197: The Petrified Cat

Nolan remained in Snape's office, resting until nightfall.

Eve had been allowed to stay and look after him—though not out of Snape's kindness.

In his own words: "I'd rather not return to find my potion storeroom in ruins, or that this idiotic vampire has overdosed on potions and turned into a zombie. So you'd better keep an eye on him."

Eve chuckled at the memory, shaking her head. "Professor Snape being 'considerate'? If I told Alicia that, she'd never believe me."

A sleepy voice interrupted her thoughts.

"What time is it, Eve?"

Nolan stirred, rubbing his eyes as he slowly regained consciousness. The eyepatch he usually wore was gone, revealing a single violet eye beneath his hand. It glowed faintly, eerie and unnatural in the dim candlelight.

"Dinner might still be going," Eve replied, dabbing a cool handkerchief against his forehead to wipe away the lingering sweat. "Don't forget—it's Halloween tonight."

Nolan blinked his left eye sluggishly, still adjusting to the sensation. "Why not just use Scourgify?"

"…I like doing it this way," Eve murmured. "I want to wipe your sweat away myself."

Nolan gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment, his usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion. He had never felt this weak in his entire life—not even as a newborn. Every part of him was drained, leaving him completely defenseless.

And so, he simply let himself lean into Eve's embrace.

Eve, for her part, was more than happy to hold him.

It was rare—almost unheard of—for Nolan to be the one needing support. He had always been the one giving comfort, always the one embracing her. The sudden role reversal made her heart race with excitement.

"I made you miss the Halloween feast."

"You know that doesn't matter to me, Nolan."

Eve's fingers threaded through his hair, her touch gentle, soothing. She smiled. "I'd miss a hundred Christmases for you… Are you feeling better?"

Nolan exhaled slowly. "I think so. Let's go experience what's left of Halloween."

With Eve supporting him, they made their way out into the corridors.

The castle had been beautifully decorated for the occasion—floating jack-o'-lanterns cast warm, flickering light across the walls, and enchanted bats flapped their wings as they darted overhead. Every now and then, an eerie, shadowy figure of a werewolf would lunge out from the darkness, only to dissolve into mist—just another harmless illusion meant to startle passing students.

Before long, they began to hear the excited murmurs of students and the shuffle of footsteps from the Great Hall.

"Looks like the feast is already over," Nolan murmured, his voice still faintly hoarse. "I thought you'd at least get to catch the end of it."

"And yet, you still don't realize—I don't care about that," Eve replied, smiling sweetly. "If you don't like Halloween, why would I?"

It was ironic, really.

Halloween had originally been a celebration of spirits and the supernatural—a holiday that should have been important to vampires. Yet, after centuries of living alongside humans, many of them had abandoned the tradition altogether. Instead, they had embraced Christmas—a holiday deeply rooted in a religion that had once condemned them.

"Hey! Nolan!"

A cheerful voice called out as they reached a crossroads in the hallway.

Alicia and the others were waiting there.

Alicia immediately hooked her arm around Eve's, flashing a grin. "Feeling better, darling? I saved some food for you two."

"We all know Nolan likes tomato juice, so we got an entire pitcher for him!" Montague announced proudly, holding up a gleaming silver jug. "You scared the life out of us today. So drink up and don't you dare pass out in class again."

"Passing out in Snape's class? That's a story for the ages," Miles said with an amused grin. "Imagine that—Professor Snape is so terrifying, he even managed to scare Nolan Von Draugr unconscious! That's got to be some kind of record!"

"Shut up, Miles!"

A collective fist from the Slytherins promptly put an end to his commentary.

The group of students continued down a long corridor, chatting and laughing—until the ones in front suddenly came to an abrupt halt.

"What's going on?" Miles muttered, frowning as he tried to push through the crowd.

Nolan and Eve, standing further back, soon caught sight of the scene as well.

And just like that, the whispers died.

There, at the center of the gathered students, stood the famous Gryffindor trio—Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger—all three of them looking as pale as ghosts.

But what caught everyone's attention wasn't them.

It was the message scrawled across the wall in thick, glistening red letters:

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware."

Yet even that wasn't the most horrifying part.

Hanging from a torch bracket nearby was a stiff, unmoving cat—Mrs. Norris.

Her body was rigid as stone, her fur bristled in eternal fright, as though she had been turned into some grotesque taxidermy specimen.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then, from within the hushed crowd, Draco Malfoy's voice rang out, breathless with excitement. His usually pale face was flushed with exhilaration.

"Enemies of the Heir! That means you, Mudbloods! You'd better watch yourselves!"

He barely had time to finish before Nolan's boot connected with his stomach, sending him sprawling onto the cold stone floor.

"I warned you, Draco," Nolan said coolly, shaking out his foot. "I told you never to use that word again."

Draco wheezed in pain, but before he could retaliate, his outburst had already drawn the attention of Filch—who came storming down the hall like a madman.

The moment his eyes landed on his petrified cat, he let out a wretched wail, drawing the rest of the professors to the scene.

"Potter, Granger, and… Weasley."

Snape's voice cut through the noise as he glared at the three Gryffindors. "Come with me."

As they started forward, McGonagall suddenly turned back.

"Mr. Von Draugr, I'd like you to join us as well—if Professor Snape doesn't mind."

Snape scoffed. "If this frail little idiot can manage to find his way there, be my guest."

…

Once again, they found themselves in Snape's office.

Only this time, the one being scrutinized wasn't Nolan.

It was the cat.

"I really don't see what everyone's so worked up about," Nolan muttered, prodding Mrs. Norris with his wand as if testing her rigidity. "It's just a cat."

"It's my cat!" Filch screeched, rounding on him furiously. "And it's been murdered! This was dark magic! I want justice! I know it was him—Potter! It had to be!"

Nolan raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware killing a cat required reparations. You lot are more sentimental than I thought. If someone killed your pet, shouldn't they just… pay you for it?"

Then he turned to Snape. "How much do cats go for these days?"

Snape's lips twitched, barely concealing his amusement. "Ten to twelve Galleons, I'd imagine."

Snape then turned to Harry, his expression cold and sharp. "Well, Potter? Do you intend to compensate Mr. Filch for his loss?"

"I—I didn't kill it!" Harry stammered, his eyes wide with panic. "We just found it like this! We didn't do anything!"

Snape sneered. "It seems our dear Mr. Potter has no intention of paying ten Galleons."

"Enough, Severus. And you as well, Mr. Von Draugr."

At last, Dumbledore spoke, his calm, measured voice immediately silencing the room.

"Though I enjoy your little theatrical performance, this is neither the time nor place for it."

He turned to Filch.

"Your cat is not dead."

Filch blinked. "Not dead? What do you mean, not dead?"

"The Headmaster is right," Nolan said, leaning in closer to inspect Mrs. Norris. He tapped her stiffened form with his wand, producing a hollow thunk.

"She's just been petrified."