User blog:Teleram/I wrote a Harry Potter fanfic

I wrote a Harry Potter fanfic, starring Hermione's cat, Crookshanks. It takes place in the third book, and for some ferked-up reason you haven't read/haven't finished reading the third book, then SPOILERS AHOY. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Crookshanks swished his tail back and forth as he crept up the stairs to the boys' bedrooms. He knew the rat wasn't what it was pretending to be, but all of his attempts to alert the humans to this fact had failed. "I don't know why I even bother," he muttered to himself. "I could get along fine without any of them. Let the rat do whatever it is it's trying to do. So long as Girl keeps feeding me and scratching my belly, I'll - hello, what's this?"

He could smell the rat. Its scent was like nothing Crookshanks had ever smelled, and for all his time living in a magical pet shop, he'd smelled a lot. The rat did smell like a rat, yes, but there was also something else. Something... human. It was just like that big black dog he'd met on the grounds the other day. Every instinct in him had screamed to run away, but there was that smell. And even Crookshanks knew what they said about cats and curiosity. The dog had turned out to be more than just a dog, and it had convinced Crookshanks to help it. First order of business: retrieve a certain rat from the bedroom of the Red-Haired Boy.

The Boy wasn't in, but the rat was. Crookshanks circled the bed a few times. This time, maybe, he would be able to get the damn thing. He tensed for a moment and then leapt onto the bed.

By luck or skill, he was nearly on top of the thing when he landed. "A-HA!" he yowled. "Gotcha!" He pinned the rat under his sizable paw. "Where you gonna run to now, ratty?" he asked, sneering as best he could.

The rat writhed in his grip. "Please," it said. "Just let me go. You don't know what will happen if you eat me, it would be a terrible mistake!"

"A mistake, eh?" the cat said. "We'll see about that. I have a great big doggie friend who's just aching to get his jaws around you...."

He barely had time to finish his sentence when the rat went mad. It squealed and bit and slashed with its paws. And then, against all of Crookshanks' previous experience - it grew! It nearly threw the cat off the bed as it became much more massive - its legs lengthened and its arms stretched until it had reached a human size and shape. Crookshanks goggled. Of all the things he'd expected from this rat, this wasn't it. The human grabbed at him, but Crookshanks was too fast. He jumped off the bed and shimmied under the wardrobe, where he could see but not be seen.

The human looked around, breathing heavily. He was pale and thin, and still looked ratty. "Think, Peter, think," he said. "Gotta get out of here, but..." He stopped, glanced at the wardrobe, and grimaced. "You may just have given me my way out, cat," he said. And then he bit the ball of his hand.

Blood dripped out, leaving spreading red blotches on the sheets. "They'll think it was you," he said. "They'll leave me for dead and I'll be free to rejoin my Lord." He looked at the recently repaired curtains on Ron's bed. "It's not safe here anymore." He sucked at the wound to stop the bloodflow and then went to the window. Perched on the windowsill, he looked over at Crookshanks' hiding place. "If I were human," he said, "the fall would kill me. But as a rat...." His body rippled and twisted and shrank, and then there was an old grey rat on the sill. Crookshanks was pretty sure it winked at him before leaping off.

After a minute or two, Crookshanks wriggled out from under the wardrobe, his thoughts dark. The Red-Haired Boy was going to be angry, and so was the Girl. But more importantly, the Dog was going to be furious. It was barely holding on to its sanity as it was. Crookshanks shook his head. This was going to get worse before it would get better...