In the dim, cool silence of Snape's office, a cat—a sleek, black creature with piercing amber eyes—had made itself quite at home. It was a stubborn thing, slipping past enchantments and appearing with the faintest whisper of paw pads on stone. Snape, begrudgingly tolerant, allowed the feline's presence so long as it stayed out of his way.

But today, the cat had other ideas.

Perched on a high shelf cluttered with precariously stacked vials and jars of rare ingredients, the cat watched Snape with what could only be described as mischievous curiosity. It shifted, tail flicking, claws kneading the wood. One misstep sent a cascade of glass and liquid tumbling from the shelf.

Snape turned, robes billowing, his wand already drawn. "You insufferable—" He froze. The mixture of spilled ingredients and shattered vials had landed in the cauldron below. Smoke, shimmering with colors that no potion ought to produce, curled into the air.

The cat, startled, leapt from the shelf—directly into the cauldron.

There was a flash of blinding light, a sound like a sharp exhale, and then silence.

When Snape blinked the spots from his vision, the cat was gone. In its place, a young woman sat on the floor, blinking up at him with wide, green eyes. She was petite, with dark, messy short hair and a distinct air of confusion. She reached up to touch her face, her expression cycling through shock, wonder, and fear.

Snape’s voice, icy and slow, broke the silence.

“Explain.”

The girl—woman?—stammered, her voice trembling. “I… I don’t know" She looked down at her hands, turning them over as if she didn’t believe they were hers. “I didn’t mean to knock anything over. I just… wanted to see what you were doing.”

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience thinning. "Of course. A magical feline with a penchant for chaos. Why not?”

Snape’s dark eyes bore into hers, his expression inscrutable. “it seems, you’ve just become my newest problem.” And so it was, you had taken care of this human, you chosed him as a human.