The Cat Who Was Crazy About Catnip

Professor Blaise Zabini was standing near the fireplace of the Great Hall of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a trunk in his right hand, a crate in his left. He was smiling to his companion, who was a man of athletic build, with bright blue eyes and blonde hair, and from the waist down - a large, graceful palomino horse. He was holding his hand on Blaise's shoulder. The large, vaulted hall, its ceiling looking like cloudy blue sky, was empty. There was no one at any of the tables in the hall - four very long ones, standing side by side, and a smaller one, standing crosswise to the first four. The term has ended, the students were all off on the summer holidays, and Blaise was leaving Hogwarts for his summer holidays too. His friend and colleague, the Divination teacher, came to see him off.

'Happy holidays to you, Blaise Zabini,' the centaur said.

'Thank you, Firenze.' Blaise smiled.

'And will you do me a service? You are going to Aberdeen; will you buy me at Gallipot's a bottle of the Spirit of Melissa? It is a very good tonic, they say, and I feel very exhausted with all this teaching. They say Gallipot's is the only place in Britain where it can be found,' Firenze said. 'Will you bring it?'

'Of course, Firenze,' Blaise said. 'You're my friend, I'll do my best.'

'Thank you. You are the only one of my acquaintance who pronounces my name right, by the way,' Firenze said.

'It is because Italian is one of my native languages,' Blaise said. 'Firenze is the true name of the beautiful city that the English and the French call Florence, I know it.'

'Yes.' Firenze smiled. 'My ancestors were from that land, Blaise Zabini.'

'I thought so,' Blaise said. 'Well, stay well, Renze. I will get the thing.'

'Good-bye, Blaise Zabini,' Firenze said, smiling at the Italian nickname.

'Good-bye, Firenze,' Blaise said, took a pinch of green powder out of a box on the mantelpiece, threw the powder into the fireplace, said, 'Tappit Hen Inn,' and stepped into the fireplace. He felt a dizziness, a swirling, and then saw before himself a hall with dark oak panels, a Persian carpet on the dark oak floor, fine wooden chairs with red upholstery and a counter behind which was a short, plump red-haired wizard with brown eyes and in red robes.

'Good evening, Malcolm,' Blaise said.

'Guid forenicht, Professor Zabini,' the receptionist said. 'Weelcom back.'

'Thank you, Malcolm.' Blaise smiled. 'Tell me, is the Red Room free?'

'Aye, it is, Professor,' Malcolm said.

'Here's the money,' Blaise said, taking several gold coins out of his pocket.

'Verra weel,' Malcolm said. 'An' here's the key. Professor Zabini. Pleasant vacation.'

'Thank you.' Blaise smiled. 'Evening.'

'Forenicht, Professor Zabini,' Malcolm said.

Blaise went to the old wooden stairs to the hall of the first floor, also paneled, with Persian carpets and antique chairs and rows of large, heavy oak doors. Blaise went to one of them, opened the door with the key Malcolm gave him and went in. The room was furnished with panels, tapestries, old chairs and Persian carpets. Blaise put the crate on the floor and opened it, and instantly a red lean tom Kneazle with spots, outsize ears, tasseled tail, long whiskers enormous green eyes leapt out of the crate and said loudly, 'Yaow!'

'Yes, yes, Macavity, I know you are glad we got to our destination at last,' Blaise said. 'I am too, I don't like Floo either.'

He began to unpack, first Macavity's saucer, putting liver and oatmeal into it, and then his books, clothes and utensils. As Blaise was finishing unpacking, Macavity jumped on the shelf with Blaise's books and dislodged a book about herbs. Blaise came to pick the book up and saw that the book was opened on the pages about the catnip. Blaise smiled:

'Want your 'nip, Macavity? I will give some to you later, alright?'

Blaise finished unpacking, went to the fireplace, took some Floo powder from an usual box on the mantelpiece, threw the powder into the fireplace, said, 'Gallipot's', and stepped into the fireplace. After the ordinary dizziness he found himself in a dark room with wooden floor, walls and ceiling, a long counter along one wall and shelves with rows of dust-covered bottles up to the ceiling. The air of the room was full of herb fragrance, and a tall, thin, gray-haired wizard in violet robes was standing behind the counter. Blaise stepped out of the fireplace and went to the counter. The wizard at the counter looked at him, smiled and said:

'Och, Professor Zabini! Glad tae see ye.'

'Glad to see you too, Mr. Gallipot,' Blaise said.

'Hoo can Ah help ye?' Mr. Gallipot asked.

'Can I have a bottle of Spiritus Melissae?' Blaise asked. Mr. Gallipot answered:

'Certes, Professor Zabini. Ah'll fetch it.'

He searched on the shelves, took a bottle, carried it to the counter and put the bottle on the counter.

'Mr. Gallipot?' another wizard asked.

'Aye, aye,' Mr. Gallipot said, searched on the shelves again, took another bottle and put it on the counter. At this moment a hoot sounded. Blaise looked in the direction of the sound and saw a gray owl that flew into the room. Blaise smiled:

'A nice gray owl, Mr. Gallipot.

'Aye, he is.' Mr. Gallipot smiled. 'His name is Niall. He's a verra gleg burd.'

Mr. Gallipot fiddled with the bottles, as he was saying this. Then another wizard put the money on the counter, took the bottle and left the apothecary's shop. Blaise paid to Mr. Gallipot too, took the remaining bottle and left the apothecary's. Back in his bedroom, he put the bottle on the dressing table and then noticed something wrong. He opened the bottle and took a quick sniff.

'Merlin's beard!' he exclaimed, closed the bottle again quickly and in two minutes he was in Gallipot's again. Mr. Gallipot was surprised to see him.

'Whit's the maitter, Professor Zabini?' Mr. Gallipot asked. Blaise put the bottle on the counter and said:

'Mr. Gallipot, you must have sold me a bottle of the Draught of Living Death instead of a bottle of the Spirit of Melissa.'

Mr. Gallipot looked at the bottle, opened it and sniffed the content, closed the bottle again and said gravely:

'Aye, it definitely is the Draucht o' the Livin' Death, Professor Zabini. Ah'm sorry.'

'Can I have another bottle, then, Mr. Gallipot?' Blaise asked.

'Ah'm verra sorry, Professor Zabini, but it was the laist bottle,' Mr. Gallipot said.

'Quel diable!' Blaise blurted out, and then recovered and apologized:

'I beg your pardon, Mr. Gallipot, but the bottle wasn't for me. It was for my friend and colleague. He asked me to bring one, and I promised him I will.'

'It's naethin, Professor Zabini,' Mr. Gallipot said with sympathy. 'Ye had a' the reasons tae mention the Deil.'

Blaise smiled wryly:

'Thank you, Mr. Gallipot. But what am I to do now? I'll die of shame.'

'Wait a meenit, Professor Zabini,' Mr. Gallipot said. 'The aither chiel, he wanted the Draucht o' the Livin' Death. He maun hae ta'en yer bottle, an' ye his.'

'So he must.' Blaise nodded.

'He was Mr. Nepeta, frae Nine Birk Neuk,' Mr. Gallipot said. 'Whit wad he need it for?'

'I think I know,' Blaise said darkly.

He stepped to the fireplace, took a pinch of Floo powder and said, 'Nine Birk Neuk!' He entered the fireplace, and after the familiar dizziness he found himself in an old room, paneled with dark oak, with a blue carpet on the floor, old dark chairs with blue upholstery and a table, covered with snow-white tablecloth and two silver sets on it. At the table were sitting a dark-haired, handsome man in black, and a beautiful brown-haired girl with blue eyes, in gold robes.

'Here's to you, fair Fenella,' the man said.

He drank from his goblet, and the girl drank from hers. The man put his goblet down with a smile, as if waiting for something. Then his face darkened, and he threw all his weight in direction of the girl, but Blaise promptly took out his wand, pointed it at the man and said, 'Petrificus Totalus!' The man froze, and the girl recoiled and began to sob hysterically. Blaise said:

'Calm down, Miss Fenella, I came in time. Nepeta here obviously had a T, meaning Troll, in Potions. Only so he could mistake the answer to dear Severus's question, 'What you will get if you mix wormwood and the root of asphodel', with a mixture of Melissa, angelica, lemon, Muscat, coriander seed and cloves, the Spirit of Melissa with the Draught of Living Death.'

'What?' the girl exclaimed in horror.

'Yes,' Blaise said. 'He must have poured the liquor into your goblet, only he did not know that he carried from the Gallipot's the bottle of Spiritus Melissae, destined for me. Luckily for you, it was the last bottle in the shop, which I promised to get for my friend. In Corsica, where I was born, a promise is sacred. And we Corsicans do not tolerate villainy.'

'Here's to you, fair Fenella!' the girl said. 'Marcellus Nepeta, how could you!?'

Blaise returned to his room in the Tappit Hen Inn. Macavity met him with loud purrs.

'Yes, Macavity, you are inimitable.' Blaise smiled. 'But you still wanted catnip, too? Here you are.'

He went to the cupboard, took out a pinch of catnip and handed it to Macavity. The cat purred even more loudly in ecstasy.

When Blaise and Firenze met again, Blaise, after they embraced, said to Firenze:

'I got the Spirit of Melissa for you, Renze. But what an epic it was! You won't believe.'

'Let's go to my classroom, Blaise Zabini, and you shall tell me all about it,' Firenze said.

'A good idea. But let me tell you first, that I told of you to a beautiful brown-haired girl with blue eyes. Her name is Miss Fenella Wemyss. So if you meet her in Hogsmeade, don't be surprised.'

'I won't be.' Firenze laughed. 'You sly thing!'

'I'm a Slytherin, after all.' Blaise smiled.