Chapter 4
Rebecca woke from the darkness, sitting on the floor of a big, nearly dark room. Looking up, she saw the face of a grandfatherly figure in long robes. The eyes were pale blue. His gray hair was nearly as long as his elbow length beard. He smiled at her, and although her hands were tied, she wasn't afraid. There was nothing threatening in his face. He let out a long sigh, as if assured she was well, and stood over Phileas. He was just coming to consciousness, too. In proper Phileas form, he didn't take the old man's goodwill at face value. Being tied up was all that registered.
"Who are you?" he said to the man in robes.
"I think the real question is who you are and how you came to be here," the old man said. "But to answer your question, I am Marcus Gryffindor."
"And I am Bernard Malfoy," another, less friendly voice said, coming out of the darkness behind Mr. Gryffindor.
A light from a single lamp on a table in the middle of the room glowed into being, brightening the room. Very little could be seen, other than the two men standing over them. "You people trespassed on our property. Now, who are you and how did you get here?"
"I am Phileas Fogg, and this is my cousin, Rebecca Fogg," Phileas said. "We fell into the street from the roof of my building. We were looking for a way back."
"Ah, the man who bought the cobbler's shop," Marcus said. "That roof you fell from is across an alley and behind the secondhand robe shop from Diagon Alley. Since the gate in the back of the robe shop is locked, I think you leave something out of the story," Marcus said.
He turned to Gryffindor. "I told you the masking spell over the street was fading. We had a chimney sweep wander in yesterday, and now these two."
"Yes, yes," Marcus agreed. "It seems we need to increase our security."
At the mention of another, Rebecca looked about and noticed a boy sitting on the other side of the room in the shadows. He couldn't be much older than ten. He wore the clothing of his profession and was covered in soot. The child wasn't tied as they were but was being held in a chair by the hand of an elderly lady in long robes such as the men wore.
The boy looked frightened. He looked at the lady and addressed her. "You said I was goin' home today, lady. Will it be soon?"
"That is to be decided," the lady said. She gave him a smile to reassure him, but said nothing more to him.
"Gentlemen," she called to the men arguing over the invasions. "We must decide what to do about these people. I say send the boy back home after administering a memory potion. The muggles will think he injured himself in a fall and nothing further will be said. If he does, in time, remember anything, he is young enough to think it a child's fantasy. He can do us no harm."
"I agree with that," Mr. Gryffindor said. "Jason Brown is no threat."
Mr. Malfoy looked as if he wanted to argue, but nodded, dismissing the child. "And these two," he said, pointing to the Foggs. "They are a different matter. Memory potions don't work for adults as well. You would have to erase their minds to assure they recall nothing. Do you really want to send them back home mindless idiots? The protocol was set years ago. I say they meet the proscribed penalty and be grateful they may live. In the old days, their fate would be far worse."
Phileas said, "Excuse me, but what are you talking about? I've seen enough to understand your wish to remain separate from the city. I give you my word as a gentleman; we will say nothing once we leave here."
"Kind of you, sir," Mr. Malfoy said, "but far too little. If you have seen enough to come to any conclusions, you are dangerous. The law is the law, Gryffindor. They must be dealt with."
"As you say, as you say," Marcus agreed. "Edith, take Jason. Get his address before you administer the potion and have him taken home."
Edith urged the boy out with a smile. Jason Brown took one last look at the Foggs and headed for the door.
Once the child was gone, Marcus advanced on Phileas and Rebecca. "I am sorry about this," he said, "but as Bernard says, the law is the law." He took a slender stick out of his sleeve, held it aloft, and whispered three words. "Transformium, Dose, Felinium."
From Rebecca's point of view, nothing happened. She felt an odd sensation of dizziness for a moment, but it went away quickly. There seemed to be a slight shift in perspective, as if she had settled lower on the floor, but she felt no different from a moment ago.
"And, exactly what does that mean?" She heard Phileas say.
Turning to her cousin, Rebecca nearly screamed. In his place was a sleek black cat with white feet and a splash of white at the throat where a cravat would be. In the next second, her bindings were gone. Rebecca looked down and saw the ropes lying on the floor under…
She screamed, horrified.
Her legs and clothing were gone. All of what was once her was gone. All she saw was white cat's feet.
Marcus lifted Rebecca from the ground and held her under the arms, high in front of him. "Calm yourself, miss. There is no need to alarm yourself. Yes, you are now a blue-eyed cat rather than a woman, but still rather pretty, if I may say so. The body is different and may take some getting used to, but you are the same spirit you have always been. You will live the rest of your life with a nice family here in London and be well cared for."
Bernard grabbed Phileas by the scruff of the neck and held him aloft. "A life of about seven or eight years, if lucky," he said in Phileas's face. "Then you are out of our hair for good."
The two wizards took the newly transformed cats to a cage. Once locked in, they were turned over to Edith. She took them out of the Spell Caster's Hall for a long walk down the long, dark streets. Arriving at her destination, she used a key to open a shop door. She set their cage on top of another and left without a backward glance.
Rebecca and Phileas looked at each other, and then at their surroundings. Covered birdcages, caged rats, a tank of toads, and several other caged cats showed in the dim light coming from the large front shop window.
"Well, curiosity didn't kill the cat, but it certainly turned you into one," Rebecca said. "You and me. What do you propose to do now?"
Phileas looked at his cousin with ears at half-mast, afraid and angry at the whole situation. He walked away from her to the front end of the cage. "I propose we get out of this cage as soon as possible. Then we get set back to normal."
"Getting out could be the easiest of those tasks," Rebecca said. "Getting changed back may be impossible. Cats don't have fingers to work a wand. Do you remember the magic words he used? Even if we know them, we don't know if the magic is in the wand or in the person wielding it."
"It's in the person." A deep voice said, adding to their conversation from the other side of the room.
"Who is there?" Phileas said. "You, show yourself."
"I am here," the baritone said louder. "Yes, here—in the toad tank."
On the other side of the shop, a huge bullfrog stood on his hind legs against the glass of his tank. "Make no complaints to me about being a cat," he said. "You are n't eating flies."
"Who are you?" Rebecca said. She wasn't using a voice really, cat or human. In her head, Rebecca heard her words and everyone else's as English. What came out of her mouth was, sort of, quiet mewing. "Why are you here?"
"I was Lawrence Tolliver. I was an estate lawyer for the City of London. I devised a way to get a large block of vacant buildings out of an old trust so they could be useful again. I didn't know the buildings were part of the barrier to this district of magic. The trust lawyers warned me repeatedly not to interfere with it, but I ignored them. After my victory dinner, one of them came to me on the street and did this to me."
The frog/man broke down at that point and started crying. "I have been here for over a week. Children come in day after day to pick out pets. Only the shop owner has heard me speak… until you. Mrs. Pool only pats my head and tells me to calm down and eat."
"No one but the shop owner understands you?" Phileas said. "Not any of the people who come here?"
"No," the bullfrog said through a croak. "Mrs. Pool says understanding animal language is a special gift. Only people born with such talents can do it. Cats go quickly here. You will be gone in a day or two, and I will still be here, unless some child picks me. I didn't want to be chosen at first, but now, I would gladly be a pet frog to get out of this tank." The bullfrog dropped off the glass and crawled to a corner, sobbing.
Rebecca turned away, uncomfortable. "The poor man."
"That poor man will be poor us if we don't get out of here," Phileas snapped. "At the first chance, we should hit the floor running. I don't know about you, but I would rather not be a pet for some little wizard in waiting. Once we are free, we can scout for a way to get back to normal. There must be something!"
Rebecca settled on her stomach and laid her head down on her arms, now front paws. "It is nearly one in the morning, Phileas. The shop owner won't be back for hours. Let's get some rest."
Phileas settled down beside her in the cage, looking out over the shop.
"I am sorry."
"You didn't know any of this would happen," Rebecca said. "Don't worry; I am sure we will get out of this like all our other adventures."
Phileas said, "Those other times we weren't cats in a cage."
He could have bitten his tongue off after saying those words. Rebecca had voiced the positive, and all he could do was toss cold water. He closed his eyes to shut out the mess they were in. A moment later, he felt pressure on one of his front feet. When he opened his eyes, Rebecca's paw lay over his.
"It is all right," she whispered. "I'm scared, too." She snuggled closer to him.