Chapter 64: Proactive cat
A few hours later, the Hogwarts hall had been transformed. Despite Ethan's initial decline, Dumbledore had gone all out. House-elves were bustling about, enchanted banners of gold and silver drifted near the ceiling, and the scent of expensive firewhisky and roasted meats filled the air.
As Ethan entered, his breath caught. He saw Minerva McGonagall standing near the Pensieve basin, and for a moment, he genuinely doubted he was in the right universe.
The Minerva from his memories—the stern, elderly lady in the high-collared robes—was gone. In her place stood a woman who looked to be in her prime fifties, radiating an enchanting, mature beauty. She wore a low-cut emerald silk gown that left very little to the imagination. The plunging neckline revealed a generous amount of cleavage, and a daringly high slit in the skirt showcased her long legs clad in sheer black stockings.
She looked less like a stern professor and more like a high-society enchantress. Even Tonks, with all her Metamorphmagus talent, hadn't quite captured the sheer presence of the real Minerva when she's actually trying.
Minerva, feeling his intense gaze, turned and offered a slow, lingering smile. "Is something the matter, Mr. Williams? You look as though you've forgotten your incantations."
"Ah... nothing," Ethan managed, his eyes raking over her form. "I was just lost in the view. Are you sure you're in your fifties, Minerva? Because I'm starting to think you've been hoarding the Sorcerer's Stone for yourself."
Minerva let out a melodic, throaty laugh, stepping closer. "Now, Ethan... surely a Master of the Mystic Arts knows it is a taboo to ask a lady about her age."
She leaned in, the scent of ginger and expensive perfume hitting him. As she reached for a glass of mead, her arm "accidentally" brushed against his, her body lingering against his side for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Ethan felt a jolt of heat. He wondered what had changed. Why was the normally conservative, iron-willed Professor being so... proactive?
Just then, a translucent blue window flickered into his vision, glowing with a snarky, familiar light.
[ System Observation ]
The Host remains remarkably dense regarding local feline behavior.
"Some cats do more than prowl in the moonlight; they are curious by nature and like to peep through windows. Spectacle-shaped markings on a tabby are rarely a coincidence, Ethan."
Ethan's eyes widened as the realization hit him like a freight train. The sound he'd heard on the windowsill the night before—that soft, rhythmic scratching and the silhouette he'd dismissed as the wind.
The Animagus.
She hadn't just heard the rumors; she had watched. She had seen the entire "detention" session with Tonks—the roleplay, the Elder Wand, the primal intensity of it all.
A slow, perverse grin spread across Ethan's face. He looked back at Minerva, whose eyes were currently tracing the line of his jaw with a hungry intensity.
So, the strict Professor liked what she saw, huh? Ethan thought, his blood beginning to hum with a predatory focus. She watched herself being worshipped through a window, and now she wants to experience the real thing before I vanish.
He looked at her plunging neckline and the glimpse of stocking-clad thigh through the slit of her dress. If he was leaving in less than twenty hours, he might as well take the ultimate souvenir.
Ethan turned his gaze back toward Minerva. She was currently a whirlwind of sharp commands, directing the house-elves as they levitated silver platters and straightened enchanted banners. In the far corner, Professor Flitwick was balanced precariously on a stepladder, his wand tracing intricate patterns in the air to fix shimmering decorations to the vaulted ceiling.
Ethan stepped through the hustle, his eyes locked on the emerald silk clinging to Minerva's frame. "Professor McGonagall," he called out, his voice cutting through the chatter. "Why don't you stop wasting your time and let these elves do their work? They've been at this for centuries; I think they can handle a few tablecloths without your supervision."
Minerva paused, her hand mid-gesture. She turned to him, the emerald fabric of her gown catching the light and emphasizing the daring curve of her neckline. "And do you have a better suggestion for my time, Mr. Williams?"
"I might," Ethan said, a slow, knowing smirk playing on his lips. "You know, I noticed since I arrived, we never really had a moment to just... talk. Truly talk."
Minerva smoothed the silk over her hip, the high slit of her dress flickering open to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of her black-stockinged thigh. "Well, that is true. I have been rather occupied with the academic affairs... and as you are aware, the battle caused quite a significant amount of damage to the castle's structural and administrative foundations."
"Indeed," Ethan said, taking a step closer until he was well within her personal space. He could smell the sharp, clean scent of her perfume mixed with something warmer. "But since you are free tonight... and tomorrow is my last day... why don't we end it on a high note? I think it would be fun to get to know the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts... deeply."
Minerva didn't flinch. Instead, she tilted her head, her sharp eyes scanning his face with a bold, newfound confidence. "Oh? And just how deeply did you have in mind, Mr. Williams?"
Ethan raised an eyebrow. Wow, look at that... she's not shying away at all. "As deeply as you'll allow, Profesor."
She let out a soft, melodic laugh that hummed in the air between them. "Ha... well, it is getting quite crowded in here. Perhaps a stroll around the battlements would be more conducive to such a... deep conversation."
"Lead the way," Ethan replied.
Minerva turned toward the corner of the room. "Professor Flitwick! I am taking Mr. Williams for a short stroll to discuss some final matters. Could you please oversee the remaining arrangements?"
"Of course, professor! Leave it to me!" Flitwick squeaked, waving his wand enthusiastically as a stream of gold stars erupted from the tip.
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