The Way of the Squib
a Harry Potter fan-fic
by Ozma
a sequel to "Squib Wizard"
Chapter 5: Terra Incognita
"Oh, honestly!" Hermione Granger exclaimed. "The nonsense that woman comes up with!"
"That `woman' happens to be a Professor. You shouldn't speak of her that way. It's
disrespectful." I tried to sound stern, but my voice quivered.
"Professor Trelawney speaks in vague generalities! She leaves most of the real work to her
listeners' imaginations, Mr. Filch," Hermione said. "I wouldn't worry about anything she says she saw in
your tea leaves."
"But, she told me that the thing I feared would happen! Before the start of summer!" I said,
miserably.
It wasn't the damp chill of the corridor outside Professor Snape's Potions classroom that made
me shiver. It was the memory of the grave, knowing expression in Sibyll Trelawney's magnified eyes.
These days I often felt as if the familiar Castle corridors had shifted into strange new pathways,
leaving me lost and vulnerable. There was no use trying to hide the fact that the Divination Professor had
scared me.
I'd been in the dungeon corridor on my way back to my office when the Gryffindors and the
Slytherins had come out of Potions, their last class of the day. Hermione had seen the frightened look on
my face. She'd immediately stopped to ask me what was wrong.
I'd found myself telling her and Harry Potter and Ron Weasley about my afternoon spent making
repairs in Sibyll Trelawney's attic classroom.
Not long ago a conversation like this, with a group of students, would have been impossible for
me to imagine.
All changes, even changes for the better, can be a little frightening.
And a greater, truly frightening change was coming. Mrs. Norris, my sweet cat, was to become a
mother. Hermione's ginger tom, Crookshanks, was the kittens' father. Cats do not seem to spend an
inordinate amount of time brooding about the past or worrying about the future, but humans do. I was
worrying enough for everyone.
Mrs. Norris had known the joys and sorrows of motherhood before. She'd lost one of her kittens.
It was a pain that I'd hoped she'd never have to endure again.
*******
Hermione's response to the news of Crookshanks' impending fatherhood had been typical for
her. She'd come up to me, at breakfast in the great hall yesterday morning, with several books in her
arms.
"Have you circled today on your calendar, Mr. Filch?" she asked me, in a business-like way after
a polite "good morning."
"W-what?" I'd stammered.
"Most mother cats deliver their kittens between sixty-four and sixty-six days after breeding,"
Hermione had said, as if the answer was obvious.
"Of course, most female cats require more breedings within a twenty four hour period in order for
ovulation to occur, so we can't be sure if conception has actually taken place yet. Though I haven't seen
Crookshanks this morning. I'm assuming that he's still with Mrs. Norris. So, if we start counting from
today..."
I'd slid my barely-touched breakfast aside and stared blearily at her.
As usual, Hermione had been accompanied by Harry and Ron. Harry was looking apologetically
at me, and Ron was munching on a piece of toast.
"I've told Hermione about what happened at detention last night," Harry had said, when
Hermione stopped to breathe.
"She's awfully excited about being a `gran.'" Ron had added with a laugh, nearly choking on his
toast.
Hermione had put most of her books down on the staff table, next to my breakfast, so she could
leaf through the largest one. I read the title. It was "The Care and Feeding of Wizards' Familiars,
Volume One: The Cat."
"It's never too soon to start thinking about a nesting box..." Hermione had said. "There are some
illustrations in here that are quite good. Unless you still have one from last time? Harry told me that it was
years ago."
"No." I'd answered, softly. "I didn't keep anything. Mrs. Norris will need a new nesting box."
Beaming, Hermione had started showing me the pictures.
I had to admit that it was a comfort to have another human who cared as much for the kittens'
safety and welfare as I did.
*******
"Nothing is going to happen to these kittens," Hermione told me now, firmly. "They'll be well
protected with you, me, Mrs. Norris and Crookshanks looking after them."
I was still upset, and must have looked it.
Hermione actually took one of my knobbly, scratched up hands in hers and gave it a comforting
pat.
"Professor Trelawney simply enjoys frightening people out of their wits," she said, soothingly.
"Not a very nice thank you for fixing those squeaky trap door hinges of hers, was it!"
"It's true!" Ron said, "Professor Trelawny's nothing but a right old fraud, and she does love to
scare people."
"She's like a boggart, with great big glasses! She gives a few threatening hints in that misty voice
of hers and your own mind does the rest. It's all rubbish. Harry and I used to make up our Divination
homework most of the time. Tell him, Harry."
Potter's green eyes were serious. "How did Professor Trelawney sound when she made her
prediction?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. Mysterious and omniscient. Like she always sounds."
The boy relaxed. "I wouldn't worry then. But, the next time she offers you a cup of tea, you
should just say `no, thanks!'"
He was right.
"A quiet cuppa with Trelawney is far more dangerous than a few drinks with Hagrid..." I
muttered. "I should have known better."
My heart was still pounding, though.
Ron's freckled face was full of mischief. "She probably doesn't even know about Mrs. Norris and
Crookshanks. Maybe she just wanted you to think that someone else was going to play a game of
"Corridor-Quidditch" during detention!"
"Using cats for Bludgers, the Quaffle and the Snitch!" Harry added, grinning.
"And that Professor McGonagall would find out, blame you, and claw you to bloody ribbons
again!" Ron concluded.
Both boys snickered.
Hermione rolled her eyes at them, and I glared.
"But, that's what happened Saturday night," Harry said, innocently. "Haven't you heard the
rumors?"
"That's just one of the stories," Ron said. "I like the version where Harry and Colin used hover
charms to fly around on your mops, and chased cats around the Castle."
I glowered even more.
The boys seemed satisfied that they'd returned me to my proper mental state.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor, for loitering in the corridor and making noise outside my
classroom!"
Professor Snape was standing in his classroom doorway, looking more sour than usual and rather
tired.
For once, he didn't favor Harry with his most threatening sneer. That honor was reserved for
Hermione and me.
"I might have known it would be the two of you!" Snape said, coldly. "You're as bad as those
wretched animals of yours."
"Have you seen Crookshanks and Mrs. Norris, Professor?" Hermione asked. "We've haven't seen
them since Saturday."
"Seen them?" Snape shuddered. "No. Heard them? Yes, unfortunately. For most of the past two
nights in fact! They are usually somewhere in the corridor, outside my rooms."
" Cursed caterwauling copulating machines..." he snarled, under his breath.
This was too much for Harry and Ron. Both boys were turning beet red, with stifled laughter.
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Twenty more points from Gryffindor."
"Please, Professor. We're waiting for Neville..." Hermione said.
"Don't bother. Mr. Longbottom will be awhile," Severus said, unpleasantly. "He believes that he
can actually salvage his cauldron. Don't expect to see him at dinner. He may be here all night."
His sneer dissolved into a yawn.
"What happened to Neville's cauldron?" I asked Hermione, Harry and Ron.
"You don't want to know..." Ron said. "But, at least he didn't turn everyone purple this time."
"Filch!" Snape snarled at me. "Where do you think you're going?"
"To help Neville clean his cauldron, Professor," I said. "You don't *really* want him in your
classroom all night, do you?"
*******
Severus locked up his classroom, and swept off down the hallway, hopefully to have a badly-
needed nap before dinner.
I went with the four children to my nearest broom cupboard. Neville was carrying his cauldron,
which was covered with a thick coating of burnt-on slime.
First the children all tried scouring charms, which removed a lot of the mess. Then I began
scrubbing.
"Mr. Filch...?" Neville said, miserably, "do you think it's possible for someone to actually turn
into a Squib?"
"No."
"How can you be sure?" Neville asked me, sadly.
"I can't be positive. But it doesn't seem likely. I was born a Squib, and I've stayed one. You were
born a wizard, even if your magic showed up late. Muggles stay Muggles, don't they? We are what we are,
all of us."
"But maybe I was a Squib. Remember, my great Uncle Algie...?"
"If you weren't a Wizard, you probably would have died when he dropped you." I said, gruffly.
"The things that people say will cure a Squib won't work on a true Squib. You can't put magic into
someone by drowning them, or beating them, or locking them in a cupboard."
Harry had a wry smile on his face. "Or take it out, either..." I thought I heard him murmur, very
softly. But I might have been mistaken. It didn't make sense. Why would anyone who had magic ever
want to take it out?
When Harry saw that my arm was getting tired he reached out for the cauldron. I handed it to
him, expecting him to use a scouring charm. To my surprise, he reached for my scrubber as well, and
began to clean like a Muggle.
He, Hermione and Ron were all looking at Neville. I had the feeling that each of them had tried,
without much success, to reassure Neville that he wasn't a Squib.
"Remember, Neville?" Harry said. "Your family was so relieved when you got your Hogwarts
letter? They must have known what it meant."
"Some wizards do fail," I said. "Apollyon Pringle, who trained me to be caretaker after him, had
failed here. And, some wizards get expelled and their wands get snapped. But they remain wizards.
Forbidding them to use their magic wouldn't be necessary, if they had none to use, would it? You're a
wizard, Neville. You always will be. An owl brought you a Hogwarts letter on your eleventh birthday. You
went into Ollivanders, and you were chosen by a wand. Neither of those things ever happened to me.
Trust me. You're not a Squib."
I felt eyes on me. Turning I saw Ron studying me, thoughtfully. He could understand better than
Muggle-born Hermione, Muggle-raised Harry, or even Neville, who was still caught up in his own woes,
what it meant not to get a Hogwarts letter when everyone in your family had gotten one for a thousand
years.
"What house were your parents in, Mr. Filch?" Ron asked.
I blinked. No one had ever asked me that question before. I had to think about the answer. My
parents had barely mentioned their school days when I was older. But I remembered them speaking of
Hogwarts when I was quite small. They must have known, long before I'd turned eleven, that I would
never be normal.
"They were in different houses." I murmured. "Mum was in Ravenclaw. Dad was in Hufflepuff."
Harry looked like his arms were getting tired now. I reached for Neville's cauldron and the
brush. He gave them back.
Hermione sighed. "There must be books with answers to questions like why Squibs are Squibs,
and why Muggles, like my Mum and Dad, or Colin and Dennis's Mum and Dad, can have wizard
children," she said.
I shook my head. "I never found a book with those answers. My Mum searched though. For most
of her life, she did. And she never found an answer. "
Hermione looked sad, then she looked resolute. "But, maybe there's an answer now," she said.
I smiled at her wryly. "You're always welcome to look."
*******
Hagrid treats the students that he befriends to tea and rock cakes. I sit with them in dingy,
dungeon corridors and scrub cauldrons.
Oh, well. Each of us has to find our own way of doing things, right? I'm new at this.
Between the five of us, we were able to salvage Neville's cauldron. Which saved him the trouble
of owling his Grandmother for a new one.
The three boys went to take Neville's cauldron up to Gryffindor tower before dinner.
Hermione said that she'd see them in the great hall.
She and I walked together through the labyrinth dungeon corridors.
"Crookshanks... are you here?"
"Mrs. Norris... where are you, my sweet?"
We found the pair of cats together, near Professor Snape's rooms. Fortunately, they were no
longer yowling. Instead, they were curled up, side by side, dusty grey fur against fluffy ginger fur, both
purring joyously.
"She's definitely not in heat any more," Hermione said. "She must be pregnant!"
The cats were quite glad to see us. Crookshanks prowled towards Hermione, looking extremely
pleased with himself.
Mrs. Norris padded towards me softly and rubbed against my ankles.
I picked her up, stroking her familiar, bony body, soon to grow round and heavy.
Change is frightening, but it always comes, whether we wish it or not. My sweet one was purring
so contentedly that I couldn't begrudge her the risk she was taking.
END OF CHAPTER FIVE
*******
Author's Notes:
My cat is "fixed" so I had to get the information on cat-breeding and gestation off the net. I apologize for
any mistakes.
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Yes, exactly! Filch is afraid to let Mrs. Norris have kittens because he had his
heart broken, though he denies it. ("I'm not like Hagrid. Not a BIT. The idea is absurd!") I didn't show
Hermione getting the news from Harry, because he told her in the Gryffindor common room, and Filch
wasn't there.
Re Rita Skeeter: I really do think she'd have been happier in Slytherin. My reasons for not saying
"Slytherin" right away were purely emotional, not logical. But that doesn't mean she's not smart.
Slytherins (most of them, probably) are highly intelligent. If all the really smart people had to be in
Ravenclaw, Hermione would probably be there too.
Keep up the speed? I hope I can, but I'm not sure I can. I need to sleep eventually. And clean the house
and do laundry...
That's a good thought about poor Harry having nightmares. That'd be an excellent reason for him to
suggest a night-time flying lesson for Colin!
When it comes to picking up hints about Harry's situation at the Dursleys' color Filch "Clueless." He
missed another hint this chapter.
Danalas: Thank you!! I don't think I've seen "ROFLHAOWNCOGUTC" before... what does it mean?
Thanks for the Lightsabers and the Peaches!!
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! Yes, Filch is going to be very protective of the kittens. Especially now that
Trelawney has scared him out of his wits. I love your description of the "scary floofy grey cats." It made
me laugh.
Rabbit: Thank you!! I would guess that wizards must use magic to fix their familiars. There must be lots
of different ways to do it, depending on the individual wizard's specialty. Flitwick would use a Charm, of
course. And someone like Snape would probably use a potion. It was hard to picture any wizard using
anything similar to crude "Muggle" methods. Yes, exactly! Filch should have asked Flitwick to take the
Charm off long before it actually wore off.
An article about kitten clones? No, I didn't see it...
Not sure about how many kittens yet. Not as many as five (the number in her last litter, when one died.) I
think the number of kittens in a litter tends to decrease with the mother's age.
Elspeth: Thank you!! "Smart and somewhat ill-tempered" sounds like a perfect description of the kittens'
parents, and it's safe to say that Crookshanks and Mrs. Norris will breed true.
Filch is very worried about losing a kitten. He wishes he'd never had tea with Professor Trelawney.
Your description of Professor Binns is perfect!
Yes, Peeves loves Filch's reactions to his mischief. It's half the fun!
Alchemine: Thank you!! Harry's got to have quick reflexes... he's the Seeker!
Ouch! Rubbing Alcohol! God, that must have hurt, even worse than iodine! (Filch is lucky that I didn't
read about your mother's methods before I wrote that chapter, or he would have been screaming even
louder.)
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! Yes, the noise disturbed people in the Castle. Most of the ghosts were aware
of what was going on. And a lot of people heard the cats. All the rumors about what happened include the
cats.
UnrepentantReader: Thank you!!
Lataradk: Thank you!! Yes, Minerva could have used something less painful than iodine, but she knows
Filch, and his tendency to beat himself up, plus she was more than a bit angry at him for endangering her
"cubs" so recklessly. She wanted to "teach" him the error of his ways.
As of yet, the rumor that Harry and Colin were flying brooms in the Castle, with Filch's PERMISSION is
considered the wildest rumor of all. Though the truth may come out, eventually.
Gramarye: Thank you!! Hermione is glad that Crookshanks didn't get Stunned. Harry and Colin didn't
want to get her mad at them, so they weren't trying to hit him.
RioRaptor & Shadow: Thank you!! And Thank you!! I'm still not sure what The Baron did to punish
Peeves. I don't think I want to know...
a Harry Potter fan-fic
by Ozma
a sequel to "Squib Wizard"
Chapter 5: Terra Incognita
"Oh, honestly!" Hermione Granger exclaimed. "The nonsense that woman comes up with!"
"That `woman' happens to be a Professor. You shouldn't speak of her that way. It's
disrespectful." I tried to sound stern, but my voice quivered.
"Professor Trelawney speaks in vague generalities! She leaves most of the real work to her
listeners' imaginations, Mr. Filch," Hermione said. "I wouldn't worry about anything she says she saw in
your tea leaves."
"But, she told me that the thing I feared would happen! Before the start of summer!" I said,
miserably.
It wasn't the damp chill of the corridor outside Professor Snape's Potions classroom that made
me shiver. It was the memory of the grave, knowing expression in Sibyll Trelawney's magnified eyes.
These days I often felt as if the familiar Castle corridors had shifted into strange new pathways,
leaving me lost and vulnerable. There was no use trying to hide the fact that the Divination Professor had
scared me.
I'd been in the dungeon corridor on my way back to my office when the Gryffindors and the
Slytherins had come out of Potions, their last class of the day. Hermione had seen the frightened look on
my face. She'd immediately stopped to ask me what was wrong.
I'd found myself telling her and Harry Potter and Ron Weasley about my afternoon spent making
repairs in Sibyll Trelawney's attic classroom.
Not long ago a conversation like this, with a group of students, would have been impossible for
me to imagine.
All changes, even changes for the better, can be a little frightening.
And a greater, truly frightening change was coming. Mrs. Norris, my sweet cat, was to become a
mother. Hermione's ginger tom, Crookshanks, was the kittens' father. Cats do not seem to spend an
inordinate amount of time brooding about the past or worrying about the future, but humans do. I was
worrying enough for everyone.
Mrs. Norris had known the joys and sorrows of motherhood before. She'd lost one of her kittens.
It was a pain that I'd hoped she'd never have to endure again.
*******
Hermione's response to the news of Crookshanks' impending fatherhood had been typical for
her. She'd come up to me, at breakfast in the great hall yesterday morning, with several books in her
arms.
"Have you circled today on your calendar, Mr. Filch?" she asked me, in a business-like way after
a polite "good morning."
"W-what?" I'd stammered.
"Most mother cats deliver their kittens between sixty-four and sixty-six days after breeding,"
Hermione had said, as if the answer was obvious.
"Of course, most female cats require more breedings within a twenty four hour period in order for
ovulation to occur, so we can't be sure if conception has actually taken place yet. Though I haven't seen
Crookshanks this morning. I'm assuming that he's still with Mrs. Norris. So, if we start counting from
today..."
I'd slid my barely-touched breakfast aside and stared blearily at her.
As usual, Hermione had been accompanied by Harry and Ron. Harry was looking apologetically
at me, and Ron was munching on a piece of toast.
"I've told Hermione about what happened at detention last night," Harry had said, when
Hermione stopped to breathe.
"She's awfully excited about being a `gran.'" Ron had added with a laugh, nearly choking on his
toast.
Hermione had put most of her books down on the staff table, next to my breakfast, so she could
leaf through the largest one. I read the title. It was "The Care and Feeding of Wizards' Familiars,
Volume One: The Cat."
"It's never too soon to start thinking about a nesting box..." Hermione had said. "There are some
illustrations in here that are quite good. Unless you still have one from last time? Harry told me that it was
years ago."
"No." I'd answered, softly. "I didn't keep anything. Mrs. Norris will need a new nesting box."
Beaming, Hermione had started showing me the pictures.
I had to admit that it was a comfort to have another human who cared as much for the kittens'
safety and welfare as I did.
*******
"Nothing is going to happen to these kittens," Hermione told me now, firmly. "They'll be well
protected with you, me, Mrs. Norris and Crookshanks looking after them."
I was still upset, and must have looked it.
Hermione actually took one of my knobbly, scratched up hands in hers and gave it a comforting
pat.
"Professor Trelawney simply enjoys frightening people out of their wits," she said, soothingly.
"Not a very nice thank you for fixing those squeaky trap door hinges of hers, was it!"
"It's true!" Ron said, "Professor Trelawny's nothing but a right old fraud, and she does love to
scare people."
"She's like a boggart, with great big glasses! She gives a few threatening hints in that misty voice
of hers and your own mind does the rest. It's all rubbish. Harry and I used to make up our Divination
homework most of the time. Tell him, Harry."
Potter's green eyes were serious. "How did Professor Trelawney sound when she made her
prediction?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. Mysterious and omniscient. Like she always sounds."
The boy relaxed. "I wouldn't worry then. But, the next time she offers you a cup of tea, you
should just say `no, thanks!'"
He was right.
"A quiet cuppa with Trelawney is far more dangerous than a few drinks with Hagrid..." I
muttered. "I should have known better."
My heart was still pounding, though.
Ron's freckled face was full of mischief. "She probably doesn't even know about Mrs. Norris and
Crookshanks. Maybe she just wanted you to think that someone else was going to play a game of
"Corridor-Quidditch" during detention!"
"Using cats for Bludgers, the Quaffle and the Snitch!" Harry added, grinning.
"And that Professor McGonagall would find out, blame you, and claw you to bloody ribbons
again!" Ron concluded.
Both boys snickered.
Hermione rolled her eyes at them, and I glared.
"But, that's what happened Saturday night," Harry said, innocently. "Haven't you heard the
rumors?"
"That's just one of the stories," Ron said. "I like the version where Harry and Colin used hover
charms to fly around on your mops, and chased cats around the Castle."
I glowered even more.
The boys seemed satisfied that they'd returned me to my proper mental state.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor, for loitering in the corridor and making noise outside my
classroom!"
Professor Snape was standing in his classroom doorway, looking more sour than usual and rather
tired.
For once, he didn't favor Harry with his most threatening sneer. That honor was reserved for
Hermione and me.
"I might have known it would be the two of you!" Snape said, coldly. "You're as bad as those
wretched animals of yours."
"Have you seen Crookshanks and Mrs. Norris, Professor?" Hermione asked. "We've haven't seen
them since Saturday."
"Seen them?" Snape shuddered. "No. Heard them? Yes, unfortunately. For most of the past two
nights in fact! They are usually somewhere in the corridor, outside my rooms."
" Cursed caterwauling copulating machines..." he snarled, under his breath.
This was too much for Harry and Ron. Both boys were turning beet red, with stifled laughter.
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Twenty more points from Gryffindor."
"Please, Professor. We're waiting for Neville..." Hermione said.
"Don't bother. Mr. Longbottom will be awhile," Severus said, unpleasantly. "He believes that he
can actually salvage his cauldron. Don't expect to see him at dinner. He may be here all night."
His sneer dissolved into a yawn.
"What happened to Neville's cauldron?" I asked Hermione, Harry and Ron.
"You don't want to know..." Ron said. "But, at least he didn't turn everyone purple this time."
"Filch!" Snape snarled at me. "Where do you think you're going?"
"To help Neville clean his cauldron, Professor," I said. "You don't *really* want him in your
classroom all night, do you?"
*******
Severus locked up his classroom, and swept off down the hallway, hopefully to have a badly-
needed nap before dinner.
I went with the four children to my nearest broom cupboard. Neville was carrying his cauldron,
which was covered with a thick coating of burnt-on slime.
First the children all tried scouring charms, which removed a lot of the mess. Then I began
scrubbing.
"Mr. Filch...?" Neville said, miserably, "do you think it's possible for someone to actually turn
into a Squib?"
"No."
"How can you be sure?" Neville asked me, sadly.
"I can't be positive. But it doesn't seem likely. I was born a Squib, and I've stayed one. You were
born a wizard, even if your magic showed up late. Muggles stay Muggles, don't they? We are what we are,
all of us."
"But maybe I was a Squib. Remember, my great Uncle Algie...?"
"If you weren't a Wizard, you probably would have died when he dropped you." I said, gruffly.
"The things that people say will cure a Squib won't work on a true Squib. You can't put magic into
someone by drowning them, or beating them, or locking them in a cupboard."
Harry had a wry smile on his face. "Or take it out, either..." I thought I heard him murmur, very
softly. But I might have been mistaken. It didn't make sense. Why would anyone who had magic ever
want to take it out?
When Harry saw that my arm was getting tired he reached out for the cauldron. I handed it to
him, expecting him to use a scouring charm. To my surprise, he reached for my scrubber as well, and
began to clean like a Muggle.
He, Hermione and Ron were all looking at Neville. I had the feeling that each of them had tried,
without much success, to reassure Neville that he wasn't a Squib.
"Remember, Neville?" Harry said. "Your family was so relieved when you got your Hogwarts
letter? They must have known what it meant."
"Some wizards do fail," I said. "Apollyon Pringle, who trained me to be caretaker after him, had
failed here. And, some wizards get expelled and their wands get snapped. But they remain wizards.
Forbidding them to use their magic wouldn't be necessary, if they had none to use, would it? You're a
wizard, Neville. You always will be. An owl brought you a Hogwarts letter on your eleventh birthday. You
went into Ollivanders, and you were chosen by a wand. Neither of those things ever happened to me.
Trust me. You're not a Squib."
I felt eyes on me. Turning I saw Ron studying me, thoughtfully. He could understand better than
Muggle-born Hermione, Muggle-raised Harry, or even Neville, who was still caught up in his own woes,
what it meant not to get a Hogwarts letter when everyone in your family had gotten one for a thousand
years.
"What house were your parents in, Mr. Filch?" Ron asked.
I blinked. No one had ever asked me that question before. I had to think about the answer. My
parents had barely mentioned their school days when I was older. But I remembered them speaking of
Hogwarts when I was quite small. They must have known, long before I'd turned eleven, that I would
never be normal.
"They were in different houses." I murmured. "Mum was in Ravenclaw. Dad was in Hufflepuff."
Harry looked like his arms were getting tired now. I reached for Neville's cauldron and the
brush. He gave them back.
Hermione sighed. "There must be books with answers to questions like why Squibs are Squibs,
and why Muggles, like my Mum and Dad, or Colin and Dennis's Mum and Dad, can have wizard
children," she said.
I shook my head. "I never found a book with those answers. My Mum searched though. For most
of her life, she did. And she never found an answer. "
Hermione looked sad, then she looked resolute. "But, maybe there's an answer now," she said.
I smiled at her wryly. "You're always welcome to look."
*******
Hagrid treats the students that he befriends to tea and rock cakes. I sit with them in dingy,
dungeon corridors and scrub cauldrons.
Oh, well. Each of us has to find our own way of doing things, right? I'm new at this.
Between the five of us, we were able to salvage Neville's cauldron. Which saved him the trouble
of owling his Grandmother for a new one.
The three boys went to take Neville's cauldron up to Gryffindor tower before dinner.
Hermione said that she'd see them in the great hall.
She and I walked together through the labyrinth dungeon corridors.
"Crookshanks... are you here?"
"Mrs. Norris... where are you, my sweet?"
We found the pair of cats together, near Professor Snape's rooms. Fortunately, they were no
longer yowling. Instead, they were curled up, side by side, dusty grey fur against fluffy ginger fur, both
purring joyously.
"She's definitely not in heat any more," Hermione said. "She must be pregnant!"
The cats were quite glad to see us. Crookshanks prowled towards Hermione, looking extremely
pleased with himself.
Mrs. Norris padded towards me softly and rubbed against my ankles.
I picked her up, stroking her familiar, bony body, soon to grow round and heavy.
Change is frightening, but it always comes, whether we wish it or not. My sweet one was purring
so contentedly that I couldn't begrudge her the risk she was taking.
END OF CHAPTER FIVE
*******
Author's Notes:
My cat is "fixed" so I had to get the information on cat-breeding and gestation off the net. I apologize for
any mistakes.
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Yes, exactly! Filch is afraid to let Mrs. Norris have kittens because he had his
heart broken, though he denies it. ("I'm not like Hagrid. Not a BIT. The idea is absurd!") I didn't show
Hermione getting the news from Harry, because he told her in the Gryffindor common room, and Filch
wasn't there.
Re Rita Skeeter: I really do think she'd have been happier in Slytherin. My reasons for not saying
"Slytherin" right away were purely emotional, not logical. But that doesn't mean she's not smart.
Slytherins (most of them, probably) are highly intelligent. If all the really smart people had to be in
Ravenclaw, Hermione would probably be there too.
Keep up the speed? I hope I can, but I'm not sure I can. I need to sleep eventually. And clean the house
and do laundry...
That's a good thought about poor Harry having nightmares. That'd be an excellent reason for him to
suggest a night-time flying lesson for Colin!
When it comes to picking up hints about Harry's situation at the Dursleys' color Filch "Clueless." He
missed another hint this chapter.
Danalas: Thank you!! I don't think I've seen "ROFLHAOWNCOGUTC" before... what does it mean?
Thanks for the Lightsabers and the Peaches!!
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! Yes, Filch is going to be very protective of the kittens. Especially now that
Trelawney has scared him out of his wits. I love your description of the "scary floofy grey cats." It made
me laugh.
Rabbit: Thank you!! I would guess that wizards must use magic to fix their familiars. There must be lots
of different ways to do it, depending on the individual wizard's specialty. Flitwick would use a Charm, of
course. And someone like Snape would probably use a potion. It was hard to picture any wizard using
anything similar to crude "Muggle" methods. Yes, exactly! Filch should have asked Flitwick to take the
Charm off long before it actually wore off.
An article about kitten clones? No, I didn't see it...
Not sure about how many kittens yet. Not as many as five (the number in her last litter, when one died.) I
think the number of kittens in a litter tends to decrease with the mother's age.
Elspeth: Thank you!! "Smart and somewhat ill-tempered" sounds like a perfect description of the kittens'
parents, and it's safe to say that Crookshanks and Mrs. Norris will breed true.
Filch is very worried about losing a kitten. He wishes he'd never had tea with Professor Trelawney.
Your description of Professor Binns is perfect!
Yes, Peeves loves Filch's reactions to his mischief. It's half the fun!
Alchemine: Thank you!! Harry's got to have quick reflexes... he's the Seeker!
Ouch! Rubbing Alcohol! God, that must have hurt, even worse than iodine! (Filch is lucky that I didn't
read about your mother's methods before I wrote that chapter, or he would have been screaming even
louder.)
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! Yes, the noise disturbed people in the Castle. Most of the ghosts were aware
of what was going on. And a lot of people heard the cats. All the rumors about what happened include the
cats.
UnrepentantReader: Thank you!!
Lataradk: Thank you!! Yes, Minerva could have used something less painful than iodine, but she knows
Filch, and his tendency to beat himself up, plus she was more than a bit angry at him for endangering her
"cubs" so recklessly. She wanted to "teach" him the error of his ways.
As of yet, the rumor that Harry and Colin were flying brooms in the Castle, with Filch's PERMISSION is
considered the wildest rumor of all. Though the truth may come out, eventually.
Gramarye: Thank you!! Hermione is glad that Crookshanks didn't get Stunned. Harry and Colin didn't
want to get her mad at them, so they weren't trying to hit him.
RioRaptor & Shadow: Thank you!! And Thank you!! I'm still not sure what The Baron did to punish
Peeves. I don't think I want to know...