Keeper-Ballycastle Bats
Prompt: Write about someone turning into a household pet (by choice or otherwise) and living as one for a while.
Word Count: 1152
Attempts to keep my frown off my face were possibly not going well as my Gryffindor sixth-years seemed to get even more nervous. I ignored their shaking hands and whispered voices while walking around to keep an eye on each student.
Today marked the first day we would work on the human transfiguration portion of this class...a particularly trying day for a professor such as myself. Misfired spells and incorrect incantations were dangerous at this point; it wouldn't be a simple wave to transform a young witch back into a human from a cup, or whatever else they managed to turn themselves into.
"Professor McGonagall?" I turned my head slightly to eye the speaker and found a girl that looked about 10 years old with her hand up in the air.
"Yes?" A short two steps and I'd arrived at her desk to peer down at her through my glasses. Her bushy brown hair vaguely reminded of a graduate student from a while ago, Hermione Granger, but she was far from that level of talent, unfortunately.
"U-uh, I don't quite understand what I'm doing wrong here." She motioned to the caged Pixie on the edge of her desk that was blowing a rather uncivilised raspberry at her.
It dawned on me then that this girl's name was Elizabeth McCormac, she was of age of course, but her grades and expression told me that she'd always put in the minimum effort required to pass.
"Are you reciting the spell and waving your wand just so?" I asked mirthfully, as I raised a brow. I forced a jet of light from the end of my wand, transfiguring the little Pixie into a mouse.
"Yes." Her voice was growing smaller by the second, forcing a sigh out of me.
Pixies to mice had to be one the most straightforward steps to this level of mastery; their build-ups were almost alike, and she still couldn't do it.
"Undo this, and then we shall try again together." I nodded as I tried to force the disgruntled tone out of my voice. Students like her did better with positive encouragement rather than my usual no-nonsense attitude.
A wand wave or two later and the Pixie was back to its usual state, although it looked a bit frazzled and dazed. This was the problem with using a transfiguration spell rather than learning to be an Animagi; the witch or wizard often found themselves thinking just as the animal would naturally.
"One, two, three-" I watched as she waved her wand inelegantly and then she was faced with the consequences - a backfire. Transfiguration was obviously one of the most complex and dangerous forms of magic, something Miss McCormac didn't appear to understand.
"Oh, goodness," I exclaimed. If this were 20 years ago, I would have been shocked, and immediately rushed her right off to Pomfrey; but these days I found less and less surprised me.
"Bloody hell! Lizzie turned 'erself into a rat!" The boy she'd been sat next to was far too excited than he ought to be.
As a small squeak from the mouse that had once been Elizabeth sounded, I let out another sigh. The little thing panicked, probably at the site of large figures surrounding it.
"Class dismissed!" I bellowed as I scooped her up. The other students began to crowd her and called over my shoulder to the lot of them; I shooed them away impatiently.
I couldn't truly transfigure her back to her formerly shy self - this was a rather extraordinary reaction from her flailing and jerking wand motions. However, I could take care of her until the situation reversed itself in its due time. I should really, she was a Gryffindor...even if she was now a mouse. This would mean she would have to come to my quarters.
After I'd transfigured a small metal cage from a stool in my personal quarters, I was able to trap my former student inside. Miss McCormac looked mournfully from within her little prison, but at least she would be unable to nibble on my books or furniture this way.
Now it was time to inform the other teachers, letting them know exactly what had become of Miss McCormac. Considering she had passed many of her N.E.W.T's she wasn't exactly excelling in many of her subjects. The sound of squeaking disrupted the comforting noise of my quill scratching against the parchment harshly. I sighed more deeply than I ever had before; I turned to focus on the mouse, the mouse that had become of Miss McCormac.
She was nearly hanging off the side of the cage I'd created for her. It was large enough that if she transformed back to her former witchy-self, she would still have enough room, but right now she was just squeaking, begging me for attention.
I stared at her for a good second - then it dawned on me just as the lunch bell rang. Miss McCormac would likely be hungry. I quickly set about finding some vegetables that were left over from my last meal. I began shoving them into the spaces between each set of bars.
Stage one was complete; feed mousey McCormac before being was accused of mistreating a student. I felt rather proud that I could still take care of another creature and moved on with the rest of my daily tasks.
Unfortunately, we never got past stage one. Miss McCormac continued to squeak. For a little thing, she was quite demanding of attention. I peered into her cage with barely any interest and charmed a stray piece of carrot; it began dancing in some effort to alleviate that terrible high pitched squeak.
By the time evening rolled around I was still playing mother to the mouse. I attempted to sit in my chair and quietly read a lovely book; again the squeaking stalled any such plans. Turning to the source of the squeaking, I raised a brow at her antics, she was running from one side of the cage to the other. These weren't the usual attention demanding squeaks. Unfortunately, I had come to understand that this was a sort of high pitched squeal of excitement or laughter. How I began to notice the difference I will never know.
As someone who actively strived to learn all I could about felines, I knew them inside and out; I quickly realised I hadn't spent any time on mice. It wasn't as though I hated such creatures, but I also didn't have much love for the species. Maybe that was the feline indifference in me. The tip of my pointer finger tapped rapidly against my lips as I watched her dart from side to side, and I set about trying to recall every book I'd read that contained information of these pests. I just couldn't wait until my new pet became a student again!