Wisdom

Chapter Four

The Return to Muggleswick

A week later, Minerva had decided that the Order of the Phoenix involved a lot of waiting. The Animagus transformation, finally completed, made her feel as if she wanted to be doing something with it. Prowling the tops of buildings and drinking saucers of cream was all very well, of course, in its own way, but the Morsdrodars continued their reign of terror, and she detested feeling useless.

Dumbledore had talked to her the morning after the transformation, informing her that she would soon begin her work as a spy. First, however, they needed to make some necessary arrangements--registering her with the Ministry as an Animagus and a spy, so that, in the event of a raid, she would be treated gently; instructing her on how to pose with her partner-Auror; and trying to find a recording spell that would transfer during her change of form. They had made little progress on the latter. Carl was experimenting with a few potions, but nothing had yielded any results. Until that was complete, nothing else could be done.

She was restless, that was the problem. She still researched in the library; the reading still interested her, but it seemed to have lost its purpose. Order members were undercover, spying, putting themselves in danger -- and she was reading If Quills Could Talk: A History of Dictaquills and Play It Again: Recording Spells over Time.

All in all, Minerva was glad of a diversion when she returned home in an April shower to find a letter waiting. She didn´t recognize the owl -- an ordinary barn owl with gray markings, found at any post office -- but the envelope was cheap Muggle paper rather than parchment. It was from her father.

"Silvia´s Muggle man" had always been quite popular in the wizarding world. After she died, her name gave him a certain status. Tom, the young barkeeper at the Leaky Cauldron, let Ewan have a drink when he visited London; Jon, who worked in Hypurb Alley, Glasgow, did the same. He rarely visited the wizarding world, although the entrance to Hypurb Alley was quite close -- the memory of his lovely wife, and her untimely demise, kept him away. However, letters to Minerva were always sent from the Glasgow Owl Post office.

Dear Minerva, the letter read,

Thank you for the Christmas presents -- they´re coming in pretty handy. Hope all is well in London. I worry about you, my girl, with all the bombs.

I´m writing because Whitby Burns is to be rented at last. You know that when we moved to Glasgow, I never sold the Muggleswick place. Well, there´s no reason for me to keep it anymore. A lovely young couple from London is going to rent it -- I can´t tell if they´re of your sort or not.

There are a few loose odds and ends lying about downstairs, which I´ll have the cleaning woman take care of. The attic is still filled with boxes, though, and I was wondering if you could come up and help me by cleaning them out. I can´t do much lifting anymore, as my back´s gone bad, and you would know more of what to do with your mother´s things anyway. Any time you want to come is fine. I assume you can unlock the door, and I´m sure you can still recognize the place.

Take care of yourself!

Your loving Dad

Minerva threw some Firetalk Powder into the fireplace and stuck her head in, yelling, "Arabella Figg!"

Arabella emerged from her bedroom and into Minerva´s line of vision. "Yes, Min? Here, have a macaroon, I just made some."

"No thanks, I just ate. Arabella, would you like to see Muggleswick?"

Arabella laughed. "I love that name, you know. When are you going?"

"Tomorrow? Maybe we´ll wait until Saturday, though. Is David home yet? I need to ask him something about Dictaquills."

"Home? Minerva, dear, it´s only six-thirty," Arabella scoffed. "He´s a newspaperman. The Prophet goes to press at eight o´clock -- he would be home by nine, but he has to cover a Ministry press conference."

Minerva nodded. "Well, let him know about this, too. I thought I´d ask Carl as well -- and Louise would love to see a place called `Muggles´wick. You wouldn´t have to help me work -- I´m cleaning out boxes -- but I thought we could take a picnic lunch, and afterwards the Bats-Cannons match is at Shiney Row, or you could all Apparate home."

"Right. I´ll see you on Saturday morning, then."

* * *

The next day brought beautiful weather. Minerva, David, Louise, Arabella, and Carl Ported to Edinburgh from Diagon Alley, then Apparated to Muggleswick

Whitby Burns was a small stone cottage that seemed to ramble out in all directions. Minerva had not seen it since she was very young, but the house had not changed much since the day, sixteen years ago, when her heartbroken father had taken himself and his two young children to Glasgow.

The window-boxes no longer overflowed with flowers, and the windows above them were dirty, but Minerva had the odd feeling that her former life was frozen inside, and that it would take only her hand on the doorknob to reawaken it; that if she opened the door, her mother would be there, her Ministry royal-blue robes and fireproof Potions apron now protecting her from food as she cooked dinner -- that at any moment, her father would enter, coming back from work -- that Benny would be a baby again, teething enthusiastically and playing with moving figurines of winged horses -- even that she would find her younger self in the backyard, skimming above the grass on a toy broomstick.

Shaking her head to clear it, Minerva cast Alohomora on the door and entered. The interior was dusty; a few Muggle appliances rusted inside. Resolving to clean it up before lunch, Minerva opened a door and ascended two flights of rickety stairs, then emerged through a creaky trapdoor into the attic.

It was mostly empty; the room had been cleaned out when they left. A neat stack of cardboard boxes stood in the corner, along with an old-fashioned Hogwarts trunk.

It was to the latter that Minerva headed, effortlessly casting Alohomora and lifting the lid open. Most of the things inside dated from long after her mother´s Hogwarts days. On the very top were bottles of potions, neatly labeled; books of potions recipes; notebooks filled with research. Beneath that were books on werewolves, lists of the uses of wolfsbane, even entire tomes on the plant itself. Minerva bundled the books into a box to give to Elspeth and placed the potions in a smaller bag for the Order. Carl had seized the research notebooks, flipping through pages of information on werewolves and recordings of potions -- all failures.

"Hmm... interesting. Subject nearly died due to overdose of wolfsbane. Will not be used in future... Potion had no effect whatsoever... Potion caused subject to change to werewolf form in moonlight, no matter the phase of the moon. They must have had a hard time undoing that one. Potion extended transformation. Now here´s a bizarre one: Negligent amounts of moly appeared to excite the wolf. No other side effects except spillage of potion transmitted any sounds subject heard. Long-distances -- through a potion -- David, tell me how Dictaquills work again, quick!"

"The feathers of the quill are charmed to transmit sounds around them onto paper."

"Could this charm be -- modified?" Carl asked, his voice rising with excitement.

"Sure -- in fact, it already has. Yellow Press came out with the Quick-Quotes-Quill a few years back -- marketed entirely to scandalmongers. The actual spell´s pretty versatile -- in fact, I think the QQQ uses a potion."

Carl grabbed Minerva´s arm and twirled her around. "Minerva, I think we´ve really got it this time! Your mum put us onto something! Dave, would you Apparate to the Prophet and get me as many Dictaquills as they can spare? I´m going to the Edinburgh potions center. We´ve got something here, we really have!" He spun her once more, then Apparated.

Minerva watched him go, her heart stuck somewhere between joy that Carl had an idea and dread that it would turn out, like the others, to be only a red herring. Shrugging and crossing her fingers for luck, she continued through the trunk.

A marriage certificate and two birth certificates -- Minerva Elizabeth McGonagall, Benjamin Angus McGonagall -- were next. Under them was a set of dress robes and a corsage, probably from the seventh-year graduation ball; then a set of schoolbooks and a velvet-bound green volume, a diary. Minerva opened it to find only blank pages -- presumably enchanted -- and set it aside. At the very bottom of the trunk was a crinkled parchment letter:

Dear Miss Gladstone,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...

"Oh, Minerva, look!" Arabella called, holding up a fat book covered with burgundy-colored leather. "Photos!"

Minerva grabbed at it eagerly. The pictures inside were color-charmed, starting with a small girl in Hogwarts robes boarding the Express -- playing Quidditch -- as a Ravenclaw prefect. Then photos of the wedding -- Silvia in long white robes, her cheeks flushing prettily beneath her chestnut hair; Ewan in an ordinary Muggle tuxedo, nodding bashfully. Then a radiant young woman with a baby, followed by snapshots of Minerva´s childhood. The last was of a smiling young girl pulling a baby boy by one hand -- Minerva with Benny, shortly before their mothers´ death.

Laying the album aside, Minerva went to help Louise, who was happily sorting through a box of Muggle odds and ends. Just then, David and Carl Apparated.

"We´ve done it, Minerva! We´ve done it!" Carl yelled, running over to her and brandishing a piece of paper.

David had Arabella in a tight hug, then danced her around the room. She laughed and disentangled herself. "Would it be too much, my dears, to ask exactly what all this is about?"

"We´ve found a way for you to spy," David said breathlessly. "Well -- I don´t understand all the mechanics, it was really Carl´s idea --"

"David started the whole thing," Carl said, waving a hand carelessly and knocking a wooden crate over. "Without his Dictaquill information --"

"You worked on the Prophet desk too, Carl, you know just as much about them -"

"Would you both quit being so damned modest and tell us what happened!" Arabella exclaimed.

"Well," Carl began, "the exact way this failed potion worked was that it didn´t stop the transformation to the wolf, or stop the wolf from harming people, so it didn´t fulfill its purpose. But it was better than many of the others -- it didn´t really hurt the wolf, either. As a matter of fact, it was pretty close to success, but no one seemed to be able to figure out where to go next. Anyway, other than the moly exciting the wolf, what this potion did was accidentally create the ability to transmit whatever the wolf was hearing over long distances, wherever the potion was spilled. We think it´s because there was a bit of Apollyn extract in there -- it´s the same stuff that´s used for Floo powder. Bizarre side affect, but stranger things have happened -- basically, it affected the wrong senses. We´ve decided that it needs wolfsbane, but first someone needs to find a way to change the wolfsbane so that it doesn´t harm the wolf, and I have no idea how that could be done."

Minerva nodded.

"We figured that we could put the potion on a Dictaquill at the headquarters. You´d drink the potion before -- we´ll run some tests to make sure it´s okay. Potions transfer with you to the form -- the painkilling potion did, right? -- and as long as you don´t stay longer than 24 hours, it should be fine."

Minerva gaped. "Carl! That makes sense!"

"Finally," said Arabella, "we can get some work done!"

There was an official meeting at Hogwarts a few days later to discuss it with Dumbledore. "Excellent work, Mr. Whittaker," he said. "When will it be complete?"

"Well, we thought we´d have to set up several quills, just in case," Carl answered. "It´s not completely reliable, of course. Based on her records -- luckily, she left very clear ones -- it took Silvia about two months to brew that potion. With modern methods, it should take three weeks or so. Then we´ll obtain and charm the parchment -- the whole thing should be ready within a month."

"Excellent. Cynthia Hemlock has run all the tests we needed on it -- it´s perfectly safe for normal human consumption, you´ll be fine. Sherbet lemon?"

Carl politely refused. "But this potion -- it just haunts me. Silvia was the greatest Potions genius in a century. If she´d taken it one step further -- if she´d experimented more with the wolfsbane --" He shook his head in frustration.

"After the war, Carl. After the war," Minerva murmured.

"Right. Well, I must be going, Professor -- the sooner we begin, the better."

"Good evening. I´ll be seeing you shortly." Dumbledore paused. "Keep your eyes and ears open. We´ve heard murmurings that Grindelwald is on the move."

"Right. ´Evening. Good night, Minerva." Carl twisted his Order ring and disappeared.

"Minerva, I think I´ll go ahead and give you all the information we have about the Morsdrodars. It´s not a lot, but it should help. I must insist, however, that you stay within Hogwarts to read it. You´re a competent young witch, but these are Dark forces beyond our imaginings. This information cannot fall into the wrong hands, or we are lost. I think the library will be the best place. But before you leave, I must insist that you take a sherbet lemon."

Minerva shrugged and accepted. As she left, it melting in her mouth, Dumbledore called, "Again -- your name, please."

"Minerva Elizabeth McGonagall." Minerva didn´t think before the words left her mouth -- and yet she hadn´t taken a truth potion...

Smiling at the puzzled look on her face, Dumbledore handed her a piece of chocolate. Enchanted cocoa was easier to obtain than the Muggle variety, but the chocolate racks at Honeydukes had looked rather sparse. "Veritasweet," he said with a smile. "The Kanes concocted them for me. Not very strong, and easily overcome, but it has the element of surprise."

Minerva laughed as the chocolate melted in her mouth. Then, taking the folder by one hand, she exited Dumbledore´s office and emerged in the corridors of Hogwarts.

Irma Pince, the new librarian, was a thin, pinched-looking woman. She didn´t appear to be much older than Minerva, but she still looked menacing. Minerva settled herself into a chair behind the Restricted Section and rubbed her Order ring across the parchment binding.

The information contained was vast, but incredibly interesting. Minerva soon became absorbed in her reading. She learned that Grindelwald had once been Anders Grindelwald of Perth, Scotland; that he had been one of Hogwarts´s top students and a Slytherin prefect, but after leaving Hogwarts he had vanished into Eastern Europe and consorted with wizards from Durmstrang and smaller schools, schools of the worst kind. Like so many Dark wizards, he had sacrificed himself for power and made others do the same -- whether by force or persuasion. He had begun his reign of terror in the place where he gained his power, killing Muggles and wizards from the Balkans, Greece, and Russia.

He had spent extensive time in Germany around the years of Minerva´s birth, and took especial interest in an Austrian man called Adolf Hitler. The information was unclear as to this point, but it was believed he had made a bargain with the Muggle -- promising him "absolute power" by giving him a simple Persuasion Charm, in exchange for assurance that Hitler would torment Muggle-born wizards and witches. Then, returning finally to England, he gathered his "gang" of Hogwarts friends around him. Calling themselves the Morsdrodars, they persecuted Muggle-borns, friends of powerful Light wizards... anyone who might stop them from having absolute power.

More and more joined him. Wizards and witches -- and their governments -- were suffering from the same sorts of economic problems as Muggles were at that time, and the Ministry of Magic was too preoccupied with trying to improve the economy to notice the warning signs of the first truly powerful Dark wizard in over fifty years.

By the time an intelligent young employee managed to make his superiors see the approaching crisis (and was killed only a day later), it was too late. Grindelwald was unshakably in power, and the second great Muggle war was only a few months away from beginning.

The current missions against Grindelwald and the Morsdrodars were multifaceted. Spies -- like Minerva -- were dispatched, both to find out the names of future victims and the larger scope of future plans. Secret hospitals, staffed by completely trustworthy doctors and nurses, cared for those hurt by Grindelwald and tried to prevent general panic in the wizarding world. Diplomats and spies traveled to other countries threatened by Grindelwald, searching for the warning signs missed in England in the 30s.

An entire department of the Ministry, officially named the Anti-Dark Operations Department but mostly called Ado, processed the information constantly received and also wrestled with the harder questions of wartime -- which was more valuable, saving several lives or keeping their knowledge secret? Was Hitler their concern, or the Muggle governments? Where, exactly, was the defining line between the Muggle world and the wizarding one? Minerva shook her head, glad she was not working for this branch.

The information on Grindelwald´s future plans was sketchy, to say the least -- few spies were trusted enough to be in the inner circle where such plans were made. That would be part of Minerva´s job -- as a cat, she could go places human spies could not. They knew that his dreams became bigger -- he wished to use England, once conquered, as a starting point for the rest of the world. They knew that, like most Dark wizards, he was constantly searching for something, a sort of Philosopher´s Stone, to lengthen his life or give him wealth. The other information was applicable to any Dark wizard -- wishing to torture Muggle-born and half-blood witches and wizards, whom he considered inferior (Minerva shivered); and increase his own wealth.

Closing the book, Minerva returned to Dumbledore´s office, took another Veritasweet, and returned the papers.

"Meet me at the Headquarters on Friday morning," he said. "Pandora has returned from her last mission and it is time to begin your final training. Until then, study your handbook, review the ingredients in your kit, and get some rest. Pandora has spread the news that she is about to acquire a cat; we will register you as an Order agent with the MLES; and then you will begin."

When Minerva returned, she studied her seven-lock kit. She hadn´t fully explored it since her first days in the Order -- now nearly six months ago.

"Prometheus," she whispered, and the lid sprang up. She remembered easily what the first layer contained -- her personal information, a bar of chocolate, the keys to the other layers. The second held basic medicinal potions, bandages, quills, and ink. The third layer contained a small Sneakoscope, a pocket Foe-Glass, and an emergency Portkey to the headquarters in case her ring broke. In the fourth was a few precious nourirs -- small stones that could be transfigured into nutritious food.

The fifth layer was entirely taken up by an Invisibility Cloak. The sixth held more potions -- mostly truth potions -- and a few charmed objects.

The seventh layer was the most valuable of all; the things enclosed were rarer than dragon bloodstones and were worth half the gold in Gringotts. Yet none of them, Minerva remembered, could block the Killing Curse; and she made herself remember that.

A bottle of phoenix tears, which could heal any injury. A rock that would emit phoenix song, when the bearer was in the darkest of all dark states of mind. A single, blood-red feather, tinged with orange -- powerful enough to cast a single spell for eternity. And unicorn blood, willingly given, enough to hold a person from the edge of death for perhaps an hour.

Closing the kit quietly, Minerva sat cross-legged on the floor of her room, trying to remember everything she had learned.

It was finally beginning.

* * *

Pandora was the only Order spy Minerva knew who was referred to only by her code name. (Minerva´s was Athene, but was used only occasionally on missions. Dumbledore was Exploding Bonbon, a name of his own choosing.) It suited her, however, than any birth name would have. She was tall, with powder-white skin, large, honey-colored eyes, and dark hair that looked color-charmed. She was thin -- not attractively slender, but thin -- and seemed ageless. Minerva would have placed her age somewhere between thirty and fifty, but could give no other details.

Pandora had an air of enchanting and royal coldness, even with the people she knew, loved, and trusted. Even her smile revealed pointed teeth as she shook Minerva´s hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss McGonagall. Alastor and Albus say you show promise. I hope they are not mistaken."

Minerva´s back was straight and she was forcing herself not to feel intimidated, but she didn´t trust herself to smile. "For everyone´s sake, I hope they aren´t either," she replied. "I´m sure you will be wonderful to work with."

The two spent much of the day reading maps and charts, as Pandora re-explained the information the Order have gathered.

"I´ve spread word around the Morsdrodars that I´m getting a cat," she said with a grim smile. "You are anticipated. Lucky that it´s kitten season; otherwise, two new cats would seem unusual. I think your friend´s new `owner´ had an old cat die a natural death last week."

Minerva nodded. "I´ve seen the maps --" she ventured tentatively.

"Ah, yes." Taking a map from the stacks of parchment, Pandora smoothed it onto the table. Jabbing at various areas with a long, pointed nail, she began, "There´s a byway to Knockturn Alley here -- left, right, left, left again -- and you meet the others here. We Port to Grindelfestung -- that´s the main meeting place -- and then Apparate home. You´ll meet me at my house -- where do you live?"

"Close to the Ministry, in London. Off Myrrdin Road."

"All right." Taking a scrap of parchment, Pandora doodled a map. "I´m not far at all -- Diurn Alley, very close to the Portkey. Apparate there, and then we´ll walk to the Portkey. You may want to practice Flooing in your Animagus form, though."

Minerva nodded. "Right."

"You´ve worked out the recording spells, I understand? Cats can usually just wander around." She pointed out the different parts of Grindelfestung on the map. "We know there´s a chamber just here, where the inner circle meets. If you´re lucky, you can slip in there unseen." She set her teeth. "And as for Grindelwald -- Minerva, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why are you doing this, Minerva? I can tell that it´s not what you want to do with the rest of your life. You´re here, you´ll work hard -- but there´s no spirit in what you´re doing. What makes you hate Grindelwald so much that you´ll risk your life to end his reign of terror?"

Minerva hesitated. "I had to do something," she said. "What I really want to do is teach, and there aren´t any openings. Dumbledore offered me the chance to do this, and I couldn´t refuse. And then my brother joined up in the Muggle forces. He´s off fighting Hitler, and -- and anything I do to make his way the slightest bit easier, I´d do gladly."

Pandora nodded, obviously thinking. "I never knew Dumbledore very well," she said with a smile. "I was a Slytherin, and I worked to play the part of the perfect one. I´ve wanted to be a spy, to work against the dark, since I was only nine or ten years old. And the first rule of warfare is know thine enemy. But then -- I graduated from Hogwarts, and I went to work in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and I met a man called Alexander Brunning. We fell in love, and we were about to get married. But Alexander had been traveling in the Balkans, and he knew the warning signs for Grindelwald. He finally got someone to believe him, to believe that there was a serious problem. He was killed that night. That´s why I´m fighting against Grindelwald -- because it´s what he would have wanted."

Minerva shivered. Pandora´s intensity was scary at times. But before she could say anything, Dumbledore stuck his head into the room. "Minerva, may I have a word?"

She gladly followed him from the room. Pandora nodded curtly to the two of them.

"Minerva." He looked gravely at her, and his eyes no longer twinkled. "I am telling you this because it is important, and because I know it is something your Gryffindor heart will resist. When you are on the job, working against Grindelwald, the mission comes first. Pandora is in charge. In crises, her word is law. You must trust and obey her without hesitation; and you must not change orders to try to save others. They usually can help themselves. I hate the policy as well; I think human life should always come first. But in wartime, it is sensible. He who hesitates is lost. Pay no mind to anything else. Do you understand?

"The other, lighter things. You will find, once you start working here, that your schedule is very flexible. You will help with information processing during some days, but mostly your work will be at night, when the Morsdrodars meet. Stay rested. If you are catnapping during the meetings, the recording spell will still work, but it will be diminished. We´re developing a schedule so that you won´t always have to Floo to Pandora´s apartment when the Morsdrodars are meeting. For now, take this." He handed her a small mirror. "Pandora will notify you on this when she hears from the Morsdrodars. Her face will appear, and it should be warm to the touch -- it may burn a little, I´m afraid. We haven´t perfected the spell yet."

"Thank you, Professor. And I understand," replied Minerva.

"Be wary," he answered. "We suspect the next meeting will be on Thursday. Do not forget your instructions. Good evening."

"Good evening, Albus."

* * *

Thursday night found Minerva dining with Carl at the Leaky Cauldron when she felt something burn against her skin. "Ouch!" she exclaimed; then, when people turned to stare and Carl anxiously inquired if she was all right, she pulled him into the hallway.

"The Morsdrodars are meeting," she said quietly. "I have to run -- I´m sorry, Carl --"

"No matter," Carl replied quickly. His expression softened as she said, "Wish me luck, all right?"

"Be careful, Min. I mean it." He looked into her eyes and gently touched her hand, and fear choked her briefly. She didn´t trust herself to speak, but only gave him a quick smile, then Apparated.

Reappearing in a grove near the Knockturn-Diagon Alley byway, she extracted the Recording Potion from her pocket and gulped it quickly, then transformed and padded on cat paws to the Portkey station. Pandora was already there, dressed in rich black robes and wearing elaborate makeup.

"Come, Athene," she said, and Minerva jumped lightly up. Pandora held her and grabbed for the Portkey --

There was the familiar sense of being jerked along by something, and then they reappeared on the cold granite floor of a dark, tomb-like room. Other Morsdrodars, draped in the same black as Pandora, stood among them; Minerva could not smell Arabella´s Animagus form, but other cats milled about the room, which seemed like the hall of an ancient fortress. The walls were dark stone with no windows. Torches, sticking starkly from them, provided a flickering, greenish light.

A large table stood in the center of the room. Minerva´s hearing was good enough that she need not stand near; anyway, this job was Pandora´s. The Morsdrodars, as if by unspoken consent, seated themselves at the table. A tall, thin man with a haggard face and shining gray hair stood at the head. His eyes glinted coldly in the dim light.

"We are missing one," he said quietly, and his voice was like frozen iron. "Young is not present. The master will not be pleased."

He radiated a sense of evil, but Minerva had been sure he was not Grindelwald, and now she was proven correct.

"Where is he? Has he abandoned us? You all know the reward for a deserter." His teeth gleamed when he smiled.

"Young is... indisposed, Perkins," said a voice. "And you are not our master. You would do well to remember that."

Perkins shot an icy glare at the speaker. "I am still more powerful than you, Thorne, and you would do well to remember that. How is he indisposed?"

"He is on a mission to that Muggle fool in Germany," Thorne responded. He moved slightly into the torchlight, and Minerva saw that he was a short man with wavy black hair. Artour Thorne? she thought. Artour had been a few years ahead of her at Hogwarts, a Ravenclaw whom everyone thought would be better as a Slytherin.

"It has our master´s approval, then. Jocaste, you have targeted more victims, correct?"

"The Ministry´s system, once again, has failed," Jocaste replied. She was a large woman with a high, nasal voice. "The Newmans have been overlooked. Loyal to Dumbledore, Hufflepuffs to the core..."

"Their blood?" asked Perkins, as if he was thirsty for it.

"The woman is one of our sort, and the father is a purebred Muggle. The children are dirty half-bloods."

"Sickening," said another voice. "Really sickening. It´s like marrying a beast. Someone needs to outlaw it."

It took every bit of Minerva´s self-control to stop herself from springing into the face of the offender, claws out. If she had been human, she would have vomited. She had experienced, of course, the Slytherin prejudice against Muggle-borns and half-bloods; and she knew that only those with the prejudice exaggerated to the highest degree would want to become Morsdrodars, but the words still galled her. They worked their way through her fur-covered skin to her heart and smoldered there.

"And you have their location?" Perkins continued, as if that conversation had never happened.

"Here, sir." A bit of parchment zoomed into Perkins´s hand.

"Excellent. Others?"

"The Kirkwoods, from Edinburgh," said a male Morsdrodar with a scratchy voice. "The girl is about 16. A Mudblood."

"Killiways, of Diurn Alley." Minerva nearly jumped. That was Pandora´s voice. "Mudblood man and a half-blood woman. I´ll take care of them."

A chill shot up Minerva´s spine, and a gruesome thought crossed her mind. What happened to the known victims? Were they all saved -- and how was the Order of the Phoenix kept secret, if they were? And if they were not all saved -- she resolved to ask Pandora later.

"Good work. The Master will be much pleased." Perkins did not seem pleased in the slightest. "Business meeting dismissed."

This seemed to be a sort of cue for the Morsdrodars. Plates of food appeared on the table, the torches in the walls burned more brightly, and music began playing from somewhere. Pandora mingled among the others for a few moments, then worked her way over to Minerva.

"I said I was going to the loo," she whispered. "I don´t have much time. No -- don´t change -- it´ll attract too much attention. This part of the meeting is like a big social. There´s some drinking and talking, sometimes some dancing. But during this, the main few will slip away to plan operations. I don´t know if you´ll be able to make it into the chamber. I pushed a cat through there last week, and I don´t think anyone noticed. If not, just try to listen outside the door. The three to watch are Perkins, of course, but he doesn´t like this part of the meeting. And Jocaste, and Quimble -- he´s the short man in the brown robes. There are others, but we know these three for sure.

"If I leave, don´t worry about it. Just slip off into a corner. If you change quickly enough, you can twist your ring and be gone before anyone else is. And don´t be bothered if you don´t think you´ve found out anything today. It´s your first time, after all."

Minerva wound around people´s ankles, following other cats. She heard snatches of conversation, but it was mostly heated political debate and didn´t seem to warrant attention. While she was trying to find Arabella, Jocaste slipped away.

Minerva swore to herself -- she´d botched the first assignment already! Trying to stay posted outside the entrance to the secret room, she could only hear fragments of discussion.

"...the attempt on the Athena statue will be made next week..."

"...target the most valuable things... won´t think we´ll try for a ... only arcane magical value..."

"... when it´s gone... won´t suspect us..."

"...just like ordinary art thieves."

The Athena statue. She shook her head, puzzled. The giant statue from the Parthenon was one of the wizard community´s most prized treasures. But what would the Morsdrodars want with it?

Just then, she heard a pop, and Jocaste Apparated into the middle of the now almost-empty room. While she had been eavesdropping, many of the Morsdrodars had left.

Waiting until the remaining wizards were occupied with the food and drink once again, she then slipped into a badly lit corner of the room and changed quickly into her human form. Praying no one would detect the magic, she twisted her ring and was gone.

Her first assignment was over.