've had a few comments/reviews about shipping lately, but to be honest, romantic pairings are pretty low on my priority list when planning out this story. Yeah, I know, gender-flip stories are usually all about the romance (turning Harry into a girl so she can fall in love with Draco Malfoy, for instance), but Weasley Girl is not a romance story.

Our heroes' love lives might get a little more prominent when the kids begin entering their teens, and hormones begin acting up... and there'll probably be a few schoolgirl crushes this year, but nothing too serious just yet. Besides, any romance that may or may not happen will be strictly secondary to the plot.

That said, I have started a shipping poll on my profile, where you can vote for your favorite pairings, plus a few pairings I just tossed in as a joke (multiple choices allowed). I can't promise that the poll results will affect the story in any way; this is just for fun, and because I got curious what my readers thought.

WEASLEY GIRL: SECRETS OF THE PAST

Based on the Harry Potter books by J. K. Rowling

CHAPTER THREE
Crookshanks

Over the course of the next two weeks, the Burrow got more letters and callers than it had seen for decades, and all of them were for or about Harry.

Some of the letters were from friends; in addition to Hermione and Neville, who had both written to express their relief that Harry was all right; several other people they knew from Hogwarts had written as well — even Hagrid, the gamekeeper, had sent a letter, telling them in his untidy scrawl that he was glad Harry was with people he could trust instead of those "ruddy Muggles."

Most of the letters, however, were from strangers or just vague acquaintances, because it didn't take long at all before the general public managed to discover that Harry was now living with the Weasleys. Some people showed up in person to try to talk to Harry, but Mum sent them away with a "leave the boy alone!" That left the letters, and they ranged from sympathetic and concerned, to threatening and insulting. Quite a few letters demanded the names of the Muggles that had mistreated Harry, along with detailed lists of what the letter-writers were going to do to them.

"I don't think half the things on this list are physically possible, even with magic," said Fred as he scanned the letter of one particularly imaginative and vicious wizard. "Listen to this: When I find out who and where those Muggles are, I will shove their heads so far up their —"

"We can read, thank you!" Percy snapped, grabbing a different letter. "Not that all these people make it easy. This is the most atrocious handwriting I've seen! It's enough to make me wish Hogwarts taught proper penmanship."

"You always know how to focus on what's important, don't you, Perce?" said George. "Hey, Ron, this one's for you."

"Read it, will you?" said Ronnie wearily. This was the second time in her life she'd had her name in the paper — the first time had been during the war, when some Prophet employee had been desperate for news not about You-Know-Who and found the birth of the first Weasley girl for centuries worthy of a small notice. That had been a source of pride, something fun to think back on; completely unlike this.

"Stay away from Harry Potter, you Muggle-loving tramp, he's mine." George read. "It's not even signed. I think you're supposed to automatically know who you're meant to hand Harry over to."

"Ginny, did you write it?" said Fred. Ginny glared at him, and then got very busy stroking Scabbers, whom she had for once brought out of his cage and taken downstairs (not that this seemed to matter much to the rat, who spent almost all his time sleeping).

Harry, who was sitting next to Ronnie behind an extra-large pile of letters, looked miserable. While he had, thankfully, never offered to leave the Burrow after that first article in the Daily Prophet, it seemed to Ronnie like he felt that the torrent of letters was his fault. (Of course he would, he was Harry. If someone had managed to tell him that he personally was responsible for the existence of Dragon Pox, he'd believe it.)

He picked up one letter from the pile, the same one he had picked up and put down again at least three times now. It was from Rita Skeeter, the very same witch who had written the article in the first place. "Maybe I should agree to give her an interview," he said.

"What for?" said Ronnie, who to her annoyance knew she had turned pink again. "She's the reason why we're getting all this hate mail, I don't think she deserves an interview with you."

"But I could at least explain that she's misunderstood," said Harry hopefully.

"And have her write that we've brainwashed you into saying what we want? No thanks!"

"Hey, this one's from old Xenophilius Lovegood!" said George, looking at the new letter he'd picked up.

"He's our closest wizard neighbour," Fred added for Harry's benefit. "Completely batty."

"Let's see what he writes," said George. "Hmm... I want to let you all know that I don't believe any of the hostile rumours about Arthur or any of the Weasleys for one second. Your family, as well as the Muggle Protection Act, can count on my continued full support, both personally and professionally."

"Always liked old Xeno," said Fred hurriedly. "A little eccentric, but a good chap."

"What does he mean, personally and professionally?" said Harry.

"Oh, er, he's the editor of a magazine called The Quibbler," said Ronnie. "Mum won't allow it in the house. Says it's full of nonsense."

"I used to think that was her way of saying it was full of pictures of naked ladies, and that was why she didn't want us to read it," Fred smirked. "I was really disappointed when Lee Jordan managed to scrounge an issue. No naked ladies, just a lot of literal nonsense. Weird conspiracies and sightings of monsters nobody's ever heard of and hens laying the same egg three times in hurricanes and things like that."

"Of course, that's half the fun of it," said George. "Wouldn't mind reading some more. Think Mum'll lift the ban on the mag when she finds out that Xeno's supporting Dad?"

"No offence to Mr. Lovegood, but when it comes to support, I do think Dad could do better than him," Percy huffed.

"Your father and I are certainly grateful for any support we can get," said Mum, who just then was entering the kitchen, carrying everyone's coats. "But right now, we have more important things to think of than some silly letters. Today we're going to Diagon Alley, and we're going to forget all this nonsense for a while. Come on, get your coats on and save the rest of the letters for later."

"It's August, Mum," said Ginny. "It's still warm outside. Why do we need coats? We'll die of heat."

"Don't be silly, dear. Besides, you'll need the pockets. Put it on, now."

Ronnie silently agreed with Ginny about the coats, but she knew there was no arguing with Mum when it came to this, so she put hers on without protest. (It was getting a little small for her, she noticed, but didn't want to start asking for a new one — the school supplies they had to pick up would already cost more than they could really afford, especially since the Defence against the Dark Arts books were all by Gilderoy Lockhart this year, and Gilderoy Lockhart books were expensive.)

As everyone gathered in front of the fireplace, with Dad finally joining them, Ginny took Scabbers up off the table.

"You're not taking Scabbers to Diagon Alley?" said Ronnie, a little surprised.

"Yes, I am," said Ginny, in her best 'I've-decided-and-you-can't-change-my-mind' voice. "He never sees anything but our room, I thought he'd enjoy a change of scenery."

"Ginny, scenery doesn't really matter to a rat who never wakes up," said Ronnie.

Ginny looked at her. "D'you know what you are?" she said.

"A Muggle-loving tramp, according to some," said Ronnie dryly.

"You're jealous! Because Scabbers likes me better than you!" said Ginny. "You're so used to all animals in the world loving you that when one of them likes me better, you don't know what to do other than making comments like that!"

Fred and George, both in their coats by now, began laughing. "She's got you there, Ron!" said Fred, completely ignoring that he himself had made similar jokes about Scabbers in the past.

"Bollocks," said Ronnie — but Fred's hypocrisy aside, she did feel slightly guilty. In truth, she had always felt a little put off by Scabbers's complete lack of interest in her. Almost every other animal she met instantly adored her and wanted to be friends; sometimes it was even a little too much (especially when invisible Thestrals and three-headed dogs declared love at first sight), but on the rare occasions when she met an animal that didn't like her... it made her feel strange inside, as if she was failing or something. It was why she had declined when Percy had first wanted to give her Scabbers and passed him on to Ginny instead.

"Well, I'm taking Scabbers and showing him Diagon Alley," said Ginny, carefully sliding the rat down into her coat pocket.

"Now, come along, all! We've got a lot of school supplies to buy, and we're supposed to meet the Grangers as well!" said Dad, looking rather excited at this thought.

"Arthur, do try to keep your questions about Muggle life to a minimum when we meet them," said Mum. "And Fred, George — behave yourself!"

The twins gave her exaggeratedly hurt looks. "But Mum," said Fred. "How can you even suggest that we won't behave like perfect angels?"

Mum gave him a look, and then turned to Ronnie. "As for you, young lady, I don't want a repeat of last year, is that understood?"

Ronnie felt herself go pink. "I wasn't at the Magical Menagerie for that long," she murmured.

"You were in there for three hours! I had to drag you out of there in the end!"

Ronnie sighed. The Magical Menagerie, located at the North side of Diagon Alley, was in her opinion the best shop in the entire world. It was small and cramped and noisy, but had so many wonderful animals that she would gladly have spent days in there on end to get to know them all - and the witch who usually looked after the shop was a niece of the famous magizoologist Newt Scamander and knew all sorts of fascinating things about animals.

When Ronnie was younger she'd always gone there (never to buy, but only to meet the new animals) together with Charlie, who was a little better at keeping time, but last year was the first time she'd been there alone, hence the perfectly understandable miscalculation of time.

"Just one very short visit?" she pleaded, like a very young child begging for a sweet. "Harry has to get owl treats for Hedwig anyway, and I promised him I'd show him the shop."

In truth, she hadn't promised him anything of the kind — the Magical Menagerie was pretty easy to find and even easier to find your way around in — but Harry seemed to have picked up how much she wanted to go, and so he just nodded. "It's true, Mrs. Weasley, she did promise."

Mum looked at them both, and then gave in. "Oh, all right," she said. "But only a very short visit. If I have to come drag you out of there —"

"You won't, Mum!"

Mum double-checked that everyone was in their coats and then walked over to the fireplace to pick up the flowerpot where they kept the Floo powder. "We're running a bit low, Arthur," she sighed after having peered inside. "We'll have to buy more today... ah well, guests first. After you, Harry dear."

Harry looked at the flowerpot with a puzzled expression on his face, as if he had been asked to solve some particularly difficult puzzle, and Ronnie finally understood what the problem was: He had no idea what was going on.

"It's Floo powder, Harry," she hurried to say. "It's how we usually get to Diagon Alley. Sorry, I didn't realise you wouldn't have travelled by Floo before."

"Er, no," said Harry. He'd lived with them for slightly more than two weeks now, and while (despite what the Daily Prophet and Draco Malfoy claimed) he had adjusted to wizard life quite well in the year he'd known about magic, there would be the occasional moment like this, when he encountered something completely ordinary and treated it as new and unfamiliar. "I sort of thought we were taking the car," he admitted.

"Oh, Floo powder's much quicker, dear," said Mum, who with the possible exception of Percy was the family member who liked Dad's car the least. "But goodness me, if you've never used it before —"

"He'll be fine, Mum," said Fred. "Harry, watch us first!" Never one to resist making a performance, he took a pinch of the Floo powder and walked with rather theatrical strides up to the fireplace, throwing the powder into the fire. As it turned green and rose high, he stepped into it and shouted: "Diagon Alley!" And then he was gone.

"Nothing to it, Harry," said George. "Now watch me!"

But he didn't get the undivided attention that Fred had as he too helped himself to Floo powder, because now everyone else (even Ginny and Percy) was gathering around Harry with helpful advice.

"You must speak clearly, dear, and sure to get out at the right grate... there are an awful lot of wizard fires to choose from, you know, but as long as you've spoken clearly -"

"And keep your elbows tucked in."

"And your eyes shut. The soot —"

"Don't fidget, or you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace —"

"But don't panic and get out too early; wait until you see Fred and George."

"If you get nervous, Ginny can hold your hand."

"Shut up, George!"

Harry looked rather overwhelmed at all this, but as soon as George had stepped into the fire and vanished, he took a pinch of Floo powder and stepped up to the fireplace with the definite expression of someone who is trying to hide his nervousness.

He managed the throwing part nicely, and barely hesitated at all to step into the green fire - in fact, he was doing marvellously right up to the part where he was to speak the name of his destination. That was when he managed to inhale a bit of hot ash and was struck by a coughing fit. He just had time to croak out something that sounded like "D-Dia-gon-all-ly," before vanishing.

The kitchen fell silent. Mum and Dad looked at one another.

"Did he say 'Diagon Alley,' or 'Diagonally?'" said Mum.

"It sounded like 'Diagonally,'" aid Percy.

"That's what I thought," said Mum. "Oh dear, what if he misses the grate? He could end up anywhere!"

Ronnie grabbed a pinch of Floo powder and threw it into the fire. "I'll follow him!" she stated, jumping into the green flames. "Diagonally!"

"Veronica Weasley, you come back here right this —" Mum's voice drowned in the loud roar of the fire as Ronnie spun down the darkened passway that was the Floo network, the green flames whipping around her and the blurred stream of fireplaces whooshing past. As always, the Floo ride was a fast, loud, dizzying experience, and Ronnie just barely had the time to reflect that maybe she shouldn't have jumped in like this without being absolutely certain that she'd end up in the same place as Harry —

— and then she came to a halt, stumbling out of a fireplace and landing flat on her stomach.

A cacophony of noises exploded around her, noises so diverse and so familiar that even before she lifted her head, she knew exactly where she had ended up. A quick look up confirmed it: Around the tiny fireplace she'd just tumbled out of, cages of all shapes and sizes were covering every inch of wall, and inside almost every cage one or more animals were watching her and making an excited racket. Owls were hooting, cats meowing, toads chirping and croaking, ravens cawing, snakes hissing, mice and rats squeaking, and a Jarvey that peered out from a cage near the floor was crying: "Have a nice trip, Beanpole?!"

She'd ended up at the Magical Menagerie. But, she noted as she sat up, there was no sign of Harry.

"What's going on here — why, that's never little Ronnie Weasley, is it?" The voice belonged to Miss Scamander, the witch from the counter, who had heard the commotion and came running to help Ronnie back onto her feet. "I've been wondering when you'd show up to visit the animals! Charlie still in Romania, is he?"

"Yes — thanks," Ronnie managed to say as she was back on her feet.

"You know, the Floo isn't really for customers. Next time you want to pay a visit, use the door. That's why we have it." Miss Scamander grinned and let go of Ronnie's hand.

"I didn't mean to — Look, you haven't seen — Oy!" Ronnie cut herself off with a startled yelp as something big, orange and soft came leaping down from one of the cages on the top shelf and landed on her head.

Before she really knew what had happened, she found herself with an armful of cat. It was a large, ginger tomcat with thick, fluffy fur, a bottle-brush tail, and a flat face that gave him a strange grumpy appearance, as if he had once ran headfirst into a wall and never stopped being annoyed over the incident.

"Oh, not again," Miss Scamander sighed. "Crookshanks, why can't you ever stay in your cage?"

"Jailbreak!" the Jarvey called from its cage. "Shoot the bastard!" (Jarveys were capable of speech, but mainly spoke in crude insults, so having a meaningful conversation with one was completely out of the question.)

The cat, whose name was apparently Crookshanks, turned his head to look at Miss Scamander, and Ronnie got the distinct impression that he found her amusing.

"I don't know how he does it," said Miss Scamander with a shake of her head. "It seems like no cage can hold him if he doesn't want it to, no matter how many charms we put on it. Oh well, since he's already set on introducing himself: Crookshanks, this is Ronnie. Ronnie, this is Crookshanks."

"Wow," said Ronnie. She could tell that the cat wasn't very old, but he was already bigger than most normal cats she'd met. "Hello, Crookshanks." She began stroking him, and he immediately began purring up a storm and rubbing his head against her.

"Well, that's love at first sight," said Miss Scamander.

"Perverts!" the Jarvey shouted happily.

"The poor dear's been here for a fortnight," said Miss Scamander, ignoring it, "and hasn't taken to anyone like that before. He's not very attractive either, so nobody has wanted him. You wouldn't be interested —" she said hopefully.

"Can't afford him," Ronnie sighed. She could feel herself starting to fall for the strange, grumpy-looking cat, but her family was already strapped for money; she'd never be allowed to buy a new pet now. "Miss Scamander, you haven't seen Harry Potter around here, have you?"

"Harry Potter?" Miss Scamander shook her head again. "I'm absolutely certain I would have noticed it if he'd came tumbling out of the fire. Have you lost him? I read about you in the Daily Prophet — oh, relax, girl, I didn't believe that rubbish!"

"You're in the minority, then," said Ronnie, scratching Crookshanks behind the ears. "I'd love to stay for a visit, but I have to find Harry."

"You couldn't find your arse with both hands!" the Jarvey commented.

"Shut up, you, or you get another Silencing charm!" said Miss Scamander. "As for that one, she was anonymously donated to the shop a few months ago, and has been insulting customers ever since."

"Customers stink!" said the Jarvey. Several of the other animals turned their heads to look at it from their cages, and Ronnie had the distinct feeling that they were glaring at it.

Miss Scamander placed a hand on her forehead and took a very deep breath. Then, she turned back to Ronnie and said calmly: "Well, if Harry Potter was off with the Floo, he's bound to be nearby. Likely he just stepped out of the wrong grate, like you did."

"Hope you're right." Ronnie handed the reluctant Crookshanks over to Miss Scamander. "I'll see you later, I hope — was planning on taking Harry here to buy treats for his owl."

"Good luck, then," said Miss Scamander, taking Crookshanks and holding him firmly when he tried to jump out of her arms.

"Thanks. Bye, Crookshanks!" Ronnie tore her eyes away from the cat and hurried out the door.

"Glad to see the back of you, freckle-face!" she heard the Jarvey say before closing the door behind her and stepping out on the street.

Diagon Alley was especially crowded today, she realised with a sinking heart. Witches and wizards of all ages and sizes were scurrying about, exiting and entering the many shops that cluttered the street. Even at the best of times, the twisting and turning Diagon Alley could be difficult to get a proper overview of, but right now when it seemed like everyone had decided to do their Hogwarts shopping at the same time, how would she ever find Harry?

As she stepped out into the crowded street, trying to figure out where to go and how to see Harry, she heard a commotion from behind her.

Ronnie turned around to see Crookshanks, running up towards her at great speed, while Miss Scamander stood in the door, desperately trying to call him back. She had out her wand, and had apparently been trying to use magic to stop the cat's escape (probably a harmless Stupefying Charm), but not been fast enough.

"You couldn't hit the broad side of a barn!" came the Jarvey's voice from inside, over the new cacophony of animal sounds that had broken out.

Miss Scamander lifted her wand again, and then seemed to draw the same conclusion that Ronnie had: In this crowd it would be impossible for her to hit Crookshanks with any sort of spell, and not hit one or more innocent bystanders.

"Crookshanks!" she called, but to no avail; the only thing that happened was that a number of witches and wizards turned towards her to see what was going on, and Crookshanks moved into the crowd.

It took Ronnie about half a second to make up her mind. "I'll get him, Miss Scamander!" she yelled, and ducked into the crowd to follow the cat.

It was harder for her than it was for him; he was small enough to slink around people's legs (and somehow always avoided being stepped on), while she kept bumping into people and had to apologise again and again, wishing that she knew how to do a Summoning charm — no, wait, that didn't work on living creatures, did it?

Strangely enough, while Crookshanks could easily have sped up enough to completely slip away from her, but he stayed within sight — just out of reach. Even when a helpful wizard tried catching him, he deftly avoided the hands but stopped to turn back and look at Ronnie.

"All right, all right, I get it," Ronnie finally said as they made their way to a less crowded side-street, leaving the befuddled helpful wizard behind. "You want me to follow you!"

Crookshanks flicked his bottle-brush tail and then bolted down past an apothecary and down the alleyway, which wasn't crowded at all. In fact, it seemed to be almost empty, the few witches and wizards there looking definitely, well, dodgy. Not to say creepy. Which certainly fit the surroundings; this side-street seemed to be filled with shops dedicated, in one way or another, to the Dark Arts. All the shop windows had cheerful little displays of shrunken heads, poisoned candles, huge black spiders and ancient artifacts that looked like they'd been made solely for the purpose of looking evil and nasty.

He stopped in the middle of the street, and once again turned to look back at Ronnie, as if to say: Aren't you coming?

Ronnie suppressed a groan. This cat was bonkers - he was running straight into Knockturn Alley, the most infamous street in the British wizarding world, and expecting her to follow. Rumour had it that at least one beastly murder took place here every week, and even if that wasn't true the shops were bursting with so many cursed items and dangerous magics that it was said nobody could be certain to leave Knockturn Alley in the same shape that they'd entered it.

Mum had expressively forbidden Ronnie to ever set foot in that street.

Then again... she'd met You-Know-Who. She'd been Imperiused (no, don't think about the Imperius!) and she'd survived. What could Knockturn Alley hold that was worse? Besides, was she a Gryffindor or wasn't she?

"Crookshanks!" she said, marching up into Knockturn Alley, trying to look like she wasn't afraid at all (and wishing she'd had Harry's Invisibility Cloak). "You come here right now - stop that!" she added, because now Crookshanks was moving again, running down the twisting, turning alleyway until he stopped by the largest, gloomiest-looking shop of them all.

Ronnie followed as best as she could, but had to stop on the way as, all of a sudden a shabby-looking wizard stepped out of the shadows and stood in front of her. He wasn't that much taller than her, but she still took an involuntary step backwards; his hair was matted and greasy, his face unshaven, and as his lips split in a creepy grin, he bared a set of distinctly yellow teeth.

"Hello there," he said in a raspy voice. "What's a sweet little girl like you doing in a place like this?"

"Looking for someone to kick in the balls!" said Ronnie, straightening herself and putting on her fiercest expression. "Volunteering, are you?"

He frowned, his grin turning into a sneer. "Fiery head and fiery temper," he snarled. "You should show some respect for your elders — ow!"

The sudden "ow" came from the fact that Crookshanks, having doubled back from the shop, had pounced on his leg and sank his claws into the man's ankle. He swore and kicked out, but Crookshanks jumped aside, his bottle-brush tail fluffing out so much it seemed three times thicker. He arched his back and hissed at the man warningly, trying to get between him and Ronnie.

"Fucking cat!" He suddenly had a wand in his hand, pointing it at Crookshanks.

"Leave him alone!" Ronnie acted on pure instinct; she lunged at the man and kicked. He clearly hadn't been expecting this, and so — just like Uncle Vernon a few weeks ago — his eyes bulged as her foot made painful contact with his groin. He dropped his wand and sank to his knees, clearly trying to breathe.

A shrieking, cackling laughter sounded from the other side of the street. An aged witch, holding a tray with contents Ronnie didn't particularly care to speculate about, was watching the scene and loudly expressing her glee at the sight. "Good show, dearie! Good show!" she cackled.

Ronnie decided to ignore her and instead scooped Crookshanks up in her arms. "All right," she told him. "I appreciate that you wanted to protect me, but I wouldn't have needed it if you hadn't taken me here in the first place! Now, let's get out of here!"

Crookshanks bapped her on the nose with a soft paw. Then he looked pointedly at the shop they were standing outside.

The dirty sign above the window helpfully (or perhaps warningly) informed that this was Borgin and Burkes, and through the window Ronnie could see that it was full of creepy-looking things; a blood-stained pack of cards, a staring glass eye, evil-looking masks on the walls, rusty iron instruments with sharp spikes hanging from the ceiling, and what looked suspiciously like a pile of human bones on the counter, behind which a stooping, oily-looking wizard was bowing and scraping for a tall man with blonde hair, who was just turning to walk out, and —

Ronnie blinked. The boy next to the man, with the same pale complexion and blonde hair, happened to be someone she knew and loathed.

She looked about to see if there were any places to hide, but it was too late; the boy had spotted her, and the next moment the door opened and he exited the shop to step up towards her.

"Weasley," he said, in a voice that revealed that he loathed her just as much as she loathed him.

"Malfoy," Ronnie answered through gritted teeth.

"What are you doing, skulking around here?" said Draco Malfoy. His eyes fell on Crookshanks. "And who's this, your sister? I can see why everyone says she's the looker of the family. She's much less hairy than you, that's for certain."

Crookshanks glared at him and made a growling sound deep in his throat.

"Got ten times the brains of you, too!" Ronnie snapped. It wasn't much of a comeback, but she really wasn't in the mood to deal with Malfoy on top of everything else. "Sod off, Malfoy!"

"Ah, the traditional Weasley lack of manners," came the silky voice of the blonde-haired man, who had stepped out behind Malfoy. Ronnie had never met this man before, but knew at once who he was; this was Draco Malfoy's father, Lucius Malfoy.

He looked pretty much like she'd imagined him; a larger, older version of his son with the fanciest robes Ronnie had ever seen and a seemingly-permanent expression on his face that hinted that as far as he was concerned, the entire world was inferior to him.

"So," he said, looking coolly at Ronnie. "You're Arthur Weasley's daughter. Draco has told me so much about you." His tone of voice left no room for doubt that none of the things he'd been told had been good. "Your parents allow you to run around Knockturn Alley? I wish I could say I was shocked, but knowing your irresponsible father —"

"She's a fucking loony!" the shabby wizard groaned as he unsteadily got back to his feet. "She kicked me right in the nads!"

"Doesn't surprise me in the slightest," said Mr. Malfoy, with no apparent sympathy. "Certain families have no idea how to teach their children how to behave. I do feel for poor Harry Potter, staying with such a poor excuse for a wizard family."

"At least we aren't Death Eaters who bribed our way out of Azkaban!" Ronnie snarled.

Draco Malfoy turned red with anger. "I ought to hex you for that, Weasley!"

"Draco!" his father snapped at him, before looking at Ronnie with a contempt much colder and more dispassionate than his son's; the expression was that of a man who's just seen a particularly annoying insect he longs to crush between his fingers. "There's no point in getting your hands dirty. People such as her always meet the end they deserve."

Crookshanks growled at him, angrily swishing his tail back and forth.

And then, all of a sudden, a gruff voice called out from the other end of the street. "Oi! What's goin' on here?"

Ronnie turned, and her heart leapt with joy as she saw who had spoken. He towered over everyone, and with his wild black hair and beard, and moleskin overcoat, he looked at least twice as dangerous as any other patron of Knockturn Alley — but Ronnie immediately felt safe knowing that he was here.

"Hagrid!" she called, wanting to wave at him but being hindered by an armful of Crookshanks. The Malfoys looked surprised, and the shabby wizard made a slight squeaky noise and ran off before Hagrid came up to them.

Because now the huge man was heading towards them, with long strides. "Ronnie!" he said. "What're yeh doin' here? Dangerous place ter be wanderin' about, this!" He looked at the Malfoys, and then back at Ronnie. "Have these two done anythin' ter yeh?"

For the first time, Mr. Malfoy lost his cool. "Do I look like I touch filth?!" he spat furiously. "Come, Draco! Let's not waste our time here anymore!" And with that, he grabbed Draco's arm and dragged him off.

No sooner had he left before the door to Borgin and Burkes opened again, and out stepped — Harry. He looked sooty and dishevelled, and the bridge on his glasses had broken so he had to hold them together with his hands, but otherwise he seemed unhurt, and he brightened when he saw Hagrid and Ronnie.

"Hagrid! Ronnie! Am I glad to see you!" Relief was apparent in his voice. "I got lost in the Floo — where are we?"

"Nowhere yeh should be skulkin' about, either o' yeh," said Hagrid. "C'mon, I'll take yeh back ter Diagon Alley."

"Yes, please," said Harry, and then blinked, adjusted his glasses and looked at Crookshanks. "Whose cat is that?" he said curiously.

Crookshanks looked back at him, half-closed his eyes and began purring loudly. It was almost as if he was proud of himself. And a thought entered Ronnie's head: Had he guided her to Borgin and Burkes on purpose because he wanted to help her find Harry? But no, that was silly — how could Crookshanks have known where Harry was, or that she was looking for Harry in the first place? Animals often had surprising abilities, but still...

She didn't have time to think about it, because now Hagrid appeared to think they'd stayed in Knockturn Alley for long enough, and he gently but firmly steered them both back down the twisting alleyway towards the safety of Diagon Alley.

As they walked, Harry told the story of how he'd ended up inside Borgin and Burkes:

Like Miss Scamander had surmised, he'd fallen out of the wrong grate and found himself in a very unpleasant place, which had turned out to be Borgin and Burkes. Since the owner had been in the back room and hadn't noticed the arrival, he'd planned on sneaking out and go look for Diagon Alley and the Weasleys, but just then Malfoy and his father had shown up. Not wanting to confront Malfoy in his current state, he'd hidden in a conveniently-placed cabinet and stayed there while the Malfoys talked to Mr. Borgin, the shopkeeper.

"Looked like a nasty place," said Ronnie. "What were they buying? A pet Lethifold, or a self-chopping guillotine?"

"They weren't buying at all, they were selling," said Harry. "They mentioned your father a few times, actually. Mr. Malfoy said that now that Arthur Weasley was losing that Muggle Protection Act, he'd probably strike down harder in other areas, and that he didn't want to risk certain things being discovered in his home. I think he said something about poisons."

"Those Malfoys," Hagrid growled. "Rotten ter the core. An' all those things they said abou' yeh in the Daily Prophet!"

"Dad'll be interested to hear about those poisons, at least, I bet he'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something," said Ronnie, and couldn't help feeling a certain glee at the thought that her Dad might get the Malfoys into real trouble.

By now they'd reached the far sunnier and more crowded Diagon Alley, right by the apothecary that Crookshanks had ducked behind, and Hagrid declared that Harry looked "a righ' mess" and brushed the worst soot of him so forcefully that he nearly fell over. Ronnie quickly took a step back, hoping that Hagrid wouldn't decide she looked too sooty too.

"I'd better get Crookshanks back to the Magical Menagerie," she said, somewhat reluctantly. She was really starting to like this odd cat, who was purring contentedly in her arms, but she knew he wasn't hers. "And then we'd better find the family. Mum's probably beside herself with worry now."

Harry, who had caught his breath again after Hagrid's brushing, looked at Crookshanks again through his broken glasses. "That's the strangest cat I've seen. Is he magical?" he asked curiously.

Ronnie looked at him. "Dunno," she admitted. "The Magical Menagerie has all sorts of animals, magical ones too, but —"

"Lemme see that." Hagrid bent down to take a better look at Crookshanks. "Don' usually like cats much, they make me sneeze summat awful, but..." He broke into a wide grin behind his bushy beard. "But this 'un's no normal cat! See the large ears, the speckles in 'is fur? Half-Kneazle, if I'm any judge!"

"Oh!" Ronnie gasped. Suddenly a lot of things made sense. "Then maybe he did know where you were, Harry!"

Not for the first time that day, Harry looked like he had no clue about anything that was said. "Er," he said. "What's a half-Kneazle?"

"Part cat, part Kneazle, of course!" said Ronnie.

"Right. And you might be able to guess my next question, then..."

"A Kneazle's a magic animal, Harry," said Hagrid. "Like a cat, 'cept different. Ruddy smart beasts, understand anythin' yeh say, can find their way anywhere. Reckon a Kneazle's even better at findin' lost people than a dog is. Never get lost either, can always find their way home."

"Most animals can always find their way home," said Ronnie. "Even normal cats."

"Yeah, well, true," said Hagrid. "Kneazles are extra good at it, though. Smart buggers, like I said. Always seem ter know it if someone can be trusted or not, too."

"He certainly didn't like the Malfoys, or that creepy bloke," said Ronnie.

"There yeh are, then! An' they can breed with cats, so there's lotsa half-Kneazles about! Cheaper than pure-bred Kneazles, but almost as smart, an' much easier ter pass off as normal cats, if yeh happen ter live close ter Muggles!"

"So you heard me telling Miss Scamander that I was looking for Harry, and wanted to help, did you?" Ronnie stroked Crookshanks. "You're sweet! Oh, I wish I didn't have to take you back to the shop."

Crookshanks took a firm grip on her coat with his claws and didn't look like he wanted to let go to soon. Bugger the shop, I'm staying with you, he seemed to be saying.

"But I can't afford you, Crookshanks!" Ronnie felt a lump in her throat, and was surprised at herself. She always had animals follow her and falling for her, and usually ended up having to leave them behind. She was used to it; why would she start crying for this particular animal?

"I can," Harry suddenly said. "I think I probably have enough money on me. Not like there was a lot to spend it on at the Dursleys'."

Ronnie's heart skipped a beat. "Could you — lend me the money?" she asked, hesitant but hopeful. She hated asking for loans (the Weasleys had their pride, after all!), but right here and right now... she could make an exception.

Harry grinned."I can do you one better," he said. "I didn't get you anything last Christmas, remember?"

"Other than saving me from You-Know-Who?"

"You saved me from the Dursleys, so we're even there. Come on."

Ten minutes later, Ronnie and Harry stepped out of the Magical Menagerie, Ronnie carrying a delighted Crookshanks.

Miss Scamander had been very happy when they had returned with Crookshanks and even happier when Ronnie had asked how much he cost. She'd sold him for a price that Ronnie suspected was far below what he was really worth; either because she was happy to be rid of him, or because she was happy that Ronnie was the one who got him, or possibly both. The Galleons Harry'd had in his pockets (he went around with several Galleons in his pocket!) had been enough not only for Crookshanks but also for a large bag of the owl treats he'd promised Hedwig.

Hagrid was waiting for them outside — and so, to their pleasant surprise, were the rest of the Weasleys, who all brightened up at the sight of them.

"Look who I found!" said Hagrid.

That was all anyone had the time to say before Mum wrapped her arms around Ronnie in a hug that squeezed poor Crookshanks a little more than he really appreciated, and said in a voice almost exactly between anger and relief: "You never, ever do anything like that again, Veronica Weasley!"

"Mum — you're squeezing Crookshanks!" Ronnie tried.

"Crookshanks?" Mum let go and stared at the cat as if she hadn't properly noticed him for the first time. "Great heavens, child! Are you saying you're planning on keeping that — that —" She was apparently searching for words.

"Half-Kneazle," said Ronnie. and then hurried to add: "He helped me find Harry, and he won't be any trouble, I'll take him with me to Hogwarts! And I don't have any other pets right now, and you know I'll take good care of him..."

Ronnie knew that Mum deep down was proud of her daughter's way with animals, even if she had often complained about the various creatures Ronnie had been trekking home to the Burrow. And Crookshanks, who was clearly living up to his reputation as a smart bugger, had almost immediately decided that this lady was someone it paid to be friends with. And so he purred and rubbed his head against Mum's arm, looking as cute as he could manage.

Mum relented. "Oh — well, I suppose," she said. "But I want you to be on your best behaviour this year, is that clear? And if I ever see you near Knockturn Alley again —"

"George," said Fred dramatically. "The time has come for us to face reality. We are no longer the problem children of the family. Look what our dear little sister's getting up to these days; stealing cars, hobnobbing with Dark wizards in Knockturn Alley. How could we possibly top that?"

"We can't," George sighed. "We'd better start studying and become respectable like Percy. Didn't I hear some rumour going about that we were taking our OWLs next year? Maybe we should actually try doing well on them."

"Let's not get carried away!" said Fred. "Come to think of it, being in second place isn't too bad! If Ron becomes the black sheep of the family, anything we do will seem that much less horrible."

"True, true. Maybe we can even blow up that toilet this year and not get any Howlers from Mum about it."

"If you think you're being funny —" Percy began.

"We know we're being funny, Perce," said Fred. "It's not our fault you're so slow to catch on."

Percy huffed, but nobody paid too much attention to him, because everyone was checking that Harry was all right, and saying hello to Crookshanks. If Ronnie had ever doubted that her family were on the whole good people, she got ample proof of it now, because Crookshanks amiably accepted pettings and scratching from them all. He even licked Dad's hand at that point, though this might be because there had been bacon for breakfast.

"Well," said Hagrid. "Now that yeh're back with the family, I'd best be off. Got a bit more shoppin' ter do."

"Thank you for taking care of them, Hagrid!" said Mum.

"Always happy ter help, yeh know that. Say hello ter Charlie, if yeh talk ter him! So long, Harry — Ronnie!"

Harry waved to Hagrid as he made his way down the street, while Ronnie presented Crookshanks to Ginny, the only one who hadn't properly greeted him yet.

Ginny had always liked cats, and was delighted to pet Crookshanks's fluffy fur - but after Crookshanks had closed his eyes and rubbed his head against her hand for a bit, he stopped, sniffed out in the air and turned his head to stare downwards towards Ginny's coat pocket. A low, growling sound rose in his throat.

"What's wrong?!" said Ronnie, surprised. Did the cat suddenly decide that he didn't like Ginny?

"Uh-oh." Ginny took a step back. "He's looking at the pocket Scabbers is in."

"Oh. Smelling a rat, are you?" Ronnie breathed a sigh of relief. It would be awful if Crookshanks had taken a dislike to her little sister, but if it was Scabbers he sensed, that was all right... and then she suddenly felt guilty. She hadn't remembered Scabbers at all when falling for Crookshanks, and hadn't thought about how he'd probably be sleeping in her room where Scabbers's cage was. But a cat and a rat in the same room, that was just asking for trouble, no matter how smart the cat was.

"Keep him away from Scabbers!" said Ginny, taking a few more steps back. Crookshanks followed her with his eyes, tensing in Ronnie's arms.

"Crookshanks, no snacking on Ginny's rat!" said Ronnie firmly.

The cat turned his head and gave her a look that could mean anything. His tail was flicking agitatedly against her hip.

"I think I'll just stay a bit away from you and that cat while we're here," said Ginny, ducking behind Percy.

"Well," said Dad with forced cheerfulness. "Now that we're all back together, we'd better pay Gringotts a visit, and then we have some school supplies to buy! Besides," he added with a bit more genuine cheer, "the Grangers will be waiting for us!"

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's Notes: I'll admit it, Crookshanks is my favourite animal character from the series (though Fawkes is a clear second), and I've really been looking forward to introducing him. I'll admit to taking a slight inspiration from Harry Potter and the Nightmares of Futures Past, where Crookshanks becomes Ron's pet... it's just such a surprisingly good fit that I couldn't resist letting Ronnie have him in this story. Scabbers is in trouble now...

For those of you not getting Ronnie's "pet Lethifold" comment; a Lethifold is an African creature and a sort of cousin to the Dementor - but where Dementors feed on happy emotions and souls, Lethifolds seek out sleeping people to suffocate them and digest them whole.

The Jarvey's in this chapter because I've basically always wanted to include a Jarvey in an HP story, and here was my chance.