Nine Lives and Bad Luck

1

Well, here we are with a new story, but here's the thing; I uh, have some ongoing ones already so... uh.  Yeah. This is fine.

-T.A.L.A.  

      It was typical of Harry's luck that he would end up in his current situation; hiding beneath one of Aunt Petunia's carefully pruned bushes- that is to say the ones he had been carefully pruning just that morning. Now, no normal boy of any age would be able to fit comfortably there, but at the moment he wasn't a boy, or rather he wasn't a human boy anyway.

At just under sixteen centimeters tall, he made for an adorable, albeit scraggly, black furred kitten that could easily be shoved into a pocket. Fitting beneath the large hedge was no issue. Glowing dimly in the dark, his green eyes gazed out from beneath the opening at the still slightly propped open door- behind it, inside the house that was, he could still hear his Uncle Vernon raging and his Aunt's placating attempts to get him to calm down. His stomach growled seemingly in acceptance of what would likely be yet another meal skipped. Even if somehow, by some miracle, he found a way to return himself to a more human form it would only result to his being returned to his cupboard without dinner once more.

       His thoughts returned to his current form. He could hardly return to the house as a kitten, the sheer vulnerability of the form alone made him reluctant and that was taking into consideration he would be able to communicate his problem to them with only use of the pitiful mews he was able to manage in his state. He had little faith in the claws that adorned his tiny paws, nor did he believe he would manage to use a writing instrument.

His eyes darted towards the other near identical houses that lined the streets in thought. He had often seen stray cats or dogs get the occasional treat or scrap when they pawed at a door, although just as often the animal catchers were called, but that couldn't be too much worse than the Dursley's. He would be guaranteed two meals a day for one, and the occasional period of time outside his 'room'. It was worth the risk he decided.

      Carefully, he ventured from outside his hiding spot- he had seen too often what Dudley and other neighborhood kids had done to strays- and darted over to an equally as carefully selected house. The elderly couple that lived at number eighteen Privet Drive were a nice couple with no grandchildren of their own, although they were occasionally visited by their grown daughter and her husband. More importantly however, they had a pet cat that was good with other animals. Knowing this for certain made them the safest bet as they were too kind to torture a small, stray kitten and no young children would be around who could have inclinations towards it and to top it off, they were likely cat friendly, stray or not. It was more than he could ask for given the situation.

       Reaching the backyard he pawed at it a few times- mindful not to scratch the door- to test his theory out and meowed loudly in case his tapping wasn't heard.  He was in luck and not even a minute later there was movement and soon the door was opened revealing the husband, Mr. Sully.

      "Well hello there little one," his tone was soft as he bent down and held his hand out so that cat-Harry could catch his scent, "Did you get lost? Our Rosemary used to be quite an escape artist back when she was younger too." Once Mr. Sully was reassured the cat was comfortable with him and wouldn't bolt or scratch he gently stroked a hand down the kitten's head checking for a collar as he did so. "No tags huh? Well that's alright, you can stay here for the night and then we'll get you to the shelter...Wendy!" He scooped up the cat in a swift movement and stood before Harry could react.

      "Yes dear?" Mrs. Sully's voice called back from the kitchen from which a delightful scent trickled out and filled the air. They were no doubt settling in for dinner.

     "I believe Rosemary has a guest for dinner, there was a little kitten at the door."

     "Oh? Is he a stray then?"

      "Well he is a bit on the scrawny side and I couldn't find any tags, but he's such a young little thing, I can hardly imagine he would have lasted long on his own."

      "Oh my, well I'm sure Rosy won't mind, I'm certain she still misses her own little kittens so it will be nice for her to get some company."

     "What is that you have?" Harry was surprised at the third voice, he was so sure that the couple lived alone.

     "Noticed him already have you Rosemary?" Mr. Sully stopped by the couch, his free hand going to card through the black and white splotchy fur of Rosemary.

      "A kitten. What are you doing with a kitten? Hello there little one." As Harry came to the startling realization that the third speaker was Rosemary, the cat, said speaker gracefully rose with the smug elegance inherent in those who believed they ruled any room they entered.

    "H-Hello." Harry squeaked what probably passed as a poor greeting given the look he was given while the other cat stretched luxuriously and moved to get a closer look at him from where he was balled up in Mr. Sully's palm. Their nose gently bopped against his own.

    "You are not so young as to have to squeak like prey little one, what are you called? I have accepted the name Rosy from my humans."

    He felt himself being gently deposited onto the couch cushion and Rosy leapt down to join him from the back of it.  He gained confidence from her gentle curiosity, "I'm Harry, and I'm not little either!"

     "Of course not, just young, but you won't grow to be a big and strong hunter if you do not eat plenty. Clearly your humans are not welled trained given your state."

    "I didn't train the Dursleys!" He protested quickly.

    "Well there, that right there is your problem.  Humans don't always understand how to properly act around us, it is very important little one that you make sure they properly take care of you. Look at you, you're a mess, my humans are very well behaved, if you leave your fur in such a state you will get a bath whether you like it or not." They eyed him for a moment before releasing what was likely the cat equivalent of a sigh, "but you are young still, your mother should have taken care of this, come here."

     "My mother is dead." He squeaked, snapping out of his mournful state when he felt a rough tongue run down the back of his ear. "Hey!"

     "Hold still, little one," they reprimanded, "and I am sorry to hear that. I'm sure they watch over you with pride like all mother's who are unable to remain by their young's side."

     There was no room for argument in the time of that statement so Harry settled down to cope with her ministrations after a few more token struggles. It was oddly comforting and soon he found himself drifting off to sleep.