Mid-September.
The school term had already been underway for two weeks. At the turn of late summer and early autumn, the lingering heat made its final struggle, leaving the weather somewhat stifling.
The crickets chirped ever louder, making their own final struggle—if they did not mate soon, they would die alone. Crookshanks often took Mrs. Norris along to catch those annoying little things.
Perhaps because students and professors often strolled through the grounds, the crickets there had become desensitized. Even when the two bad cats approached, they did not flee, ultimately becoming toys beneath their paws.
The two cats frequently darted through the grass in the courtyard, and whenever they returned to the Common Room at night, their fur was always covered in blades of grass.
As students attended classes and got out of class, while the caretaker patrolled and cleaned, Loren inevitably ran into Filch. For several days in a row, the caretaker had kept a gloomy face, leaving Loren thoroughly puzzled.
If the sunlight was just right—warm but not scorching—Crookshanks and Mrs. Norris would stroll around the grounds and bask in the sun. Students from Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology Class would occasionally run into them, rummaging through their pockets for snacks to tease them with.
Unfortunately, the cats did not appreciate it.
Crookshanks simply was not cute enough. With that persimmon-pancake face of his, he could not beg much food from anyone and could only earn a few biscuits and nuts with his glossy ginger fur. Mrs. Norris, meanwhile, had been spoiled by Filch to the point of having a refined palate. Dried gray rat strips? Little fish biscuits? Those were for owls. She only ate handmade beef jerky.
The two cats occasionally took walks by the lake, where they sometimes encountered idle seventh years, such