Crookshanks was clearly even smarter than he had given him credit for, Harry thought as he trod silently across the Hogwarts grounds. The feeling of grass beneath his paws was both pleasant and new. He’d known the part-kneazle was intelligent of course, but had written the whole Scabbers affair off as a bit of sport if at Ron’s expense. With the recent completion of his own feline animagus transformation (a small, black housecat), Crookshanks made it a point to show him exactly how unusual the rat truly was.
Crookshanks promptly led him to the nest of clothes Scabbers had called home in years previous. He’d nosed around the dungeons for a few rats himself when he’d first transformed, as an experiment to better get used to his enhanced ears and nose. But there was something distinctly off about Scabber’s scent that instantly raised his hackles.
Of course this wasn’t the only thing Crookshanks had to show. If he hadn’t spent many a night with the half-kneazle purring away in his lap, he wouldn’t be following him to… the whomping willow? It wouldn’t be the first time his curiosity got him in trouble, at least.
Crookshanks nimbly dodged the bone-crushing boughs, lept at a knot at the base of the tree, and disappeared through a small opening at the roots with ease. The Whomping Willow stood still in his wake.
After recovering from the shock, Harry cautiously approached the towering tree to follow suit. He paused at the entrance of the tunnel to take a deep breath of the damp earth before descending. As he proceeded down the tunnel, the odd taste of wet dog in contrast to the smell of decay and woodsmoke.
Swallowing his uncertainty, he coiled his haunches and sprang through the open trapdoor at the tunnel’s end. As he landed, a tall dark haired figure turned to face him, Crookshanks purring in his arms.
“Who's this Ginger, have you brought more help to the hunt?”