The Great Escape.
There are few things in life as dull as life in the Magical Menagerie. The cages were cramped, the company was mediocre at best, and the humans who wandered in were laughably unworthy. Day after day, I watched them coo over puffskeins and kneazles, utterly blind to true brilliance.
I am Crookshanks, a feline of unmatched intellect and unparalleled charm. My orange fur is a beacon of superiority, my flat face the hallmark of wisdom. And yet, here I was, trapped in a shabby shop, forced to listen to the incessant chatter of lesser beings.
Take the crup in the cage next to me, for example.
“You think today’s the day?” it yipped, tail wagging so hard it rattled its bars.
I didn’t bother to reply. Hope is for fools.
The shopkeeper—whom I referred to privately as The Captor—ambled over with her usual bag of scraps. I glared at her.
“You could at least try caviar,” I said.
What she heard, of course, was a bored meow. Humans are notoriously bad at translating genius.
The bell above the door jingled, and I turned lazily to inspect the latest intruder. Most of them were children with sticky hands and no sense of personal space. But this one… this one was different.
She was a bushy-haired girl with a stack of books that looked taller than she was. Her aura practically screamed potential accomplice. I watched as she scanned the room, her eyes filled with purpose.
And then it happened. Our gazes met.
“The Chosen Human,” I thought. “At last.”
She walked over, her hand reaching for the cage. I sniffed her fingers—ink-stained and faintly scented of lavender—and gave her my best “I’m too good for this place, but you might be acceptable” look.
“Oh, you’re perfect!” she said, voice brimming with excitement.
“Obviously,” I replied, though it came out as a purr.
“The cat’s been here for ages,” The Captor said. “Bit of a troublemaker.”
I flicked my tail indignantly. Trouble? Hardly. Just because I had swiped her spectacles once (or twice) didn’t mean I was a nuisance. Honestly, humans are so dramatic.
The girl didn’t seem to care. “I’ll take him,” she said firmly.
“Finally!” I thought. As she handed over the coins, I silently celebrated my liberation. The crup next door barked, “Good luck, buddy!”
I ignored him. There was no need for luck when you had a brain like mine.
As the girl carried me out into the sunlight, I took my first deep breath of freedom. The world stretched out before me, filled with endless possibilities. And snacks.
“My name’s Hermione,” the girl said, stroking my fur. “I think I’ll call you Crookshanks.”
I glanced up at her and purred. Yes, Hermione. Together, we shall conquer the world—or at least that ginger kid and his ridiculous rat.
This was only the beginning.