DISCLAIMER: I still don't own it, nor shall I ever own it. Although thinking about it would be nice, I don't think I ever would. Even if given the chance. The HP books and characters belong to Rowling, who put too much hard work and dedication into the books to have them simply sold away.

And now, the next chapter of

MY PET HARRY

O o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

The next few days went pretty much the same for Harry Potter. Wake up, eat, get mobbed by children and old ladies, sleep. Ah, the life of a cat.

Thanks to his dear Potions Professor, he had to listen to endless rumors about himself now. First he had been the Boy-Who-Lived. Then after Snape announced to the world that he was missing, he became the Boy-Who-Lived and Went-Missing.

All day he heard various rumors about his disappearance. Most speculated that he had been kidnapped by Death Eaters. Some claim that he went to join the Dark Lord. Some say that he'd left the Wizarding world for good. And then there were those people who claimed that he discovered his long lost half brother, because his father apparently slept around, and was currently living in Antarctica.

He was going to kill Rita Skeeter. No question.

The day after that, the Order decided to tell the world that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was defeated. By Harry Potter no less. 'And there was much rejoicing.'

After that, he went from the Boy-Who-Lived and Went-Missing, to The-Boy-Who-Lived-And-Defeated-the-Dark-Lord-And-Went-Missing.

Yes. They actually printed all of that out in the paper. He was no longer the Boy-Who-Lived. He was now The-Boy-Who-Lived. They added the "The" to the title. 'Wow, don't I feel privileged."

Now comes the difficult decision. Should he kill Snape first? Or Skeeter? Decisions, decisions......

He listened tiredly at the rumors floating about. He never got a break. They talked about him even when he wasn't around. Mind you he wasn't getting gawked at because of his scar or because who he was. Instead he was getting gawked at because of another scar, as a cat.

DAMN INSTINCTS!

Harry licked his crotch for a good 15 minutes before it kicked it what he was doing. Bloody instincts! He emptied his water bowl of water, trying to get past the disgustingness of it all.

Not that it was anyone's business, but cats didn't have much in the sense of taste buds. So he couldn't really say that it tasted horrible. But still! It was disgusting! He was a human. HUMAN!

He had heard about this before. It happens to some people who stay in their animagus form too long. Their animal instincts take control. Some people say that people forget who they are in their animagus form if in it for too long. But studies on that theory were inconclusive.

After downing his bowl of water, he attracted a lot of stares of people in the pet shop. Most animals didn't drink that much water unless something was wrong. It was obvious that he didn't have rabies. So one of the clerks thought that maybe he was dehydrated. And tired to shove medicine down his throat.

Idiots. He just finished licking his crotch. He like to se them. . . Actually, no he wouldn't. The desire to eat grass just became very desirable recently. He certainly felt like he wanted to throw up.

But now onto the real problem. How was he going to get out of here? Harry got up and paced his cage in circles. Trying to think of something. But the only real option he had was to get adopted and hope that the person took his collar off at some point. But that plan had too many quirks in it.

He'd been in this place for about a week now. And after that week it was plainly clear that he had two options. Get adopted by an old lady who coddled him to death and fed him dry cat food. Or get adopted by a little girl who coddled him to death and forced him to play tea party.

As you can tell, his options were a slightly limited.

Reaching up with his back leg, he moved to scratch behind his ear. When he felt a hand scratch there for him. He was about to look as see who it was when he felt his body turn to much. 'Wow! This person knows how to scratch an itch.'

Without even realizing it, he began to purr up as storm. 'A little lower. Just a little lower. That's it. . .' He sighed as his cat instincts went into ecstasy.

He heard something latch shut near him as he came out of his daze after the person stopped petting him. Now he just felt dirty. That could so be taken into the wrong context.

Had he actually been paying attention, he might have noticed he was no longer in his cage. Instead he was in a different. Only it wasn't see through, except for the door in the front, and the cage was more rectangular.

It looked suspiciously like. . .the inside of a cat carrier. Shit! He'd gotten adopted! And he didn't even realize it! Hell, he didn't even see who it was! He could have gotten adopted by Nevile for all he knew. And that was a frightening thought.

But hey, anyone who could pet a cat that lavishly couldn't be all that bad, could they?

"I shall call you Mine. Because you are. Get it? Mine? Mine?" A young woman stated his name to him through the carrier. The voice sounded familiar. He thought he should know it, but he was having problems putting sounds with faces.

Mine? What kind of name was Mine? Better than Crookshanks he supposed. He'd hoped that maybe he would get adopted by a Hogwarts student. Get taken there. But school was still a few weeks away. And the students had not yet come in for their school supplies.

Focusing on his cat instincts, he noticed that he could smell the specific sent of the person. Obviously a young woman. So he didn't know if she went to Hogwarts or not. Not wearing any makeup or anything, he would have smelled it. Had the air of a very calm person. Smelled slightly of butterbeer. . . Probably just came from the pub. A very faint 'clinking' sound, she wore jewelry of some sort. . .

'No way. . .' he moved toward the front of the carrier, thinking maybe he could get a glimpse of the person carrying him around the alley. 'Hey you, say something so I can figure out who you are.'

The woman apparently heard him meowing and paused in step, but kept going. "Don't worry Mine, we'll just use the floo and then we'll be at your knew home."

'Oh no.' He recognized that voice. Before he could say more, she stepped into the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron. 'Floo, I hate floo.' Were his last thoughts before he breathed in a large amount to soot.