A/N: As per request, Peeves makes another quest appearance.

I'm not a poet, so humor me and pretend my rhymes are decent. Most of them are taken from Shakespeare anyway.

Once more, Gingerhead thanks everyone who has reviewed. Your kind words mean a lot.

No house elves were permanently injured during the writing of this chapter.

CHAPTER 12: Through the dark watches of the night.

Severus Snape made his way through the dark Hogwarts hallways feeling old and tired. The evening had been a complete disaster. His colleagues' actions had proven that the cat was the least of their concerns. Having behaved worse than any of their students ever would, they had managed to finally put an end to their shameful behavior thanks to the Headmaster's ability to restrain his tongue and his wand. They had parted exchanging uneasy glances, since the words that had been spoken would linger on for long after this night had ended.

Gingerhead caught up with him and mewed to attract his attention.

"Shut up," he hissed. "This is all your fault."

The cat mewed again.

"No more food tonight. Argus had to be given a sedative potion to be able to cope with what you did to his cat, orange menace." He stared at Gingerhead thoughtfully. "On the other hand, better Mrs. Norris than Minerva. You've got some nerve, cat."

At that exact moment, Peeves flew in the scene.

Of course. "Get lost, Peeves. I'm not in the mood for your insults tonight," he spat.

"You were in the mood for McGonagall's insults, were you not?" The poltergeist danced around Snape's tired figure. "And why was I not invited to the party?"

"It was not a party, but a staff meeting,"

"Not what I heard, Snivellus," he cackled.

Snape scowled on hearing his accursed nickname. "Get lost, Peeves, before I call the Bloody Baron on you."

Unimpressed, the spectre continued his taunting. "And how is our dear Minerva tonight? Should you be spending some time with her as well, kitty?"

"Leave her alone. That blasted cat has seen enough action tonight," Snape was quick to reply. And regretted it the same instant.

"Is this so? Who was the lucky gal?" Seeing Snape's furious face, he chuckled. "Not Mrs. Norris? Oh, this is too good! I'm sure that my beloved Argus would need my consolation tonight, would he not?"

Snape rubbed his sore eyes. Having the cat on his trail was bad enough. Having the cat and the poltergeist was a nightmare.

"What's wrong, Snivellus? Missing some action for yourself? Too bad that those ladies back in London fled before you had a chance to nail them. Right, kitty?"

The Potion's Master looked up with feverish eyes. "How do you-" Then he stared at the cat, which was innocently washing his paw. He sighed. "Of course."

Peeves cackled again and began singing.

"Charcoal burn and cauldrons bubble,

The cat has got you in deep trouble!

Watch the logs to slowly burn,

And wait impatiently your turn.

Feel the itching on your bums?

Something horny this way comes!"

And then he burst in laughter as he danced around the Potions Master.

"Shut up, Peeves. Bloody Baron!" Of course, no sight of the ghost in question.

"I think I'll sing this in the Main Hall tomorrow. What do you think, kitty?"

Gingerhead mewed pathetically. And Snape knew perfectly well the meaning of the sound. It spelled "feed me."

"Merciful Merlin," he mumbled, "I could swear that this cat could eat a dragon all by himself."

Gingerhead's face perked up hopefully.

"Forget it," he hissed and turned his back to the poltergeist and the cat. "You two deserve each other, but I'm fed up with both of you. I'm going to bed and if either one of you dares to disturb my rest, you will dance to the tune of the Cruciatus curse."

Of course, neither Gingerhead nor Peeves seemed remotely impressed by his threat. The cat mewed questionably while Peeves' song accompanied him all the way to his chambers.

"Alone in bed you fall asleep,

Longing for something hot and cheap.

But I will come before you'll wake,

Your scrawny ass is mine to take!"

The Potions Master entered his dungeon and shut the door behind him with a loud bang, locking both the cat and the specter outside.

At last, some peace and quiet, he though wearily.

The depths of the castle would soon discover that this was hardly the case that night.

~*~

Gingerhead's POV.

"I'm hungry."

"You always are hungry, kitty," noted Peeves.

"You shouldn't scare my servant away. Now who will bring me my meals?"

"What about a raid in the kitchens?"

Gingerhead's tail began twitching. "A raid?"

"Why not? Only the house elves ever go there."

Now the cat was drooling. "House elves?"

Peeves giggled. "There's one thing I totally agree with old Snivellus, kitty. I'd like to see you against a dragon sometime."

The cat snarled. "Be my guest. As long as you find me an adequate frying pat." He jerked his head sideways and licked a lock of misbehaving fur back in line. "Now, which way to the kitchens?"

~*~

Snape disrobed and sat behind his desk, summoning a light supper and a bottle of strong wine. He ate in silence, savoring the much-needed private time. With his stomach full and the alcohol warming his bloodstream, he reached for his grimoire, searching for the recipe of the potion he planned on brewing tonight. Chewing on the last piece of his sandwich, he went through the list of ingredients.

Sage, for protection. Double that.

Wormwood, to open one's third eye. Check.

Fur, feathers or scales from the animal in question. Tons of it. Check.

Catnip, if the animal is a cat. Check the list below for other animals. Check. Providing the 'cat in question' did not spoil all of my stock.

Dragon scales, powdered. Check. I wonder why this was needed.

Toad legs, finally chopped. Check.

Spring water gathered at the full moon, seven drops. Check. I wonder if this would work with a certain werewolf as well.

The procedure seemed simple enough; for a Potions Master, that is. Snape picked up his wand and aimed at his cauldron across the room. A dart of fire sprung from the tip and the cauldron began to warm up.

He sat back, sipping his wine, enjoying the sound of the flames and the absence of mewing.

~*~

In the Hogwarts kitchen, the house elves screamed in horror as a huge ginger cat landed on the wooden table in the middle of the room, hissing, spitting and clawing. With eyes widened and gleaming with an eerie light, tail wagging, ears twitched backwards, the cat leaped from table to floor and from floor on cabinets, slashing through the air to nail his prey.

The terrified elves screamed and ran blindly inside the room, vanishing and apparating at random, colliding on each other, while the cat threw down everything that stood on his path; kitchen utensils, chairs, plates and several unfortunate elves.

~*~

Standing over the bubbling cauldron with his sleeves rolled past his elbows, Snape added a pinch of catnip into the boiling brew. The liquid foamed briefly, but then settled as he continued to stir clockwise. He leaned forward and sniffed the brewing potion. A horrid smell made him grimace.

This thing smells like feline urine, he thought in disgust. No way I am going to drink this.

~*~

Farfy the house elf toppled over a kettle and landed on his stomach. Before he could get back on his feet, he was pinned down by the weight of that insane cat. Farfy felt his hot breath on his neck, as the foulest smell reached the elf's nostrils. He quivered and tried to break free, but in vain. The cat licked the back of his head, as if sampling his dinner. Farfy screamed, aware that his life had come to an end.

Then he had an epiphany.

Snapping his fingers, he summoned a platter of chicken drumsticks.

Luckily for the elvendom on earth, Gingerhead found chicken drumsticks more appealing than dirty house elves.

~*~

Snape sat back on his chair, studying the contents of a vial filled with a murky liquid. It appeared to have brewed according to the recipe, but there was no way of telling without sampling. He looked around but the cat was still nowhere in sight.

"Where's that accursed cat when you need him?" He sighed and placed the vial on his desk.

Testing the effects of the brew would have to wait until the following day, or whenever the cat decided to grace him with his presence again. And if, by any chance, the cat decided to never return, so much the better.

He snickered at the thought.

And then he heard the knock on the door.

~*~

"What now?" Clutching his black robe around his slim body, Severus Snape eyed Hagrid with clear resentment.

"My apologies, Professor, for disturbing your rest," the half-giant mumbled. "I just wanted to bring this to you." And he handed him the cat that was blissfully licking his whiskers.

Out of reflex, Snape took the cat that Hagrid offered him, and regretted it the same instant. That animal was heavy. Snorting, he let him down and Gingerhead trotted past him, making himself at home. Hagrid appeared concerned.

"Yes? Was there something else you wanted, Hagrid?"

The half-giant's eyes studied the dust on his boots. "Actually, Professor..."

"Well? Speak up, man. It is getting late." Snape pushed back the urge to shut the door in his face.

"You see, Professor, the cat has misbehaved tonight."

"And what's new about that? He has been misbehaving every single night for the past week," he spat. "What's your point, Hagrid?"

"He broke into the kitchens," Hagrid finally said. "He wrecked the place and injured several of the elves there. I heard them talk of going on strike, Professor. The Headmaster will be furious when he finds out."

"Don't be ridiculous, Hagrid. The house elves never go on strike."

"Perhaps those who have never met this cat," argued Hagrid.

True. Snape sighed. "Fine, Hagrid. I will see what I can do."

He closed the door and returned to his office, followed by a purring Gingerhead. Snape added five drops of the potion into his wine and raised it to his face. After a moment of hesitation, he emptied the contents down his throat.

Nothing.

He stared at the cat, which was happily washing his privates. Still nothing. He could hear him purr and occasionally growl, but he could not hear him speak. Snape frowned. He went through the recipe again but, as far as he knew, he had done everything according to the instructions.

Tired, he gently massaged his temples, feeling the onset of a horrible headache.

"...stupid bipeds, no better than house elves, and where is my snack, imbecile? I need to be fed and groomed and petted and worshipped. My grandfather was a pharaoh's cat and I'm stuck with a worthless slave like this sorry hide over there, staring at me clueless of my true statue, neglecting his duties and my meals and my praise..."

The Potions Master stood dumbstruck, hearing speechless the cat's grumbling. Then he regained the use of his vocal cords. "Whom did you call imbecile?"

"...not even one meal served on time, not one toy worth shredding, just this smelly, greasy, snoring simian-" Gingerhead abruptly looked up, taken aback by the sudden realization that Snape had actually heard him. He gazed at him with renewed interest. "You can understand what I am saying, human?"

Snape grinned. "Yes, kitty, I can." And he bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile that could make his students soil their breeches.

The game was afoot.