Spring was in the air. The snow was gone from the Hogwarts grounds, and the birds were starting to return to the trees. After putting up little more than token resistance, Mrs. Norris surrendered to the urge to find out if her winter-dulled reflexes were up to the task of catching any of the winged teases. She slipped out of the castle past the ankles of an exiting student, and surveyed the territory around her.
As if her prey had seen her coming, all of their voices fell silent. She shrugged. No cause for concern. Not while there was a perfectly good squirrel a scant few yards away. It gave her a good run for her money, stretching her limbs as they had not been stretched in months, before dashing up a tree with limbs too thin to support her weight. She screamed at it, and it chittered back before leaping into the next tree and disappearing from sight.
The cat looked around and hmphed at the lack of motion other than students. She could easily draw blood from their ankles – and her claws slipped out of their furry sheaths at the thought – but she'd been doing that all winter, and it had palled for her as a source of entertainment.
What other options were there for her amusement? Her ears perked up. Fang! On a day like today, the dog's human would almost certainly have the windows of his cottage open to air out the winter fustiness while he was off working on the grounds. That provided a golden opportunity for her to torment the clumsy beast and goad him into leaping at her and, in the course of missing, knocking over breakables.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Mrs. Norris trotted across the lawn. Her whiskers twitched in a feline smirk as she saw the open cottage window. This was going to be fun!
She approached cautiously, with her very softest tread. She did not see or hear any sign of life, though her nose detected a hint of a strange smell. That was nothing new around Fang's home.
Just as she reached the side of the cottage, a dark-brown form hurtled around the corner and ran at her. Without waiting to confirm its identity, she scrambled up the wall and onto the roof. From a position of relative safety, she peered over the edge at her pursuer.
That was not Fang! In fact, she had never before seen anything like it. The stocky body, about the same size as the dog's, was more uniform in girth for its entire length, which was covered with bristles. The elongated head had a curved horn growing from a muzzle full of jagged, razor-sharp teeth. The four feet were like a cross between hooves and paws, with solid heels and claws at the front. On the creature's back were stubby wings that beat with all their might but were not large enough to lift it off the ground.
Fortunately for Mrs. Norris, who was shaking so hard that she feared she might fall off the roof. What in the name of fang and fur was that thing? And how well could it climb? It stood on its hind legs, scrabbling for clawhold in the rough surface of the wall, making an odd snuffle-growl as it stared up at her with eerie reddish eyes.
"Help!" the cat wailed. "Is anybody there? Help!" She backed up away from the creature, which had managed to climb about a foot off the ground.
Through the open window flew a more familiar form. Fang! The dog hurled himself at the strange beast, barking like a maniac, and knocked it to the ground. It fell onto its back and flailed around before rolling over and pushing itself upright. In that moment, Fang sank his teeth into a hind leg and shook. The creature lost its footing again. Then, with a mighty tug, it pulled itself free and dashed away toward the forest, whining with pain.
Mrs. Norris leaned over the edge of the roof and looked around as far as she could see. Her attacker was nowhere in sight. She sat down and began frantically grooming in an effort to calm herself. She stopped short when she noticed Fang watching her.
With a doggy grin, he whuffed, "You can come down now."
The fur on her back rose again. Could she really? The last time they had been together, on the same level, he had chased her up and down the halls of Hogwarts until at last she had taken refuge on top of one of the suits of armor. She was not at all certain that this sudden friendliness was to be trusted.
"Come on," he urged again. "It's all right. I won't hurt you. I'll be in enough trouble with Master when he finds out. I don't need any more." When she continued to hesitate, he added, "You can even jump onto my back if it's too far for you."
Now that sounded like a real deal. Mrs. Norris inched to the edge of the roof and leaped off onto the broad back beneath her. When she hit, reflexively she gripped with her claws. Her rescuer yelped. "Sorry! So sorry!" She jumped to the ground, landing on paws that still shook slightly. "If you like, I can wash it for you."
The dog's answering look was suspicious, but he lay down and allowed her to climb back onto his back. If cats could blush, she would have been scarlet with mortification at the scratches she had made without meaning to. She always wanted to have a reason for wounding. As she set herself to cleaning and soothing the damage, she asked, "Why are you going to be in trouble? All you did was help me."
Fang grunted. "That thing was Master's new toy. He made it. Kind of. And it wasn't easy. The three before it died while they were still little. That one's going to be awfully hard to get back. I hope he's not going to want me to help hunt for it." He whimpered, and his body twitched, almost shaking Mrs. Norris off his back.
"Maybe he won't want it back," the cat suggested as hopefully as she could manage, which was not very. From what she'd overheard, the groundskeeper adored strange creatures, the stranger the better. She felt a sudden stab of sympathy for her rescuer.
"Maybe." The canine voice overflowed with doubt.
A few minutes later, Mrs. Norris decided that her work was done. She leaped to the ground, saying, "Well, I'd best get back to the castle. My human will be wondering where I am." She paused and then added, "Thank you for… for saving my life. If I can ever help you out of a tight spot, I will."
Fang hmphed a response. He sounded distracted, as if he was already contemplating the punishment that might be coming his way for running off the what's-it.
With a shrug and a quick, self-conscious tongue-swipe at her shoulder, the cat loped away toward the castle. She was not accustomed to having to express gratitude, and to a dog, no less. Would he ever take her up on her offer? She had no way of knowing. But for now she would plan on refrain from picking on him – at least until the next time.