Chapter 25

Throughout the entire Divination class, Harry barely heard a word; his mind was entirely occupied with Puxu. Indeed, this cat had been impossibly clever from the start, and Hagrid had said the smuggler was “eager to get rid of it.”

From this perspective, he even suspected the smuggler hadn’t been eager to offload the dragon egg—but Puxu. Perhaps he had kidnapped a child, only to accidentally discover the boy was a natural Animagus, a revelation that must have stunned him, prompting him to rush to dispose of the child.

Harry’s young mind couldn’t conjure anything too dark, but even the parts he could imagine filled him with deep sorrow.

As soon as class ended, Harry hurried back to his dormitory and found Puxu still in cat form. He slipped on his Invisibility Cloak and carried the cat to a deserted place.

It was the same abandoned classroom where he’d once found the Mirror of Erised; since the mirror had been removed, it had returned to its cold, empty state. Harry set down the cloak and said to Puxu, “I know you understand. Turn back into a human. I want to talk to you.”

Puxu didn’t pretend to be pitiful as he usually did—he transformed into human form with crisp efficiency, muttering irritably, “Caught by Scarhead, meow.”

Hearing the nickname “Scarhead,” Harry found it amusing, but he feigned anger: “I’m not Scarhead. I’m Harry. Harry Potter.”

“I remember. Scarhead’s name is Harry Potter.” Puxu remained naked; as he spoke, Harry draped a robe over him. “I don’t need a name. I don’t want clothes.”

“Puxu, I don’t know whether your parents…”

“I have no parents, and I don’t care. I’m just a different kind of cat.”

Harry vaguely sensed this situation was complicated—Puxu seemed to have received no human education at all, yet his English was perfectly fluent.

“I know,” Puxu said dismissively. “You hairless creatures call yourselves humans. I’m not human. I’m just a cat who can turn human. I know what you’re going to say. Everyone says the same thing.”

“So you mean you want to stay a cat, and I pretend I don’t know you can transform?” Harry ventured.

“Exactly! Plenty of dried fish!” Puxu declared proudly. “And if you tell the adults, I’ll run away. No one can catch Puxu!”

When Harry returned to the dormitory, Puxu had already turned back into a cat, curled quietly in Harry’s arms. Ron noticed his gloomy expression and asked worriedly what was wrong.

“Puxu says he wants to stay a cat forever,” Harry said anxiously. “And he won’t let me tell the professors.”

“That’s fine,” Ron said. “I like Puxu. He’s well-behaved and cute, and he’s been nice to Scabbers. You can keep him.”

“But…” Harry started to speak, then remembered Puxu was still in his arms—and understood he understood English—so he changed course: “But we can’t keep feeding him cat food anymore. We need to prepare better meals.”

On Friday, during class, Harry and Ron discussed a strategy. They agreed letting Puxu remain a cat indefinitely was unacceptable, but telling the professors risked him slipping away. Perhaps they should keep him for a while first, let his guard down, then suddenly hand him over.

Doing so might upset Puxu, but it was undoubtedly best for him.

During Friday’s Potions class, Malfoy found Harry. He said he’d be sending the dragon away this weekend, which struck Harry as odd—because then he might not get to see Malfoy caught by the professors.

But more than seeing Malfoy humiliated, Harry thought it was more important to handle Norbert properly; he arranged to meet Malfoy after class to inform Hagrid.

Norbert had grown considerably larger, and his appetite had increased. Hagrid’s cabin floor was piled high with empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers. Hagrid thought he could still hide the dragon, but after Harry’s urging, he could only stroke Norbert sadly and tearfully agree to send him away the next day.

On Saturday, Hagrid’s cabin received an unusual visitor. His face was pale, sharply angled, his gray eyes brimming with unmasked arrogance. Harry recognized him at once—Draco’s father. With him were six or seven men in black robes and thick leather gloves, likely dragon keepers.

“Take the dragon away,” the man ordered coldly. Then, noticing Harry’s displeased expression, he added, “Be gentle.”

“That’s how you handle dragons, sir,” one of the black-robed men said, roughly attempting to bind Norbert.

Hagrid wept quietly nearby, watching as they successfully stuffed Norbert into a wooden crate. He shoved something inside.

“Poor child. He’ll need mice and brandy on the journey,” he said. “And a teddy bear—he’ll be lonely.”

“He really thinks this thing is a child?” muttered one of the black-robed men.

“Looks like he’s not too bright, big oaf,” another sneered, loud enough for Harry to hear.

“No talking. Focus on your work,” Draco’s father ordered coldly.

Then six men in black robes and white shoes hoisted the crate onto their shoulders and shuffled away.

“Pleased to meet you, Harry Potter,” the man said to Harry. He looked exactly like Draco, carved from the same mold. “Draco told me you’re one of the few friends he has at school.”

He emphasized the word “friend.”

“Is that so? I thought Draco would be more popular,” Harry replied dryly.

“My apologies. Perhaps I wasn’t clear,” the man said. “Draco called you a friend—not a servant or lackey. That, I believe, is crucial.”

“I am Lucius Malfoy, current head of the Malfoy family,” he said. “By the way, I’m also a school governor.”

“I see. Pleased to meet you, sir,” Harry replied politely. “I think Draco is a very typical Slytherin.”

Calling Draco a typical Slytherin pleased Lucius—but in Harry’s mind, it was half an insult.

“Excellent. I’m curious, though—why did you end up in Gryffindor?” Lucius said. “I assumed you’d be sorted into Slytherin.”

“I don’t know. It was the Sorting Hat’s choice,” Harry replied smoothly. “Besides, Slytherin and Gryffindor were friends in life. Friendship between houses is certainly possible.”

“Well said. If the opportunity arises, I’d be honored to invite you to Malfoy Manor,” Lucius said.

“That would be wonderful,” Harry said, “but I really should be heading to the library.” He had no desire to continue this hollow exchange and feigned urgency by glancing at his watch.

“Is that so? What’s so urgent?” Lucius detected Harry’s impatience, his tone subtly annoyed.

“I’m meeting,” Harry hesitated—calling her his friend might not be appropriate, since Draco was also his “friend”—“my girlfriend to do homework.”

Lucius gave a sly smile and let him go.

“Phew. Finally got rid of that annoying bastard,” Harry sighed. Ron had stood beside him the whole time, but Lucius hadn’t even glanced at him.

“Why were you so polite to him?” Ron grumbled. “I wouldn’t have bothered.”

“Didn’t you hear? He’s a governor,” Harry said. “I was going to mock him, but if he got angry and plotted to expel us, that’d be trouble.”

“Dumbledore will stand with us,” Ron said.

“But governors own part of the school. The Board…” Harry trailed off, then snapped, “To hell with it. Dumbledore’s on our side—and that’s Dumbledore!”

They imagined how powerful Dumbledore was, how Lucius’s prized wealth meant nothing before him, how if danger came, Lucius would have to crawl to him for protection.

As they walked slowly back to the castle, chatting, Harry noticed Zhang Qiu standing at the entrance, holding an envelope.

“I think we should calmly look into Puxu’s situation,” she said, waving the envelope.

“Alright. If life always has so many annoying problems, maybe being a cat isn’t so bad,” Harry thought, remembering his unfinished homework, and felt a pang of melancholy.

“After you told me yesterday, I wrote to my Master right away,” Zhang Qiu said. “He gave a detailed explanation about Puxu.”

“Your Master is in Tianchao?” Ron asked, surprised. “Does Tianchao have special magic? I mean, owls can’t fly that fast!”

“It’s not magic. It’s email,” Zhang Qiu explained. “I just deliver the letter to the embassy—they use magical Muggle computers to contact my Master instantly.”

“Just read what your Master says,” Harry said, feeling no awe at the changing times—he was nearly driven mad by Puxu.

“He says Puxu is unquestionably a Blood Curse Werebeast. It’s hard to imagine anyone casting a Blood Curse on such a young child—it’s truly cruel…”

“Wait?” Harry leaned forward to read the letter, but it was all Chinese. “I thought Blood Curses were innate?”