As she quietly padded along the cold, empty corridor, midnight streamed through the windows in broken shafts, distorted by old glass that had warped over the years. Dust motes—unhindered by a thing like gravity—drifted and fell wherever they may, their lack of a shadow adding nothing to her own. All by itself, that cast a figure far longer than her normal one—which had nothing on her new, lengthy, 112-pound form.

And at the moment, that one was currently prowling about with ease.

Nearly two months after the incident with Church, Gracie had left the fumbling steps of her first change behind her—a long, long way behind her. No longer did she stagger around like a concussed lush. The cramping, too, had lessened; in time (and thanks to some good old-fashioned instruction), the shift had become more like a struggle to fit into a tight pair of pants than a painful change of bones. (Which was clearly not her best comparison, but there you had it.) Progress was progress however one put it, and in that casual stroll it showed; under that thick, rich coat of pale cream and black, limbs moved with an easy, deliberate gait. Her tail—almost as long as herself—swung low and heavy, back and forth, nearly dusting the stone floor.

Unlike the sad little cub she’d essentially been then, she moved with the grace of a young adult now, one that moved with more confidence than caution. The corridor, for the moment, was her territory, and for the sixth year it was all she could do to remember that—or even care to. Beyond the snow leopard shape (which made things a helluva lot simpler) concerns about prefects and professors were suddenly negligible, unimportant.

And so at the slightest noise, small, rounded ears twitched—and that domed head turned, those unusual eyes gleaming in the darkness.

   

The last few weeks had been dreadful at the least. There was that nonsense with Mr. Attwood, the fiasco that followed with Professor Kesali, Professor Maras' sudden interest in her and so much more. It was like everything she had avoided so far in her life was happening now. Amara was exhausted, completely drained of all form of energy, so when the school day had finally ended on that dreadful Friday, Amara made a run for the bedroom and threw herself at the bed. She fell asleep immediately, fully clothed and completely unguarded.

She woke up in the middle of the night, by courtesy of Freija and her incessant jumping on the bed. She let the cat out, and returned to bed, only to realize falling asleep again would be an impossible task. She suddenly felt angry, but not angry in the true sense of word, more a mingle of feelings that were strange to her. Perhaps frustrated, a bit scared, definitely confused, disappointed and most of all betrayed, betrayed by her own body, her own mind, as if two parts of her were at war—one part of her was conspiring against the other.

She quickly grabbed her violin from its case and silently made her way out of the dormitory. She remembered a rather desolate corridor on the third floor, the acoustic would be good enough, and it would hopefully contain the sound in the passage. She climbed the stairs in a hurry, but with delicate, silent steps. She almost bumped into a prefect making rounds at one point and remembered why she avoided being out after curfew. Detention was the last thing she would need right now.

---

She made her way to the corridor with awkward and unsure steps. She squeezed her hand around the violin's neck, a 1740 Guarneri del Gesú—prized possession passed down in her family for centuries. She took the instrument to her shoulder, tapped the bow on her thigh two times and took a deep breath. She positioned the bow on the strings and closed her eyes as she imagined the orchestra starting. She began the first movement, the Nocturne of Shostakovich's Violin Concerto No. 1.

The dark, pathetic tone was soothing, but at the same time unsettling, eerie. Flashes of her experiences in the past few weeks were passing in front of her closed eyes. Small details, looks, gestures, words that she had never given much attention before, were now evident and disturbing. Anxiety was building up inside of her, and a pained expression took over her face. There was so much she wished would never had happened, so much she had no idea how to deal with, and there was no one she could ask for help... Emilia wouldn't even understand, Elena was far beyond her reach, and Freija, as much as she was her only companion, was still just a cat.

She entered the Scherzo, the second movement, more powerful and sudden than it ought to have ever been. Her movements were furious, almost demonic, as it would suit the movement, but not Amara herself. She identified one of the feelings at the top of her thought stream as feeling lonely, and she was angry. She was never lonely, so why now of all times? Why was all this happening? This place was slowly turning her into what she had sworn ages ago that she will forsake. Her bow strokes were becoming increasingly hard and accentuated and she felt the entire storm of feelings and memories inside her head spilling out. With her eyes still closed she started walking forward to shake off the nausea raising up.

She stopped after a few steps and finished the song with one long stroke of bow. She opened her eyes as if awakening from the dead and took a desperate breath of air. She gasped for air, her chest ached horribly and her fingers were numb. She froze in that position, staring blankly at the end of the corridor. Tears were falling freely from her eyes but she did not feel them. Her knees bucked, and she gathered the violin at her chest to protect it.

She regained her breath after a few moments and raised to stand. She dragged her feet to a nook in the window and sat down, carefully putting the violin and bow next to her. She raised one knee to her chest and encircled it with her arms. She rested her head on her hands and felt the warm liquid of her tears, she wiped at them with spite and anger and then... she froze.

Right in front, two meters away from her there was by far one the most majestic and beautiful creatures she had ever seen. A snow leopard was standing right there! In the middle of an abandoned Hogwarts corridor! Amara's mind had emptied itself of its contents completely, she simply sat there as a statue with her mouth agape, tears still falling from her eyes, staring at the beautiful animal.

She tensed—again—as soon as those eyes finally did land on her-




When Gracie had heard the fourth year approaching—heard those footsteps gradually grow louder, registered the music as mere noise before she’d even realized what it was—the leopard had stiffened immediately, her fur suddenly on end as she hoped, hoped that they’d pass her by. Just one corridor, she wanted, one damn, bloody corridor she could get used to this form in without… worrying about people (–like Harcroft, for instance, or even Church, who had his own obligations to fulfill). It was hard enough finding the time and energy to practice—she still was a sixth year, after all, and therefore had regular exams to contend with on top of everything else. Couldn’t she just have this?

‘No,’ seemed to be her answer in the waif-like form of Amara Báthory—and the older Slytherin had paid for it with her poor, sensitive ears. On and on and on the girl had played, wreaking havoc on those taut, catgut strings with an intensity that set the leopard’s teeth on edge. The fourth year’s upset, disquiet, whatever the bloody hell it was—it agitated Gracie to her animal core, stirring every instinct there was for something as undomesticated as a leopard. With every fiber in its body, the feline wanted to run, to lunge, to remove itself from the source of its mounting panic; the girl inside it, on the other hand, just wanted the little blonde to shut up shut up shut up-

And so for a good five minutes the big cat had remained frozen, locked in place by its own indecision. Slowly—ever so damn slowly—the girl finally got those limbs moving again, until the cat was backing away, inch by inch, its belly fur still brushing against the ground but at least it was moving. Then, she/it could decide whether to fight or flee…

She’d managed to back up more than two meters, actually, but the little pureblood could be forgiven, because really—who could see proper while their eyes leaked like a sieve?

But, whether six feet or sixteen, the distance still wasn’t enough. Before Gracie could make up her mind, Amara had lifted her head… and was now giving the leopard the most off-putting look it’d ever seen. What had been… merely unusual-looking during the day (albeit in an admittedly ethereal sort of way) was now uncomfortably eerie at this time of night and from this point of view; the animal couldn’t read the intent in the part-veela’s stare, and the human girl didn’t want to. For from the Animagus’ perspective, the tiny, doll-like girl was staring at the cat as if it was the zenith of all her heart’s desires—Gracie didn’t even want to imagine the complication sudden proximity would bring.

From the feline’s perspective… There was no more hedging about it. Predators didn’t run.

With that in mind, they—that is to say, both cat and girl—settled on a decision. Ears flattening, hackles still raised, and the whole length of her body relaxing ever so slightly, Gracie had just enough control over her instincts to rise to her feet… and ever so casually turn her back on the girl—a sign of dismissal, plain as daylight.

Because the last thing she needed was a witness too terrified to run, but still had enough wits to scream.

Get out of here, kid, the tail lashed about lazily, as a slitted green eye kept watch over a shoulder. You’re not wanted. Go away.

She had been watching the leopard decide on its intention with awe inscribed all over her face. When it eventually turned its back to her, Amara relaxed and the wheels in her mind started turning again. This wasn't just a fox, or a niffler, this was a moderately large feline in the middle of a Hogwarts corridor. So, against her usual nature around animals, Amara decided to think before approaching it. She started rummaging through the compartments of her mind for all the information she had on snow leopards. She remembered they were native to Central Asia, living in alpine and subalpine climates, so the chances of it being here ought to be less than one to a thousand, or more. They supposedly also were great at camouflage, and quite secretive in nature, so this one being in the middle of a corridor wasn't exactly fitting to their behavior.

Finally, but not last, the fact that it did not attack or flee in foreign territory, made Amara stiffen once more. There were two options, this was either someone's pet, brought illegally at Hogwarts or... an Animagus. The latter made her want to leave as soon as the thought made it's way into her mind. She did not want a repeat experience of the one with Mr. Attwood. But it was such a beautiful creature, that the thought of not drinking in its majestic form, made her rather distraught.

She shook her head to arrange her curls and straightened her posture. She slowly slipped from the window frame and took a few steps forward. Suddenly, the thought that someone–a person, could've just witnessed her complete meltdown, stopped her in her tracks. She took a deep breath and calmed herself, this was not the time to be thinking that. She took another step and she was now directly in front of the leopard. She lowered herself on her knees and rested her behind on the soles of her feet. She knew how incredibly vulnerable she'd be from that position, but hoped trust would win over attack. Just to be sure however, she had one hand locked around the rose knob of her wand.

She slowly inclined her head forward, in a short bow and carefully studied the animal. She realized it was a female, not quite adult, but rather adolescent to young-adult, by her size and body conformation. She noticed the eyes, and knew instantly magic was involved in this animal. Snow leopard had grey eyes or very pale green eyes, but this was a rather more vivid green than normal. The encounter with Kr. Attwood, came back to her in a flash, and she felt her entire body go rigid. What if this was an Animagus as well? What if it would be happening again? Was somebody trying to punish her?! But for what? What had she done, that deserved such a thing? She had been holding her breath for a few moments, shock instilled in the expression on her face. There was no rationalizing with her now, she was completely consumed by the idea that this was an Animagus. "Will I forever assume that? Will I not be able to even have creatures as my refuge, my companions... Why?" she thought to herself.

There was no, dawdling about it. She had to calm herself, and face the creature, whether it actually was or not an Animagus, she would find out. However, if she would be proven wrong in her assumptions, Amara was sure to laugh hysterically upon realization of her new-found paranoia. She took a deep breath, arranged her facial expression carefully and looked the leopard straight in the eyes.

"Normally, I'd try to tame you, and succeed" she said in a calm, low voice. "But we both know, in this circumstance it would be rather ridiculous and very probably, impossible, no?" she continued in a rather amused tone. "You have a rather beautiful form, I have to say—but the eyes, those will be a problem."

At the first sign of movement on the younger girl’s part, the Animagus was already moving, still tense—tight—wary—as she backed a step or so away. Too damn suddenly, the girl was close—too close. Sticking around might’ve been her first mistake (-the second glaringly obvious now), but Gracie wasn’t that much of a fool. There wasn’t an impshit chance in hell she was going to sit still like some kind of… some kind of Christmas present.

Besides, what the leopard was failing to pick up now, the girl inside it was. And she was smelling the coming of trouble. The stillness in the kid’s expression was just too searching, too calculating—she could practically see which tracks the girl’s train of thought was taking across her face. Misplaced pet, spell gone awry, Animagus… –All perfectly befitting of a Slytherin to assume, of course, but none boded well for this one at all.

And so, at the look in Amara’s eyes, at that too calm voice, at the words that fell from those doll-like lips, that figurative stink exploded on the horizon like a Hiroshima cloud.

Those green eyes burning gray under the cold shafts of moonlight (and that tail fluffing up like a goddamn porcupine), Gracie stared at the smug look on the part-veela’s face… and struck.

Like liquid silver the leopard moved, those powerful haunches rolling—loosing—lifting—until the cat hit the girl like a breaking wave before she could even use her wand. Fury ran from tail to fang, a sickly shudder of animal hate and her own until the girl thought she would puke; this girl—who smelled wrong, spoke wrong, moved wrong—hadn’t left her alone, hadn’t gotten the message, had ignored it the moment it seemed that there was something to be gained. And to the amateur Animagus who wanted her gone, the desire was so, so strong-

-that those hind paws struck the girl and shoved, the lunge turning into a kick when the leopard spun, twisted in midair, until the girl had more than a hundred pounds of cat rebounding from her middle.

She—the leopard—hit the ground with a thud and deftly spun around, so that she was facing the girl before striking again.


Under thick cream fur, muscles coiled.

The smell of the dense leafy night coated the black hooded shrug and black dress that wrapped around Naomi's form, as the witch dug and wrapped her toe socks around stone and vine until she pulled herself up into the edge of the top of one of the tall cold stone windows. Naomi then pulled herself into the edge of the window, one of many places that caught the shadows casted by the waning moon, giving Naomi enough confidence and cover to wait and check for patrolling prefects or wandering ghosts. Only silence lingered in these Hogwarts halls.

So the witch shimmied over to a pillar and hugged it with her legs and braced her arms against it, then she let gravity drag her down to the ground and finish the work for her. The witch then continued to stick to the shadows, only daring to make noise when paintings snorted in their sleep--the magical socks and tights that helped her climb and move also made it easier to remain quiet. Shoes could be such a hassle sometimes.

Then that's when the silence broke. A violent cacophony of strings shuddered through the air and paintings suddenly awoke as Naomi bent down on one knee as she rested her head on her raised one, it helped keep her unnoticeable in the shadows, but it also kept her from cursing the idiot who thought it was a bright idea to wake up half the castle so she could practice her violin. And there were only so many people who did practice that instrument.

With curiosity getting a firm hold on the fourth year Slytherin she stalked her way towards the noise, until it finally stopped, and she arrived at an abandoned corridor. As she bent down and looked to where dim rays of light decorated the corridor she saw a teary-eyed Amara looking at a snow leopard. Naomi could only cringe for the creature.

Hopefully her roommate would leave the creature alone, and let it run off. Normal snow leopards weren't native to the UK, but who knew what a one from the wizarding world could do. Naomi knows her second eldest brother has handled enough of them. But Bathory, instead of letting the creature continue walking away made the two worst mistakes. She kept on guard as she let her hand fell onto her wand and kept eye contact with the creature. She sealed her fate.

As the creature pounced the other Slytherin, Naomi reaached for her own wand as the leopard rebounded off the girl--and landed a few meters in front of Naomi, with its back to her. From her crouching position from her pitch-blatk corner, the hooded witch flicked her wand and quickly muttered a few shield spells, a physical one and a reflective one, to keep Amara and the creature from tearing each other apart.

Then, without any light to aid either Amara or the leopard in getting a clear view of her, Naomi slipped her wand up her sleeve, hiding it as she focused and morphed her vocal chords until she hummed a gentle guttural growl--keeping the wandless magic her own secret between the three. Then Naomi lowered her head, dropped her shoulders, and pulled herself into the dim nightlight with her body still low to the ground.

"Normally, Bathory?" Naomi's voice was a gentle and curious hum as she moved into to the cat's view, without running into her own shield spell, "Surprised you could tame a puffskein if you're dense enough to assume anyt'ing can be normal--," the witch then bent a knee and rested in one spot, her white smile glinting from beneath the shade of her hood, "'specially in 'di wizarding world--" her voice still was gentle and melodical as her harsh criticism continued, "moreso at Hogwarts."

"So I'm not sure why you're treating her different than she looks--" Naomi cast her hooded head to the side as she looked at the leopard's paws, and then glanced at the creature's face before returning her gaze to its paws again, "Grey-green eyes, strong limbs, white fur... aggressive... threatened... textbook snow leopard," she nodded her head back to Amara, still keeping hit low, "--not sure what your teary eyes see. So for sure?" Naomi moved a little bit more, keeping her movements casual, low, and submissive--as unthreatening as possible--but her voice was still gentle and audible, "She's nothing short of wild."

She sensed the leopard tense and ready for attack, and knew that instant that it would attack, but for whatever reason, she hadn't even tried to mutter a non-verbal spell, much less actually use her wand. There was some sadistic part of her, that wanted the opportunity to attack the person inside that leopard form and force it into submission, but she couldn't very well attack first, it would bring too much trouble. The moment she felt the raw strength of the animal against her chest, she regretted and cursed her decision. Before she had time to compose herself, the leopard swiftly turned around and rebounded off of Amara's small frame with a kick.

Amara quickly gathered herself off the floor and moved some large steps back, keeping her eyes on the animal. She would deal with her later. She immediately felt a foreign magic rush around her. But before she could identify the source of the magic, she felt a sharp pain in her guts. The petite witch cursed silently and berated herself mentally for her rather stupid actions. She non-verbally cast a minor and rather ineffective healing charm, that would at least help with some of the pain. Before she could decide on her next step she heard a growl soon followed by the unmistakable accent of her roommate, Miss Foley. Amara immediately tensed and her face changed to a cold mask, with slight hints of disgust. There was something about the girl she did not like, perhaps her bluntness, perhaps her rather temperamental behavior at times, but she also had an inexplicable interest in the girl. She was like her in terms of blood purity, but none of the restrictions and rules taught to her seemed to apply to Miss Foley.

She dragged her feet back to the window, and heavily let her body lean on the wall—that charm truly was useless. She listened to the girl talk, rather amused at her words, there was speaking with whole knowledge of the facts and speaking just to say something. The girl's words fell into the latter category.

"Miss Foley" she inclined her head in greeting. "I will ask you to pardon my rather—disheveled appearance But, as you have —I believe— silently witnessed what just happened, I hope you will be understanding?"

She smiled weakly, an awkward, mechanic smile. She encircled her abdomen with her arms as she felt it pulsing with a sharp pain. She raised herself on her toes, and clumsily climbed on the frame of the window.

"This" she looked at the animal "is no ordinary leopard, or else I actually would've tamed it by now" she said looking at Miss Foley, accentuating each and every word. "Ever since I was little, I've had a way with animals." she said in a calm, monotonic voice. "I don't know why, really, perhaps because I prefer to consider them my equals, instead of... humans. And it has always worked in some form or the other. But this is not just an animal, it's a sentient, conscious, rational being... I know it!" her brows were furrowed, while analyzing the animal again. "From past experiences, one rather... fresh, I conclude someone's" —pointing at the leopard— "been taking a midnight stroll in their Animagus form. I don't know if you agree, Miss Foley. But it is so" she continued, her eyes intent on the animal with a blank expression.

"And you" the words cold and threatening directed at the leopard "I would've let that go with no problem whatsoever, if the situation involved an animal. As it is not the case, I can only assume your intent was to hurt or maim, or else you could've simply walked away" her hold on her wand tightened. "Would you be so kind as to reveal your true form, so we might discuss this situation?" she said calmly, but in a threatening voice as if to say "Or I will force it out of you."

That soft, gentle growl—and then the arrival of a more comforting, familiar smell—jolted her out of that furious haze like nothing, perhaps, ever would. It had been unexpected as hell, for one, and the very last thing neither girl nor cat had thought they’d hear in a situation like this.

Surprised enough that the cold little Báthory was momentarily forgotten, the leopard jerked its head in attention, eyes darting to the side as an ear swiveled the rest of the way… and stopped, when it turned out that she didn’t need to; Naomi had stepped into view.

Who was moving—and speaking—with respect.

Although a truly wild animal Gracie was not, an amateur she still was. Much to the older Slytherin’s displeasure, she struggled with her own instincts still (mastering the ability, after all, depended on one’s ability at overcoming them) and lost the battle more than half the time; too frequently she found herself distracted in this form, reacting to the littlest things in the most feline of ways (i.e., spitting, scratching, snarling…) …and often trying not to, such as when an entire floor became familiar, or a pet was unfortunate enough to cross her path. It was damned troublesome (not to mention rather embarrassing) on those occasions it threatened to get out of hand, but that was the sad, sorry truth: once on four legs, Gracie Slant was an animal. There was still human thought going on, yeah, but overriding the smallest of reflexes took more effort than she liked.

She was also, unfortunately, prey to some of the oldest, most basic rules—ones that, for ignoring them, Amara had paid the price.

Naomi, on the other hand… Although recognition—and then relief—hit the Animagus almost painfully, genuine ease still came at a Fire Snail’s pace. The dark-haired witch’s manner helped, true enough, but it was hampered by Gracie’s own caution, too; it wasn’t unknown that the two of them were close—whether they were fighting it out or hanging out, catching them together was a rather common sight to see. People knew that.

Without being in possession of all the facts herself, Amara was only jumping to conclusions. The next worse thing would be giving her the impression that Naomi actually knew.

(Internally) sighing regretfully, Gracie gave her best friend a brief, disinterested glance and looked away. All of a sudden her paw was more interesting than the two fourth years combined, and without further ado the cat melted to the ground and proceeded to lick-

"And you" the words cold and threatening directed at the leopard "I would've let that go with no problem whatsoever, if the situation involved an animal. As it is not the case, I can only assume your intent was to hurt or maim, or else you could've simply walked away" her hold on her wand tightened. "Would you be so kind as to reveal your true form, so we might discuss this situation?" she said calmly, but in a threatening voice as if to say "Or I will force it out of you."

Slowly, almost sleepily, the leopard slanted its eyes at the girl, that long, pink tongue still dragging along the length of her limb, until its tip retreated with a lazy flick. The threat hadn’t impressed, it was easy to see; through the shimmer of dual shields they met the partblood’s gaze evenly, more apathy evident in them than those empty blue eyes could ever exude.

That much, the leopard’s stare seemed to say, was all the girl would ever deserve.

It had been a long night for Naomi already, and she was honestly ready to crawl back into bed. One of Amara's monotonic droning talks was not something she was currently in the mood for--the Jamaican witch always liked it better when her roommates didn't talk. So as Naomi cast a glance over to the leopard, who now decided to lay down to take a bath, the raven-haired Slytherin felt a hint of jealousy. She would love to suddenly tune out Amara so she could fix her nails, but for the sake of being rational and making Amara didn't offend a creature Naomi chose to listen.

With her voice still sweet and melodic the hooded witch spoke again, "So animals are you're equal, but 'dey aren't sentient, concsious, or rational," she lifted up an arm and propped it on her knee, "So it sounds like you t'ink they're wind-up dolls?" her question sounded innocent and light--a trick well-learned from Occlumency lessons despite her clearly mischievous smile still peering from between her lips.

Of course the next bit of story, about the animagus, caused a throat chuckle to tickle Naomi's voice, "Really?" her voice sank calmly into the room, "So rather than be rational--you'd pick a fight wit' a wild animal, pretendin' it'sn a very rare animagus, so you can feel better 'bout yourself?"

Naomi looked back at the leopard before regarding her roommate, "Sounds like you also got trampled in your past experience too, and now you're just sore, delusional, and mental--Not like 'dere isn't a giant magical forest right outside 'dese doors?"

But once Bathory delivered her threat to the creature Naomi shook her head, keeping calm as her voice cooly flowed, "You're were asking for more than a hard kick from reality," the witch's head then quirked to the side with a satisfied nod as she added, with far too much amusement prickling her tone, "And I will gladly deliver the second, if you don't calm down and drop this nonsense." The creature had just calm down, and now the genius Bathory was going to wind it up again. Hopefully the other witch would just settle down, like the leopard had done.

At least Amara was right about one thing, sometimes animals could be better than humans.

The girl was getting on her last nerves, she did not remember insulting her and she demanded to be treated with the same respect. Her face was tinged with an angry red and words deemed inappropriate by any class were coming to thought. She had been preparing to say some of those words to Miss Foley when she felt a tingling sensation going upwards on her leg. She shook her leg slightly, but the sensation intensified and it now reached the back of her knee. She quickly jumped off the ledge, as the feeling was getting incredibly ticklish. She shook her leg and waved at it with her hands, when laughter erupted out of her, a clean, rather low laughter, but a laughter nonetheless. When the sensation reached her thigh, she slapped the place and saw a small spider falling defeated to the floor.

She raised her head to look at the two, the girl and the leopard, and shock took over her face. The laughter died instantly and with her mouth agape she froze in place. She quickly recovered, straightened her shirt, wiped at some imaginary lint on her shoulders, and retreated to lean on the wall. She opened her mouth to say something, but with absolutely no idea what to actually say. All her actions tonight, now seemed as if they were not her own, as if someone else had been thinking in her stead. Why had she not defended herself? Why had she not left the moment another person came? Why had she been out at this hour anyway? Just, why was she here? She could not even remember how it had come to this.

"I'm sorry—spider..." she said, as if it was something completely normal to say in the situation. She cleared her throat softly and looked around the corridor as if it was suddenly a work of art she had been ignoring until now. "I have to... apologize for my behavior, it was completely inappropriate" she said still looking at the same spot on the wall, with her cheeks reddened. "I have not been myself lately," —she continued in a small voice— "I don't know why I did that. It was careless of me, I should know better."

She looked at the leopard and suddenly the idea of it being an Animagus seemed ridiculous, but somewhere deep inside she knew there was something wrong about it. Just now, it was just sitting there, as if listening to their conversation. She shrugged the idea, and turned her look towards the Jamaican witch.

"I'm sorry, Miss Foley, for having witnessed such—ridiculous behavior, I assure you it will not happen again" she told her in her usual, cold voice.

 She had calmed down, finally. There was much she needed to figure out, she felt foreign in her own body and mind, all she wanted was to retreat back to the dorm and sleep. But her feet wouldn't listen, she was stuck in place, as if waiting for something to happen. Then without being able to hold back she found herself thinking out loud in a rather curious voice "Still, I can't help but wonder, just what is a feline native to Central Asia, doing in a Hogwarts corridor..."

The other witch's face lit up with anger shrouded by the indigo and midnight blue hues of he corridor--but Naomi just slipped the tip of her wand between the tips of her slim fingers, ready to reinforce whatever was lingering of the shield spells she cast moments before, but then Amara suddenly got the jitters.

She began to slap herself and laugh like she were possessed until she finally caught the perpetrator: a spider.  The corner of Naomi's lips parted into a small grimace as the girl suddenly changed tone. It was a quick, strange, and embarrassing switch, one the tan Slytherin could not quite comprehend. So when the apology came Naomi rolled her lips together doubtfully, "Sure," she said said with calm disinterest.

But then she wouldn't get off about the leopard--you'd think it was her arch-nemesis or something. Apparently the leopard was not interested nor aware of it. With the tension in the room calming Naomi's spells finally faded away, and she began talking again.

"Mmn," Naomi hummed with some gentle curdle of curiosity, "Gonna say, again, same reason one of th' most magical forests in Europe has been sitting right outside th' window for hundreds of years?" the witch bobbed her head towards one shoulder, "You taking up selective hearing, Bathory?" her simple and light tone finished as she shook her head, gave a faint sigh, and then pulled herself into a crouch as she raised her knees of the floor, stood on her tip toes, sat on her heals, and hung her arms off her knees.

"You can't seriously, after 'di creatures who've come through 'dese halls over th' years, t'ink a snow leopard is that out of place? Even wit' who we have as a creatures professor?" Who knew, maybe he was keeping some snow leopards for one of the NEWT students, maybe it had been living in the forest for a while, maybe it wasn't actually a snow leopard and just looked like one--sure it was a mystery, but as long as the creature wanted to sit far away from them and mind its own business it was most likely going to remain one.