Adrian looked at the glowing pink text hovering in the dim corridor, and then looked down at the cat.
The tabby cat sat perfectly still and stared at him with the same severe expression Minerva usually reserved for Fred and George.
After everything that day, Adrian’s first thought was that this was probably another trap.
There was no penalty for refusing, but thirty points for petting a castle cat seemed harmless enough.
Assuming it was just a strangely stern castle pet, Adrian accepted the mission.
He crouched down slowly, extending his hand.
He held out his fingers until the cat finished inspecting them, then scratched gently behind one ear.
The cat permitted the first touch.
Adrian moved his hand and stroked smoothly along its back.
The cat instantly stiffened at the second touch, its spine going rigid as it watched him with an unnervingly sharp stare.
“You are a very severe good kitty,” Adrian told it mildly.
The cat’s eyes narrowed into slits.
It allowed exactly two more strokes of his hand before it turned away with offended dignity, its tail twitching once as it disappeared around the stone corner.
A quiet chime sounded in Adrian’s head.
[MISSION COMPLETE] [Transfiguration Insight Fragment ×3] [30 PP] [PP Balance: 295] Adrian stood, brushed the dust from his trousers and continued toward Hufflepuff.
He decided that Hogwarts apparently employed cats as corridor inspectors and thought no more about it that night.
The next morning, Susan sat beside Adrian in the first-year Transfiguration classroom.
At the desk ahead of them, Hermione was already fully prepared, her parchment unrolled and three separate reference books stacked neatly beside her inkwell.
There was no professor at the front of the room.
Instead, a tabby cat sat motionless on the edge of the heavy wooden teacher’s desk, watching the students file in.
Adrian had just pulled out his chair when he noticed the square markings around the cat’s eyes.
His gaze moved from the markings to its rigid posture and twitching tail.
His stomach sank.
Before he could fully process the memory of scratching it behind the ears, the cat leapt from the desk and transformed into Professor McGonagall.
Susan, who was reaching for her quill, caught the look of profound, horrified realisation on Adrian’s face.
She paused, her eyes darting between him and the stern Transfiguration professor.
She instantly knew there was a story, but Minerva began the class before Susan could demand an explanation.
Minerva began by warning them that Transfiguration rewarded precision and punished careless wandwork.
She demonstrated the match-to-needle transformation once, leaving a perfect silver needle on the desk, then ordered the class to begin.
For their first practical exercise, they were tasked with turning a wooden matchstick into a silver needle.
Adrian repeated the wand movement Minerva had demonstrated.
His hand no longer shook during the narrow turn, but he still released the spell slightly too early.
The matchstick shimmered.
One end narrowed into a sharp metallic point while the rest remained stubbornly wooden.
It was not a needle, but it was closer than the matchstick had been a moment earlier.
Minerva walked between the desks, inspecting their work.
She stopped beside Adrian, picked up the half-metal matchstick and turned it between two fingers.
She reached down and physically corrected the angle of his wrist, tilting his wand a fraction of an inch higher.
As she leaned in, she dropped her voice so only Adrian could hear.
“You will not call me kitty again, Mr Clarke,” Minerva told him quietly.
Adrian kept his eyes on his matchstick, his expression perfectly composed.
“Would Professor Kitty be more respectful?” he asked.
Minerva’s grip on his wrist tightened for one brief, warning second.
“Two additional chapters before our next lesson,” Minerva said.
She released his wrist and moved to Hermione’s desk.
Beside him, Susan buried her face in her arms, her shoulders shaking as she spent the remainder of the class struggling not to laugh out loud.
Susan waited until they were seated at lunch before returning to the subject.
Adrian tried to concentrate on his food, but she kept asking increasingly specific questions until he admitted that the cat had permitted four strokes and one scratch behind the ear before leaving.
The revelation that he had called the Deputy Headmistress a “very severe good kitty” ended Susan’s attempt to remain composed.
She put down her goblet before the pumpkin juice could spill and laughed into both hands.
Over at the Gryffindor table, Fred and George noticed her laughter.
A folded paper note immediately hit Adrian in the back of the head.
Susan refused to tell the twins exactly what had happened.
Unfortunately, her repeated use of the words cat, corridor and Professor McGonagall gave Fred and George enough material to become dangerous.
Fred and George caught up with Adrian and Susan in the entrance hall before dinner.
Minerva was crossing the opposite side of the room when both twins suddenly straightened and offered her exaggeratedly respectful greetings.
Fred carefully stressed the word Professor.
George began complimenting her posture before Minerva’s eyes shifted toward them.
He stopped halfway through the sentence.
Minerva continued walking without deducting points, although her gaze paused on Adrian long enough to remind him that she knew exactly where the joke had started.
Once she was out of hearing range, Fred informed Adrian that he had achieved something neither twin had managed in three years.
“You touched McGonagall and survived,” George said.
“Admittedly, you had fur as protection.” As they walked down the basement stairs toward the Hufflepuff common room, Susan nudged Adrian’s shoulder.
“You know,” Susan mused, “petting a professor before finishing your first week of classes has to be some kind of Hogwarts record.” “The week isn’t over yet,” Adrian replied mildly.
They reached the Hufflepuff noticeboard, where the first-year timetable still occupied the centre of the cork.
Susan ran one finger down the next day’s lessons and stopped at the first entry.
Herbology — Greenhouse One — Professor Sprout “Try not to pet this professor,” she advised.
Adrian looked at the scheduled lesson.
“No promises.”