Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Or a cat, sadly.


I was Thinking About the Cat

They had a cat.

I wonder what happened to him.

I wonder if he saw the destruction or if he died with the house, like a part of it that couldn't continue.

I wonder if he found a new home and decided that it was enough, decided that he could live with new owners.

I wonder if he ever thought of his previous owners.

I wonder if he stayed there, watching the house for days, until he starved, until he could no longer stand to watch the wreckage, until the wreckage disappeared when he got too far away from. (I wonder if he stayed close, just so he could see the remnants of a home that's no longer there.)

I wonder if he even ever thought of them again.

I wonder if he asked himself where they went. I wonder if he traced Harry's scent all over Britain and found himself in Little Whinging, scratching on the door of 4, Private Drive and getting kicked by someone who smelled so much like Lily but so different from her.

I wonder if he starved until finding itself in a magical shop.

I wonder if no one picked him up, until one day, a brown-haired girl with an uncommon sense of kindness picked him up and gave it a new name.


A/N: Written because, well, I was thinking about the cat.