I will admit something that very few men of my stature would ever dare: There is a certain thrill to wielding forbidden knowledge responsibly.
My copy of the Marauder's Map unfurled beneath my fingers like an old, familiar friend, its parchment warm against my palms. Inked footsteps wandered the castle in their ceaseless little dances, names appearing and vanishing as students moved from breakfast halls to warm common rooms.
Everything looked peaceful. And naturally, that could only mean disaster was brewing.
"Let's have a look, shall we?" I murmured, tapping the parchment lightly.
The name Harry Potter caught my eye first, and right beside him, Ronald Weasley. And then, just behind them… Hermione Granger.
All three clustered inside Moaning Myrtle's lavatory.
I blinked.
Once is coincidence.
Twice is carelessness.
Three Gryffindors in a haunted bathroom is a tragedy waiting to be narrated in my autobiography.
I watched as Harry and Ron's names began to drift away down the corridor… while Hermione's remained firmly planted inside the bathroom.
"Oh."
A terrible, wonderful understanding dawned on me.
The Polyjuice potion incident.
I'd warned her. Merlin help me, I'd warned her.
Three times, in fact. With diagrams. And a short dramatic speech.
Had she…? No. She wouldn't have, right?
Of course she did…
Well. Time to give another educational speech.
It took me less than five minutes to arrive at the lavatory. I knocked politely, because I am many things, but I am not rude.
"Miss Granger?" I called. "Are you in there?"
"I'm busy!" came the muffled response.
Ah. Definitely doing something illegal.
"I don't mind waiting," I said pleasantly. "But if you've run into any problems, I am always available to offer… extremely valuable assistance."
I heard a stall door creaking.
There was the sound of movement. A hesitant footstep, then another. Slow and cautious.
The bathroom door opened no more than a sliver, and a single eye peeked out, completely surrounded by fur.
"…I see," I said calmly.
So much for subtlety.
I softened my tone. Alarmed children didn't need shouting. They needed correction; firm, thorough, and slightly terrifying.
"Miss Granger," I said gently, "didn't I tell you to be very, very careful not to confuse animal hair with a human's?"
There was a small, pitiful whimper.
"I got it from Millicent Bulstrode's comb," she whispered. "I thought it was hers… I didn't know she had a cat…"
I closed my eyes briefly. Merlin give me patience.
"Do you realise," I said quietly, "that you didn't just break Hogwarts rules?"
She went very still.
"You've also broken Ministry rules. Several of them in fact. Enough to earn yourself a rather unpleasant holiday in Azkaban, if the wrong sort of person found out."
She whimpered in fear.
I wasn't trying to scare her. Not really.
But Merlin, the girl really needs a sense of preservation. And fear, in controlled doses, can be more educational than any punishment.
Truth be told, I'd never understood why people insisted Hermione Granger belonged in Ravenclaw.
Yes, she was brilliant.
Yes, she was studious.
Yes, she could quote Hogwarts: A History like it was a sacred text.
But she was also reckless, dangerously so.
Hard-headed in a way most Gryffindors could only dream of achieving.
No, she was exactly where she belonged.
And now… I had to fix what her recklessness had done.
"I won't simply let this slide," I told her. "Now that I've found you, there will be consequences. But that can wait."
I straightened.
"For now, you're coming with me to the hospital wing. Only Madam Pomfrey can fix this."
There was a long pause. "…I can't," Hermione whispered.
I frowned. "You can."
"I, I don't want you to see me like this."
Ah.
There it was.
I softened instantly.
"Oh, don't be ridiculous," I said, wand flicking in my fingers. "If public humiliation were fatal, half this school would be buried under the Quidditch pitch."
Before she could protest further, I cast a clean, smooth charm.
Disillusionment.
"Done," I said lightly. "No one can see you now. Not even me."
That much was a tiny exaggeration, I could still see a faint distortion in the air, but it comforted her.
"You'll eventually have to let Madam Pomfrey see you," I added, "but that's between the two of you. Now, follow closely."
"…Thank you," she muttered.
On the way to the infirmary, she walked just behind my shoulder, careful and silent.
After a minute, she spoke. "Professor… what's going to happen to me?"
I glanced back where her head should have been. "That," I said honestly, "can wait until you stop shedding."
She huffed weakly, which I took as progress.
…
We reached the hospital wing without incident. I opened the doors and stepped in.
Madam Pomfrey immediately looked up from her desk and her eyes snapped onto me.
"What's the issue, Gilderoy?" she asked flatly. "Have you hexed your eyebrows off again and hidden them under an illusion?"
"I assure you, Poppy," I coughed embarrassedly, "I have learned from my mistakes." I said stiffly. "This time the situation does not involve my face. I have brought a student in need."
Her brow lifted. "Then where's the student?"
"She's here," I said, gesturing vaguely. "Invisible. Miss Granger had a… cosmetic accident."
Poppy crossed her arms. "Define cosmetic."
"She ingested Polyjuice Potion," I said, lowering my voice slightly, "with cat hair."
There was a very long pause. Then Pomfrey sighed the deep, tired sigh of a healer who has seen too much.
"Of course she did."
"Could you take her to a private ward?" I added. "And… fix her?"
Madam Pomfrey stepped forward. "Miss Granger, if you're in the room, take my arm."
A faint movement of air… and then a soft, invisible touch.
"Good," Pomfrey said. "Hold on. I'll remove the charm once you're behind the privacy screens."
I nodded. "Miss Granger, I'll check on you later. After I decide your punishment."
"I'm sorry," Hermione said quietly, voice thick and sniffing. "And… thank you."
"You're welcome," I replied.
I turned back to Pomfrey with a small, polite smile. "Alright, Poppy. I'll leave her in your capable hands."
She gave me a look like she was considering sedating me.
And honestly?
I'm lucky she didn't.
…
I unfolded the Map again as I left.
"Mischief never takes a holiday," I muttered.
Two names were moving very quickly through the dungeons.
Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.
Excellent.
Time to catch the rest of the criminals.
I intercepted them right at the top of the stairs and they almost ran straight into me.
They were both wearing oversized Slytherin robes. Crabbe and Goyle's naturally.
Too large, too clumsy, and way too obvious.
I folded my arms and didn't smile.
That alone nearly killed them.
Ron gulped. Harry froze like a deer in the path of a Hungarian Horntail.
"Care to explain?"
Ron started, stepping forward, but I silenced him before he could.
"You know what? Don't even bother, I already know everything."
They both went stiff.
Ron swallowed hard. "P-Professor… please don't tell my mum."
It took significant willpower not to laugh, but I steadied myself.
"You will both serve a week of detention."
They flinched.
"Mr. Weasley, yours will be with Mr. Filch."
Ron looked like he'd just been sentenced to a decade in a haunted dungeon.
"And Mr. Potter… yours will be with Professor Snape."
Harry looked like his soul briefly left his body.
Good.
Justice is important.
"So," I finished, stepping aside and gesturing down the corridor, "I suggest you return to your dormitories and reconsider your life choices."
They immediately sprinted away.
Cowards, so much for the house of the brave…
…
Back in the safety of my office, I finally allowed myself to relax.
I set the Marauder's Map aside, unbuttoned my cuffs, and paced slowly between the overflowing stacks of Christmas gifts and half-opened parcels I still hadn't finished opening. Honestly, one would think catching illicit Polyjuice operations and rescuing half-transfigured students would earn a man at least a quiet afternoon.
But punishment… yes. That required thought.
Miss Granger wasn't a foolish little rule-breaker like the other two. Potter and Weasley were reckless, yes, but impulsive. Their crime was stupidity.
Hermione Granger's crime was intentional.
She'd brewed a restricted potion in secret. Stolen ingredients. Planned the deception. Executed it badly, but still executed it. Worse, she had nearly ended up permanently altered because she'd trusted a random hair from a stranger's comb.
Brilliant girl.
Dangerous girl.
And dangerous people who think themselves too smart don't learn from simple detentions.
I tapped my wand against my chin thoughtfully. Lines of possibilities bloomed in my imagination; essays, cleaning trophies, reports to the Ministry…
Then it struck me.
Oh.
Oh, that was perfect.
Of course.
What better punishment for a girl who'd nearly turned herself into a cat…
…than being forced to confess everything to a woman who actually turns into one?
I smiled slowly.
"Yes," I murmured to myself, folding my hands behind my back and strolling to the window. "That will do nicely."
No screaming, no humiliation, no theatrics.
Just Miss Granger, standing in front of Professor Minerva McGonagall, looking her squarely in the eye and explaining:
I brewed Polyjuice Potion. I stole supplies. I tried to impersonate a student. And I turned myself into a half-Kneazle by accident.
I chuckled softly.
Let the cat lady deal with the cat girl.
That would be punishment enough.
…
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