Just past eleven at night, Amorsta left Dumbledore's office after their hasty meeting. His cheeks were stiff from maintaining a polite smile for so long, and even though Dumbledore was out of sight, he still seemed to be smiling.
Well, you have to make a living somehow; putting on a smile isn't a big deal.
Despite talking for over three hours, he still didn't understand why Dumbledore had summoned him tonight. Reflecting on the entire conversation, Amorsta realized that Dumbledore hadn't given him a chance to present any plans. Instead, the old man had guided their chat all over the place, like old friends having a casual conversation after a drink.
The only tangible gain was the half bottle of whiskey that Dumbledore generously gifted him.
It didn't make sense. Dumbledore's trust seemed out of character for someone usually so cautious.
The corridor was empty, and the people in the portraits on the walls were snuggled up under torches, sleeping soundly. It was Christmas break, and even the diligent caretaker Filch had left to visit old friends.
The wind blowing through the windows was still bone-chilling, but the snow had stopped. Through the thick clouds, the faint moonlight struggled to break free.
Amorsta stood by a window at the stairway landing, looking out with interest. On a starless night, the Forbidden Forest was an indistinct black mass, and the tiny light flickering in Hagrid's hut was the only light in the deep, dark night.
"I'm glad you managed to walk out of Dumbledore's office alive, Amorsta. I was already considering how to arrange your funeral,"
Snape, now in maroon pajamas, was leaning against the corner, staring at the whiskey bottle in Amorsta's hand with a sneer.
"Or is it that Dumbledore's Legilimency has regressed so much that he needs Veritaserum to get you to confess your crimes from the past few years?"
"Your way with words is as sharp as ever, Professor,"
Amorsta turned to look at Snape in the shadows and smiled.
"Headmaster Dumbledore didn't use Veritaserum on me, but it seems he has already figured out what he wanted to know from me."
…
A sliver of moonlight travelled thousands of miles and shone through the window grates, forming several rectangular patches on the floor of the hospital ward.
"Lumos."
Making sure Madam Pomfrey had returned to her small room to sleep, Hermione quietly opened her eyes, crawled under the covers, and pulled out a book titled Common Magical Ailments from under her pillow. Harry had borrowed it from the library for her.
Although Madam Pomfrey assured her that the fur on her face would fall off in a few weeks, Hermione hoped to find a way to shorten this time. She didn't know how to explain to visitors why she had grown lovely whiskers on her cheeks.
Maybe it was the influence of animal instincts from a botched transformation, but Hermione lay crouched like a real cat, her pale hand instinctively forming a cat's paw on the book's pages. Beneath the tightly tucked covers, a long, slender cat tail slipped out, dangling over the edge of the bed.
Suddenly, footsteps in the ward made Hermione's cat ears perk up. In a split second, she ruled out Harry, Ron, or Madam Pomfrey making their rounds. Her fur bristled with fear, and her expression turned terrified.
Could it be the perpetrator of the Chamber of Secrets attacks?
She hurriedly extinguished her wand's light and lay back down, clutching her wand tightly under the covers.
"Very little that happens in this school escapes Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor. Are you sure he knows nothing?"
"You may call him hypocritical, but he wouldn't allow anyone to harm students here with schemes."
A low, sinister voice answered the previous question, a voice Hermione recognized well. It belonged to the most despised teacher by Harry and the one most biased against Gryffindor students, Professor Snape.
As for the other voice, Hermione was certain she had never heard it before.
However, at least from their conversation, she could tell the newcomer wasn't the heir of Slytherin.
After a brief hesitation, Hermione's furry head poked out from under the covers. Thanks to the thick pads on her feet, she made no noise as she approached the door.
Following Snape's signal, Amorsta drew back the curtains and quickly approached, examining the two unfortunate boys lying on the hospital beds.
"The one with grey hair is Colin Creevey, and the other is Justin Finch-Fletchley, from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, respectively. Both are Muggle-born. You're sensitive to magic, Amorsta. What's your take?"
Amorsta leaned over the two beds, focusing intently. In his pale purple eyes, it seemed like two small whirlpools were slowly rotating. He alternately examined Colin, who posed as if taking a photo, and Justin, whose face was frozen in terror. He tapped and prodded their hardened skin, producing clear, hollow sounds in the quiet hospital.
"What did Dumbledore say?"
Amorsta didn't answer immediately. He sat down on the bed, solemnly staring into Colin's eyes, and asked casually,
"He believes it's a very advanced dark magic, requiring great power, beyond the abilities of a young wizard. Additionally, he privately told Minerva that he doesn't have the ability to directly break this powerful petrification curse."
"Huh, on that last point, I have my doubts."
Amorsta pursed his lips and then pointed at Colin's eyes, sharing his own view,
"It's not dark magic; it's a curse. Unusual magical power has used these two unfortunate boys' eyes as a window, freezing the flow of magic within their bodies, externally manifesting as petrification."
Snape looked a bit annoyed.
"Minerva, Filius, and Pomona have all hinted to me, and I've observed it myself. The kids in the house are eager for attention. No one is hiding their abilities like you did back then. They don't have the capability."
"Headmaster's fire whiskey indeed has quite the age."
Amorsta spoke as he stood up and stretched, but a sudden dizziness almost caused him to stumble. He grabbed the bedpost, massaging his temples as thoughts flashed through his mind. Hearing Snape's veiled complaint, he recalled his cautious younger self and smiled,
"You're looking in the wrong direction, Professor. I said their petrification was caused by an unusual kind of magic. It means this magic doesn't seem to come from a wizard. It's more like—just as an example—the magic flowing in dragon blood and nerves, different from a wizard's style."
Hiding behind the door, Hermione's yellow eyes widened, and she excitedly clenched her paw.
Amorsta glanced amusingly at the opposite ward. In his view, the little wizard's magic hiding behind the door was as conspicuous as the moon rising in the dark.
"So, it's not just a ridiculous rumour that Salazar Slytherin left a monster in the Chamber of Secrets, is it?"
Snape's voice regained its sinister tone. The greatest of the four founders, Slytherin, was always a source of pride for the school's graduates. But at this moment, Snape's anger at the founder surpassed his respect.
"Given the current situation, that seems most likely."
Thinking of the dark wizards in the underground world coveting Slytherin's treasures, Amorsta found it amusing. They might not expect that all Slytherin painstakingly left behind in the Chamber was just a magical creature.
However, his task was to find and hand over whatever was in the Chamber to Carcus Fawley. What it was exactly wasn't his concern.
After confirming that he couldn't immediately break the curse, Amorsta realized he couldn't get more information from the petrified Colin and Justin. He closed the curtains around them and said calmly,
"Actually, I'm more curious why the attacker, clearly capable of killing them after petrifying them, chose not to. Is it just for the thrill of creating fear? That seems like something only a psychopath would do—"
"That's a question not only you and I are curious about. I think Miss Hermione Granger is also very curious!"
Oh no!
Amorsta and Snape were about to leave, but as they passed Hermione's ward, Snape suddenly pulled out his wand and swung it hard at the door. Caught off guard, Hermione let out a startled yowl and tumbled out from behind the door, landing at Amorsta's feet.
"My goodness—"
In the ensuing silence, Amorsta's mouth opened slightly. He glanced at the mocking Snape and then down at the little witch curled up at his feet,
"When did the wizarding world get a cat-eared girl?!"