He closes his eyes, scrunching them tight like a child receiving a surprise, in the hopes that the cat part of her will go away and the mouse part of him will quiet down. When Strange opens his eyes, he is visibly relieved that McGonagall seems like a woman again.

But they have business to do. He reaches into his coat pocket to pull out the dead things Fitzjames brought: the wilted flower and some mustard stalks, all of which look a little crumpled thanks to Strange eating some floor. He looks over at McGonagall expectantly: did she bring the mirror?