Lazy Cat

- Chapter One -

A small child that looked five years of age, glared enviously at the felines lounging lazily on the wall of the Dursley's backyard, a too large broom in hand as he swept dirt off the patio.

They were Mrs. Figg's cats and the target of Harry's envy since he first laid eyes on them last year.

Their silky fur, beautiful eyes, amazing flexibility. An air of superiority followed them as if they were the kings of the world. They were sculpted into perfection by God!

Okay, so maybe that was an exaggeration but Harry refused to believe anything could be more enviable than the life of a cat.

Being Human was an utter chore. He had to sleep under the stairs, (which he didn't mind much,) but he was also in charge of keeping the house clean, cooking meals, doing Dudley's homework (on top of his own) and being at the Dursley's beck and call.

It was utterly exhausting. And Harry swore to himself that if he ever got the chance, he'd never participate in manual labor again. Overall, there were very very little perks to being human.

He'd say the only good thing of his current existence was the 'sparks' as he called them. They would heal his wounds when punishment got a bit severe, provide light in the darkness of his cupboard, and would unlock the cupboard so he could swipe food at night when he was starved. The 'sparks' were eager to please, much like he had been when he was younger and seeking love, they obeyed his demands, even his subconscious ones, and Harry would always be grateful.

However the 'sparks' weren't a human trait from what he had observed. Based on what he saw, none of his relatives possessed 'sparks'. Likewise none of the adults or kids at school had them either. In comparison, the majority of Mrs. Figg's cats possessed a minor quantity of them, that were far less eager than his own.

As such, Harry had a sneaking suspicion that the 'sparks' would still be with him if he hadn't been born Human. A large part of him often wondered if he was truly human or that maybe he had been born in the wrong body. After all his relatives didn't treat him like a human, the kids at school treated him differently as well.

Thus Harry had come to a rather firm conclusion. Humanity was overrated.

Being Human meant being surrounded by contradictions. Contradictions were annoying and often led to troublesome things. And if there was one thing Harry hated more than manual labor it was troublesome things. Unfortunately, troublesome was the definition of Human.

With all of this said, the life of Mrs. Figg's cats seemed far more appealing. In fact, even the life of the stray cats on the streets were enviable to Harry.

Compared to his current life, Harry wouldn't even mind the hardships of living out on the street. At least then he could avoid a few troublesome things.

Cats could go wherever they wanted. Equipped with the ability to defend themselves from near birth. Independent creatures with a charm unlike any other.

Plus there was the chance that he could live like a lazy king if he was taken in by a kind family or by a cat lover like Mrs. Figg.

So yes. Humanity was overrated, and Harry wished more than anything that he could be a cat.

Sadly, Harry could do nothing but tear his eyes from the world's most enviable creature, and return to his troublesome chores. He needed to finish tending to the Garden before his Aunt got home, else he might not get any dinner.

How troublesome.

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Author Note

This story is merely an idea (plot bunny) that popped into my head and any updates are unlikely unless my brain decides to continue this train of thought one day.

However, feel free to use this idea for your own story, just let me know so I can read it too!