Fic: Oral Tradition (G)
Title: Oral Tradition
Author: lazy_neutrino
Rating: G
Length: 1300
Summary: What really happened at the end of DH is a closely guarded secret. Humour/character death.
Warnings: Don't eat while reading.
Author's note/Disclaimer: Written as a birthday gift for kennahijja. Thanks to fpb for the beta. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Oral Tradition
From his vantage point by the side door he watched them gather. There were more now than he could be bothered to count: a dynasty indeed. Some of the grandchildren had brought their toys and fidgeted while their aunts and mothers chided. They were impatient. Let them be impatient. He would not begin until he was ready.
There were fewer familiar faces now; each fresh year brought new sadness. His own bones ached with the damp, but he was determined.
The room hushed as he stalked in and leapt gracefully up onto the desk to take his place on the velvet cushion.
'My family.' A purr escaped him as he looked around the room. His audience blinked respectfully. 'My family,' he repeated, and curled his tail around his legs, 'it pleases me to see so many of you here and in such excellent health. The years pass and the times change but we are gathered here tonight to bear witness.
'Two generations ago, in this very castle, we became free. No longer familiars and companions of witches - although there are some very fine witches, with whom it pleases us to be associated - no longer bought and sold like owls and toads. Two generations ago, we cats won our freedom in perpetuity.'
Exhausted by the long speech, he bent and sipped from the saucer in front of him. She was indeed a very fine witch, he acknowledged. Even after the ginger one had moved into the house, and she had had her first litter, she had not neglected him. There were still sardines, still laps to sleep on - and if the ginger one was sometimes clawed 'by accident', well, his witch did not seem to mind.
He licked fat cream from his whiskers and gazed upon his audience. At the back of the room a tabby kitten was batting a piece of silver foil. Crookshanks coughed. A muffled yelp told him the child had been cuffed.
'The humans write their stories down,' he continued, 'and lose them to fire and flood. We cats and Kneazles are not so foolish: we pass our tales on in the ancient way. And I am here to tell you once again of the Battle of Hogwarts and the defeat of the dark wizard Voldemort.' His audience hissed.
'A dark wizard, indeed, a human of the very worst kind. A consort of snakes and - I will say it - Rats!' He paused for dramatic effect. On top of the bookcase, a ginger tom yowled his disgust.
Crookshanks continued. 'Witches and wizards alike fell prey to the evil Voldemort. Even cats were not immune. My very good friend Mrs. Norris, long may she sleep, was herself petrified for a time by his machinations. Fortunately she recovered, and I believe twenty-three of her grandchildren are with us today.' An ecstatic purring erupted at the front and four long-haired greys rolled over to show their bellies. Crookshanks bestowed an approving nod upon them. 'Most favoured companions, your lineage is a noble one. May your whiskers be ever long and your claws sharp.
'There was a human child, a boy, who was fated, they said, to vanquish the dark lord. The humans called him Harry-Potter-The-Boy-Who-Lived. An odd name, you may think. I should have called him Blackie, for his fur. There was a cat also, who could become a woman if she chose, and who was called by them McGonagall. A handsome, bespectacled tabby. A beautiful cat.' He sighed. Several toms sighed with him.
Crookshanks leapt to his feet and paced across the desk. 'The evil Voldemort came here - here! - my friends, to seek out Harry-Potter-The-Boy-Who-Lived and destroy him. I was here and I remember. He stormed up and down outside the castle with his army, smiting his enemies like this.' A paw smashed down, crushing an imaginary mouse. The audience followed suit. 'And this!' He flung himself at the velvet cushion, clutching it in his back paws and worrying it with his teeth. A hundred cats howled and thumped their tails upon the floor. A small tortoiseshell fainted and had to be carried out.
'The deaths were horrible.' He turned wide eyes upon them and they stared back unblinking. 'At last came Harry-Potter-The-Boy-Who-Lived from his forest stronghold and they fought. I watched it from the battlements, with Mrs. Norris at my side. The dark wizard fell, and the humans rejoiced, but I, Crookshanks, I knew he was not dead.'
'It was dusk when I discovered him in the castle grounds, on his back like the coward he was. His eyes were green in the darkness and I saw his soul reflected there. I thought to tell my witch but I could not find her. The cat McGonagall had gone to London in her human form. To whom could I turn? Who would believe my tale?'
Crookshanks turned away and gave a delicate cough. 'Among us long-haired cats they are regarded as an embarrassment - by some, an affliction - of which our short-haired brothers know nothing. But that night it was no affliction but a glory that I found in my throat. I jumped onto his chest, grateful for the cleanliness that is our way - and, kittens, I advise you always to be clean and groomed, and if you learn nothing else tonight, learn this - and I straddled his face with my front paws and looked into the evil that I found there.
I leaned forward and retched, perhaps two or three times. The - excuse me - the hairball slid from my mouth into his. I covered his nose with my paw and coughed again, watching him struggle for breath until the green light fled his eyes. I washed my paws and cleaned my face and then I slept, there on his chest, in case he should wake again. But he did not and by the morning I knew that he was dead.
The cat McGonagall returned at dawn and to her I told my story. We agreed that it should be our secret. Humans are so rarely ready for the truth, I have found. There was a time when - but I have said enough. That is how we defeated the dark lord and won our freedom, and as is our custom we will celebrate tonight. I have been told that there are butter pats and chicken slices in the Great Hall, and a catnip toy for every kitten.' A white kitten gave a delighted squeak. Its mother looked mortified.
Crookshanks arched his back in a long, blissful stretch. 'Finally, my friends, I must tell you that we celebrate for two reasons this evening. I have been told that my witch has had another litter. I fear it will be long-haired and ginger, like the first. Honestly, I don't know how they can tell them apart.'
--
Author: lazy_neutrino
Rating: G
Length: 1300
Summary: What really happened at the end of DH is a closely guarded secret. Humour/character death.
Warnings: Don't eat while reading.
Author's note/Disclaimer: Written as a birthday gift for kennahijja. Thanks to fpb for the beta. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Oral Tradition
From his vantage point by the side door he watched them gather. There were more now than he could be bothered to count: a dynasty indeed. Some of the grandchildren had brought their toys and fidgeted while their aunts and mothers chided. They were impatient. Let them be impatient. He would not begin until he was ready.
There were fewer familiar faces now; each fresh year brought new sadness. His own bones ached with the damp, but he was determined.
The room hushed as he stalked in and leapt gracefully up onto the desk to take his place on the velvet cushion.
'My family.' A purr escaped him as he looked around the room. His audience blinked respectfully. 'My family,' he repeated, and curled his tail around his legs, 'it pleases me to see so many of you here and in such excellent health. The years pass and the times change but we are gathered here tonight to bear witness.
'Two generations ago, in this very castle, we became free. No longer familiars and companions of witches - although there are some very fine witches, with whom it pleases us to be associated - no longer bought and sold like owls and toads. Two generations ago, we cats won our freedom in perpetuity.'
Exhausted by the long speech, he bent and sipped from the saucer in front of him. She was indeed a very fine witch, he acknowledged. Even after the ginger one had moved into the house, and she had had her first litter, she had not neglected him. There were still sardines, still laps to sleep on - and if the ginger one was sometimes clawed 'by accident', well, his witch did not seem to mind.
He licked fat cream from his whiskers and gazed upon his audience. At the back of the room a tabby kitten was batting a piece of silver foil. Crookshanks coughed. A muffled yelp told him the child had been cuffed.
'The humans write their stories down,' he continued, 'and lose them to fire and flood. We cats and Kneazles are not so foolish: we pass our tales on in the ancient way. And I am here to tell you once again of the Battle of Hogwarts and the defeat of the dark wizard Voldemort.' His audience hissed.
'A dark wizard, indeed, a human of the very worst kind. A consort of snakes and - I will say it - Rats!' He paused for dramatic effect. On top of the bookcase, a ginger tom yowled his disgust.
Crookshanks continued. 'Witches and wizards alike fell prey to the evil Voldemort. Even cats were not immune. My very good friend Mrs. Norris, long may she sleep, was herself petrified for a time by his machinations. Fortunately she recovered, and I believe twenty-three of her grandchildren are with us today.' An ecstatic purring erupted at the front and four long-haired greys rolled over to show their bellies. Crookshanks bestowed an approving nod upon them. 'Most favoured companions, your lineage is a noble one. May your whiskers be ever long and your claws sharp.
'There was a human child, a boy, who was fated, they said, to vanquish the dark lord. The humans called him Harry-Potter-The-Boy-Who-Lived. An odd name, you may think. I should have called him Blackie, for his fur. There was a cat also, who could become a woman if she chose, and who was called by them McGonagall. A handsome, bespectacled tabby. A beautiful cat.' He sighed. Several toms sighed with him.
Crookshanks leapt to his feet and paced across the desk. 'The evil Voldemort came here - here! - my friends, to seek out Harry-Potter-The-Boy-Who-Lived and destroy him. I was here and I remember. He stormed up and down outside the castle with his army, smiting his enemies like this.' A paw smashed down, crushing an imaginary mouse. The audience followed suit. 'And this!' He flung himself at the velvet cushion, clutching it in his back paws and worrying it with his teeth. A hundred cats howled and thumped their tails upon the floor. A small tortoiseshell fainted and had to be carried out.
'The deaths were horrible.' He turned wide eyes upon them and they stared back unblinking. 'At last came Harry-Potter-The-Boy-Who-Lived from his forest stronghold and they fought. I watched it from the battlements, with Mrs. Norris at my side. The dark wizard fell, and the humans rejoiced, but I, Crookshanks, I knew he was not dead.'
'It was dusk when I discovered him in the castle grounds, on his back like the coward he was. His eyes were green in the darkness and I saw his soul reflected there. I thought to tell my witch but I could not find her. The cat McGonagall had gone to London in her human form. To whom could I turn? Who would believe my tale?'
Crookshanks turned away and gave a delicate cough. 'Among us long-haired cats they are regarded as an embarrassment - by some, an affliction - of which our short-haired brothers know nothing. But that night it was no affliction but a glory that I found in my throat. I jumped onto his chest, grateful for the cleanliness that is our way - and, kittens, I advise you always to be clean and groomed, and if you learn nothing else tonight, learn this - and I straddled his face with my front paws and looked into the evil that I found there.
I leaned forward and retched, perhaps two or three times. The - excuse me - the hairball slid from my mouth into his. I covered his nose with my paw and coughed again, watching him struggle for breath until the green light fled his eyes. I washed my paws and cleaned my face and then I slept, there on his chest, in case he should wake again. But he did not and by the morning I knew that he was dead.
The cat McGonagall returned at dawn and to her I told my story. We agreed that it should be our secret. Humans are so rarely ready for the truth, I have found. There was a time when - but I have said enough. That is how we defeated the dark lord and won our freedom, and as is our custom we will celebrate tonight. I have been told that there are butter pats and chicken slices in the Great Hall, and a catnip toy for every kitten.' A white kitten gave a delighted squeak. Its mother looked mortified.
Crookshanks arched his back in a long, blissful stretch. 'Finally, my friends, I must tell you that we celebrate for two reasons this evening. I have been told that my witch has had another litter. I fear it will be long-haired and ginger, like the first. Honestly, I don't know how they can tell them apart.'
--