Hermione leapt to her feet and looked frantically around the compartment. "Has anyone seen Crookshanks?"
"Crookshanks is an orange cat with white patches — I've had him in my arms this whole time."
Neville scratched his head. Had she been carrying a cat?
Bernadette turned a page without looking up. "When you came in, you weren't carrying a cat."
"What?"
Hermione's face — forever tilted at that slightly imperious angle — went completely blank.
She immediately began scrambling around the compartment in a frenzy, checking the luggage rack, underneath the seats, inside her trunk, calling out all the while: "Crookshanks! Where are you, Crookshanks!"
Neville blinked, then, catching on a beat too late, started searching in the same fashion. "Trevor! Trevor, where are you…"
He'd barely called out twice when his round little face went chalk-white. He spun toward Hermione, eyes wide with dawning horror. "Do you think… your cat… ate Trevor?"
"Cats don't eat toads!" Hermione gaped at him.
Bernadette rested her chin in her hand, eyes still on her book. "To my knowledge, cats do eat toads. Or rather, when they're hungry enough, they'll eat just about anything."
"…"
Neville's eyes immediately went red and glassy. He dropped straight onto the floor and sat there muttering to himself. "No… Trevor…"
"Professor!" Hermione protested.
Bernadette allowed herself a small smile. "I only pointed out your error." She paused. "Since you can't find him here, perhaps try the other compartments?"
"Right! Crookshanks must have slipped out while I wasn't looking."
Hermione reassured herself with that, then seized Neville by the wrist and dragged him upright. "Your toad is probably the same — come on, let's go look!"
"Alright, alright."
Once the two of them had gone, Bernadette stared out the window at the landscape rushing past and let out a long yawn. "Quiet at last."
Plenty of journey left. She'd close her eyes for a bit.
Creak. Creak. Creak.
She had barely shut her eyes when a faint, rhythmic sound reached her.
Bernadette went still. She glanced around the compartment but saw nothing — until she looked down at the staff leaning against the wall. Then she froze.
A small, fluffy, orange-and-white something had poked its head out from beneath the seat and was gnawing at the staff with great industry.
She grabbed the staff and hauled it up — and with it came an orange cat with white patches, dragged right out from under the seat. It had its front paws wrapped around the staff and was still chewing vigorously, though to absolutely no effect.
This had to be Hermione's Crookshanks. Bernadette hadn't found anything under that seat earlier — and yet somehow this creature had been right there all along.
She gave the staff one firm shake. The cat tumbled free onto the floor with an indignant "Mrrow," then craned its neck upward and glared at her with bright blue eyes full of righteous grievance.
The two stared at each other.
"Why were you chewing on my wand?"
The words were barely out of her mouth before Bernadette inwardly sighed. What exactly am I trying to explain to a cat?
Mine, said the cat's eyes. That stick is MINE. YOU are the shameless thief here.
All the same, facing Bernadette's unwavering gaze, it found itself taking one slow step back, then another — and then it turned on its heel and bolted for the door.
A tactical withdrawal! it told itself firmly. This is purely a strategic reposition — not running away! It had felt something deeply unsettling radiating from this large creature. Something that made its fur stand on end.
Bernadette leaned out to look down the corridor. The cat had vanished in seconds. She thought for a moment, then looped a length of cord through a hook on the compartment wall and hung the staff from it, suspending it in mid-air.
Then she settled back into her seat, crossed her arms, found a comfortable position, and drifted off to the gentle rocking of the train.
How much time passed, she couldn't say.
"AHHH!"
She was jolted awake by a sudden shriek, followed by a cascade of frantic footsteps, collisions, and something hitting the floor with a crash. The corridor outside erupted into chaos.
Bernadette turned her head just in time to see a fist-sized dark shape streak past her feet, with Crookshanks in hot pursuit.
"Stop! Come back!"
"Crookshanks!"
"Get your wretched cat away from Scabbers!"
Behind the cat came a stream of young witches and wizards: frantic Hermione, Neville clutching a toad, a red-headed boy, and Harry bringing up the rear. They came tearing down the narrow aisle, knocking into students who'd poked their heads out to see what the fuss was, leaving a trail of grumbling in their wake.
The first three sprinted past. When Harry came by, Bernadette shot out a hand and grabbed him by the back of his collar, pulling him into the compartment. "What happened?"
Harry, mid-stride, was spun around to face her. His eyes went wide with disbelief. "Mr. Vincent — what are you doing here?"
Bernadette gave a mild smile. "Going to Hogwarts, of course."
"But then why — oh!" Harry blinked, working through it. He knew perfectly well that Mr. Vincent wasn't a student. Which left only one explanation. "Are you going to visit?"
"More or less. Pop in, have a look around — and happen to be your professor while I'm at it."
"…"
What do you mean, 'happen to be'? That's not how being a professor works.
"You — you're actually a Hogwarts professor?!"
Harry was still struggling to believe it — not because Mr. Vincent looked too young, but because less than three weeks ago, the man could barely string together a sentence in English.
That thought, however, was immediately swept aside by a wave of sheer delight. He'd assumed he wouldn't see Mr. Vincent again for months — and here the man was, heading to Hogwarts along with everyone else. This was better than he'd dared to hope.
Bernadette flicked him on the forehead. "Stop gawking. Tell me what happened."
"Right, right. Ron was trying to show me a bit of magic using his pet rat…" He paused. "Ron's a friend I just made on the train — Ron Weasley. He's a first-year too."
With that sorted, Harry continued. "The compartment door suddenly flew open and this orange cat came shooting in and went straight for the rat. Luckily the rat was quick enough to dodge, but it was clearly terrified — it made a break for the corridor and the cat went straight after it…"
Harry gave a rapid rundown of events: cat chases rat, Ron chases cat, Harry assists Ron. As for the other two who appeared out of nowhere — he wasn't quite sure where they'd come in.
Seeing nothing that required her involvement, Bernadette was about to return to her seat when a wail floated up the corridor.
"No! Scabbers! Your cat killed my rat!"
To be continued…
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