoons like Muggle children did. He had gone to bed two hours earlier.
Minerva walked into the living room again and over to the woolen pillow, easily settling into it. She was healthily tired, not overly, and she thought that maybe if she tried she might be able to transform again into her human shape. However, she couldn’t unless she was alone. So she settled into the pillow, joining Emil’s mother in watching some more TV – a crime show to be specific. She had been a little repulsed at the cutting open of the body but overall she had actually thought it to be interesting. She found that every quarter of hour, there was a little break in which a few ads were shown, and she wondered if that was common all the time. Before she knew it really, a disembodied voice sounded from the television announcing that the team of Bones would see them again the week after. Before Minerva had had the chance to hear more, Emil’s mother stood and turned off the television. She bent briefly down to tickle behind Minerva’s left ear before whispering, “Good night, Tabby.” Turning off the light, Emil’s mother left the room and went upstairs to, Minerva assumed, her bed.
Minerva listened intently and waited until a door from upstairs sounded, indicating that Emil’s mother had retreated into her bedroom. Professor McGonagall waited a few more seconds just to be sure. She knew if she didn’t succeed then, it would be barely. She would either just fail or just succeed.
She inhaled, eyes inevitably falling shut as she concentrated on her inner magical self… focusing intently on morphing into her usual woman self again. Nothing happened. On a second try, she managed to reach the slightly familiar feeling of transformation and managed halfway between cat and woman before shrinking again into a silvery tabby cat; it was too soon. She was quite exhausted from two failed ties, and her head was banging. However, she had already made it halfway… One more night of rest would hopefully be enough to regain the strength Minerva McGonagall needed to be able to transform. Albus was most likely sick with worry… It was of importance that she returned to Hogwarts soon now… Tomorrow.
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The portraits had not said a word since the Aurors had left, even though each and every one of the deceased former headmasters and headmistresses had their own respective thoughts. The night had fallen again without Minerva’s return, and silence was the key as Albus still sat behind his desk, knowing that anything he would try to take on would fail anyway. He could not take a book to read for instance, for he knew that he would not be able to gather anything of what his eyes slid over.
“Contact her,” Dilys Derwent spoke.
“Are ya bloody ‘nsane?” Ambrose Swott said indignantly. “If he’d like ta have her killed he’ll do jus’ tha’! What if the ‘nemy intercepts and finds her before we do?”
“What if they already have her!” Dilys spoke, her voice shrilly contrasting with its normal tone. She had always been able to keep a cool head as a headmistress herself but that had been before Grindelwald or Voldemort had even been born already. Times had changed now and not for the better.
“Then it is too late already either way,” Phineas Nigellus said.
Dilys Derwent stormed from her portrait assumedly to her frame in St. Mungo’s as Albus Dumbledore sighed deep at Phineas’ little comment, fearing for the same. Hearing it again did not make him feel better, though. Helga Hufflepuff hissed at the former Headmaster in annoyance.
“What? I only said what I thought!”
“And sometimes you should learn how to shut up!” Salazar Slytherin spoke.
