Well, this is my first HP fic, but I think it's my...39th over all. I wrote it solely at the request of a friend. I cannot be held responsible for any mental distress it may or may not cause you, since the title basically sums it up. JK Rowling owns HP & all characters involved in said story. Have fun reading.

Oh, one more thing. This idea... I didn't put a huge amount of thought into it. I'm saving up my Harry Potter enthusiasm for a story about a certain person we're all aware of. ;)

Kiyoshi'sGirl64

Too Creepy to Even Consider

The man walked up to the child. "Where are your parents?" he asked. The small girl looked at him through shining yellow eyes. Then she smiled, light glinting off her sharp teeth.

"My father is dead," she replied with more cheer than the man would have wished. "Mommy's up at the school."

Confusion crossed the muggle man's face. "What school?" he questioned, taking the girl's hand with the intention of taking her to the police station. Only then does he notice the sharp claws that tip her fingers instead of nails. As though she feels him staring at her hands, the claws retract slightly, leaving only a slight point poking out above the skin.

"The private one," she answered, happily skipping along beside him.

"Okay." He had no idea what she was talking about, and he was beginning to wonder if the school she spoke of was actually a psychiatric facility. The yellow eyes were beginning to set him on edge, as was the unnatural, catlike grace of her movements. "What's your name?"

"Athena McGonagall," she answered. "I'm a cat!"

The man nodded and left her on the steps of the police station. "Part cat," she added to herself, walking away from the muggle law enforcement agency. "Mommy's not really a cat, of course, but she's very good at pretending."

Six years earlier…

Crookshanks jumped up onto Hermione's lap, purring. Hermione smiled and scratched behind his ears. "What's got you in such a good mood?" she asked affectionately. Crookshanks just purred more loudly than ever.

Hermione smiled again and stood, allowing him to jump off of her lap. "Ron, Harry," she said, pounding on the room to their dorm. "Get up. We need to eat breakfast before going to transfiguration." She heard some grumbling and cursing and took it as a sign that they were listening to her.

An hour later they entered the transfiguration classroom. When they left, they were not weighed down with homework. Ron asked, "Was it just me or was McGonagall in a really good mood today?"

"Don't complain," Harry warned him. "We have Quidditch practice the rest of this week, and the less homework we have, the better."

Ron just shrugged in agreement, and the three of them headed on to charms.

As the next few weeks went by, McGonagall's good mood was at first contagious. Then it became worrisome for many of the students. While she was once again giving homework, it was in lesser quantities than usually, and she was not grading it so harshly. Many of the students—primarily Ron—worried that she was just messing with their heads and was going to throw something impossibly difficult at them any day.

"It's not like people change like that overnight," he complained loudly in the common room. "She's up to something. And it's going to be painful for us, I just know it."

"Quit complaining, Ron," Hermione chided yet again, searching around the common room for her cat. "I never thought I'd hear you wish you had more homework." She stood and addressed the entire population of Gryffindors in the room, "Has anyone seen Crookshanks this evening? I can't find him."

"The devil cat?" Seamus asked. Hermione frowned, and he added hurriedly, "Nope, haven't seen him."

Ron entirely ignored Hermione's question, instead saying, "I'm not complaining about a lack of work. I'm complaining about the fact that this ease in the amount of work means a flood is coming."

"So you're complaining about work we haven't gotten yet?" Hermione asked. "Where is that cat?"

"Yes," Ron said.

"Shut up, both of you," Harry said, chewing on the end of his quill. "I can't concentrate and this potions essay is due tomorrow."

Ron sat up straight in his chair. "Tomorrow? Shit."

As they worked on their essays, Hermione continued to search for Crookshanks. It was past midnight when the three of them finally gave up. Hermione looked dejected. Ron looked at her and said, "He's fine, Hermione. That cat is more tiger than housecat. There are plenty of mice around this place for him to eat. He'll show up when he wants to."

She nodded, and the three of them went to bed. The next day, potions was no easier than usual. Then for no apparent reason at all, Hermione turned pale and hissed, "I need to talk to Professor McGonagall."

"Get something wrong on the pop quiz?" Ron teased through the fumes hovering above his cauldron, which contained a potion several shades darker than it was supposed to be. "What did I do wrong? Every class period, I swear."

"Yes, I think so," Hermione answered, looking flustered.

Harry shrugged. "Just finish your potion and talk to her during lunch. If she's not in the great hall, you can check her office."

Hermione relaxed slightly and nodded.

Later, during lunch, the three of them walked up to Professor McGonagall's office. The door was slightly ajar, so Ron pushed it open. They walked in, looking around from their teacher. Then their eyes fell on an orange ball of fur in the corner. Curled up next to Crookshanks was a tabby with unmistakable markings around her eyes. The three of them stared for several minutes, then hurried from the room, entirely horrified.

"I think I need to puke," Ron said.

"Oh, they were just snuggling, Ron," Hermione said, sounding unsure.

"McGonagall's not really a cat," Harry reminded her. "If they were both human, that was a lot closer than just snuggling."

Hermione looked vaguely disgusted, and Ron said, "Does anyone have hand sanitizer for my eyes? And my brain?"

Back to the present…

Athena McGonagall walked into her mother's office. Professor McGonagall had not bothered to look for her daughter, knowing that she would wander back home eventually. She frowned upon seeing Athena. "Why are you so dirty?" she demanded.

Athena grinned, showing pointed teeth. Then, having morphed into a cat more easily than McGonagall could even after this many years, Athena began licking her bright orange fur clean of dirt.