The Cat's Retreat
I have to say, Hermione's recent behavior has been beyond irritating. The amount of times I’ve tried to curl up on her lap only to be met with the coldest of shoulders has left me flabbergasted. The whole situation with Sirius... it was distressing for her, I suppose. But come on, I’m her cat, and even I know when it’s time to move on. Or, at the very least, allow me the decency of a good scratch behind the ears.
But no. Instead, I’ve been reduced to nothing more than a neglected house pet, roaming the halls of Grimmauld Place, trying to find some shred of attention. And where was I supposed to go? The humans were so wrapped up in their grief that they didn’t notice me in the slightest.
I mean, sure, I’ve heard the occasional “oh, Crookshanks, you’re such a clever cat” and “You’re so furry today.” But it’s all hollow. Nothing compared to the scratches and affection I was used to.
It didn’t help that Harry was in his dramatic little spiral, barely lifting his head out of his misery. He was so absorbed in his own issues that he didn’t even notice me lingering by the fireplace or pawing at his shoes.
And Hermione... she was just... distant. It was as though she had forgotten all about me in her sorrow. How could she forget the cat who had loyally followed her around for years? I was there during every revision session, every late-night snack binge. How could she forget the one creature who never judged her, no matter how often she cried into my fur?
It wasn’t fair. I was a cat of comfort, of wisdom—when I wanted to be—and I had been left to fend for myself. It was in this moment of bitterness that I realized something: I needed a break. From Hermione, from Harry, from the incessant grief that hung like a cloud over the house. A break to recalibrate, to remind myself that there were better ways of existing than this quiet, neglected life.
Nagini, of course, was more than happy to take me in for a bit of a sleepover.
I’ll admit, there’s a certain charm in spending time away from the hustle of human emotion. Nagini and I had built a bit of an understanding over the past year. She was a creature of wisdom, a little too sly for my liking, but nonetheless, she had this way of putting things into perspective.
The evening I left, Hermione didn’t even notice. She was too deep in her books, far too absorbed to look up when I slinked out of the room. I didn’t care. I was tired of being the inconspicuous, ignored creature.
I padded through the hallways of Grimmauld Place with newfound determination, my tail flicking with purpose. I had a place to be, a snake to visit, and a sleepover to attend. A nap in the comfort of Nagini’s presence sounded just about perfect.
When I arrived, Nagini greeted me with a slow hiss of amusement. She was curled in her usual corner, lounging like a queen. The faint smell of something interesting—something I couldn’t quite identify—lingered in the air.
“What’s got you so flustered, Crookshanks?” she asked, her tongue flicking out with lazy curiosity.
I hopped up onto the pile of cushions beside her and let out a long sigh. “It’s Hermione. She’s completely forgotten about me. I’m nothing but a decorative piece at this point.”
Nagini chuckled softly, her sharp eyes gleaming in the low light. “Humans can be so... fickle. One moment, they need you, and the next, they don’t even notice you exist.”
I stretched out on the cushions, curling into a more comfortable position. “Exactly! It’s like I don’t even matter anymore. And Harry’s no better. Always brooding about something or other.”
Nagini hissed in agreement. “They all seem to be full of their own grief and drama. It’s tiring, isn’t it?”
I gave a little growl of frustration. “I’ve spent all this time looking after them, and for what? I don’t even get a decent scratch behind the ears anymore.”
She flicked her tail thoughtfully. “Perhaps it’s time you remind them what it’s like to have a cat who knows what they need.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “And how would I do that?”
Nagini’s lips curled into a wicked grin. “Oh, Crookshanks, you’re a clever one. You don’t need to do anything. Just let them come to you. When they finally realize how much they’ve neglected you, they’ll come crawling.”
I smirked, feeling a small, sly satisfaction at the thought. She was right. It wasn’t my job to chase after them anymore. I would let Hermione figure it out for herself. She would eventually realize how much she missed me.
For now, though, I would enjoy my peace. A quiet night with Nagini was exactly what I needed. The humans could continue wallowing in their emotional turmoil while I indulged in a well-deserved respite.
Later that night, as I nestled deeper into the warm cushions, I could hear the faintest sounds of movement in the house. A footstep here, a distant voice there—but none of it reached me in this peaceful sanctuary. As I drifted off to sleep, I realized something: sometimes, being a cat was just about stepping back and letting the chaos of the human world swirl around you.
And for once, I didn’t mind.