AN: Comps and Prompts down the bottom.
Henry (and Harry)
AlwaysPadfoot
Number seven Privet Drive was surprisingly quiet for once.
With the new kittens Arabella had just had to adopt, Henry wasn't getting his much-loved long mornings of sleep. So far, since the sun had risen, he'd batted away all three rambunctious siblings. Henry finally lost his temper as the scruffiest new runt threw himself into the cat bed he was curled up in. The older cat shot up and hissed at the tabby kitten, baring sharp fangs that had brought down many a bird. Relishing in seeing the kitten's tail puff up, Henry growled lowly and stalked away.
He'd decided he did not like young ruffians.
Keeping low to the kitchen tiles, Henry slunk through the legs of the table and chairs. His only mission — get food, and get out into the fresh air.
The floor was cold under his paws as he approached the dishes of water and food. Lapping up water, Henry was very aware of Tibbles watching him from the windowsill above. The old ginger bastard was even grumpier and more irritable than Henry was. That being said, they happened to have bonded over bitching about the new kittens.
"Those little buggers wake you?"
Henry straightened, licking his lips before responding. "Yes. I haven't slept in properly for weeks."
Tibbles huffed and stretched himself out on the windowsill. The spring sun shone down through the netted curtains on the patch of white fur that marked his belly.
"The old hag just had to get herself three more cats," Tibbles muttered, squeezing his eyes closed as he basked. "Just cats as well; I don't detect even a quarter Kneazle in them — mongrels."
Henry rolled his eyes at the old ginger. Licking his paw, he pushed it across the back of his ears. He was about to make another comment intended to slight the new kittens when the radio came on upstairs and the floorboards creaked.
"Great," Tibbles muttered. "She's up."
He rolled onto his front, jumped off the windowsill and landed with a soft thud on the floor beside Henry. Grumbling obscenities, Tibbles hurried away to hide.
Having lived with Arabella since he was a kitten, Henry learnt to avoid being smothered by cuddles. She could be irritating to say the least. This morning, however, he got swept off his feet as he was making a dash for the cat flap in the back door.
"Who's a good boy?" Arabella cooed into Henry's fur as she carried him towards the sitting room. "It's time for Bargain Hunt."
Henry emitted a low growl as she walked over to her ugly pink armchair and dropped into it.
Escaping her clutches was no easy feat.
He had to pretend to curl up in her lap at first. After enduring twenty minutes of pretty bad television while being fussed and cooed at, Henry finally shot away and ran until he was on the fence at the back of the garden.
Shaking off the smell of decade-old perfume, he balanced along the top of the fence and sauntered across into Mrs Gumbier's territory.
The small Indian lady was engaged in some gardening and didn't even notice Henry walking above her. He loved the aroma that lingered around her house, and he enjoyed watching her watering her dead plants like they might come back to life. Leaping down into the flower bed, the dirt was moist from yesterday's rain. Henry sunk into the soil slightly and Mrs Gumbier startled as he emerged from the bushes.
"Oh gosh," she gasped as she straightened up and reached out to stroke Henry's fur. "Why, hello, gorgeous. Who's a good girl?"
Henry huffed at being misgendered as the lady stood. She picked up her watering can and went across to the aforementioned dead plants to water them.
"Are you still watering those dead plants?" Henry sighed.
"You're so noisy today, Missus," Mrs Gumbier said. "Are you hungry?"
"No, you just can't understand me, you incompetent fool," he said.
Of course, all Mrs Gumbier heard was a series of disgruntled mewls as Henry sauntered away. He heard her sigh as he rounded the corner of the house, heading for the open gate.
As the street came into view, Henry sat at the end of the Gumbiers' drive and surveyed the street. The truth was, he'd been waiting for an opportunity to venture across to number four. Amongst the litter, number four was dangerous. One of the younger humans, the rotund one, enjoyed kicking things — including living creatures. Aslan, one of the younger cats, had come back traumatised after deciding the back garden of number four was a place to have an adventure.
Henry had thought him stupid.
Except now, he'd planned his own adventure. For some reason, Henry deeply mistrusted the residents. There was something about them. They just had an air that suggested they were hiding something. He was sure they had a secret and Henry wanted to know it.
"Curiosity killed the cat."
Henry cocked his head and turned to see Tibbles walking down the path towards him.
"You can't go across there," the old cat continued.
"Very helpful," Henry responded, his gaze shifting back to the house. "Any tips?"
"Actually, yes," Tibbles responded. "Don't get within a twenty foot radius of number four."
And with that, he padded silently away. Henry stayed put. He was debating how was best to get close to the house without being spotted. If he stayed out of sight, maybe he'd be able to track the movements of the humans inside. He needed to know what was so curious about the house where no cat dared to roam.
Henry crossed the street and slipped underneath the navy vehicle on the drive.
There was noise coming from inside, but Henry couldn't really detect anything specific. He crossed the front path and hid in the rose bushes under the front window. Surrounded by red and cherry blossom roses, Henry revelled in the smell for a moment until he caught himself on one of the thorns. His attention was very quickly brought back to the noises inside.
"Diddykins, we have to go," a shrill voice said.
"I'm watching the television," a boy screamed back.
Henry carefully picked his way through the bushes, wondering whether he could get a closer look. If he jumped up onto the windowsill, one of them would surely see him. He was just debating how best to get to the back garden when the front door opened.
Henry's body lowered to the ground automatically as he watched a huge man leave the house. Crawling slightly forward, he watched as the man threw a bag into the back of the car.
"Petunia," he yelled. "We are going to be late."
"Dudley, please turn the TV off," a woman pleaded from inside
"No!"
Henry was creeping further and further forward even as the man paced impatiently.
It looked like the humans were going on a trip.
The young human started screaming as his mother tried to get him to stop watching television. Henry wanted to hold his paws over his ears; the boy was so loud.
As the large man went back into the house, Henry seized his opportunity and followed the man inside.
Sniffing around, he couldn't seem to track down the thing that had drawn him to the house. Remaining close to the wall, he was starting to wonder whether he had been simply too curious for his own good. Then, suddenly, someone moved in the kitchen ahead of him. Henry instinctually shot sideways into the cupboard under the stairs.
It was a good job he had. From the tight spot in the semi-darkness, Henry noticed a large shadow being cast across the slither of daylight coming through the door.
"Boy!"
Henry startled at the roar of the huge man's voice. He shifted back and low to ground, ready to pounce.
"Boy, get here now," he yelled.
Was he talking to the small fat human?
Henry was quickly proved wrong. He heard light steps on the stairs above him and a pair of tatty shoes appeared in front of the large man outside the cupboard.
"You best not have used all the water, boy," the man growled.
"No, Uncle Vernon," the small boy responded.
"Get in your cupboard."
Henry tensed as the man grabbed the young boy and threw him onto the small bed he was hiding underneath. The springs creaked and the boy's body hit the wall at the back of the cupboard with a thud. Uncle Vernon slammed the cupboard door, trapping Henry and the boy inside.
In the silence, Henry focused on the soft glow of light emanating from the gap between the door and carpet.
Did the people here make the young boy sleep in the cupboard?
Even Henry knew that wasn't acceptable. For a long moment, he waited, listening to the adults drag the other screaming boy from the house before the front door slammed. Then, eventually, the boy sat on the bed above him sniffed and sobbed a little bit. He shifted above Henry and the space they were in under the stairs was suddenly doused in dusty yellow light.
He was quietly crying now.
Upon the realisation that Henry was stuck in here, he decided he had very little choice than to show his face. Crawling out from underneath the bed, Henry laid his amber eyes on the small figure of the boy. His face was buried in his knees; his faded red t-shirt far too big for his scrawny stature. He didn't even look up — the boy was too busy crying.
"Why so sad?" Henry questioned, leaping up beside the boy.
The boy looked up suddenly, as though he had understood more than a mewl. Shock filled his wide eyes behind the taped frames of his glasses. He shook his head ever so slightly
"How did you get in here?" he asked hoarsely, as though they'd be able to sustain a conversation. "Uncle Vernon hates cats."
"People who hate cats were probably mice in an earlier life," Henry thought to himself.
The boy's eyes were still puffy and red, and he kept sniffing pathetically. Henry pushed his head against one of the boy's arms in an effort to comfort him.
"I-I'm probably going to get in trouble, and my head hurts," the boy mumbled, subconsciously rubbing behind Henry's ears. "When I hurt someone, I have to apologise. He n-never comes back and a-a-apologises. And I'm trying not to c-cr-cry."
His words were all sniffly and garbled because he was trying to speak so fast.
Henry felt awful. The boy shouldn't be locked under the stairs; it didn't make any sense that the other humans would shut the boy in here. He had seen the room that Arabella slept in — the whole litter would fit in the bed with her. This small space was uninhabitable.
Running his body against the boy's side, Henry tried to relieve his stress and soothe his sobs. That was when Henry sensed it, deep within the raven-haired boy — magic. No wonder he had been drawn to number four.
"Now you're locked in here with me, the freak." He sniffled. "Are you one of Mrs Figg's cats?"
Henry put his front paws on the boy's thigh and looked up into his watery green eyes, mewling gently in agreement.
"I'm Harry," the boy responded.
He let Henry climb into his lap and drop down into his crossed legs. Harry stroked him softly, somehow knowing all of Henry's favoured spots. And eventually, to his surprise, Harry stopped crying and sniffling. It felt good to have helped the young human. Henry put his chin down on Harry's leg and sighed, purring gently.
"I promise I will look out for you, Harry."
The bespectacled boy startled. "D-did you just say something?"
Henry turned to look up at him, shock flooding through him as he spoke. "Can you understand me?"
"I can," Harry admitted.
This had never happened before. Henry had never had a human speak to him; he was stunned — stunned and confused.
"Well, this is new."
Comps and Prompts
QL Round Four: Write from a pet's perspective of an adventure. [6. (phrase) under the stairs, 8. (action) running, 9. (dialogue) "Who's a good boy/girl?"]
IHC: 166. Location - 4 Privet Drive
365: 180. Location - 4 Privet Drive
SC — Days of the Year — Red Rose Day: Write about someone being pricked by a thorn.
SC — Summer Prompts — (word) Gardening
SC — Colour Prompts — Cherry Blossom
SC — Birthstones —
SC — Flowers — Marigold: (dialogue) "Are you still watering those dead plants?"
SC — Shays Musical Challenge — 5. Pippin - Write about someone who likes adventuring.
SC — Zodiac Signs — (word) glow
SC — Gryffindor Prompts — Easy: Harry Potter / Trait: Cantankerous
WC - Character Appreciation - 6. (location) under the stairs [BONUS]
WC - Disney Challenge - C5. Grumpy - Write about someone grumpy.
WC - Shannons Showcase - 15. (object) Red Rose
WC - Book Club - Nibs: (word) helpful, (plot point) comforting someone, (trait) inquisitive, (dialogue) "He never comes back and apologises."
WC - Showtime - 7. You'll be back - (action) crying
WC - CYB - O4. glasses, D5. "Why so sad?", W1. young
WC - Lyric Alley - 19. And I'm tryin' not to cry
WC - Ami's Audio Admirations - 3. Peter Rouse - Write about someone being the victim of bullying.
WC - Sophie's Shelf - Vault 53: Prompt - Stress
WC - Emy's Emporium - Portugal 2. (trait) lonely
WC - Angel's Arcade - Sora: (object) key, (plot point) setting off on an adventure, (trait) brave, (colour) red, (word set) light, promise, truth
WC - Lo's Lowdown - OP3. Genre - Friendship
Word Count: 2021