Young Minerva McGonagall stalked off the Quidditch pitch, broom in tow with her eyes flashing. This was second time in as many games that the referees had 'not noticed' fouls upon Gryffindor House Quidditch players by the Slytherins. Everyone knew that this referee's loyalties were with the Slytherin house, and that he was incapable of calling the games impartially. Minerva sought out the Slytherin team's captain to give him a piece of her mind. Minerva was known for her sharp tongue and no-nonsense personality.
She pulled at Duggan Drake's robes from behind to get his attention. His eyebrows raised when he turned to see the young Gryffindor seething with anger.
"That's the last time you lot get away with that!" she hissed. Her raven black hair sleeked back into a braid set off by her green eyes gave one the impression of a cat, in this case, a feral one. Duggan laughed at her, as if to dismiss her threat.
"What're YOU gonna do about it?" he challenged, not bothering to deny any wrong doing.
Minerva hissed. "You'll know it when you see it." She pushed by him, making sure to knock him in the shoulder as she did so, as if to punctuate her resolve. Duggan shrugged and laughed it off with his team mates, but that did not diminish the uneasy feeling that grew in him. If there was one thing he knew about Minerva McGonagall, it was that she meant what she said, and had the courage to back it up.
Later that night, Minerva sat in the comfortable chair by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, waiting for the last stragglers to leave. All day she had struggled with her conscience. As a house prefect, she often admonished other students for altercations between houses, and she never promoted discord, but now that it was personal, she understood how anger and resentment might drive a person to do something they normally wouldn't. She told no one of her plan of revenge on the Slytherin team. If she were caught, the repercussions would be hers alone.
When the last student went upstairs to the dormitory, Minerva took a deep breath, stared into the fire, and concentrated with all her might. She then closed her eyes and imagined a cat. Not just how a cat would look, but how it would see and hear and feel. She felt her skin tingling and the familiar odd sensation of shrinking. She smiled to herself as she opened her eyes and looked down to see her two grey paws neatly tucked underneath her. She had again successfully transformed into a cat.
Minerva was an animagus, and with the help of Professor Dumbledore, her transfiguration professor, she was refining her skills. It was very dangerous to transform at this stage, as she was not yet expert. Anything could go terribly wrong, but she had done it before, and felt a burning desire to do it again, to get her revenge against the Slytherins.
Dumbledore had warned her against using this talent for malicious purposes or personal gain. Minerva was as responsible a student as had ever passed through the doors of Hogwarts, yet she was still a young, headstrong girl, whose passions ran high. She felt a twinge of guilt as she thought of how it would feel if Dumbledore ever found out about this.
But her pride won out. As she had planned, Piers Cooper, who was due to return from a late detention, entered the common room through the round opening under the portrait of the fat lady. As he entered, she jumped from her chair and darted past him into the corridor. He wasn't particularly startled to see a cat in the common room, as many students' familiars were cats. He was too tired to bother about it, and slumped up to bed without a backwards glance.
Minerva padded down the corridor keeping to the shadows against the stone walls. She marveled at the various strange sensations she experienced as a cat, and thought how incredible it was to be in this form, yet still have her own human mind. This was magic at its most magical! Her whiskers twitched as she sensed very soft air currents she would never have noticed as a human. She could see extremely well in the dark too, an ability she wished she could keep all time. It would come in handy on a dark Quidditch Pitch!
As she made her way down the hall towards the dungeons, where she knew the Slytherin common room was located, she began worrying about this part of her plan. She had overheard a Slytherin student in the library earlier talking about a Quidditch tactical meeting in the Slytherin Common room, and she hoped she could gain access by following him. As she sat in a corner waiting patiently, she heard the scurrying of a mouse somewhere nearby.
Suddenly, all of her attention snapped to the small rodent, and before she could even stop herself, she pounced at it, narrowly catching its tail with her paw. An unbidden frenzy seized her, and she could not tear herself away from the hole that the small creature had darted into. She stared at the hole with all of her attention, all thoughts of her plan completely fallen away.
Without warning, she became aware that a person was approaching, and this brought her back to her own mind. It was Professor Dumbledore, out for an evening stroll of the castle, or so it seemed. As he passed, he glanced at her casually, but she could have sworn she saw a glimmer of recognition in his eye. Her heart pounded, but she made no move. He simply passed by her, whistling a nameless tune. Fear and shame flooded over her, and she nearly abandoned her effort. Just as she had decided to go back to her dormitory, the Slytherin boy came shuffling down the hallway.
"Black Mamba" he shouted at the wall and a passageway revealed itself. Out of sheer curiosity now, Minerva ran through the opening just behind the boy and darted behind a sofa before he saw her.
Minerva had never been in the Slytherin's common room before. Although it was luxurious and plush, it was distinctly more cold than the Gryffindor's comfy welcoming room. The light had a distinctive green cast and it was with some surprise that Minerva realized it must extend partway under the lake that marked the surrounding landscape of the castle. The chairs and sofas were mostly dark leather, very unlike the overstuffed comfortable chairs she loved about Gryffindor's. Even the fireplace did not seem to cast much warmth or light.
Now that Minerva was safely behind the couch, she wondered if there would be anything she could do. What if she didn't overhear anything of value? How would she get out of the room as a cat who could not open the door? Would she be stuck in this cold room all night? She heard whispering from the boy's dormitory hallway. Several boys were coming back down to the common room. One voice she recognized as Duggan Drake's, the Quidditch Captain, and others turned out to be those of the team's beaters. Minerva crouched lower, though she needn't have worried. Even if they did see her, they were unlikely to think anything suspicious about a cat. She began to have her first real inkling of just how powerful of a skill transfiguration was, and just how badly it could be abused, but she quickly pushed that thought from her mind to focus on the conversation.
More students arrived until the whole team was there. Minerva noted with particular dislike Philomena Parkinson, a girl she considered to be her Slytherin rival. They settled in, taking seats in a semi circle around a chalk board that had been covered with a sheet.
"Listen up," said Duggan. "I want to bury Gryffindor in the next match. I don't just want to beat them, I want to destroy them," he laughed derisively. His friend Connor laughed in response, but there was a rather stupid quality about the boy, who appeared to want to ingratiate himself to his captain.
"What're we gonna do?" he asked thickly, clearly incapable of any sophisticated ideas himself.
"We're going to take out the captain and his star player, that shrew McGonagall."
Minerva's cat-heart skipped at the combination compliment/insult. Although it was gratifying to know they thought of her as a 'star player,' she was horrified at the title 'shrew.' That barb spurred her anger and she settled in to try to hear their full plan.
"We gonna set a rogue bludger on 'em?" asked Connor.
"No, stupid. That would be too obvious," retorted Duggan. Connor deflated.
"We got lucky last time that the ref calling the game was one of ours, and no other teachers noticed any foul play. This time, we have to do something that doesn't involve magic, and can't be traced back to us." The players looked perplexed, but nodded for fear of being thought simple minded.
"We're going to put something in their breakfast that will give them severe stomach aches. They'll have to forfeit, or else put their backup players into the game, which means, we'll take the game easily." Duggan was extremely pleased with himself and stalked back and forth across the room arrogantly.
Minerva was unable to suppress a low hiss, which issued from where she was hiding under the couch. A few of the boys glanced in her direction, but recognizing that it was just someone's cat, they resumed their discussion.
"But how are we gonna do that?" asked Connor. "The food just appears on the tables. We won't be able to spike it without people seeing us."
It was a good question, but Duggan made it seem foolish.
He walked theatrically over to the covered chalkboard that usually displayed their Quidditch tactics and pulled off the sheet. On the board was an ugly caricature of a House Elf with large bat-like ears and huge bulbous eyes.
"I made a deal with one of the house elves that prepares the food," announced Duggan.
There was a collective gasp from the team and shouts of surprise and laughter.
"A House Elf?" said the boy who was the team's goal keep. Clearly, he had never realized that house elves, a race of magical being that generally served some wizarding families in their household duties, worked in the kitchens at Hogwarts. As a rule, house elves did not get paid for their labor.
"Yeah," said Duggan, approaching the boy with a gleeful and cruel expression. "Haven't you ever heard of them?"
"S-sure," stammered the boy, not wanting to be ridiculed. "But I didn't think they worked here in the castle. And they don't take money for work. What kind of deal did you make with him?"
"I told him I would present him with clothes and free him if he didn't do as I told him," crowed Duggan. It was a vile thing to do, playing on the pride of the house elves, who are insulted if their masters attempt to pay them or reward their service or free them.
Minerva's cat stomach lurched at the meanness of the plan. She had never resorted to foul play to win anything. How could such a victory be appreciated? But with Slytherins, the ends always justified the means. Her cat eyes narrowed with anger, and she barely stopped herself from hissing again.
"What if he tells Headmaster Dippet?" asked Philomena Parkinson, her broad flat face making her seem brutish.
"I told him not to tell anyone," said Duggan. "The thing about House Elves is that you can't leave any loopholes." His narrow face beamed with superiority and self-satisfaction.
"How's he going to make sure it's just their food?" asked another boy.
"Well, we may not be able to limit the damage to just McGonagall and their captain, but we can place the tainted food closest to them. It may look more natural if a few other students get sick and not just the Quidditch players."
There was general laughter and rough housing as they considered this latest plan. Some of the team members came up to Duggan and gave him congratulatory slaps on the back. Minerva knew that she had to stop this plan from being executed, but she had to wait until everyone left the common room for their dormitories before she could make her escape.
It was an hour later by the time they had all left the common room for bed, and it was nearly midnight. Minerva had never maintained the form of a cat for this long, and she feared that at some point she would tire and turn back into a human. The fear of discovery gave her all of the willpower she needed to maintain her transfiguration, but it was a hard earned lesson. She had not thought this out nearly enough, and risked personal injury or even expulsion from Hogwarts. The severity of the situation left an indelible mark on her conscience.
Once the students had all left the room, the problem then became how to get out. An animal would not trigger the door to open, and she was afraid that if she turned into a human, especially a Gryffindor student, that the inhabitants of the pictures on the walls would recognize an intruder and sound the alarm. Her tail twitched nervously, and when she thought they were all asleep, she crept from beneath the couch as stealthily as if she were stalking a mouse. No one stirred.
Once she was directly in front of the door, she soundlessly returned to human form and pushed the door open. It swung quietly, thankfully, and Minerva ran from the dungeon hallway as quietly as she humanly could. She ran directly to the Gryffindor Common room, where the fat lady objected loudly to being disturbed at that late hour.
"Animo Capesseret," she shouted at the portrait, feeling anything but brave hearted, as the password suggested. The portrait gave way to any empty Gryffindor Common Room, which Minerva now fully appreciated for the warmth and comfort it exuded. She had three days until the next Quidditch match in which to formulate a plan to thwart Duggan and his cronies. How to do that without exposing her own indiscretions was going to be very challenging.
The next day Minerva was exhausted from her sustained transfiguration efforts, and could barely keep her eyes open in her classes. It was unusual for her to be sleepy and unprepared, and several of her teachers noticed this with surprise and were concerned for her. Her last class of the day, regrettably, was a special transfiguration lesson with none other than Albus Dumbledore. By this time, she was so tired she felt sick. When she arrived at Dumbledore's office, her knees trembled and she wavered between telling him the truth and maintaining her silence. Dumbledore had a way of looking at a person with his piercing blue eyes and making it seem that he was looking right through to their soul.
He peered over his half moon glasses at her, not unkindly, but with an air of knowing about him that Minerva found hard to endure.
"Is there anything you wish to tell me about?" he asked quietly, while fishing about in a candy dish to find just the right piece of licorice. He offered her the bowl while maintaining his gaze, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. Minerva lowered her own gaze and stammered.
"N-no, sir. It's just...I'm not feeling very well." She did not take any candy, but remained with her head bowed, wringing her hands together. Dumbledore did not need a verbal admission of guilt to spot its traces in her bearing.
He smiled sadly, with the air of one recalling some regret from his own past, and said, "Sometimes one finds that in one's hurry to right an injustice, one's own motives are no less self serving than those of our enemies."
Minerva's stomach felt as if there were a stone at the pit of it. He knew. How was it that Dumbledore always knew? But, he had not come out and said as much, so neither would she. She decided to maintain her silence about her night time adventure, and resolved then and there to thwart the plan without seeking any further revenge against the Slytherins.
The following day, Minerva had regained sufficient strength to return to normal. She endured the classes she usually enjoyed with impatience, waiting for nightfall when she would once again take to the hallways as a cat. This time, she would be heading towards the Hogwart's kitchens where the House Elves lived in such secrecy, many students didn't even know of their existence. There were several mice about, especially as the food pantries grew closer, but this time, Minerva's concentration did not waver. Once she was inside the work area among the House Elves, she transfigured back into human form. Many of the elves gasped and some made hand motions suggestive of casting spells at her. But when they realized it was a student, and McGonagall no less, they froze in mid action.
"Please don't be alarmed," she shouted, holding up both hands in front of her, showing that she did not have her wand out. As a star student, Quidditch player and House Prefect, they knew perfectly well who she was.
"Miss McGonagall," said one of the older elves, approaching her with a slight extended bow. It was Bugby, one of the first House Elves ever to come to Hogwarts under the care of Helga Hufflepuff.
"Why have you come to our kitchens? You are the second student this week to have done so. It is not...appropriate," he finished, but clearly not wanting to offend her.
"No, it isn't" she answered, wringing her hands. "That's why I'm here. The other student who came here, did he ask you to put something in our food to make us ill? The Gryffindor team's food, I mean?" she stammered.
The elf considered her for a long moment before answering.
"He did, miss," answered the elf slowly.
Minerva's stomach lurched thinking of the sheer audacity of such a thing.
"Well, did he threaten to do something to you, if you disobeyed?"
Again, the elf paused and considered her question before answering.
"He did, miss."
Minerva wasn't sure if she had the authority to order an elf at Hogwarts, as they were not her personal charges, but then, the same would hold true for any other student.
"I release you from that promise," she said. "I must ask you not to put anything in the food, and I promise that I will protect you from anything that the other student threatened against you!" It was somewhat of a tentative statement, she knew, even as she said it. How would she be able to protect the elves from someone intent on doing them harm, or releasing them from service? She couldn't very well guard them 24 hours a day. She knew at that very moment that she must come clean about the whole affair to Dumbledore. If anyone could set things right it would be him, even if that meant revealing her own night time transgressions. It was the right thing to do. The Quidditch game no longer seemed to matter in the face of the threats to the house elves.
The elf regarded her with his huge bulbous eyes. His expression was one of bemusement. He simply said "Yes, miss. Thank you, miss."
Minerva stood for a moment in a state of uncertainty. Was that all she had to do to prevent them tainting the food? Was there something else that needed to be said or done? But the old elf just stood staring at her sweetly, with his large eyes blinking.
"OK," she said, as she made her way to exit the kitchens, still in human form. She drew a deep breath as she resolved to confess to Dumbledore. "OK."
Two days later, the students were filing into the Great Hall the morning of the Quidditch Match. Minerva had, of course, warned her team to avoid eating from platters of food nearby them, just in case her preemptive strike on the Slytherin's plan had failed. She had no way of knowing what the outcome would be until it happened. She had approached Dumbledore twice since her foray into the kitchens, with the intent on telling him about the Slytherin treachery and abuse of the House Elves, but when she thought of possible expulsion for her own transfiguration misuse, she could not yet muster the courage. She would do it, she told herself, before there was any harm to the elves, if it had in fact turned out badly.
Duggan walked behind the Gryffindor table with a few of the Slytherin Quidditch players. They jeered at Minerva and laughed amongst themselves.
"Have a good breakfast," he said, smirking. "You'll need all of your strength for this match. We're going to pound you!" They jostled each other in horse play as they made their way back to their table. Minerva noted that they were stuffing themselves with breakfast foods, clearly confident that their plan was in effect. She and her teammates had barely touched anything. They had stowed some food in their common room the night before, just in case things didn't turn out well. Minerva chanced a glance at Dumbledore at the teacher's table. He was looking directly at her, and he had that familiar look in his eye…the look that made it seem as if he knew everything about everything. She shifted uneasily in her seat. He actually smiled and winked at her. She smiled back weakly. Well, at least she hadn't done anything to seek revenge on the Slytherin team. Her only infraction was that she used her transfiguration magic to spy on the Slytherins. But the only thing she did with that knowledge was to keep her teammates safe. There was no harm in that. Was there?
Later on the Quidditch pitch, when the two captains shook hands, Duggan's face showed concern. None of the first stringers had been replaced as he had anticipated. The Gryffindor team stood before him fit and ready for the fight. His eyebrows knit in annoyance, and he walked away muttering.
The game was a rout, but not in the direction any of the Slytherin's anticipated. Minerva was focused and high spirited. Her team rallied around her and thwarted every move the Slytherin's made. At one point, she came eye to eye with Duggan, and she gave him her most mischievous smile. He cursed at her, which only made her laugh, which in turn, made him more angry and prone to making mistakes. By the end of the game, Duggan Drake and his team mates were so humiliated, they stalked off the field to an accompaniment of jeers by the Gryffindor spectators, and boos of disgust by students of their own house. Minerva couldn't resist a parting shot as they walked past.
"We beat you on talent Duggan. It's the only worthy way of winning anything."
He looked at her oddly. Did she know about his plan? How had it been foiled? She took immense satisfaction in his confusion and doubt. Minerva absorbed the cheers from her own house with unabashed pride. As she scanned the crowd for friends, her eyes met those of Albus Dumbledore in the teacher's galley. He was clapping politely and nodded at her. She knew at that moment that if she were to retain any shred of self respect, she would have to come clean about her transfiguration use. Otherwise, Dumbledore would never trust her again.
Later that afternoon, after the dust had settled from the Gryffindor victory, Minerva made her way to Dumbledore's office. Her heart beat faster, more out of the feeling of shame rather than any real fear of Dumbledore himself. She paused for a second at the door, then squared her shoulders and knocked purposefully at the door.
"Enter Minerva," he said from somewhere in the depths of his office. She knew he was one of the most powerful wizards she had ever met, but it still unnerved her sometimes just how uncanny he could be. As it turned out, he was perched rather precariously on a ladder, to reach a book that was on one of the higher bookshelves.
"Why don't you just use the 'accio' spell sir?" asked Minerva. She knew it was an impertinent question as soon as she had asked it, but at that moment her curiosity overpowered her manners.
Dumbledore just smiled at her over the top of his spectacles. She actually blushed under his gazed, but his smile was not unkindly.
"I have found, Minerva, that when one uses magic casually and frequently, one can come to be unappreciative of it. Magic should never be used mindlessly. It is a great gift, and should not be taken lightly." His gaze punctuated the meaning of his words. He had known it was her on the hallway that night.
"Professor Dumbledore, sir, I have a confession to make," she said, haltingly. He had alit from the ladder and seated himself behind his desk, propping his chin up on his two folded hands, waiting patiently, nodding encouragingly.
"I used transfiguration the other night to try to find out the Slytherin's Quidditch tactics. I know I shouldn't have, but they've been cheating, and I just wanted to stop them." All of this tumbled out at great speed. Dumbledore leaned forward.
"And what did you find out?" he asked politely, although she suspected he already knew everything.
"They tried to blackmail the house elves into making us sick with food served at breakfast. They hoped the game would be forfeit or that our second stringers would play."
"And just how did they threaten the House Elves?" asked Dumbledore, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes.
"They threatened to…to free them, sir." She realized just how ridiculous that sounded. Dumbledore's eye brows went up in mock surprise, and he nodded.
"And what exactly did you do with that information?" he asked pointedly.
"Well, I visited the house elves in the kitchens," she began. "I told them that I released them from their promise to Duggan Drake and that I promised to protect them if he were to seek revenge." As she spoke, she realized just how foolish it had been to promise such a thing. She could never have kept them safe.
"I should have told you, sir. I realize that now." Her shoulders sagged with remorse.
"And did you get your revenge on Slytherin?" he asked as conversationally as if he were asking her about the weather. Minerva blinked. She had been expecting him to rail at her, but then again, that really wasn't his way. It was punishment enough just to feel that you had disappointed him.
"We didn't do anything to seek revenge," she said weakly. "We just went in and played a hard game to the best of our abilities. Without cheating," she added with satisfaction.
Dumbledore regarded her for a moment as if assessing her, and she squirmed under his scrutiny.
"I am, of course,already aware of all that transpired," he said matter-of-factly, with no hint of boastfulness. "I just wanted to hear you admit to it." He nodded to himself.
"As you know, Minerva, the use of transfiguration by a student without the direct supervision of a teacher is a violation of school rules." He had suddenly become serious, imposing even. Minerva actually flinched.
"You put yourself in grave danger that night. You haven't yet fully realized all of the nuances of transfiguration. I think if you understood its dangers, you would never have attempted it, and for such a trivial reason!" He had stood up and walked around behind where she was seated. He paced for a moment as if deciding on how best to proceed.
"Transfiguration is a rare gift," he said, almost in a whisper to himself. "I know you are young and headstrong," he continued. He put a hand on her shoulder, gently. "But you must promise me that you will never use this skill again without my supervision until I deem that you are ready."
Minerva nodded her assent. Shame made her eyes burn, but she would not cry in front of Albus Dumbledore. "I suppose this means I will be expelled," she said sadly, only now really understanding the import of what she had done. Her heart was very heavy.
"No one knows more than I do the allure of experimenting with magic," said Dumbledore ruefully. "But because you have freely admitted your transgression, I know that you are a good and trustworthy person. So, I am afraid that you will be subject to a month's worth of detention." He looked at her intently as if to measure her response. It took her a full few seconds to take in the words. She jumped from her seat.
"You mean, I'm not expelled?" she gasped.
"No," he answered simply. "But I must impress upon you the seriousness of this situation. I will not be able to cover for you again should you decide to disobey the rules."
"No sir, I understand. Thank you, sir!" She would have loved to run up and hug him, but one simply didn't do that.
Minerva was just about to run out of the room, when she remembered something.
"Sir, what about the house elves? Were they really in danger of being sent away from Hogwarts?"
Dumbledore nodded, clearly happy that she had compassion enough to ask after the elves.
"They were never bound by Duggan Drake's demands in the first place. Headmaster Dippet is their master, and staff members may make requests of them. Of course, Bugby went to the Head Master immediately and told him everything. " He paused just long enough to select a candy from a dish on his desk and hold it out to Minerva, who took one without even really wanting it.
"What about Duggan? Will he be punished?" asked Minerva.
"We'll leave that to Professor Slughorn to sort out," he said with a finality that signaled the topic was closed.
Minerva nodded, and turned as if to leave. She hesitated, as if going through some internal debate. Finally she asked, "Professor, did you know it was me, that night in the hallway?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Of course. I recognized you immediately!"
Minerva wondered a moment if she should should just leave before he could change his mind on her punishment. But she couldn't resist asking.
"Sir…why didn't you stop me?"
Dumbledore regarded her solemnly. "I believe the only way to truly learn a lesson is through direct experience." Minerva nodded but still looked bemused.
"I made sure that the portraits in the Slytherin common room kept an eye on you," he added, guessing her question.
Minerva McGonagall smiled tentatively and looked around Dumbledore's office, gratified to not have been expelled.
"You're right, sir. Magic is a gift. I see that now, and I will never take it for granted again!"
Dumbledore smiled at her warmly. "I am sure of it."