Crookshanks basked in the moonlight, admiring how his claws glowed in the gossamer light as it glinted off the curve of each razor-sharp nail.
He was meticulous in his grooming; taking extraordinary measures to hone each and every barbed nail with inordinate care.
He needed to make sure that each set of claws remained fully functional at all times.
That rat which Hermione's loud, red-haired friend so ardently protected was an abomination.
As Crookshanks pulled at a snag in one of his nails, ensuring its razor-sharp quality, he imagined it slicing into that blasted rat and dripping wet with blood.
