A/N: I have just finished reading the first four Harry Potter books, and I felt that this one had to be said. Cats will be cats, and be glad it isn't Professor McGongal.
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters or situations, but I might be the proud owner of the amazing "black magic marker"!
Little Fluff Balls
Argus Filch sat at his desk with the latest copy of "The Daily Prophet". He was hard at work with vast improvements of the live action photos with that special black magic marker that he had conveniently confiscated from that conniving loud mouthed arrogant snide little snot Draco Malfoy. No kind of black magic was allowed at Hogswart! Of course, everyone knew that Argus Filch could had no kind of magical skills whatsoever, thus he could not do any kind of magic, muchless black magic. One didn't need magic talent to use the black magic marker in the way it was intended to be used. It was an enchanted item, and it would do what it was made to do. So, Filch sat back and admired the new and improved picture of Cornelius Fudge and knew full well the consequences. The minister of magic would be most surprised to find himself in a frilly dress with a matching handbag, especially if he were in the midst of one of those important political speeches. This one was almost as good as the addition to Alastor Moody's picture. The ex-auror had a little gift wrapped present with a little note that said "Wish you were here. Love Rosier" and a lit fuse on the end.
Out of the midst of his mirth, his shoulders suddenly drooped. It was not the same without Mrs. Norris around. She had been missing for three months now. She had never been gone this long before. When he found out who kidnapped his puss, there would be hell to pay. Neville Longbottom whimpered from his shackled position upside down on the wall. He chewed merciless upon one of Argus' not exactly clean or very sanitary socks.
"Oh, 'ush, boy! You 'ad yer chance to talk. So, suck it up." Too bad he couldn't get out the hot irons. Oh well, the feather duster was just as fun, and it didn't leave marks that he'd not have to explain that one to Dumbledore.
He threw down the paper in disgust and looked at the untouched food and drink at the side of his desk. 9 Lives and calamari was Mrs. Norris' favorite, but she hadn't been around to even take a nibble of it. If he found out that that lousy Potter kid raised that damn basilisk again, he would be getting out that iron maiden, regardless of what the headmaster had to say about it. Burying his face in his hands, he did some major moping.
A gentle thud tapped onto his discarded newspaper, and a sweet little voice said "Meow?"
Argus peeked through the cracks between his fingers. With a joyful exclamation from his normally dour character, he stood up suddenly and exclaimed. "Mrs. Norris! Where 'ave you been, old girl!"
"Meow!" she answered, and she purred profusely.
The caretaker's eyes opened wide with the unusual show of affection that his cat had acquired. She rubbed her body against his face and marked him with her mouth, as she continued to purr. "What's with you, girl?" he asked.
"Meow!" she answered, as she spotted the bowl of food on the floor. She, being the intelligent and catty type cat she was, promptly abandoned him for favor of the delicacy on the floor.
"Oh well," he mused, "as long as you are back and all right."
A gentle noise distracted him from watching his partner consume her meal. He looked across the room, and his eyes grew wide with disbelief. Four ginger colored kittens with bottle brush tails and a sleek black kitten soon entered the room and joined Mrs. Norris for supper!
He slammed his fists on his desk and cried out, "When I get a 'old of Miss Granger's mangy cat, I will 'ave a new orange shag carpet!!!"
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters or situations, but I might be the proud owner of the amazing "black magic marker"!
Little Fluff Balls
Argus Filch sat at his desk with the latest copy of "The Daily Prophet". He was hard at work with vast improvements of the live action photos with that special black magic marker that he had conveniently confiscated from that conniving loud mouthed arrogant snide little snot Draco Malfoy. No kind of black magic was allowed at Hogswart! Of course, everyone knew that Argus Filch could had no kind of magical skills whatsoever, thus he could not do any kind of magic, muchless black magic. One didn't need magic talent to use the black magic marker in the way it was intended to be used. It was an enchanted item, and it would do what it was made to do. So, Filch sat back and admired the new and improved picture of Cornelius Fudge and knew full well the consequences. The minister of magic would be most surprised to find himself in a frilly dress with a matching handbag, especially if he were in the midst of one of those important political speeches. This one was almost as good as the addition to Alastor Moody's picture. The ex-auror had a little gift wrapped present with a little note that said "Wish you were here. Love Rosier" and a lit fuse on the end.
Out of the midst of his mirth, his shoulders suddenly drooped. It was not the same without Mrs. Norris around. She had been missing for three months now. She had never been gone this long before. When he found out who kidnapped his puss, there would be hell to pay. Neville Longbottom whimpered from his shackled position upside down on the wall. He chewed merciless upon one of Argus' not exactly clean or very sanitary socks.
"Oh, 'ush, boy! You 'ad yer chance to talk. So, suck it up." Too bad he couldn't get out the hot irons. Oh well, the feather duster was just as fun, and it didn't leave marks that he'd not have to explain that one to Dumbledore.
He threw down the paper in disgust and looked at the untouched food and drink at the side of his desk. 9 Lives and calamari was Mrs. Norris' favorite, but she hadn't been around to even take a nibble of it. If he found out that that lousy Potter kid raised that damn basilisk again, he would be getting out that iron maiden, regardless of what the headmaster had to say about it. Burying his face in his hands, he did some major moping.
A gentle thud tapped onto his discarded newspaper, and a sweet little voice said "Meow?"
Argus peeked through the cracks between his fingers. With a joyful exclamation from his normally dour character, he stood up suddenly and exclaimed. "Mrs. Norris! Where 'ave you been, old girl!"
"Meow!" she answered, and she purred profusely.
The caretaker's eyes opened wide with the unusual show of affection that his cat had acquired. She rubbed her body against his face and marked him with her mouth, as she continued to purr. "What's with you, girl?" he asked.
"Meow!" she answered, as she spotted the bowl of food on the floor. She, being the intelligent and catty type cat she was, promptly abandoned him for favor of the delicacy on the floor.
"Oh well," he mused, "as long as you are back and all right."
A gentle noise distracted him from watching his partner consume her meal. He looked across the room, and his eyes grew wide with disbelief. Four ginger colored kittens with bottle brush tails and a sleek black kitten soon entered the room and joined Mrs. Norris for supper!
He slammed his fists on his desk and cried out, "When I get a 'old of Miss Granger's mangy cat, I will 'ave a new orange shag carpet!!!"