A queening—Neville had never witnessed one, and it was alarming. Shadow thought so, too; he'd stormed about yowling so loudly that Queenie had attacked him, sending him flying into the fire ficuses.
It hadn't surprised Neville at all to find the cats tucked up in Greenhouse Three for the birth. It was warm and clean, and Shadow had always seemed to feel safe there.
"It's all right, young man," Sprout cooed at Shadow. "She knows what to do, and Hagrid's not far away should something go wrong."
Shadow laid his ears back and wailed.
Neville thought he might be sick.