Fear of a Name

Chapter Forty: Scabbers

It was the middle of February, and Harry and Ron were both still refusing to talk to me. I was sat in the common room, helping Hermione with her Ancient Runes homework.
"Do you know what this word says, Ivory?" She asked, looking up for the first time in a while. "I thought it was chipmunks, but that really wouldn't make sense in the sentence."
I looked at the word she was pointing to, thought for a second, then said, "I'm pretty sure it says knowledge. Ignorance is bold and knowledge reserved."
Hermione leant over the parchment again.
"Thanks," she said, giving me a tight smile.
"No problem."

All of a sudden, everyone everyone in the common room started talking at once. I looked up and saw Neville, Ron and Harry, the latter carrying what seemed to be his Firebolt.
"Where'd you get it, Harry?"
"Will you let me have a go?"
"Have you ridden it yet, Harry?"
"Ravenclaw'll have no chance, they're all on Cleensweep Sevens!"
"Can I just hold it, Harry?"
I rolled my eyes at the fuss everyone was making and muttered, "Honestly, it's only a broomstick."

After about ten minutes or so, Harry and Ron came over to us.
"I got it back!" said Harry, holding the Firebolt up, a big grin on his face.
"See, Hermione? There wasn't anything wrong with it!" said Ron.
"Well — there might have been!" said Hermione. "I mean, at least you know now that it's safe!"
"Yeah, I suppose so," said Harry. "I'd better put it upstairs—"
"I'll take it!" said Ron eagerly. "I've got to give Scabbers his Rat Tonic."
He took the Firebolt and, holding it as if it were made of glass, carried it away up the boys' staircase.

"Can I sit down then?" Harry asked Hermione.
"I suppose so," she said, moving a huge stack of parchment off a chair.
I saw Harry looking at the cluttered table — the long Arithmancy essay, the even longer Muggle Studies essay, and the Rune translation which Hermione had just finished, and was now poring over for reasons unknown to any but herself.

"How are you getting through all this stuff?" Harry asked her.
"Oh, well — you know — working hard."
"Why don't you just use the spell Ivory taught us?"
I'd been wondering that myself recently, but I'd never actually asked. Hermione had started snapping at anyone who tried to talk to her while she was working, so I'd tended to just sit with her in silence, occasionally helping her out when she asked me to.

Hermione shook her head. "That's cheating!"
"Why don't you just drop a couple of subjects then?" Harry asked.
"I couldn't do that!" she said, looking scandalised.
"Arithmancy looks terrible," said Harry, picking up a very complicated-looking number chart.
"Oh no, it's wonderful!" said Hermione earnestly. "It's my favourite subject! It's—"

She was cut off by a strangled yell that echoed down the boys' staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring at the entrance, terrified as to what might've happened. Then came hurried footsteps, getting louder and louder — and then, Ron came into view, dragging a bedsheet behind him.

"LOOK!" he bellowed, striding over to us. "LOOK!" he yelled, shaking the sheets in Hermione's face.
"Ron, what—"
"SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!"
Hermione was leaning away from Ron, looking utterly bewildered. I looked at the sheet Ron was holding. There was something red on it, and I knew instantly what it was. I'd seen it often enough.
"BLOOD!" Ron yelled into the stunned silence. "HE'S GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?"
"N-no," said Hermione, in a trembling voice.
Ron threw something down onto Hermione's Rune translation. Hermione, Harry and I all leaned forward.

Lying on top of the translation were several long, ginger cat hairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sat in the library in my purse that night, thinking about what had happened earlier. I couldn't understand it. Why would Crookshanks, Hermione's cat, kill Scabbers? There were plenty of other things to chase in the castle, plenty of mice that would've been so much easier to catch than Scabbers was. Something didn't add up.

I went over to a shelf and pulled a couple of books from it, then walked over to an armchair and started flicking through one of them.
"Here it is!" I said suddenly. "Kneazles."

"A Kneazle is a magical feline creature related to, and similar in appearance to, a cat. They have spotted, speckled or flecked fur, large ears, and a lightly plumed tail, like a lion. They are thought to have separate breeds, like cats, and therefore vary in appearance. They make excellent pets if they like a witch or wizard.

"Kneazles can interbreed with normal cats, and generally have up to eight kittens in every litter. Kneazle owners are required to have a licence to own the animals. Some wizards and witches make a living by breeding Kneazles or part-Kneazles.

"They have a very high level of intelligence, are independent and occasionally aggressive, and have an uncanny ability to detect suspicious and distrustful people. They can also safely guide their owners home. Because of their aggression towards certain individuals, Kneazles have a 3X classification by the Ministry of Magic if they are not interbred with another species.

"An uncanny ability to detect suspicious and distrustful people," I muttered. "I'm sure Crookshanks is part Kneazle, but why would Scabbers—"
Suddenly everything clicked into place in my mind.
"Pettigrew."

(A/n: I am so sorry I haven't updated for over 2 weeks now! I'd just lost all motivation to write. I write because I want to write and because I love to write, and I think I write better when I'm actually enjoying what I'm writing, so I didn't want to have to force myself to write. If I'd done that, the chapters I'd written would most likely have been much worse than I would normally write. I realise that I should probably have put an update about it on here, but I'm not that smart so I forgot 😂
Hopefully I'll be getting back into writing now, so there shouldn't be such a big gap between now and the next update.
Again, sorry for the delay, and thanks for your patience!
~Charlie)