A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words
A Strange Mood

There was a level of weirdness at her parents letting her go and get her school supplies on her own. Yet, Hermione knew full well when they dropped her off just outside of the Leaky Cauldron so she could purchase her school supplies that her parents accompanying her wasn't an option, not after what happened the last time. They weren't, though, dropping her off at the station either.

"Too many newspapers," her mother muttered. "I don't want to excite your father, what with that escaped prisoner they've not yet caught."

Hermione gave her mother a half-hearted smile. "You know that he knows, right? That something is going on, but he knows precisely because you've hidden the paper from him and refused to let him watch the news lately."

"I know that he knows," her mother responded, smiling at her. "And he also knows I wouldn't hide the paper or keep the news turned off for no reason, but he'd be even more anxious, I think if he knew there was a prisoner on the loose."

"He'd be even more anxious knowing that prisoner is a wizard, not a Muggle," Hermione muttered.

"What was that, dear?"

"Nothing," Hermione said.

So they'd dropped her off, her mother placing the money for buying school supplies firmly in her hand, smiling at her as she did so. At the same time, her father sat in the passenger side of the car, in the right mood at that particular moment and saying nothing. However, Hermione couldn't be sure what was putting him into a spirit right then, let alone what kind of conversation he and her mother had regarding school supplies and escaped prisoners.

Hermione looked down at her hand, frowning, her mind calculating the exchange rate. "Wait. This is too much."

"It's not," her father piped up, staring out the front window as he sat there with his hands shoved up his sleeves to keep himself calm. "If each of your books cost a couple of Galleon…."

"This is more than sixteen Galleons, dad," Hermione said.

"And in case one of them is the price of those ridiculous books from last year," her father continued muttering,"

"Which brings it to, I don't know," Hermione closed her eyes. "Nineteen? This is still way more than that," Hermione frowned.

"At least twenty-five," her father said. "Leaving…."

And then he stopped, Hermione's mother placing a hand on his shoulder which made her father turn and look at his wife while still sitting there, legs were drawn up, not a word coming out of his mouth. Hermione's mother turned to her, smiling. "Happy birthday. You should at least have five, maybe six galleons to get yourself something nice, if not a bit more."

"To show support," her dad muttered, turning to look out the passenger window rather than the driver's window.

Hermione watched her mother sigh. "Never mind your dad. You know how he can get sometimes, but he does want you to have something nice for your birthday."

"Right," her father said, still not looking at Hermione.

"So, you take care, dear. You're quite capable, you know. Almost fourteen, now, right?"

"I, yes," Hermione said, nodding her head. "And thank you for the birthday present."

She'd gotten Crookshanks, much to the dismay of her friend Ron who didn't like that she'd gotten the half-Kneazle from the pet store that had attacked Ron, or more of Crookshanks tried attacking Ron's rat, Scabbers. Of course, there was a potential issue with that, not to mention she wanted to call her parents and let them know how the shopping trip went, along with checking up on her dad, so Mr. Weasley accompanied her to the telephone box.

"Hello?"

"Hermione?" her mother said on the other side of the phone.

"I'm calling to let you know the trip went well and see how dad's doing," she said.

"Tell them I say hi," Mr. Weasley said.

"Oh," Hermione said, turning to look at the man. "Mr. Weasley, Ron's dad, says hello."

"Oh, he does, does he?" She heard her mother then said, "Mr. Weasley. The chap we talked to the last time. I—oh."

And then, " Hermione? "

"Hi, dad. Just wanted to see how you're doing and that the shopping for school supplies went well, okay?"

"I'm okay," her father said, sounding tired, but then there was the known stress of being near Diagon Alley, let alone whatever was in the news her mother wasn't letting her know about, and that was him not being exposed to either thing. "Did you get yourself a birthday present?"

"Yes," Hermione said, pushing her lips together. She said, "I hope the two of you aren't mad at me for—well, I kind of got a cat."

"A kitty?" And then there was an energy to his voice. "What kind of kitty?"

"What kind of kitty?" Hermione said as she heard in the background her mother saying, "She got what?"

"A half-Kneazle, I do believe," Mr. Weasley said. "You can tell them they're very intelligent creatures, can tell if someone is trustworthy or not, but that he's a rather lovely cat."

"Uh, intelligent and able to tell if someone is trustworthy," Hermione said. "A fluffy ginger."

"Am I trustworthy?"

Hermione's eyes blinked, a bit taken aback by her father's odd question, but over the years, she'd heard him say some strange things, being different as he was. "Of course, you are, dad." She let out a laugh. "I think you'll like him, knowing you like very fluffy things."

"I do love fluffy animals," her dad said. Then, "Huh? Oh. Your mum wants to know how you got the beauty."

"Well, we were getting a tonic for Ron's rat when Crookshanks jumped him."

"Wait? Ron's not trustworthy?"

"Um, no," Hermione laughed. "It's a cat, dad. He was after Ron's rat."

"So, the rat's not trustworthy?"

"Dad!" Hermione let out a laugh, hearing her mother say something.

"Yeah. Your mom thinks I'm being ridiculous as well."

"Well, since Crookshanks doesn't like Scabbers, I promised Ron I'll keep him away."

Silence. Then, " Wait. You 're going to keep a cat away from a rat? "

"Yeah. I've a nice wicker basket for him."

"Why isn't the rat in a wicker basket?"

"Well, because the rat isn't attacking anybody?"

"Yes, but a rat can be controlled more than a cat can, right?" her father said before following up. "Why isn't your friend taking better care of his rat?"

"Why isn't Ron," Hermione sighed. "Dad, that's unfair."

"What did he say?" Mr. Weasley said.

Hermione covered the mouth of the phone, so she could freely speak, hearing her father say it was perfectly fair while saying to Ron's father, "My dad thinks Ron should take better care of his rat."

Mr. Weasley was startled, then said. "That's all?"

"Yes. That, and he thinks it is unfair to confine a cat because," Hermione said. "Well, they're a cat."

"Well, he's right," Mr. Weasley said. "What does Ron expect? For you to keep Crookshanks confined to your dorm room? Oh! Tell your parents we're taking you to King's Cross tomorrow."

"Oh. Yeah," Hermione said, going into how she would be going with the Weasley family, and the ministry would be providing a couple of cars, which her father found strange. Still, as she spoke, she avoided saying little to nothing about magic, which her mother thanked her for once she got back on, telling her that her father was now in a good mood, looking forward to seeing the kitty when they saw her next. Hermione smiled, remembering how her father wanted to bring the kittens home. "I'm sure he will, but tell him Crookshanks isn't a kitten. Nobody wanted him."

"Oh dear," her mother laughed. "He's going to be even more in love with that cat, Hermione."

"Yeah. That would be dad," Hermione said before hanging up, putting her in a better mood. Things felt alright when they got onto the Hogwarts express the next day, even though she knew there was an escaped prisoner—a wizard out and about.

And then—

"Granger! Can I talk to you!" a familiar voice called out.

"Great," Ron muttered, clutching Scabbers under his shirt tightly. "It's Creevey."