A/N: Hey y'all! So, this was written for the QLFC Round 4.
Chaser 2: Write from a pet's perspective about their everyday life.
(Word) preposterous
(Creature) Niffler
(Action) running
Word Count: 2886
Many thanks to my sister and Amber for beta-ing!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.
Enjoy!
Mornings were always quiet. Before dawn broke, when the sky was still a deep indigo and the last of the stars were out, the Weasley house was as silent as a snowfall. During these hours, the Weasleys' pet rat Scabbers should have been enjoying a peaceful slumber. Unfortunately, seeing as Scabbers wasn't your typical pet rat, he didn't have typical rat dreams.
An old friend's pale face, twisted with grief and anger. His eyes wild as he screamed, the words lost in the blast emitting from the tip of the real traitor's wand. Green light blinding everyone on the streets, the world growing larger as he shrank, the familiar feeling of his body growing fur, of his teeth increasing in size, of the tail for which he was named crawling into existence…
Next came the terrible screams of the dead. They never made a sound, but he could hear them nonetheless. Overcome with terror, he scrambled across the hot asphalt, his paw stinging from where, right before the explosion, his knife had severed the toe.
His whiskers twitched as the sour smell of destruction and death reached his nose. Neither of these could overpower the stench of his guilt as the sound of his old friend's laughter pounded against his ears. It was broken, defeated, the two words that he'd never have associated with the man. But still he ran, terrified to go on, but more terrified of facing what he'd done. He wouldn't have done differently. He only wished so many people hadn't died in the crossfire.
The rat— Scabbers— woke up with a squeak. His beady eyes darting around in fear, it took him several moments to recognize that he was curled up on Percy Weasley's duvet, not cornered on the street. Once he did, his tiny rat muscles relaxed, and he shuffled over to his young master, who had found him in the garden many months ago.
Scabbers had a particular fondness for this human. He was the most mellow of the Weasley children, and while his hands were often sticky with half-dried ink, he protected Scabbers from his troublesome twin brothers.
Scabbers cuddled up against the boy, Percy's, face. The freckled cheeks pinched upwards as the boy smiled. Scabbers affectionately nudged Percy's nose with his head, then watched the sky grow lighter as the boy slept on. He never could fall back asleep after a nightmare. Still, he liked to be near Percy after he woke up from one; he felt that his presence prevented the boy from having similar disturbances.
It was perhaps two hours later that the Weasley house woke up.
It began with the three-year-old twins. As soon as Scabbers heard their bare feet slapping against the wooden stairs, he squeaked a warning to five-year-old Percy and scrambled to hide under the pillow. The twins had a tendency to grab him by the tail and hide him in places for their mother to find. Unfortunately for him, these places usually included under the floorboards and, once, inside the pickle jar.
The twins entered the room quietly, tiptoeing across the wooden floor as they approached Percy's bed. Percy was snoring softly, the red hair that he shared with the rest of his family ruffled from rubbing against his pillow. His mouth was partially open, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was his soft breathing as the twins stood still.
It was too good to last.
Devilish smirks on their faces, the twins leaned towards Percy until they were barely three inches away from his face.
"PERCY!" they shouted as one. "Wake up!"
Percy shot into a sitting position, his limbs flailing as he struggled to fully wake up. Scabbers felt bad for him, having had experience being rudely awoken. He wondered what the twins, Fred and George, would be like in a few years, if they were already this much of a handful at three.
Percy rubbed furiously at his eyes, glaring as much as he could when he was still half in dreamland.
"Fred! George! Mummy said you can't do that anymore! I'm telling!"
Fred and George scampered off, giggling, to go wake the rest of the house in the same manner.
Once they were out of the room, Scabbers deemed it safe to come out from underneath the pillow. He was greeted warmly when Percy saw him.
"Scabbers! Did you have a good sleep? Mummy's gonna make breakfast soon. I'll give you some of mine."
Percy gently stroked his back, and Scabbers chittered his contentment. Percy then scooped him up and carried him downstairs. They passed Percy's older brothers on the way down: Bill, the oldest, and Charlie. Both were grumbling to themselves about being woken up once again, and Charlie was clutching a stuffed dragon to his chest. A Common Welsh Green, Scabbers recalled. Bill, at nine, was nearing Hogwarts age, and there was a crease in his face that Scabbers suspected was from falling asleep against one of his dad's old textbooks.
Feet pounding, Percy brought Scabbers down to the kitchen and climbed into one of the chairs after placing him on the table. Percy sat patiently as the rest of the Weasley family filed into the room. Bill sat on Percy's right, and the Weasley patriarch, Arthur, sat on his other side, one-year-old Ron on his hip. The twins sat on the opposite side of the table, and the family's matriarch, the formidable Molly Weasley, sat in between them, baby Ginny cradled in her arms. Scabbers felt bad for the baby— growing up the only girl in a house of boys wouldn't be easy, but if Ginny proves to be anything like her mother, Scabbers knew she could handle it.
Molly waved her wand, and the kettle filled itself with hot water. Once it began boiling, Molly engaged her husband in a conversation about his work, and as soon as she knew his schedule for the week, she handed Bill the baby and began pottering about the kitchen, preparing dippy eggs and soldiers.
True to his word, Percy turned to his father and tattled on his brothers.
Arthur glanced at his son, amused. "I know, Percy. But they're still learning, remember?"
Percy pouted, annoyed with his father's inability to put an end to the problem. To avoid the oncoming tantrum, Bill quickly said, "Why don't you tell us your word of the day, Perce?"
Percy's word of the day had become a tradition in the Weasley family. It had started when one of Arthur's coworkers had sent Percy a dictionary as a gag gift after hearing how curious he was. No one had expected him to be so excited about it. Every night, Percy would open up to a random page in his dictionary and choose a word. That would be the next day's word of the day, and Percy would teach it to the rest of the family.
"Preposterous," he enunciated carefully. "It means lacking common sense or reason." He leaned across the table to address his little brothers. "That means really silly."
Bill hid a smile as he took a sip of tea, and Arthur chuckled as he ruffled his son's hair.
"That's right, dear," Molly said fondly over her shoulder as she fried some bacon. "You're a very smart boy."
Percy preened from the praise, and if rats could smile, Scabbers would have. Nothing made him happier than seeing his master so gleeful.
After the family (including Scabbers) finished their breakfast, Percy quickly threw on some clothes and brought Scabbers into the garden. "Don't run away," Percy ordered. "I'll be back soon."
Percy hurried off to play with his brothers, and Scabbers started to roam the garden like he usually did while the boys were playing. Normally he'd stumble upon some gnomes he had to chase out of the garden, an activity the boys were more than happy to participate in.
Today seemed to be a quiet day. Scabbers waddled through the grass, dirt collecting between his toes and tangling in his fur. He enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his back and the temporary reprieve of chatter. He walked aimlessly for several minutes before a scuffling sound reached his ears.
Scabbers hesitated. A lazy part of him was loathe to investigate, but a bigger part of him leftover from another life knew he had to.
Following his ears, Scabbers scurried through the grass, quickly making his way towards the source of the noise. After a few minutes, Scabbers paused and stood up on his hind legs, his head whipping about. He didn't see anything, but his suspicion remained. He sniffed the air around him, and chittered unhappily when he caught a whiff of a foreign scent.
After a few more minutes of searching, Scabbers found the intruder. Black, long-snouted, and clutching a stolen galleon in its clawed hands— a Niffler.
Scabbers considered his options. The Niffler was about twice his size, and would be difficult to take on. On the other hand, judging from how full it's pouch was, the Niffler has already stolen quite a bit from this family. Scabbers was sure he saw a pair of Molly's earrings and Arthur's watch. This sparked rage inside of him— this family had taken him in when he had stumbled into their garden, half-starved and lost. They didn't have much, but they made do, and there was plenty of love to go around, even for him. Deep inside him, he knew he was comparing this family with one of his old friend's. But it didn't matter. Scabbers refused to stand by and let the Weasleys be robbed. He owed them this, at least.
His decision made, Scabbers bared his teeth and got down on his haunches, preparing to spring forward. Once the Niffler had turned away, Scabbers leapt from his hiding place amidst the too-long grass, hissing angrily.
The Niffler jumped in surprise, and was immediately on the defensive. He stuffed the gold into his belly pouch, and growled softly at Scabbers. It's black eyes flickered to the right, and the rat followed its gaze. His eyes narrowed. One of the windows in the side of the house was open, and though it was too high for the Niffler to reach from the ground, it could easily climb up the same trellis the tomato vines were. This must be how the Niffler has gotten in before.
Well, it wouldn't be doing that again. Scabbers was determined to drive the thief out of the garden and retrieve the stolen property. He hissed again, and the Niffler backed up. Good, Scabbers thought. The Niffler was all bark but no bite.
Scabbers advanced menacingly. The Niffler backed up, shaking its head worriedly. He jumped up and down and chattered loudly, hoping to scare away his opponent. To his pleasure, the Niffler turned around and ran— towards the trellis.
Scabbers tittered, annoyed, and chased after the furry thief. He managed to successfully drive the Niffler away from the trellis, but it seemed determined to double back around and climb up. Scabbers raced after it, snapping at its heels, trying his hardest to recover what the Niffler had stolen.
The Niffler sped up, and Scabbers was having trouble keeping pace, but he continued on relentlessly. His legs ached, and his fur was dark with sweat, but he never lost sight of the creature in front of him. It took him several moments to realize that he had chased the Niffler to the other side of the house. Bill, Charlie, and Percy, who had been playing, had spotted Scabbers racing after the Niffler and had joined in the chase.
"Get it!" Bill shouted, nearly toppling as he made a particularly sharp turn.
"It's a Niffler!" Charlie cried excitedly.
"It's getting away!" Percy screamed.
The three boys and Scabbers ran after the Niffler for another half hour, and Scabbers was nearly trampled on several occasions. It was just like de-gnoming the garden, he reflected. Except instead of the four of them hunting for a bunch of gnomes, they were after a single, very fast, magical creature.
Finally, Charlie dove on top of the Niffler (or he might have tripped. It was hard to tell this close to the ground. Whatever the case, the Niffler had been successfully pinned underneath him). With a shout of triumph, Charlie held the Niffler up by its back leg, and proceeded to shake out the contents of its pouch.
Scabbers hunted around the mound of jewelry for a minute before pulling out all the treasures that belonged to the Weasleys. He sat up as Bill scooped it up, looking proudly up at Percy. The five-year-old was grinning, and he picked Scabbers up and clutches him to his chest.
"Good job, Scabbers!" he said. "You get extra dessert tonight."
And though he had extra dessert most nights, this pleased Scabbers greatly.
Bill convinced Charlie to let the Niffler go, and they all headed inside. They were all fairly confident that the Niffler wouldn't try to return, as it had been through quite the ordeal; it wasn't every day that it was run out of gardens by a rat and three rambunctious boys, after all.
They walked through the door and were met by a thin-lipped Molly Weasley. She frowned when she saw Charlie, who was covered in mud and grass stains.
"Charlie," she complained. "We've talked about this. You can't ruin your clothes every time you go outside!"
Charlie looked indignant. "But Mum! There was a Niffler, and we had to catch it—"
Molly looked started. "A Niffler?"
The three eldest Weasley boys all nodded vigorously.
"Scabbers found it, Mummy!" Percy stated proudly. "And he retrieved your earrings!" Retrieved had been yesterday's word of the day.
Molly's eyes crinkled in amusement at her son's chosen vocabulary, then widened as he finished his sentence.
"My earrings?" she repeated. "What— oh!"
Bill held out his handful of gold, and Molly quickly took it from him.
"So that's where your father's watch went!" she exclaimed. "Oh, and here's this week's spending money too! Oh boys." She looked at each of them tenderly, kissing the tops of their heads. "Thank you. How about the three of you get cleaned up, and you can help me bake some cake, hmm?"
Since "help me bake some cake" meant "lick the spoon", the boys eagerly agreed, and thundered up the stairs to change out of their dirty clothes. When they went back down, Molly was already putting the cake in the oven and had their spoons ready. She even, much to Scabbers' delight, put a dollop of chocolate batter onto a napkin and slid it over to him.
Treats like this weren't common in the Weasley house, though the finished cakes were— everyone eating knew to savor what they had.
Bill suddenly looked up. "Mum— the Niffler has taken things from other people. They're still in the garden."
Molly rushed outside to get the rest of the gold, half-heartedly scolding the boys for not mentioning sooner. Scabbers enjoyed his share of the chocolate, and once he was finished, he watched the boys work on theirs. Soon, though, his eyelids began to feel heavy. Just as he was drifting off, however, Percy seized him round the middle and carried him up to his room, where they played until dinner time.
After dinner, Percy bathed and got ready for bed. The small boy crawled under his duvet and placed Scabbers gently beside him. The rat curled up, exhausted but happy. Most days ended this way, and Scabbers was glad for it.
Arthur came in a few minutes later, and read a rather ridiculous story featuring a hippogriff, a unicorn, and a conga line. When it was finished, Percy and Arthur had laughed themselves silly, Scabbers tittering with mirth alongside them. Then Percy settled down, and Arthur kissed his forehead. Arthur ran a finger down Scabbers' spine, and he squeaked his appreciation.
"Daddy?" Percy called as Arthur turned to go out of the room.
Arthur paused at the door. "Yes, Percy?"
Percy's brown eyes peered curiously at his father over the duvet. "Was that story preposterous?"
Arthur chuckled loudly, his own eyes twinkling behind his crooked spectacles before he answered. "Yes, son. Very preposterous." Arthur smiled at his Percy once more. "Your mother will be up to say goodnight soon, all right?"
Percy nodded, and said goodnight again before Arthur left to put the twins to bed.
Shortly afterward, Molly entered the room, looking tired but relaxed. "Percy, honey? Are you still awake?"
Percy nodded quickly, though he looked a bit sluggish. "Yes Mummy! We have to pick tomorrow's word, remember?"
Molly hummed in agreement. She walked over and sat in the edge of the bed, then picked up Percy's dictionary off of the bedside table.
"Pick a page," she instructed.
Percy did, and Molly slid her finger down the page slowly until he told her to stop. Scabbers, as always, was interested to find out what word he had chosen.
Molly read the word aloud. "Content."
She read Percy the various definitions of the word (it was an adjective, noun, and verb), but Scabbers' sleepy mind focused on only two words.
Peaceful happiness.
Scabbers yawned, stretched, then cuddled closely to Percy as the lights went out. Peaceful happiness, indeed.