Chapter 269: Spiderweb Alley

London. The clouds that once hung over the Prime Minister’s window now floated above a filthy river.

The river wound its way, its banks overgrown with weeds and piled with trash. A massive chimney—remnant of a long-abandoned mill—rose high, dark and ominous.

Only the black water sobbed under the heavy rain; no sign of life stirred anywhere.

Suddenly, two figures appeared at the very end of Spiderweb Alley, as if materializing from thin air.

The rain seemed to flow around them, and most peculiarly, the boy in black robes held a wooden stick that glowed.

If anyone on the street had seen this, it would surely make the news. Fortunately, as previously noted, there was no life here at all.

“Go—”

Professor Snape led Xiang Xiang Xien, and they effortlessly found the buried potion at a marked spot.

Rain pattered around them; Professor Snape stood expressionless beside Xiang Xiang Xien, waiting for the next lightning strike.

A silver bolt split the sky; in that instant, Xiang Xiang Xien felt his heartbeat surge again.

He waved his wand, and the earth parted automatically; the buried potion had turned blood-red.

Halfway there.

Xiang Xiang Xien picked up the potion with quiet excitement, pointed his wand at his heart, and spoke the incantation:

“Amaro, Animo, Animado, Animagus!”

Then he swiftly drank the potion.

His heart pounded like a drum; he felt intense pain as two fierce heartbeats battled for dominance.

It was as if another heartbeat had awakened—and now it fought the first for control of his body.

The process was agonizing and prolonged, for something fundamental was changing, carried by the second heartbeat, forcing the wizard into another form.

He gritted his teeth, recalling Professor McGonagall’s words:

“You must show no fear! It is too late to escape the transformation now!”

In the storm, Professor Snape’s long robe flapped wildly; his expression shifted repeatedly as he watched Xiang Xiang Xien’s pale face, his instinctive panic, and the growing abnormality in his form.

He frowned uneasily, a voice inside him urging—do something.

“I’m—”

He moved closer, speaking in a low, hoarse voice words he had once scorned as nonsense.

Xiang Xiang Xien didn’t hear him; his entire focus was drawn to animals—faint, blurred outlines, the clearest of which was a black cat.

It was a black cat, yet far larger than ordinary ones, radiating an uncanny liveliness.

The first transformation had begun, leaving Xiang Xiang Xien deeply unsettled. His clothes and shoes dissolved into his skin, becoming fur or claws.

Animal instincts surged, desperate to dominate him, driving him toward foolish acts—running wildly, charging into walls.

The instinct was too strong; even Xiang Xiang Xien couldn’t control himself. In one second, he chose between running and crashing into a wall.

The black cat had just extended its paw when a pair of large hands seized it.

“Such a crude grasp of Transfiguration… How could Minerva McGonagall let you attempt this?!”

He roared, as if venting his inner unease.

As his feet left the ground, the cat’s head drooped; his reason slowly returned.

Something was deeply wrong—he couldn’t properly control his body, and even reversing the transformation proved difficult.

The black cat stared into the sink, where green light shimmered in the reflection.

Then he looked at Professor Snape, who seemed unsure what to do next. Suddenly, the cat smelled the stale, heavy odor of rusted metal, then it shifted to the fresh scent of dew and grass.

Xiang Xiang Xien confirmed it: his Animagus form was more than just a cat—it likely carried traits of a Catling.

As for why… perhaps he’d eaten too many Catling cookies, his Catling consciousness had lingered too long and grown too strong; or perhaps he’d performed too many Catling alchemy rituals, unconsciously forging a new path in Transfiguration…

Xiang Xiang Xien noted all these soul-transformation details, planning to ask Professor Professor Tela.

But regardless, it was certainly better than an ordinary black cat.

He wasn’t sure if he simply hadn’t adapted yet, but for now, he had no innate pathfinding ability.

Perhaps fearing he’d run off again, Snape kept his eyes locked on him until they entered the room—his gaze never wavered.

Inside the two-story building at the end of Spiderweb Alley lay a dim, cramped parlor, furnished with worn-out furniture.

A candlelit lamp hung from the ceiling, and walls lined with bookshelves surrounded the room. One hidden door led to a narrow staircase upstairs; another opened into a small chamber.

There were no obvious doors here; upon entering, Xiang Xiang Xien felt as if he’d stepped into a padded cell. Years of emptiness had left the place covered in spiderwebs.

The fireplace blazed to life; the black cat leapt with a distance no ordinary cat could manage, landing on the hearth’s edge and shaking off raindrops from its fur.

Severus Snape got drenched, but he gave the warming cat a cold glance, let out a heavy grunt, and said nothing.

Streetlights faded and dimmed; night lighting was weak. The downpour washed street trash into the river, making it even filthier.

Yet inside the cramped parlor, the fire glowed warmly.

Severus Snape read a book, his peripheral vision constantly tracking the black cat darting among the shelves.

It seemed utterly unfamiliar with its own body, practicing in every possible way.

For instance, if it didn’t look at its tail, the tail wouldn’t move; when it used its whiskers to sense the fireplace’s heat, it nearly burned them off…

There were too many such incidents.

Snape sipped his steaming coffee. Outside, two figures had appeared.

Only half an hour had passed, yet Professor McGonagall, frantic, and Dumbledore, beaming, had both arrived.

The doorbell rang.

Dumbledore smiled warmly at Snape as he opened the door:

“Severus, what do you think of the black cat? My taste isn’t too bad, is it?”

Before the old wizard finished speaking, the door slammed shut with a bang.

“Oh, people always find it hard to admit when someone else is right, aren’t they, Minerva?”

He asked, his expression unchanged, still smiling.

Not long after…

Spiderweb Alley experienced rare moments of bustle—the parlor now held several more figures.

Soft voices murmured continuously, masking the storm’s fury outside.

The black cat sat by the fireplace; after entering, Professor McGonagall conjured a soft cushion with a wave of her wand.

The cat sat upon it, as if deep in thought.