Ears erect, tail twitching, Crookshanks prowled velvet-soft, tracing the stench of prey hanging in the air. The drumming of falling water masked his approach, and he’d just reached his quarry when his human dashed past, yelping, furless hide red-raw from the heat. “Wand, wand … now where did the bloody thing go?”
Disdaining an overlong chase, Crookshanks readily surged, landing atop his prey, and set to work. He pawed repeatedly at the monstrous spider, battering its sturdy body and swiping at its slender legs with lengthened claws. Though clever, it proved no match for a predator like him, and by the time his human had returned, entering the bathroom wand first, it was quivering in the throes of agony as Crookshanks carefully looked on.
“Merlin’s beard, well done, mate!” his human crowed, then added, driving Crookshanks’ whiskers to wild frenzy, “We’ll get you the nicest treat, you’ll see!”
When Hermione found them, Ron was cooking breakfast while Crookshanks picked at a plate full of tinned salmon.
“Care to tell me, boys, what wanted Death Eater Mulciber Jr.’s doing, dead and mauled, in my once-pristine bathroom?”
In the sudden silence, Crookshanks yawned, licked his chops, then calmly started cleaning his paws.