"What if?"

A Harry Potter story (AU, set in the beginning of HP-ATSS to follow each school year but with trickles here and there from years 2-6) started July 2007, just before the release of Book #7. This tale ignores DH and subsequent revelations about canon characters and timelines. It is, for the most part, RaM-verse compliant. If you don't know that story, the full title is "Resolving a Misunderstanding" by MMADfan. I highly recommend it.

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling; I do not own these canon characters, and I do not make money from these fictional adventures.

Rating: K+ to T (just to be on the safe side, for mild coarse language and implied sexuality; ADMM and FFPS).

A/N: The Chamber of Secrets has been opened and the first Petrified victim is found.

Chapter 37/?

Tea and Sympathy

Gilderoy Lockhart bustled about his classroom lighting additional candles to provide more illumination while Headmaster Dumbledore examined the unnaturally immobile feline body on the broad polished desktop; the portrait versions of Lockhart darted in and out of view indecisively, some obviously dressed for bed in a rainbow of silks and satins. A few of them even had their perfect golden hair done up in curlers and protective nighttime hairnets. So many animated copies of the newest faculty member, in all manner of states of disarray, was disturbing even to Ron—and he had grown up in a completely Wizarding household (granted, it was a far less pretentious environment at the Weasleys' Burrow).

Potions Master Severus Snape stood off to one side with his arms crossed on his chest, looking like he was trying not to smile at the present predicament of the three Gryffindor second-years. Lurking there in the shadows, he looked more and more like a giant vampire bat. After attending Sir Nicolas' Deathday party, it was a close call as to which situation was the more uncomfortable of the two events for Harry and then there was the whole "hearing voices in the castle walls" thing on top of that.

Off to the other side of the desk and just out of the brightest of the light, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in very rough wooden chairs, tense and nervously watching the impromptu start of the investigation as across from them, Argus Filch sobbed and wailed noisily over Mrs. Norris. Her brownish-tan fuzzy, fluffy body was lying motionless, looking more dead than alive while Dumbledore's rather crooked nose tracked no more than inches above her. Professor McGonagall too scanned the inanimate feline, frown lines of concentration drawn on her eyes and cheeks.

"He did it! He killed my cat," Filch wailed hoarsely, pointing a shaking finger at Harry. His eyes and pitted jowls were swollen and red from weeping, not that either of these disheveled traits improved his looks or disposition. "You've always hated me and 'er, too! You beastly, murdering piece of…"

Harry's eyes grew wide as he had no earthly idea how to defend himself against such an outrageous and vituperative accusation. Just to his left, he heard Ron gulp noisily.

"Argus! Compose yourself if you please," Dumbledore raised his voice authoritatively in an effort to redirect Filch's attention. "I understand that you are distraught my boy and this is a difficult time for you, but she is most assuredly not dead," he said, gently but firmly.

Filch gaped at the Headmaster, his wobbly-skinned jaw dropping open in utter disbelief. "Of course she's dead! Even I can see it just from lookin' at 'er, sir," he protested, his reedy voice cracking and trailing off again into heart-wrenching sobs. "Mrs. Norris never hurt a fly and here she lies! Gone!"

By now he was well into the "ugly crying" part of his grief and it didn't look to be diminishing at all, even in the presence of four full-time Hogwarts faculty members, as well as three second-year students. As he sat there with his stomach churning with hunger and anxiety, Harry actually felt sorry for the guy. He dared to share a quick glance with Hermione, who gave him a sympathetic one-shouldered shrug. Potter had to force himself not to look over at Snape. He knew that wouldn't be pleasant.

"Argus, I guarantee you. She is not dead; you have my word," Albus continued patiently. "She has been Petrified although how it happened and by whom, I do not know. There is no residual wand signature that I can detect." Minerva's eyebrows rose at this declaration. As far as she knew, every wand left a trace.

Filch drew himself upright and dragged a sleeve across his snotty, rubicund nose. He jerked his chin accusingly at Harry even as he hiccoughed, trying to control his weeping. "He did it, that Potter. Always had it out for me, he did. Even his father and… Left her hangin' from that sconce by her tail like she was a bit of spider web to be dusted away."

Albus sighed and closed his eyes in supplication. Give me strength, he prayed silently to whomever happened to be listening. "The magic necessary to accomplish such a total corporeal Petrification is far too advanced for a second year student, Argus, even at Hogwarts. Professor Flitwick covers it much later in his Charms curriculum. I assure you that we shall get to the bottom of this in a timely manner and for the good of us all."

Glancing over Dumbledore's shoulder and popping up on tiptoe here and there around the desk, Lockhart was murmuring his own assurances (and blissfully unaware of just how much of a meddlesome pain in the arse he was being). "Ah, Petrified! Yes, as I determined that just now as well, Headmaster. Well done, if I may say, sir. Astute and incisive, even."

Hermione chewed lightly on the inside of her bottom lip, uncertain of what to think when it sounded like her Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had swallowed whole a thesaurus or Oxford English Dictionary (or both). The shine was coming off the apple, so to speak. Ron and Harry had more or less identical expressions of disgust when it came to Gilderoy Lockhart, though they were not as obvious about it as their classmates Seamus or Neville or even Brian as a general rule.

Albus glanced over at McGonagall, giving a subtle exasperated shake of his head; his wife and Deputy of many decades knew exactly what he was communicating in that minimal expression of body language. At that very moment though, a young black and white cat meowed softly as it leapt to the desktop in front of Minerva. The three Gryffindors jerked up in their chairs, more than a bit startled. If his dramatic entrance surprised either of Brian's parents, they both covered it well. Brian-as-cat chirruped quietly at the Transfiguration Mistress; it sounded like a question as he looked up at her with bright blue cat-eyes. His whiskers arched forward in anticipation.

"Why yes, indeed Mr. Tux, I think that is rather thoughtful of you to do so," she answered when the cat bumped her hand with the top of his head and she ran the hand obligingly down along his back. The smooth muscles rippled under the shiny fur and he meowed once more before insinuating himself under Filch's arm and climbing into his lap. Tux's tail twitched upwards, tickling a flabbergasted Argus under the jawline.

Sniffling pathetically, Filch sat back to look down at the handsome feline, rubbing away tears with the back of one hand. "Oh. Oh my!" he exclaimed with wonder when Tux tapped the castle caretaker's chin with one forepaw, his claws carefully sheathed. "Who is this little lad then, ma'am?"

The cat accepted a friendly tickle under the chin with exquisite grace and purred endearingly in response. He even rolled over onto his back, inviting Argus to rub his belly and chest; Brian-as-cat minded his manners and did not offer to claw or bite at all. Ron and Harry realized that they had seen this cat before and that was somehow comforting.

"I acquired a kitten last summer, Mr. Filch, from a dear friend in Edinburgh," said Minerva, a touch of maternal pride creeping into her tone. "He comes and goes as he pleases throughout the castle, though I do wish his mischief could be curtailed just a wee bit sometimes." McGonagall noted that Albus carefully swallowed a big teasing grin, continuing his analysis of the inert Mrs. Norris; she felt a warm ripple of his magical signature against hers.

Brian-as-cat meowed once more, licked the fur of his right shoulder to tidy it, this time with another pleasant chirrup and then he hopped up on the desk to sniff the downy body that lay there. Another purr began deep in his chest and even Albus chuckled when the cat gingerly licked Mrs. Norris' forehead several times, almost as if he wished to give her an awakening kiss.

"See Argus? Many of our castle dwellers are sympathetic to your cause," he said, his eyes twinkling as he included Harry, Ron and Hermione in his reassuring gaze. "Right. Madame Sprout has acquired a new batch of mandrakes this term and is tending to them with her student assistants so that they may mature properly and…"

"Excellent! A Mandrake Restorative Potion is just the thing we need! I will make it straightaway!" exclaimed Gilderoy, rudely interrupting Dumbledore. "I can prepare that one in my sleep and have done so many a time. In fact, three years ago whilst I was in Bor…"

Snape, who had been absolutely silent (and frankly Gothic statuesque, skulking about over there in the shadows), interrupted his newest faculty colleague. "Excuse me. I shall be the one to prepare it as I am the Potions Master at our school, Professor Lockhart."

Hermione actually flinched at the Arctic frostiness (and rightness) of Snape's comment. She was seriously re-thinking her "up on a pedestal" placement of Lockhart.

There was an awkward pause in the room.

Gilderoy had the decency to blush with shame as he realized that he'd crossed an important professional boundary. "Of, of, of course, Professor Snape. Quite right and I do apologize. If you should need my assistance, you need only ask. Indeed I…"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Thank you, gentlemen," he said quietly in a tone that brooked no further discussion of the matter and including Snape and Lockhart in his admonishing look. He turned and studied the three Gryffindor second-years who all seemed as if they'd like to disappear under and through the hardwood floors as Peeves the castle poltergeist so often did. Albus reached a decision and nodded.

"You may go," the Headmaster told them and they didn't need to be invited twice, hastening to scramble to their feet and politely take their leave.

Minerva took the cue and addressed Brian-as-cat. "I will meet you at my office within fifteen minutes, if you please, Mr. Tux. We thank you for your assistance."

Brian-as-cat meowed in reply, accepted one more friendly pat from a much calmer Argus Filch, and then darted out the DADA classroom door with Ron, Harry and Hermione, strutting with his tail high in the air.

-/-/-/-/-/-

Professor McGonagall rounded the last corner, just down the corridor from her first floor Transfiguration classroom and office and she couldn't help smiling broadly. Immediately in front of the locked door, Brian-as-cat was energetically twirling on the stone floor, trying to catch his enticing black tail. His ears pricked forward and his bright blue eyes fairly blazed with naughtiness.

She recalled her own Animagus training with Albus, begun in the summer just prior to her sixth year at Hogwarts and she shook her head fondly at her son's antics. It had been a real challenge once she had mastered the complete Transformation to subdue the very strong natural instincts of her feline form. A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she thought: and this lad has two forms to deal with!

A light pop sounded and she transformed into the familiar brown and gray tabby cat, with black spectacle markings around the eyes, intending to join in the fun. Occupied as he was with playing, Brian-as-cat was startled by her presence and immediately arched his back, hissing and standing sideways as his fur bristled at the perceived threat. Another heartbeat and he realized who she was; at once he rolled over onto his back, submissively exposing his throat and belly, all the while purring his profuse apologies for his aggressive behavior.

Minerva-as-cat meowed softly in reply, coming closer to lick his face and paws. She even held him down with one firm forepaw and proceeded to clean his neck gently, smoothing down the shiny black and white fur. He sighed, purring and he closed his eyes. If anyone had come upon the scene just then, they would have imagined a loving mother cat caring for her nearly full-grown kitten, and they would not have been far from the truth.

With one more bump and neck rub with her forehead, the Transfiguration Mistress stepped back and resumed her human form. She smiled down at the youngster who was still purring with his eyes closed, a picture of utter feline contentment as he rested on his back. His tail and fur had smoothed down to more or less normal size.

"It's late, young one," she said. "But I think I will call Topher for a quick, bedtime hot cocoa if you would like to join me." Minerva waited for Brian to transform but had to laugh when he opened his eyes and pointedly reached his front paws up and around her ankle. Even in his cat form, Brian had long arms and legs.

"So that's how it is, aye? As you wish, then," she replied, allowing her Scottish accent to thicken, leaning down to pick him up and tucking him gently into the crook of her left arm. She tickled underneath his chin with one finger, chuckling as she touched the heavy wooden door to unlock it with a non-Verbal spell.

"Silly wee Tux," Minerva said, kissing the back of his ear before letting him back down to run ahead of her. "Topher!"

In an instant, her House-elf was there, smiling up at her from about knee height. "How may I serve, Professor?" The wizened old elf saw Brian-as-cat racing around on top of the classroom furniture and his smile grew wider. He nodded his approval.

"Hot cocoa for two please," Minerva continued, removing her pointed green hat and Levitating it to a nearby coat tree. Drawing her wand from an inner pocket of her tartan robes, she closed, locked and warded the door, ensuring their privacy. A few more steps and she entered the smaller of her two offices; over the years, she had grown to prefer the one adjacent to the Transfiguration classroom over the larger but drafty, Deputy Headmistress' office upstairs.

She sat in one of the over-stuffed armchairs and Brian-as-cat jumped into her lap, looking rather pleased as he kneaded the tops of her thighs with careful, light touches. As he leapt to the other chair, a silver tray appeared on the antique round table between them.

"Brian," she said patiently, crossing one leg over a knee and smoothing down the green tartan of her robe.

Instantly he Transformed back to his human self. "Yes, ma'am?" He grinned broadly and stood up to stretch and run his fingers through his hair, thoroughly mussing it; she marveled at how long his arms and legs had grown.

"Would you like a hot chocolate?" Minerva offered. "I'd like a word as well."

Brian smiled and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Sounds wonderful Mom, thank you." He sat and took one of the small mugs, warming both hands and waiting as he watched her blow carefully across the steaming chocolate and milk (mostly frothy, warm milk since that was how Topher and Breaklin usually prepared it for them this late at night).

"That was a very kind thing you did for Mr. Filch, visiting him like that. He was taking things pretty hard," she began. "Though I worry that you will be seen if you are not careful."

Brian shook his head. "I know and I am as careful as can be, Mom." He paused to wipe cocoa and milk foam from his lip with the back of his hand and she automatically smirked and Levitated one of the cloth napkins from the tray. Inwardly, she had to chuckle and shake her head: he is so very like his father.

Rollins grinned, plucking the napkin from mid-air and he shrugged one shoulder as he wiped his mouth and then draped the napkin over his lap. "Yes, ma'am," he said and then his expression sobered. "As soon as I saw Mrs. Norris hanging on the light thing, I ducked back to the boys' bathroom and Transformed in the first stall. I read the wall like everybody else did—not really thinking about what it said, just knowing something was totally not cool—and I knew he'd be gutted about her if she was…"

Minerva sighed. "You have a kind heart, honey, truly you do. I just want you to be exceedingly cautious with your Transfigurations—either of them, mind you and not put yourself at risk of a magical accident."

Brian nodded; it was not the first time she had mentioned the risks and he accepted the fact that as his mother, she would keep on reminding him throughout his life.

"Filchy really was picked on a lot at school, wasn't he? As a student I mean. I don't know what a Squib is but that's what Mrs. Norris has told me in some of her stories, many times actually."

"It's not a terribly nice term, but it means someone who cannot do magic although they were born into a magical family," she explained, raising her eyebrows when he flinched sympathetically.

"Ouch."

"Indeed," continued Minerva, taking a sip from her cocoa. "You're right though, Argus never finished school but stayed on as the castle caretaker. He must have had some connections through his father and his House."

"Slytherin."

Minerva made a soft noise of assent, looking at her son over the rims of her glasses. "You're too smart for your own britches, laddie."

Brian finished his cocoa and set the empty mug back on the tray. He tried and failed to stifle a yawn into his forearm, smiling and blinking sleepily at her.

Minerva tutted softly. "It's late but tomorrow is Sunday, thankfully. Anything going on besides your homework?"

Rollins stood, laughing good-naturedly at the reminders. "Neville will see to the greenhouses early, but yes, homework and notes are the main plan of the day. Dad working late tonight as usual?"

Minerva placed her empty cocoa mug on the tray beside his and stood, looking up at her tall and strapping son with a warm gaze. She stepped closer and ran her hands up and down his arms. "Yes, he is probably reviewing the Restorative Draught with Severus. Your father took a Mastery in Potions as well as Charms and Transfiguration but he will leave the dragon's share of the brewing to Severus."

"I remember you both told me." Brian yawned again and Minerva reached up to hold his face in her hands. He leaned down to kiss her cheek.

"Teeth and bed straight away, laddie," she told him though her eyes were smiling. She turned and waved a hand toward the desk. "Hang on, you will need a hall pass to get back to Gryffindor Tower… in your human form, Mr. Rollins." The top drawer slid open and a pre-signed square moved to her hand.

Brian grinned sheepishly, taking the small slip of parchment. "Yes, ma'am. Good night, Mom. Love you."

"Sweet dreams, Brian," she replied. "Love you too."

TBC

A/N: Happy Spring break from sunny/polleny Florida!