The Findings of a Registered Animagus
A McGonagall Fiction
Chapter 1:
In which Professor McGonagall reflects on her job
Professor Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress and Transfigurations teacher of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sighed as she began grading a pile of assignments handed in by her second year students. It was almost the holidays, and every year, she had to grade essays that rambled off topic, as though those who wrote them had been thinking about other things instead of the issue at hand. She hated to see their faces fall at the marks they received, which were not what they had wanted; but above all, Professor McGonagall was fair. If they couldn't keep their minds on their schoolwork, she wasn't going to let them get away with it, nor would she encourage their behavior by giving them good marks they didn't deserve.
She did grade on a curve though, and judged that this lapse in attention around the holidays would not cause lasting effects on their overall marks. Still, it was hard not to reprimand them, or to not write all over their essays with criticism. When students persisted in going off topic, and giving incorrect facts, which she had gone over repeatedly in classes, it showed that the young magic users didn't pay enough attention in classes around the holidays either. It frustrated McGonagall that she had to grade such essays, when she knew they weren't even necessary and she would have to review the material after the holidays anyway. She wished… well she couldn't let her students go without homework in the week before the hols. She had an image to uphold, and it would ruin the image she had cultivated, much like her colleague Severus Snape; that of a strict teacher who always "gives loads of homework" and if someone "so much as crossed her" she would give even more, along with the threat of detention and points taken away from their respective houses.
The essay in front of her was written by one of her Gryffindors, a young girl named Ivy Cromwell. It had started out with the proper assignment, that of turning inanimate objects into living creatures, involving a metal sphere transfigured into a mouse; which quickly degenerated into the uses of such a transfiguration; mentioning placing a marble on the floor of a crowded room and transforming it into the rodent, hopefully causing screaming and confusion.
As the students were writing in ink, anything which wasn't supposed to be there was crossed out. A line that had been dealt with in that way proved interesting, and almost made her laugh. "If a spell could be found that would trigger the transfiguration at a later time, for example, to use over the holidays, when magic is not allowed to be cast but is allowed to be activated; pranks could be played more easily on cousins, and if someone wanted to put a mouse in someone's knickers, then it would be easier using magic"
There actually were some spells that could be used in such a way. Of course they were very limited; they would not last longer than a month or so, but a spell like that would be a good way not to get caught. The culprit would be able to activate it at any time, and could actually be somewhere else, with an alibi for the prank, so as not to be incriminated.
She wrote her corrections in the margin of the essay, and added a note about what book would be likely to contain the spells needed, and a few more educational uses for it. She also added prank ideas of her own, which she 'crossed out' so that it seemed as if she hadn't meant to inform her student of any inappropriate uses for the spells found in that book. She wondered if her ideas would be used. That was one of the joys of teaching, if she could teach more; teach something that would stay in the student's minds, under the guise of something she shouldn't have let slip, then so much for the better. To know that what you taught didn't go to waste, but was actually used, in ways that provoke the imagination and influence new discoveries; well, it just made her job seem worthwhile.
As the Professor moved on to her next essay, a movement on the grounds, as seen from her window caught her eye. She was a cat animagus, and even in human form was able to detect movement at least ten times better than an ordinary human. Animagi often took on traits of their animal form. She, for instance, had excellent eyesight, and wore glasses mostly because they allowed her to look down her nose at misbehaving teenage magic users who were taller than herself. As she aged, she used them more for reading. She had worn glasses long before she had studied the animagus transformation, and it had become habit to reach for her glasses in the mornings.
Other feline traits she had retained in human form were her extraordinary sense of balance, sharp hearing, and a certain cat-like grace of movement. As a Registered Animagus, She was known by her markings in feline form. She could be picked out easily from a dozen tabby cats due to the spectacle stripes around her eyes. It was a small price to pay to be able to see the awe on her students' faces as they saw her transformation for the first time, and to witness those with enthusiasm try to become animagi also. She had had three students study under her in their quest to change into an animal at will. Only one had succeeded, and the others had quit after a while. When one of her students had found out his form was to be a mosquito, he had immediately ended his training to become an animagus. The other had been so far along with her training that the professor privately thought she had completed her training by herself, and was now a free unregistered animagus. Whatever the case, Minerva McGonagall enjoyed being an animagus, and the benefits being one reaped.
Certain species of animals actually communicated with each other, the cat being one of them. As a result, Professor McGonagall could understand the language of felines, though she had never told anyone. Therefore it came as no surprise when a large ginger tomcat entered her office, leapt onto the desk, and spoke to her.
"I thought you should know…" he paused, licking his hind leg as he determined the best way to phrase his news. Tail twitching in confusion, he continued: "There is a strange man at the edge of the forest. He is unknown to any of us, and is lying on his back in the snow, like a mouse hit too hard with a paw. He appears to be unconscious, and he smells like blood. One of us is with him, and they should be visible from this window."
She remembered the flash of movement from near the forest that had caught her eye. She didn't see how an injured man lying supine on the ground could have moved so quickly, but maybe what she'd seen was a feline's startled reaction to the discovery. Quickly snatching up her wand from where it had been lying on the desk next to her, she transformed, and firmly said in the speech of the felines: "lead me to him."