"Tom, I don't mind you and Crookshanks going into the Forbidden Forest, but could you at least not bring fleas back into the dormitory?"
Harold waved his wand, and a gust of wind swept through the corners of the dorm, blowing several bean-sized fleas out through the window.
He wasn't sure what was going on—Tom had always been clean, but lately, a few fleas kept showing up on him. That had never happened before.
Could it be Crookshanks?
No, probably not. Hermione would never allow Crookshanks to have fleas. Every strand of fur on that cat looked like it had been specially groomed.
It was probably some filthy beast from the Forbidden Forest. Considering how often Tom roamed around there, picking up a few fleas wasn't surprising.
Harold flicked his wand again, and the breeze blew over Tom from head to tail.
Tom flicked his tail and meowed twice.
After learning Animagus transformation, Harold had become more and more familiar with feline behavior. Even without transforming, he could roughly understand the different meanings behind various meows.
Especially Tom—he was the easiest to read.
"You're saying you've got a new follower?" Harold asked in surprise.
Cats weren't naturally social animals, and Tom was no exception. Most of the time, he preferred roaming the castle and the forest alone.
Of course, Tom did have a couple of sidekicks—Hagrid's boarhound Fang, and his old buddy Crookshanks.
Other pets might try to join, but Tom, being as picky as he was, rarely gave them the time of day.
This one must be the third. Judging by the fleas, the newcomer was likely someone Tom found in the Forbidden Forest. Harold had to admit—Tom's social circle was surprisingly wide.
It's just… this new follower had serious hygiene issues.
"Next time, remember to stop by Filch's office and grab the yellow jar," Harold said. "That's Madam Skour's Magical Mess Remover. Just pour it over your little friend and have him go for a swim in the Black Lake. That should clear up the fleas."
Madam Skour's Magical Mess Remover was what Filch used to clean the castle, but it worked wonders on animal fur as well. "Magical" and "All-Purpose" weren't just for show.
Some wizards even used it as shampoo. If it was safe for humans, it was certainly safe for animals.
Tom nodded—he'd remember Harold's advice.
Even he thought his new follower was way too dirty. The matted fur and lingering stench were unbearable. Compared to this guy, even Fang, who loved rolling in the mud, looked like he'd been through a deep cleanse.
Time to do something about it.
Tom darted out of the dormitory, off to find Filch.
He knew exactly where Filch's office was. Every time Mrs. Norris got smacked, she would run straight for that little room on the first floor, and Filch would come charging out with a lantern. Tom had memorized the route ages ago.
Crookshanks quickly followed behind him, and the two cats' dash just happened to be spotted by Hermione in the corridor.
"Hey, Harold, Crookshanks is my cat, right?" she said, her expression a little strained. "But now it feels like he's Tom's pet. I barely see him these days."
"As if I get to see Tom that often," Harold shrugged. "You looking for Harry and Ron?"
"Yeah, they borrowed my notes. I need them back now." Hermione said, knocking on Harry and Ron's dormitory door.
By the time Harry came out with her notes, it was just about time for them to head off to Defense Against the Dark Arts.
It was their first class of the term, and after the incident on the train, everyone was eager to see what it would be like.
Surely it had to be better than the last two years.
Harry wondered if Professor Lupin might teach him how to repel Dementors.
…
Their first lesson was a practical one. Professor Lupin led them from the classroom to a larger room nearby.
On the way, they encountered three racing cats.
Mrs. Norris was in the lead, sprinting with all her might, while a massive grey cat chased from behind. Its tail was wrapped around a yellow bottle—if you looked closely, you could see a picture of a witch and the words: "Madam Skour's Magical Mess Remover."
The two cats dashed past their feet, and the students instinctively stepped to the sides, cheering:
"Go, Tom!"
"Nice one!"
"Teach her a lesson!"
Mrs. Norris was Filch's cat, and she roamed the castle like a living alarm system.
Whether you were out at night, sneaking food from the kitchens, or sneaking off for a date, all it took was one glare from her headlight-like eyes, and Filch would appear within five minutes, lantern in hand.
Most Gryffindors had been caught by her at some point and despised her with a passion.
As Fred Weasley once put it, "If the Ministry had a 6X danger rating for magical creatures, Mrs. Norris and Dementors would top the list—only difference is, at least you can banish a Dementor with a spell."
So when Tom was seen chasing Mrs. Norris around the castle, Gryffindors erupted with joy.
Rumor had it that some even founded a club in response: the Kick-Mrs.-Norris-Out-of-the-Castle Club.
Membership wasn't small either. Everyone wore badges featuring Tom's face.
Eventually, Professor McGonagall shut the club down, but the badge sales hadn't slowed at all.
Tom chasing Mrs. Norris had become one of Hogwarts' most iconic scenes—so no wonder everyone was so hyped when it happened.
Professor Lupin, however, was witnessing this for the first time. He didn't react until the two cats were right at his feet, and he had to dodge to avoid stepping on them, nearly colliding with Neville.
"Oh! Sorry, Mr. Longbottom," Lupin said quickly. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Neville replied, then pointed ahead, eyes wide. "Look! There's something else coming!"
It was another cat—ginger-colored and quite distinctive.
It was also running… well, sort of. Compared to Mrs. Norris and Tom, it was more like a slow jog, panting and struggling to keep up.
"Hermione, I think that's your cat, right?" someone whispered. "I've seen you holding it before."
"Nope. Not related," Hermione flatly denied.
She glared at Crookshanks as he trotted past without even glancing her way. The nerve!
But then she instinctively made excuses for him.
Maybe long-haired cats just weren't good at running. Crookshanks had been cooped up in that pet shop for ages. No way he could match the agility of Mrs. Norris and Tom, who had been leaping around the castle for two years.
Besides, Crookshanks' strength wasn't in speed—it was in his brains.
He was the smartest cat Hermione had ever seen. It had only taken a few days for him to start understanding what she said.
As she was thinking this, something else flew down the corridor above them.
Peeves zoomed overhead, shouting gleefully, "Second floor! I saw her! Filch's dumb cat ran to the second floor—cut her off!"
With Peeves's guidance, Tom spun around and took a shortcut to intercept Mrs. Norris.
Unfortunately, everyone else was on the third floor, so they couldn't see what happened next. Quite the shame, really.
…
(End of Chapter)