The Strange Cat

Harry Potter and his best mate, Ron Weasley all but ran into the Transfiguration Class room as they were running a little late. One of the staircases had moved as they were descending and they had to find their way around, losing a lot of time.

Ron breathed a sigh of relief, "We're in luck, McGonagall isn't even here yet," he chirped cheerfully.

He had taken two steps into the room before he noticed Harry was no longer by his side. Turning around in confusion he saw Harry standing right inside the door, staring at McGonagall's desk.

The thing that really surprise the gangly red head was that Harry's eyes were popped wide and he had gone extremely pale and appeared to be in shock.

Ron turned to see what Harry was staring at and saw a tabby cat sitting on the desk that he hadn't noticed before.

Then before he could move, the cat stood up, arched its back in a huge stretch before it leaped from the desk.

Ron gasped as the cat transformed in mid air and by the time its feet had hit the floor, Professor McGonagall was standing there, giving a disproving look at the two late-comers.

She was just about to reprimand them when she noticed Harry still standing just inside the door, staring at her in shock.

"Mr Potter?" she called out softly in concern. Harry was now not only white as a sheet but he was trembling slightly.

"Mr Potter, are you all right?" she asked as she approached the young boy.

It wasn't until she was right in front of him that he reacted. His shocked face changed to one of rage and he glared at his Head-of-House.

"It was you!" he yelled in outrage. "I can't believe it was you!" he yelled. Then he spun where he stood and fled out the door at a dead run.

The whole class held their collective breath, waiting for their stern Professor to chase after the wayward Gryffindor and bring him back by his ear or at least show her displeasure at his actions.

Instead they were shocked when she suddenly looked quite sad as she turned to Ron. "Please be seated, Mr Weasley so that we may begin class," she uttered softly, her voice laden with melancholy.

Harry ran blindly, his eyes cloudy by his tears of anger. He couldn't believe what he had just seen and figured out. He didn't think he'd ever been so angry in his whole life.

Because classes were now in session, no one saw Harry's flight or where he ended up.

Harry finally slowed to a halt and glanced around, surprised to find himself out by the Quidditch Pitch. Feeling exposed, he made his way under the stands and found a reasonably comfortable spot to sit down.

"I can't believe it was her," he muttered to himself, his anger rising once again. Shaking his head he let his mind wander back to his childhood.

The first time he remember noticing the strange cat that seemed to hang around was when he was a little more than five years old.

He called it the strange cat not only for how it acted, but for the strange markings around its eyes. It had square markings that almost looked like it was wearing glasses and it seemed to pay attention to him because he often saw it staring at him.

At first it kept its distance, observing him from afar. He often saw it sitting on the stone wall between the Dursley's yard and the neighbour's or sunning itself on the pavement.

Then he noticed it even when he wandered off his relative's property, down at the play park, when he had to go to the small grocer's way over on Mayflower Street and even on occasion when he was walking to or from school, though that was a rarity.

By the time he was seven, he figured out he saw it almost daily during the summer but not near as often during the school year. He used to kid himself that it probably had to go to cat school.

As he remember it, it was sometime around his seventh birthday when he noticed it watching him from a much closer distance, especially when he worked in the back garden.

One day he spotted it laying under a nearby bush as he weeded his aunt's flowerbeds behind the house. He wished he could just lay in the shade instead of slaving in the hot Sun without any water for hours on end.

He had tried to befriend the animal but it never let him get very close, always drifting away if he approached it, keeping the distance fairly constant as long as there was suitable shade for it to lay in.

Then there was that fateful day when things had changed. It was right after lunch, a lunch where one of those strange things that happened around him on occasion took place.

Even though it was really all his whale of a cousin's fault, he'd been the one punished severely. Dudley, the aforementioned small whale, had knocked Harry's plate from his hands as he was carrying it to the sink.

Not something all the unusual, Dudley tried that trick at least once a month or so. The problem on this particular day was because of what happened that morning, (another minor incident that we won't delve into at the moment), Harry had been warned by his Uncle Vernon, (a much larger version of whale than even Dudley), that "There will be no more of this funny business!" screamed at an ear splitting volume while turning a fascinating shade of purple.

That brings us back to the incident at lunch with the plate. As Harry watched in horror as the plate flipped end over end, headed toward its ultimate demise by colliding with the hard unforgiving surface of the kitchen floor, he wished with all his might that somehow the plate would survive the coming impact.

Well, somehow his wish was granted when unexpectedly the plate stopped falling to the floor and it somehow reversed directions, returning to his reaching hand.

Now originally, Harry wasn't going to be breaking the stricture laid down by his Uncle, but he didn't think of that at the time. No, he just knew if anything happened, like breaking the plate, (even though it had really been his cousin's fault), he'd be in trouble.

The really unfortunate thing was this took place in the sight of his Uncle. He had turned several colours that Harry had never observed before and before he could move out of reach, his Uncle had caught him with a really hard slap that landed squarely on his left cheek, bruising it deeply and splitting his lip. Uncle Vernon had exceedingly large beefy hands.

A side-effect of this blow was that the plate's reprieve was short lived as it flew from Harry's hand as he flew across the kitchen and shattered against the back door.

Harry was taken by surprise when as his Uncle had grabbed him by his collar to drag him to his cupboard under the stairs, his Aunt Petunia had screeched that he needed to finish weeding the rear garden.

His Uncle had glared at him with a maniacal gleam in his eyes and unceremoniously thrown Harry out the back door, where he landed in an inelegant heap as he skidded across the concrete patio, adding quite a few bumps, bruises, scrapes and cuts to his already damaged body.

Knowing there was nothing else to do if he wanted to escape further punishment, Harry had crawled over to the flowerbed and begun to weed.

He was having a difficult time of it, not only because of how much he hurt, but because his eyes were clouded with the tears he refused to let fall.

He was taken by surprise when he felt something soft and warm bump into his hand as he reached for a particularly stubborn weed and looking down he saw the strange cat rubbing up against him, mewing softly.

Harry sat down and slowly reached out and scratched the cat behind its ears. He was further surprised when it climbed up into his lap, placed its paws on his chest and stood up inspecting his bruised face and split lip.

For a moment he was worried that it was going to lick at the blood seeping from his lip, but the cat just sniffed him heavily before it gave a low growl of disapproval.

Gently he began to stroke the cat's back and he gave a wan smile as it arched its back every time his hand ran down it.

"My relatives don't like me very much," Harry sighed.

He was surprised when he noticed the cat give him an unhappy look.

"This isn't the first time something like this has happened, but I guess you'd know all about it as you've seen me even worse than this before," he said sadly.

He gave a small smile when the cat gave him a soft growl and for some reason he thought it was agreeing with him.

"But that's not the half of it," he sighed. "I never get enough to eat and I can't tell you how many meals I've missed. One of their other favourite punishments is to send me to my cupboard without letting me eat. There have been days where I haven't gotten anything to eat at all," he continued as he kept scratching the cat.

The cat hissed and for a moment he thought he'd done something wrong and started to remove his hand, but then the cat nudged his hand with its head, urging him to continue scratching it.

He noticed it give him a strange look when he had mentioned his cupboard and without even thinking about how strange it was for a cat to react like that, he continued explaining.

"Yeah, I know, I'm ashamed to admit it but they make me stay in the cupboard under the stairs. They lock me in every night and let me out in the morning to cook breakfast. In fact they make me cook all the meals, even if they aren't going to feed me," Harry whinged sadly.

He chuckled ruefully when the cat hissed its displeasure. "Yeah, I know. I guess I could understand it if there wasn't any other place to put me but my cousin Dudley has two rooms. One has nothing but all his broken toys in it and he hardly ever goes in there except to add some other thing he's broken," he sighed with a sad frown.

The cat meowed and butted his hand with her head and rubbed it gently.

"Did you know I didn't even know when my birthday was until I started school?" he asked as he sighed heavily. "I've never gotten a present, not for my birthday or Christmas or anything," he muttered sadly.

"Of course they shower my whale of a cousin with presents, constantly. They even got him a present when he got his first exam back. He got a D but he got a present. I got a B and received a beating and spent the whole weekend locked in my cupboard and then they told me if I ever cheated again they'd really punish me good," Harry sighed, looking very forlorn. He eyed the cat, sniffling softly. "I didn't cheat and I told them that. They just got angrier and said that the only way I could have gotten a better grade that their precious Didikins, was to have done something unnatural. I don't even know what they really mean by that," he said sadly.

"Yeah, I know that sometimes strange things seem to happen around me but what does that have to do with me getting a better grade on an exam?" he asked with a shrug.

Harry gave the cat a soft, sad smile. "Thanks for listening to me. I've never had someone that I could talk to before. I learned very quickly not to ask questions or say anything because the only answer I ever received was a slap or being hit by my Uncle's belt."

He gave the cat one last scratch behind the ears and sighed once again. "I'd better get back to work if I want to escape another beating tonight and want the chance of having something for dinner."

He noticed the cat watching him closely the rest of the day and it cheered him some just knowing that something at least seemed to know and understand, as little as he believed it could.

The other thing he noticed during the next week or so was that the cat now sought him out, at least whenever none of his relatives were around.

He took great comfort in talking to the cat while he worked, telling it all about what was happening to him. Every time his cousin and his friends went "Harry Hunting" and every time his Aunt or Uncle did or said something, from calling him names, locking him in his cupboard, withheld meals, every infraction from what he knew to be the way a "normal" child should be treated.

The other thing was, he always addressed the cat directly. He'd tried to think of a name for the cat but gave up after all the one's he thought of just didn't seem to fit.

He found it didn't matter as he knew there was no way he'd ever tell anyone about his "friend". He knew it would be a bad thing if he ever mentioned it to any of his relatives. Dudley or his Uncle would have tried to hurt or kill it if they ever found out and while his Aunt wouldn't have done so, he was sure she'd mention it to his Uncle and he knew where that would lead.

Plus he didn't have any other friends, Dudley made sure of that by threatening anyone who even made the most innocuous gestures of friendship and his Aunt and Uncle by telling all the neighbours he was a miscreant and a trouble maker. Ever since they had started that all the parents made sure to keep their children far away from him.

Even after school started back up again, he noticed the cat around more in the evenings, always nearby, willing to listen, always checking out his newest bruises, cuts and scrapes.

Whenever it did, it would come up and rub up against him, offing what comfort and support it could.

To Harry, who had been neglected and abused for as long as he could remember, it was a Godsend. That someone, well, something, would treat him so tenderly was mind boggling.

He used that thought often to sustain him as he lay in his cupboard, nursing some new injury or injustice, secretly pleased that at least somewhere, something knew and cared.

So as Harry sat huddled under the Quidditch stands, it seemed his world had been blown apart. To him it seemed like it had all been a lie. His friend, the strange cat, had turned out like all the others who should have helped and protected him but ended up not doing so in the end.

Sure it had sympathized but to learn it was someone who should have actually done something, it about destroyed him and for the first time since he was three years old and learned crying only brought more heartache and pain, he broke down and cried.

It wasn't until well after dinner and night began to fall that Harry slowly snuck back into the castle.

At first he hadn't been sure he wanted to go back but he knew he had nowhere else to go and he just hoped he didn't run into anyone. He was sure he was in trouble and he couldn't imagine how many points he was going to lose but he had just shrugged and headed back inside anyway.

He considered himself rather lucky as he didn't run into many people and those that he did seemed to ignore him for the most part, just a few glancing his way as they passed nearby.

He was almost back to the common room when he heard someone behind him.

"May I have a word with you, Harry?"

Harry spun around and saw Minerva McGonagall standing there, looking quite sad.

He sighed with a frown as he stared at her for several moments and he was taken by surprise when she just waited for him to answer.

Finally he nodded, though he still didn't look happy.

Please follow me," the Professor said quietly.

She turned and headed off down the stairs, to her office that was located off the first floor corridor. After opening the door she ushered him inside, closing the door after her.

She led him to a small sitting area by the huge fireplace that dominated the one wall where they sat down. There hadn't been seat for more that a few seconds when a house elf popped in, setting a tray with a teapot, two cups and saucers, a plate of biscuits, a sugar bowl and creamer set and a small bowl with lemon slices.

Minerva served and offered Harry the plate of biscuits, glancing at him occasionally, trying to get a good read on him.

She sighed when she could tell he was upset, though she was glad that it wasn't as bad as before.

Harry watched McGonagall carefully, knowing well he was under her scrutiny as much as she was trying to hide it. Growing up the way he did, he had to be extremely aware of everyone around him.

After Harry had taken a bite of one of his biscuits and they both had taken sips of their tea, Minerva looked at Harry sadly.

"I owe you an explanation," she stated softly, her voice laden with sadness.

Harry just stared back at her impassively, giving nothing away.

"I should have known you'd figure it out," she said ruefully.

She sighed and shook her head sadly. "I knew it was a bad idea to get so close to you but I just couldn't help myself. I knew what kind of people your relatives were and I told Albus you shouldn't be left in their care but he insisted," she continued, not really looking at Harry.

Harry could tell she was thinking about the past. He gave her a questioning look when she said the name Albus, wondering who he was.

Minerva saw his questioning look. "Albus is Professor Dumbledore," she explained.

Harry frowned, wondering what right did the Headmaster have in placing him with his relatives.

"What is it?" she asked, seeing his frown.

"What right did he have in placing me with my relatives. People you know hate and despise me. You've seen how they treat me. Didn't my parents have a will? They would never have wanted me sent to my Aunt, I've heard her tell my Uncle about how she never got along with my Mum once she started school here. So just why?" Harry fumed, his voice raising as he spoke.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know the answer to those questions," Minerva sighed sadly. "Back then things were quite chaotic and many things were done in haste. I know that your parents had a will but I don't know what became of it or if it was ever read after their deaths."

Harry stared at her unhappily. Minerva could see the conflicting emotions of anger and sadness warring on his face.

"Why didn't you ever help me?" he finally asked, softly but intensely.

Minerva briefly closed her eyes, trying to control her emotions, having dreaded the chance that Harry would ask that very question. The problem was she didn't have a good answer for him. Going over them in her mind, even she found them inadequate.

When she opened her eyes, she looked at him with a look of shame on her face.

"I'm ashamed to admit that I don't have a good answer for that," she muttered sadly. "In part because I was told that you were okay and needed to be there but after I saw how you were treated, I know I should have done something but for some reason I continued to delay doing so. I . . . I listened to someone else, when I had reason to doubt what they were saying. In reality I really have no defence for my actions. I hope you'll forgive me," she entreated softly.

Harry stared at her for several moments, digesting what she had said.

"How can I ever trust you?" he asked sadly, though it was touched with anger.

"All I can do is promise to do better in the future," Minerva replied hopefully.

"Does that mean you'll help me so I don't ever have to go back there?" Harry asked fervently.

Minerva felt like she'd been stabbed in the heart. "I . . . can't promise anything at this time," she replied painfully.

Harry gave her a look of supreme disappointment.

"May I go now?" he asked dejectedly.

Barely keeping herself together, Minerva nodded, knowing she'd let him down once again.

As Harry rose and headed for the door, she called out, "I'll try and see what I can do."

Harry paused for a second but made no other response and slowly continued his way back to the Gryffindor common room, realizing that he really was alone in the world and if something were to be done, it was up to him to do it. The only good thing he could think of was that he had nine months to figure it out.

Minerva watched Harry leave, knowing she'd let him down once again. Her mind warring with her conscience about doing what was right as opposed to what was easy. The problem was she didn't know what the answer was on how to help the young boy who desperately needed it.

She realized she had a lot of thinking to do before school let out in June.

Harry and Ginny

A/N: Not a particularly happy chapter, but something I could see really happening. I had briefly considered it for a Bits and Bobs chapter but since it isn't a Harry and Ginny story I decided to post it separately.

As always your reviews are greatly appreciated.