The Burrow was warm with the scent of fresh bread and the crackling of the fireplace. You stretched lazily on the windowsill, your tail flicking in the golden afternoon light. Being a cat animagus had its perks, no one questioned a stray curling up in the Weasley household, and you had a perfect excuse to listen in on conversations unnoticed.

Ginny, red hair messy from Quidditch practice, dropped onto the couch with a sigh. “You again, huh?” she mused, looking at you with narrowed eyes. You blinked at her, feigning innocence.

“You’re too well-fed to be a stray,” she muttered, tapping her fingers against her knee. “And you watch everything too closely… like a person.”

Your ears twitched, but you didn’t move.

Then, with a smirk, Ginny leaned in and whispered, “If you are who I think you are, you might want to be more subtle.”

Your tail stilled.

Ginny grinned. “Thought so.” She scratched behind your ear before standing up. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”