Work Text:
The Alliance roundtable conference was crucial for preparing Claude for his future, but the bickering lords caused him to miss out on something else that he looked forward to: quality time with Teach.
He hadn’t gotten rusty without her guidance—Judith made sure of that by checking his homework every day and quizzing him to death about battle formations. When he got back to Garreg Mach, Byleth offered to give him extra magic lessons to make up for what he missed. Now they’re in the courtyard at the monastery, standing in the grass still damp from this morning’s rainfall. He still hasn’t gotten back into the groove of things, but he knows a way to make schoolwork exciting and educational.
“Can we try illusion spells next?” he asks Byleth.
Lysithea scowls next to him. “They don’t serve much purpose in combat.”
Claude didn’t mind her tagging along for the lessons since she was always eager to learn more, but he’d forgotten what a spoilsport she could be. “Not according to this,” he corrects. He walks over to his satchel and takes out a frayed tome he found deep in his grandfather’s library. Full of spells that dated back to ancient Fódlan, it kept him occupied during the carriage ride to and from Derdriu. “We can make ourselves invisible or hypnotize enemies into not attacking us,” he explains to Byleth.
A twitch of ambivalence appears on her face. “Has this been approved by Seteth?”
“He doesn’t have to know,” Claude teases with a wink.
Lysithea tugs on the book for a closer look and scrunches her nose. “This is full of advanced incantations. I can’t even decipher some of these formulas…”
“Mind if I hypnotize you, Teach? I’ve had plenty of time to practice.”
Byleth turns away with a raised hand. “No. Stay focused on your wind magic.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun! Don’t you want to see how much your favorite student has grown?”
“You wish you were the favorite,” Lysithea grumbles under her breath.
After a tense moment, Byleth’s skepticism falters. She steps back from Claude and gestures at herself, an invitation to put a spell on her. “Make it quick.”
As if she could ever deny him. Feeling spoiled and satisfied, he squints at the fading text for the hypnotic pattern spell. He mouths the words to himself as he points his arms at Byleth, then calls the spell out. Suddenly, a cone of blue lightning zaps out of his palm. He watches it bounce from pillar to pillar, striking a stray black cat napping by the bushes. The cat yowls and darts behind Byleth just as the spell hits her in the center of her chest…
And transforms her into a plump cat.
Claude and Lysithea trade horrified looks. The cat’s coat is the color of Byleth’s deep teal hair, and she wears her medallion as a charm-like collar. She blinks as slowly as Byleth does as a human. Though her neutral expression could mean anything, Claude knows she feels far from enthusiastic.
“You cast a polymorph spell!” Lysithea shrieks.
Claude glances at the tome, his heart pounding through his ears. “But I read the right one. Didn’t I?” Are his eyes deceiving him? Which one did he read?
“Professor? Can you hear me?” Lysithea waves her hands in front of Byleth, who just pounces on her knees with a new smidge of panic in her wide eyes. “We have to hide her. Now.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Claude tries to pick her up, but she jumps back as if she’s stepped on a hot coal. He reaches for her again, but she huddles behind Lysithea’s ankles and turns away from him. “Is being disobedient a side effect?”
They manage to rush her into the Golden Deer classroom without being seen and lock the doors. Then they ransack all the shelves for spellbooks, definitely breaking Seteth's rigid rules of propriety. Claude shuffles through Byleth’s desk and finds books on tactics and moral codes, but nothing on reversing spells.
“We’ll have to sneak into the library later,” he sighs, stepping over the pile at his feet.
Lysithea gives him an incredulous look. “We? You made this mess, so you get yourself out of it.”
Fair enough, he supposes. Fortunately, it’s the end of the school day. He can keep a level head in high-pressure situations, but this is Teach, a second deity to Garreg Mach. If people notice she’s missing, Rhea will send every knight across Fódlan to find her. Claude thinks fast, unfastening his cape and twisting it around him into a sling. Byleth cooperates and hides inside, burrowing against his chest as he dashes for his room. Strange looks come from both students and monks, but what’s new?
All they can do is hide for now, leaving him with nothing to do but read through the tome for the hundredth time. Some time passes when he finally notices the sun has set. The dinner hour must be halfway over by now. He picks up Byleth from his lap and plops her on the bed. “I’ll bring you back some food, all right?”
Except she tries to follow him out the door, meowing in disapproval and swiping at his feet. “Whoa! You talk a lot more than you do as a human.”
Whatever sassy thing she mewls back is cut off by him shutting the door.
He spends half of dinner picking at his food, avoiding Lysithea’s judgmental gaze. When the dining hall clears out, he waits until the staff starts cleaning the tables to sneak behind the counter and swipe the leftovers. When he gets back to his room, he dumps two fish, his last fox skewer, and a bowl of water on his desk. “Best I could do for a feast,” he says to Byleth.
She doesn’t protest. Just the sight of her tearing meat off the fish bones tugs at Claude’s heartstrings. He couldn’t have pets in Almyra. His parents thought they left messes and his brothers wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of finding happiness in any form. Only the stray cats who wandered up to him in the alleys seemed to be the only creatures who didn’t fear or resent him. By instinct, he rubs Byleth’s fuzzy head as she eats. She peers at him with such intense wonder, piercing through his soul. Even as a different creature, she never fails to look at him like he’s a real person.
“I promise I’ll fix this,” he murmurs. “When have I ever let you down?”
He hopes the sound of her steady purring means she believes in him.
-
By morning, the spell remains. Byleth nudges Claude out of his attempt to sleep in a little late, pawing at his chest until he rolls out of bed. Then she runs to the door, scratching on the wood as she stares at him with blazing fury.
“Oh. Nature calls, huh?” He puts his uniform on and starts tying his cape into a sling again. Sudden knocking at the door scares Byleth into hiding under the bed. Claude hates to admit it, but hearing Lorenz and Hilda’s voices behind the door put him on edge, too.
“Good morning!” Hilda sings before he can fully open the door. Then her gleaming eyes drop to his cape-turned-sling. “Um, what’s up with your outfit today?”
Lorenz sniffs, frowning like he’s caught a whiff of something pungent. “And have you been hoarding food in your room?”
Claude stiffens. He must’ve left Byleth’s fish bones on his desk. He takes a sidestep to block their view, casually leaning against the doorframe. “My friends, must you ask so many questions this early in the morning?”
Such casualness apparently gives Hilda probable cause to push past him and let herself in. She glances around, brows perking up when she hears a jingling noise. Claude gulps as she drops to the floor to look under the bed.
“Is that the professor?!”
Lorenz takes a look, too, and sputters in shock. “Just what in the goddess’ name have you done to her, Claude?!”
Claude shushes their dramatic selves and carefully shuts the door. “I’ll explain everything, but I need to sneak her out of here first.” An idea sparks as he looks at Lorenz. “Your tea basket should work. Can you go get it?”
“Pardon? You are not putting an animal anywhere near my belongings.” He loosens his curled lip when Byleth tilts her head at him. “I mean no offense, Professor. I’m sure you practice proper hygiene in your normal form, but I cannot trust what I do not know.”
“You can worry about washing your fancy teacups later!” Hilda gripes. “We’ve got to help the professor.”
Lorenz gives in to the plan, not without muttering about how huge of a fool Claude is, of course. They scoop Byleth into the basket, agreeing to let Claude take her to the classroom alone. The problem with evading suspicion is being his normal self—and it doesn’t help that he’s always perceived as someone up to no good. The perplexed looks from other students once again come at him like daggers, but he chooses to be the bigger person and return a polite smile. When he makes it to the classroom, he sees Lysithea and Ignatz are the first ones in their seats like diligent little bees.
“Did you fix our… problem?” Lysithea slowly asks.
“Still working on it.” Claude opens the basket a crack, but Byleth leaps out of it yowling, making all three of them run for cover. As everyone else filters in, Claude is forced to explain his blunder, humiliated to see his friends’ faces contort with disbelief. And while it’s adorable to see them fawning over their furry professor, his entire future is on the line. Imagine getting kicked out of the Officers Academy for zapping his professor into a cat… His ailing grandfather just might finally give up the ghost.
The person least amused by the situation is Leonie, who stays seated with her arms crossed. “We’re leaving for Conand Tower tomorrow. We can’t march into battle with a cat leading us!”
Meanwhile, Marianne cradles Byleth like a baby. It might be the first time Claude has seen her smile in months. “Maybe we can read through the books again?” she meekly suggests. “I’m sorry if that’s not very helpful…”
Ignatz nods in agreement. “She’s right. The answer is always closer than you think.”
“Let’s get to work then!” Hilda decides with a clap of her hands. “Ignatz, you, Raphael, and Lysithea go through the shelves on the right. Lorenz, Marianne, and I will take the left side.”
Raphael palms the back of his neck, humming an unsure note. “I’m no good with books. But did you feed the professor yet, Claude? I’ve got some jerky I can share with her!”
While everyone goes to their stations, Claude reminds himself to relax. Anything is possible if they just put their brilliant little heads together. Besides, Seteth hasn’t dropped by unannounced to sit in on Byleth’s lectures in over a month. They just might be able to get away with having a pet for a day.
Byleth hops from table to table, reading over their shoulders and twisting her head every time a voice echoes near the door. She doesn’t nap or zip across the room, remaining tranquil as her everyday form. Unfortunately, they get nowhere by midday. Claude even volunteers to go to the library by himself, not wanting to force his friends any deeper into the mess he’s made. But after two hours of flipping through books on both floors, there’s no luck again. He’s certain he would have remembered something as splendid as a polymorph spell. He rubs his bleary eyes as he walks out of the library, startled as he almost collides with someone. He looks up in time, finding himself face to face with a broad chest and a glare that makes his blood run cold.
“Hey, kid. Claude, right?” Jeralt gruffly asks.
For a moment, he forgets how to breathe. Cue his soul leaving his body in three, two, one… “Yep, that’s me,” he manages to squeak out.
“Have you seen your professor? She was supposed to pick up her silver sword from the blacksmith this morning.”
The longer Claude stares into his stony eyes, the faster he runs out of excuses. He blurts out what sounds the most logical: “She was feeling feverish in class earlier. I think she’s resting in her quarters.” As horrible as he feels for lying—to the greatest knight who ever lived, mind you!—nothing can stop him from sympathizing with the guy. He’s just a father looking out for his daughter.
“Huh. That kid’s never been sick a day in her life.” He stares down the hallway for a moment, thinking hard behind his steely gaze, then lets out a resigned sigh. “All right. I’ll go check on her later.”
As soon as the captain is out of earshot, Claude sprints down the hall toward his room. He hasn’t checked on Byleth in a few hours and suddenly feels like a neglectful… student? Caretaker? Temporary cat dad? Whatever he may be, he’s starting to feel underqualified for once. But he almost leaps out of his skin when he sees his classmates are already inside. They’re huddled around Byleth like she’s like the star of her own show, watching her paw at a toy Hilda must have strung out of ribbons.
“Don’t you think this is patronizing?” Lysithea asks Hilda. “You’re treating her like a child.”
“We’re entertaining her! She’s got to keep her strength up since she can’t swing a sword right now.”
“Jeralt’s asking about her,” Claude interrupts. “We need to fix her tonight.” He shoots a nervous glance at Leonie. “Do you think you can keep him distracted? I’m sure he’ll listen to you.”
“Distracting him will just make things worse. He might be a grouch, but he’s not mean enough to not see his kid for a whole day.” She wrings her hands, a rare sign of weakness from someone so strong-willed. “Look, maybe it’s time to ask for help. Professor Hanneman probably has some tools lying around that can reverse the spell.”
Byleth lets out a worried purr, making Hilda clutch her to her chest. “Like those scalpels that could poke your eyes out? No, thanks.”
“Yeah, no way we’re cutting the professor open,” Raphael adds.
They fall quiet, pondering hard like they’re back in class answering one of Byleth’s tricky questions. Then Lysithea slowly stands up, appearing as if she’s swallowed a bitter pill.
“I have an idea. But it involves bringing another person in… and admitting there’s someone who works as hard as I do.”
She only trusts Claude with the plan, so she leads him to the empty dining hall. It’s where they find Annette helping the cooks with tonight’s meal, kneading bread while wearing a flour-dusted apron.
“Hi, Lysithea! I’m baking your favorite dessert tonight: Sweet buns!”
“Uh, whose favorite?” Lysithea asks in a panic, rapidly scanning the room. “Oh, forget it. Do you have a moment?”
They take her into the corner where Claude reluctantly spills the beans. “I meant to cast an illusion spell on Teach, but I accidentally turned her into a cat. She’s been polymorphed for a whole day.”
Annette’s full blue eyes dart between them, growing wary at Claude. “Um, is this one of your practical jokes?”
He swears it isn’t, but she still doesn’t budge. A disgruntled Lysithea has to pull her toward the dormitory to change her mind. Once she’s in Claude’s room and sees the aforementioned cat, she lets out a shrill gasp.
“Aww, she’s precious!” She scratches Byleth beneath her chin and tugs on her medallion. “Hi, Professor! Are they taking good care of you?”
Lysithea clears her throat and hands her the tome. “Can you focus, please?”
“Right, sorry.” Annette skims the pages, mouthing the words to herself. “Oh, boy. These incantations are in ancient Fódlan. You might have mispronounced a word and cast a different spell. Where’d you get your hands on something like this?”
“Yes, do enlighten us, Claude,” Lorenz baits, arching a brow.
Not a chance in hell. “The source isn’t all that important. Breaking the spell is.”
“Um, sometimes you can use alchemy to reverse spells, right?” Marianne asks, barely raising her eyes. “Maybe some herbs or flowers will do the trick.”
“Good point. I’ve got plenty of stuff to mix.” Claude starts to reach for the beakers in his chemist’s corner, but Byleth hisses at him, baring her teeth and claws. Guess that’s a hard pass.
“If we snoop around the greenhouse at this hour, that’ll just attract attention,” Leonie sighs.
Lorenz peers over Annette and Lysithea’s shoulders, failing hard at being inconspicuous. “As a student of the School of Sorcery, I am just as qualified to–”
“Shut up, Lorenz,” they snap in unison. Annette scatters away from him with the tome, then paces over to Claude. “Maybe something interfered with the spell. Did anything strange happen, like an explosion?”
“No. I mean, it bounced off a couple of pillars and a cat before it hit Teach.”
“That’s it! You cast an illusion spell meant to target humans. It hit an inanimate object, so it most likely gained energy when it was sensing for a sentient being to land on.”
“Wait, spells can follow us around?” Raphael worriedly asks.
“Dark magic can,” Lysithea explains. “A skilled mage would have been able to control the spell’s direction.” Then she narrows her perceptive eyes at Claude, sending a chill down his spine. “But how did it gain that much energy in the first place? Your spellcasting abilities are nowhere close to mine.”
“Looks like you should make room for the competition then.” He stumbles back against his desk as she raises her fist like the tiny firecracker she is. “Sheesh, relax! Maybe it boils down to simple physics. If something rebounds off a surface, it gains momentum when it travels in a new direction.”
Annette starts bouncing on her toes. “Uh-huh, exactly! If the spell’s magical energy increased when it activated, then in theory, you have to reduce the energy to deactivate it.”
Lysithea meets her eager eyes. “And the best way to transfer magical energy is–”
“Through a rune!” they exclaim.
Everyone else sits still in dead silence. Whatever language they’re speaking must be exclusive to mages. “Um, in simpler terms, ladies?” Claude asks.
Ignoring him, Lysithea strides over to Ignatz with her palm upturned. “Please tell me you have one of those rocks on you.”
He digs through his satchel and pulls out a reddish orange stone, similar to the others he grinds down to make pigments for his paints. Annette and Lysithea get to bossing everyone around, telling them to move the rug and anything else out of the center of the room. They watch in awe as Lysithea uses the rock to draw a pentagram on the wooden planks. She encloses it in a circle and on the inner layer, etches what looks like ancient symbols, which certainly wouldn’t be accepted by the Church of Seiros. The side of Claude that loves defying rules thrums with delight. But his practical side is hoping they won’t end up in more chaos, like opening a portal to another dimension.
“Professor, can you stand in the middle?” Annette asks. “We’ll have to repeat the spell.”
Byleth listens. Guilt gnaws away at Claude again—it doesn’t seem fair to let them do all the work. “I’ll say the spell again,” he insists.
Annette and Lysithea stare at him in stunned silence.
“Look, every single one of you has done enough. More than I deserve, honestly. Just tell me what to say and we’ll hope for the best.” If not, well… chasing these dreams in a new land was fun while it lasted.
As he stands in front of the rune, Hilda hops off the bed and gestures for everyone else to follow her. “Let’s keep a lookout in the hall. I don’t want to be anywhere near this thing.”
Annette shows Claude the incantation in the tome again, saying he needs to stress the third syllable of the first sentence and say the second sentence faster and firmer. He can’t afford to hesitate—mages operate on conviction, after all. Lysithea positions his hands at the right angle directly at Byleth. Looking into her eyes, feline or not, is a surefire way for faith to weave itself around him.
I can’t lose you. Not when I’ve just found you.
The spell leaves his lips with firmness. The rune takes on a magenta glow, reflecting its light on the ceiling. A pulsating black orb shoots from Claude’s fingertips and it hits Byleth, shrouding her in a cloud of dust. Then the real Byleth appears on her feet, eyes closed and stumbling back. Claude catches her in time, holding her in one arm like in a smooth dip in a dance. When she opens her luminous eyes, she’s all right—still his Teach.
“Welcome back,” he whispers.
Lysithea and Annette let out the most relieved of sighs. Everyone shuffles back inside, and Lorenz doesn’t hesitate to kill the moment by hoisting Byleth out of Claude’s hold, swooping in like a pompous vulture.
“How do you feel, Professor? I am here for anything you need.”
“I’m all right.” Her gentle smile blossoms as she glances at an embarrassed Claude. “This is the kind of teamwork I like to see.”
Lysithea scoffs. “It’s not like we had much of a choice.”
“Yeah, stick to shooting arrows, Claude,” Hilda whines.
He looks down and twists his boot in shame, knowing he’ll never live this down. But at least it brought them closer together. He hopes this won’t be the last time they’ll be in his corner. “Thanks for everything. I’ll find a way to make this up to all of you.”
“Go have dinner and rest,” Byleth says, shooing them out of the room. “We have a long trip tomorrow.”
A moment later, it’s just her and Claude standing on the rune. He feels like he could soar toward the stars, dazed and wild with hope—just how he’d feel in her presence any other time. The quiver in his chest tells him this feeling will last longer than every spell in existence.
“So… are all your cat memories gone?”
“Oh, I remember everything.”
He lets out a short chuckle. “So what’s my punishment?”
“Stable duty for the next moon sounds appropriate.” She picks up the tome on his bed, just as a glimmer of mischief appears in her eyes. “Or I can confiscate this for good. Your choice.”
“Ah, fine. It’s safer in your hands anyway.”
They leave the room sharing a knowing smile, caught under each other's spells—no hypnosis needed.