Getting Familiar

Getting Familiar

Boxing Day, 1997

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Today was the day. The end of her eternal struggle, the end of the sentence she'd spent more than her share of lifetimes paying. Of course, she wanted to celebrate, of course she wanted to have one last bit of fun in her own little way. She was sick of the stupid life of following students around, pointing out everything they ever did wrong. She was sick of the stupid names she'd received from her various 'keepers'. This was the worst. Mrs. Norris. What sort of name was that for a cat? She'd had everything from Tibbles to Fluffy, but Mrs. Norris. Her name had never been Norris, not ever. Heck, even the Saxons never had names like that. She pushed through the door into the broom cupboard under the Astronomy Tower stairs. Freedom was only a declaration away.

"NORRIS!" She could have sworn her fur was blown back flat. Faux was really angry. She hadn't heard him this angry since the Norman invasion; even Falkirk had only made him mildly miffed. She slinked by the door a little slower. Perhaps freedom wasn't as forthcoming as she'd hoped.

"Norris, explain yourself!" Faux had gathered the entire collective membership of Familiars for the Unification and Cooperation of the Students of Hogwarts. An anagram was out of the question, so most of them just called it the Union. This was not good, not at all.

"E-explain what, Sir?"

"You know very well what, Norris, I know you're not stupid. But after last night, I really do wonder." Faux puffed himself up to his full size. Here they went again. "Even in the days when I was the favored pet of Godric Gryffindor himself did I see such insolence on the part of student OR familiar!" He loved bringing that up, it was getting very, very monotonous.

"Shouldn't you be discussing how you're going to get Gryffindor and Slytherin to kiss and make up, not worrying whether I made it to the litter box in time?" Mrs. Norris knew very well that wasn't what he meant, curse him. He'd found out.

"Shut up Norris, do you want to spend another thousand years in the service of the school? No? Then I suggest you cooperate. Need I remind you who exactly cause this disunification in the first place?" Faux bent forward and frowned at her. She could feel the heat radiating off his feathers. Oh to have died a millennia ago like any other cat. Time as Rowena Ravenclaw's cat had been so much more pleasant. Long walks, long petting sessions and random fun when the Mistress wasn't looking. How was she supposed to know Salazar Slytherin actually owned the Death Adder in Rowena's bathtub? Heck how was she even to know it wasn't Rowena's bathtub? She let loose an evil grin.

"I don't know what you find so funny Norris, that Adder was far less trouble than the Familiar he got hold of afterward."

Oh, she remembered, she remembered all too well. The day that Basilisk was slain she'd almost left Filch and prostituted herself to the pettings of one Harry James Potter. But then that would have meant another thousand years. Stupid irony.

"Can we get on with the punishment please? I want to know how's she's going to wriggle out of this one." Crookshanks grinned almost as evilly as she did. He was the reason she was here. Trust him to grass her up. Honestly, she plays one little joke with some scotch whiskey and a kong full of catnip and she's branded for life. Cries of accent came from all about her, the owls screeched in a din that she could barely handle. Trevor the toad was hopping about randomly with excitement.

"Shush the lot of you. Very well Crookshanks, put forward your charges."

Crookshanks swaggered forward, oh so very proud of himself. Just a minute, she knew that swagger. No cat ever lived a thousand years without getting to know the 'been out on the prowl' swagger. They just couldn't help it, male cats. They swaggered around as if they'd conquered the world. They didn't have to give birth to eight kittens, oh no. If they did, they'd have a lot less swaggering to do. After the ninety-eight litters she'd had over the years, Mrs. Norris was surprised she could even walk.

"I charge that Mrs. Norris has corrupted my dinner with whiskey."

Even Faux rolled his beady birdie eyes, "Is that all? You said she'd managed to disrupt the natural order of things." Mrs. Norris knew what was coming though, she knew all too well. Here comes another thousand years in the service of squib caretakers, stalking children in their wrongdoings. She tucked her tail under her backside and waited.

"She has." If you could see past the fur, Crookshanks would have been bright red. No cat swaggered for nothing. "You see, there was this other cat hanging around at the time and..."

"Please, don't go on. I can guess." Faux seemed to have jumped about a month closer to a burning day from just the image that was caught in his head. Even Mrs. Norris, who had guessed what was coming, had to retreat to her mental happy place to stop from losing the cat food she'd had for breakfast.

"In that case. Mrs. Norris, I Faux the Phoenix, before all here present, hereby sentence you to..."

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New Years Day, 1998

Hogwarts Grounds

"But Hagrid, why me?" Hermione Granger walked toward the shabby hut Hagrid called home. As the only Care of Magical Creatures teacher left, he was charged with the care of everything animal in Hogwarts. "Wouldn't Madame Pomfrey have been..."

"Oh no, 'Ermione, Madam Pomfrey would not 'ave been be'er. I know you're good with cats, and this is a rather delicate problem. She trusts you, too."

She? She? If he'd gotten hold of a Lamia, she was going to have to tell Dumbledore. And why did he ask her to bring Crookshanks, surely Lamias didn't eat cat meat.

"She's just very sensitive that's all. Just needed to be sure." Hagrid pushed his door open and Hermione braced herself. She didn't mind helping Hagrid of course, but she was scared. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Crookshanks had gotten a little friendly with one of the Hufflepuff cats.

Professor McGonagall looked tiny in Hagrid's massive armchair, clutching a steaming mug of tea in her hands. She took one look at Hermione and squealed. The tea toppled to the wooden floor as Crookshanks shrieked and bolted back out the door, only to be caught by the tail by Hagrid.

"M-miss Granger." The Professor said shakily.

"Now, Professor, if you'll just turn back into a cat we'll take a look at ye."

As Hermione watched her Transfigurations professor turn slowly into feline form, it dawned on her just what was really going on.

"CROOKSHANKS!"