"An eagle's eyes, a wolf's ears, a leopard's speed, and a bear's strength?"
Hermione's eyes widened in shock as she stared at the potion in Dudley's hand. She was no stranger to potions that enhanced physical abilities, but they were rare. Even a potions master like Snape didn't bother with them. They were the kind of obscure magic most wizards ignored, preferring to spend their time on potions that slightly boosted magical power.
To most, these physical enhancement potions were a waste of time.
No matter how strong you became, it couldn't match a well-cast Wingardium Leviosa. No matter how fast, it paled next to Apparition. Over time, such potions faded into obscurity, mentioned only in dusty, forgotten tomes of magical history.
A potion like the one Dudley described—enhancing four attributes at once? Hermione had never even heard of such a thing.
Crookshanks, meanwhile, wriggled out of Hermione's arms and scampered to Dudley's feet, rubbing his head against Dudley's legs and purring loudly, a throaty purr, purr, purr.
"What's gotten into him?" Hermione frowned.
Is he in heat?
Since adopting Crookshanks, Hermione had read every cat care guide she could find—wizarding and Muggle alike. They all agreed on one thing: for a cat's health, it was best to get them neutered early, unless you planned to breed them.
Hermione had no intention of raising a litter of kittens. If Crookshanks was in heat, she'd have to take him to a vet to have his "cat bells" snipped.
"He wants the potion," Dudley said, shaking the crystal vial. "Crookshanks has some magical creature blood in him. His instincts are telling him this potion will do him good."
"Oh, I see," Hermione nodded, relieved.
Crookshanks, blissfully unaware, had just dodged a very close call with his "cat bells."
"Can he have it?" Hermione asked.
"My potion has no restrictions. Crookshanks can handle it," Dudley replied.
"Here, try it, little guy."
He poured a bit into a small dish. Crookshanks eagerly lapped it up, finishing every drop. At first, nothing seemed to change. He still looked like the same lazy, fluffy cat. But he seemed content, stretching luxuriously—front paws extended, back arched, hind legs lifted high—before shaking himself and sauntering off down the corridor with small, purposeful steps.
Fed and satisfied, it was time for his walk.
As he passed Dudley, he didn't so much as glance at him.
All affection when he wanted something, but the second he was full? Total indifference.
What a diva.
Next time you want a sip, don't come begging. And your fish treats are getting cut in half, Dudley thought, mentally adding Crookshanks to his blacklist.
Hermione didn't keep Crookshanks confined to the common room. Like most student pets at Hogwarts, he was free to roam. The two weren't worried about him getting lost—pets raised by wizards were far smarter than their Muggle counterparts. They didn't wander out of the castle or into the Forbidden Forest. At most, they'd explore the castle's halls.
Take Neville's toad, Trevor, for example. When he didn't want to be found, he'd go invisible and vanish, but he never strayed far from Neville.
"Hey, you scoundrel! Let's have a duel!"
Their conversation woke Sir Cadogan, the knight in the portrait, who was frantically pulling on his armor and brandishing a lance at Dudley.
To keep him from disturbing anyone else, Dudley cast a quick Silencing Charm.
There. Peace restored.
"Dudley," Hermione said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper as he turned to her with a puzzled look. "Want to come hang out in the Gryffindor common room?"
"I'd be honored," Dudley replied. "I've never seen what the Gryffindor common room looks like."
As if anyone believes that, Hermione thought.
A pair of eyes silently watched them enter the common room.
It was a large black dog.
After seeing them go inside, the dog shook its head and turned to slink deeper into the castle.
Today wasn't the right time.
That massive student gave the dog a bad feeling—an instinctive sense of danger.
Best to steer clear.
The dog was hungry and needed something to eat. It knew just the place: the Hogwarts kitchens, right next to the Hufflepuff common room. At the far end of the kitchen was a small room where the house-elves stored leftover food, piling it up to be thrown out the next day.
Maybe it could scrounge something there, rummage through the scraps, and fill its belly.
It hadn't gone far when it stopped dead in its tracks. A round, fluffy figure blocked its path.
Crookshanks.
He hadn't wandered far. Thanks to the potion, his hearing and sight were sharper than ever, and he'd easily spotted the big black dog.
Crookshanks' Kneazle blood gave him a knack for sensing people's intentions—whether they were "good" or "bad." More accurately, he could detect malice.
The reason Crookshanks was so aggressive toward Peter Pettigrew's rat form, Scabbers, was because Peter radiated malice the moment he saw Harry.
Hermione was Crookshanks' owner, and Harry was her friend. In Crookshanks' simple logic, Harry was one of his own.
Anyone showing malice toward his people? That made them an enemy.
Plain and simple.
"Meow."
Crookshanks edged closer, sniffing the dog and circling it.
He didn't sense any malice.
That made him curious.
This black dog wasn't like ordinary dogs, just as that odd rat wasn't an ordinary rat.
The dog turned to leave, but Crookshanks leaped in front of it, blocking its path.
"Meow-meow-mew."
He kept chattering at the dog. Roughly translated, it went something like this: "Listen up, big black fella. I'm gonna be a ranger someday—boots, a belt, a hat, and a rapier. You've got potential. I'm short a sidekick. Come join me, and we'll roam the land, fighting for justice!"
The dog clearly wasn't interested and turned to walk away.
Crookshanks blocked it again.
The repeated interruptions irritated the already short-tempered dog.
"Woof!" (Get lost!)
"Meow-meow!" (If I beat you, you're my sidekick!)
The dog didn't want to hurt Crookshanks. It figured a quick swipe of its paw would shoo the cat away. But it underestimated Crookshanks' speed. Before the dog could land a hit, the cat darted out of reach.
"Mew!" (You're on!)
With the potion's leopard-like speed, Crookshanks moved like lightning.
The dog tried several times but couldn't catch him.
Giving up on grabbing the cat, it decided to ignore him and head toward the kitchen.
Crookshanks, undeterred, launched himself at the dog. The dog sensed his approach but didn't bother dodging. It didn't think a tiny cat could do anything to it.
It was wrong.
When Crookshanks' paw connected with the dog's face, an unbelievable force sent the dog spinning through the air, stars dancing around its head.
Crookshanks pressed a paw on the fallen dog's face, yowling triumphantly.
"Meow-hehe!" (I win!)
The dog: ???
Even as it lay there, dazed, it couldn't fathom how a tiny cat had such ridiculous strength.
Poor thing. It had no idea some creatures played with cheat codes.