CROOKSHANKS THE HALF-KNEAZLE
a character is the subject of a ridiculous headline

100 word drabble installments

Chapter 1:
Crookshanks stretched on a common room sofa, his ears twitching at every sound and eyes fixated on Hermione. Engrossed in a book as she walked, she didn’t notice him slip off the armrest and pad after her out, down the staircases, veer away from her into the courtyard - herself the library. Soon, the crisp winter air of Hogsmeade greeted him as he scampered down the snow covered path.

Freedom.

Crookshanks sashayed towards the village, keen to see what kind of trouble he could get into and, perhaps, what Three Broomsticks scraps he could snatch to fill his tummy with.

Chapter 2:
The shop was bustling with students but Crookshanks didn’t mind. He weaved through legs and over shelves, his amber eyes gleaming with mischief. He leapt onto the top of a shelf hows displays of various quills. With a swift flick of his paw, he batted one off a shelf and watched it flutter to the ground. No one noticed. He padded along, knocking off another, then another until he was certain he could carry no more. With feline precision, he leapt off the shelf and nabbed each in his mouth. Proud of his haul, he slipped out before anyone noticed.

Chapter 3:
Crookshanks trotted back through Hogsmeade with his tail swishing proudly, the stolen goods tucked safely in his mouth. He passed by the students in the streets, their chatter oblivious to his silent misdeeds. The quills - three of which were Luxury eagle-feather ones - bobbed up and down in the chilly air as he sauntered back. When he finally returned to Gryffindor Tower, he slipped into the common room and made his way to Hermione’s lap. She barely looked down as he settled comfortably, purring as though he’d done nothing more than nap the afternoon away.

The perfect thief, undetected.

Chapter 4:
Hermione sat by the fire, flicking through the Daily Prophet while scratching Crookshanks's ears as he curled up contentedly in her lap. The fire crackled, casting a warm glow on their faces. Her eyes landed on a headline: Mystery Plucks Hogsmeade: Shopkeepers Cry Fowl Over Stolen Quills! The article was filled with bewildered statements from shopkeepers and students alike, but no one seemed to have any clue who the burglar had managed in broad daylight. Hermione smiled faintly, her fingers absently scratching Crookshanks under his chin. "Odd," she murmured.

Crookshanks gave a soft purr in response, clearly enjoying the attention.

Chapter 5:
The more Hermione read, the more she was puzzled. The only items were missing were quills... and the thief had left no trace, no sign of their identity. "Hmmmm," Hermione muttered, tapping the paper with her finger, lip pursed. Crookshanks shifted in her lap, his tail flicking lazily, as if to say: I don’t know what you’re talking about. She paused, a thought creeping into her mind. She glanced down at her familiar, then back at the article. Her eyes narrowed just a bit, but Crookshanks seemed utterly oblivious. She sighed, setting the paper aside. "No suspects indeed," she groaned.