"So was this a case of self-transfiguration?"
Dumbledore nodded, regarding the rat sitting on the workbench between
them. Back at the School early, Professors McGonogall, Sprout and Snape had
come to aid him in an attempt to help Willow's childhood friend.
"Apparently, she and the Slayer were about to be burned at the stake by a
demon-controlled rabble of muggles and she escaped by transfiguring herself
into this form. However, none of her friends were advanced enough to
transfigure her back."
McGonogall bent to regard the rat curiously. "I suppose we could attempt
to transfigure her into human form," She suggested, raising her eyes to the
Headmaster. "Although you know the risks that are carried by that."
"What about using mandrakes?" The eldest professor present asked quietly,
looking up at Sprout and Snape. "Would they work on self-transfigurations
that have been in place as long as this one?"
Sprout scratched her uncontrolled, flyaway mass of dirt-tangled hair,
wrinkling her brow in thought. "They probably would work, but it would have
to be a very mature mandrake because of how long she has been like this."
"How long has she been in this form?" Snape asked.
Dumbledore replied. "Over a year. Willow, that is Sarah Weasley, has
attempted to turn her back previously, but she was simply not advanced
enough."
"If there is an available mandrake that is mature enough," The Potions
Master glanced at the Herbology Mistress, who nodded once. "The sooner we
can have the potion ready, the better it will be for her."
Sprout frowned. "You know, the little sod isn't going to be amused if I
dig him up now." She remarked dryly. "He thought he was going to get away
with being left for four years in the corner of the potting shed."
"You can control him?"
Professor Sprout snorted, straightening her mud-stained robes as if she
had been offended by the Transfiguration Mistress. "Minerva, there is no
plant in the potting sheds that I can't handle." There was a pause.
"Although, I'm not sure how I'm going to get him to let go of his zimmer
frame..."
"An old-aged mandrake with a zimmer frame..." McGonogall almost smiled at
the image that conjured up. "Somehow, that shouldn't surprise me."
Sprout scowled. "If he had the chance, he would chase younger mandrakes
off his lawn." She sighed heavily. "He is getting rather out of hand, I'll
admit. Maybe picking him will teach him to behave better."
"Rather you than I, my dear." Dumbledore chuckled softly. "When will you
be able to do so?"
"Give me half an hour to get warmed up and I should have him by tomorrow
morning."
"Severus, how long will it take you to make the potion?"
The Potions Master rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It would take a day at
most, unless we simmer it for longer for more mature potency." He cast a
glance at Sprout. "Considering the age of the mandrake in question, it may
be wiser to simmer it for a full twenty four hours."
"So a pair or trio of days, depending on how long it takes to tame this
wild mandrake?" There was an unmistakeable twinkle in the Headmaster's blue
eyes. "I'm sure that a few more hours won't make much difference to our
rodent companion."
Snape and Sprout nodded, both turning and hurrying out of Dumbledore's
round office at the top of the tower, leaving the Headmaster and Professor
McGonogall regarding the large rat sitting on the desktop.
"Would she have had the potential to be one of ours, Albus?"
Blue eyes looked at her over gleaming, half-moon spectacles. "There is
always a possibility of that, Minerva." He replied quietly. "Willow told me
that Amy, this rather fetching rat, had a witch for a mother."
"Did she mention what her surname was?" Taking the seat across the desk,
McGonogall watched as Dumbledore gently lifted the rat back into the large
cage that was positioned on the floor beside his seat.
His silver beard rippling as he nodded, Dumbledore replied. "Madison, if
I recall correctly."
McGonogall's brow wrinkled in thought. "I don't recall that we ever had
any Madisons attending the school..." She remarked thoughtfully. "And you
did say that Willow's adopted mother was called Sheila?"
"That's correct."
"Well, what if she was young Sheila? The sister?"
Dumbledore nodded. "I had thought about that possibility, but Willow
claimed her 'mother' knew nothing of magic."
The Transfiguration Professor snorted. "And Sheila did?"
"She knew...certain things."
"Dark magic, Albus. It's not the same."
"I am aware of that, Minerva," He replied patiently. "But I am certain
that Sheila Rosenberg was merely an innocent person who was unfortunately
dragged into the plan for the concealment of Willow from us and the
ministry."
"Yes, Albus..." McGonogall got to her feet. "I suppose I should return to
my offices now. I have some work I must get done, before we see who young
Amy really is."
"Good night, Minerva."
"Good night, Albus."
"One drop should suffice."
"How long will it take to work?"
Snape pursed his lips in thought. "Give it five minutes at the most. If
we're lucky, it should work instantaneously."
Dumbledore nodded, bending and lifting the rat from the cage. They had
transferred her to the medical wing for the dosing of the potion and, if it
worked, for her comfort when she turned back into a human.
"When you are ready, Severus."
With a dropper, the Potions Master collected some of the potion and
turned his attention to the rat that was held - strangely placid - in the
Headmaster's hands.
Deftly, he managed to capture the small head gently between forefinger
and thumb and squeezed the dropper into the rodent's mouth. "I would
suggest you put her down before she changes back, Headmaster."
Before Dumbledore could move to do so, though, the rodent leapt from his
hands and towards the bed. The rat landed on the bed beside them, bounced
slightly, then started to writhe and squeak.
"It's working." Snape breathed.
A glow flared out around the rat's form and both men quickly shielded
their eyes with their forearms. Only when a shaking voice spoke, did they
lower their arms.
"Wh-what happened?"
Sitting on the bed, her knees pulled up against her chest, her hair
matted and tangled around her face, a young woman - probably about nineteen
years of age - was staring around the room around her, shivering.
Dumbledore moved first, draping a blanket around the naked girl, to
shield her modesty, before giving her a reassuring smile. "You've been a
rat for almost a year and a half, Miss Madison. Your friend, Willow, asked
us to help."
Brown eyes stared up at him suspiciously, full of fear. "Who are you?" She
demanded unsteadily, her hands gripping the edges of her blanket tight
around her body. "Where's Willow? Where am I?"
"You're at a Wizarding School in England, Miss Madison. I'm Professor
Dumbledore, the Headmaster." Dumbledore sat down on the end of the bed.
"You will be able to see Willow as soon as you've recovered. You have just
been through a frightful ordeal."
The girl nodded uncertainly. "Wh-why did you help me?"
"Because we could, my dear." Patting one of her hands gently, Dumbledore
got to his feet and smiled down at her. "I'll leave you in the capable
hands of Madam Pomfrey. She'll get you back on your feet, won't you,
Poppy?"
In response, the school matron promptly bustled both of the teachers out
of the Medical Wing and closed the door behind them with a firm 'click'.
Professor Dumbledore turned to Snape. "You've been strangely quiet in
spite of the success of your potion, Severus."
"You didn't recognise her, did you?"
"Miss Madison?" Snape nodded grimly. "Should I have?"
The Potions Master's expression was strained. "You do remember the Wizard
who stole the youngest Weasley from her crib?" Dumbledore nodded, uncertain
where Snape was leading. "And you recall his sister?"
"Of course."
"Do you remember the sister's face?"
Dumbledore's eyes widened. "Surely not..."
"She's the double of her, Headmaster." Pacing back and forth across the
hall, Snape swung around to face the Headmaster, his face drawn. "If I'm to
make an assumption, I would say that she is Sheila Pettigrew's daughter."
"Strange as it does seem, it would certainly explain why she had such an
affinity for rats, when performing transfiguration on others and herself.
It seems it was a family trade-mark." He fingered his beard, pensively.
"And the name Madison..."
"Could be a pseudonym." Snape finished. "They were both darksiders,
Headmaster, so a little name-changing would hardly be considered a serious
crime compared to some of the other things they did."
Dumbledore motioned for Snape to walk with him, both of them making their
way through the darkened corridors of the building. They walked in silence
to the gargoyle that led to the Headmaster's office.
"Humbug."
The gargoyle swung aside and the two teachers stepped onto the moving
staircase.
By the time they entered the office, candles were burning and a fire was
crackling in the chilly hearth, the house elves having raced up as soon as
they had spotted Professor Dumbledore on his way.
"Headmaster..." Snape began falteringly. Rounding his large desk to sit
down, Dumbledore nodded, gesturing for Snape to sit as well. "If
Pettigrew's niece has been found, what happened to her mother? Is she still
at large?"
Dumbledore couldn't help chuckling. "Well, I would say she is
more...er...at small."
"Pardon?"
"Apparently, Sheila - or Catherine as she was known - attended normal,
American High Schools after her expulsion from this school for using the
dark arts." The Headmaster explained. Willow had told him of all her
witching encounters, including those with 'Mrs Madison'. "She became fairly
famous as a cheerleader."
"A what?"
"The Americans seem to like to have professional cheer-leading girls to
support their sports teams. Even in high schools, they encourage young
women to don skimpy costumes and dance in strange routines which
apparently...er...spur their team to victory."
Snape couldn't muffle a snigger. "What on earth will they think of next?
And Pettigrew was one of these...cheerers?"
"A very good one, judging by the awards she won. Alas, she wanted Amy to
follow in her footsteps and when she proved incapable, Pettigrew resorted
to the dark arts again and stole her daughter's body."
"I'm not surprised at that. She always was a rather selfish child."
"She did succeed, but she attempted to literally wipe out the
competition. Fortunately for everyone, one of them was the Slayer and -
with help - they defeated Sheila somehow and she was somehow transfigured
into one of her trophies."
Snape raised a brow. "As you can see, I am distraught."
"Obviously." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling. "Something tells me that
it is an odd kind of poetic justice."
"So we're not about to run to the poor witch's rescue?"
Dumbledore exaggerated a heavy sigh. "But Severus, I just got back and I
am frightfully tired…"
The Potions Master chuckled. "So that would be a no."
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