My name is Crookshanks. Yeah, the cat. I think that we should correct a few idiotic mistakes and misconceptions about me.
First of all, my face is not “squashed like I’ve run into a brick wall.” I am a Persian! A PERSIAN! It’s a breed of cat, numbskulls. *cough* Ron Weasley.
Honestly! Persians are very expensive cats; costing around five hundred muggle dollars. So please, call me a Persian! I am a purebred Persian!! And you expect me to go live in a dirty castle for the rest of my life?
I would much rather have stayed in the pet store, frightening the mice and rats—so much more fun.
But NO, some girl with bushy hair has to come in and buy me. And how much does she pay for me? A few Galleons.
I AM WORTH FIVE HUNDRED MUGGLE DOLLARS!!! Okay, okay, I can’t expect morons to understand me.
So then I get to Hogwarts, which is the name of the school that the girl goes to, and there is this rat-that-is not-a-rat. He smells funny, not in a good way…
And so I try and catch him to find out what he is, but the red haired boy just yells at me. What is this?
I, a pedigreed cat, am getting yelled at by a boy in shabby clothes that probably does not even HAVE five hundred dollars. So I am better than HIM!
The girl is nice enough, I suppose, although she treats me like a…pet. I am not a pet—I am my own entity.
At her school, there is this dog-that-is-not-a-dog, although unlike the rat-that-is-not-a-rat, the dog is good.
So I help him by getting a piece of paper from the dormitory that has passwords on them.
Later, I find out that I played a crucial part in getting this dog-who-is-not-a-dog out of exile and back into the wizards’ good graces. But do I get any thanks whatsoever?
No, of course not! And why is that? It’s because I am a cat. Perhaps if I was a cat-who-was-not-a-cat, then I would get credit for what I do.
So, I must now embark on my quest to become a cat-who-is-not-a-cat. Now… how to do this? Hmm… I believe that a cat-who-is-not-a-cat is called an Animagus. I wonder how I would become an Animagus…
Oops, someone’s coming.
Eugh, it is that moth-eaten cat, Mrs. Norris. That mangy thing is not even a purebred… just a common mutt.
Now REALLY, what kind of name is ‘Mrs. Norris?’ My grandmother (god bless her) could come up with a better name than that.
Perhaps her master, Filch, had a mate named that and lost her, because he was too ugly. I’d believe that.
So what if I’m being a bit scathing today?
I was TRYING to become an Animagus so I’d get some credit in this human-centered world.
Now… how to dispose of this incoming kitty.
“Peeves!!” I meow in my kitty-voice.
The poltergeist glides over, his eyes glinting with malice. He doesn’t see me, as I’ve already hidden. Instead, he goes for Mrs. Norris and grabs her by the tail and locks her in a suit of armor.
Haha, that’s always worth a laugh! Oh no! Hermione, my girl, is coming. Great.
She probably wants to dress me up or something…how humiliating… I am helpless to resist as she scoops me up in her arms and heads to the Gryffindor dormitories.
She gives me some cat treats.
Oh well, maybe being a cat isn’t so bad after all…
I really am sorry for this sarcastic nonsense. I was bored in the middle of writing Betrayal, so I thought I’d write this instead of injecting my pent-up sarcasm into Betrayal, which really doesn’t need it. Thanks for reading and please review!
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