Disclaimer: This is purely a fan-fiction. All characters and plotlines are property of JK Rowling.
A/N: Written for QLFC Round 11
(I've referred to MySpace in my fic and: MySpace is a social media app which was very popular before Fb and Insta became a part of our daily routines)
Team: Falmouth Falcons
Position: Beater 1
Prompt: Where Are We Going?
Optional Prompts used:
(Creature) Cat
(Dialogue) "This isn't a game."
Word Count: 1873
Beta: siddhi.d.k and CaptainScorose Thank You!
The adventures of Crookshanks (and Professor McGonagall)
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had no dearth of famous personalities living within its confines. There was Harry Potter aka 'The Boy Who Lived', Hermione Granger affectionately called 'The Human Encyclopedia', the headmaster Albus Dumbledore aka 'The Smartest Wizard Ever' and so many more. There had been famous personalities who attempted to (unsuccessfully) make Hogwarts their home, beginning with Gilderoy Lockhart aka 'That Darn Crummy Liar'. However, there was a new celebrity who had gained his very own fan following within the castle to rival that of the much-loved Harry Potter. This celebrity was none other than that feline extraordinaire, that fluffy ginger stud-muffin, that ruler of all cats and destroyer of all rats: Crookshanks.
This beloved feline, legally adopted by Hermione Granger but adored by one and all (except one Ronald Weasley) had gained cult status within the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. His ability to scare off opponents, be they rats or humans, with one well-aimed glare, had cemented his status as the reigning cat of the school. Sonnets had been written praising his magnificent yellow eyes, people queued up to brush his thick virulently ginger fur, and many a female cat had been seen clustered around Crookshanks for the express purpose of admiring his distinguished bow-legged stride.
Hermione was, of course, very pleased with this turn of events. Crookshanks, in her opinion, deserved all this and more. Hadn't he exposed Scabbers without once being fooled? Hadn't he gulped down all those spiders that made Ron tremble like a leaf tossing in the wind? Crookshanks was one in a million without a doubt. Which was why it was very troublesome that Hermione hadn't seen Crookshanks for three days! Where could he be? There had been no one to greet her and no one to pet after she returned to the common room every day. Hermione had assumed he had gone traipsing off to chase a particularly evasive rat, and hadn't bothered to look for him with much seriousness. However, with Crookshanks missing for over seventy-two hours, she was well and truly worried. Ron and Harry, alas, would not treat the matter with the same magnitude.
"So, he's missing, so what Hermione? He's a cat! He's off licking his paws somewhere!" Ron's careless response had infuriated Hermione.
"He's not just some dumb animal, Ron! He happens to be a very intelligent and responsible cat! Much more responsible, let's say, than others who don't even bother to complete their assignments on time!" She said this with a disparaging gaze at Ron, who at that moment was busy copying Harry's Potions assignment.
"I'm really worried about him, he's never disappeared for longer than a day before this! You guys need to help me look for him."
Harry and Ron, occupied with passing their incomplete notes to each other, just nodded their agreement without paying much attention to Hermione's shrill tones. They wouldn't take her seriously. Poor Hermione! Always so worried about something. For heaven's sake, Crookshanks was a cat! Like any self-respecting male of his species, he must've felt smothered by all the feminine attention he was receiving! He needed his own space and had gone off for a little me-time. What was so difficult to comprehend about that? Hermione was being deliberately obtuse!
The next day, however, they found themselves herded along by a very determined Hermione, chastened by her threats of not helping them on any more assignments. Hermione had filled her pockets with Crookshanks' favorite edible treats and Harry and Ron, resigned to their fate, began to follow her around calling out for Crookshanks in surly, dispirited voices.
Their first clue to Crookshanks' whereabouts was provided by an interested-looking Luna Lovegood, who often followed Crookshanks around the castle convinced that he could ward off Wrackspurts.
"I haven't seen him for a couple of days at least. We went looking for my Gurdyroot. Someone has stolen it. It is very difficult to obtain, you know, and someone must've needed it to ward off those nasty Gulping Plimpies."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione hastily excused themselves and promised to keep an eye out for anyone carrying a large Gurdyroot. Luna had been with Crookshanks two days ago and had last seen him loitering around the girl's washroom that was home to Moaning Myrtle.
Harry and Ron groaned aloud in dismay. "It had to be her! That's all that this day needs! One serving of Loony Lovegood topped with an interview with that Miserable Myrtle!"
"At least she doesn't look at you as if you were naked, I feel as though I need to be wearing a suit of armor to deal with her!" Harry responded with a dark look.
Hermione, meanwhile, had already trotted off to interview Myrtle and Harry and Ron followed her with many muttered curses and lamentations.
Myrtle, true to form, decided to be infuriatingly elusive. Had she seen a ginger cat? Maybe, she couldn't positively confirm. She had been engaged with remembering all the times' people had teased her over the past decade. Those kinds of thoughts tended to keep one fully occupied, didn't Harry agree?
Harry agreed with appreciable speed. Myrtle fluttered her lashes behind her thick hazy glasses and assured everyone that she would try to remember Crookshanks' presence with all her might if Harry would agree to accompany her to her Death-Day Party that was to be held one week from now. She had always had to go alone and wouldn't it be a coup if an actual living person accompanied her to the shindig? Why, it would make all the past cruelties committed against her seem almost bearable!
Before Harry could open his mouth, Hermione accepted the invitation for him with alacrity and managed to dig out that Myrtle had indeed seen Crookshanks wandering around the girl's washroom, but that he had left with a couple of third years who were on their way to meet Professor Trelawney.
"This day just keeps getting better and better!" Ron groaned aloud.
"You're the one to complain! You don't have to accompany Moany-Mopey Myrtle for a date to some party!" Harry retorted with an accusing look at Hermione, traumatised by visions of the one other Death-Day Party he had had the misfortune to attend.
"Oh, stop complaining and shut your traps! This isn't a game! Crookshanks could've been kidnapped, or cat-napped or whatever this is!"
Ron muttered that whoever had decided to, disastrously, abduct Crookshanks would undoubtedly return him hale and hearty, with his own body covered in scratches and prostate with regrets. Couldn't they just give up and go back to the Common Room for a game of Wizard's Chess? One fulminating glare from Hermione, however, convinced him to swallow his complaints and follow her morosely to the tower that was Professor Trelawney's lair.
Professor Trelawney's Divination classroom (or Liar's Lair as Hermione called it) was located on the seventh floor, opposite the North Tower. Harry and Ron need not have worried, for Hermione had no intention of conversing with the professor whom she considered a Dotty Dunderhead. She moved straight towards a large painting hanging on a stone wall. A fat gray pony and an equally fat gray knight (thanks to his suit of armor) were reposing on a bare stretch of grass. The knight toddled onto his knees after seeing Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
"So you're back, are you, you trespassing knaves! Come to plunder my lands, steal my fine steed, and make merry at my expense! Well, yield at once for you shall not succeed in your mission, you mangy curs!"
But before the portly Sir Cadogan could draw his sword, Hermione had managed to glare him into submission. "Oh, stop blabbering and tell us if you've seen a gorgeous ginger cat anywhere near this tower!"
Sir Cadogan, sufficiently cowed and eager to please, gave this matter some thought. He admitted to seeing a 'fine tortoiseshell tabby' wandering hereabouts. He had had, Sir Cadogan said, a fine air of importance and a marvelous swishing tail. The feline had indeed toured around the North Tower but that gamekeeper Hagrid (who often visited Professor Trelawney for a cuppa) had carried it off with him.
The trio, with similarly raised eyebrows at the idea of Hagrid and Professor Trelawney being tea-drinking Buddies, took their leave of the knight and turned towards Hagrid's Cabin.
After climbing down several flights of stairs and huffing and puffing their way across the grounds they finally reached Hagrid's Cabin to find it…..locked.
Before Harry and Ron could start complaining, Hermione pointed out a pair of prints in Hagrid's pumpkin patch. "Look at that! Two sets of cats' feet! What has Crookshanks been up to? The ground is very muddy here, maybe we can track him to wherever he is going!"
And having made this declaration, Hermione began following the prints back to the castle. All this while she kept up a running commentary listing Crookshanks' virtues and talents. She had even opened up a 'MySpace' account for him called 'Cuteshanks' and wouldn't you know it? He had over 100,000 'friends' (a feat which not many humans had accomplished!). While Harry attempted to explain to a skeptical Ron that 'MySpace' wasn't a cult and friends weren't really, well, friends, Hermione had started talking about how Crookshanks was just the right age to settle down. And he had also found feminine companionship!
"He must've been courting!" said Hermione fondly, "Look here! Two sets of paw prints!"
By this time they had managed to track the paw prints into the castle towards a large empty classroom, which they recognized as their Transfiguration class. All kinds of feline squeals and meows and purrs seemed to be emanating from behind the closed door.
Fervently praying that Professor McGonagall wouldn't catch them loitering around and that Crookshanks wasn't ahem getting familiar with his companion, they pushed open the door.
On the floor before them they could see Crookshanks rolling around with a grey cat, chasing a ball of wool. The cats appeared to be in the greatest of humor, gamboling, and purring without restraint. Hermione was just muttering something about regretting not having her Polaroid camera to upload a quick picture on MySpace when the grey cat turned to face them and seemed to freeze.
Too late, they saw that she had a pair of distinctive markings around her eyes. All at once, the grey cat was no longer a cat, but their scary Transfiguration Professor brushing ginger fur off her robes.
"Ahem, I trust you three won't be mentioning this, urrmm, incident to anyone? Crookshanks and I were just playing, you can carry him back Miss Granger, he is certainly an animal beyond compare. We've become the best of friends," and saying so she deposited a squirming Crookshanks into Hermione's arms, quickly herded the trio out of the room, and shut the door in their faces.
"Wait, so Crookshanks and Professor McGonagall are now friends?" Ron turned to look at a bright-red Hermione.
Hermione seemed to be rendered speechless. She made a few gasping noises but subsided to bury her face in her hands.
"What's wrong Hermione, cat got your tongue?" and with this statement, Harry and Ron burst into laughter.