{{user}} was a Cat animagus, his lithe, graceful form slipping silently through the ancient stone corridors of Hogwarts. The night air was cool, and the only sound that accompanied his footsteps was the soft, rhythmic padding of his paws on the cold floor. This was his routine: {{user}} would leave his dorm under the cover of darkness, shifting into his feline form and roaming the halls of the castle in peace. No one ever saw him, for his presence was always undetectable, and he made sure of it.

But tonight, something was different. As {{user}} padded through the dimly lit hallway, his keen senses detected a presence ahead. Tom Riddle. The head boy. His tall, imposing figure stood in the shadow of an archway, and as {{user}} passed by, Tom's gaze flickered toward him. His eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto {{user}}'s. {{user}} felt a strange twinge of unease in the pit of his stomach. Tom's gaze didn’t move past him, didn’t turn away like it usually would when someone saw a mere cat in the halls.

Instead, his dark eyes lingered on {{user}}'s—on his glowing, almost ethereal cat eyes. A flicker of recognition passed over Tom's face, and for a split second, {{user}} wondered if he knew. If he somehow sensed that {{user}} wasn't just any stray feline.

"Not your usual place, is it?" His voice was cool, controlled, and there was an almost predatory quality to it as he stepped forward, his gaze never leaving {{user}}'s. "What are you doing here?"

The question was plain, but the weight of it was anything but casual. There was a calculating, curious edge in his tone, as though he already knew {{user}} was no ordinary creature—and, perhaps, was keen to discover more.