A Nundu for A Pet

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

If you want to Read 12 More Chapters Right Now. Search 'Drinor Patreon' in Google and Click the First Link

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), Chapter 30 (The Minister's Request), Chapter 31 (Abyssantica), Chapter 32 (The Half-Human Princess), Chapter 33 (Echoes from the Deep), Chapter 34 (Crystal's Song of Ice), and Chapter 35 (Song of Ice and Water) are already available for Patrons.

' Harry found himself blinking in confusion, the world coming into focus around him. The familiar crunch of dried leaves beneath his feet and the slight chill in the air sparked an immediate recognition – he was back at the park where everything had changed two years ago.

The same weathered bench sat before him, its green paint peeling at the edges just as he remembered. A forgotten newspaper tumbled across the path, carried by an autumn breeze that rustled through nearly bare trees. The sky above was overcast, casting everything in a muted gray light that made the scene feel almost monochrome.

He was standing exactly where he had been that day, having wandered away from Dudley's birthday celebrations. The old snake that had kept him company was even there, curled up near the bench's leg.

"Hello again, young speaker," the snake hissed, but something was off about its voice – deeper, more resonant than it should have been.

Before Harry could respond, movement caught his eye. He turned his head to the left, and his heart stopped.

There, about a hundred meters away, stood the hooded figure. But instead of setting something down as he had in Harry's memory, the stranger was lifting a familiar form from the ground – Itisa.

"No!" Harry shouted, his voice sounding strange and distant in the dream-air. "Stop!"

His feet were moving before his brain fully registered the action, pounding against the path. Leaves swirled around his ankles as he ran, but no matter how fast he moved, the distance between them didn't seem to change. The hooded figure remained exactly the same distance away, as if Harry was running on a treadmill.

"Put her down!" Harry's voice cracked with desperation. "She's mine! You can't take her!"

Finally, impossibly, his hand caught the stranger's shoulder. The cloak felt wrong under his fingers – not like fabric at all, but like touching smoke that had somehow become solid.

The figure turned, and Harry stumbled back. Where a face should have been, there was only darkness – a void deeper than any shadow he'd ever seen. But from within that darkness, a pair of bright green eyes stared back at him. They were exactly like his own, down to the smallest fleck of gold near the pupils.

"She was never yours to keep, Harry Potter." The voice that emerged from the darkness was deep, resonating in Harry's chest like the lowest notes of a pipe organ. It carried an accent he couldn't place, yet something about it tugged at his memory, like a word sitting on the tip of his tongue.

"I won't let you take her," Harry said, trying to sound brave despite the fear crawling up his spine. "I'll get stronger. I'll protect her. No one will ever hurt her!"

The figure's laugh was like distant thunder. "Such determination. Such conviction." Those familiar green eyes seemed to pierce right through him. "But you misunderstand, young one. No one will take her from you."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. "Then why—"

"You will let her go."

The words fell like stones into still water, sending ripples of dread through Harry's body. "No," he whispered. "I would never—"

"You will let her go," the figure repeated, and now there was something almost gentle in that deep voice. "Because you will choose to."

"You're lying!" Harry reached for Itisa, but his hands passed right through her as if she were made of mist. "I would never choose that! Never!"

"Time will tell," the figure said softly. "As it always does."

The darkness from within the hood began to spread, seeping out like spilled ink, consuming everything it touched. Harry tried to back away, but it flowed around his feet, up his legs, drawing him in.

"Remember, Harry Potter," that deep voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere. "When the moment comes, you will understand. And you will let her go." '

Harry's eyes shot open, his heart hammering against his ribs as he sucked in a sharp breath. The familiar green hangings of his Slytherin four-poster bed slowly came into focus, but for several disorienting moments, he could still feel the phantom chill of that park bench beneath him.

He pushed himself up on his elbows, careful not to disturb Itisa, who lay curled at his side. Her massive form, currently sized down to that of a large housecat, rose and fell with deep, peaceful breaths – something he'd never seen before during one of his nightmares. Usually, she was already awake, her golden eyes fixed on him, ready to offer comfort.

"Just a dream," he whispered to himself, but the words felt hollow. The hooded figure's voice echoed in his mind, deep and resonant, yet achingly familiar in a way he couldn't quite place. Like a half-remembered song, or a scent that triggered memories just out of reach.

*You will let go of Itisa.*

Harry's hand found its way to Itisa's fur, fingers tangling in her warm coat. She stirred slightly but didn't wake, and Harry felt a sudden, irrational surge of fear. What if this was it? What if this was the night she didn't wake up, the night that mysterious figure's prediction came true?

"Stop it," he muttered to himself, forcing his breathing to slow. "You're being ridiculous."

But was he? The dream had felt so real – the same bench where he'd first met her, the same crisp autumn air, even the distant sound of children playing in the park. Except this time, instead of leaving her, the figure had been taking her away. And those eyes...

A soft rustle from across the dormitory made Harry freeze. After a moment, Sebastian Sallow's quiet snores resumed their steady rhythm. Harry relaxed slightly, grateful that his friend was a heavy sleeper. The last thing he needed was to explain why he was having a panic attack at – he glanced at his wand, whispering a quick "Tempus" – three in the morning.

Careful not to wake anyone, Harry slipped out of bed and padded to the window. The Black Lake's surface gleamed under the moonlight, its waters unusually still. He pressed his forehead against the cool glass, trying to organize his thoughts.

It wasn't the first time he'd dreamed about the day he found Itisa, but it had never been like this before. Never with that twist ending, never with those haunting green eyes that seemed to see right through him. And that voice...

"Who were you?" Harry whispered to his reflection. The pale boy in the window had no answers, just shadows under his eyes and hair even messier than usual.

A soft weight pressed against his leg, and Harry nearly jumped out of his skin before looking down to find Itisa watching him. Her eyes, currently a deep amber to match her housecat disguise, held their usual intelligence and concern.

"Hey," he whispered, crouching down to her level. "Sorry if I woke you."

Itisa bumped her head against his knee, a gesture that clearly said, *What's wrong?*

"Just a dream," Harry said, but Itisa's look told him she wasn't buying it. He sighed. "Okay, a bad dream. About... about the day I found you."

Her ears perked up with interest. They rarely discussed that day, mainly because Harry had always assumed it was painful for her – being abandoned by someone, even if that abandonment had led her to him.

"But it was different this time," Harry continued, keeping his voice low. "Instead of leaving you, he was taking you away. And when I tried to stop him..." He shuddered. "His face was just... darkness. Except for these bright green eyes. And his voice..."

Itisa's tail twitched, a sign she was thinking deeply about something.

"He said I would let go of you," Harry's voice cracked slightly. "Not that someone would take you, or that we'd be forced apart. He said I would let go. Like it would be my choice."

The Nundu's expression became fierce, and she pressed her whole body against his legs, nearly knocking him over despite her currently small size. The message was clear: *I'm not going anywhere.*

"I know," Harry smiled, scratching behind her ears. "I know you're not. And I meant what I said in the dream – I'll get stronger. Strong enough that no one can ever threaten us."

Itisa gave him a look that managed to be both approving and exasperated, as if to say, *We'll get stronger together, you stubborn human.*

"Yeah, yeah, I know. We're a team." Harry glanced back at his bed. "I should probably try to get some more sleep. We have Garlick's class first thing tomorrow, and last time I dozed off, one of the Bouncing Bulbs nearly took my head off."

As they settled back into bed, Harry couldn't shake the lingering unease from his dream. But with Itisa's warm presence beside him, her quiet purr rumbling through the mattress, it was easier to push the dark thoughts away. Whatever that dream meant, whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

Just before sleep reclaimed him, Harry remembered something else from the dream – something that hadn't struck him as important until now. The figure's robes hadn't been black like he remembered from that day in the park. They had been a deep, midnight blue, with tiny silver stars that seemed to move of their own accord.

Just like Dumbledore's favorite robes.

But that was ridiculous, Harry thought as he drifted off. Dumbledore hadn't even known about Itisa back then. Had he?

The thought followed him into uneasy dreams, where green eyes watched from shadows, and a deep voice whispered prophecies he couldn't quite remember come morning.

When Harry finally woke again, sunlight streaming through the lake water cast shifting patterns across his bed. Itisa was already awake, watching him with her usual morning alertness. But there was something different in her gaze today – something almost protective.

"I'm okay," he told her quietly, though they both knew it wasn't entirely true. "It was just a dream."

Itisa's expression suggested she didn't believe that any more than he did, but she didn't press the issue. Instead, she simply stood and stretched, transforming the gesture into an elaborate performance that made Harry smile despite himself.

"Show-off," he muttered fondly, reaching for his robes. "Come on, let's get breakfast before Hermione sends out a search party. Again."

As they made their way out of the Slytherin dormitory, Harry couldn't help but glance back at the window where he'd stood just hours before. In the morning light, last night's fears seemed distant, almost silly. But something about that dream – those eyes, that voice, that strange familiarity – wouldn't leave him alone.

*You will let go of Itisa.*

"Never," Harry whispered so quietly that even Itisa might not have heard him. But as they stepped into the corridor, he couldn't shake the feeling that somewhere, somehow, those bright green eyes were still watching.

⚯ ͛

⚯ ͛

Harry was methodically spreading jam on his toast when Sebastian slid onto the bench beside him, dark circles under his eyes suggesting another late night of studying.

"So," Sebastian began, reaching for the teapot, "when's Newt Scamander coming back?"

"Today, actually. More experiments."

"With your 'cat'?" Sebastian's emphasis on the word 'cat' was subtle but unmistakable.

Harry kept his movements casual as he took a bite of toast. "Something wrong with Itisa?"

"Other than the fact that she's definitely not a cat?" Sebastian's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "No, nothing at all."

"And what do you think she is?" Harry asked, matching his friend's quiet tone while maintaining an air of mild curiosity.

Sebastian added an alarming amount of sugar to his tea. "Haven't the foggiest. Magical creatures aren't really my area of expertise."

"Oh?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "And what is your area of expertise?"

"The Dark Arts," Sebastian replied, stirring his tea with the same nonchalance one might use to discuss the weather.

Harry's hand stilled over his toast. "The Dark Arts?"

"Don't look so worried, Potter. I'm not planning to become the next Dark Lord." Sebastian's lips quirked into a sardonic smile. "Can you imagine? 'Fear me, for I am Lord... Sebastian.' Doesn't quite have the same ring to it, does it?"

Several nearby Slytherins choked on their breakfast. Draco Malfoy, sitting a few seats away, went particularly pale.

"Besides," Sebastian continued, seemingly oblivious to the reaction he'd caused, "becoming noseless seems like a rather steep price for immortality. I'm quite attached to my nose, thank you very much."

Harry couldn't help but snort despite his lingering wariness. "You do realize you just made jokes about You-Know-Who at the Slytherin table?"

"Did I?" Sebastian glanced around with exaggerated surprise. "Oh my, so I did. How terribly inappropriate of me." He took a sip of his tea. "But seriously, Potter, have you ever asked yourself who decides what constitutes 'Dark Arts'?"

"The Ministry—" Harry began.

"The Ministry," Sebastian cut him off, "once classified the Patronus Charm as dark magic because they couldn't control who Patroni messengers were sent to. Did you know that?"

Harry blinked. "No, I didn't."

"Of course not. Because it doesn't fit their current narrative." Sebastian leaned forward slightly. "What's the difference between a cutting charm used to slice bread and one used to defend yourself? Intent. But one's perfectly legal to teach eleven-year-olds, and the other gets you shipped off to Azkaban."

"There's still a difference between defensive magic and... well..." Harry gestured vaguely.

"Between defensive magic and magic that can hurt people?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Wingardium Leviosa can kill someone if you drop something heavy enough on their head. Should we classify it as dark?"

"That's different—"

"Is it?" Sebastian asked with a smile. "Or is that just what we've been told to think? Look at your... cat." He glanced meaningfully at Itisa, who was delicately eating pieces of bacon Harry had been sneaking her. "I'd bet my entire trust vault that whatever she is, she's classified as 'dark' by the Ministry. But she's not evil, is she?"

Harry felt Itisa's amusement through their bond. "No, she's not."

"Exactly. Magic is magic, Potter. It's how we use it that matters." Sebastian finally leaned back, his intensity fading. "But try telling that to the Ministry. They'd rather have neat little boxes labeled 'Light' and 'Dark' than actually think about the complexity of magic."

"So..." Harry said slowly, "when you say you study the Dark Arts..."

"I study all magic," Sebastian corrected. "Light, dark, and everything in between. Knowledge isn't evil, Potter. Neither is power. It's what you do with them that counts."

Daphne Greengrass, who had been pretending not to listen from across the table, finally spoke up. "You sound like my father. He's always saying the Ministry's classifications are arbitrary."

"Your father sounds like a smart man, just like me," Sebastian replied. "Unlike some people's fathers who still believe in blood purity nonsense." His eyes flickered briefly to Malfoy, who was now pretending to be completely absorbed in his porridge.

"Still," Harry said, "there must be some magic that's just... wrong."

"Oh, absolutely," Sebastian agreed. "But not because some Ministry official labeled it 'dark'. Because it causes needless suffering, or violates fundamental human rights, or destroys the very fabric of magic itself." He paused. "Like what happened to my sister."

The sudden shift in topic made Harry sit up straighter. Sebastian rarely talked about Anna's illness.

"I'm sorry about Anna," Harry said softly.

"Don't be." Sebastian's smile was tired but genuine. "Just... keep an open mind, yeah? And maybe don't be so quick to judge magic – based on Ministry classifications."

"Speaking of magical creatures," Harry said, sensing his friend needed a subject change, "want to meet Newt later? He's actually quite brilliant when he's not getting distracted by every interesting creature that crosses his path."

"Which is how often, exactly?"

"About every three minutes," Harry admitted with a grin.

"Sounds amazing." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Though I should warn you – I might ask him some questions about magical creature classifications that the Ministry wouldn't approve of."

"Merlin, you're going to get us all arrested, aren't you?"

"Only if we get caught." Sebastian winked. "Besides, your cat seems to approve of my rebellious nature."

Indeed, Itisa had moved to sit between them, purring loudly.

"Traitor," Harry muttered to her, feeling her amusement grow stronger.

"Face it, Potter," Sebastian said, "some of us just aren't meant to fit in neat little Ministry-approved boxes. Just like you."

"Just..." Harry said, "maybe tone down the Dark Lord jokes at breakfast?"

"Why? Is it putting people off their food?" Sebastian glanced around the table with mock concern. "My sincerest apologies to anyone who found my nose jokes distasteful. I'll try to keep future Dark Lord humor to more appropriate venues. Like Potions class."

Harry groaned, but he was smiling. Whatever Sebastian's views on magic, at least life in Slytherin was never boring.

⚯ ͛

Harry and Sebastian trailed behind their fellow Slytherins as they descended into the dungeons, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. Ahead of them, Professor Snape's black robes billowed dramatically despite the lack of wind – a feat that had sparked numerous theories among the first-years about possible charm work.

"So," Harry said quietly, adjusting his bag, "why do you really need to talk to Newt?"

Sebastian was quiet for a moment, his usual confident demeanor slipping slightly. "It's Anna," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "She's getting worse."

Harry felt his chest tighten. He didn't know her well, but he knew she loved magical creatures like he did, and she was a big fan of Newt Scamander. Harry remembered how she looked yesterday – skin so pale it was almost translucent, dark veins visible beneath, and eyes that seemed too old for her young face.

"The treatments aren't working?" Harry asked.

Sebastian shook his head. "Nothing works. Not for long, anyway. But Mister Newt..." He glanced around to make sure no one was listening. "He promised Anna he'd contact some people he knows. Specialists who work with unusual magical maladies."

"And you want to know if they've found anything?"

"That, and..." Sebastian ran a hand through his dark hair, a rare display of frustration. "I've searched every magical hospital in Britain. Consulted every healer who would see us. No one can even tell us what's wrong with her, let alone how to fix it. They just keep saying it's some sort of magical deterioration, but that doesn't explain why her skin..." He trailed off as Snape glanced back at them suspiciously.

They waited until their Head of House had turned back around before continuing their conversation.

"Maybe Newt's contacts will have better luck," Harry offered.

"Maybe," Sebastian said, but he didn't sound convinced. "But I'm running out of time to maybe's and might-be's. Every time I visit, she's a little paler, a little weaker. The healers at St. Mungo's are starting to talk about 'making her comfortable' instead of finding a cure."

"You know," Harry said thoughtfully, "even if Newt's contacts can't help directly, he might know of magical creatures that could. I mean, there are creatures out there with incredible healing powers that the Ministry doesn't even acknowledge exist."

Sebastian's eyes lit up slightly. "Like your 'cat'?"

"I neither confirm nor deny any healing abilities my completely normal cat may or may not possess," Harry said with a slight smile, then grew serious. "But really, Newt knows more about magical creatures than anyone. If there's something out there that could help Anna, he'd know about it."

"Even if it's not exactly... Ministry-approved?" Sebastian asked carefully.

"Especially then," Harry replied. "Trust me, Newt cares a lot more about helping people than following Ministry classifications. Why do you think he's so interested in Itisa?"

Sebastian glanced down at the 'cat' walking between them. "Because she's about as 'normal' as my sister's condition?"

Before Harry could respond, Snape's voice cut through their conversation: "Potter, Sallow, if you're quite finished with your social hour, perhaps you could grace us with your attention in class?"

Harry felt his cheeks warm as several students snickered.

"Sorry, Professor," they mumbled in unison.

As they took their seats, Sebastian leaned over and whispered, "Thanks, Harry. For... you know."

Harry nodded, understanding what his friend couldn't quite say. "We'll talk to Newt after class. And Sebastian? We'll figure something out. I promise."

Sebastian's smile was small but genuine. "Careful, Potter. Making promises you might not be able to keep? That's very un-Slytherin of you."

"Maybe," Harry whispered back as Snape resumed his lecture. "Or maybe it's exactly what a Slytherin would do – use every resource available, approved or not, to help a friend."

"Sallow! Potter! Five points from Sly—" Snape caught himself, his face twisting into a grimace of frustration. He couldn't take points from his own house, but his glare promised retribution in other ways. "If you continue disrupting my class, you'll both be scrubbing cauldrons until graduation."

They quickly focused on their potions, but Harry caught Sebastian's slight smile. For the first time since the conversation began, his friend looked like he had hope. Now Harry just had to make sure that hope wasn't misplaced – even if it meant bending a few Ministry regulations in the process.

After all, what was the point of having a not-exactly-legal magical creature as a best friend if you couldn't occasionally break a few rules to help people?

The two of them spent the next ten minutes focusing on the potions they were making when Harry remembered something he hadn't thought about until now.

"What about Phoenix tears?" Harry asked suddenly, remembering something he'd read. "They're supposed to have incredible healing properties. And Professor Dumbledore has one – Fawkes."

Sebastian's bitter laugh caught Harry off guard. "That was the first thing I tried when we got to Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore was surprisingly understanding about it, actually. Let me collect some tears from his Phoenix." He shook his head. "Didn't do a thing. Whatever's wrong with Anna, it's beyond even Phoenix tears."

"But that's impossible," Harry protested. "Phoenix tears can heal any wound!"

"Any physical wound, yes," Sebastian corrected. "But whatever's happening to Anna... it's like her magic itself is sick. The tears might as well have been water for all the good they did."

Before Harry could respond, Snape's voice cracked through the air like a whip: "The next person who speaks loses their brewing privileges for a month."

⚯ ͛

Later that afternoon, Harry and Sebastian found Newt near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, crouched down and examining something that looked suspiciously like giant slug tracks.

"Ah, Harry!" Newt straightened up, brushing dirt from his knees. His eyes landed on Sebastian, and there was a moment of confusion before recognition dawned. "And... oh yes! Mr. Sallow. Anna's brother, correct? How is she doing?"

Sebastian's shoulders tensed. "Not well, sir. I wanted to ask about those healers you mentioned? The ones you were going to contact?"

"Yes, yes, I've reached out to several..." Newt began, then suddenly stopped, his eyes focusing on Harry with an intensity that was unusual for the normally scattered magizoologist. "Harry, might I have a word? Privately?"

Harry glanced at Sebastian, who nodded in understanding and moved a short distance away.

Once they were out of earshot, Newt spoke in low, urgent tones. "Harry, I have studied Nundu blood before. Their blood... it has remarkable curative powers, even more potent than Phoenix tears in some cases."

Harry's eyes widened as he understood the implication. "You think Itisa's blood might help Anna?"

"I'm not entirely certain," Newt admitted. "The properties of a Nundu's blood can vary greatly depending on their age and... other factors. But even if it's not a cure, it could certainly help alleviate her symptoms, make her more comfortable at the very least."

"But taking blood from a Nundu..." Harry frowned. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Ordinarily, yes. Extremely. But Itisa trusts you, and more importantly, she seems to have taken a liking to young Mr. Sallow. If she understands it's to help his sister..."

"She'd do it," Harry said with certainty. "But how would we explain where we got the blood? We can't exactly tell people we got it from a Nundu."

"Leave that to me," Newt said with a slight twinkle in his eye that reminded Harry oddly of Dumbledore. "Madam Pomfrey might ask questions, but I know just what to say to convince her, as for Dumbledore, he already knows about Itisa, so he won't have much against it."

"How do you even know that a Nundu's blood can cure sickness? Aren't they you know...very dangerous. That's what everyone has told me."

"They are, Harry. But A Nundu has magic left in them even after they are nothing but...a corpse. I found two corpses once. Poor Things. And the Magical Community of Asia eagerly took everything valuable from them. I was allowed to study the blood, but it had lost most of its magic by the time I could place it in a 'Keeper' vial. It was still powerful enough to heal quite a few dangerous sicknesses. Now imagine what the blood taken from a living Nundu can do."

"And you think it would really help? And there won't be any side effects on Itisa?"

"It won't cure her," Newt said carefully. "Whatever is affecting Anna goes deeper than normal magic can reach. But it could give her strength, ease her pain, maybe even slow the progression of her condition while we search for a more permanent solution. As for effecting Itisa. I'm sure she will be fine, but I cannot say anything for certain. Your Nundu is the first one to be a tame one after all."

Harry looked over at Sebastian, who was pretending not to watch them while examining a nearby flowering bush. "He's running out of hope," Harry said quietly.

"Then perhaps it's time we gave him some back," Newt replied. "Shall we tell him?"

Harry nodded, and they walked back to Sebastian, whose attempt at casual interest wasn't fooling anyone.

"So," Harry said, trying to keep his voice steady, "how do you feel about slightly illegal magical solutions?"

Sebastian's eyes lit up with the first real hope Harry had seen in them all day. "Potter, if you're about to suggest what I think you are, I might have to hug you. And we both know how un-Slytherin that would be."

"Better save the hugging for after it works," Harry said with a grin. "We wouldn't want to ruin your reputation completely."

For the first time that day, Sebastian's laugh held no bitterness at all. "What are you thinking of doing?"

"We will extract some blood from Itisa. It has magical healing powers. It will help your sister." Sebastian noticed that he didn't say that it would cure completely.

"Mister Newt, will this be dangerous?" Sebastian asked, a little tense at the thought of injecting his sister with the blood of a creature he didn't even know what it was.

"I assure you, Mister Sallow that I would never agree to do this if I wasn't one hundred percent certain." Newt said with a reassuring smile, but Sebastian still seemed wary of all of this.

But Sebastian knew he and Anna had tried every magical and even some muggle hospitals in the United Kingdom. He knew her time was running out, and he was sure he could trust Newt Scamander; the man was a good man, and he doubted he would decide to test something without being certain it would actually work.

"Very well." Sebastian said with an uneasy smile.

Through their bond, Harry felt Itisa's immediate indignation at the suggestion. Her mental presence radiated a mixture of annoyance and reluctance, not unlike a cat being told it was bath time. While she had grown to tolerate Sebastian – even like him in her own way – the idea of Newt extracting her blood made her distinctly unhappy.

'It's to help his sister,' Harry thought to her, feeling her tail swish in irritation.

The response he got back was a complex blend of emotions that roughly translated to: 'I know, but I don't have to be happy about it.'

"Is everything alright?" Sebastian asked, noticing the intense staring contest between Harry and his 'cat'.

"She's being... difficult," Harry said diplomatically, receiving a mental equivalent of a scoff from Itisa.

"I often find," Newt interjected, watching the interaction with fascination, "that magical creatures are more amenable when they understand the purpose of what we're asking them to do."

Sebastian frowned. "I still don't understand how your cat's blood could help Anna. I mean, I know she's not a normal cat, but..."

"She's a very rare magical breed," Newt cut in smoothly before Harry could fumble for an explanation. "Their blood has certain... unique properties. Properties that could help with magical ailments like your sister's."

Itisa's eyes narrowed at Newt, and Harry felt her amusement at the careful dancing around the truth. She might be reluctant to help, but she could appreciate good Slytherin-style misdirection.

"What kind of breed?" Sebastian asked, his curiosity evident.

"I'm afraid that's rather classified," Newt said apologetically. "Ministry regulations and all that. You understand."

Sebastian's eyes lit up at the mention of Ministry regulations. "Ah, one of those situations. Say no more." He grinned at Harry. "Your 'cat' gets more interesting by the day, Potter."

Harry felt Itisa's smugness through their bond. 'You have no idea,' her emotional response seemed to say.

'Will you help?' Harry asked her silently. 'For Anna?'

There was a long pause, during which Itisa fixed Sebastian with an evaluating stare. Finally, Harry felt her grudging acceptance, though it came with a distinct feeling that she would expect extra treats for this particular favor.

"She'll do it," Harry announced, "but she wants us to know she's not thrilled about it."

"I would be concerned if she was," Newt muttered, pulling out various implements from his coat pockets. "Magical creatures of her... er, breed... tend to be quite particular about such things."

Sebastian watched this exchange with growing curiosity, but thankfully didn't press for more details. Instead, he knelt down to Itisa's level.

"Thank you," he said simply. "Whatever you are, whatever this is... thank you."

Itisa's tail twitched, and Harry felt her usual disdain for human sentimentality soften slightly. She even allowed Sebastian to scratch behind her ears – though Harry felt her mental reminder that this acceptance of affection was a one-time occurrence due to extraordinary circumstances.

"Right then," Newt said, laying out his equipment. "Harry, perhaps you could... er, encourage her to stay still?"

Harry sat down next to Itisa, placing a hand on her back. Through their bond, he could feel her resigned acceptance mixed with a very clear message: 'You owe me for this, Potter.'

"I know," he murmured to her. "Extra fish at dinner?"

The mental equivalent of an eye-roll came back to him, along with an impression that mere fish would not be sufficient compensation for this particular indignity.

As Newt approached with his equipment, Harry couldn't help but appreciate the irony of the situation. Here they were, about to use blood from one of the most dangerous creatures in the magical world to help heal someone, and they couldn't even tell Sebastian what was actually helping his sister.

But then again, Harry thought as he felt Itisa's grudging cooperation through their bond, maybe that was for the best. Some truths were better left unspoken, especially when they involved supposedly deadly creatures who could be bribed into helping with nothing more than some premium treats and a bit of ego-stroking.

Despite her prior agreement, when Newt approached with the needle, Itisa's demeanor shifted dramatically. Her fur bristled slightly, and through their bond, Harry felt a surge of primal instinct that reminded him rather sharply that beneath her seemingly docile exterior was a creature that could level entire villages.

'Stay calm,' Harry thought to her, trying to project soothing feelings. The mental equivalent of a derisive snort came back to him.

"Now, this won't hurt much at all," Newt said in his most reassuring tone, though Harry noticed he was moving with the careful precision of someone approaching a sleeping dragon.

Itisa's tail began to twitch – a warning sign Harry had learned to recognize. Through their bond, he felt her growing irritation, mixed with what could only be described as wounded dignity. The mighty Nundu, reduced to being poked with needles like a common housecat.

'You agreed to this,' Harry reminded her gently.

'Agreement and enjoyment are not the same thing, Potter,' came the distinct impression through their bond, accompanied by a wave of royal displeasure.

When Newt finally made contact with the needle, Itisa went absolutely still – the kind of stillness that made Harry nervously aware of just how many teeth and claws were currently being held in check, even her spikes were slowly growing out of her body to stab Newt's hands, but Itisa quickly made them sink back inside. Sebastian, perhaps sensing the tension, had wisely taken several steps back.

"Good girl," Newt murmured, though Harry felt Itisa's mental eye roll at being addressed like a common pet. "Just a moment more..."

Through their bond, Harry felt every sensation – the sharp pinch of the needle, the strange pulling sensation as blood was drawn, and Itisa's mounting indignation at the entire procedure. Her thoughts were a running commentary of dignified outrage: 'The indignity... a creature of my standing... reduced to this... the things I do for these humans...'

"Almost done," Newt said softly, and Harry felt Itisa's relief war with her continued annoyance.

When Newt finally withdrew the needle, Itisa immediately stood up, shaking herself as if trying to shed the memory of the experience. Through their bond, Harry felt her wounded pride and a very clear message: 'This had better work, Potter, or we will have words about your definition of "minor favors."'

"Thank you," Sebastian said again, but wisely made no move to pet her this time.

Itisa's response was to sit down and begin grooming herself with exaggerated care, her every movement screaming 'I am choosing to ignore all of you now.' But underneath her theatrical display of offense, Harry felt a tiny spark of satisfaction – she might not admit it, but part of her was pleased to be able to help, even if she'd rather face a dozen ministry officials than acknowledge it.

"The mighty hunter, felled by a tiny needle," Harry teased her mentally.

The look she gave him promised retribution for that comment.

'You're lucky I like you, Potter,' came her mental response, followed by: 'And yes, this absolutely counts as at least three favors you owe me.'

⚯ ͛

The Hospital Wing was quiet in the late afternoon, sunlight streaming through the high windows and casting long shadows across the stone floor. The usual antiseptic smell mingled with the scent of healing potions and herbs that seemed permanently embedded in the walls. Empty beds lined both sides of the long room, their white sheets crisp and perfectly made – all except one.

Anna Sallow lay in the bed nearest Madam Pomfrey's office, her dark hair a stark contrast against the white pillowcase. Harry's breath caught slightly when he saw her. She looked worse than the last time he'd visited – her skin had taken on an almost translucent quality, with dark veins visible beneath like a web of shadows. The contrast made the redness rimming her eyes even more pronounced.

Itisa, perched on Harry's shoulder, went very still at the sight. Through their bond, Harry felt her surprise at the severity of Anna's condition, followed by a grim sort of determination that made him glad they'd gone through with the blood extraction.

"Mr. Scamander!" Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office, her normally stern expression sharpening further when she saw the vial of dark liquid in Newt's hand. "What exactly do you intend to do with that?"

"Ah, Poppy," Newt said, managing to sound both distracted and focused at once. "This is a rather specialized healing agent. It needs to be administered directly into the bloodstream to—"

"Absolutely not!" Madam Pomfrey's voice cut through the quiet wing like a knife. "I will not inject an unknown substance into one of my patients without—"

"It's perfectly safe," Newt assured her, though his slight rocking on his heels betrayed his nervousness. "I've thoroughly tested its properties and—"

"Tested?" Madam Pomfrey's eyes narrowed. "On what subjects? With what documentation? Where are your Ministry approvals?"

Sebastian, who had moved to sit beside Anna's bed, looked up with growing anxiety. "Please," he said softly, "she's getting worse."

"Which is precisely why we can't risk—" Madam Pomfrey began, but was interrupted by a new voice.

"I believe, Poppy, that you'll find this particular treatment quite safe."

Professor Dumbledore stood in the doorway, his purple robes catching the late afternoon light. His timing was so perfect that Harry wondered if he'd been waiting outside for this exact moment.

"Headmaster," Madam Pomfrey straightened, though her expression remained skeptical. "You can't possibly approve of administering an untested—"

"On the contrary," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he moved further into the room. "While the paperwork might be... shall we say, still in progress, I can personally vouch for both the safety and efficacy of this treatment."

Harry felt Itisa's amusement through their bond. She'd developed a grudging respect for Dumbledore's ability to bend the truth without technically lying.

Madam Pomfrey looked between Dumbledore and Newt, her resolve visibly wavering. "And you take full responsibility if anything goes wrong?"

"Naturally," Dumbledore smiled. "Though I don't believe that will be necessary."

With a heavy sigh that suggested she was recording her protest for posterity, Madam Pomfrey held out her hand for the vial. "Very well. But I'll be monitoring her closely."

As the matron began preparing the injection, Sebastian leaned close to his sister's bed. "Anna?" he said softly. "Can you hear me?"

Anna's eyes fluttered open, and Harry had to suppress a gasp at how red-rimmed they were, as if she'd been crying blood. Despite this, when her gaze fell on Harry – or more specifically, on Itisa – a small smile curved her lips.

"Your cat came to visit," she whispered, her voice rough from disuse.

Through their bond, Harry felt Itisa's usual disdain for being called a cat soften slightly.

"She did," Harry confirmed, moving closer to the bed. "She wanted to help."

Anna's smile widened slightly. "She never lets me pet her."

"She doesn't let most people pet her," Harry said, feeling Itisa's mental equivalent of a sniff of agreement.

"That's because she's special," Anna said with surprising conviction. "I can tell. Like the creatures in Mr. Scamander's books."

Harry exchanged a quick glance with Newt, who was watching the interaction with poorly concealed fascination.

"All ready," Madam Pomfrey announced, approaching with the prepared injection. "This might sting a bit, dear."

Sebastian grabbed his sister's hand as Madam Pomfrey administered the injection. Harry felt Itisa's intense focus through their bond as they watched the dark liquid disappear into Anna's arm.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then Anna gasped softly, her back arching slightly off the bed.

"Anna?" Sebastian's voice cracked with worry.

"I'm okay," she whispered. "I feel... warm. Like sunshine inside."

Harry felt Itisa's satisfaction through their bond. 'Of course it works,' came the distinct impression. 'Did you doubt?'

They watched as color slowly began to return to Anna's cheeks – not much, but enough to make her look less like a ghost and more like a merely ill young girl. The angry red beneath her eyes seemed to fade slightly, and her breathing became deeper, more regular.

"Remarkable," Madam Pomfrey muttered, running diagnostic spells. "Her magical core is actually stabilizing. Not completely, but..."

"The treatment will need to be repeated," Newt said quickly. "Perhaps once in six months, at least initially."

"How do you feel?" Sebastian asked his sister, his eyes bright with unshed tears.

"Stronger," Anna said, and her voice did sound clearer. "Like I could actually sit up without the room spinning."

"Let's not test that just yet," Madam Pomfrey said firmly. "You need rest to let the treatment take full effect."

Anna nodded, but her eyes stayed fixed on Itisa. "Thank you," she said softly. "I don't know how, but... I know you helped somehow."

Itisa, in an unprecedented display of gentleness, jumped down from Harry's shoulder onto Anna's bed. Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath as the 'cat' carefully walked up to Anna's hand and allowed – just for a moment – the girl to scratch behind her ears.

Through their bond, Harry felt Itisa's message clearly: 'Don't get used to this. Special circumstances only.'

"I think," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling, "this calls for a celebration. Perhaps some hot chocolate for everyone? I find it pairs wonderfully with healing breakthroughs."

As Dumbledore conjured cups of steaming hot chocolate, Harry watched Sebastian's face. His friend looked years younger, the constant worry lines around his eyes softened by relief and hope.

"Potter," Sebastian said quietly while the adults were distracted by Dumbledore's impromptu hot chocolate party, "I don't know what strings you pulled or what rules you bent, but... thank you. Both of you." He glanced meaningfully at Itisa, who had returned to her usual aloof pose at the foot of Anna's bed.

"What are friends for?" Harry replied with a smile. "Besides, it was mostly Itisa. I just provided the translation services."

Through their bond, Harry felt Itisa's approval of this description, along with a clear message that he should remember this diplomatic approach the next time he needed a favor from her.

As the afternoon light began to fade from the windows, Harry watched Anna drift into what looked like her first peaceful sleep in weeks, Sebastian still holding her hand, and felt a warm glow of satisfaction that had nothing to do with the hot chocolate. Sometimes, he thought, breaking a few rules was worth it – especially when you had a secretly helpful Nundu on your side.

⚯ ͛

The evening shadows lengthened across the Hospital Wing as Dumbledore and Newt took their leave, their quiet footsteps echoing in the stone corridor outside. Madam Pomfrey had retreated to her office, though Harry noticed she kept glancing through her door's window to check on Anna.

Sebastian hadn't moved from his sister's bedside. His eyes traced the dark veins that were still visible beneath the pale skin of her neck, though they seemed less pronounced than before. The improvement was there, but like a half-finished painting, it served to highlight what was still wrong.

Itisa had settled at the foot of Anna's bed, her tail curled around her paws, watching the siblings with unblinking eyes. Through their bond, Harry felt her analyzing Anna's condition – there was healing, yes, but something deeper remained broken.

"She looks better," Harry offered quietly, trying to break the heavy silence.

Sebastian nodded without looking up. "She does. The color in her face..." He traced a gentle finger across Anna's cheek, which had gained a hint of pink. "I haven't seen her look this alive in weeks."

But there was something in his voice that made Harry's stomach twist.

"Itisa can help again," Harry said. "Newt said once in six months—"

"She can't help forever, Harry." Sebastian's voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried a weight that seemed to fill the room. "And it's not fair to expect her to. This isn't living – it's just..." He gestured helplessly at his sleeping sister. "It's just prolonging her suffering."

Itisa's tail twitched, and Harry felt her agreement through their bond. This wasn't a cure; it was a bandage on a much deeper wound.

"You don't know that," Harry started, but Sebastian cut him off.

"I do." He leaned forward, still holding Anna's hand. "You didn't know her before, Harry. She was... she was like sunshine. Always laughing, always dancing. She used to enchant her shoes to tap dance across the ceiling just to make me laugh when I was studying too hard." His voice cracked. "Now she can barely walk across a room without collapsing."

Through their bond, Harry felt Itisa's usual detachment give way to something deeper – a recognition of the pain in Sebastian's voice.

"The day it happened..." Sebastian's free hand clenched into a fist. "We were just exploring. We weren't even supposed to be there. I was supposed to be watching her, but I got distracted by some old books and she..." He shook his head. "She was always too curious for her own good."

Harry remained silent, sensing that Sebastian needed to let this out.

"When I found her, she was just lying there, like a broken doll. There was this... this darkness spreading through her veins like ink in water. I tried everything I could think of, but..." He looked at the dark lines still visible on Anna's neck. "It's still there, eating away at her magic, her life."

Itisa's ears flattened slightly, and Harry felt her unease. She understood, perhaps better than most, how dark magic could linger, could poison from within.

Sebastian leaned closer to his sleeping sister, his voice dropping to a fierce whisper. "I swear to you, Anna. I swear on everything I am, everything I'll ever be – I'm going to find a cure. I don't care what it takes, what rules I have to break, what lines I have to cross. I'm going to find a way to make you whole again."

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