The Curious Cat

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Chapter 17 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

Tonight, the castle walls felt unusually cold for June. Our fifth year was drawing to a close, slipping away faster than I could have imagined. During Transfiguration today, the professor had already burdened us with an entire semester's worth of homework, which only added to my growing pile of stress.

When the fates decided to ruin my evening, I had went straight for the common room to vent to Minerva and Hagrid.

I poured out every single worry, every nagging thought that had been plaguing me. The release was cathartic; it was as if I had lightened my burden just by sharing it. To my surprise, Minerva listened without interrupting, not even to lecture me as I half-expected she might. Hagrid, though mostly silent, proved to be an excellent adviser, his few words offering comfort I hadn't known I needed.

As evening faded into night, the sky deepened into a gloomy shade of blue, almost black. Reluctantly, we parted ways, though a part of me was glad that Minerva would still be with me, even if Hagrid had to leave.

Minerva was my dorm mate, and our friendship had blossomed from the first year when we were assigned to share a room. With Hagrid, our bond formed naturally after he saved me from a Chimaera during Care of Magical Creatures. The creature had nearly pounced on me, its venomous breath hot on my face, when Hagrid intervened just in time. Since then, he had become a trusted friend.

I lay down on my four-poster bed, glancing at the clock on my bedside table. Midnight had come and gone, yet sleep eluded me. It wasn't unusual—my thoughts often spiralled late into the night, replaying every detail of the day, especially my unsettling encounter with Malfoy. My mind refused to rest until it had exhausted every last drop of adrenaline.

After much tossing and turning, I decided I needed to do something about it. Only one place in the entire castle had ever succeeded in calming the anxious voices in my head. A quick glance at the clock told me it was already one in the morning.

Slowly, I lifted my blanket and slipped out of bed as quietly as I could manage. I looked over at Minerva, who was sleeping peacefully, her back to the bed, hands folded neatly on her stomach—she looked almost regal, even in sleep. A smile tugged at my lips. To this day, I still marvel at how I managed to befriend someone as loyal and brilliant as her.

I tiptoed to the door, pausing for a moment as I remembered I was a witch and could simply muffle any creaking sounds. With a wave of my wand, I silenced the hinges and slipped out into the corridor.

The castle was eerily peaceful at night. With everyone asleep, the halls were serene, almost otherworldly. I inhaled deeply, the cool air filling my lungs as I crept through the dimly lit corridors, my footsteps barely making a sound.

As I neared the library, my heart began to pound—part excitement, part nerves. It wouldn't be good if the caretaker,Apollyon Pringle, a stern and grumpy figure known for his harsh punishments, who patrolled the halls at night, caught me. But what was life without a bit of risk? If it meant being rewarded with sleep afterward, I was more than willing to indulge in some mischief.

Breaking the rules had always been a bit of fun for me. Though I'd never been caught, I enjoyed imagining the caretaker's frustration when he discovered that someone had stolen his spare set of keys to the locked doors in Hogwarts. I was never on his suspect list—Tom wasn't the only one who could play the façade game. I was just as skilled at it.

By day, I was known as the goody-two-shoes Gryffindor nerd, but only my closest friends knew the truth.

The library loomed before me, its grand doors inviting yet imposing. I slipped inside, relishing the familiar scent of parchment and ink that filled the air. The shelves towered above me, their shadows stretching long across the floor in the faint moonlight that filtered through the high windows. The library at night was a sanctuary, a place where my restless mind could finally find peace.

I wandered through the aisles, running my fingers along the spines of the books, until I found one that called to me. It was an old, worn tome on ancient runes, the cover faded and soft to the touch. As soon as I began to read, I felt my anxiety start to melt away, the words on the page soothing my mind.

Time slipped by unnoticed until I glanced up at the grandfather clock in the corner. To my shock, it was already two in the morning. An hour had passed in the blink of an eye. Panic surged through me as I scrambled to my feet—I hadn't meant to stay this long. If Minerva woke up and found me missing, she might very well alert the entire castle. And I didn't even want to think about what the caretaker—or worse, the ghosts like Peeves—might do if they found me here.

As I hurried towards the exit, a flicker of movement caught my eye. I froze, terror gripping me as I turned to see a shadowy silhouette lurking in the corner of the library. My heart skipped a beat—who could possibly be here at such a late hour? It couldn't be a professor; if it were, the lights would be on, and there would be no need for secrecy.

The figure remained still, shrouded in darkness, and a cold chill ran down my spine. I had to decide—face the unknown or risk being caught?

As I stood there, heart pounding and fear clawing at my insides, I couldn't help but remember the old saying: Curiosity killed the cat.

But I thought otherwise—if the cat had died, it hadn't been for nothing. It had known the truth, or perhaps, gained the satisfaction of knowing it.

So even as my heart thudded fiercely, warning me to turn back, I found myself walking closer to where the silhouette had been

My hand trembled slightly as I murmured, "Lumos," the soft light of my wand barely cutting through the thick darkness of the library.

I tilted my wand toward the restricted section, the ancient shelves towering above, casting ominous shadows that danced on the cold stone floor.

I'd visited the library many times, but hadn't ever went to restricted section. I could've but rather didn't as there was no need for me to do so so.

And now, as the dim light from my wand illuminated the room, curiosity gnawed at me, daring me to step further into the shadows and indulge in the forbidden knowledge hidden within these shelves.

No—it wasn't just the allure of ancient secrets that pulled me in. It was also the presence of someone who might be lurking within the darkness, someone whose silhouette had stirred something deep within me, a mix of fear and intrigue.

This definitely wasn't a good idea. But then again, when was the last time I'd had one?

But The Restricted Section was exactly as I'd heard in whispers—a place shrouded in an eerie stillness, with rows of dusty, forbidden books bound in cracked leather and parchment. The smell of aged paper and ink lingered in the air, and the moonlight filtering through the narrow, arched windows cast pale, silvery beams across the floor.

Chains hung loosely around certain volumes, as if even the books themselves were too dangerous to be left unguarded.I walked farther, my steps cautious, almost hesitant, as the heavy silence pressed against my ears.

Then, there it was again—the silhouette. It appeared almost ghostly, illuminated faintly by the moonlight that managed to seep through the gaps between the shelves.

The figure was barely visible, but I could make out in the darkness, the sharp lines of It's cheekbones, neatly combed dark hair, board shoulder and straight posture.

From It's features I assumed It was a he.

The figure stood with his back to me,attention focused intently on the book hr held—a heavy, ancient tome that looked like it had not been touched in centuries. The title was obscured by the way his long fingers held the book.

One moment, the stranger was there, It's presence almost entrancing in its stillness, and in the next, It vanished into the shadow.

I barely had time to react before I felt the cold press of a wand against my throat,hot and steady, brushed against the back of my neck. My heart skipped a beat, the hairs on my skin standing on end as I froze in place.

Panic surged through me, every instinct screaming to move, to fight back, to do anything—but I was rooted to the spot, paralysed by the sudden and overwhelming presence of fear, danger and anxiety. My thoughts spiralled, questioning how I had ended up here, how my quiet search for peace had led to this moment of utter vulnerability.

As fear clawed at me, there was a strange clarity that began to settle in—a grim understanding that I had gone too far, that this was the price of curiosity.

The memory of that old saying resurfaced in my mind, unbidden: Curiosity killed the cat.

It was a warning, a truth I had ignored in my determination to uncover what was here,lurking around the shadows in he restricted section of the library. And now, with a wand at my throat and the breath of my captor on my skin, it seemed more relevant than ever.

Yet even as the danger pressed in on me, there was a part of me that clung to the idea that some truths were worth the risk, that knowing—truly knowing—was worth any consequence.

I reminded myself, as my pulse pounded in my ears,

"But It was satisfaction that brought it back "