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Revenge of the Kitten By werekitten
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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-Hogwarts
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Action/Adventure, Fluff, Humor
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 15
Summary: COMPANION TO “Friends, At Least?” Harry and Ginny, now middle-age and married, happily reflect on the antics of their old cat, Minerva, when she was a kitten. Little Minnie certainly achieved Ginny’s quest to prank the Dursleys!
Hitcount: Story Total: 7484
Disclaimer: The entire Harry Potter world belongs to the all-mighty JKR. I'm just playing around with her characters while I wait for DH. No copyright infringment is intended.
Author's Notes: I'm calling this a "companion" to Friends, At Least?, not a sequel. I highly recomend that you read that first, all though it is not strictly nescesary.
I wrote this due to popular request -- although I never intended to write anyhing else in the Friends, At Least? world, so many people asked what Minnie did to the Dursley's that I changed my mind. I finally broke last week in math class -- Stephanie asked me when I was going to add the next chapter to my story, she couldn't believe that it was over without a Minnie/Dursley scene. Thanks, Stephanie!
Other thank-yous go to Erik, my phantasmagorical (I love that word, even if it doesn't really fit this scentance) beta. He finally taught me the difference between its and it's! And of course, thanks to my adorable kitten, the real Minerva, for inspiration. Most of the fictional Minnie's non-violent exploits are things that my Minnie really does.
PG for short descriptions of wounds -- nothing too gory at all.
Just wanted to note -- Minerva is, as mentioned in FAL, a transfigured sock. However, due to Fred and George's prowesses, she is an exceptionally long-lasting and well-transfigured sock. She lives and acts exactly like a real cat.
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! Thanks! :D
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“Minerva! Get down from there!”
Ginny smiled ruefully as her husband attempted to stop their cat from lapping up his tea.
“Harry, you know it’s a hopeless cause. When has she ever listened to you?”
“When I was little, I always used to wonder where the saying ‘contrary as a cat’ came from,” Harry grumbled. “Now I know.”
“When you were little, you were too grateful that your darling Ginny gave you Minerva to care how contrary she was.”
He grinned at her, green eyes lighting up at the memory. “Minnie was a godsend… or a Ginny-send.”
She smiled coyly at him. “You know you couldn’t have survived without me.”
His eyes darkened at his memories of life at the Dursleys’. “I’m not sure that I could have,” he said grimly. “They were so terrible to me…”
Ginny enfolded him in her arms, knowing that those memories still hurt. “Darling, just remember, they came round in the end.”
“But it was almost too late.” The Dursleys had died during the Second War against Voldemort in the attack at Grimmauld Place. Harry had taken them there for safety after he had been forced to save their lives — a Death Eater had attacked their home, mistakenly thinking that Harry cared enough for the Dursleys to be hurt if they were killed.
Ginny decided to take a different path on memory lane — no reason for Harry to dwell on terrible memories that were from eight years ago.
“Did they take Minerva with them when they moved to Grimmauld Place?”
Harry smiled again. “Had to, didn’t they? She was linked to them… Fred and George did quite a piece of spell work when they made her. And that was a smart request you put in.” He was referring to Ginny’s demand that the twins make her a kitten. But she had requested no ordinary kitten: after finding out how Harry was abused at the Dursleys’ house, she had asked for a kitten that would physically hurt the Dursleys every time they were cruel to Harry. Ginny had wanted revenge for her innocent eleven-year-old pen-pal. Years later, when the Dursleys were murdered, she had decided that Minerva the vengeful kitten, now grown, would make a nice pet. It had been no trouble to convince Harry to adopt the cat — he was too grateful to Minnie for helping him while he stayed at the Dursleys.
“But Minerva had made an impact on them by that time, right?” Ginny had never gotten satisfactory details on exactly how her little kitten had reformed the Dursleys.
“Yeah, I reckon so. Dudley wouldn’t have confided in me if she hadn’t.”
Ginny perked up at this new bit of information. “Dudley confided in you? What did he say?”
“Just general stuff, mostly. How he was never sure about his parents’ motives for beating me. How scared he was of dying at a flash of green light.” Harry’s mouth tightened. Fat lot of good that had done him, he thought.
Ginny tried to brighten the mood. “Did he say anything about our little Minnie?”
Harry grinned. “Yes, actually. Minnie’s first night home… wish I could have been there to see it.”
Ginny led him over to the couch. “Why don’t you tell me about it? I would absolutely love to hear about my little kitty!”
“Let me just get my tea… oh right. That ‘little kitty’ just drank it,” Harry moaned.
“Aww, she must like the cream and sugar.”
“Not funny.”
“Come on, get on with the story!”
He plopped down on the couch next to her. “Ok, this is what Dudley said.”
*
It was the dead of night. Vernon Dursley’s snores were emanating loudly from the room next door, accompanied by softer squeaky ones from Petunia. A third snore echoed Vernon’s, coming from Dudley’s room.
*
“Hey! Dudley said that? About the snores?” Ginny asked.
Harry grinned at her. “I reserve poetic license! Anyway, you’ll never get the story if you keep interrupting.”
She grinned sheepishly. “Sorry! I’ll be quiet now.”
“Sure you will.”
“I will if you keep talking!”
“Okay, okay!”
*
…coming from Dudley’s room.
Abruptly, they stopped. Noises could be heard coming from that room, the sound of someone who had inexplicably woken up in the middle of the night and was grumpy about it.
Dudley re-arranged the blankets, trying to get comfy. Suddenly, he broke off. There was a noise coming from down stairs. He sat up in bed, straining to hear.
He heard a soft scrabbling noise coming from downstairs. Dudley frowned. Was his father getting a midnight snack? That sounded like a good idea.
Dudley hauled his great bulk out of bed and felt around for his pink bunny slippers in the dark. He hated how childish they were — at eleven, Dudley considered himself to be above the realm of bunny slippers. However, the slippers were kind of cozy.
Dudley slouched down the stairs in the dark. He didn’t like the dark — tonight in particular, the shadows seemed to be moving in the faint moonlight. Dudley reached the bottom of the steps and headed towards the kitchen.
Something brushed against the leg of his pyjamas. Dudley issued a little squeak of fright. Stop it, he told himself. You’re imagining things! Just a few more meters, and you’ve reached the kitchen, you’ll see the plate of fresh biscuits sitting on the kitchen table, you’ll be able to grab a snack or four…
Fumbling in the dark, Dudley reached for the light switch in the kitchen. There it was! He flicked on the lights.
Something had eaten the biscuits.
“D-Da?” Dudley’s voice was barely a squeak. “Are you h-here?” Almost complaining now, Dudley added, “Why did you eat all the biscuits? You know that they’re my favourite kind!”
He sighed and trundled over to the refrigerator. At least he could grab a can of pop.
Suddenly, he froze in place. The scrabbling noise was coming again, this time from behind him.
Slowly, Dudley swivelled round. Proudly sitting among the crumbs on the empty platter was a cat.
It was a black cat with a malicious glint in its green eyes.
Weren’t black cats supposed to be bad luck?
Dudley gulped. The cat seemed to say, Now you are mine.
*
Ginny looked over at Minerva, who was now fumbling with the pencil that she had left unattended on the counter. No pen, pencil, or anything that rolled for that matter, was safe. It always made Ginny giggle to see Minnie’s paws pushing a pencil on the floor, trying to free it when it got pushed up against a wall. It was especially funny when the cat played with an uncapped marker — often Ginny would have to wash the cat’s paws for her.
It was hard to imagine that her silly kitty was once a beast made to fight. Any instinct for violence that Minerva had was now gone — she was just a normal cat. The idea of a savage Minnie was almost laughable.
Lost in thought, Ginny didn’t realize that Harry had gone on with the story.
“Sorry, could you say that last bit again?”
He tweaked her nose playfully. “Pay attention, missy!” he teased.
She grinned up at him. “Sorry. I was just thinking that our cat, who gets befuddled by a pen, hardly seems like a fighting machine.”
“Oh, Fred and George knew what they were doing when they made her — which you would know if you had been listening!”
“I said sorry! Now I want to hear the rest!”
*
…Now you are mine.
Dudley gulped audibly. Suddenly, the kitten jumped down from the table. It ran over to Dudley and began purring and twining around his legs.
He almost laughed. To think that he had considered this sweet little thing a danger!
The kitten gave a mock growl and began to pounce on Dudley’s bunny slippers.
“You’re my newest pet. I’ll name you… Foofoo.” Did the playful growls get louder? “I bet that no one else at school has a cat with green eyes! I can’t wait to show you off! And Mummy will love you, once I tell her that I want to keep you.”
Dudley scooped the kitten by the scruff if its neck and trudged upstairs. He didn’t notice the smile on Minerva’s face. Step One: Get close to target. Status: Accomplished.
---
The next morning was a bright and sunny. Dudley awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside his window. Suddenly, a weight disappeared from the foot of his bed. Groggily, he looked around the room.
The cat had just jumped down from his bed. “Right, I’ve got to talk to Mum about you. Come here!”
The cat just sat and started at him.
“I said, come over here! Now!”
It sat perfectly still.
“Foofoo! Now!”
The cat blinked slowly, once.
“Alright, you asked for it!”
He began to lumber towards the cat, but before he had taken a complete step, Minerva had become a black streak of fur, headed out the door.
“Hey, come back here!”
You have to catch me first.
---
“O f course, Dudders, if you want this… creature, then you’re welcome to have it,” said Petunia Dursley.
Dudley nodded — he had expected nothing less.
“Now, here’s a nice glass of fresh lemonade for you, and I’ve got some more biscuits. Try not to let those filthy paws get on the kitchen table again.”
“Yum! I’m going to take these outside.”
“That’s a splendid idea, my Duddykins! Get some nice fresh air.”
Dudley rolled his eyes and headed out the back door. Minerva trotted out after him, and jumped up on the tree swing.
“Foofoo! You stole my seat!”
Minerva scooted obligingly to the side, then appeared to realise that there was no way that both she and Dudley could fit on the swing. She jumped down, waited until Dudley had sat down and begun to chomp on his biscuits, and jumped back up.
Dudley let out a loud squawk. “Bad cat! Get down!”
Taking no notice, Minerva proceeded to nibble on Dudley’s biscuits. A look of fury came over his face. He stood up from the swing, dumping Minerva off of his lap.
Ignoring Minerva’s indignant squeal, Dudley picked a stone off of the ground.
He hefted it in his hand, getting a feel for its weight and size. Minerva had jumped back up on the swing and was staring at him.
Dudley aimed carefully, and threw the sharp stone at the cat with all his might.
He blinked. Where had Foofoo gone?
Minerva had quickly jumped off of the swing, effectively dodging the stone. Dudley looked down. The black cat was now crawling slowly towards him, the tiny creature managing to give the impression of a fierce jungle cat.
She crouched down, getting ready to pounce. Her green eyes never left his. Her rump wiggled, and suddenly she was, again, a dark blur against the bright summer backdrop.
Dudley wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but he found himself lying on his back, howling in pain. Examining the source, he discovered four deep, close-set gashes on his left leg. He was overcome by nausea when he noticed the red streams that were trickling from the cuts down his leg.
Minerva was back on the swing, calmly licking her paw.
“That’s it. You are going to pay.”
Dudley struggled to his feet, and, not thinking, lunged at the cat. His hands caught nothing but empty air. Minerva had evaded him again.
Howling in rage, Dudley tried to locate the cat. She was behind him now, pouncing playfully at a bumblebee.
“You aren’t going to fool me! You’re a devil-cat, a freak!”
He slowly closed in on her, determined to catch the little creature.
Minerva’s ears pricked up, and she glanced behind her. Instead of giving him dangerous stares, she sat down, putting a scared, innocent look on her face.
Almost there… Moving slowly, Dudley bent down to the kitten. Even slower, he reached out to towards her neck.
“What are you doing to that poor cat!?! Stop that immediately!”
Dudley looked up, the fury still evident in his eyes. An old lady was standing on the sidewalk, shaking her cane at him. He recognized her — that old bat from across the street. What was her name? Dudley had never really paid her much attention… Mrs. Figg! That was it.
“You don’t understand, Figgy. This cat is a monster.”
“Nonsense!” The old lady began to hobble towards him and the cat.
“But look what she did to me!” Dudley lifted the leg of his trousers, revealing the wounds that were still bleeding sluggishly.
“She had a reason — cats always do.”
Mrs. Figg bent down and picked Minerva up. She gave a little start when she first touched the kitten’s fur — something was… unusual about this kitten. Regardless, the old lady scooped the kitten into her arms.
“She’s a fine feline — just scared.” The cat began to purr. “Now, what do you say we go back to my house and have a little chat?” Mrs. Figg seemed to have forgotten all about Dudley — she was intent on the little bundle of fur in her arms.
Dudley looked at her incredulously. Talk to a cat? That old lady was crazier than she looked, which was saying something.
Minerva gave a little mew in reply. “Oh, you have to stay here, do you? Well, that can be arranged.”
“That beast is not staying here!”
“Young Mr. Dursley, I’m afraid you don’t have any choice in the matter.”
*
Ginny giggled. “Minerva certainly made quite an impression on the Dursleys!”
Harry smiled back. “It didn’t stop there. While I was still at Hogwarts, Minnie stopped Dudley from torturing bugs, squirrels, and, of course, cats, but the real fun didn’t begin until I got back.”
Ginny shuddered. “I almost don’t want to ask.”
“Almost?”
“I always knew my kitty could defend herself, but what about you? And surely Dudley wasn’t the only one who Minerva reformed.”
“Aw, Gin, you want more?”
“Please?” He couldn’t resist, and she knew it.
“Okay. Let me think… oh, you’ll love this one. It’s from the summer after my first year…”
*
Eleven-y ear-old Harry sat on his bed, looking through a stack of papers. They were letters, but not just any letters. These were the letters that Ginny had sent him during the school year.
She had promised to write over the summer, and Harry had been eagerly awaiting an owl for weeks. She had kissed him at the train station — just a friendly peck on the cheek, but Harry treasured the memory above all others.
But no owls had come. Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and even Neville had promised to write to him over the vacation, but he had yet to hear from anyone. Harry was starting to worry that his friends weren’t really his friends.
He sifted gloomily the stack of parchment on his bed for what must have been the thousandth time. The Weasleys had said that he could visit over the summer, but no news of that had come either. Harry dearly wished that he could escape the Dursleys to the Burrow, and live with Ron, and especially Ginny.
A noise at his door made him look up. The Uncle Vernon had installed a cat flap in his door to feed him through, but the little door had served another member of the family as well.
“Hey, Minerva.”
The sleek black kitten wandered over to Harry’s old bed, and hopped up to his lap. She settled down and started purring.
Harry smiled. Minerva was the one thing that had kept him sane during the summer, her and Hedwig. He could tell the difference between the fake purrs she used to kiss up to the Dursleys, and the genuine pleasure sounds that she used with him.
Hedwig gave a little hoot of greeting to Minerva, who mewed in reply. The two had become fast friends, despite Hedwig’s mild distaste for other animals.
Harry assumed that Minerva was the ‘surprise’ that Ginny had hinted about at the train station. After all, why else would the Dursleys have adopted a kitten who bit and scratched them?
That was the odd thing about Minerva. She was so defensive of Harry. Whenever Aunt Petunia bugged him about his hair, or Uncle Vernon threatened him, or Dudley began to beat him up, Minerva was at the scene. The Dursley in question would receive a sharp nip or a large gash, depending on their offense. Harry presumed that Ginny had placed a spell on Minnie to ensure this, or rather that someone had done it at her request.
Harry began moodily re-reading his letters again, until he heard the lock on his door click open.
“What are you reading?” It was Dudley, and it didn’t sound like he was in a good mood. Minerva tensed on Harry’s lap.
Harry hastily stuffed the letters under the blanket. “Nothing.”
“It was letters, wasn’t it? Letters from your so-called friends at that freak school you go to.”
“It’s not a freak school!”
“So why haven’t they written all summer? Did you think I wouldn’t notice? I bet you don’t have any friends! No one wants to be friends with a freak!”
Harry rose from the bed angrily. “Why, you--”
Minerva beat him to it. She darted across the room, hissing. Dudley already sported a large scratch on his arm.
For most of the summer, Dudley had run from the room when ever Minerva became hostile. This time, he decided to stand and fight.
“A freak and his freak cat! Well, I’m sick of the both of you!”
He lunged towards Harry, who was still standing near his bed. Harry circled around the bed, putting it between Dudley and himself. He was angry, but not stupid — long experience had taught Harry that he couldn’t win a fistfight against Dudley.
Dudley was reaching under the covers. For an instant, Harry wondered what he was doing, but suddenly he remembered — the letter!
He gritted his teeth. Dudley could beat him black and blue, but if he so much as touched his letters from Ginny…
*
“Aww, I always knew you were a romantic.”
Harry blushed. “Am not!”
“You were willing to get beat up over my letter!”
“But you were the only friend I had anything from.”
“Yes, well, it was only a bit of parchment, after all.”
“Hey, I spent a long time on my letters to you! Are you saying that you thought they were just bits of parchment?”
Ginny blushed. “Wait here.”
She ran upstairs to their room, and pulled out her old school trunk. Opening it, she sighed. She hadn’t looked through it in years.
She dug through the old items to the very bottom until she found the old wooden box she was looking for. She whispered the password — “emerald eyes”–and watched as the lid swung open. She paused, looking at her dragon fang from Charlie. He had been a casualty of the war, and Ginny still missed him. Waves of nostalgia caught her as she looked at all the old items that brought back so many memories. At the bottom of the box was a bundle of parchment tied with a purple silk ribbon.
Ginny took the small stack and hurried back downstairs. She headed over to the couch and gave Harry the bundle.
He squinted at the first paper. “Merlin, is this from me? It is! My handwriting was horrid!”
“Still is.”
“I won’t deny it. Ginny, I can’t believe you still have these!” He blushed. “I thought I was the only one who saved letters from when they were eleven.”
“You still have my letters?”
“Of course!”
“Harry, that’s so sweet!”
He shrugged. “I always had a bit of a crush on you, even that young. Mostly I just wanted to be your friend. So of course I treasured everything I got from you.”
“Enough to stand up to Dudley, I guess. How did that turn out?”
*
…if he so much as touched his letters from Ginny…
Dudley began to rummage under the covers, and Harry prepared himself to throw a punch at Dudley.
Once again, Minerva beat him to it. Dudley straightened, howling and trying to dislodge the kitten from on top of his head. It was clear that her claws were extended.
Harry used the opportunity to rescue his letters. He decided that Dudley was too distracted to notice, so he pried up the loose floorboard and stashed the letters beneath it.
As soon as the floorboard was replaced, Minerva jumped off of Dudley’s head and caught the leg of his trousers in her teeth. He followed her tug out of the room and down the stairs.
Harry laid back on his bed and listened to the voices coming from the kitchen.
“Mum, look what it did to me!”
Aunt Petunia hissed in sympathy. “We’ll have to find a way to get rid of that beast!”
They had attempted to rid themselves of Minerva several times. Once, Uncle Vernon had even tried to board up the entire house as he had when owls were trying to deliver Harry’s Hogwarts letter. Somehow, Minerva had always managed to find a way back inside.
Harry could picture Aunt Petunia getting disinfectant and band aids from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.
“Don’t worry, my Dudders, Mummy will make it better.”
Harry grinned as he heard Dudley screech. Disinfectant hurt!
Harry heard the front door open — it sounded as if Uncle Vernon was home.
“That cat did it again.”
“It hurt my little boy? When I get my hands on it -” His words broke off in a cry of pain.
Minerva didn’t like being threatened.
Harry leaned against his pillow, contented. He wasn’t quite friendless after all.
*
Ginny looked over to Minerva, who was now reaching under the stove, presumably for a lost pen.
“Minerva, come over here!”
The cat looked up briefly, gave her paw a quick wash, and sauntered over towards the couch as if it had been her idea all along.
“How come she listens to you and not to me?” asked Harry.
Ginny giggled. “Because she likes me better!”
As if to prove her wrong, Minerva jumped up on Harry’s lap and began to purr. He smirked.
“Fine then! See if you get fed in the morning!” Ginny got up and walked away, pretending to be indignant.
“She’ll just eat your breakfast.”
“She does that every morning anyways.” Ginny grinned, and rummaged through a drawer for the cat treats.
As soon as Minerva heard the box rattle, she hopped off Harry’s lap and headed over to Ginny.
“Hey! Now my lap’s gone cold!”
Ginny gave the old cat a treat, then sat down on Harry’s lap.
“Better?”
“Much.”
Deciding that he could take advantage of her position, Harry leaned into kiss Ginny. He never tired of it, not even after years of marital bliss.
His mouth caught something warm, furry, and distinctly feline. Minerva had come up between them.
Harry made an indignant sound. “Minnie!”
The cat gave him an eloquent look.
Cat got your tongue?
~
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