A new Rule
Crookshanks was in the middle of plotting a highly complex scheme when he spotted her. Mrs. Norris. The bane of his existence. The cat who dared to think she ruled the halls of Hogwarts. The audacity.
It had taken months, months, for Crookshanks to come up with the perfect plan to dethrone Mrs. Norris as Hogwarts' top feline. But today—today was the day. With a dramatic flick of his tail, he positioned himself just outside the corridor where Mrs. Norris was known to patrol. He knew she’d come. She always did. Crookshanks had learned her habits by heart—she was as predictable as she was irritating.
“Today is your last day of reign, Norris,” Crookshanks muttered to himself. He could practically taste the victory already.
He watched as Mrs. Norris trotted down the corridor, her ears twitching, her whiskers quivering with the self-importance of someone who thought they controlled the world. Pathetic. Crookshanks knew better than to engage in petty squabbles. No, he had a plan. A plan so devious, so elegant, that Mrs. Norris would be left flummoxed, wondering where it all went wrong.
As she drew closer, Crookshanks darted behind a suit of armor, waiting. Timing was everything. He watched her approach, her eyes narrowed and her body stiff, already suspicious. And then... it happened.
With a mighty leap, Crookshanks swiped the bucket of enchanted water that had been hanging precariously off the side of the hall, sending it plummeting down directly onto Mrs. Norris' head. The water splashed, soaking her to the bone.
“Wha—?!” Mrs. Norris yowled, her fur standing on end as she froze in shock. Crookshanks darted from his hiding spot, swiping at the bucket, making sure to knock over a few other things for extra dramatic effect. There was no turning back now. This was his moment.
Mrs. Norris’ glare was one that could only be described as seething. The water dripped from her fur in an almost comedic fashion, but Crookshanks only paused for a brief second to admire his work before turning on his heel with the confidence of a king.
“I rule this school now,” he declared to the empty corridor, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Let this be a lesson to all who think they’re better than me.”
With Mrs. Norris thoroughly distracted—because, let’s be honest, there was no way she was going to recover from that humiliation anytime soon—Crookshanks turned his attention to the grand spectacle of the Triwizard Tournament. The First Task. He had heard all the commotion, the whispers of dragons and danger, and, quite frankly, he was intrigued.
He slinked his way through the halls, tail flicking in anticipation. Hermione and the rest of the students had gathered to watch Harry Potter’s performance—whatever that was going to entail—but Crookshanks was thinking far more long-term. He knew a golden opportunity when he saw one.
There was a lot of noise near the arena, and Crookshanks found a convenient pile of hay just near the entrance where he could observe undisturbed. The humans were all frantic, as usual. He overheard them talking about dragons, and Crookshanks perked up at the mention of fire-breathing creatures. Interesting.
The dragon, nor the humans were his focus at the moment, however. It was the distraction, the spectacle, the way everything was unfolding that interested him. Harry, of course, was out there, doing his usual thing of trying not to look completely useless. But Crookshanks knew better. Harry Potter. The boy could barely tie his shoes without causing a scene.
The dragon reared its head, and there was a flash of fire. Harry barely managed to dodge it, running around like a headless chicken. Crookshanks, meanwhile, was simply watching, calm as ever, with a smug little purr. Such drama, such flair, he thought, licking a paw. You’d think these humans had never seen a cat outsmart a rat before.
The crowd roared in approval, and Crookshanks thought, If only they knew the real mastermind behind everything.
But before he could indulge in further self-praise, something caught his eye: a flicker of movement in the shadows. A figure cloaked in darkness slinking around the arena. Crookshanks narrowed his eyes. Who was that?
It was Nagini.
Crookshanks’ tail flicked, his keen instincts kicking in. He had seen the snake before, though their encounters had been minimal. She usually kept to the shadows, moving silently in the background. But there was something about her, something that spoke to his inner feline genius. A connection, perhaps. Both of them, misunderstood creatures in a world of bumbling humans.
Nagini glanced around, making sure no one was looking, and then, quite unexpectedly, settled next to him.
“Keeping an eye on things, I see,” Crookshanks said, his voice dripping with smugness.
Nagini gave a soft hiss, nodding. “I prefer to stay... unnoticed.”
“Well, you've certainly picked the right spot,” Crookshanks said, reclining a little in the hay. He wasn’t technically interested in Voldemort’s grand schemes, but the lack of attention from Hermione was starting to get on his nerves. Maybe a little time spent with Nagini—who, to his surprise, had an odd sense of humor—could alleviate the sting of her neglect. Plus, she didn’t mind when he walked on her tail.
They watched the Triwizard spectacle unfold before them—Crookshanks at peace with his choice, Nagini providing a silent but potent presence. The first task was about spectacle, about fire and showmanship. But Crookshanks knew the real trick: staying hidden in plain sight.
And who knew? Perhaps one day he’d even overthrow the Dark Lord himself—after all, if he could manage to knock down Mrs. Norris, anything was possible.
.