A/N: This is for the Golden Snitch, and the International Women's Day Event! It is on Laika the space dog, from which I wrote in the perspective of cat McGonagall and (?). Prompts used include: Emotion (fear), Color (silver), Color (midnight blue), and Setting (Owlery).
I'm from Ilvermorny, in the Wampus house.
Enjoy :)
Part 1
The tabby cat padded along the street, oblivious to the hideous creature following her.
The orange street lamps casted a dim, hazy glow across the alley. It was eerily silent, not even the rustling of wind in the trees or the sound of a dog barking to break the quiet. All was still. Except for the tabby cat.
She hustled — quietly yet quickly — through the dark alley, nimbly stepping over the rocks and broken glass that littered the dusty floor. She felt scared, something she hadn't felt in quite a while. For nearly seventy years, in fact. The fear made her want to quit her task and Apparate back to London. She knew what was following her, and she knew why. That was the source of her fear, and the reason why she wanted to stop. Yet she also knew that stopping would certainly get her killed, and she told herself that she hadn't dodged Death for seventy years just to get her soul sucked out in an abandoned, poorly lit alleyway.
No, she would proceed. But proceeding didn't mean she wasn't allowed to be scared.
She finally came to the end of the alley, where a large stone wall blocked any further trespassing. Keenly aware of the thing approaching her at a steady rate, she placed her furry paw on the stone wall, right where a small marking was engraved into the stone. It was a detail that only an animal with acute sight would be able to distinguish.
The wall hummed with a supernatural force, and slowly pulled apart from the middle, revealing a long, dark tunnel within its depths.
The cat wasted no time. She sprinted inside, hoping the walls would close in just enough time to shut out the thing chasing her. Alas, her luck had run short, for she felt the familiar icy cold enter the tunnel with her, just before the walls slammed shut.
The cat followed each pebble in the middle of her path that appeared every hundred yards. At the fifth pebble, she would reach her destination, according to the plan. She didn't doubt the plan even the smallest bit, but there was worry expanding in her chest at the idea that she might not make it to the end to fulfill the plan to its entirety.
The chilling, icy cold snaked up her tail first, penetrating through the layers of fur that were supposed to protect her from cold. But the cat knew that this cold was not the usual drop in temperature. This cold meant death. Death that would come quickly. The cat shivered despite herself. Even after seventy long years, she still feared when her time would come.
The cat approached the fourth pebble and quickened her pace, ignoring the burning in her legs and the inferno in her chest. The cold had meandered up to her neck now, and she found it even more difficult to breathe, knowing that death was knocking right at her door.
She repeated over and over to herself, Just make it to the fifth pebble. Just make it to the fifth pebble, and this will be more manageable.
But she could feel Death's teeth now, feel them biting into her flesh and sucking the life right out of her, yearning to replace her body with one lacking a soul. A blizzard of benumbing ice swallowed her mind. She could feel her body splitting into thin wisps that fluttered behind her, towards her attacker. She was going . . . she had failed . . .
The cat released a choken meow, one that meant goodbye. She knew she couldn't last forever.
She suddenly tripped over something in the ground, stumbling and landing in a shivering heap on the dirty floor. A blinding, futuristic flash of light was emitted from something just beside the suffering tabby cat, targeting toward the monster cloaked in darkness . . .
A phoenix, pulsing with light and warmth and safety burst into the air, flapping its wings and igniting the whole tunnel with pure light. The monster was visible now, unprotected by its shroud of darkness. It was a floating mass of tattered black robes, a hood obscuring its face except a rotting mouth that was open wide with terror at the sight of the phoenix. It's scabbed, putrefying hands covered its face in horror. The phoenix, face calm and emitting hope, swallowed the hideous beast of night, eliminating it entirely from the world.
The tabby cat was in critical condition now. She found she was barely breathing, and shivered uncontrollably, as if the monster was still pursuing her.
"Lumos," said a hoarse, male voice. A bulb of light appeared in the thick darkness, illuminating its conjurer.
He was a man of age, though the sparkle in his eyes showed that he did not abide to the limits of age. He had a long, fluffy white beard and hair, and was clothed in a magenta robe. Behind half-moon spectacles, his eyes were ablaze with adventure. He held a long, nimble stick in his hand, which held the bulb of light at its top end.
The man removed something from his pocket and placed it in front of the shivering tabby. The cat nibbled at it weakly, but it affected her positively, for in the blink of an eye, a tall, wrinkled woman sporting a tight bun, spectacles, and robes, was standing in the place of the cat. She took a few deep breaths, then finished off the rest of her chocolate, one which was created especially to recuperate one after a dementor attack.
"Thank you, Dumbledore," the woman said weakly.
"Tumultuous journey, eh, Minerva?" said the elderly wizard. "A miracle you came here in one piece." Dumbledore's eyes glinted, knowing very well that Minerva would counter his statement.
"Perhaps it is not so much a miracle, but the drive of one's own will to succeed," she replied.
Dumbledore smiled. "Wise words from a wise teacher, Professor. Shall we proceed?"
"Certainly, though I have a few concerns I wish to discuss with you."
The wise witch and wizard began walking down the tunnel. Minerva lit her wand as well, giving off enough light throughout the tunnel for them to see where they were walking.
"Are you quite certain that the creatures back at the Owlery will attend to the duties we assigned to them?" questioned Professor McGonagall.
"We have paid them quite a sum of money, Minerva. I sure hope they will," replied Dumbledore with a light laugh.
Minerva knew this was true, yet she just wanted to hear it from the wizard's mouth. All they could do was hope that the plan would carry out as formulated from here.