Chapter Text
Monday, 10 January, 1977— a very special day for Regulus Black. It was the day he had finally managed to become an animagus. He was a black cat, much to his enjoyment. Being a cat was actually a lot of fun. Regulus spent most of the day walking around the castle and the grounds just enjoying his newfound freedom. It was cold outside, but his fur kept him remarkably warm. By late afternoon, Regulus had grown tired, and so he decided to take a nap in the Quidditch stands since he was near the pitch, and he preferred that over sleeping on the cold, hard ground. The Gryffindor team was practicing at that time, and Regulus found himself oddly soothed by their shouts as he drifted off.
“What are you doing out here, little guy? It’s too cold outside for you.”
Regulus woke up with a start. He looked up to find that the sun had set and that James Potter of all people was standing over him. Actually, that made some sense. It was the Gryffindors who were practicing before he fell asleep, after all. Before he could fully come to his senses, Regulus found himself being scooped up into James’ arms. Regulus hissed at him involuntarily at the sudden change, but James seemed unfazed.
“Calm down, little guy. It’s alright. I’m bringing you somewhere warm,” James said softly.
Regulus tried to wriggle out of James’s grip, but his traitorous cat body was too comfortable—his fur was warm, and James's arms were even warmer. He decided, begrudgingly, to stop fighting. For now.
“See? You’re alright,” James said, adjusting his hold on Regulus, tucking him closer to his chest. “You’re lucky I found you and not Remus or Sirius. They’re not incredibly fond of cats, I think.”
Regulus tensed slightly at his brother’s name, but James didn’t seem to notice.
“Now what should I call you? I can’t just be calling you ‘Cat’, now can I?” James mused aloud, the corner of his mouth quirking up in thought. “Something suitable for a dignified cat such as you. Like Sir Purrs-a-Lot. Or Captain Whiskers. Oh, I’ve got it—Mittens!”
Regulus let out a low, annoyed growl. James grinned.
“Alright, not Mittens. You’re right. It wouldn’t make much sense, anyway. You don’t have different colored paws to even look like mittens. I’ll come up with something better later,” he promised, as though Regulus cared in the slightest.
The walk to Gryffindor Tower was mercifully short, but Regulus’s relief was short-lived as James carried him straight into his dorm, where Sirius, Remus, and Peter were gathered on the floor.
“Look what I found!” James announced triumphantly, holding Regulus up like a prized trophy.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “A cat? Really, Prongs? Did it beg you to rescue it, or are you just collecting strays now?”
“This poor guy was freezing out by the Quidditch pitch,” James replied, ignoring Sirius’s jab. “I couldn’t just leave him there!”
“He doesn’t look that cold,” Sirius said, leaning forward to inspect Regulus. Regulus glared at him and let out a sharp, annoyed meow. Sirius scowled. “Huh. Feisty little thing.”
“Exactly!” James said, plopping down onto the floor with Regulus still in his arms. “He’s got spirit. I like him already.”
“Are we seriously keeping a cat?” Peter asked, glancing nervously at Remus. “Isn’t that against the rules?”
Remus shrugged. “Technically, no. Cats are on the list of approved pets, though they’re usually already owned by the student.”
Sirius snorted. “Well, if you’re so set on it, I guess we’ve got a dorm cat now. But don’t expect me to clean up after it.”
Regulus shot him another glare. Oh, I’m going to make your life miserable for that comment, Sirius, he thought.
As James continued to pet him, Regulus settled back into his grudging acceptance of the situation. He just needed to bide his time, avoid any slip-ups, and figure out a way to get back to his own dorm without anyone realizing who he really was.