Dana the cat slipped quietly out of the Gryffindor Common Room, moving with the same elegant gait as a real cat. He headed directly toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office.
As he reached the fourth floor, he unexpectedly encountered a young girl lingering in the corridor. She had long, golden curly hair, slightly protruding silver eyes, and a necklace made of butterbeer corks barely visible beneath her uniform. This was Luna Lovegood.
Dana paused for a moment, then continued down to the third floor with barely a glance in her direction.
"Oh, a kitten?" Luna's ethereal voice called out.
"No, not a kitten. How could a kitten of this age have so many Blibbering Humdingers?" Dana replied softly. He moved with such composure that he hardly seemed feline.
Luna reached out to pick him up, but he deftly leaped away. He then paused to look at her, his eyes clearly warning her back. Luna clapped her hands together.
"I've seen those eyes before—and that silvery-white fur on its head! You're Senior Emrys!"
Dana was taken aback. Luna was known for her intuitive nature, but he had not expected her to be even more perceptive than described in the original stories.
He leapt onto the stairs. Even if she had recognized him, he wouldn't admit it.
"Senior Emrys, could you help me find my hairpin? It's a memento from my mother. Please?" Luna pleaded.
Dana halted. That phrase triggered his hidden protocol. In the original timeline, Luna's roommates had bullied her, but she never held a grudge. He abruptly shifted back into his human form.
"Hello, Luna Lovegood."
"Senior knows me?"
"I saw you at the start-of-term feast."
"Don't worry, Senior," Luna said, her voice gentle. "I won't tell anyone you're an Animagus or that you sneak out at night."
Dana tilted his head, mildly surprised.
"Aren't you out at night too?" he asked.
"No," Luna replied cheerfully. "I have a note from Professor Flitwick permitting me to look for things in the Castle these past few days."
Dana raised an eyebrow.
"Why don't you ask Professor Flitwick to use Accio to summon the hairpin?"
Luna shrugged.
"Professor Flitwick has so many students. He doesn't know what my hairpin looks like, so he can't summon it!"
Dana frowned, puzzled by her optimism.
He closed his eyes to recall recent events. Luna hadn't worn a hairpin at the feast. He had been focused on studying magic formations and hadn't interacted with many students. Then he remembered: in late October, Luna had lost a shoe, and while searching for it barefoot in the Castle, she had stepped on a magic formation. He had vividly noticed a hairpin in her hair at that moment—it was blue, fashioned like a raven.
Dana opened his eyes.
"Accio hairpin!"
Instantly, the hairpin flew down the spiral staircase—it had been sitting atop Ravenclaw Tower's steps.
"Here. Keep it safe, and head back quickly." Dana returned it to her.
Luna beamed. "I knew Senior Emrys could help me! Thank you!"
Dana nodded. "You can just call me Dana." As he said this, he transformed back into a cat and padded down the stairs.
Luna gently clasped the hairpin, her mood bright. She watched the slender feline figure recede down the corridor, whispering to herself, "Half ice, half flame… Senior—or Dana—how contradictory!"
Later that night, around 9:30, Dana—now transformed into an ant—crept through the crack in Gilderoy Lockhart's office door.
Despite the late hour, Lockhart's office was brightly lit as he sifted through fan mail.
Among the letters, some were from ardent admirers, others from critics who resented recent scandals—especially the disgraceful incident at Dentis Castle. He sorted them with practiced ease: fan mail to the left, haters' letters to the right. The trash bin—and area around it—was littered with ribboned fragments of hateful letters shredded by his Diffindo spell.
Dana the ant climbed onto the desk and watched Lockhart's performance, silently mimicking his handwriting with precision unmatched by any impersonator.
When Lockhart pulled out a letter sealed in pink, he nonchalantly tossed it into the "hater" pile. Dana seized the envelope, read the addressee: Donna Lockhart.
"Ah, Donna… wow," he mused.
He waited until Lockhart was replying to the fifth letter before simulating the Stupefy spell—Lockhart collapsed onto the desk with a thud.
Dana reclaimed Donna's letter, opened it, and read:
"My Dearest:
This is the fifteenth letter I've sent since your arrival at Hogwarts. Why haven't you replied?
Do you remember I told you last month that I'm pregnant?
I miss you so much, my dear. It's my first time being a mother, and I don't know what to do.
You're so knowledgeable; please, give me your advice.
Looking forward to your reply.
Your wife, Donna."
He shook his head. If Lockhart treated her like this, it was no wonder Donna Avery had been willing to go to Azkaban in his place.
With a sparkle of magic, he fitted the envelope back together using Reparo, then snuck the letter into Lockhart's answered pile.
He slipped through a portal and returned to his dormitory.
The next day at noon, Donna Lockhart received a reply at her home—it had been forwarded from Count Dantes's castle via a special owl Lockhart had arranged.
Her husband's handwriting danced across the page:
"My dearest Donna, seeing your words is like seeing you.
The work of a Hogwarts Professor is so busy I barely find time for fans—I even toss their letters into the trash. If I hadn't discovered your pink envelope today, I might have continued to miss your letters.
I am overjoyed that you're pregnant. This is our first child—and certainly not our last. You've worked so hard, and I deeply regret not being by your side.
Thankfully, my Hogwarts contract lasts only one year. When I return home, I will make up for every lost moment—double!
No short letter could express what I feel right now.
Donna, you are too wonderful! I love you to death!
Loving you always,
Your Gilderoy.
P.S. To avoid mix-ups, please send letters via Count Dantes's castle owls—they deliver exclusively to me. I promise I won't miss any."
Donna gasped, clasping her hand to her mouth. That elegant cursive—it had to be his!
Her past two months of anxiety vanished in an instant. She felt, for the first time, the happiest woman in the world.
She began writing a reply, then paused.
"He's so busy… I don't want to overwhelm him," she murmured, thinking aloud.
She continued slowly, "Once every half-month should feel reasonable. Yes—it's decided."
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