Cat-Eared Girl

A little after eleven at night, Amosta left Dumbledore's office after hastily wrapping up their conversation.

His cheeks felt a little stiff from maintaining a smile for so long. Even after Dumbledore had vanished from sight, his expression still looked as though he were smiling.

Couldn't be helped. A man had to make a living; there was no shame in greeting people with a smile.

Though they had talked for over three hours, he still had not figured out why Dumbledore had summoned him tonight. Recalling the entire conversation, Amosta realized that Dumbledore had never given him a chance to present any plan. Instead, he had simply led Amosta's thoughts wandering from one topic to another, like old friends reunited after years apart, chatting idly over drinks.

His only gain was the half-bottle of whisky still in his hand, which Dumbledore had generously given him.

That was highly unreasonable. The trust Dumbledore had displayed was completely at odds with his cautious nature.

The corridor was empty. The figures in the portraits along the walls slept soundly beneath the torches. During the Christmas holiday, even Filch, the dutiful castle caretaker, had left the school to visit old acquaintances.

The cold wind blowing into the castle through the window openings was still biting, but the snow had stopped. Amid the piled clouds, the moon could vaguely be seen struggling to break free of its confinement.

Amosta stood before a window opening at the turn of the stairs, gazing into the distance with interest. On this starless night, the Forbidden Forest was an indistinct expanse of blackness. The flickering light in Hagrid's Hut was almost the only light beneath the bottomless curtain of night.

"I'm so glad you managed to walk out of Dumbledore's office alive, Amosta. I was already considering how to arrange your funeral."

Snape had changed into a mauve nightgown. Pressing himself against the wall at the corner, he stared at the bottle in Amosta's hand and sneered.

"Has Dumbledore's Legilimency declined so badly that he has to rely on Veritaserum to pry the crimes you've committed over the past few years out of your mouth?"

"Your way of speaking is as sharp as ever, Professor."

Amosta turned to look at Snape in the shadows and smiled.

"Headmaster Dumbledore did not use Veritaserum on me. Still, it seems he has already learned what he wanted to know from me."

A beam of moonlight that had crossed mountains and rivers shone through the window lattice, forming several long rectangular patches of light side by side on the floor of the Hospital Wing ward.

"Lumos."

After confirming that Madam Pomfrey had returned to her little room to sleep, Hermione quietly opened her eyes, wriggled deeper beneath the blankets, and pulled out a copy of Common Magical Ailments from beneath her pillow. 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 fade completely in only a few weeks, Hermione hoped she could find a way to shorten that time. Otherwise, she had no idea how to explain to the people who would inevitably visit her why beautiful whiskers had grown on her cheeks.

Perhaps because her failed transformation had affected her with animal instincts, Hermione crouched like a real cat. Her pale hands unconsciously curled into paws atop the pages, while beneath the tightly tucked blankets, a slender cat tail quietly slipped out and swayed lazily over the edge of the bed.

Suddenly, the footsteps coming from outside the ward made the two ears drooping atop Hermione's head perk up. In an instant, after ruling out Harry, Ron, and Madam Pomfrey making her rounds, Hermione's fur stood on end and her expression turned terrified.

Could she have encountered the culprit behind the Chamber of Secrets attack?!

She hurriedly extinguished the light from her wand, lay flat on the bed again, and clenched her wand tightly beneath the blankets.

"Very little that happens in this school can be hidden from Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor. Are you sure he truly knows nothing?"

"You may call him hypocritical, but he would never allow anyone to harm the students here through schemes and tricks."

A gloomy, low voice answered the previous question. Hermione knew that voice well. It belonged to Harry's most hated professor, and the Potions Class professor most prejudiced against Gryffindor House students among the entire faculty: Professor Snape.

As for the earlier voice, Hermione, with her exceptional memory, was certain she had never heard it before.

At least, however, their conversation revealed that the newcomers were not some Heir of Slytherin.

After a brief hesitation, Hermione's furry head emerged from beneath the blankets. Thanks to the thick pads that had grown on the soles of her feet, she made no sound at all as she crept toward the door.

At Snape's signal, Amosta pulled aside the concealing curtain, strode forward, and carefully examined the two unfortunate boys who had been attacked in the adjacent beds.

"The gray-haired one is Colin Creevey, and the other is Justin Finch-Fletchley. They are from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff respectively, both Muggle-born. You're highly sensitive to magic, Amosta. Tell me what you think."

Amosta stood between the two beds and bent down, his expression focused. Two vortexes seemed to slowly turn within his pale violet eyes. One moment, he studied Colin Creevey, whose raised hand was frozen in a picture-taking pose; the next, he examined the terrified Justin Finch-Fletchley. From time to time, he poked and tapped their hardened skin with his fingers, the dull knocking sounds unusually clear in the quiet Hospital Wing.

"What did Dumbledore say?"

Rather than answer directly, Amosta sat on the bed, stared solemnly into Colin's eyes, and asked casually.

"He believes it is an extremely advanced form of Dark Magic requiring powerful magic, already beyond the capabilities of young wizards. In addition, he privately told Minerva that he personally lacks the ability to directly lift such a potent Petrification Curse."

"Heh. I reserve judgment on that last point."

Amosta pursed his lips, then pointed at Colin's eyes and gave his opinion.

"It isn't Dark Magic. It's a curse. Abnormal magic used these two unlucky fellows' eyes as windows and froze the flow of magic within their bodies, manifesting outwardly as petrification."

"Minerva, Filius, and Pomona have all hinted as much to me."

Snape looked somewhat irritated. "I have indeed observed them. The children in the school now all wish they could stand out. No one likes hiding their abilities as you did back then. They don't have the capability."

"This bottle of Firewhisky from the Headmaster's collection is certainly well aged."

Amosta rose and stretched, only for a sudden wave of dizziness to strike his head. He nearly stumbled and fell. Supporting himself against a bedpost, he rubbed his temples as countless thoughts flashed through his mind. Hearing Snape's veiled complaint and recalling the wary person he had once been, Amosta smiled.

"You're looking in the wrong direction, Professor. As I said, their petrification was caused by magic of an abnormal nature. That means this magic does not seem to come from a wizard. It is more like... let me give you an example. Like the magic flowing through a Dragon's blood and nerves—it is entirely different in nature from a wizard's."

Hermione, hiding behind the door, immediately widened her yellow eyes and excitedly clenched her paws.

Amosta glanced amusedly at the ward diagonally opposite. In his vision, the magic of the young witch hiding behind the door was as conspicuous as a moon rising in the darkness.

"So the claim that Salazar Slytherin left a monster within the Chamber of Secrets was not merely an absurd rumor, was it?"

Snape's voice became gloomy once more. Slytherin, the greatest among the Four Founders, had always been the pride of wizards who graduated from that House, but at this moment, Snape felt more anger toward the House founder than reverence.

"Judging by the current situation, that is the most likely possibility."

Thinking of the Dark wizards in the underground world coveting Slytherin's secret treasure, Amosta found it rather amusing. They likely would never have imagined that what Slytherin had painstakingly left behind in the Chamber of Secrets was merely a magical creature.

However, his task was to find what was inside the Chamber of Secrets and deliver it to Cacus Fley. What had been left in the Chamber of Secrets was none of his concern.

After confirming that he lacked the ability to lift the curse immediately, Amosta could no longer learn anything more from the petrified Colin and Justin. He drew the curtains around them again and spoke calmly.

"Actually, what interests me more is why the attacker, despite clearly having the ability to kill them directly after petrifying them, did not do so. Was it simply to enjoy the thrill of creating fear? That seems like something only a pervert would do—"

"That question does not only interest you and me. I imagine Miss Granger is equally curious!"

"Ow!"

Amosta and Snape were preparing to leave, but as they passed Hermione's ward, Snape suddenly drew his wand and slashed it fiercely toward the room. Hermione let out a startled shriek from behind the door, stumbled straight out from behind it, rolled twice, and ended up sprawled at Amosta's feet.

"My goodness—"

In the soundless silence, Amosta slowly opened his mouth. He glanced from the mocking Snape to the young witch, who was nearly curled into a ball beneath his gaze.

"When did cat-eared girls appear in the wizarding world?!"