A Purrrfect Muggle Birthday
Professor McGonagal's Pov:
My paws contently patter down the quiet street. The present heat wave has sent the muggle's running for their houses and the comfort of their cool air machines. This left the streets quite empty.
…
Empty just like Hogwarts was with the students on summer holidays. I was silently grateful that the boy's birthday rested in the holidays or I would never had had the chance to check on him in peace. I still didn't want it known that I was visiting the Potter boy. It seemed like the sort of thing that the common besotted Wizard or Witch would do. As stealthy as I had been though, sneaking out of the castle grounds to apparate, I had heard a "Don't stay out to late now Minerva" and looked back to find Albus sitting and smiling with a twinkle in his eyes in the, what was, empty courtyard when I had passed through it not two seconds ago. I was convinced in that moment that there was, at least, one person who understood my desire to see the boy. I did after all, spy on the boy's relations for a full day and then accompany Dumbledore in farewelling the boy on their doorstep that fateful night. I knew better than anyone else in what ghastly environment we had left the saviour of our world in.
…
Quite empty, yes. There was however a faint buzzing that was, as I continued forward, growing louder. I suddenly realised that in my attentiveness for muggle dangers I had been long ignoring the annoying pain in my paws and with a hiss I launched myself off the searingly hot footpath and onto the cool grass. Berating myself that normal cats didn't walk on footpaths, I continued on my way rounding the next corner and headed cautiously into Privet Drive.
Not much if anything had changed in the appearance of the house numbered with a 4. Just as I had observed, nearly ten years ago, it was immaculate in its grooming and seemed to ooze ordinariness. Once again I noticed the strange buzzing noise and I now realised it to be emanating, interestingly, from number 4. Curious, I creeped forward up the drive and bounded onto the rubbish bin lid and then up onto the lower dividing roof compartment. The buzzing was very loud now and I stalked up the gradient of the roof and lept onto the dividing wall between the numbered house's 2 and 4. Gingerly I maneuvered myself around on the slim wall to face the backyard of number 4, where the force of the sound was almost painful in my sensitive ears. There I beheld the back of a small boy, slumped on the handles of a grass clipping machine that he was pushing. Amusement flitted through me as I noted that of all days available to shave the grass the Dursley's had choosen today, in this heat, to force their son to amend the yard. Surprised that the Dursley's had sent their son out to do work let alone in these conditions caught me off guard. For a moment I entertained a flicker of hope that my evaluation of the family, some decade ago, was false and that Albus had not subjected the Potter boy to the foulest and most self-obsessed muggle family imaginable. That moment ended when the boy reached the end of the garden, and pushed the clipping device around, and faced me – JAMES!
With a cry of shock I overbalanced and fell forwards, landing in a bush, continuing on onto the grass of the yard.
"So much for cats always landing on their feet", I thought bitterly.
The buzzing suddenly stopped and I could feel the vibrations of feet bearing down on me. Suddenly there were hands around me and before I could even let out a threatening hiss I had been scooped into the hands of the Potter boy, who was dashing away with me from where I fell. Frozen in shock from being touched for the first time in my animagus form, I lay still in his arms until he lightly placed me on the ground next to him. At once I leaped from the ground to a distance from the boy and surveyed my surroundings. I was indeed in the yard and now that the buzzing had stopped I could hear the blaring of a picture and sound box originating from the house. Then I snapped my head towards the boy who was whipping his brow in the shade of the house underneath a window sill. Just then a woman ripped back the curtains of the said window and through slitted eyes racked the yard suspiciously with her eyes, with her search finally coming to rest on me. She froze and I suddenly felt a burning deep within and rose to my feet with bared teeth and my hackles raised. Never loosing eye contact with me she slowly drew the curtains across. My posture melted immediately as I returned my focus to the boy, who was now, pressed up close against the wall underneath the window smiling between me and the window.
"Thanks", he smiled.
"I was worried you were hurt after you fell, but obviously you're fine", he continued, still smiling appreciatively at me.
"I'm Harry, Harry Potter - not Dursley!", he said brightly.
"Oh I, and the rest of the magical world, know your name Potter", I thought, smiling at his innocence.
His smile faltered and he continued to wipe his brow and then let out a strained sigh as he slumped against the wall to a sitting position and relaxed his arms and legs so that they spread out over the grass. It's then that I noticed the bruising covering his left arm and scratches on the left side of his face – James's face. Moved with pity I bounded forward and crouched next to his out-stretched left arm, my face still watching his. He had Lily's eyes. Last time I had seen him they had been closed but they were open now and beaming down at me too, still accompanied with that scar. My head hung limp from my shoulders at the memory of their loss. Never had I seen two more gifted children then Lily and James. Although one delighted in finding himself in trouble and the other seemed set on upsetting herself with complicated friendships, I was always immensely proud to have both of them in my house. A moan escaped me but I suddenly tensed and leapt back to stare at the boy. He still had his hand raised lightly in the air and a hurt expression on his face.
"Sorry pus – you just looked so sad", he gently explained.
Me sad! Yes but…here was the son of the Potter's feeling like he should comfort me, a cat, when he is orphaned, bruised, scratched and being put to work like a house elf on his BIRTHDAY! Either this boy has been devoid of someone/something to talk too for a long time or he has inherited his mother's unselfish caring nature – or maybe both. Resigning the fact that I would never regain respect from this boy if he ever connected me now with my animagus, I show third years, – I pace forwards and leap up onto his chest and curl into a ball. I feel his chest relax after a second and then I tense but lay still as he tentatively begins to stroke my neck and back. I begin to hum contently at the thought of ripping out his aunt's flowers in the immaculate front lawn, making sure to leave paw prints at the scene.
"You just made this my best birthday ever pus, thanks" said the boy, while scratching quickly the back of my ear.