The air in the halls of Hogwarts was dense with dust and pollen blown in from the grounds. Dense, at least, to the sensitive nose and eyes of a cat. Mrs. Norris stepped into a patch of sunlight. The combination of sudden brightness and drifting particles set off a sneezing fit that startled several passing students, who threw her glances that she thought were alarmed before increasing the speed of their steps to distance themselves from the helplessly-spasming cat. What were they afraid of? Some kind of uncontrolled release of magic she did not have? Or perhaps they just did not like cat snot.
Spring was not the best time of year, she mused as the sneezes finally subsided and, still in the middle of the hall, she addressed the critical issue of cleaning her fur. She licked one gray paw and applied it to removing any goo that remained stuck to her face. The trees and other greenery around the castle were pleasant enough once their leaves were fully in place and provided shade, but during this time of growth, the pollen that they shed disturbed her breathing and her peace of mind.
Almost as much as humans who were not wise enough to appreciate her presence, she thought, baring her teeth and hissing at a student who, in passing, aimed a kick at her head. The cleansing paw paused, claws extended, in case the little fool tried again. When he did not, she returned to her ablutions.
Satisfied at last with her cleanliness, and with the number of students who'd had to redirect their steps to avoid walking into her, she considered where to go for peace and easy breathing. Perhaps her human would appreciate her assistance with whatever tasks he was tackling today. He was, after all, so terribly underappreciated by his own species. Her presence might help boost his self-esteem.
Mrs. Norris trotted into Filch's office… and found herself in the middle of a cloud of dust. Brandishing a broom of the Muggle variety, he cackled something at her, of which only the words "spring cleaning" were clear. Before she could move out of range, she was overwhelmed by another fit of sneezing, which was only aggravated by being swept up into his arms and held against his dusty robes. His free hand stroked her head, and then used the edge of his sleeve to wipe her nose clean. She blew one last glob of goo onto the fabric before squirming free and leaping onto the floor. Ignoring his voice calling her name, she dashed back out into the hall, again in search of a place to relax in peace.
"Why did I have to end up with the only human in this entire castle who can't clean with magic?" she growled to herself, instantly regretting her thoughtlessness in vocalizing her complaint. Hopefully no one within earshot spoke Cat. Filch's lack of magical ability was his secret, and not hers to reveal. Students had expectations of the staff of a magic school, and if they found out that a member of said staff was a Squib, their current lack of respect would likely turn to outright torment based on their contempt. That was something that no cat, even one with issues of her own, would allow to happen to her human!
Overwhelmed with guilt, she did what any cat would in moments of distress: she sat down – off to the side, this time – and washed. The office dust that clung to her fur tasted sour with the remains of the winter. Just as well that the rest of it would be gone by the time she wanted to curl up in a corner of her human's sanctuary and sleep.
She was putting the finishing tongue-touches on the base of her tail when a student pelted by, her jarring step leaving a trail of pollen shaken from her robes in her wake. Oh, no! Not again!
Yes, again. Mrs. Norris was overcome by yet another sneezing fit. This one left her dizzy and lightheaded, and her abdominal muscles ached from the repeated contractions. Too miserable to do more than give her face a token paw-wiping, she slunk down the hall. Where can I go that's sheltered from the outside? she asked herself dully.
Perhaps somewhere on the dungeon level. It would still be cold, but should be far enough removed from the doors and windows to have clean air. The dungeons themselves would be too unpleasant to be restful, but there was at least one classroom that might offer a place for her to take a nap.
The Potions room was occupied, but not by students. Good, the cat thought, slipping past the narrowly-opened door. No students meant no tormentors. And surely Professor Snape would not mind her watching… What was he doing? Whatever it was, the set of his shoulders spoke of intense concentration. He dropped something into the cauldron in front of him, and stirred smoothly with his wand. Smoke puffed upward, and he waved a hand to drive it away from the vicinity of his face. He removed the stopper from a small bottle and held it above the cauldron, tilting it carefully. The smoke drifted catward. The bottle tilted. The smoke reached the cat, tickling her nose…
It was just a little sneeze. Just one little sneeze. But big enough to startle Snape into jerking his arm, dumping a random quantity of whatever the bottle contained into the cauldron.
The mixture exploded. The professor roared a curse and turned, wand raised. The cat launched herself back into the hall and dashed down it, followed by splinters of door frame, none of which hit her.
That escape was much too close for comfort! Once Mrs. Norris had attained a safe distance from the irate Snape, she stopped for a well-earned wash.
Ablutions completed, she realized that her adventure had left her with quite an appetite. Her eyes brightened. The kitchen should be pollen-free and food-full. A visit there would kill two birds with one stone – and she was almost hungry enough to eat those two birds.
A cat had means of accessing restricted areas that humans did not. She crept into a kitchen bustling with pre-lunch activity. Ducking from the shelter of the oven side that concealed her secret passageway to safety beneath a heavy table, she paused to assess the possibilities for a snack. A steaming platter of sliced roast beef on a table just across the way appeared the best option. With the speed and deftness of long practice, she launched herself upward, snatched a slice, and dashed back to beneath the table, earning herself no more reaction than a glare from the house elf who happened to be looking in the right direction at the right time.
The meat tasted divine – exactly what Mrs. Norris needed to compensate for an otherwise-terrible morning. She scarfed the beef down, and was all ready to settle in for a post-meal wash when a familiar unpleasant sensation began to rise within her. Ears lowered, she fought the urge and held it off as long as she could.
In the end, there was no preventing the inevitable. She heaved and hacked, hacked and heaved, at last bringing up well-chewed but as yet undigested beef, along with a furball the size of a large human finger, all over the bare feet of one of the house elves.
A hand gripped her by the scruff of the neck and lifted her off the floor. "Nasty kitty! Nasty, sick kitty!"
The next thing she knew, Mrs. Norris was in the middle of a room containing two rows of neatly-made beds: the in-patient ward of the Hospital Wing. The air was blissfully free of pollen and other contaminants, kept that way to assist in the recovery of the sick. Her face pulled into a feline grin. Not where she was planning to go, but it would suffice.
In fact, it might do more than suffice. One of the windows glowed bright with spring sunshine. The cat leaped up onto the sill and found it plenty wide enough to accommodate her body. She curled up in the pool of light, and soon was blissfully warm. This was the way life should be. It was the way life would be if it were summer all the time. Wouldn't that be grand? she thought, closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.