This chapter has been edited and reposted.
"Damn it Potter, why won't you just die?" Voldemort had been screaming things similar to this since he had invaded the castle with his Death Eaters and he had watched again and again as the stupid child just kept deflecting his curses, not taking a single hit. And really, the only reason he wanted him dead so badly anymore was because he had baffled him and stumped him as to why he wouldn't die; him, nothing but a helpless babe, had defied the laws of mortality and Voldemort just couldn't let the one weakness he had bother him anymore. The idiotic child must die.
"Perhapse because I don't want to die you piece of slime!" Voldemort just barely had enough time to process what had been said before a spell had been cast his way and something hard hit him in the head.
Harry had cast a transfiguration spell at the piece of gunk slowly advancing on him as if an invisible force were driving him and had seen Neville throw some type of plant towards the very person his spell was headed towards. And the next thing anyone knew, the allmight Voldemort disappeared.
It was a few seconds later when Harry noticed that the sounds and chaos around him had grown to epic proportions, and it was in trying to hear what Lupin was yelling at him when he heard the distressed mewls of a kitten.
He turned on the spot and saw a small fluffy animal trying to take cover and escape all of the curses and spells flying around it. Harry couldn't leave the cat there, not something so small and innocent as a poor little kitten. It's mother had probably already kicked him out, he looked large enough. And even if not, his mother was most likely either dead or had left him here in favor of safety.
Harry made a mad dash to the ball of fur and managed to get away from the castle and the fighting with it safely encased in his embrace.
When the two of them reached the grounds Harry summoned his broom and other belongings. Once he had them he shrunk his trunk and cast weight-reducing charms before taking off into the night sky with the kitten held firmly in his arms.
That arangement was quickly scrapped as the kitten practically clawed his arms off fairly quickly and thouroughly. He tucked him into an inner pocket in his robes and took off, letting his inner seeker test the speed limits on his trusted broomstick.
A few hours later Harry landed on a balcony and walked into his rooms through the french doors. He resized and weighted everything before setting them down in the middle of the floor, trusting a house elf to manage the trunk and cage. The elves knew enough to stay away from his broom, as he took care of her himself.
They learned their lesson after the first elf made that mistake. They still didn't know what had happened to him.
He took the kitten out of his robes and placed him on his large bed before peeling off all of his wet clothing-which was basically everything. He pulled on a big fluffy bathrobe before sitting next to the cat.
"Well hello there mister trouble-seeker. I suppose I should ask you if you can understand me." He watched at the cat nodded, seemingly shocked at the events. "All right, and I'm assuming this isn't your animagus form since you could just change back if it were." A shake of the head this time. "Okay. I'm going to ask you to stay on the bed so you don't hurt yourself while I take a bath. Unless you'd like to join me, you do look a little grimy." The grey-haired cat shook his head hesitantly, as if the thought of being clean was promising but the bath part was daunting. "I'll give you a bath in the sink later, how about that?" The head nodded enthusiastically after a moment of deliberation. Apparently it took a moment for the cat to realize that the odds of him sinking and drownding in a sink were drastically less than a bath tub.
Harry walked out of the room and through a door without another word, leaving it ajar, to go and soak in the hot water infused with lilac and vanilla that he knew would be waiting for him.
When he was done he got out and threw on the robe, not bothering to dry himself off, and picked the small animal up off his bed. He was slightly surprised to see that the creature had not disobeyed him and had stayed on the bed. In fact, it looked like the only moving it did was moving from the sitting position to the laying position he found him in when he walked out of the bathroom.
He took the kitten to the sink and filled it with hot water before setting him down on the counter, waiting for him to get in on his own. When he did, which didn't take long, he picked up his vanilla-scented shampoo and started gently rubbing it into the soft fur to remove all of the dust and grime the battlefield had given the poor little thing. He found himself wondering why a kitten, of all animals, would be smack in the middle of a war.
He shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts and focused on the task in front of him.
When the feline was finally clean, he took a small hand towel and dried the poor thing off. He genuinely felt bad that the animal had been stuck between two armies in the midst of a war and felt the overwhelming need to comfort the furball. It might not have been his fault that it chose that particular place to be in, but he was going to make sure that the cat got everything it needed to have a decent life-much unlike the one he had when he had grown up.