CHAPTER 14: Gingerhead unbound.

The sun rose over Hogwarts on that warm October Sunday. Most of the residents, students and teachers alike, ignored the first rays of sunlight and just rolled over in their beds to indulge in one more hour of sleep. Inside the Gryffindor Tower Harry Potter, the boy-that-lived, rubbed his eyes, secretly wishing that he could stay in bed like the rest of his friends. But he had to get up and get dressed, because Oliver Wood had scheduled early Quidditch practice that morning.

Sighing, the boy sat up on his bed and slid his feet inside his slippers. Under his left sole he felt something soft and sticky. He bent over to see what he had stepped on, as the fear of having accidentally killed Ron's pet filled his heart. A cry of disgust escaped his lips as he saw the gross sight.

Inside his slipper, Harry saw the bloodied and disemboweled remains of a rat. Fortunately not Scabbers, but the sight was nauseating anyway. Frustrated, he looked up to his owl that was dozing off beside his bed.

"Hedwig," he said in a bilious tone, "how many times do I have to tell you to keep your catches out of my room? Now look what you have done."

Hopping on one leg in order to avoid touching the floor with his bloodied sole, he made his way to the bathroom to clean himself up. When he found out that his practice uniform and shoes had similar 'tokens', he was already late for practice.

Hedwig tried in vain to explain that it was all the cat's doing, but after the fifth attempt he gave up, accepting that his human was beyond any hope for interspecies communication.

~*~

The Gryffindor team Captain would be rather disappointed, for Harry was not the only one late for practice. Fred and George Weasley were late as well. Too late, despite the fact that they had woken up on time, an incident extraordinary all by itself. Then their jaws dropped when they saw the state their clothes were in.

"Mom in going to kill us," commented George, after the first shock.

"Forget about Mom. I'm not getting out of the room in these. Wood will have to practice without us, until we find a way to fix this," added Fred.

Apparently, the house elves that took care of the laundry had messed things up big time. Every piece of clothing that belonged to the Weasley twins had acquired a dazzling shade of lavender, one that even Lockhart would be reluctant to wear. Moreover, it seemed that the clothes had shrunk at least one size. And this was more infuriating when it came to their underwear.

"Stupid house elves," mumbled Fred. "They must have washed our clothes along with the girls' panties."

George took out his wand, aiming at their messed up laundry and cast a transfiguration spell. The lavender shade flickered for a moment and then it turned to a brilliant hot pink. And no matter how hard they tried, the color refused to change any further.

The news of Fred and George Weasley coming out of the common showers in matched pink bathrobes hardly covering their skinny knees traveled around the castle in the blink of an eye, making people of all Houses laugh their hearts out. As for the Slytherins, it was a field day.

The house elves, even when questioned from the Headmaster himself, 'forgot' to mention that they had been coerced by a certain cat to mistake the boys' clothes for girls' panties.

~*~

Argus Filch woke up by the piercing sound of demanding mewing. He sat up, still dizzy from the calming potion he had been given the previous night. Then the fogginess abruptly left his mind, replaced by sudden horror. His cat was scratching the door, crying to be left out. Behind the closed door, the caretaker could hear the most atrocious sound ever; this of male feline suitors.

Mrs. Norris was in heat.

Cursing through clenched teeth, he got up and bolted the door, whispering soothing words to his desperate cat. He knew that there was no way he could ease her torment. But he would never allow his little angel to fall prey to the horde of horny felines out there. He would outlive them, even under siege.

Filch had no means of knowing the secret communication between the cats of the castle. Concealed from human senses, a certain cat has delivered the news of a fertile female among the male cat population of Hogwarts during the night.

~*~

Gilderoy Lockhart tore the package open with shaking hands. At last, his tailored robes had arrived from London with an express owl. He held them against the light, marveling on the way the soft fabric glittered in the sun. Inpatient, he got out of the second hand robes he had to wear during the past few days, feeling an almost sexual arousal in anticipation of the silk against his skin. Then he heard it.

Naked, he looked down and saw that accursed cat staring at him with his huge, orange eyes. The cat mewed again and licked his whiskers.

Lockhart paled, feeling exposed to the cat's sharp claws. "Go away."

Gingerhead blinked. And then he stretched.

Seeing the cat moving, the wizard jumped on the bed, stepping over his new robes and crouching as far as possible from the cat. "Go away," he hissed.

Unimpressed, the cat raised his hind paw and scratched his head behind the ear. Then he jumped on the bed, sniffing Gilderoy's new robes.

"Do not dare to touch my new clothes, worthless fleabag," he spat.

It seemed as if the cat had winced on hearing the insult. He glared at him for one long moment. Then he moved stealthily close to the cowering wizard. Scared stiff, Lockhart closed his eyes as he felt the cat's breath on his face, expecting sharp claws to slash his face at any moment. When the cat sniffed his more private parts, fear became terror, as all he could think of was the razor-like claws and the ivory fangs. Then the cat pulled away. He only opened his eyes when a terrible stench, accompanied by scratching sounds, reached his nostrils.

The cat had peed on his new clothes.

Lockhart felt tears running down his face, as he watched the cat leave.

Only then did he realize that it was not just the cat's urine that smelled that bad.

Gilderoy Lockhart had wetted himself.

~*~

It was Sunday evening when Severus Snape knocked on Professor McGonagall's office door. When he stepped into the room, the old witch greeted him with an icy stare.

"Well, Professor? Was there something you wanted?"

His lips curled into a hint of a sneer. "I'm here for my detention, Minerva," he said in a silky voice.

"This joke is no longer funny, Professor," she spat.

Snape folded his arms across his chest. "This is the first and last attempt to atone for the cat's sins, Minerva," he warned her. "Take it or leave it."

She gazed at him suspiciously. "Is this so?"

He raised his hands. "Fine, Minerva, have it your way. I am leaving," he said and turned his back. But her voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Wait." There was a moment of silence. "Severus Snape, I hardly believe my eyes. Are you apologizing to me?"

A scowl appeared on the pale face. "I am certain I have no idea of what you are talking about."

"Really?" She grinned, probably already visualizing the laughs she'd have over this incident in the future.

Then the cat jumped on her desk and mewed affectionately, attempting to rub his face against hers.

She flinched, a flash of horror passing through her eyes. "Get that animal out of my office, Severus."

"Why?"

She gulped. "I do not like the way he looks at me."

"And how would that be?"

"Hungry. Scheming. As if he can understand every word I say."

Snape smiled. "But his does, Minerva." He turned his attention to Gingerhead. "Come here, boy," he said in a low, gentle voice, completely unfitting to the dreaded Potions Master of Hogwarts. Surprisingly, the cat obeyed. Snape bent over and picked the huge cat in his arms.

"Should I assume that you no longer wish to give me detention?" His voice had regained his usual sarcasm.

Professor McGonagall pretended to read the parchment before her. "Go away, Severus. And take that blasted animal with you." As she watched him leave, she spoke one last time. "One question, though."

"Yes?"

"You cannot possibly know that he understands our words?"

Snape stared at the cat's brilliant eyes for a moment before replying. "Oh, but I do."

Minerva MacGonagall gazed at him, confused.

"I should know. After all, he is my cat."