Magical Pets, Rats, and Tests (Part Three)

"Mom," Ginny said, her voice so soft it sounded like a secret meant only for herself, "it's beautiful."

Mrs. Weasley turned to the masked young man. "Is this one specialized too?"

"Yes." The young man approached with steps as light as a cat's. "Petrification Specialization. Its ordinary form is a cat. In guardian form, it grows to three times the size of a typical house cat. Bone armor covers its entire body, its claws can extend and retract, and a bone spike grows from the tip of its tail. In tests, it deflected ninety-seven percent of Petrification Curses."

"Ninety-seven percent?" Mrs. Weasley's eyes widened.

"Yes." His voice stayed even, unaffected by her reaction. "But specialized types aren't sold directly. You need to pass a test."

"A test—when can we take it?"

"Right now." He raised a hand toward the second floor. "There's a dedicated testing room upstairs. Please follow me."

Mrs. Weasley hesitated. She glanced at Ginny and saw something in her eyes she couldn't refuse. It wasn't petulance or pleading, but a quieter, purer wish: I want this. I won't cry or make a fuss. I just really want it.

"All right," Mrs. Weasley said. "Let's have a look."

Hermione opened her mouth, then stopped when she saw Ginny's quiet face. She couldn't say, "Don't go." This was an eight-year-old girl's wish. Nor could she say, "There's something wrong with this," because she had no proof.

She only felt uneasy. No one knew where those pets had come from, and the masked man's smile was too perfect—so perfect it looked rehearsed.

She followed Mrs. Weasley and Ginny upstairs.

The second floor was laid out differently from the first. There were no display screens, no glass enclosures, no staff walking dogs. Just a long corridor lined with closed wooden doors.