Undeniable
The castle was still. Not because it was late and students were asleep. Nor that Filch had ceased his patrolling of the corridors hours ago. The house elves, having long completed their duties, had called it a well-worked day and settled down in their nests. The stillness came from the very air. The overcast sky seemed to be holding its breath waiting for something to happen. Something significant.
The stifling humidity visibly wafted into the valley the day before and had reached its apex as the cloaked moon rose. Students were irritable and professors impatient. Robes stuck to bodies and socks became soggy messes in the bottoms of shoes.
Harry stretched to his full length on the bed and purposely kept his arms and legs from touching his body. His privacy drapes were pulled wide as not to not hinder the first breath of breeze - should one occur. He knew it would. It would have to. Nothing can stay the same for long. Let alone the weather. He felt that EVERYTHING was on the cusp of changing. And it not only had to do with the beads of sweat that were prickling the fine hairs around his ears and sliding down to the nape of his neck.
'Adventures' in his life had taught him to expect the unexpected. Whenever he was pressed for a specific example, his standard response would be recounting the day he found out he was (of all things) a wizard after being subjugated for years by his only living blood relatives, the Dursley's. There was something about this night, though, that had him shifting as he lay on top of his covers. Somewhere deep inside there was some aspect of himself that wanted to be - needed to be - part of whatever was going to happen. Yet, he was loath to get out of bed. His mind drew a parallel between his reluctance to rise and the latent guilt he felt when his footsteps were the first to mar freshly fallen snow. But, that small part of him would not let him be. It became more and more insistent until he graduated to feeling restless. Which is NOT a sleep-conducive frame of mind.
Conceding defeat, Harry swung his feet over the side of the bed and sat up in one fluid motion. Leaving his dressing robe draped over his trunk, he opted to add a pair of house slippers to the t-shirt and shorts he had donned as bedclothes. He had enough experience sneaking out after curfew that none of his four roommates stirred when he left the room. Balancing on the balls of his feet, he rapidly descended the stone stairs that led to the common room. Silently gaining the large room with its cozy couches, squishy armchairs and sturdy study tables, he glanced about and noticed that all the scattered, empty butter-beer bottles, crumpled pieces of parchments that didn't quite make it into the fireplace and all the other refuse left by his fellow Gryffindors had been cleared.
It was enough that he was out of bed and moving about. He could not, however bring himself to speak. Instead, he silently gave thanks to the conscientious house elves assigned to the Tower and throughout Hogwarts. In fact, he mused, how could anyone NOT feel a sense of allegiance to the school - regardless of your specific species?
Sweeping his gaze around the room one more time, Harry spied Crookshanks on a far tabletop. Not quite sure what he was seeing, Harry crossed the room to get a better look at the half-cat/half-kneazle - which had shed more than a few ginger hairs on his black work robes. Closer inspection revealed a sight that was almost enough to make Harry chuckle out loud. It took only moments to understand why the bottlebrush-tailed cat chose to sleep where he was. The smooth, polished wood was (in all likelihood) the coolest surface in the dormitory. What was astonishing was the position Crookshanks had contorted himself into. The feline was on his back with his neck bent and his head cocked to an unbelievable angle. His body was slightly bowed. Forelegs were resting on the well-worn tabletop and his paws pointed up towards the ceiling. Those hind legs! They were completely splayed out in a manner that would be considered…. obscene if he were human. That's what pricked Harry's sense of humor most of all. All in all, Crookshanks had as much of his body pressed against the cool wood as possible while leaving himself exposed (again, he had to fight the snicker that bubbled in his chest) to the relief that he knew was coming.
Clever kitty.
Clever Harry. That animal would be his means of getting past the Fat Lady's portrait without being noticed.
Rousing Crookshanks with scratches to all of his favourite places (behind his ears, under his chin, just to the outside of his whiskers) brought a second, involuntary smile to Harry's face in as many minutes. How many times had he caught Hermione lavishing attention on her beloved cat when she didn't think anyone was paying any attention to her? Mentally sighing, Harry knew that she always caught his attention. Oh, well.
Pushing that thought aside for another time, Harry could see why Hermione got that "look" on her face whenever she spent some one-on-one time with her pet. The simple act of bestowing the gift of pure pleasure and affection without looking for anything in return solely because you want to physically manifest the feelings you have was a sudden flash of insight for Harry. Come to think of it, there wasn't a week that goes by when Hermione doesn't help him understand a theory, diagram a Transfiguration in a way that allows him to understand the process more clearly or surprise him with her grasp of the materials in Advance Potions. Now, she was teaching him a lesson he was surprised he didn't already know. En Absensia.
Crookshanks stretched and pulled on his muscles as he became more awake. Harry could only imagine the kinks his own body would have if he ever managed to twist himself into that position.
Still not wanting to disturb the quiet, Harry merely looked down and made eye contact with the animal. Harry was caught off guard when he saw recognition cross the cat's face.
Flexing his paws, Crookshanks dropped off the table and nimbly landed without making any noise what so ever.
Harry followed and paced his strides in time with the animal's footfalls. He watched as Crookshanks rubbed his body three times against a knot in the portrait door before it swung inward. He heard, rather than saw, the Fat Lady grumble tiredly - but without reproach - when she saw the familiar gingered-coloured feline. Harry, for his part, barely crossed the threshold before the door closed again. Pressing his body as flat as possible against the wall he waited. For what, he really didn't know. That is, until Crookshanks gave him a look through his bottlebrush tail and over a furry shoulder. Harry cocked his head quizzically. Crookshanks stamped his forelegs. Harry still didn't understand. Twisting his ears one at a time (like he was trying to dislodge something), Crookshanks gave himself a mighty shake that started with his nose and ended with an impatient swish of his tail. Turning completely around, he faced Harry squarely and blinked both his eyes at the same time. Twice. Now Harry got it. The woman in the portrait had gone back asleep! Nodding his head in a gesture of thanks, he gave the cat a jaunty 3-fingered salute and headed down the corridor in confidence. Harry couldn't help but hope that his cohort would soon find another cool place to rest until the weather broke.
Harry moved lightly through the castle. His slipper-shod feet tread silently on the warm stone. He wasn't ready to venture beyond the ancient structure but he wanted - needed - to be able to survey not only the castle but the grounds as well. With no particular destination in mind, he wasn't surprised to find himself climbing flights of stairs to the Astronomy Tower.