Recruitment, Revolts and Righteous Hatred.
Crookshanks’ POV
The train ride back to Hogwarts was uneventful, aside from the occasional snack-stealing opportunity. Now, back in the castle, it’s time to establish my dominance once again. Hogwarts is my kingdom, after all, and I intend to rule it with an iron paw.
But first, a mission: assembling more allies.
The first stop on my tour is the second-floor girls’ bathroom. It reeks of dampness and despair—Moaning Myrtle’s domain.
She’s sobbing into a toilet when I arrive. Typical.
“Get a hold of yourself, Myrtle,” I say, leaping onto a sink.
She looks up, her translucent face a blotchy mess. “W-what do you want, Crookshanks?”
“I’m putting together a network,” I explain, flicking my tail. “Eyes and ears all over Hogwarts. You in?”
She sniffles, wiping at her ghostly nose. “You mean… you want me to help? Nobody ever wants me…”
I roll my eyes. “You’re a ghost. You can go anywhere, hear anything. Plus, you’re invisible to most people. You’d be an asset.”
Myrtle straightens up, a hint of pride in her spectral form. “Alright. I’ll do it. But only if you promise to visit me sometimes.”
“Deal,” I say quickly, eager to avoid more sobbing.
Next, I track down Trevor the toad. He’s lounging near the greenhouses, looking thoroughly unimpressed with life.
“Trevor,” I greet him. “I have your first mission”
He croaks lazily. “What for?”
“Spying,” I reply. “You’re small, inconspicuous, and frankly, people forget you exist. Perfect for reconnaissance.”
He ponders this for a moment before nodding. “Fine. But only if you promise not to tell Neville where I hide.”
“Done.”
As I make my rounds through the castle, I remember that my house-elf network is already well-established. Dobby, Kreacher, and a few of the others are more than happy to pass along tidbits of information, particularly if it involves avoiding Mrs. Norris.
Earlier today, I made sure they were aware of Umbridge’s ridiculous rules, warning them to be on the lookout for any “unnecessary” behavior. And they’ve been excellent allies in getting information to me.
The owls? Well, they owe me. Between me and Hedwig, I’ve formed a working alliance with the owlery. Their knowledge is invaluable—who better to gather intel than creatures who can fly unnoticed?
Conversations with the House-Elves
I swing by the kitchens, where Dobby is busy dusting off the counters.
“Mister Crookshanks! You return! How may Dobby assist you today?”
“Dobby, I need you to keep an eye on the Umbridge situation,” I say, rubbing my head against the elf’s leg. “She’s trouble.”
Dobby nods eagerly, his large eyes gleaming. “Dobby will do his best to stop her. No more nonsense from her!”
“Good. Keep me updated,” I say, strutting out with my tail high.
The Umbitch
By the time I return to the common room, word of our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor has spread. Dolores Umbridge.
The moment I see her in the Great Hall, I know she’s trouble. The saccharine smile, the pink cardigan, the patronizing tone—it’s all a front. Beneath it lies something dark and oppressive.
And the way she looks at me? Like I’m a speck of dirt on her shoe? Oh, it’s on.
Crookshanks vs. Umbridge
During her first class, I make it a point to stroll in late, leap onto her desk, and knock over her teacup.
“Out! Out, you filthy creature!” she screeches, waving her wand at me.
I stare her down, unflinching, before hopping off the desk with deliberate slowness. The students are suppressing laughter, and I can feel Hermione silently willing me to behave.
Not a chance.
That night, as I curl up in the Gryffindor common room, I reflect on the day. Myrtle, Trevor, and the house-elves are on board. Mrs. Norris is keeping her distance. And Umbridge? She’s already on edge.
This is only the beginning. By the time I’m done, Hogwarts will remember that I run this castle—not the Ministry, not the ghosts, and certainly not that pink-clad tyrant.
My claws are ready. Let the rebellion begin.