Starting at Hogwarts, Logging into Elden Ring

As a lifelong cat lover, Arthur knew cat fur all too well—especially after he’d spent the last two days cuddling Mrs. Norris to his heart’s content.

So when he saw Hermione’s delighted expression as she held up the hair sample she’d collected, he didn’t have the heart to tell her it was actually cat fur.

Yes, that was the only reason he stayed quiet.

It definitely wasn’t because he wanted to see what Hermione would look like as a catgirl.

...

A few days later, on Christmas night—

Most of the students had gone home for the holidays, so the Great Hall felt particularly spacious.

Arthur was enjoying the evening feast with his rather unusual "family."

"Brother-in-law, I’ll admit—this hot pot of yours is divine!"

Radahn was seated alone at a large table, with a cauldron-sized pot just for himself. His sheer size demanded it.

Yes—Arthur had introduced hot pot to Hogwarts.

The British winter chill had reminded him of the warm, cozy hot pot nights of his past life, so he’d brewed up several flavorful broths and raided the kitchens for raw ingredients.

Ranni and Radahn both joined him, and even Rya got her own tiny pot.

Having grown comfortable with her lizard form, Rya saw no need to change back for dinner. Her appetite was small anyway, and a miniature pot suited her perfectly.

Meanwhile, Harry and Ron, hurried along by Hermione, had wolfed down their food and slipped away to ambush Malfoy’s two cronies.

Hermione herself went to retrieve the completed Polyjuice Potion.

Their plan was simple:

They floated two cupcakes laced with Sleeping Draught into Crabbe and Goyle’s path on their way back to the dorms.

And, unbelievably, the two Slytherin "brainiacs" actually ate them.

Moral of the story: never eat food you find on the ground.

(Or, apparently, floating food is fine?)

Within minutes, the two were snoring on the floor.

Harry and Ron dragged them into a storage room, plucked a few hairs, and hurried to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, where Hermione was already waiting.

"Remind me again," Ron muttered, "why this of all places?"

"It was Arthur’s idea," Hermione said with a shrug. "Don’t ask me."

"Whatever, let’s get it over with. Remember—transformation lasts only an hour. Make it quick."

She handed each of them a cup filled with a viscous, snot-colored potion that shimmered with unpleasant greenish hues and unidentified lumps.

Trying not to gag, all three dropped their collected hairs into their cups.

Then, bracing themselves, they took a sip—only to find it utterly revolting.

Ron grimaced. "I get it now... this is why Arthur told us to meet here."

He threw down the cup, bolted into a stall, and started retching.

Hermione didn’t last much longer, dashing into the next stall.

Only Harry managed to keep his down—somehow.

A few minutes later, Ron stumbled out looking like Crabbe, and Harry, now Goyle, followed.

Hermione, however, called from behind the door that she’d changed her mind and wouldn’t be joining them after all.

The boys didn’t argue—they were running out of time.

Once they left, the bathroom fell silent.

Moments later, Arthur entered.

He surveyed the shattered cups on the floor and clicked his tongue.

"Judging by how much is gone, they probably lasted... what, half an hour tops?"

He knocked on one of the stalls. "Knock, knock."

Inside, Hermione’s muffled voice snapped back, "Not now, cousin! I’m not in the mood for knock-knock jokes."

The door creaked open—

and Arthur found himself staring into the face of a very large cat.

Specifically, a Maine Coon, the same breed as that Slytherin girl’s pet cat.

One look at Hermione’s furry, whiskered face, and Arthur burst out laughing.

"Don’t laugh, cousin! Help me!" she pleaded, ears drooping miserably.

Arthur stifled his laughter, ruffled the fur on her head, and said approvingly,

"Mmm. Not quite as soft as when you were a kitten, but still nice and silky."

Before Hermione could explode in embarrassment, he opened the door to the Zen Garden and stepped through.

Hermione hurried after him.

The garden looked livelier than it had in summer.

Rya and Mrs. Norris were playing together—no one knew what a snake and a cat could possibly talk about, but they seemed to get along.

Ranni was in Arthur’s workshop, still studying that Peashooter seed she hadn’t yet planted.

As for Radahn, he had gone off to spend time with Hagrid.

Being a ghostly warlord, he didn’t mix well with Hogwarts’ resident spirits, but he and Hagrid—both "outsiders" in their own way—hit it off immediately.

In just a few days, the half-giant had practically become Radahn’s devoted follower.

Well, charisma was one of Radahn’s strengths.

Ranni turned at the sound of footsteps—and her lips twitched upward.

Hermione’s enormous cat face had done the impossible: it made Ranni laugh.

Mortified, Hermione hid behind a pillar.

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head, and set about brewing an antidote.

Before long, the potion was ready.

Hermione drank it—and immediately began coughing up hairballs. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

After several rounds of that rather undignified process, her appearance was mostly back to normal.

Mostly.

Because now, on top of her head, sat a pair of furry cat ears—and from behind her robes swished a long, soft tail.

Arthur admired her, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Hermione caught sight of herself in a mirror and froze.

"Cousin... what’s this supposed to be?"

"Hmm? Don’t you think it’s cute? Don’t worry, it’ll wear off in a few days."

Hermione didn’t need Legilimency to know her cousin’s real motive.

This wasn’t a prank—this was his kink.

(If Arthur could’ve heard her thoughts, he’d have said indignantly: It’s not a kink—it’s my XP!)

After studying her reflection for a while, Hermione admitted it wasn’t bad.

Since most students were gone for the holidays, she wouldn’t die of embarrassment anyway.

At that moment, Rya slithered in.

She eyed Hermione curiously.

"So Lord Arthur likes that kind of look?"

Then, before anyone could stop her, she shifted—

her upper body human, but her lower half the long, gleaming tail of a serpent.

"Look, Lord Arthur! Rya has a tail too!"

She proudly presented it for inspection.

Arthur reached out and stroked it—the smooth, warm scales felt like polished jade.

"Indeed," he said with a smile, "Rya’s tail is adorable too."

Ranni, watching from the side, fell into silent contemplation.

Perhaps she should borrow a few tufts of Mrs. Norris’s fur to make herself a pair of cat ears—

her king seemed quite fond of the style.

Hermione, meanwhile, was utterly dumbfounded.

What had she just witnessed?

The little lizard creature had transformed into a beautiful half-serpent girl.

Was this normal in the wizarding world?!

Could pets just turn into people now?

Maybe an Animagus form? No—that didn’t explain the hybrid body!

Seeing the confusion in her eyes, Arthur explained,

"I told you before—Rya’s a special case. She can shift between her lizard form, a half-human serpent form, and a fully human form. That’s what I meant when I said you could treat her as a girl."

Hermione nodded slowly. Magic could justify anything, after all.

Then she noticed something else. "Wait... Mrs. Norris? Why is she here?"

"You can just call her Norris now," Arthur said. "She’s retired. No longer Filch’s cat."

He briefly told her how he’d "rescued" Norris, who now lived comfortably in the Garden, content to spend her final years in peace.

Hermione nodded in understanding. A cat her age deserved a quiet retirement.

"Alright," Arthur said, glancing at the clock. "Harry and Ron should be back by now. You’d better go meet them."

"You’re not coming?" she asked.

He waved a hand dismissively. "No need. I already know Draco’s not the Heir of Slytherin. He couldn’t even beat Harry, let alone open the Chamber of Secrets. If he were the heir, no one would fear Voldemort’s return."

...

Hermione left the Zen Garden and returned to the Gryffindor common room, only to find no sign of Harry or Ron.

After waiting a while, they finally trudged in, exhausted and gloomy.

They didn’t even laugh at her cat ears—just collapsed onto the couch.

"What happened to you two?" she asked.

Ron groaned. "Don’t even start. We got caught by Snape."

In truth, Snape had been expecting them.

After Arthur secretly tipped him off about the theft of potion ingredients, he’d decided to keep an eye out.

When he saw the boys sneaking off during the Christmas feast, he knew immediately.

He waited by the entrance to the Slytherin common room and nabbed them the moment they returned.

Thanks to Arthur’s persuasion, Snape only deducted twenty points from Gryffindor, but he did assign a week of nighttime labor—sorting potion ingredients.

He already had dozens of pounds of slug entrails prepared, and that was just for one night.

He was now brainstorming even nastier substances for his new "assistants."

"And what about you?" Harry finally asked, staring at Hermione’s twitching ears.

"Oh, I used cat fur instead of human hair. No big deal—it’ll wear off in a few days. Now, tell me—what did you learn?"

Their answer left Hermione disappointed.

As Arthur had predicted, Draco wasn’t the Heir of Slytherin.

The only useful information was that the Chamber had indeed been opened fifty years ago—and someone had died.

"Hmm... since we know the monster inside is a Basilisk, then who could’ve opened it back then?" Hermione mused.

Then, remembering her cousin’s words, a thought struck her.

"Wait—what if the Heir of Slytherin is Voldemort himself?"

Harry jolted upright, eyes wide. "You might be right! But where is he now?"

Hermione reasoned, "Last year he possessed Quirrell. Maybe this year, he’s attached to someone else."

"Yes—that makes sense!" Harry said eagerly.

"But Hogwarts has hundreds of people," Ron sighed. "How do we know who he’s possessing?"

Harry frowned in thought. "We’ll figure it out. We just have to watch for anyone acting strange."

Hermione yawned. "Let’s save that for tomorrow. Don’t forget—you’ve got Snape’s punishment duty in the morning."

She turned and headed upstairs to bed.

Ron stretched, patted Harry’s shoulder, and mumbled, "Good luck," before following.

Left alone, Harry sat deep in thought.

After a long while, a face came to mind—

the most disliked person in Hogwarts.

Filch.

Yes, that made sense. Voldemort must be possessing Filch.

After all, Filch had been at every scene of a petrification—

even the night when Colin was found, after Harry’s own hospital stay.

It had been Filch who’d discovered the boy... and reported it to the professors.

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