Chapter Forty – Cat and Rat

As the days went by and Mrs. Zabini remained silent on the subject of Hogsmeade, Harry began to despair of even their annual trip to Diagon Alley. But luck was in his favor, and descending to breakfast one morning, he found Mrs. Zabini already awake and looking refreshed, holding each of their school supply lists in her hand.

"I won't have the three of you cooped up all summer," she said brightly, "Fudge can't keep us under house arrest."

Harry wasn't the only one delighted to hear of the proposed trip. He, Millie, and Blaise had already exhausted gobstones, exploding snap, and wizards' chess. Even playing outside with the dog had lost its novelty. A change of scenery was exactly what they needed.

Mrs. Zabini passed their lists to them while they hastily gobbled their breakfasts. Harry poured over his, planning the path he would need to take through Diagon Alley to collect the long list of supplies.

"A runic stone set? Where am I supposed to get those? I didn't think anyone used them anymore," Millie complained, scanning over her list.

"What did you expect when you signed up for a class called Ancient Runes?" Blaise asked, leaning over so he could read Millie's list, "Honestly, what were you thinking?"

Harry stomach lurched uncomfortably, and he read over his own list of supplies again.

"I don't see runes on my list," he said with a hasty glance up at his friends, "We're not in the same class?"

Millie rolled her eyes. "I think you'd remember what classes you signed up for, Harry."

Due to the chaotic events of the previous year, Harry had been left to select his third-year electives without consulting either of his friends. Blaise had been pulled from school by Mrs. Zabini just before they'd been given the course list, while Millie had been reserved and distant, having been secretly possessed. Harry had been so distracted by her kidnapping and ultimate rescue, he barely remembered signing up for classes at all, much less what he'd selected.

"Let me see your lists!" Harry demanded, snatching the forms from Blaise and Millie. He was horrified to discover that of the two new classes third years were required to take, he and his friends shared only one in common – Care of Magical Creatures. He would have one class entirely to himself.

"Muggle Studies," he said, throwing Blaise's supply list back into his face, "What would you want to take Muggle Studies for? I could teach you everything you wanted to know!"

"Two things, Harry," said Blaise simply, "Cars and telephones. I said the muggles had finally gotten something right, didn't I? And there's lots of positions I could get in the Ministry with even basic knowledge of muggle culture. Most wizards are hopeless when it comes to technology, and I plan to be a step ahead of the game."

"More like you think you can turn a profit hawking muggle goods as some sort of toy," Millie retorted, "And for your information, Ancient Runes can be just as useful."

Blaise tilted his head back and mimicked the sound of loud, bored snoring until Millie stuffed a whole scone into his mouth.

With Torsh at the wheel, steering them on at impossible speeds, they made it to London in record time. Harry was beginning to suspect that Torsh was their driver not only for the convenience of Mrs. Zabini, but thanks to the house elf's powerful magic.

Mrs. Zabini planned to visit the salon before first and foremost. Harry had an interesting visit there only last summer, though he was not anxious to repeat the experience. The witch who had attempted to style his hair had nearly cried when she saw how unmanageable it was, and he ended up with a very underwhelming trim. Mrs. Zabini had started to complain about the length of his hair again, and even threatened to have Torsh give him a cut if he didn't agree to join her. But Millie looked positively terrified at the mention of a salon, and she tugged at the sleeve of Harry's shirt, meeting his curious eye with a stern expression.

"Er, Mrs. Zabini?" he asked, "Do you think we could sit this one out? I mean, I need to visit Gringotts anyway, and it will save time..."

Mrs. Zabini looked doubtful. Every window of Diagon Alley had been plastered with wanted posters of Sirius Black's mad, screaming face. It was a rather unwelcome reminder for his guardian of the danger that Harry was in.

But the posters also helped to strengthen Blaise's argument as he began to support Harry's request, "C'mon, mum. The every wizard in Great Britain is on the lookout for Black. He wouldn't dare attack Harry in the middle of Diagon Alley."

Mrs. Zabini cast one look around the posters and the crowded streets.

"Alright," she said, "But stay together. And no wandering off the main road. I want you to check in every hour to let me know where you are. Blaise, you know where I'll be."

Harry wondered exactly how long she expected to remain at the salon, and he was suddenly very grateful to Millie for her reluctance. He didn't think he could handle several hours in a barber's chair, listening to an irate witch complain about his hair.

Their trip to Gringotts, the bank run entirely by goblins, was over quickly. Harry was sure to pack his money bag with plenty of gleaming gold galleons, shining silver sickles, and tiny bronze knuts to purchase his school necessities and – he hoped – any shopping he may want to do on future trips to Hogsmeade. The loose coins clanked around the bag noisily, as if begging to be spent, but he wasn't really tempted until they passed Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"Look, Harry," Blaise said, grabbing Harry's arm and arresting his progress toward Flourish and Blotts, "It's the newest racing broom. The Firebolt."

Harry's stomach did a backflip as he took in the broomstick. He had seen pictures of it featured in a Qudditch Quarterly, to which he had subscribed, but he hadn't imagined it to be so beautiful in person.

"With a broom like that, you could take Draco's spot on the Quidditch team this year," Blaise said with something like reverence as he inspected the broom.

Harry stared at the bright, polished handle and perfectly shaped bristles, and he couldn't help but agree. It was tempting to go in and ask for the broom's price, but he was sure it cost a small fortune. Harry had been left plenty of money by his parents when they died, but even he did not know the exact amount, or how long he could reasonably expect it to last. Besides, he had already accepted so much from Mrs. Zabini, including his own Nimbus 2000. He did not want to seem ungrateful by making himself more of a burden. His money would have to go toward school supplies, and nothing more.

Shaking his head at his own sense of responsibility, he reluctantly turned away from the store's window display, and continued with his friends on their way to the bookshop.

Blaise and Millie, with their longer legs, were as usual several steps ahead of Harry as they made their way down the street. As such, Blaise spotted them first. He came to an abrupt stop and let out a long groan.

"Oh no... Harry, can we go to the apothecary for potions ingredients instead?"

"Why?" asked Harry, pushing around Blaise to see what he'd spotted that had changed his mind.

It was Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom. They stood just outside of the bookshop, but it appeared that they hadn't completed their shopping yet. Neville held his toad, Trevor, in his hands, while Hermione embraced a large ginger cat, rather than her usual stack of heavy textbooks.

Harry understood Blaise's reluctance, but he didn't share his friend's antipathy toward the Gryffindor students. Hermione, despite being petrified, had contributed to the research that led them to exposing a giant basilisk hidden within the school. And Neville had proved himself as brave as any Gryffindor could wish when he ventured into the Forbidden Forest with Harry. He was happy to see these old companions, and thankful that Hermione looked up and met his eye before Blaise and Millie could drag him to another store.

"Harry!" she cried, obviously just as thrilled to see him. Blaise muttered a few choice expletives under his breath, but there was nothing to do but follow Harry as he advanced to meet the Gryffindors.

"Hello, Hermione. Neville." Harry said cordially. Neville nodded to him in a friendly way, but quickly lowered his gaze to his untied trainers rather than meet Blaise's cold stare. Harry stepped on his friend's toes with the heel of his shoe, a silent reminder to be nice.

"It's so good to see you," said Hermione, shifting her weight uneasily from one foot to another. Harry suspected she would have hugged him if she wasn't busy cradling her feline burden. "I've been so worried. How are you?"

Harry wasn't sure how to respond to her obvious concern. He could only think to offer her a careless smile and say, "I'm fine, thanks. But who's this?"

Hermione looked down at the cat with fondness. The cat looked up at her with indifference.

"His name is Crookshanks. I've only just gotten him. Isn't he gorgeous?"

"Er..."

It was lucky for Harry that Hermione was too blinded by her own attachment to notice his under-enthusiastic response. She had already turned to offer a bright smile to Millie, who returned her exuberance with a scowl.

"I've always liked cats. I hope Crookshanks and Mammon can be good friends!"

Millie took one look at Crookshanks' large, squashed-looking face and replied, "Not bloody likely."

The smile disappeared from Hermione's lips and she returned Millie's comment with a scowl of her own. Perhaps she would have fired off a retort at Millie's rudeness, had not Crookshanks suddenly launched himself out of her arms and fell, spitting and hissing, on the shoulders of someone who had just passed by.

The cat was so large, the unfortunate boy was knocked completely to the ground. Meanwhile, Crookshanks busied itself trying to claw its way into his clothes.

"Oi! Get this thing off me!" the boy started to scream as Hermione jumped to his aid, shouting at her cat to leave him alone.

Blaise and Millie burst into laughter as Hermione desperately tried to pull her cat away, but Harry was not laughing. The boy Crookshanks had attacked was Ron Weasley. Harry quickly joined Hermione, and somewhat roughly pulled Crookshanks away, earning a few scratches in the process.

Ron quickly scrambled to his feet, his face as red as his hair. He clutched his terrified rat, Scabbers, in his hands before quickly tucking him into the breast pocket of his shirt, keeping him out of sight. The rat had obviously been Crookshanks' target all along, but that didn't stop Ron from blaming Hermione for the attack.

"That crazy animal could have killed me!" he shouted as Harry tried to quiet his still laughing friends. "What do you think you're doing having it out in public like that?"

Hermione blushed as she quickly stuffed Crookshanks into a wicker carrier that she had bought for the purpose. The cat growled menacingly inside. Harry was tempted to sympathize with Hermione had kept the cat in the carrier in the first place, then they could have avoided the present confrontation.

"It's just a cat," Hermione said, "People have them out all the time."

"That's not a cat, it's more like a lion," said Ron, "You ought to take it back to whatever zoo you found it in."

"Cat's chase mice! It's not Crookshanks' fault! It's in his nature!"

"Crookshanks, is it? Well just make sure you keep it away from Scabbers!"

"I don't remember seeing rats on the list of approved pets," Harry interjected, seeing that Hermione looked to be on the point of tears, "What were they again?"

"Owl, cat, or toad," Millie recited, shooting Ron a dirty look.

Harry nodded, "Mind your own pet, Weasley. It's a miracle some other cat hasn't tried eating him yet."

"You're one to talk," Ron snapped back. He was glaring at Oroboros, who was rarely away from Blaise's side. The snake was coiled loosely around his neck, watching the conversation among the humans with quiet interest. "I don't remember seeing snakes on the list, either."

Blaise smirked at him, "The difference between our pets is that mine could eat yours."

Ron drew himself up and glared at Blaise, "This rat has been in my family for over ten years. If I catch your snake anywhere near him..."

"You'll do what?" Millie asked, daring him to complete the threat.

Blaise hissed a quiet command to Oroboros, who lifted her head and hissed menacingly at Ron.

Harry could sense that things were about to get out of hand if he let them progress any further. He muttered to both Millie and Blaise to give Ron a break.

"Remember how upset you were when something happened to Mammon?" Harry reminded Millie.

It was a low blow, since Millie had been petrified the cat herself last year, albeit under the influence of a cursed diary. But the warning did the trick, and his friends backed down.

"What are you doing with these guys anyway?" Ron asked Hermione and Neville, seeing that it would be unwise to test Harry's influence over his Slytherin companions, "Consorting with the enemy?"

"The enemy!" Hermione responded with a gasp, "How can you say that after Harry saved the school last year?"

"Is that what you call setting a basilisk on muggle-borns and blaming it on You-Know-Who?" Ron asked.

"That wasn't Harry!" Hermione argued, but it was clear that Ron didn't believe her. Harry suspected that nothing anyone could say or do would remove Ron's suspicious attitude toward him.

"It's okay, Hermione," Harry said, "Let him believe what he wants. It doesn't change anything."

Ron was clearly spoiling for a fight, but he was called away at that moment by his little sister, who shouted at him from several yards away. Ginny Weasley was looking at Harry with an open and curious stare, but seemed wary of venturing any closer.

Ron waved to signal that he was coming, then turned back to Harry.

"See you at Hogwarts Potter. If Sirius Black doesn't catch you before then."

This last waspish comment delivered, he turned a fled. Harry stood mute, baffled at the ill-will that could have inspired such a statement.

"What a loathsome, bad-tempered, little... Rat!" Hermione exclaimed once Ron was out of earshot. Harry had a feeling she was talking about the boy, and not Scabbers. "It's a wonder he has any friends at all! How could he say something so horrible to you, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "It's no big deal. I'm not worried about it."

Neville's eyes widened in surprise, "You mean... You're not worried about him?"

His gaze darted to the nearest wanted poster with such a look of dread, as if he expected Sirius Black to step out of the parchment and strangle Harry right there, Harry was tempted to laugh.

"Everyone has been talking about him," Hermione said, her voice dropping to a frightened whisper even though they stood in the bright sun on a busy street. "They even broadcast his escape on the muggle news. My parents know nothing about it, of course. They only said he'd escaped from prison, and was dangerous. They never said from where, or what for. It's lucky I have a subscription to the Daily Prophet, otherwise I might not have known anything until today!"

"I just wonder how he did it," Neville said with a shudder, "I mean, it's never been done before, has it? I've heard the Azkaban guards are terrifying, and yet he slipped right past them."

Harry knew very little about the conditions of Azakban, or the guards that patrolled its cells. But he remembered the look on Hagrid's face when he learned he'd be going there last year. Hagrid was a brave man, as far as Harry was concerned, and the fact that he had looked so scared set Harry on edge. He couldn't imagine what sort of place it might be, and it was harder to imagine the sort of man who could escape its walls without leaving a trace of how he did it behind.

If it was so easy for him to escape, how much easier would it be for him to break in? Harry found himself wondering about the protective spells they'd used on Mrs. Zabini's house, which was currently empty, and hoped it was enough.