"You're recovering well, Granger."
In the Hogwarts infirmary, Nolan casually directed his enchanted quill to scribble notes on parchment while addressing the oversized feline sprawled out on the hospital bed.
Hearing this, Hermione Granger's cat-like pupils widened in excitement. "Really? My fur has gotten shorter? Does this mean I'll be discharged soon?"
"Of course not," Nolan replied flatly, tugging at one of the whiskers on her face. "Still over three inches long—same as yesterday. Granger, I must say, your breed isn't bad. I wouldn't mind having a cat like you. You know, my dear Miss Nancy is always so lonely—I'm talking about my cat, of course. She doesn't have any feline companions."
"Nolan! I've suffered enough! Stop making fun of me!"
Like any properly ruffled cat, Hermione glared daggers at the Slytherin who was clearly enjoying himself at her expense.
"I can't believe this. Lying here like this, do you have any idea how much time I'm wasting? How many lessons I'm missing? I've already filled up three rolls of parchment with questions I need to ask Professor Flitwick! And I wrote as small as possible! At this rate, I'll fall behind everyone!"
Her prolonged feline predicament had already been wearing on her nerves, and now, thinking about her missed coursework, the ever-diligent Hermione felt herself teetering on the edge of hysteria.
Nolan, on the other hand, remained entirely unfazed. "Relax, Miss Granger. I can't say whether your grades will suffer, but I can confirm that the three most commonly used Transfiguration Reversal Potions have had no effect on you whatsoever."
"You said you'd cure me!"
"I said I'd do my best. And as I mentioned yesterday, this was a dangerous transformation. The reason it's considered dangerous is because reversing it is extremely complicated. Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape both failed to find a solution—that's why they agreed to let me try some of my... new ideas."
"New ideas!?"
"Don't mind that. Now, let's try the fourth potion. Oh, and prepare yourself—it contains skunk gland extract, so the smell might be a bit unpleasant…"
Hermione, still trapped in her feline form, stared in horror at the small vial of murky black liquid in Nolan's hand. She let out a sharp yowl. "Wait, Nolan, you actually want me to drink that?! Can't we reconsider—"
"For the sake of your grades, Miss Granger?"
"...Fine," Hermione gulped, ears twitching nervously. "I hope you're serious and not just messing with me."
The potion tasted absolutely foul, reminding her of that one time in first year when a mountain troll had smashed a particularly filthy toilet into pieces with its club.
Hermione had, of course, asked why Nolan couldn't have at least added some vanilla to improve the flavor. He rambled something about purity of ingredients—complete nonsense, in her opinion.
"Well?" Nolan asked, studying her with keen interest.
"Hmm… it's strange. My fur hasn't shortened, but the color seems to be changing…" Hermione hesitated, then gasped, "Look! It's shifting back to my natural hair color!"
"Fascinating," Nolan murmured, eyes gleaming. "I have no idea why, but this is definitely progress. I'll need to discuss your reaction with Professor Flitwick and the others."
"What?!" Hermione's ears flattened in outrage. "You're leaving?! Nolan, you haven't cured me yet!"
"No need to panic, Granger. Your treatment is a long process."
Yet, despite his words, there was a strange glint in his eyes as he studied her—one Hermione didn't like one bit.
She knew exactly what it meant.
Nolan Von Draugr wasn't interested in her well-being. No, the so-called Slytherin Prince had found himself a fascinating test subject, and he was far too eager to continue his experiments!
The realization made Hermione bristle. "Get out! Get out of here right now!"
"Alright, alright." Nolan raised his hands in surrender, though he didn't seem particularly bothered. In a quieter voice, he added, "Besides, I need time to analyze today's results anyway…"
Then, as if nothing had happened, he nodded politely to Madam Pomfrey and strolled out of the hospital wing.
Right outside, he nearly collided with a small group of students.
Two of them were Hermione's dear Gryffindor friends—Harry Potter and the ever-expressive Ron Weasley.
The third, a striking young witch with a slightly frail appearance, was Penelope Clearwater, the same Penelope who had spent Christmas at the Randall Gorge this year.
It seemed the three of them had just run into each other.
Ron, his face bright red, was currently stammering his way through a conversation with Penelope. He looked so flustered that one might assume he had completely forgotten how to speak English.
Not surprising. After all, Penelope Clearwater was still one of the most admired witches among the younger years at Hogwarts. Elegant, intelligent, and always a little distant, she had long been an unattainable dream for many.
Nolan merely nodded at Harry and Ron before stepping forward, smoothly taking Penelope's hand in his own. "What a coincidence, Penelope. I was just looking for you."
"H-Hey!" Penelope's face turned an adorable shade of pink, her usual poise momentarily slipping under the weight of the envious stares around them. "Nolan!"
"Shh," Nolan smirked. "Or are you hoping to test Tiffany's duel techniques again? I've picked up quite a few countermeasures for your tricks."
Hearing Nolan effortlessly pinpoint her weakness, Penelope immediately deflated, pouting in frustration. She said nothing, though her sulking expression was strangely… cute.
Wait. Cute?
This was unbelievable!
"I thought she was dating my brother Percy!" Ron burst out the moment Nolan led Penelope away.
Turning to Harry, he growled, "What is going on here?! Clearwater and Von Draugr seem way too close! What's Draugr up to?!"
"Don't ask me, Ron." Harry raised his hands in exasperation. "You know Von Draugr's always been… well, good with women."
"I have to tell Percy!"
"Hey, don't be ridiculous. Penelope already agreed to go on a date with Percy this weekend—everyone's talking about it." Harry tried to reason with him. "And sure, she and Von Draugr seem close, but I doubt they're that close. I mean, come on, there's a three-year age gap."
Ron, half-frustrated, half-bemused, muttered under his breath, "Why didn't I think of that…"
But before he could dwell on it, Harry tugged him into the hospital wing, where they had brought plenty of gifts and class notes for Hermione.
Merlin's beard, they could only hope that these small offerings would be enough to cheer up their ever-diligent friend… and prevent her from hissing at everyone she met like an enraged porcupine.