Work Text:
Minerva McGonagall sighs with pleasure, having closed her door and left behind it all the hubbub: the celebration of James Potter as a hero. I've kindled a fire and fluffed the cushions on the couch and the hearthrug, making her private rooms warm and cosy, a haven in the drafty castle gripped by an unrelenting February chill.
Instead of bothering to remove her proper professor's outfit, she swiftly shifts shape.
Nobody but a house-elf ever gets a chance to observe her as the cat except briefly. Inconspicuous in the shadows, I watch her stretch the nimble limbs and curl up.
Poppy Pomfrey enters exactly when I'm pulling aside the tartan bedspread and uncovering the fresh silk sheets. From the bedchamber I can hear the purring disrupted and replaced by an anxious voice.
"You look exhausted. Worried! What is it? I heard your patients were recovering well."
"There's only one. Severus Snape was saved in time. The Willow didn't hurt him."
"Only Remus Lupin. Poor boy, he's been ill and had accidents so often. I once thought his absences from classes followed a suspicious pattern, but..."
"Come and lie down with me. I can get some sleep before returning to him."
Since Poppy's left the young werewolf in an elf assistant's care, I may be of help.
Making a less loud pop than those used for signalling our arrival to humans, I manage not to startle the patient. He keeps his eyes closed until I touch his pale brow.
"Elf..." His hoarse voice conveys relief. "Don't let any friends –" He corrects himself, "Visitors in."
A cousin, Droppy by his amusing alias, appears beside me. "Madam Pomfrey says Mr Lupin can see those three Gryffindors who've known... Surely Mr Lupin wants the one who sometimes sleeps with him. Mr Black?"
"No!"
When Droppy's soothing magic has helped the poor little werewolf fall asleep, I get a chance to ask about his injuries. "The half-healed wounds across his beautiful face...?"
"That's where Pomfrey used the most powerful spells, allowing me to help. To prevent permanent scarring."
"There's no aura of willow around them. They look like gashes made by claws."
"You're right. And these bandages on his hands and arms hide bite wounds, similar to those he used to afflict on himself before his friends became Animagi."
"Dumbledore's hiding the truth."
"Once again. He wants his beastology friends' secret experiment to continue."
"There was a fat rat in the hospital wing," Poppy offers as news in a scandalised tone when laying her head in Minerva's lap, not realising herself she's barely skirting the confidential issues. "When I described it, Argus said it must be a pet, not a mundane rat but a normal one – normal in the meaning of magical, he clarified."
"Poor Argus admires magic, feels inferior... Wait! Perhaps it was the same rat those troublemakers sicced on me before Christmas."
It's amazing how a human – even an expert like Minerva – can fail to see a creature's essence.
Intruding secretly on the couple's intimate moments, I may hear if Poppy will break her promise to Albus.
When allowing Poppy to help with loosening her tight chignon, the responsible Head of House brings up her most problematic Gryffindors.
"Those three – the brilliant pair and the tag-along – aren't themselves this week. A break from their pranks is welcome. But Black... The others shun him! Disowned by his parents, he needs Potter as his brother. I've told them he's served his detentions and should be forgiven for tricking two gullible boys into approaching a dangerous tree. Do they visit Lupin together?
"He agreed only today that Potter and Pettigrew may..."
"Not Black? It's my duty to reconcile them all with him, but... There's something important that hasn't been shared with me."
Poppy doesn't deny this. Her capable hands stroke Minerva's dark tresses, sliding down to massage the tense shoulders.
She confides in Droppy while they're mixing ointments for the werewolf's hands (and my magic's polishing the windowpanes).
"Hiding what Lupin is has already been a strain on my... on all my relationships. That, besides Albus, I must be the only one – the only human – at Hogwarts who knows. Now Black's terrible misstep, and how the secret's been revealed to the werewolf's three friends and the Slytherin who almost got bitten... Perhaps... if Lupin himself wants his Head of House to know... Albus hasn't sworn you to secrecy?"
"No. And Droppy serves the school, its students, not him."
We serve the school, and we always have each student's best interests at heart. I admit I've grown so fond of Minerva that I want to help her in her duties as well as in her bond with whom I hope can be the love of her life. Lupin may benefit from Minerva not being kept in the dark, but before I interfere by enlightening her, I'll listen to how he replies to Poppy.
"I've never told anyone."
That's true. His friends figured it out by themselves.
"I can't stop a house-elf from... But this secret now... is also Snape's."
When his cauldron rolls away along the corridor, Severus Snape must assume that his House mates are to blame. Although they also try to profit from his ingenuity in Potions, the haughty purebloods are tempted to make cruel fun of him, particularly this week, after he's been the focus of attention as a victim tricked by, then saved by a Gryffindor.
Swearing under his breath, he strides in pursuit with such vigour that the faded old robes, handed down from his mother, billow after him impressively. There's no sign of the insecure teenager's bad posture.
By making the cauldron stop at Remus Lupin's feet, I've arranged an opportunity for the crucial conversation. The werewolf's face looks unblemished again, and only his left hand's bandaged, but he's got such a limp that he'd otherwise never catch up with Snape on his way from the hospital wing to his dormitory.
"Listen," he hurries to say, not expecting Snape to look at him. "If you think Dumbledore's wrong to hide the truth, maybe you don't mind a house-elf telling McGonagall."
"Your Head of House? Not mine? Nobody! Bloody Dumbledore needs it all to remain a secret. Let him believe we're grateful and loyal."
Lupin was probably surprised by Snape replying, even talking about the two of them as "we". He needs some time to think. When, breathless, he reaches the entrance to his Common Room, and finds me waiting, he knows I'm there not only to disclose the current password.
He shakes his head. "I'm sorry. Pomfrey's wish... is not mine. I understand she wouldn't like to keep secrets from her... from McGonagall. Dumbledore's..." There's resentment behind his measured words. "His determination to prevent exposure forces me to be grateful for what's in his interest. Again. I want no more assistance from anyone."
My dear Minerva, her dear Poppy, and I, we share the excitement and joy of benevolent espionage, and breathe in the promise of spring as we're approaching the edge of the woods. Soon, having risen effortlessly onto the old wych-elm's branches, which glisten in glorious sunshine, I witness how the three young, illegal shapeshifters take their four-legged forms.
They certainly take risks. The cat climbs up to join me for a better view only a bit late.
In a moment she changes into the agile enough witch and, laughing, leaps down into Poppy's arms.
"You're no longer too much worried about your most troublesome Gryffindors?" Poppy asks hopefully.
"I've just lost their trail and they've entered the Forbidden Forest. But no. They are themselves again, perhaps less troublesome, too, now that Lily Evans has joined them."
"Perhaps she managed to help them restore all their mutual friendships, and that's why they didn't need any adult's mediation, after all." Poppy pulls gently at a lock that's escaped from Minerva's bun.
"And you don't need to worry when you have to keep secrets from me. You'll always have to, of course." After grabbing Poppy's hand so as to press a kiss on the palm, Minerva plays one of her rare feline tricks: suddenly attacks the wrist with her teeth. "To maintain patient confidentiality."