You all have heard about cats and dogs, now get ready for cats and bats.
Today is a Saturday. No excuse to languish in bed, as others love to do – students and colleagues. And yet here Hecate is, staring at the ceiling. Breakfast is about to begin. Her appetite rarely wakes in the morning. She ignores a part telling herself sometimes, no appetite at all.
Hecate sits up and frowns, her stomach dropping. She's not alone.
Impossible. She grips the blanket – fallen to her stomach – and glances around the room.
...A cat. It blinks at her, once, slowly, before looking away.
It must be Morgana. It cannot be anyone else, a conclusion even Mildred Hubble is able to draw.
But as she observes this...visitor, Hecate realises it's not her, the fur not the dark colour that matches her leather robes. Indeed, it's fluffy, in a permanent state of freshly dried fur. Hecate catches herself wanting to comb through the fluff.
Mildred Hubble appears in her mind again. Whenever something is amiss, her signature is usually not far behind. Perhaps their cat is transported here: her mother keeping pets fits her, like so many humans love to tame animals. But as soon as Hecate ponders on this, she knows she's wrong. This is a stray – not a young one either – and there is...something that Hecate can't quite place it.
No, this is no ordinary cat.
Pity, she nearly transfers the cat to the nearest human village and leave it there. A part of her is curious, and common sense, not to mention her privacy so rudely disturbed, wins.
"Leave," she commands.
The cat sits, tail loosely wrapped around the paws. It watches her, chirps at her, and periodically looks away to discover the rest of the room.
Unacceptable. This is herroom, her personal chambers.
Hecate flings her blanket aside and rests her feet on the floor.
It grooms itself, her stare having lost the terrifying effect. At first, the tongue licks a front paw. Soon, a hind leg lifts and the intimate area is shown.
Hecate purses her lips, not quite sure if she is disgusted or shocked. She winks at Hecate. Just one spell, one easy transfer spell and this rude Cat – yes, with a capital letter, she is named now, and quickly rising on the list of things that give her headaches – will disappear. Out of sight, out of mind.
"Go," says Hecate, putting more authority in that word.
Cat stands – perhaps drastic measures won't be needed after all – stretches and yawns, showing long and sharp teeth. She trots to her dress, draped over a chair, tail pointing up and swishing from side to side with each step.
One eye twitches as Hecate watches.
She sniffs at the ends and pokes the leather, claws retracted.
"Stop." A stern tone that will frighten most witches, and yet somehow, Cat remains ignorant. Talking to Ada gives similar results. No matter how many times she tries to convince her – for her to listen to reason – Ada remains too stubborn.
Cat jumps on the chair, movement smooth. Hecate stands, hands clenched into fists. Fine, if she refuses to listen, she'll feel. Cat meets her gaze, slowly blinks once, lowers her head and rubs a cheek against the leather.
Hecate grimaces. As if Cat has already made herself at home here. That won't do.
She crosses her room, waits for Cat to meet her stare, and sweeps her dress aside. Cat loses her balance but – as expected – lands on four paws. A lingering miaouw, as round eyes stare up at her.
Hecate ignores her and changes, her lips thinning: cat hair is scattered everywhere on the leather. A quick spell purges most of the fur. At the same time, another twists her hair into a tight knot.
Unblinking eyes follow her hand, entranced by magic, by her. No, it's only a cat, she reminds herself. Still, her cheek flush.
Cat walks to her bed, wriggles her bottom, and hops on it with a graceful jump. She stretches on the mattress – length seeming to double in size – the same way as rabbits do. As if watching Ada donning her whoolly sweaters.
"No."
Cat yawns in response and looks away.
She clicks her fingers, the noise attracting her attention again. Cat understands the message – her bed is forbidden territory – but not before distributing as much fur as possible. This is as bad as that infuriating habit of Ada: cliche notes left in a drawer, lsmall gifts hidden in a pocket, pink hearts – sparkling with magic and...love – that follow her when she is alone.
Enough is enough.
The door clicks open with a wave of her hand.
"Go," repeats Hecate, gesturing towards the exit.
Cat races past her, decidedly not towards the door, but back to the chair, now using it as a platform to reach her desk. Her eyebrow twitches. Why is everyone ignoring her? Students not listening to a word Hecate says, teachers unwilling to change their outdated, ineffective teaching methods. Parents who think they know better.
"Cease this," she hisses.
She plops down on the desk and rolls on her back, uncaring that she's disturbing the scrolls and feathers carefully aligned with the corners of her desk. Eyes crinkle, beg for a good rub on the exposed belly.
"No," repeats Hecate again. Her voice is starting to sound like a detested cassette, repeating the same thing over and over and over. It never stops Ada – the growing collection of animal figurines and small, glass urns and pots and vases. It isn't stopping Cat.
Her eyes focus and dilate. That absurd glint returns again, as if captivated by Hecate. As if she's special – nonsense.
"No," mutters Hecate in frustration. She turns, stare prickling her neck.
After a moment, she turns back, just in time to see Cat crouching and wriggling her bottom. Again. No time to react, to stop her, to cushion the fall. A small part of her is prepared to rush forward and catch her herself – an action only...humans do. But miraculously, Cat reaches the wardrobe on the other side of the room without assistance.
Hecate exhales in relief. Cat knows. Whiskers twitch, a mocking chuckle. Somehow, she feels the magic humming inside Hecate.
She straightens her back and glares.
"This changes nothing."
Fur puffs up, as if showing Hecate her best side. It works. She stares, admires it even. Fingers ache to touch what surely must be warm and soft and silky. Whenever Ada lowers her head and pouts, the combined effect always sway her too.
That's it.
She marches out of her room – her own room, time must be spinning backwards. Paws patter on the floor as Cat slips through the door, evading the loud snap as the door closes behind them.
One, two, three, four steps before Hecate stops. One more thing she can try. A simple spell, more flashy than harmful. A last resort to chase this...nuisance away.
...Cat doesn't even flinch. In fact, that gaze returns – Hecate is not her keeper, nor worthy of that besotted expression. Hecate realises she has made a mistake.
Cat blinks. Hecate blinks back, slowly. Certainly not as a greeting. She pivots, marches away. Hecate ignores the presence shadowing her, quite sure if she turns around, a smug cat face grins back.
Ada is buried under paperwork. Figuratively, not literally. Deadlines can be...tricky, though Hecate disagrees. A long lecture awaits Ada once she's arrived. She can't fool herself, a part of her does this just to see Hecate in a less than calm state of mind.
She rolls up the scroll and lays it on the done pile. Rotating her shoulders and neck, Ada sighs as muscles relax.
Something in the corner pauses her. She's almost missed it – high spots are rarely the first places to look at, after all. Someone's here and watching her.
Ada gasps. A pleasant surprise. Usually only cats or frogs – or the occasional slug – find their way here.
It has been a while. They usually gather in the dungeons, where it's dark and peaceful. If only Hecate is here: Ada knows how much she loves bats.
"Hello there," she says softly.
It still surprises the bat. They flinch and glance away.
Ada smiles. It is to be expected. Deciding to give the bat time, she steers her gaze to the glass collection on her desk. The surfaces shine brightly, but there's always time to polish. Ada finds the task calming.
Dark eyes slowly focuses on her. Ada holds back another smile. It's worked.
She wonders what the bat is doing here, if they are lost. They're not part of the Academy – the castle isn't echoing them. It's not warning her either. Nothing seems amiss: a shy and hesitant bat is to be expected. Well, Ada has years and years of experience, not to mention her patience more than several times tested whenever Hecate's has vanished.
"Don't be afraid, you're safe here. You have my word," promises Ada. She means it every time she comforts a first year, unused to the new environment, flooded with new stimuli.
She dares a quick glance. The bat is huddling in a far corner, hanging in the classic upside down position. Wings have wrapped around the body, a living cloak, as if protecting the torso, the heart. Really, Ada will be the last person to harm them. And truly, who would want to harm this endearing ball of fluff?
"It's okay," she soothes.
One of the feet switching position. It gives her inspiration.
"Just a moment," requests Ada gently. She closes her eyes and focuses. Magic fills her, follows her directions. Invisible tendrils form tree branches and platforms all around her office. She resists the urge to add glitter and brightness and rich colours, fearing it might overwhelm the bat.
"Do you like it?" asks Ada once she's done.
Bats are intelligent, shrewd animals. They sense magic, the same as cats and frogs can.
Ada searches for any signs of distress. She'll open a window, even if she wants her new visitor to stay.
Ears flick as dark eyes observe the additions to her room.
"Don't worry. Take your time," she says quietly. Her mind rummages for bat facts. A clear image of Miss Bat appears, but she certainly is no bat, no matter how easily that connection is made – not to mention the many jokes.
The bat shuffles closer to the nearest branch, using the wings to climb the wall. Once they take wing, they barely fly. The body hovers, wings fluttering like a butterfly, and long legs grab hold of the branch, wings immediately folding back once there's contact. The branch wobbles from the impact.
If they miss – very unlikely, but possible – Ada will catch them. No one under her watch will be hurt.
The bat hangs upside down, nose twitching and round eyes gazing around.
"Very good," she praises, fighting the urge to applaud.
They take off quicker this time, feet grasping another branch. The weight rests on one leg as the face hides behind a wing. Far too adorable. Ada chuckles. The bat flinches, as if forgotten they are not alone.
Progress is slow as they play a game of peek-a-boo. The bat freezes whenever Ada looks at them, a few times even retreating. In any other situation it's endearing, but this isn't a game. Certainly not to the bat.
Ada pretends to work. She fills the silence with her own voice – glad that the bat has grown used to it – with Academy matters, and talks about students that worry her.
Bats are great listeners. Ada finishes some tasks. Hecate will be proud of her.
The bat finds a spot on the wall behind her. Ada reminds herself not to turn around and startle them. Yes, she will see them properly from here, but may end up losing all progress.
"You've done well," compliments Ada.
The bat crawls down to the bouquet of flowers sitting in a vase on a side table. The nose twitches, poking a petal. One wing nudges the stems, the other brushing against the vase.
"That's a gift, do you like it?" From a parent, if she's remembered correctly. Ada will never forget Hecate's reaction: resignation – not the first time gifts are left for Ada – but underneath it, something akin to jealousy.
Noticing Ada's gaze, the bat hides behind the vase. It's not working. Ada stifles a chuckle – what a cute darling.
"Oh, dear me, I haven't offered you anything yet, have I? Silly me," she chides herself and shakes her head.
She rummages in her top drawer…ah, there it is.
"Here you go. I hope it's not too sweet," offers Ada. She resists the urge to lay a piece of dried fruit on the palm of her hand.
The bat isn't reacting, isn't even gazing at her.
"No, not to your liking?" Ada deflates. A snack usually works. Sweet or savoury, young or old, human or witch. Unless said witch is Hecate. How difficult for her to become interested in food, let alone to indulge in potentially unhealthy food.
"Well, I'll leave it here," she says as she lays the pouch open in a prominent place on her desk. "In case you change your mind."
The bat chooses a branch above the desk and remains there.
"Ah, wait." She remembers Hecate's words, once casually muttered in a conversation. It brings her to another idea.
She scans the kitchen and smiles: fresh ingredients have just arrived. With a wave of her hand a collection of fruit appears in front of her, ripe and delicious. She notes to herself to bring the bowl back once done, and is sure this amount of fruit won't be missed.
Their gaze prickles her cheeks, before focusing on the fruit, in awe of her display.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Ada agrees. Magic always fills her with warmth and wonder, no matter how simple or noticeable a spell is.
"I hope this suits your taste better."
The bat is curious, and not scared anymore. Progress. Good, very good.
"Is that better?" she asks tenderly.
The answer comes with the bat dropping from the place above her. They hover for a moment, wings fluttering and deciding the course. The bat lands on the edge of her desk farthest away from her, performs a somersault to avoid knocking over objects. They take a moment and gauge this new vantage point, nose twitching adorably, large eyes unblinking.
"Hello," she greets again.
The bat seems black from a distance, but now that they are here, Ada realises she's wrong. The fur forms a pattern of dark and a lighter shade of brown. Ada loves patterns, loves it whenever Hecate chooses a decorated dress.
Round eyes glance at her paperwork – scrolls and parchments – as if offering to help. "Ah, your assistance is greatly appreciated, but I'm afraid this is something you can't help me with." Indeed, some contain sensitive information. For headmistress or deputy eyes only.
Then again...perhaps a small peek? But the bat makes her choice – ah, well. She squeezes through many of the obstacles on the wooden surface, shuffling closer and closer to the food.
The nose shivers, inhaling the scent of the fruit. Ada waits. Patience, she tells herself.
The bat chooses a grape and dares a small bite after some hesitation. Teeth nibble on the flesh. They gulp loudly.
A pause. Ada holds her breath. The bat leans closer and grabs another grape with the wings. They take a large bite – munching most adorably.
Ada chuckles and resists the urge to feed them by hand. It's difficult, but she's managing. So far.
Teeth puncture through the skin of the third grape. They slurp the juice and spit out the seeds, distributing it all over the desk. One seed bounces to the ground as the bat selects another grape.
It's rude to disturb an animal – well, anyone – while they are eating, but she can't help it anymore. Even Ada has her limits. Slowly, she reaches out and touches the back. It's softer and warmer than she remembers.
She gingerly strokes the fur.
"You like that, don't you?" It may be her imagination, the bat sighing and waddling closer to her. The mouth spits out more seeds.
"There is plenty more, take your time."
Protocol dictates that she put any foreign objects or living beings in the confiscation room. But this fine specimen shouldn't be confined. Ada fears, if left in isolation for too long – as some sort of punishment – the bat will wither away.
Ada snacks too – no need to waste dried fruit. She rests an elbow on the desk, chin in her palm, and gazes fondly at the bat.
"You truly are remarkable, I do hope you know that," sighs Ada. "You remind me of someone, do you know that? Someone very dear to me."
The bat ignores her, attention on the food.
She sighs again, too used to unanswered, unnoticed praises. Hecate and the bat make a fine pair.
A knock on the door, not loud, but enough for the bat to flinch. A drape falls from their mouth.
Their eyes meet. The bat tries to leave, but it's difficult to take wing from a low position. The body barrels towards her. Ada leans forward, scoops the bat up – hands cupping the trembling dear – and hides them in an inside pocket, not trusting any other hiding spot. Wings cling tightly to her sweater, tip of the claws brushing against skin, body leaning entirely on her. They grow silent and shiver.
There's little time. Ada hopes her expression isn't betraying too much – well, the grin is forgiven when she notices who is here.
Hecate leaves the door open, greeting fading in her throat. Magic dances in the office – warm and tingling – and the state of the desk... Should she even ask?
She's not at all fooled by that innocent look. Ada shows a similar face whenever she's donesomething she knows Hecate disapproves of...or not, when she should have. Her gaze falters, sensing movement someplace it should not be.
Magic hums. Hecate's prepared, even if Ada is still pretendingnothing is amiss.
Ada protects her precious treasure as best as she can, struggling as they are. She's learned from experience, one of the best ways to deter Hecate is to use herself as a human shield.
"Ada," she chides, irritation clear in her voice.
Step aside, Ada almost hears. Allow me to take care of this situation.
The head pokes out, ears rotating, as the bat finally wins the battle against her sweater.
Her arm falls to her side, body tense, but it's a different kind: Hecate is holding herself back. Dark eyes shine the same way whenever she's found a rare ingredient.
"Ada?" she asks quietly as she comes closer, feet dodging the seeds on their path.
"Before you ask, no, I don't know." It's the truth. Ada knows as much as Hecate.
Hecate hums. She takes a breath – many questions that need answers – but another interruption halts her.
A cry. It comes from behind her, a sound becoming more and more familiar to Hecate.
A cat, Ada identifies. Is that the reason why Hecate hasn't closed the door yet? It's quite unlike her.
"Hello, beautiful," she coos.
"Ada, stop."
"What?" asks Ada, one hand stroking the bat, patting the ears.
"Don't enable it. This isn't one of ours."
Ada knows: the fur isn't black and the castle has whirred softly, telling her a new visitor has arrived. But she can't resist, even if this cat barely acknowledges her – a rare occurrence indeed – her attention on the bat.
They wriggle and fall from the hiding spot. The cat hops on the desk, nudging objects aside.
Hecate holds up a hand – such insolence – but the bat lands on it and flaps their wings. A sound escapes her throat. Hecate refuses to think it's a squeal, as Pippa so loves to do.
"Hello, where did you come from?" Ada asks softly. The cat purrs, head booping her.
She glances at Hecate, her eyes on the bat. Ada chuckles quietly. As expected, the two of them together are too adorable.
"Is it correct to assume you don't know where this one is from?" Hecate asks, gesturing to the bat as they crawl on her hand, towards her arm. She can multitask – not a problem.
"No."
The bat climbs up slowly, mindful of the chain holding her pocket watch. Hecate hums.
The cat plops down in Ada's lap, ignores Hecate's stare, the same kind shown if a student is reckless and dangerous again. The bat distracts her, sniffs her neck, tickling her.
The cat spins, purring in delight. Hecate resists the urge to scoop her up, toss her out the window and strengthen the barriers – to recognise this particular Cat and never allow her in the castle again.
"That one," Hecate nods to the cat. "Has been stalking me. She shows little care for Academy property, nor for her own safety." Despite this, she hasn't intervened, not that much. She doesn't know why, but she can't remain angry.
"She struts around as ifthis place is her property." Hecate sniffs. The bat leans closer and pokes her cheek, a mocking kiss.
"Hmm, the bat has been here mostly. Timid and wary at first, but look how far they've come...Yes, we are talking about you!" she praises the bat as round, dark eyes meet hers.
Cat curls into a ball, eyes closed.
"Perhaps you can keep the bat. It has been a while, hasn't it?"
"And I suppose you will do the same with...Cat?" asks Hecate, seeing how at ease she is with Ada. She ignores her raised eyebrow. Yes, she's named, will that be a problem?
Hecate glances from one...guest to the other. Realisation dawns.
"It doesn't mean anything," Hecate resists, cheeks flushed.
Ada grins, absolutely delighted. Her suspicions are true, then.
"We certainly have to keep them now. Especially the bat, don't you think?"
"Ada."
"I must admit, it has secretly been a fantasy of mine. Can you imagine, Hecate? Twoof you-"
"Ada."
"Look, Cat agrees too," she holds Cat up to demonstrate her point. She meowls. Similar minds think alike, after all.
"You're incorrigible," says Hecate, but her words lack bite. The bat is hiding their face behind a wing, and turns the head to her neck.
"...Adorable."
"Please stop."
Ada can continue – oh, she can for hours – but she knows when she has pushed too far. Cat agrees. She squirms. Ada lets her back on her lap.
Her head butts her hand gently. She hops down, the same moment the bat takes off. They meet halfway and exchange very affectionate greetings.
The bat rests on the back of the cat, wings spread, as if hugging her.
They leave through the door. No one knows exactly who – or what, the castle itself a prime suspect – opens it. They are not seen again. Stranger things have happened. But then again, as Ada and Hecate meet the other's eyes, maybe this isn't such a strange thing.
Pro tip: don't search for bats on the web. You'll end up watching endless burrito bats videos.