Whiskers in the Sun
She sits at her desk, the stack of essays neatly positioned on her right, her ink pot sitting above her left hand, so she can easily dip her quill in the dark red ink. Her last class was dismissed only an hour earlier, and she still has plenty of time before dinner.
From her classroom window she can hear the sounds from the Quidditch pitch, Ravenclaw had it currently for practice – she will have to talk to Oliver about scheduling earlier with Hooch to secure the prime times.
Tapping her quill on her chin, she gives a sigh and pulls out her wand. A swish and a soft spell close and lock her classroom door, then she tucks the wood back into her sleeve. Standing up, she stretches her arms, before transforming into a tabby-cat. She moves towards the window, hopping onto the sill, and curling up in the sunbeam.
The voices of the students sound so different when she's in her feline form, her head resting on her haunches, her tail lazily curled around her body. Rarely does she take the time to just relax anymore, she's always rushing about, worried for the students, for herself. The door opens, and she twitches one ear towards the sound, there's only two people who can open her locked door that easily. She doesn't move a muscle, other than the one ear, as the footsteps approach and a large hand begins petting the top of her head.
"Think we'll win this year?" The headmaster's deep voice asks.
She lifts her head, just high enough for his hand to slip down under her chin and scratch, her low rumbling purr indicating she has high hopes for Gryffindor, and their young Seeker, to snag the Quidditch cup for the third year in a row.
"Any information from your contacts in the houses?"
She gives a slight growl, he knows she lays in the sunbeam to forget – for a moment – the world and it's problems.
He chuckles and pulls a muggle sweet out of his pocket, slipping it into his mouth before continuing.
"Take a nap, Minerva. I'll see you at dinner."
He turns from her, heading towards the door, and pauses before exiting to look back at her, a mer-ow catching his attention.
"And I'll lock the door behind me."
Satisfied, she nuzzles herself back down into her sunbeam, her fur warming and her entire body relaxing into the thrumming stones of Hogwarts.
She who has faith…
an inward reservoir of courage, hope, confidence, calmness, and assuring trust that all will come out well
– even though to the world it may appear to come out badly.
B.C. Forbes (Scottish Journalist 1880-1954)
A/N: Takes place during HP3 (HP and the Prisoner of Azkaban). My tribute to the oft-overlooked Transfiguration professor.
Airplane Buddy: you won the bet, we ended up in the same bed…where do I email the $20?