A Nundu for A Pet

Hello, Drinor here. I'm happy to publish a new Chapter of A Nundu for A Pet.

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Chapter 19 (The Impossible Familiar), Chapter 20 (Do you want to be a Magizoologist?), Chapter 21 (Runes and Shadows), Chapter 22 (The Bridge Between Worlds), Chapter 23 (A Nundu's Gift), Chapter 24 (A Grand Prank), Chapter 25 (First Year Ends), Chapter 26 (Magic & Politics), Chapter 27 (Letters, Contracts, and Other Complications), Chapter 28 (When Loves Makes Home), Chapter 29 (A Nundu in France), and Chapter 30 (The Minister's Request) are already available for Patrons.

Harry woke up with a groan, the dull throb in his head pulsating with each beat of his heart. His entire body felt heavier than ever before, as if he had been drained of every ounce of energy. The familiar sterile scent of potions and herbs tickled his nose, and it didn't take him long to recognize the surroundings—the Hospital Wing.

He shifted slightly, wincing as a sharp ache flared through his limbs. Everything hurt. His head spun, his muscles screamed, and the exhaustion weighed down on him like a crushing blanket. But despite the overwhelming fatigue, the memories rushed back to him in a flood—Voldemort, the battle, Itisa.

Itisa.

Harry's heart raced, and he forced himself to sit up, the action causing his head to spin. "Itisa," he croaked, his voice hoarse and strained. He tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed.

But before he could stand, a voice—calm, firm, and unfamiliar—cut through the air.

"Mister Potter."

Harry froze. That voice wasn't Madam Pomfrey, nor was it anyone he had expected to hear. Slowly, he turned his head toward the source of the voice and saw two figures sitting beside his bed, their gazes fixed on him.

One was a tall woman with long, bright crimson hair, sharp eyes behind her square glasses, and a stern expression; her face reminded him of Susan, an older one.

The other figure was even more intimidating—a grizzled man with a heavily scarred face, one magical eye swirling in its socket, and the other eye narrowed with suspicion. The woman was Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the man beside her was unmistakable—Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody.

Both were sitting at his bedside, their gazes narrowing as they observed him carefully. Harry's heart skipped a beat. This was not a casual visit.

"Mister Potter, we need you to answer some questions,"

"Itisa?" Harry called out immediately, trying to sit up despite his body's protests.

"Your... cat is fine," Amelia said, her slight pause making Harry's stomach twist. "She's with Professor Dumbledore."

Harry studied their faces carefully. Amelia's expression was neutral, but there was something in her eyes that made Harry uneasy. Mad-Eye Moody lounged in his chair with deceptive casualness, his magical eye whirring as it fixed unnervingly on Harry.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Potter?" Amelia asked formally.

Harry couldn't resist. "Oh, just wonderful. Nothing like a duel with a Dark Lord to really get the blood pumping. I should make it a weekly thing, really. Perhaps we could schedule the next one?"

Amelia's lips thinned disapprovingly. "This is a serious matter, Mr. Potter."

"Really? I hadn't noticed when Voldemort was trying to kill me," Harry replied dryly. He noticed that neither of them flinched at the name, unlike most of the wizarding world. Interesting.

Mad-Eye's scarred face twisted into what might have been a smirk. "Cheeky little blighter, aren't you?"

"I try my best," Harry said, then winced as he shifted position. "So, what happened to Professor Quirrell and his... passenger?"

"That's what we'd like to know," Moody growled, his magical eye boring into Harry. "What exactly did you do to him?"

Harry met the auror's gaze steadily. "I used a burning spell. Blue flames. He didn't seem to appreciate it much."

"Blue flames?" Amelia's eyebrow rose. "That's advanced magic for a first-year student."

"Well, I didn't exactly have time to flip through 'Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1' while dodging Unforgivable Curses," Harry pointed out.

"About that," Amelia leaned forward slightly. "Perhaps you could explain exactly what happened yesterday, and how you came to be in that classroom with Professor Quirrell?"

Harry took a deep breath, organizing his thoughts. "I was heading back to my common room after dinner when Professor Quirrell told me he wanted to speak with me. He is a Professor so I decided to see what he wanted."

"And then?" Moody prompted, both eyes now fixed on Harry.

"He tried to attack me, but I was able to dodge his spell, and then Professor Quirrell revealed his second uglier face. Then Voldemort started monologuing about how he was going to kill me. He seemed to have practiced it." Harry's casual tone belied the memory of genuine fear he'd felt. "He started throwing curses at me, including the Killing Curse. I defended myself."

"With blue flames," Amelia stated.

"Among other things," Harry nodded. "I used whatever spells I could think of. Stupefy, Expulso, Confringo. He blocked most of them."

"Most eleven-year-olds don't know those spells," Moody observed.

"Most eleven-year-olds don't have Dark Lords trying to kill them," Harry countered. "I like to be prepared."

"And where exactly did you learn these spells?" Amelia asked.

"Books, mostly. And Tonks has been helping me practice defensive spells."

"Nymphadora?" Amelia's expression softened slightly. "Yes, Susan's mentioned you two are friends."

"She's brilliant," Harry said honestly. "She's helped me a lot this year."

"And after the blue flames?" Moody pressed, getting them back on track.

Harry's expression darkened. "Voldemort used Fiendfyre. The entire room was filled with cursed fire. I thought..." he trailed off, remembering the terror of that moment. "I thought I was going to die."

"Yet here you are," Moody said, his magical eye spinning wildly. "How did you survive?"

Harry chose his words carefully. "I managed to dodge the worst of it. Then there was an explosion, and everything went dark. Next thing I knew, I woke up here."

Amelia and Moody exchanged a look that Harry couldn't quite interpret.

"Professor Quirrell's body was found," Amelia said slowly. "Or what was left of it. Completely incinerated, but not by Fiendfyre. The magical signature was... different. Unlike anything we've seen before."

Harry kept his face carefully neutral. "I told you, I used blue flames."

"Blue flames don't do that kind of damage," Moody growled. "And they don't leave traces of unusual magic."

Harry's heart skipped a beat, but he maintained his composure. "Unusual magic? I don't know anything about that. I just did what I could to survive."

"Mr. Potter," Amelia said, her voice gentler now. "If there's anything else you can tell us about what happened in that room..."

"I've told you everything I remember," Harry said firmly. "It was chaotic, and I was fighting for my life. Some details might be fuzzy."

Moody's magical eye fixed on him again, but Harry met his gaze steadily. He'd learned occlumency basics from his books, and while he wasn't particularly skilled at it yet, he knew enough to maintain eye contact without giving anything away.

"There's something else we need to discuss," Amelia said, pulling out a familiar object from her robes. Harry's eyes lit up at the sight of his talisman.

"Oh good, you found it," Harry said, reaching for it. "I was worried it got destroyed in the fight."

Amelia handed it over, but her expression was curious. "Susan mentioned you'd been making these. She was quite impressed."

"As was I when I examined it," Moody growled, his magical eye fixed on the talisman. "Interesting piece of work for a first-year. Where'd you learn to make something like that?"

Harry turned the talisman over in his hands, checking for damage. "Books, mostly. Trial and error. Lots of error, actually. You should have seen my first attempts - one of them turned into a rubber chicken."

"A rubber chicken?" Amelia raised an eyebrow.

"Don't ask," Harry shuddered. "I still don't know how that happened."

"What exactly does it do?" Moody asked, leaning forward with interest.

Harry held up the talisman. "It needs to be activated with magic from a wand first. Once it's active, it can deflect weak spells back at the caster - but only if the talisman is facing the spell directly. Kind of like a tiny shield."

"And that's how you knew Quirrell was behind you?" Amelia asked.

"Sort of," Harry replied. "It also makes a warning sound when it detects spells being cast nearby. That's actually how I noticed something was wrong. Quirrell tried to hex me from behind, but the talisman started humming. Gave me just enough time to dodge."

"Clever," Moody nodded approvingly. "Constant vigilance in charm form."

"That's actually what gave me the idea," Harry admitted. "Lady Andromeda and Mister Ted told me the many times you used to say that line during the war."

Moody's scarred face twisted into what might have been a smile. "Good to know someone's listening. Speaking of vigilance - want to tell us more about that fight? The damage to that classroom was... extensive."

"That's putting it mildly," Harry muttered. "It got pretty intense. Especially when he started throwing Unforgivables around like party favors."

"Which ones?" Amelia asked sharply.

"Cruciatus, Imperius, and the killing curse," Harry counted off on his fingers. "The full set. I think he was going for some kind of evil bingo."

"This isn't a joke, Potter," Moody growled, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Trust me, I know," Harry's expression grew serious. "When the Fiendfyre started, I thought... well, I've never been so scared in my life. They were taking shapes - serpents, chimeras, dragons. It was like every nightmare I've ever had came to life at once."

"Yet you survived," Amelia observed. "How exactly did you manage that?"

"I told you. I got lucky. The flames were so intense they started affecting the castle's structure. There was an explosion, and part of the ceiling collapsed. After that... it's kind of a blur."

"Quite a blur," Moody's magical eye spun rapidly. "Considering what we found in that room."

"What did you find?" Harry asked, genuinely curious about what the aftermath looked like.

"Besides Quirrell's remains?" Moody leaned back. "Scorch marks unlike anything I've seen in forty years as an Auror. Magical residue that made my eye spin like a top. And traces of power that shouldn't exist there."

"Maybe Hogwarts' own magic interfered?" Harry suggested innocently. "The castle is pretty ancient."

"Maybe," Moody said, in a tone that suggested he didn't believe that for a second. "Or maybe there's something else you're not telling us."

"I've told you everything I remember," Harry said firmly, meeting Moody's gaze. "It was chaos in there. I was fighting for my life against a Dark Lord with a face on the back of someone's head. Excuse me if some of the details are a bit fuzzy."

Amelia and Moody exchanged another look, and Harry had the distinct impression they were having an entire conversation without words.

"Very well," Amelia said finally. "Keep the talisman close, Mr. Potter. Something tells me you might need it again."

"Thanks," Harry said, slipping the talisman under his pillow. "I don't suppose you found my wand too?"

"On your bedside table," Moody nodded toward it. "Interesting core you've got there. Never seen one quite like it, and I don't think it was happy when I tried to hold it."

Harry's hand closed around his wand, feeling the familiar warmth. "Ollivander said it was unique."

"I bet he did," Moody muttered, standing up. "Rest up, Potter. And remember - "

"Constant vigilance," Harry finished with him, managing a small grin.

As they turned to leave, Harry called out, "Could you tell Itisa I'm okay? She worries."

"Your cat?" Amelia asked, that slight pause before the word 'cat' present again.

"Yeah," Harry said. "My cat."

"That's quite a cat you've got there, Potter," he said, his magical eye swiveling to look through the wall in the direction of Dumbledore's office. "Never seen one quite like it."

Harry's heart nearly stopped, but he forced himself to shrug casually. "She's special."

"That she is," Moody agreed, his scarred face unreadable. Then he stumped away after Amelia, leaving Harry alone with his racing thoughts.

As soon as they were gone, Harry sank back into his pillows, exhausted. He needed to talk to Dumbledore, needed to know if Itisa was really okay, needed to find out how much Moody and Amelia suspected.

Amelia and Mad-Eye

As Amelia and Mad-Eye exited the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey immediately intercepted them, her expression stern and disapproving.

"I hope you're quite finished interrogating my patient," she said crisply. "The boy needs rest, not an Auror inquisition."

"We're done for now, Poppy," Amelia assured her diplomatically.

Before Madam Pomfrey could respond, a blur of bushy brown hair rushed past them, heading straight for Harry's bed. Moody's magical eye swiveled to track the girl's progress while his normal eye caught sight of another approaching figure.

Susan Bones hurried toward her aunt, her auburn hair swaying with each step. "Auntie! Is Harry okay? He's not in trouble, is he?"

Amelia's expression softened slightly as she looked at her niece. "Mr. Potter is... recovering. As for trouble..." she paused thoughtfully. "Let's just say there are many questions, but also many reasons to be impressed."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Susan's brow furrowed.

"It means go see your friend," Amelia said, giving her niece a gentle push toward the hospital wing entrance. "He could probably use some company his own age."

As Susan headed inside, Moody's magical eye caught movement from the corridor. A tall girl with shocking pink hair was leaning against the wall, studying him with undisguised interest.

"Something caught your eye, lass?" Moody growled.

Nymphadora Tonks opened her mouth, seemed to think better of whatever she was going to say, and then squared her shoulders. "I don't know what you two think Harry did," she said firmly, "but he fought You-Know-Who. By himself. That has to count for something."

"And how do you know what we're thinking?" Moody challenged, both eyes now fixed on her.

"Because I know that look," Tonks replied. "But Harry's a good kid. Whatever happened in that room..." she trailed off, her eyes flickering briefly toward Dumbledore's office. "Well, maybe sometimes we don't need all the answers."

With that cryptic statement, she strode past them into the hospital wing, her hair shifting to a warm honey-brown as she went.

"Interesting group of friends Potter's got," Moody commented as they headed toward Dumbledore's office.

"Indeed," Amelia agreed. "Though perhaps not surprising, given the circumstances."

They walked in silence for a moment before Moody spoke again. "That 'cat' of his."

"Yes," Amelia's hand unconsciously touched her monocle. "I've never seen anything quite like it."

"Neither has my eye," Moody growled. "And it's seen plenty."

"What exactly did you see?"

"Power," Moody said simply. "The kind that makes ancient artifacts look like children's toys. Whatever that creature is, it's not just a cat."

"Susan mentioned it once," Amelia recalled. "Said it was unusually intelligent, even for a magical familiar. But she didn't seem to notice anything... extraordinary about it."

"Because it doesn't want to be noticed," Moody's magical eye spun rapidly. "Clever bit of magic there. Most people see exactly what they expect to see - just a cat. But if you know what to look for..."

"The magical signature in that classroom," Amelia said slowly. "The unusual traces..."

"Weren't from Potter," Moody finished. "Talented as the boy is, he's not channeling that kind of magic. But that 'cat' of his..."

They reached the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office. Amelia spoke the password ("Pepper Imps"), and they ascended the rotating staircase.

"The question is," Amelia continued their conversation, "what exactly is Albus doing harboring such a creature in a school full of children?"

"Better question might be why such a creature is playing house cat for an eleven-year-old boy," Moody countered.

They reached the office door, but before either could knock, Dumbledore's voice called out, "Come in, Amelia, Alastor."

They entered to find Dumbledore seated behind his desk, and curled up on a nearby cushion was the subject of their discussion. The "cat" opened one eye to regard them lazily, but both Aurors could feel the weight of its assessment.

"I trust young Harry is recovering well?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly.

"Well enough to be quite cheeky about the whole affair," Amelia replied dryly.

"Ah, yes, he does have rather a unique perspective on life-threatening situations," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Though perhaps that's to be expected, given his... unusual circumstances."

"Speaking of unusual circumstances," Moody's magical eye fixed on the "cat," which had now opened both eyes and was watching them with unmistakable intelligence. "Care to explain what kind of creature you've got masquerading as a house pet, Albus?"

"Itisa is exactly what she appears to be," Dumbledore said carefully. "A loyal companion to young Harry."

"But not a cat," Amelia pressed.

"That rather depends on one's definition of 'cat,' doesn't it?" Dumbledore smiled serenely. "She is feline in nature, certainly."

"Cut the games, Albus," Moody growled. "That creature's magical signature nearly broke my eye. Whatever it is, it's powerful enough to leave traces of magic in its wake. That's not something you can just explain away with riddles."

The "cat" - Itisa - stood and stretched, and for a moment, both Aurors could have sworn they saw something else, something much larger and more magnificent, overlaid on her form. Then she was just a cat again, watching them with those too-intelligent eyes.

"Some mysteries," Dumbledore said softly, "are better left unexplored. Particularly when their revelation might cause more harm than good."

"You're asking us to ignore something potentially dangerous in a school full of children," Amelia said.

"I'm asking you to trust that I would never allow anything truly dangerous to threaten my students," Dumbledore corrected. "Itisa has been here since the start of term, and the only harm she's done was to a Dark Lord who threatened her companion."

"So you admit she was involved in what happened to Quirrell," Moody's eye spun triumphantly.

"I admit nothing," Dumbledore smiled. "Merely pointing out that if one were looking for evidence of danger, that particular incident rather proves the opposite, don't you think?"

"That... cat," Moody began, his magical eye fixed on Itisa. "What exactly is she?"

"Her name is Itisa," Dumbledore corrected gently, "and as I said, she is exactly what she appears to be."

A soft chuckle escaped Moody's scarred lips. "'Free Spirit,' eh? Fitting name for something that's clearly more than it seems."

"You recognize the meaning?" Dumbledore's eyebrows raised slightly.

"I've picked up a few languages over the years," Moody growled. "Ancient ones especially. Useful for curse-breaking."

"Albus," Amelia interjected, her tone serious, "we're talking about a school full of children. Whatever that creature is—"

"Itisa," Dumbledore corrected again, a slight edge creeping into his voice despite his maintained smile.

"Whatever Itisa is," Amelia continued, "you're potentially putting every student at risk by harboring her here. We've seen the magical traces she leaves behind. That kind of power—"

"Is precisely why she poses no threat," Dumbledore interrupted, his blue eyes no longer twinkling. "Tell me, Amelia, in all your years as Head of Magical Law Enforcement, have you ever known a truly powerful being to need to demonstrate its power needlessly?"

"That's not the point—"

"I rather think it is," Dumbledore stood slowly, and though his voice remained calm, there was an edge. "You speak of my students' safety as though I haven't spent decades protecting them. As though I would allow any genuine threat within these walls."

Moody's eye swiveled between Itisa and Dumbledore. "She's not like anything in our records, Albus. Not a kneazle, not a magical familiar of any known type.—"

"Have you considered that power and danger are not necessarily synonymous?"

"We've considered a lot of possibilities," Amelia said. "Though I must admit, despite how powerful she appeared to be in that moment, we ruled out some of the more dangerous magical creatures. A Nundu, for instance—"

A strange sound came from Itisa, almost like a snort.

"—would be far too aggressive," Amelia continued. "They're hostile even to their own young. Whatever Itisa is, she's clearly capable of forming bonds, of showing affection. That level of socialization rules out most of the more dangerous magical creatures we know of."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore sat back down, stroking his beard thoughtfully, "that should tell you something about the nature of your assumptions regarding what is and isn't dangerous."

"Meaning?" Moody prompted.

"Meaning," Dumbledore's voice took on a teaching tone, "that you're so focused on categorizing and classifying what Itisa might be, you're missing what she demonstrably is: a protective companion who has shown nothing but dedication to young Harry's wellbeing."

"A companion with enough power to leave magic traces," Moody pointed out.

"Indeed," Dumbledore's eyes flickered to Itisa, who had rolled onto her back in what appeared to be a deliberately casual display of unconcern. "And yet she chooses to spend her days napping in the sun and following an eleven-year-old boy to his classes. Curious behavior for something you consider so dangerous, wouldn't you say?"

"But—" Amelia began.

"Let me be very clear," Dumbledore's voice grew serious, though his expression remained pleasant. "I have experience with dangerous people and beings. When I tell you Itisa poses no threat to my students, I am not speaking from naive optimism but from careful observation and deep understanding."

He paused, his eyes meeting each of theirs in turn. "However, I will add this: it is generally wiser to leave a lion at peace than to prod it with a stick simply to confirm it has teeth."

Itisa chose that moment to stretch and yawn, displaying a rather impressive set of teeth before settling back into what appeared to be a nap. The casualness of the display somehow made it all the more pointed.

"Are you threatening us, Albus?" Amelia asked quietly.

"My dear Amelia," Dumbledore smiled benignly, "I am merely offering friendly advice about the wisdom of leaving well enough alone. After all, Itisa has been here for months without incident. The only time she's displayed any aggression was in defense of a student against a legitimate threat. One might argue she's already proven herself more protective of the children than dangerous to them."

Moody's magical eye spun rapidly. "And if we decide this needs further investigation?"

"Then I would remind you that Hogwarts operates under certain autonomous rights," Dumbledore replied pleasantly. "And that attempting to interfere with a student's familiar without due cause could lead to some rather awkward legal complications. I'm sure Amelia can elaborate on the relevant statutes."

"Albus," Amelia's voice softened slightly, "I have nothing against Potter. The boy clearly has a good heart, and he's shown remarkable courage. But my duty is to ensure everyone's safety. Surely you understand that?"

Dumbledore's expression gentled as he regarded her. "I understand completely, Amelia. Your niece is here, after all. It's natural for you to be concerned." He leaned forward, his blue eyes kind but firm. "But I assure you, Itisa poses no threat to Susan or any other student. In fact, her presence here has already saved at least one young life."

"Speaking of threats," Moody growled, "let's talk about your professor, Albus. You hired a man who had the Dark Lord stuck to the back of his head. Every student in this school could have been killed!"

A flash of genuine pain crossed Dumbledore's features. "Quirinus taught here for a year before his... unfortunate encounter during his sabbatical. He showed no signs of dark magic, no indication of what he would become." His shoulders sagged slightly. "However, you are correct, Alastor. As headmaster, I should have been more vigilant. The fact that it came down to Harry facing him..." He shook his head. "That responsibility lies with me."

"Well, at least we agree on something," Amelia said dryly. She straightened her monocle and fixed Dumbledore with a determined look. "I'm going to hire a Magizoologist to examine Itisa. We need to know exactly what we're dealing with."

To their surprise, Dumbledore's eyes began twinkling again, and a small smirk played at the corners of his mouth. "Ah, I'm afraid I've already taken that liberty."

Moody's magical eye spun rapidly. "Who?"

"The best in the world," Dumbledore replied, clearly enjoying himself. "Newt Scamander will be arriving shortly to assist us in understanding our unique friend here."

Itisa's ears perked up at this, and she tilted her head, seeming almost amused.

"Scamander?" Amelia's eyebrows shot up. "You actually got Newt Scamander to come out of retirement?"

"He was quite intrigued by my description," Dumbledore nodded. "He's quite excited about the prospect."

"And what exactly did you tell him?" Moody asked suspiciously.

"Only that we have a rather remarkable familiar who appears to be a cat but demonstrates some rather... unique qualities." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Newt has always enjoyed a good mystery, particularly when it involves a creature that defies conventional classification."

"And when will he arrive?" Amelia pressed.

"Very soon," Dumbledore replied. "He's currently wrapping up some research in New Zealand, I believe. Something about a colony of modified Diricawls."

Moody snorted. "Convenient timing."

"Isn't it?" Dumbledore agreed cheerfully. "Now, perhaps we can all agree to wait for Newt's expertise before making any hasty decisions? After all, if anyone can help us understand Itisa's true nature, it would be the man who wrote the definitive text on magical creatures."

Amelia and Moody exchanged glances again. Having Newt Scamander involved changed things. His reputation was unimpeachable, and his expertise unmatched.

"Fine," Amelia conceded. "We'll wait for Scamander's assessment. But this isn't over, Albus."

"Of course not," Dumbledore agreed amiably. "Though I suspect Newt's findings will prove quite... illuminating. Don't you think so, Itisa?"

The "cat" in question merely yawned and stretched, but there was something distinctly smug about her expression.

"One more thing," Moody growled. "If Scamander determines she's dangerous—"

"Then we will deal with that situation appropriately," Dumbledore cut him off, his voice firm. "But I think you'll find that Newt has a rather more nuanced view of what constitutes 'dangerous' than most. After all, this is the man who tried to raise a Nundu from infancy."

Itisa made that strange snorting sound again, and for a moment, both Aurors could have sworn she was laughing.

"Until then," Dumbledore continued, "I suggest we all focus on more pressing matters. Like ensuring young Harry actually gets the rest Poppy prescribed, rather than entertaining a constant stream of visitors?"

Harry Potter

"Harry!" Hermione's voice rang out as she practically flew to his bedside, enveloping him in a crushing hug. "Are you alright? What happened? We were so worried!"

Before Harry could even draw breath to respond, another set of arms wrapped around him as Susan joined the group hug. "Don't you ever scare us like that again!"

A loud, deliberate whistle cut through the air. The three turned to see Tonks leaning against the doorframe, a mischievous grin on her face.

"Well, well, well," she drawled, her hair shifting to a teasing pink. "Not even twelve and already got two lovely witches fighting over you, Potter? You work fast!"

"Tonks!" Hermione and Susan squeaked simultaneously, jumping back from Harry as their faces turned brilliant shades of red.

Harry decided to play along. He stretched dramatically and put his hands behind his head with an exaggerated smirk. "What can I say? Must be my natural charm and heroic personality."

"Oh, you!" Susan swatted his arm playfully.

"Prat," Hermione added, giving him a gentle shove, though she was fighting back a smile.

"Don't forget your dashing good looks and that messy hair that just screams 'trouble'," Tonks winked, making Harry's hair momentarily match his own.

"The girls just can't resist it," Harry ran a hand through his hair in an overdramatic impression of preening, causing all three girls to burst out laughing.

Tonks's expression suddenly turned more serious. "Speaking of irresistible creatures, where's your furry shadow? I haven't seen Itisa around."

Harry's playful demeanor vanished instantly. "She's with Dumbledore," he frowned, pushing himself up from the bed. "I need to—"

His legs wobbled as soon as he tried to put weight on them, and both Hermione and Susan rushed to steady him.

"You need to stay in bed!" Hermione insisted.

"You're exhausted, Harry," Susan added firmly. "Whatever happened with Quirrell took a lot out of you."

"I don't care," Harry argued, though he was already breathing heavily from just trying to stand. "I need to make sure Itisa is—"

The hospital wing door burst open, and a familiar blur shot across the room. Itisa launched herself directly into Harry's arms, nearly knocking him back onto the bed. He caught her, hugging her tightly as she pressed her head against his chest, purring loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I missed you too, girl," Harry murmured into her fur, his voice thick with emotion. "Are you okay? They didn't bother you too much, did they?"

Itisa pulled back just enough to give him a look that clearly said, 'Please, as if they could.'

"Merlin's pants," Tonks breathed, staring at the reunion with wide eyes. "I've never seen a familiar bond that strong before."

"That's because they're not just familiar and wizard," Hermione said softly. "They're family."

Susan nodded in agreement, watching as Harry checked Itisa over for any signs of distress, while the cat did the same to him, both of them seemingly forgetting anyone else was in the room.

"Well," Tonks grinned, her hair shifting to a warm golden color, "I guess we know who the real love of Harry's life is."

"Oh, definitely," Susan laughed. "We never stood a chance against those purrs and whiskers."

"Speaking of which," Hermione added with a smirk, "Itisa's the only girl Harry's allowed to cuddle with right now. He needs rest!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Harry mock saluted, finally settling back into bed with Itisa curled up protectively against his side. "Though I notice you're not chasing Tonks out."

"That's because I'm clearly here in an official capacity," Tonks said with exaggerated dignity, then ruined it by morphing her nose into a cat's nose and whiskers. "See? Professional supervision."

"Professional troublemaker, more like," Susan giggled.

"I prefer 'chaos consultant,'" Tonks corrected primly, making her hair cycle through rainbow colors.

Harry laughed, then yawned widely.

"Alright, that's our cue," Hermione said softly. "Come on, let's let them rest."

"We'll come back later," Susan promised, patting Harry's foot.

"Bring snacks!" Harry called after them sleepily.

"Bring snacks, he says," Tonks chuckled as they headed for the door. "Boy faces down a Dark Lord and his first coherent request is for snacks."

Once he was alone, he sat up, and turned to look at his friend. Harry's eyes shifted, the green darkening and pupils elongating into slits. When he spoke, his voice took on a strange quality - deeper, with an undertone that seemed to vibrate in the air like a distant growl.

"Did they figure anything out?" The words came out with a subtle hiss, though still clearly English. Itisa merely gave him a look that somehow managed to convey both amusement and exasperation, clearly unable to respond verbally despite his changed eyes.

A sudden crackle of electricity filled the air, and a brilliant flash of white-blue lightning streaked through the room. When it faded, Hedwig materialized in its wake, her feathers still crackling with energy.

"Hedwig!" Harry's voice returned to normal as he greeted his other companion. She landed on his right shoulder, preening his hair affectionately.

Itisa, from her position on Harry's left shoulder, gave Hedwig a look that could only be described as long-suffering annoyance. Hedwig returned the look with equal measure.

The sound of slow clapping made all three turn toward the door. An elderly man stood there, his silver hair wild and unkempt, but his eyes bright with fascination and warmth. He was wearing a blue coat that had clearly seen better days, covered in various patches and scorch marks.

"Remarkable," he said softly, closing the door behind him. He pulled out his wand and cast a quick silencing charm before continuing. "Simply remarkable. It's been, oh, must be ten years since I've last seen a Stormbird."

"You know Hedwig is not just an owl?" Harry asked carefully.

"No more than your other friend is 'just a cat,'" the man's eyes twinkled as he glanced at Itisa, who met his gaze. "Stormbirds are incredibly rare magical creatures. They're often mistaken for thunderbirds, but they're actually quite different. More solitary, for one thing, and far more selective about their companions."

Hedwig puffed up proudly at this description, while Itisa rolled her eyes in a remarkably human gesture.

Harry tensed instinctively when the man's gaze lingered on Itisa. But to his surprise, Itisa remained perfectly calm, almost... interested in the stranger. It was so unlike her usual wary behavior with new people that it made Harry take a closer look at their visitor.

Those eyes... he knew those eyes. He'd spent countless hours staring at them on the cover of his favorite book, the one he'd read over and over.

"You're THE Newt Scamander!" Harry nearly shouted, then quickly lowered his voice, remembering they were in the hospital wing.

The old man chuckled warmly, his weathered face crinkling with amusement as he stepped forward, his battered leather briefcase swinging gently at his side. "That would be me," he said, stroking his short white beard thoughtfully. "But please, call me Newt. Being called 'Mr. Scamander' makes me feel old."

Harry couldn't help but grin at that. Here was the man who'd written the book he'd practically memorized, the wizard who'd documented more magical creatures than anyone in history, standing right in front of him.

Newt's eyes twinkled as he regarded Harry, a knowing smile playing at his lips. "And you," he said softly, "are Harry Potter. The boy with a Nundu."

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