On the way to the castle, Harry kicked at a pebble on the path, then stopped casually and said, "Hermione, ever thought about getting a pet of your own?"
"What?" Hermione froze as if hit by a Petrificus Totalus, spinning around with wide eyes. "A pet?"
Harry nodded, sending the last pebble skittering. "Humphrey hates being on a leash, and the other day at Diagon Alley, you were glued to the window of the Magical Menagerie for ages."
Hermione's ears turned bright red, a flush creeping down her neck.
She instinctively tugged at the hem of her robes, her voice barely a whisper. "You… you saw that?"
"Of course," Harry said with a grin. "I gave you that Thestral-hair robe, so you bought me those dragonhide gloves as a thank-you. I'm guessing you were planning to use that money for a pet, right?"
Hermione's face grew even redder. He'd nailed it.
That day in Diagon Alley, Hermione had indeed planned to buy a pet, and her mum had been all for it. But when Harry surprised her with that pricey robe, she couldn't just accept it without giving something back. So, she'd scrapped her pet plan and used the Galleons for Harry's gloves instead.
She thought she'd hidden her intentions well, but Harry had noticed her lingering gaze at the shop window.
"I… I was just looking," Hermione mumbled, trying to play it off, but Harry saw right through her.
"Come on, don't pretend." He pulled a Magical Menagerie order form from his pocket and waved it. "Wanna check out what pets they've got?"
Hermione stared at the form, then at Harry's earnest eyes. Her heart felt like it was soaking in warm water, soft and cozy.
She sniffled, putting on a mock-stern face. "Are you teasing me? You know I've already gone over my allowance this term…"
"Absolutely not," Harry said, raising his hand as if taking an oath. "I just want to free Humphrey from that leash. Plus, your birthday's coming up…"
"But you said the robe was my birthday gift," Hermione pointed out.
"I've never heard of a birthday gift needing a return present, so that one doesn't count!" Harry shot back.
Hermione burst out laughing, her expression softening. "Fine… can I pick one myself?"
"Of course," Harry said easily. "Just don't bankrupt me."
"Get lost!" Hermione playfully snatched the order form, her cheeks still flushed, and started scanning it.
The Magical Menagerie order form had a certain magical charm. Tap a pet category—cat, dog, owl, or toad—and the parchment would flip to the right section like it had been hit with a Switching Spell.
Hermione stared at the faintly glowing parchment, wondering to herself: How many charms are layered into this thing?
"Picked one yet?" Harry's voice snapped her out of her musings about magical mechanics.
Hermione shook her head, realizing now wasn't the time to geek out over the form. She needed to choose a pet. "Not yet, give me a sec," she said quickly.
Harry raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips. "I was kidding about the money thing. Don't hold back—pick something you really love."
Hermione had been set on an owl, but her fingers, as if guided by some unseen force, flipped to the cat section instead.
In the end, she chose a ginger tabby. "I've decided," she said, handing the form back to Harry.
Harry glanced at it and raised an eyebrow. "Thought you'd go for an owl."
"I was," Hermione admitted. "But I have to go home over the holidays, and an owl would stand out too much to Muggles. A cat's a safer bet."
Harry pointed to the description on the form and read aloud, "Says here this one hasn't sold in years. You sure about it?"
The cat's face in the picture was round and squashed, like someone had gently flattened it, giving it a goofy, endearing look.
Hermione nodded firmly. "That's exactly why I picked it. Don't you think it's kind of sad that no one's wanted it? Plus, it's got some Kneazle blood, so it should get along with Humphrey without too much fuss."
Harry shrugged. If Hermione had thought it through this much, he wasn't going to argue.
They headed to the owlery, sending off the order form and payment.
The Magical Menagerie's delivery was ridiculously fast. Before Potions class, a reply arrived, carried by an owl, instructing them to pick up the pet at the castle gates.
Thanks to Harry's double delivery fee, the shop had sent someone to bring the cat via the Knight Bus.
The news hit Hermione like a pebble rippling a pond. During Potions, she was uncharacteristically distracted.
Snape's hawk-like eyes swept over her, and for once, she didn't sit up straighter. When he announced their group's potion had barely passed with his usual icy sneer, Hermione—who'd normally argue her case—just blinked, barely reacting.
The moment the bell rang, Hermione vanished before Harry could even finish cleaning his cauldron.
Harry raised an eyebrow, chuckling to himself. He knew she'd used her Time-Turner.
He took his time packing up and headed to the Gryffindor common room.
Sure enough, when he pushed open the door, there was Hermione, cradling a ginger cat in an armchair by the fireplace, her face beaming with joy.
Ginny was there too, gently stroking the cat's soft fur. When she saw Harry, her cheeks flushed like she'd been caught doing something sneaky, and she bolted.
Before Harry could say a word, Hermione eagerly held up the cat, her eyes sparkling. "Harry, look! His name's Crookshanks!"
Harry leaned in to get a better look, mentally adding the Magical Menagerie to his blacklist. The cat in the order form's photo and the one in front of him were like night and day.
Crookshanks was big, his ginger fur fluffy and soft, like a cloud warmed by the sun. But his legs were noticeably bowed, his paws slightly pigeon-toed, giving him a wobbly gait. His face was flat, like a squashed persimmon, and his bushy, bottlebrush tail flicked lightly against Hermione's arm.
Harry couldn't help but wonder: Did someone punch this cat to make its face so flat?
"Harry, what are you staring at? Come here!" Hermione called, stroking Crookshanks' back with a grin that wouldn't quit.
Harry reached out to pet the cat's head but misjudged his strength. Crookshanks jerked up, letting out a sharp hiss of displeasure.
Hermione quickly patted his head to soothe him, shooting Harry a playfully reproachful look.
Whatever, as long as she's happy, Harry thought, sighing.