Hogwarts: Homecoming

Chapter 7: The Girl with Cat Ears

It was past eleven o'clock at night when Amos, his meeting finally concluded, left Dumbledore's office.

His cheeks felt a little stiff from the prolonged, accommodating smile he had maintained. Even now, with Dumbledore out of sight, his face seemed frozen in that expression.

Well, you have to make a living, right? Nothing shameful about putting on a smile.

Though they had talked for over three hours, he still couldn't figure out the true purpose of Dumbledore's summons tonight. Recalling the entire conversation, Amos realized Dumbledore had never given him a chance to present any of his plans. Instead, he had simply pulled Amos's thoughts along on a rambling journey, like old friends who hadn't seen each other in years, catching up over drinks.

His only tangible gain was the half-full bottle of whiskey still in his hand, which Dumbledore had generously gifted him.

It was highly illogical. The trust Dumbledore had shown was completely at odds with his famously cautious nature.

The corridor was empty. The figures in the portraits on the walls were nestled under the light of their torches, sleeping soundly. During the Christmas holiday, even the ever-diligent castle caretaker, Argus Filch, had left the school to visit old acquaintances.

A bitter wind still whistled through the window openings, but the snow had stopped falling. Through the thick, dark clouds, the faint silhouette of the moon could be seen, struggling to break free.

Amos paused at a window on a stairwell landing, looking out with interest. On a starless night like this, the Forbidden Forest was an inscrutable patch of black. The single point of firelight flickering from Hagrid's hut was almost the only light in the bottomless dark.

"I'm so glad you made it out of Dumbledore's office alive, Amos. I was even starting to plan your funeral."

Snape, now changed into a set of taro-purple pajamas, was pressed against the corner wall. He sneered, his eyes fixed on the bottle in Amos's hand. "Don't tell me Dumbledore's Legilimency skills have deteriorated so much that he needs to resort to Veritaserum to pry the last few years of your crimes out of you?"

"Your way with words is as sharp as ever, Professor," Amos said with a laugh, turning to look at Snape in the shadows. "Headmaster Dumbledore didn't use Veritaserum on me. However, it seems he managed to find out whatever it was he wanted to know."

A single ray of moonlight, having traveled over a thousand mountains and rivers, streamed through the windowpanes of the hospital wing, creating a series of long, rectangular patches of light on the floor.

"Lumos."

Confirming that Madam Pomfrey had retired to her small room for the night, Hermione Granger quietly opened her eyes. She wriggled deeper under the covers and pulled a book from under her pillow: Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. She had asked Harry to borrow it from the library for her.

Although Madam Pomfrey had assured her that the fur on her face would disappear in a few weeks, Hermione hoped to find a way to speed up the process. Otherwise, she had no idea how she would explain the lovely whiskers sprouting from her cheeks to the visitors she knew would come.

Perhaps influenced by the animal traits from the botched Transfiguration, Hermione crept about like a real cat. Her fair hands were unconsciously curled into paws as they rested on the pages of the book. From beneath the tightly tucked-in duvet, a long, thin cat's tail had slipped out, swinging idly over the edge of the bed.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps outside the ward made the two furry ears atop Hermione's head perk up. In an instant, she ruled out Harry and Ron coming to visit, as well as Madam Pomfrey on her nightly rounds. A chill ran down her spine, and her expression turned to one of terror.

Could it be? The attacker from the Chamber of Secrets?!

She hastily extinguished the light from her wand and lay flat on the bed, her hand gripping her wand tightly under the covers.

"Very few things that happen in this school escape the Headmaster's notice, Professor. Are you certain he truly knows nothing?"

"You can call him sanctimonious, but he would not stand by and allow students here to be harmed by such schemes," a grim, low voice replied. Hermione knew that voice well. It was Professor Snape, the Potions Master whom Harry despised most, and the professor with the biggest bias against Gryffindor students.

The voice that had spoken before, however, was one that Hermione, with her exceptional memory, was sure she had never heard.

Still, at least she could tell from the conversation that the visitor wasn't the Heir of Slytherin.

After a moment's hesitation, Hermione's furry head popped out from under the duvet. Thanks to the thick pads that had grown on the soles of her feet, she made no sound as she crept towards the door.

At a gesture from Snape, Amos pulled back the curtain of the ward and strode forward, carefully examining the two unfortunate boys lying in adjacent beds.

"The gray-haired one is Colin Creevey. The other is Justin Finch-Fletchley. From Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, respectively. Both are Muggle-born. You're sensitive to magic, Amos. Give me your opinion."

Amos stood between the two beds and leaned down, his expression focused. In his pale violet eyes, two vortexes seemed to be slowly spinning. He looked first at Colin Creevey, whose hands were frozen in the motion of taking a picture, then at Justin Finch-Fletchley's terrified expression. From time to time, he would poke and tap their petrified skin, the hard, knocking sound echoing clearly in the quiet hospital wing.

"What did Dumbledore say?" Amos asked casually, not answering the question directly. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring intently into Colin's eyes.

"He believes it is a very advanced form of Dark Magic, requiring immense power far beyond the capabilities of a young wizard. Furthermore, he privately told Minerva that he personally lacks the ability to directly break such a powerful petrification curse."

"Hah. On that last point, I have my reservations," Amos said, pursing his lips. He then pointed to Colin's eyes and gave his own assessment. "It's not Dark Magic. It's a curse. An abnormal magical energy entered through the eyes of these two unlucky lads, freezing the flow of magic within their bodies. The external manifestation is petrification."

"Minerva, Filius, and Pomona have all discreetly hinted as much to me," Snape said, looking somewhat annoyed. "And I have indeed been observing. The students in this school now are all desperate for the spotlight. No one likes to hide their strength like you used to. They do not have this ability."

"This Firewhisky from the Headmaster's collection is certainly well-aged." Amos stood up to stretch his body, but a wave of dizziness suddenly hit him, and he nearly stumbled. He steadied himself on the bedpost, rubbing his temples as a flurry of thoughts raced through his mind. Hearing Snape's veiled complaint and remembering his own cautious younger self, Amos smiled.

"You're looking in the wrong direction, Professor. As I said, their petrification was caused by magic of an abnormal nature. Meaning, this magic doesn't seem to have come from a wizard. It's more like... for example, the magic flowing in a dragon's blood and nerves. It's completely different from a wizard's."

Hiding behind the door, Hermione's yellow eyes widened instantly, and she clenched her paws in excitement.

Amos glanced amusingly at the hospital room diagonally across from them. In his vision, the magic of the little witch hiding behind the door was as conspicuous as a moon rising in the darkness.

"So, the rumor that Salazar Slytherin left a monster in the Chamber of Secrets is not so absurd after all, is it?" Snape's voice had regained its grim tone. The great Slytherin was usually a source of pride for graduates of his house, but at this moment, Snape's annoyance with the school's founder outweighed his reverence.

"From the current situation, that seems to be the most likely possibility." Thinking of the Dark Wizards in the underworld coveting Slytherin's secret treasure, Amos felt a wave of amusement. They would never imagine that the great legacy Slytherin had painstakingly left in his chamber was nothing more than a magical creature.

His job, however, was to find whatever was in the Chamber and deliver it to Cacus Fawley. What it actually was, was no concern of his.

Confirming that he had no immediate way to break the curse, Amos knew he could learn nothing more from the petrified boys. He pulled the curtains closed around their beds again, his tone indifferent. "Actually, what I'm more curious about is why the attacker, who clearly had the power to kill them after petrifying them, chose not to. Was it purely for the pleasure of creating fear? That seems like something only a psychopath would do—"

"A question that not only you and I are curious about, but one that I imagine Miss Hermione Granger is curious about as well!"

Thump!

Amos and Snape were preparing to leave. But as they passed Hermione's room, Snape suddenly whipped out his wand and flicked it sharply toward her door. A surprised yelp came from behind it. Hermione stumbled out, tumbled twice, and landed in a heap right at Amos's feet.

"Good heavens—"

In the dead silence that followed, Amos's mouth fell open. He looked from the sneering face of Snape down to the little witch curled up in a ball before him, his eyes wide.

"When did the wizarding world get cat-girls?!"