Night had settled over Hogwarts like a heavy cloak. Rain lashed against the windows in wild, slanting gusts, and the wind howled as if the Forbidden Forest itself were crying out in warning. Within the castle, lanterns burned low, professors patrolled the corridors with sharp eyes, and prefects walked their routes in tense silence.
Outside the walls, Dementors hovered at the perimeter, gliding through the storm like wraiths. Ever since Sirius Black's intrusion, the school had become a fortress, its gates watched, its doors sealed with layers of protective enchantments.
Yet none of that mattered to Cael.
He stirred silently in the boys' dormitory, rising from his bed while the others lay deep in sleep. He glanced first at Fred and George—Fred curled around his pillow, George snoring softly—and then to Lee Jordan, who was muttering about Quidditch commentary in his dreams.
"…and Potter seizes the Snitch—Gryffindor wins… again… brilliant—"
Cael rolled his eyes and gave a faint smirk. No one would notice his absence.
Without a sound, he shifted.
In the blink of an eye, his human form melted into that of a sleek black cat. Midnight fur shimmered under the pale light that filtered through the door . His eyes, cold and icy blue, gleamed with intelligence as he slinked down from his bed.
At the Gryffindor common room entrance, the new portrait—a pompous knight in armor—spotted him.
"Ah! A noble beast! Fancy a duel, feline warrior? Come! Cross swords with Sir Cadogan if you dare!"
Cael ignored him.
Padding down the stairs, silent as a shadow, he passed portraits whispering to one another.
"Isn't that the cat again?" one muttered.
"Haven't seen it since the autumn of '91," said another.
He reached the first floor, where all the doors leading outside had been sealed with protective charms. But Cael had no intention of walking through the front gate. He leapt nimbly onto a windowsill, braced his paws, and pushed the latch open. Wind and rain blasted in at once.
He jumped.
The rain hit him like a sheet of ice. He landed with a splash on the muddy grass and sprinted low across the yard, weaving through hedges and past pumpkin patches. Lightning cracked above the distant towers. Nearby, a group of Dementors drifted along the outer wall—but none noticed him. In his Animagus form, he gave off no magical signature. He was invisible to them.
His target was clear: the Whomping Willow.
He skirted the edge of Hagrid's hut, passing silently through the garden, then slowed as he approached the towering, violent tree. But tonight, the Willow was oddly still. Its branches swayed gently in the rain, not in warning but in calm.
Perfect.
Cael approached with care. At the base of the tree, half-concealed among the roots, was a hole—dark and wide. The secret entrance. The tunnel.
He jumped inside.
The journey through the passage was long and damp, stretching for what felt like miles beneath the castle grounds. He padded forward through cobwebs and puddles, his feline eyes cutting cleanly through the gloom. After nearly half an hour, he emerged into the Shrieking Shack.
Creaking floors, cracked walls, and broken furniture greeted him. The most haunted house in Britain.
He changed back to human form with a quiet rustle and immediately cast a Silencio charm. Then, with a flick of his wand, he layered a Muffliato around the room—no sound would escape. A third spell, Odorem Nulla, masked his scent completely. He wasn't sure how keen Sirius Black's nose might be, even in dog form, but he wasn't taking chances.
Then came the final step.
Cael closed his eyes and whispered the ancient incantation:
"Veyarum."
The world around him shifted. The magic of Myrddin wrapped around his very existence. His magical presence vanished. His body could no longer be seen, felt, or sensed. He became a ghost even among ghosts. The perfect phantom.
He moved silently, ascending floor after floor.
Then he found him.
On the top level, in a dusty bedroom with a rusted bedframe, lay a black dog curled up on the mattress. Rain tapped the broken windows. The dog was thin, soaked, ribs visible beneath matted fur.
Sirius Black.
Cael smiled faintly. He stepped away, dispelled the Veyarum enchantment, and began again—this time loudly, deliberately, as though he were just arriving.
"Ugh! Bloody rain! Better stay in here till morning…"
The dog's ears twitched.
Cael adjusted his disguise—altering his eye color, enlarging his nose, making himself look older and more haggard. Just in case Sirius had ever seen a photo of him.
He stomped around noisily. "Those pubs in Hogsmeade are heartless. Refused me a bed unless I paid. Kicked me out in the rain!"
The dog stirred again but remained still, lying by the bed now.
Cael entered the room, pretending to notice him. "Oh! A dog, huh? You ran from the storm too? Clever mutt."
He cast a quick Scourgify on the mattress and sat down, pulling out a pouch of sausages from his robes. They steamed faintly, fresh from the Hogwarts kitchens.
"You look starved," he said, waving a sausage. "C'mere, little doggy. Come on, don't be shy."
The black dog didn't move.
Cael smiled to himself. "What's the matter? Not used to kindness?"
He tore off a piece and waved it again. "Come on now. Sit down and I'll give you one."
The dog hesitated. Then, with a low grumble, it sat.
"Good boy," Cael said smoothly. "Such an obedient little dog. Here—"
He patted the dog's head lightly and passed him the sausage. The dog took it, tearing into it hungrily.
"Poor thing," Cael said gently. "So thin. No meat left on you."
He waited until Sirius was chewing the last bite.
Then he said softly, "Finally meeting you, Sirius Black."
The dog froze.
His back arched. Every hair on his body stood on end. He turned slowly toward Cael, growling—but unsteady.
"You're wondering how I know," Cael continued. "How I know your secret—that you're an unregistered Animagus. That only your old friends ever knew the truth."
He rose from the bed as Sirius staggered, trying to attack him .
Snap.
Sirius collapsed to his knees mid-attack , dizzy and unfocused.
Cael stepped forward, wand ready. "The sausage was laced with a powerful sleeping draught. Not enough to kill—just enough to knock you out for a few hours."
Sirius slurred something, almost a bark.
Cael caught him before he hit the floor.
"Well, well," he murmured, lowering him gently to the wooden planks. "I finally met my dear uncle."
He stood tall, wand glowing softly, and added, "Let's get you back to the castle."
With a flick of his wand, Cael levitated the unconscious dog gently into the air.
Rain thundered on the roof above.
And in the distance, the faint toll of morning bells rang through the storm.