Part II
Well played, my dear! Dumbledore thought to himself when McGonagall changed to her animagus form. Watching her dart between his legs gave him the urge to bring his foot down on her tail just to stop her, but the realization that he would be doomed to a week of wicked glares and possibly several cat scratches kept his foot planted in the snow. He decided some enchanted snowballs were a better option. Dumbledore bewitched a couple snowballs to follow the cat as it ran frantically as to not get hit. He laughed merrily at her attempts to escape her pursuers until he found her sprinting straight for him. She ran through his legs, and as he watched her, Dumbledore forgot about the enchanted snowballs until they pelted him in the stomach.
After steadying himself from the unexpected blow, the headmaster looked up to once again see the tabby sprinting towards him. Dumbledore bent his knees to prepare for her to attack and held his arms open for her. The cat leapt into air. While in mid-air, McGonagall transformed back to her original body, and Dumbledore's eyes widened in realization only too late. He caught the flying McGonagall in his arms but was thrown off his feet by the sheer force of the impact.
Dumbledore landed flat on his back with McGonagall straddling him. Her breath was heavy and fast from running, but her face glowed with delight as her cheeks were flushed from cardio or cold, Dumbledore couldn't tell. They looked at each other for a moment. McGonagall's lips trembled before she burst with laughter, inviting Dumbledore to join in. She leaned down on him as he brought his arms around her to embrace her. They laughed while hugging until McGonagall was able to regain control of herself.
"You really should have seen your face when I transformed, Albus," she said lifting herself out of his arms though keeping him pinned beneath her.
"I'm sure you would have the same expression if you prepared for a cat only to be trampled by a full-grown woman," Dumbledore retorted in mock severity wiping away a stray tear. He looked McGonagall up and down before asking, "Are you going to get off, my dear?"
She brought a finger to her lips as her eyes lifted in contemplation. "No, I don't believe I will."
He gazed slightly incredulously at her. "And why not?"
McGonagall put her fists on her hips and said sternly, "This is payback for your trickery with the snowmen and for tackling me earlier. That," she poked him playfully in the chest, "was not fair, Albus." With that, she folded her arms across her chest in triumph.
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at her. Then, he scooped a handful of snow and cuffed it to her face. Just as he was caught off guard, McGonagall stumbled off the headmaster to lie in the snow beside him. After the shock of what happened passed, the two professors broke out in frenzied laughter. They laid together in the snow for what seemed ages until their breath was once again even.
Dumbledore let out a small sigh before he got to his feet. He brushed off some snow before offering his hand to McGonagall. She took it. Once most of the snow was no longer clinging to them, McGonagall looked at Dumbledore.
"Thank you."
He returned her gaze and smiled. "Sometimes it is best to lose one's self in nonsense. A little insanity helps one keep their sanity."
She nodded. "As much of a contradiction as that is, I can't help but agree."
Dumbledore noticed her shiver. "Allow me," he said as he took out his wand. With a flick of his wrist, both professors felt a gust of warm air flow down them as their cloaks dried and heated their bodies from the outside in. McGonagall smiled her gratitude to him.
"I believe it is time we arrived for lunch, Albus."
"I concur, Minerva." He took her arm in his and led her to the Great Hall. Recollections of their battle in the snow was the topic of discussion as the two professors made their way to the Entrance Hall. Both paused to Vanish their cloaks to their private chambers before Dumbledore pushed the enormous doors to the Great Hall open. McGonagall followed suit and strode at her usually brisk pace. Professors Sprout and Flitwick were gathered near the head table deep in conversation when McGonagall joined them.
"Filius, the Chudley Cannons are by far the most abysmal team in Quidditch. How could you possibly believe they would stand a chance against the Branded Banshees of Scotland?" Sprout threw at Flitwick with the tiniest hint of a frown on her face.
In his bright, squeaky voice, Flitcwick answered, "I like to support the team that seems unlikely to win for the season in hopes they will prevail!"
"Always the optimistic Filius," McGonagall chuckled leaning down to pat the Charms professor on the shoulder.
"My, my, Minerva," Sprout pointed at her cheeks, "your face is awfully flush."
"It's ruddy cold outside," McGonagall smiled at the plump witch.
All three professors' heads turned when they heard a tiny 'pop.' Dumbledore was down on one knee talking to a very enthusiastic house elf. Beaming, the headmaster nodded and patted the bouncy little elf on the head before it disappeared with an identical 'pop.'
He gingerly got to his feet and turned to his attention to the huddled group "If you'll permit me," he said indicating they should stand aside. The three professors obliged. Dumbledore took out his wand and pointed at the house tables separately vanishing them completely. He levitated the head table to the center of the hall simultaneously reducing its size. Twelve chairs came zooming from the front of the hall and placed themselves at equal intervals around the table. Dumbledore transfigured a festive cloth for the table before stowing his wand in his robes.
He walked to the head of the table where he was joined by the professors.
"I'm told there are only six students staying for the holidays. It seemed ridiculous to use house tables for twelve people," he smiled brightly at them. "Shall we?"
He pulled out McGonagall's chair as Flitwick imitated the gesture for Sprout. Both witches sat opposite one another and immediately began discussing the progress of the Herbology teacher's personal garden of herbs. Flitwick scrambled up the seat to Professor Sprout's right as Dumbledore eased himself down into the one between the two witches at the head of the table. After a few minutes, Dumbledore's attention to the conversation wandered as Professor Snape followed by Filch made their way into the Hall. He chuckled as the Potions master grimaced at the solitary table. Snape took the seat to McGonagall's left nodding to her. She responded with a small, elegant bow of her head before returning her attentions to Professor Sprout.
Drinks appeared on the table as a couple frightened first year students wandered to the table taking the seats farthest from the professors. Not shortly after the first years arrived then a Slytherin student came, frowning at having either to sit near the teachers or the first years. He reluctantly sat next to Professor Flitwick, who instantly struck up a friendly conversation. After Harry, Ron and Hermione filled the remaining chairs, food appeared and everyone began to tuck in.
When, surprisingly, Professor Trelawney arrived, Dumbledore conjured a chair for her between McGonagall and Snape. There was some nonsense about thirteen people at the table before McGonagall persuaded her to sit. The meal went pleasantly enough, with Dumbledore managing to keep his snickers hidden every time McGonagall and Trelawney had at it.
After two hours of gorging themselves with and food and enjoying a fair amount of holiday crackers, the students stood to leave. Hermione, however, stayed behind as Harry and Ron left for the Common Room.
She came up between the headmaster and McGonagall asking, "Could I have a word with you, Professor?"
McGonagall nodded and excused herself from the table.
She led Hermione a few feet from the staff then inquired, "What is it Miss Granger?" The young witch was clearly agitated by something.
"It's just that Harry was sent something in the mail."
McGonagall raised an eyebrow.
"Professor, it was a Firebolt," Hermione pleaded to a certain extent. "There was no letter attached to it, and Harry has no idea who could have sent it. I told him he should have reported it, but…" she trailed off.
McGonagall nodded. "You were wise to tell me, Miss Granger." She gave her a small, reassuring smile. "Come, let's go have a look."
Hermione returned her smile weakly as she turned to leave the hall with McGonagall following.
Dumbledore's eyes discreetly followed the progress of the two witches out of the hall before redirecting his attention back to Flitwick who had begun a tale about magical callouses.