There was something unusual in the air the morning Elise Blake returned to classes. Whispers buzzed across the Gryffindor common room as students paused mid-sentence, eyes drawn to the sleek, obsidian-furred creature curled neatly atop Elise's bedpost. It was a cat—elegant, with deep violet eyes and a knowing air that made it seem far more aware than it should have been.
Elise said nothing. He simply offered it a glance, and the cat hopped down to follow him as though it had always belonged by his side.
"Did you get a cat over the holidays?" Seamus asked, eyeing it warily.
"Sort of," Elise replied. He didn't elaborate.
Down in the Great Hall, the cat followed with lithe grace, slipping past benches, ignoring other students, and settling comfortably on Elise's lap during breakfast. Professor McGonagall did a double-take when she noticed.
"Mr. Blake… I assume you've obtained the proper permissions for… that?"
Elise looked up calmly. "She's extremely well-behaved, Professor. Quiet, clean. Doesn't disturb lessons."
McGonagall narrowed her eyes but said nothing. Somehow, even she sensed there was something off about the creature—but not in any threatening way. More… ancient.
By midday, the black cat had become the talk of Hogwarts.
"I swear, she looks like she understands every word we're saying," Lavender whispered, watching the cat watch her back.
"I think she blinked when I said 'pretty,'" Parvati added.
"Where did you get her?" Hermione asked Elise during Herbology, trying not to sound too curious. The cat sat between the two of them, swishing its tail in the soil.
"She found me," Elise said with a small smile.
Hermione paused. "She's lovely. And smart. It's almost like she's guarding you."
Elise gave her a sideways glance. "Maybe she is."
The cat followed him into every class, perched beside cauldrons in Potions, hiding beneath desks during Charms, and once even jumping onto Professor Binns' lectern during History of Magic, completely unbothered by the ghost's monotone voice.
Snape gave Elise a suspicious look during Potions. "Blake," he drawled, "do tell me why there's a feline in my classroom. Is it meant to help you brew your draught?"
Elise didn't blink. "She supervises."
Snape's lips thinned. But the cat, instead of reacting, yawned and curled up neatly beside Elise's cauldron, as though mocking the professor with regal indifference. Even Snape said nothing more.
By now, students had taken to calling her Shadow. Some preferred Noir. Elise never corrected them. To him, she was Aethon—the reborn phoenix, cloaked in feline disguise. Her transformation after the holidays had come as a surprise, but somehow felt natural. The powerful, mystical flame-bird that had once saved his life now watched silently from the shadows, bound to him in a way no creature had ever been.
Only he could feel the magic within her. A subtle, glowing thrum in her presence. And when he stared into those purple eyes, he swore he could hear a voice—not of words, but of will. An unspoken bond, forged by his mother's legacy and sealed in phoenix fire.
And though none knew her true nature, the entire school buzzed with speculation.
"She follows him like a familiar," Dean remarked.
"Maybe she is one," Ron Weasley offered. "I read in Magical Companions Through the Ages that sometimes wizards don't choose their familiars—familiars choose them."
Elise overheard, but didn't comment.
That night, as he sat in the Room of Requirement—quiet and hidden—the cat lay atop the backrest of his conjured chair, purring softly as she watched the flickering magical fire. Elise stared into it too, thoughtful.
"You're not just a phoenix anymore," he whispered.
The cat opened one eye and blinked once.
"You're something more. Something… else. And I think they'll come for us."
The cat blinked again, as if to say let them try.
Elise leaned back in his chair. "Then let them."
He would carry his mother's burden. And now, with the phoenix in disguise beside him, he would no longer carry it alone.
That evening in the Gryffindor common room, the black cat had curled herself into a tight ball on Elise's lap, purring as his fingers absentmindedly stroked behind her ears. The fire crackled nearby, casting warm flickers across the red-and-gold banners on the walls. Around him, a small circle of students had formed—not around Elise, but the cat.
"She's the most graceful thing I've ever seen," Lavender Brown sighed, sitting cross-legged on the carpet with her chin in her hands.
"I still think we should name her," said Parvati Patil. "You can't just keep calling her 'the cat,' Elise."
Elise raised an eyebrow. "She doesn't need a name."
"That's so typically you," Hermione muttered, sitting a little apart from the others with a book on her lap—though she hadn't turned a page in several minutes. Her gaze flicked between the cat and Elise. "Every creature has a name. Names matter."
"She already has one," Elise said cryptically.
"But you haven't told us what it is!" Parvati said.
Lavender leaned in toward the cat, gently reaching out. "She looks like a… Velvet. Or maybe Midnight."
"She doesn't look like a Velvet," Hermione said without looking up.
"Well, what would you call her then?" Lavender asked.
Hermione closed her book at last, stood, and stepped toward the cat. For a moment, she and the creature simply stared at one another. Elise watched in silence, curious how the phoenix-in-hiding would respond.
"I'd call her… Nyx," Hermione said softly. "Goddess of night. It suits her."
The cat let out a tiny meow—delicate, but pointed—and flicked her tail once. Hermione smiled in quiet triumph.
"She agrees with me."
"She just made a noise," Parvati argued.
Hermione gave her a look. "You don't understand animal behavior the way I do."
Elise chuckled low in his throat. "She's called Aethon," he said at last. "But only I call her that."
Hermione blinked. "Aethon?"
"It's a phoenix name," Elise replied. "Ancient, like her."
"So she really is your familiar?" Lavender asked breathlessly. "That's so… romantic."
"Romantic?" Hermione scoffed.
"Oh, you know what I mean. Mysterious boy with a magical cat who only listens to him… It's like something out of a novel."
Hermione looked at Elise carefully. "She's no ordinary cat, is she?"
"No," Elise admitted. "But neither am I."
That answer silenced the conversation for a moment.
The fire crackled. The common room grew quieter. Outside, snow tapped softly against the tower windows. The mood had shifted, slightly. The girls felt it, even if they couldn't explain it.
Hermione stepped back, her brows knitting together. Something unspoken passed between her and the black feline, whose purple eyes glinted in the firelight. Then, without another word, Hermione picked up her book and sat beside Elise—not close enough to touch, but close enough to stay.
The cat stretched and laid her head down again.
Aethon had chosen her place.
And for now, that place was beside Elise.