Chapter 188: Affinity with Mrs. Norris
When January arrived, Hogwarts found itself populated by an unusual number of cats, owls, and even the occasional deer.
Mr. Filch was utterly baffled as to why anyone would be stupid enough to think turning into a deer would help them sneak around at night.
Wrong biscuit, probably, Sean mused.
Occasionally, to prevent Filch's office from overflowing with students, or perhaps to lighten the professors' workload, Sean would intercept and redirect some of the "minor offenders"—like Hufflepuffs who had lost track of time playing Wizard's Chess.
Leaving the corridor one day, Sean heard the melodious chime of the Panel:
[You have gained the affection of the Kneazle-part Magical Beast (Mrs. Norris) to the Expert standard. Proficiency +50]
[Magical Beast Affinity: Kneazle (Mrs. Norris): Friendly (Adept) (10/9000)]
"Phew—"
Sean exhaled a long breath. It had taken over a week, but he had finally completed the affinity task with Mrs. Norris.
Now, he could create the wizarding world's first Magical Creature Transfiguration Biscuit!
He could already imagine the Weasleys' marketing slogan:
"Traveling abroad? Worried about getting lost? Try a Kneazle Biscuit! Help your child become a wizard with a sense of direction!"
But before the biscuit could be released to the public, he had to report to Professor Terra.
Room of Hope.
Ritual was the most crucial part of Alchemy. Having familiarized himself sufficiently with Kneazles, Sean further refined his ritual.
It now consumed more time, but it was robust enough to carry the magical power of a magical creature into a wizard's form.
The first Kneazle Biscuit was completed three days later. Its appearance had changed; it was a biscuit that emitted a soft purr-purr sound.
[You have practiced crafting a Kneazle Biscuit to the Apprentice standard. Proficiency +1]
As the Panel chimed, Sean's tense nerves finally relaxed.
Long effort had yielded a small harvest.
Although the problem of maintaining a wizard's will remained unsolved for the general populace, Sean harbored a suspicion: while ordinary wizards might lose their minds, he, possessing a feline form, might not.
Moments later, a black cat appeared in the snow. It looked at itself in confusion, then its vertical green pupils flashed with human-like joy.
As a Kneazle, Sean felt a distinct, unique intuition.
He effortlessly found Justin in the kitchens, Hermione in the library, and even Harry on the Quidditch pitch.
With the new term, Quidditch practice had resumed.
Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Captain, was working the team harder than ever. Even in the endless rain following the heavy snow, his enthusiasm hadn't dampened. The Weasley twins complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Harry sided with him.
"If we win our next match against Hufflepuff, we'll overtake Slytherin in the House Championship for the first time in seven years," Harry muttered to himself in the corner of the changing room.
Sean didn't find Quidditch particularly fun, but seeing the Gryffindors' unity, he thought perhaps this was what youth was about.
A black cat padded through the sleet, leaving plum-blossom paw prints in the snow as it left the pitch.
The wind and snow were fierce, but the black cat was wearing a jumper, concealed by a Disillusionment Charm.
Alchemy Office.
A small wizard suddenly materialized nearby. No one noticed how he had arrived.
This was the stealth of an Animagus. During Voldemort's first rise, Professor McGonagall had used this ability to spy for the Ministry. And a certain beetle had used it to gather scoops for The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore and fabricate rumors about Harry and Hermione—until Hermione caught her in an unbreakable jar.
The wizarding world had never developed effective countermeasures against Animagi. Otherwise, Sirius Black wouldn't have escaped Azkaban so easily.
As for the Registry... Sean doubted a list that missed four or five unregistered Animagi in Britain alone was worth much.
A group of upper-year students poured out of the Alchemy classroom.
"Payton, did you hear? The International Alchemical Symposium is starting this year..." a Ravenclaw student said.
"If you had any brains, you'd know that has nothing to do with us," Pamela Payton retorted, raising an eyebrow. "The youngest alchemist in the Symposium's history was Albus Dumbledore. Do you think you compare to him?"
Every year, sixth-years deluded themselves into thinking they could emulate young Dumbledore and attend such a prestigious event. They forgot Dumbledore's dazzling credentials: Head Boy, Prefect, winner of the Barnabus Finkley Prize for Exceptional Spell-Casting, Gold Medal-Winner for Ground-Breaking Contribution to the International Alchemical Conference in Cairo, and British Youth Representative to the Wizengamot.
A little more study would reveal the absurdity of their ambition.
"Oh, I don't compare to the Headmaster, of course. But the Professor didn't criticize my work today. That means I've improved, right, Payton? If I keep working hard, maybe..."
The other Ravenclaws nodded. Alchemy students needed dreams. Professor Terra's evaluations were usually disappointment, criticism, or silence. Today's lack of criticism was high praise indeed.
"You'll learn that even among all branches of magic, Alchemy demands the most talent..." Pamela Payton had no desire to continue the conversation. She sometimes wondered if these people were fit to study Alchemy at all.
If they had any perception, they would know the Professor was always in a good mood during this particular slot.
The reason...
"If you still harbor naive ideas, why don't you wait by the classroom door a little longer?"
She walked away. Her Everlasting Ink still had flaws; she needed to spend more time on it. A wizard without talent could only rely on hard work. She firmly believed that.
As rain fell on snow outside the window, Sean entered the Alchemy classroom.
(End of Chapter)
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