More than Human

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Any characters or situations that are unknown in the HP series are the author's intellectual property and should not be used without permission.

Author's Note: This fic is written for Full Sail Nate's Challenge on Portkey involving Harry in an Animagus transformation gone wrong. The genre is drama/ romance with H/Hr as the pairing. Warning: there will be humor as well...All Animagus background information used here is simply the humble author's own invention. Enjoy and Please Review! More Than Human Chapter One – Silent Paws

Harry and his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, were seated at a front table in the Transfiguration room listening intently to Professor McGonagall’s lecture regarding Animagus transformations and the basic mechanics behind the shape changing ability. Several other students from their year were also scattered about the room. Only those who passed the Transfiguration OWL with an Exceed Expectations grade or higher was permitted to take this very specialized Transfiguration course, which meant Malfoy and his Slytherin cronies were definitely out of this class.

The Professor was stressing a certain portion of the preparations for the initial change of form and Harry bent to his notebook to copy down what his Head of House was saying.

“The most important aspect of the preparation to complete the transformation is a clear and precise image of what you will be changing into and what that change will mean in terms of your senses and perceptions.” She paused to draw a few arcane symbols on the chalkboard before continuing. “What the creature is depends upon your innate magic and how the particular animal resonates to your inner self-image.”

McGonagall strode forward to brazier and tapped it twice with her wand. A thick stream of smoke exuded from the item and roiled in the air just above it until it formed into a shape of a bird. She traced a circle around the figure and it became sharper and darker until a representation of a raven hovered above the brazier.

“The Raven, for example, is one of the most intelligent of birds. This form offers versatility, non-magical flight and very good perceptions. Also, the natural distribution of this animal will allow a mage to be unremarked upon if observed.” She passed her wand tip through the raven’s image and it broke apart into a smoky plume that grew a bit larger and then reformed into a Gray Wolf.

“A canine form offers a very superior sense of smell, excellent hearing and greater level of stamina in terms of movement. Wolves, for example have been tracked ranging as far as 700 kilometers. A drawback to this form is its impulse to find others of its kind and to live in a pack structure. Mages who favor canine forms have reported that they find it very difficult to control this particular attribute while in their animal form. Other canids also do well as - ” McGonagall was interrupted by a question from Ernie Macmillan.

“What about magical creatures or animals, Professor? Is it possibly to change into, say, a dragon?” Other students muttered excitedly at that thought and mentioned other magical beasts like griffins and unicorns. Harry glanced over at Ron, who seemed taken with the idea. A skeptical sound from Hermione, who sat on Harry’s right, made clear her disdain for the question.

McGonagall pursed her lips and answered tartly. “While the possibility exists to change into a magical beast such as a griffin or unicorn, Mr. Macmillan, a dragon is not physically possible. When transforming into a creature larger than a man-sized creature, something must increase the mass of the wizard in the form. While reducing mass does not require a great deal of magic energy to complete and maintain, increasing one’s body mass does. The larger the form the greater the drain upon the wizard’s magic.”

The professor returned to the chalkboard to write down several formulae involving the energy needed to theoretically change into a dragon. As the students realized the magnitude of the difference, there were some disappointed groans and whispers. McGonagall returned to the brazier and advanced to her next creature, which was a Leopard.

“The Leopard in the Big Cat family is a distinct possibility for a transformation, given its similarity in size and mass to a human. A leopard is able to hunt in near complete darkness, thanks to its amazing eyesight. This attribute, in conjunction with a superb sense of smell and a remarkable ability to detect movement would be an excellent form.” She waved the final form away and returned to her desk to pick-up a stack of graded parchments to return them to the students.

Harry was pleasantly surprised at his grade, which was an Exceeds Expectations, given he had done the essay without any assistance from Hermione. Ron was less happy with his Acceptable and Hermione had received an Outstanding of course.

“Now for the last part of the class time, I want you to practice the meditation exercise described in Chapter 7 of your text book. Also, I expect 12 inches on your comparison of your personality profile and animal forms that would correspond to you from Chapter 6 for the next class.”

The professor returned to her desk as the students flipped the pages of their textbooks to the correct page. The meditation exercise consisted of a special thaumaturgic diagram that was to assist the teens in determining if they could complete an animagus transformation and what animal they might become.

With a sigh, Harry cleared his thoughts and concentrated on the diagram. It was hard to focus on the task at hand as Ron kept fidgeting periodically beside him. Hermione, in contrast, remained motionless. Frustrated, Harry nudged Ron and whispered, “Knock it off, would you?” Ron looked disgusted for a moment, and then returned to his own textbook as Harry glared at him.

The room faded away as Harry succeeded in focusing on the textbook graphic and his meditative focus until the diagram began to change, the ink seemed to run together and pool in different spots, slowly forming a picture as he concentrated. Finally! It’s working…maybe I’ll see what animal I could be. Harry thought.

His peripheral vision faded in a gray haze as the changing diagram grew brighter and larger, the form becoming more distinct as something vaguely catlike. Excited at his progress, Harry pressed on to see more. The cat form began to show color, a blend of tawny brown and cream hues as the image grew larger.

A Lion? Harry wondered, awestruck. Talk about being a true Gryffindor!

The background began to change subtly as he watched the blurred image come to life and begin to stalk toward him, bleeding into green and browns all around. Strange trees with broad leaves broke the bright sunlight into bands of light and darkness that stretched across the ground and vegetation between him and the approaching cat. Harry noticed that the shadows threw dappled color that seemed to stay on the fur as it passed through them.

Suddenly Harry was surrounded by lush plant growth that obscured his view of his animagus image. He turned left and right, but there was no path through anywhere he could see and the image had also disappeared. The humid warmth and lush plant growth reminded Harry of a tropical habitat he had once visited at the zoo. His glasses were fogging a bit as he forced his way through the jungle-like growth, seeking a path out.

The young wizard had maybe traveled a few meters when the soft distant sounds of the jungle suddenly ceased ominously. Harry froze, listening, but could not hear anything. This exercise had become more than a little scary to his mind and he looked around for his trigger object, a broomstick naturally, that would pull him from the visualization exercise.

What he found instead were a pair of large amber feline eyes perched above his head just an arm length’s distance away.

Horrified, Harry watched the eyes slowly dilated as the massive dappled feline head, followed by a powerful body began to lunge toward him. Primordial panic swept through his frame and Harry spun to escape, but a sudden snarl and searing pain racing through his frame had him screaming out loud from fear and agony from the sharp claws slashing into his back.

The jungle surroundings disappeared with a swirling rush as Harry’s vision went dark and the pain continued to ricochet through him, spreading to every extremity. Lights returned in a swelling rush and caused him to flinch from agonizing intensity and keep his eyelids tightly shut. The stone floor was hard and cold beneath him. He must have fallen from his chair during his trance.

McGonagall’s commanding voice directed the rest of the students to proceed to their next class. She must have used a Sonorus spell from the volume, Harry thought. He opened his eyes a bit and made out the shape of three people hovering over him, but before he could speak, a new wave of agony swept over him and rendered him unconscious.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Any characters or situations that are unknown in the HP series are the author's intellectual property and should not be used without permission.

Author's Note: This fic is written for Full Sail Nate's Challenge on Portkey involving Harry in an Animagus transformation gone wrong. The genre is drama/ romance with H/Hr as the pairing. Warning: there will be humor as well...All Animagus background information used here is simply the humble author's own invention. H/Hr interaction is up and coming in the next chapter. Enjoy and Please Review!

More Than Human

Chapter Two - Cause and Consequence

Harry groggily opened his eyes and found he was, once again, in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. I have to stop ending up here, he thought as he turned his head to look around the ward. It seemed that he was the only occupant today.

As he tried to turn over to try to find Madam Pomfrey, Harry found he was bound to the bed by padded leather straps. “What’s this? Hello? Madam Pomfrey!” There was no response from Pomfrey’s office, so Harry suspected that she must be out of the wing. As he leaned up to take a good look at the straps, he caught sight of his bare arm and shouted.

“What’s going on here?”

The normal pale skin of his arm was now completely covered in brownish black downy fur. As he wondered what had happened to him, Harry realized that he was able to see clearly, but that he wasn’t wearing his glasses. His entire body still ached, but the screaming pain he’d passed out from in McGonagall’s classroom was gone. He also noted he was in pajamas and not his robes, so some time had definitely passed since Transfiguration, though he was unsure exactly how much had elapsed while he had been unconscious.

As a frisson of panic swept through him as he thought about his situation, Harry noticed a strange sensation in his fingertips that felt like a rather pleasant stretching.

Harry bent his left wrist under the strap to take a look and gaped in amazement. His normally long fingered hand had become heavier and broader with each the digits thickened and his thumb seeming to have shifted its position a bit on his hand, though he could still close it into a fist that at least looked fairly normal. When he flattened his hand out, however, inch and a half long, powerful looking curved claws extended from his fingertips in place of his fingernails.

Harry’s anxiety soared now. What had happened to him? He looked around desperately, hoping to spot someone for assistance. The sound of distant voices came from beyond the outer double doors. He stared down the ward toward the doors as his ears twitched and moved.

Hang on, twitched? Before his confusion overwhelmed his mind, the voices were suddenly clear and audible as if only a short distance away.

“Are you positive that there is no transfiguration spell that can affect his condition, Minerva?” Madame Pomfrey’s query caused Harry’s guts to freeze in terror. Was he now doomed to be stuck in whatever condition he was in forever?

McGonagall’s response alleviated his some of his fear as she said, “ Harry’s rather…precocious magical ability is blocking the normal outside reversals, I’m afraid, Poppy. But, there is still a way to recover from this change that Harry can yet achieve if he puts himself to the proper effort.” She sighed and then continued. “We should be getting back to him now, Poppy.”

Madam Pomfrey agreed with alacrity and Harry heard the sound of their approaching footsteps. As he listened, he realized that the footfalls were taking an inordinately long time to reach the Hospital Wing from where he had thought they must have been in order for him to have overheard them talking. Concentrating, he found to his astonishment, he could also discern the footsteps of two students ascending the stairs and beyond them, he heard Professor Flitwick was instructing the first years on the Light charm in his classroom on the fourth floor.

Harry let his head fall back onto his pillow as he tried to make sense of what was going on. How could he have heard Professor Flitwick from here? Why was he tied to the bed? Had he done something? Had he, god forbid, hurt someone? The teachers’ footsteps now sounded like the loudest marching cadence Harry had ever heard in his life.

They turned the corner and the cacophony of Ron and Hermione’s anxious questions to the two older women was anguishing to Harry’s hearing, causing him to instinctively flatten his ears to his skull to reduce the impact on his now sensitive eardrums.

“Professor McGonagall, what’s happened to him? Will he be alright for the game against Slytherin?” That was Ron, as always focused on his own priorities. Harry could now detect the maturity deepening of his friend’s voice clearly like a rough burr that irritated his ears a bit. If only Ron’s maturity was more evident in his head instead of just his body, Harry thought wryly. Harry felt that he had more important issues be worried about right now besides Quidditch.

“What is going on with Harry? Can we see him now, Professor?” Hermione’s voice was soft and level; its contralto timbre was more soothing to Harry. “Miss Granger, Mister Weasley, I believe I told you both to go to your classes.” McGonagall’s dry statement held hidden amusement and resignation. Both his friends protested that they hadn’t been able to visit him in Hospital like they would normally, and it was all very unfair.

Madam Pomfrey pushed open the door and caught Harry’s glance. “Ah, awake are you, Potter. Minerva, you should address his questions while I fetch him some Pepper-Up potion.” Before Harry could respond, Madam Pomfrey headed into her storeroom.

McGonagall quickly swept into the ward in a swish of tartan, closely followed by Hermione and Ron, who started rushed past her to reach his bed first.

“Harry! How are you feeling?” Hermione would have grabbed Harry’s hand, but McGonagall prevented the touch. “Just a moment, both of you. I need to check Harry first before anything else.” She said sternly as she held her wand above Harry’s head and whispered, “Anima est”. After a few moments, the wand tip glowed a brilliant blue-white and McGonagall sighed in relief.

“Good. You are in control, then, are you not, Mr. Potter?” The professor started to remove the binding straps as Harry began to vent his questions.

“What’s happened to me? How do we fix it? Why was I tied up? I didn’t hurt anyone, did I? Can I-…” His head of house stopped his questions. “What has happened, Mr. Potter is your natural propensity for doing something on a practical level that you have not completed all your theoretical study to achieve. I believe that you instinctually went from your meditation for your animal form into the actual quest for it.” Finally free of the restraints, Harry sat up and swung around on the bed to face his teacher.

Hermione immediately perched on the bed beside Harry, but Ron hung back behind McGonagall, staring down at his feet as if they were the most interesting things in the room. Harry frowned in confusion at Ron’s preoccupation, and was about to speak to Ron when his teacher conjured a mirror in front of him and Harry could see his reflection for the first time.

In place of his regular features, a broad feline nose dominated his face, offset a bit by the large green eyes caught up at the corners. His face was also covered in the same very dark brownish black down which highlighted the intense color of his eyes even more. Two rounded ears stuck up through the black mop of hair and moved to catch the sounds around him. Peering closer, he could see the faint outline of black circles around his eyes and the off center lightning bolt remained as well on his forehead. When his jaw dropped open in shock, large and powerful canine teeth were visible. Harry could not help but recoil from what he saw. “P-p-professor, what am I?” he asked, shaking.

Hermione reached out and tried to pick up his hand, but he jerked it away, terrified that his claws might hurt her. But, Hermione was not deterred from her goal, and chased his hand down and captured it.

McGonagall had been conjuring a chair and so had missed the byplay between the two teens sitting on the bed. “Mister Potter, I think I can safely say at this moment that you do possess the Animagus ability. In spades, I should say.”

She continued, “I attempted to reverse the change at the time it manifested in the class, but your innate magic rejected any attempts to ameliorate the problem.”

“Problem, Professor?” She nodded gravely, “Problem, Potter. You weren’t prepared for the actual quest for the animal form and so you instinctually panicked when the change began. You can think of it rather like a reflex. Your magic was driven by your fear and shock into freezing you halfway through the transformation. Normally, in class, you would have begun with small, localized changes such as growing fur, changing hands or feet, etc. Not a full scale change as you are embarked on currently.”

“But if you can’t reverse it, what can be done? I don’t want to be like this forever!” Harry’s voice rose due to his frustration and fear. Hermione squeezed his hand tightly to reassure him, but remained uncharacteristically silent.

“No, unfortunately, outside assistance with this change won’t be possible, Potter. The only outside way might be for Headmaster Dumbledore to attempt to overwhelm your natural resistance, but both of us feel that to be a risk we should not take unless there is no other alternative.”

“But why not, Professor? Professor Dumbledore has to help Harry!” Ron spoke up and won a frowning glare from McGonagall for his trouble.

“Because Mister Weasley it is very likely that Harry’s magic would be exhausted in the attempt and he would possibly die.”

Well, that put a new twist to his predicament, Harry thought.

“If outside intervention isn’t feasible, is there anything that Harry can do for himself?” Hermione’s voice cut through Harry’s despairing thoughts, reminding him of the conversation he’d overheard between Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall. As if his thought had conjured her, Pomfrey arrived with the promised Pepper-Up potion.

As Harry tried to drink the potion, he made the mistake of inhaling first. The incredibly powerful smell of the potion caused him to start sneezing violently and uncontrollably. Pomfrey snatched the potion away before Harry could spill it and waiting for the involuntary response of Harry’s olfactory system to stop.

When the storm of sneezes ended, Harry woke to the fact that he had fallen onto his side and his head was cradled in Hermione’s lap as she stroked his arm. Ron had finally overcome whatever his misgivings and was now seated behind Harry and restraining his legs from thrashing and sending Harry to the floor. With both his friends so close, Harry found he could clearly differentiate their smells. Hermione’s scent was a pleasant combination of cool fresh water, linen, old parchment and lavender. Ron’s scent was a bit more pungent with musk, grass, pine and sweat with something acrid underlying it. With shock, Harry’s changed senses gave him an answer.

Fear. Ron was afraid of him.

Hermione’s scent held no fear at all, which Harry appreciated. Ron’s fear was waking animal responses in him that Harry did not like to contemplate at the moment. Harry sat up and away from his friends, unsure of how to deal with this new information. He gave McGonagall a desperate look.

McGonagall recognized his distress and spoke commandingly to the other two Gryffindors. “Miss Granger, Mister Weasley, could you both return to Gryffindor Tower and retrieve Mister Potter’s books for his classes and a change of clothing and robes. He will need to stay in Hospital overnight, but he will attend classes tomorrow.”

Ron took the order with an almost relieved look and headed for the Hospital doors immediately. Hermione looked as if she wanted to protest vociferously, but McGonagall cut off any resistance by quietly requesting that she return with the books and apparel alone. Hermione looked nonplussed for an instant, then glanced at Ron’s retreating back and grimaced before nodding in agreement.

“I’ll be back in just short while, Harry. I promise.” With that, Hermione left the ward in pursuit of Ron.

Harry hung his head in his hands, his depression palpable. Pomfrey bustled back up with the newly scentless version of the Pepper-Up potion. He took the potion silently and felt its energy throughout his body. It also seemed to sharpen his senses acutely as well. McGonagall spoke up after Pomfrey had retreated back to her office.

“Now, tell me, Harry. What is your form?”

“I’m not exactly sure, Professor. I think it’s a Leopard, like the one you showed us in class. At first, I thought it was a lion.” McGonagall reached over and pushed Harry’s pajama sleeve back and examined the fur and its shadings carefully.

“No, not precisely a Leopard, I would say. See the spot pattern?”

Harry stared hard and saw that the spots seemed to form circles like he had seen on the Leopard. He said as much to McGonagall, who pursed her lips and pointed to one of those circles. “See the spot in the middle of the circle?”

“Yes, but does that mean something?”

“Your form is a melanized version that colloquially is referred to as a “Black Panther” though it is neither black nor a panther. This melanized form appears in the Leopard, but also in the larger cousin of the Leopard. I believe, Mister Potter, that your form is that of a Black Jaguar.”

“Jaguar? Not a Leopard?”

“The spot pattern confirms my suspicion as well as the changes to your form. You have gained quite a bit of mass above your normal amount though your form is reflecting a sub-adult animal, which is correct. Jaguars are the third largest of the Big Cats, after Tigers and Lions. A fully-grown male Jaguar can weigh up 120 kilograms and can pull down prey as large as cattle and horses.” McGonagall peered over the top of her square glasses seriously. “Your animal form came to you in your visualization?”

“Yes, Professor, though at the end it seemed to be stalking me. I ran…”

“Ah, I see. Potter, your retreat from the image came at the worst time I’m afraid. Now, your inner image is at war with your animal image. Until you can complete the full transformation, you are in peril of becoming stuck as you are permanently.”

“But exactly how do I complete the change? If my magic is set against it…?”

“Your mind holds the key, Potter. Your visualizations got you into the change, and they can also lead you through and out again.”

Harry found he was loathe to think about going into a visualization again, given the results he had the last time, but there seemed to be no other way for him.

“Should I try another trance, now?”

“No, rest until tomorrow, Harry. The reflexive nature of your response to protect yourself cannot be easily overcome. Give it and yourself a chance to relax first. If you are able to calm your fears and accept what is happening, you may notice your changes will continue gradually. This would be the most excellent sign that you will be able to complete the full shift and then return to your normal form.” That sounded reasonable to Harry and he nodded, finally hopeful that he could deal with change.

“One word of caution, Harry,” McGonagall’s voice and eyes were filled with grave concern. Harry, unused to his head of house using his given name, met her eyes instantly.

“You need to be aware that this slower Transformative cycle allows for more integration of the animal’s sensory perception for the wizard. This will allow you greater use of the enhanced senses, even while in human form.” He started to smile at the thought, but McGonagall continued quickly. “However, there will also be greater difficulty in controlling instinctive responses to stimuli. Hence, it was this concern that had me check to see if you were in control or if your psyche was overwhelmed by the animal form.”

This is the part I’m definitely not going to like, I can already see it, he thought as McGonagall stood up and Vanished the chair she had conjured previous. She then turned back to the young man on the bed and said, “You must remain in control, Harry, for your own sake as well as for the sake of your fellow students. If you become feral, then we will have no choice but to intervene. Either we will have to force the change back, and in so doing risk your life or you will have to caged for the rest of your life.” Harry was sure that his eyes reflected the horror of those alternatives to his teacher, for she closed her eyes as she finished, “This is one of the hardest things about the Animagi, Harry. Sometimes magic isn’t always enough to save someone.”

Harry lay back down on the bed as McGonagall left the ward in silence.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Any characters or situations that are unknown in the HP series are the author's intellectual property and should not be used without permission.

Author's Note: This fic is written for Full Sail Nate's Challenge on Portkey involving Harry in an Animagus transformation gone wrong. The genre is drama/ romance with H/Hr as the pairing. Warning: there will be humor as well...All Animagus background information used here is simply the humble author's own invention.

I've noticed a trend developing in my writing as I continue…the chapters are getting longer and longer! Sorry about that, folks.

Enjoy and Please Review!

More Than Human

Chapter Three - Pillows and Potions

How long Harry had lain in his cot staring at the ceiling after McGonagall's departure he could not say, but when Hermione finally returned with his books and a change of clothing, Harry was grateful for her company. The last thing he wanted to do was to be alone with his own thoughts.

“Here, Harry. I've brought all your books for your classes tomorrow.” Hermione had them neatly stacked on his bedside table in a trice. Sighing and without much interest, Harry glanced over the pile until one tome riveted his attention…

“Oh, no! We've got Potions in the afternoon tomorrow!”

Hermione looked up from the nearby bed where she had been settling her own books and parchments. She was planning to keep Harry company until dinner. She frowned at his obvious dismay. “Well, yes, we do, Harry. You do realize if you can't miss a class in NEWT Potions and not expect Snape not to retaliate somehow.”

Glaring angrily, Harry motioned to his furry torso, from which he had removed the increasingly irritating pajama top. “The Slytherins will make my life hell, Hermione. Especially Malfoy and his goons. And Snape! They'll never let an opportunity to cause me misery like this pass. I'm not going.”

“Yes, you are going. Snape is just looking for an excuse to drop you. McGonagall was specific, Harry. You have to go to class.”

“Like this? The changes to my hands make holding a quill tricky not to mention my now having claws” He held his right hand up and watched it flex it until the razor sharp claws extended, “ So how will I managed the delicate stuff in Potions, huh?” He glanced up from his displayed claws to find Hermione's attention riveted on them, a strange expression present in her brown eyes. Harry, fearing what her reaction might mean, quickly retracted the claws and lowered his hand.

Hermione was slow to resurface from her preoccupation, staring into space where Harry had held his hand. Curious as to what she was thinking, Harry made a question of her name. “Hermione?” With a surprised jerk, she came back to the conversation, and quickly stuttered, “W-w-what did you say?”

“How can I do the Potions work given what my hands are now?” Harry waited anxiously for her answer, while mentally wondering how he could avoid the class without drawing Hermione's ire.

Hermione smiled, “Because, you'll be working with me.”

“What, how? That greasy git would never let you help me.” Harry bitterly stated.

She sat on the neighboring cot and tucked her legs underneath as she pulled her Arithmancy text from her bag before she answered. “McGonagall and Dumbeldore have made sure that special… dispensations have been made by Professor Snape for your regular class attendance. They don't want you to miss any lectures if at all possible while you're temporarily in…flux, so to speak.”

Harry began to be suspicious now. “How do you know all that?”

Hermione had the grace to blush slightly and admitted, “Professor McGonagall spoke to me before I left Gryffindor Tower to bring you your books.”

“Spoke to you?” He was becoming angry at the thought of being discussed about instead of being talked to directly. He'd had enough of that during his last school term.

Hermione recognized his growing rage and quirked an eyebrow at him. “Who else do you think is going to help you, you prat?” Harry's anger subsided. He should not take out his frustration on one of his best friends. Friend…

“Where's Ron?”

A flash of anger and annoyance crossed her face before she composed her expression. “He's studying right now. He said he would try to visit tomorrow morning.”

There was something amiss between Ron and Hermione, Harry could feel it; but in his current state, knew there was little he could do to address the problem. Giving in with some reluctance to Hermione's insistence, Harry started to read his Potions assignment. Hermione returned her attention to her Arithmancy.

They passed a quiet hour at their respective tasks. Hermione's scent or small motions she unconsciously made occasionally distracted Harry, but he forced himself to stay focused on his work. McGonagall's warning about becoming feral continued to play over and over in the back of his mind.

He completed the Potions scroll with a couple of inches to spare, though he noticed the effort to write was steadily increasing. Shaking out the cramp from his hand, Harry put the Potions textbook aside and grabbed his Charms text. Luckily enough for him, Harry had only been assigned a reading selection for Professor Flitwick's class.

Rolling over onto his stomach, he opened the book and began to read the section on enchanting gems to create enhancements for jewelry or weapons. Harry had read the text section once and was returning to reread the parts that had not made sense previously when Hermione sat up with an exclamation.

“You have a spot pattern in your fur!” Harry looked over at his friend and raised an inquiring brow.

“So?”

“So? Do you know what animal you're changing into then?” Harry wrinkled his brow, perplexed by Hermione's question. “Hermione, you told me you spoke to Professor McGonagall.”

“Yes, but only in general about your change. She warned me about the slowness of the transformation and the danger of becoming feral. Not in the specific…so, what are you? A big cat surely, but what kind? A Leopard?”

Harry shook his head. “Professor McGonagall identified me as a Black Jaguar”

Hermione blinked, her face going blank as she digested that statement, then frowned disappointedly. “Interesting. I don't really know much about Jaguars.”

“I don't believe it, there's something you don't know?” Harry snickered.

Hermione scowled darkly. “I may not know now, but I will as soon as I can get to the Library.”

Harry nodded in mock seriousness. “I understand. Such a deficit in knowledge is not to be tolerated, of course, completely unacceptable in a young woman such as you, Miss Granger. No dinner for you tonight.” Harry's put-on stuffy tone was belied by the twinkle in his green eyes. Hermione inhaled sharply as she prepared to rebut him, but then caught the humor in his gaze. She settled on simply sticking out her tongue at him, instead.

“Oh, that's mature, Miss Prefect.” Harry chuckled, and returned the gesture. He tried to go back to his work, but could feel his attention wavering and Hermione's scent kept making him glance over at her. Desperate for distraction, Harry started to read out loud from the Charms text with funny running commentary.

At first, she just ignored him, but as he continued she asked him to stop. Harry just shook his head and continued. The campaign of annoyance finally came to an end when Hermione, frustrated, tossed the pillow from her cot into his face. Harry, amazed at her response, gazed wide-eyed at his friend, who had both her hands covering her mouth in shock at what she had just done.

Of course, that started the full, all-out pillow fight.

They pelted each with their respective weapons, laughing and groaning in turns as hits were scored and ducked. They circled around Harry's bed, trading pillow blows. To Harry's chagrin, he was the one having to avoid the remarkably accurate shots from Hermione's pillow.

Neither teen noticed Madam Pomfrey stick her head out from her office to see what was causing the ruckus in her Hospital. She seemed ready to order them to stop, but then just smiled and withdrew back into her office and quietly shut the door.

Finally exhausted, Harry fell back onto his bed and cried for mercy. After a few more swats just to ensure her victory, Hermione relented and also collapsed. They panted a bit before the laughter began. Harry could not stop the hilarity bubbling up from within him. It was as if a great weight had been lifted from his the center of his chest and all the gray feelings were swept away. Hermione at first stared at him as if he had gone mad, but soon caught giggles as well.

The release of tension and stress for Harry was amazing, almost similar to the feeling of flying on his broomstick. When that thought crossed his mind, he recognized now that flying was his way of relieving his stress. He smiled as he lay back and imagined himself to be flying. At the corner of his perception he could hear Hermione gathering her books and quills together and placing them in her book bag.

He turned his head to smile at her as she began to tell him she would see him in a few hours after dinner. “And remember, Harry, you have to attend Pot-” Her voice had been growing softer and farther away, and Harry was puzzled as to why that would be since he was staring directly at her and she had not moved. Then suddenly, his world went black with pain.

Distantly, Harry could hear someone screaming in abject agony, but could not identify who the pain dominated his entire mind. His hands and feet felt like glass shards were being driven in all the way to bone. Internally, the snaps and crackles resonating in his head corresponded to sharp pain peaks. Breathing became difficult as pressure built around his chest and abdomen. Rolling over in an effort to escape the pain, a final ripple of torment tore down his spine and then seemed to pass beyond his tailbone.

Harry came back to consciousness to find Hermione and Madam Pomfrey hovering above with identical looks of deep concern for him. In a small corner of Harry's mind, he thought the similar expressions on the two women were amusing as it made them look more than a bit alike. The ache as his tailbone became persistent and instinctively, he reached back or at least tried. The physiological changes now had changed his flexibility and the changes to his skeletal structure were hampering his range of motion. Pomfrey, deducing that he was experiencing discomfort in the region of his posterior, began to palpate the area.

Thankful for the dark fur on his face that hid his blush, Harry glanced over to catch Hermione's expression, which did not seem to carry any humor or embarrassment at the situation. Yeah, of course not, Harry thought, she's not being felt up by a teacher!

He was grateful when Pomfrey, finally, stopped her examination and said, “Ah, that's the problem.” She tapped her wand on the back of Harry's pajama bottoms. “Ab vestimentum”

A slot appeared and through it came the most recent change in Harry's form. It was his tail, swishing back and forth quickly, communicating Harry's anxiety and discomfort. The pain continued to swell and ebb through Harry even after his tail was released from its cloth binding.

“It still hurts, Madam Pomfrey. Can I have a potion?”

Madam Pomfrey looked distressed as she shook her head. “I'm afraid I can't give you anything for the pain, Potter.” He stared at the older woman in shock, curling into a fetal ball to ward off the pain. She sighed, then reached out to place her cool hand against Harry's brow.

“The pain functions as a gauge for the change, Mr. Potter. For me to remove the pain might complicate further an already complicated problem.” Hermione shook her head in disbelief.

“You can't let him just suffer, Madam Pomfrey! Why won't you help him?”

“Be quiet, Ms. Granger.” the older woman spoke sternly as she helped Harry roll back onto his back. “If the pain is removed the changes may go astray or even too far for his body to handle. It would be like removing the pain from someone's broken leg and then letting him or her walk around on the limb. The pain serves the function of telling the body when an activity is dangerous or detrimental. In the case of Animagus, it helps them guide the change into specific pathways that become permanent with time and practice.”

Hermione's face showed her flash of understanding. “The botched transformations in the text…the ones where the change became monstrous and killed the wizard or witch. Those were the ones that took pain relief potions?” Pomfrey nodded, her brows arched in surprise at Hermione's perception.

As they had talked, the agony had receded to manageable levels, and Harry uncurled slowly. Pomfrey began a firm massage on his calves to reduce the knotting in the muscles. After a few moments, the sore stiffness began to melt away and Harry sighed in some relief. Pomfrey finished on his lower legs and was about to move to his back and shoulders when the sound of loud approaching footsteps caught Harry's attention and directed to the outer doors.

The nurse saw Harry's gaze directed toward outside the ward, and turned to look herself before the double doors burst inward with a group of Hufflepuffs and their anxious Head of House, Professor Sprout.

“Oh, Madam Pomfrey, I have a very bad case of bubotuber pus exposure here. The poor boy, nearly the complete container spilled over him.” Professor Sprout wrung her hands and the other Hufflepuffs withdrew to a safe distance once their housemate was placed on the cot. His outer robes had been partially eaten away by the strong compound, exposing enormous blisters covering his chest, neck, face and arms.

Pomfrey swept through the gathered Hufflepuffs like a ship through water, leaving them to eddy in her wake. A few cast surreptitious looks in Harry direction, but most stayed focused on their stricken fellow Hufflepuff. From the scattered muttering and whispering of the students, Harry gathered that the Slytherins, and particularly Malfoy, had had something to do with the accident.

Harry now discovered that his now sensitive hearing had some drawbacks when it came to multiple sources of sound like the conversation among the Hufflepuffs. He simply heard too much all at once and was having trouble following any one particular voice. Finally, he simply flattened his ears to his skulls to reduce the input and gave up on listening any longer.

Hermione must have noticed his discomfort, for she reached over and put her hand on his shoulder comfortingly. The Hufflepuff were directed to leave Madam Pomfrey to her work and their Head of House shooed them from the ward, while Pomfrey pulled screens around the bed of the stricken boy.

“Who was it, Hermione? Did you see?”

“Wayne Hopkins. He's in the same year with us. Poor boy, half his body is covered in the blisters.” Harry remembered in his fourth year that Hermione had gained an intimate knowledge of the agony bubotuber pus could inflict from a tainted letter sent from an irate reader of Rita Skeeter's gossip column.

Harry tried to arch his body off the cot to gaze over at the screened cot where Madam Pomfrey's soft tones were trying to soothe the now weeping Hufflepuff boy, but the muscles in his back were as stiff as boards and he groaned in defeat and slumped back. Hermione turned back to him at that and arched her eyebrows in question. For a moment, Harry's sense of the ridiculous was tickled by her resemblance to Pomfrey again.

“My back is stiff and aches quite a bit is all.” Harry turned back onto his stomach and draped his arms over the sides of the cot in a vain attempt to stretch out his abused back muscles. He was startled by a sharp nudge on his left hip, followed by Hermione's most bossy tones.

“Oh, move over. You'll never get anywhere that way.”

Harry, accustomed by long exposure to what the results would be if he did not obey this particular tone in Hermione's voice, shifted over so she could perch on the side of the cot. Wondering what she was about, he turned his head to ask, but her hands were already kneading the muscles of his shoulders and neck. The sense of well being flowed from her ministrations and Harry forgot any questions he might have had and simply chose to bask in the moment, burying his head into his pillow as he sighed.

Hermione's massage of his tortured back continued as she commented. “My mother always did this for me when I was ill. I especially had a really bad case of the flu once, and this was the only way I could get any relief from the body aches.”

Harry merely grunted, wordless and becoming progressively more boneless as she continued rubbing and kneading. Harry had never really been comfortable with physical contact with people given his early life with the Dursleys, where any contact equated to pain in Harry's lexicon. He had been getting more at ease with Ron and Hermione's hugs and touches, but had not allowed anyone else to cross into his personal space willingly. This type of physical contact, he realized suddenly, he would actively invite in the future.

Before he became uneasy at the strange feelings burgeoning at his best friend's touch, she shifted the massage to his mid and lower back, and all thought ceased. His world narrowed down to Hermione's healing touch and warm darkness began to envelope him. How long the massage continued, Harry could not say, but when he surfaced from the comfortable trance, Hermione's hands were not kneading, but rather were stroking his back.

He then became aware of a vibration, rhythmic and soothing, passing through the center of his chest. What was that? he wondered. Hermione's hands were now bestowing long soft strokes tracking from the back of his head all the way to his lower back. Almost like she was petting…

Petting? And the vibration, periodic and rumbling…he was purring!

He turned his head to look back over his shoulder at Hermione, who was still stroking him with a strange, dreamy look on her face. Her touch was so soft and gentle that Harry was loath to disturb the peaceful moment, but he felt a little uncomfortable about watching her without her knowledge. So after a few minutes and when she still had not registered Harry's gaze on her face, he spoke questioningly, “Hermione?”

With a startled jerk, she snapped to attention and blinked owlishly at her friend for a long moment, her hand stopped mid-stroke on his back. Harry could not find his voice in the confusion that filled his mind. What was going on here?

“Oh, look at the time!” Hermione glanced at her watch ostentatiously, and then jumped up to gather her book bag. “I've got to get to dinner.” She kept her face turned away from Harry as she said this, pretending to be engrossed in arranging the contents of her bag, but Harry was not fooled by her actions. His heightened senses told him Hermione was upset and troubled. Her scent became muddied, her heartbeat was racing and Harry could detect a flush of embarrassment on her cheeks.

Hang on, her heartbeat? Before he could come to terms with this new information, Hermione had made good her escape from the ward, leaving Harry wondering why he felt a keen need to pursue his best friend. Unknowingly, he growled in frustration and flopped onto his back to gaze up at the ceiling.

The moans and whimpers of the injured boy on the other side of the ward trailed into silence as the pain-killing sleeping potion took effect. The scent of the bubotuber pus was strong in Harry's nostrils, sharp and stinging like hot pepper. Another scent underlay the scent bubotuber, a strangely familiar one.

Pomfrey came from behind one of the screens with the remnants of Hopkin's robes and carefully laid the contaminated clothing on a hospital table before swishing back behind the curtains. Harry could hear her casting inflammation reducing spells. Given the number of times he had been in the Hospital wing, he was gaining a good amount of knowledge in the healing spells. The familiar scent came more strongly now, emanating from the robes, causing Harry to roll out of his cot and stiffly walk over to them.

The closer he came, the bubotuber sharpness began to cause his eyes to water, but now Harry knew that combination of scent. The dankness of mushrooms overlaid by an artificial green musk and patchouli. Malfoy.

Pomfrey was finishing up with Wayne and not wanting to be caught snooping, Harry rushed back to his bed. Much faster than he had thought possible in fact, since instinctively he moved across the room on all fours. In just three silent bounds he covered the distance of more that 20 meters to reach his cot before Pomfrey came out from behind the curtains. He sat on his bed and held up his hands to examine them carefully.

He could see that heavy sound deadening pads now covered his palms and his fingers had shrunk in length more that they had previously. His claws were a touch longer but just as sharp. As he flexed them, he wanted to scratch them over something. His feet had shifted as well, with claws and pads matching his hands, but their structure was still mainly human. His spine had become more flexible and his chest had narrowed as his mass had shifted.

Madam Pomfrey caught sight of him examining his hands and asked matter-of-factly, “Do you require a scratching post, Mr Potter?”

Harry was dumbfounded at her question but shook his head vehemently.

“Well, when you do, please let me know. You should probably need to perform marking behavior before long.”

Again, Harry was thankful for the fur that hid his blush. He had studied several animal groups for the Animagus class and was well aware of what “marking” activity consisted. Pomfrey moved toward him and requested him to lie down for the rest of his therapy. Harry hurried to tell her Hermione had assisted with a massage and that he felt quite better now.

The school nurse nodded with a small smile. “Ms. Granger is indeed very perceptive and helpful. I trust that you appreciate those attributes in her character.”

“Yes, I do, Madam Pomfrey.”

At that moment, a suddenly “pop” occurred at the foot of the bed and Harry and Madam Pomfrey saw the multi-hatted head of Dobby appear above the foot rail.

“Dobby has Harry Potter's dinner, ma'am.” Madam Pomfrey thanked the little house-elf, whose ears waggled in pleasure from her praise. He set the tray of triple portion of roast chicken, potatoes and green beans on Harry's table and asked, “Does Harry Potter require anything else? Dobby will fetch anything Harry Potter needs or wants.”

Harry shook his head. “No, Dobby. I don't believe I need anything. Thanks for asking.”

Dobby leaned forward and with an air of someone daring to do some fearful task, laid his hand on Harry's leg.

“Dobby is most concerned, sir. Harry Potter is in danger. Dobby must help Harry Potter for Harry Potter freed Dobby and Dobby is most grateful.”

Harry carefully patted Dobby's hand to comfort the little House-elf who was becoming alarmingly emotional. “I'll be fine, Dobby. Please don't fret.” The house-elf seemed unsure, but Harry made every effort to impress on Dobby that he would be fine and that under no circumstances was Dobby to assist him.

Madam Pomfrey bolstered Harry's claims and Dobby was sent away, mollified for the time being.

“Now, finish your dinner and then a nap, young man. Slow shifts take a great deal out of a person, and I expect Ms Granger and Mr Weasley will be here this evening to study with you as well.”

Harry, starved, was already making in-roads on his dinner and simply opted to nod in agreement with Madam Pomfrey's dictum since his mouth was full. The nurse retreated to her office with a satisfied sniff.

The chicken smelled heavenly, and almost before Harry realized, it was totally consumed. The potatoes were fine enough, but Harry found he could only tolerate maybe a third of the portion he was given. When he reached the green beans, he ended up spitting out the very first mouthful with a disgusted snarl. It seemed his changes were more that simply external at this point.

His appetite appeased for the moment, Harry found it easy to curl up and start to drift off, but a flash of motion near the door that caused Harry's eyes to open and fixate on a small creature heading across the room towards him.

Crookshanks.

The ginger marmalade tomcat picked his way silently across the floor to Harry's side, and placing his front paws on the side of the bed, put his head up near Harry's to sniff curiously at the young wizard. Harry put his head down closer to sniff at Crookshanks as well, mirroring the other feline's actions.

The smaller cat's scent did not trouble Harry's territorial instincts, much to Harry's amazement, since he had expected some difficulties with those parts of a big cat's nature. Crookshanks' own scent was blended with Hermione's distinctive one, and Harry responded by rumbling deeply. The tomcat meowed and hopped up onto the bed beside the young wizard and curled up in the classic pose with his front paws turned under and began to purr in earnest.

The sound seemed to envelope Harry and he fell into a contented sleep beside the ginger cat.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Any characters or situations that are unknown in the HP series are the author's intellectual property and should not be used without permission.

Author's Note: This fic is written for Full Sail Nate's Challenge on Portkey involving Harry in an Animagus transformation gone wrong. The genre is drama/ romance with H/Hr as the pairing. Warning: there will be humor as well...All Animagus background information used here is simply the humble author's own invention.

After much agonizing, I’ve split a very long chapter (which I’m still refining btw) so that the readers have something to read.

Enjoy and Please Review! More Than Human Chapter Four – The Morning After

Harry found himself moving through the jungle he had envisioned in McGonagall’s class once more. The low snarls and soft footfalls of the spirit-jaguar sounded through the lush vegetation. He could feel his ears pricking to attention and started to follow the sounds.

The trees and brush seemed taller this time, until Harry realized his point of view had changed. He looked down and saw his large dark paws moving over the leaf litter with barely a whisper of sound. The spirit animal’s calls began to move away, and Harry rushed to catch up. He needed to find the creature to complete his change fully.

Bursting through the tall grass, the young wizard found himself in a remarkably lovely clearing with a waterfall grotto. Orchids and verdant tropical flowers bloomed under the protective eaves of the trees, and the cheerful chatter of the small shallow brook over it’s rocky bed was soothing. Even the air seemed sharply clear and clean, causing Harry to inhale deeply. As he admired the grove, all sound suddenly stopped.

Remembering the events of his last excursion, Harry turned about, hoping to locate his jaguar spirit so he could finally confront his fears, but there was no animal to be seen. Frustrated, Harry let out a yell that sounded more like a feline growl.

Great, he thought, now I can’t even yell properly when I want to.

A sudden flash of light from the streambed distracted him from his momentary flash of anger. Creeping closer to the stream, he cautiously peered down into the clear rushing water to see a round silver disc on the bottom. A mirror.

Wondering what the mirror could be about, Harry moved closer and stared down into his altered image. Now the feline changes were even more apparent in his eyes and face, though the dark brownish-black pelt put the gemlike color of his now-larger eyes into even further prominence.

He had only stared for a moment when a glowing amber light reflected on the edge of the mirror. Harry raised his head to see a brilliant reddish amber glow behind the sheer curtain of falling water at the base of the falls. The globe of light seemed to pulse as it began to grow. As he watched, Harry felt a sudden pounding in his chest.

His heart was beating in time with the pulsing of the light, becoming heavier as the light grew. Icy fear coursed down his spine. What was happening to him now?

Suddenly, sound returned with a starling rush and the light flared to a blinding brilliance that encompassed Harry. The sounds were indistinct and echoed as if coming from a deep well. The light began to bleed into a deep crimson and Harry felt heat from all around. Frightened now, Harry began to struggle to win free of the dream state. The heat and pressure began to intensify, and Harry began to feel weak. His heart was slowing its beat and the red light was continuing to deepen into darkness. The only thing remaining constant was the sound.

Am I dying? He wondered, still struggling feebly against the tide. Is this what death feels like? A single sweet note sang bove the mounting background noise, both familiar and unknown at the same time. The sound was swallowed by the surrounding noises became sharply louder, and then Harry recognized Hermione’s voice, raised in anger.

“Ron, NO! Leave him alone!”

The smothering darkness retreated in a rush, and Harry struggled to pry open his eyes, which felt sticky and gritty from sleep. Crookshanks shifted against his chest, and then lunged sharply and spit.

A bellow of pain came from just above Harry’s head, causing adrenaline to surge through his awakening body.

“Bloody cat scratched me!” Ron’s voice registered dimly in Harry’s brain, as Crookshanks’ weight suddenly disappeared from Harry’s chest. A yowl of feline pain was followed by Hermione’s incensed tones.

“How dare you strike my cat? Leave Crookshanks alone, Ron, or I’ll hex your nose right off your face!”

Harry’s eyes finally opened to a dark blur of robes too close for comfort to his face. Instinctively, Harry lashed out with a loud snarl at the figure stooping over him.

“Ahhh!”

“Harry! No!”

“Mister Potter, control your…”

Dumbledore’s voice sounded over the cacophony. “Everyone move back, quickly.”

Harry sat up slowly, still blinking rather sleepily. What was going on?

Dumbledore stood in front of a group that included his best friends. McGonagall frowned at him from beside Hermione, while Madam Pomfrey moved around the cot to Harry’s other side, her wand raised to the ready. Ron was examining the front of his robes where there were now four parallel rips across them at waist level and then glaring at Harry from just behind Dumbledore.

Dumbledore’s expression was stern with no trace of a twinkle. “Harry, are you in control?” Shamefaced, Harry realized he was the cause of the rips in Ron’s robes.

“Yes, sir. I was just…startled when I woke up.”

Dumbledore’s eyes began twinkle at that. “Very well then. I expect to see you before dinner this evening to continue your Occulmency studies.” Harry nodded solemnly, as the headmaster called Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall aside for a private word, as Harry said earnestly, “I’m so sorry, Ron. I didn’t mean to…”

“Didn’t mean to? Ballocks, you did mean to!” Ron’s face was suffused with red, which was never a good sign in Harry’s experience with his volatile friend. He backed a few steps further away from Harry as he continued, “You’re becoming feral, I’ll bet.”

Hermione shook her head with annoyance, “Honestly, Ron, just because an Animagus change is a little off the first time doesn’t always mean the witch or wizard automatically goes feral. Did you listen to anything I said last night?”

Harry smirked at that remark. He felt surehe could guess the answer to that question with dead-on accuracy. As the pair began their usual descent into a row over Ron’s lack of attention, a small pain-filled mew sounded from under Harry’s bed and he hung his body precariously over the side of the cot to see Crookshanks curled up into a defensive ball with his left front leg held unnaturally stiff beneath the bed.

“Hermione,” Harry looked up from his position to his bickering friends, “Crookshanks is hurt.”

Hermione stopped her harangue about Ron’s lack of attention to her mid-spate and knelt down to try to call her familiar to out to her, but Crookshanks refused to move. Ron looked a little shame-faced as well as worried as Hermione shot a hot glare in his direction. She reached under the cot, but the cat was having none of that. He hissed and scratched Hermione before she could touch him.

“Ouch! Crookshanks, I’m trying to help!”

Harry slid out of bed and crouched on all fours beside Hermione and found the position was much more comfortable to him than standing or sitting. Boy, what Malfoy could say if I had to go round on all fours, he thought wryly.

He nudged his female friend gently aside and called to Crookshanks. The cat painfully limped out from underneath the bed and into Harry’s grasp. He carefully lifted the injured cat to the bed. Hermione was staring intensely at him as he turned back toward her and Harry felt a moment of discomfort at her inscrutable expression.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Hermione opened her mounth to answer but then just shook her head and sat down beside her familiar. Harry shifted back as the school nurse came round to the other side of the bed to examine the tomcat. He turned back toward his other best friend and Ron’s quick backward movement both surprised and hurt Harry. Fear tainted the air, and Harry breathed shallowly to avoid responding to the emotion his male friend exuded.

“Er -- I really am sorry, Ron, but you startled me pretty badly.”

Ron just looked away toward his feet and said nothing. A muscle jerked beside his jaw, betraying his tension. With a sad look and a sigh, Harry turned back to the cot instead of trying to force Ron to talk to him. Dumbledore and McGonagall finished their discussion and rejoined the group.

Pomfrey and Hermione huddled over the injured familiar as Harry straitened his back as best as he could, but now there was a definite hunching in his spine. Ron kept a distinct distance between them, but also moved forward to watch the two females fussing over the tomcat. Pomfrey cast a quick mending spell, and Crookshanks began to purr in his normal chainsaw buzz. Hermione gathered him up quickly and shooting another condemning look at Ron, which caused him to shuffle his feet and grimace, she asked McGonagall, “Should I show Harry his temporary quarters before breakfast, Professor?”

Harry’s Head of House nodded sharply before she and Dumbledore left the ward. Pomfrey had already retreated to her office as Ron dithered at what he deemed a safe distance as Harry questioned, “Quarters? I can’t stay in my dorm?” Hermione shook her head sadly.

“McGonagall wanted to reassure the rest of the House that you wouldn’t be a danger, so you’ll have to stay in a special suite off the Common Room. Ron and your other roommates have already moved your things there.”

Harry flopped back down on the hospital cot, dejected.

“I’m sorry, Harry, but until the change completes, it was the only way you could stay in Gryffindor Tower.” He glanced up at Ron.

“Thanks for moving my trunk, mate. I’m sorry for, er, your robes. I’ll buy you a new set.”

Ron looked over at Harry, his features betraying mixed emotions before muttering, “Don’t need to, I’ll mend them later.” Harry grinned at that, causing Ron to flinch back and pale. His friend’s negative response caused the smile to slip from his face.

“C’mon, Hermione, hurry up and tell him where the room is so we can go to breakfast.” Ron’s voice was coldly impatient.

Hermione raised a brow and responded tartly, “If you’re that hungry, go ahead and go down. Harry and I will meet you there after we stop at his room.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with him! He’s dangerous!”

Hermione was having none of that. “More dangerous than a Mountain Troll? Harry is our best friend, even if you’ve seemed to forgotten that fact! I’m not going to abandon him no matter what happens!”

Ron reddened and spat out, anger making his fear even more acrid and biting to Harry’s nose. “Even if he eats you? I’m not going to wait around to find out. You’re on your own!” He stormed out of the ward, chuntering under his breath until the swinging doors closed behind. Harry sighed and buried his face in his paw-hands. Now his best friend was an enemy again, as he’d been during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Why did this need to be?

Hermione’s hand gently rested on his shoulder as Crookshanks purred deeply. “He just afraid of the horror stories he’s been told, you realize. He come round, like always.”

Harry lifted his head. “Why aren’t you afraid of me, then? You should be…”

“I trust you, Harry. With my life.”

Harry felt emotion welling up, choking his voice. Hermione slid her arm around hois shoulders and hugged tightly. He buried his head against her shoulder. After a short time, Hermione started to giggle, causing Harry to raise his head to question her with his eyes.

She reached out and touched his cheeks softly, causing the most amazingly pleasant sensation to shoot through him.

“Your whiskers are ticklish.” Harry, curious now, went to his bed table and picked up the hand mirror. His body had felt heavier, but as Hermione had pointed out, his nose had altered further and now sported a complete set of whiskers.

Hermione went to Pomfrey’s office as Harry changed into his robes. His feet had also shifted, making wearing shoes now impossible. His voice had also shifted in timbre and he found some sounds were now difficult to pronounce completely.

As He and Hermione climbed the staircases to Gryffindor Tower, many students stopped to stare or whisper to their friends as the pair passed. Harry felt a surge of discomfort and anger at the attention, but knew that until the change completed, he was in for another bout of scrutiny and gossip from his fellow students.

The Gryffindor Common Room was deserted when they passed through the portrait hole. Hermione lead him over to a tapestry of a lady witch and knight and pulled it aside to reveal a door now in the formerly blank wall. The door glowed briefly as Hermione used the password “Seeker” and opened with an audible click.

The room was exactly similar to his dorm room, except for the furniture, which all began to alter as Harry entered. Legs shortened, pillows shifted and the bed broadened as Harry watched.

“McGonagall said that might happen. The room is enchanted to adjust itself to your body’s needs as the change continues.” Hermione set Crookshanks down as she went across the room to another door in the opposite wall. It lead to a wooded, wild looking area about half the size of the Great Hall. “This courtyard is to allow you to express any animal impulses safely.”

Harry raised a brow at that, but before he could really think of a question, his stomach rumbled in hunger.

Hermione cut short any other description and they headed down to the Great Hall to join the rest of the school.

More than Human

Chapter Five - Chambers & Charms

The Great Hall was a tumult of noise and activity as Harry and Hermione walked through the gilded doorway. As their entrance registered, the ambient conversation dropped to whispers as students pointed or leaned close to their neighbors and all attention seemed to focus on the two Gryffindors.

Hermione marched directly to the Gryffindor table with her head high while Harry dropped his gaze to the floor as he followed after her. A wave of excruciating self-consciousness swamped him once more. Hermione grabbed a seat at a fairly open area at the table and Harry took a place beside her. He noticed several other Gryffindors shift further away from him, and bitter bile stung his throat. They were afraid of him.

Seated across the table from Harry, Neville spoke up. "Wow, Harry! What animal are you going to be?" The lack of fear or malice in his roommate's question reduced Harry's innate discomfort at the question.

"McGonagall thinks I'll be a black jaguar." He answered as the dishes appeared before them. Harry's stomach rumbled at the smell of the sausages on the platter in front of Hermione. After she took a portion, she handed the meat platter to Harry who snatched several pieces off onto his plate.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him from putting the platter back on the table and turning to see who had touched him; Harry found Dean had taken the seat on his left. He motioned for Harry to hand him the dish.

Slightly bemused by Dean and Neville's open acceptance, Harry silently passed the tray to his fellow Gryffindor.

"How goes the change then, Harry?" Dean asked quietly.

"Could be a bit quicker and less dangerous." Harry replied.

Dean snickered at Harry's sour observation. "For you? I don't think that would be normal, do you?"

Harry scowled at Dean's rather accurate jest, his ears flattening out and eyes narrowing.

Ginny slid into the seat across from Dean and stared for a long minute at Harry. She cocked her head and gave a sharp nod before saying, "Looks good, Harry. Does Professor McGonagall know when you'll complete the metamorphosis?"

Harry shook his head as she grabbed the meat platter from Dean. Neville drew Harry's attention in order to have him pass the breadbasket. The smell of the bread lingered pleasantly in Harry's nostrils for a time, but he found that the thought of bread was now rather disgusting to him.

The group of Gryffindors around Harry kept a constant chatter going regarding classes, homework and school activities that was comfortable and easy. The meal period actually was passing by pleasantly and Harry found he was growing more and more relaxed as time went along.

Unfortunately, his comfortable state was not destined to last.

Luna Lovegood, who had drifted over to chat with Ginny first, had just queried Harry about some of the variables and realities of his Animagus changes when Malfoy and his ubiquitous cronies slunk into view. Ron, further down the table with Seamus and the Creevey brothers, glanced over as Malfoy stalked up to Harry, then pointedly turned his back on the confrontation.

"Well, seems that breeding really does bear true for some families doesn't, boys? Low breeding, that is." Malfoy's sneering voice caused the hackles on Harry's neck to rise and his ears to pin flat to his head.

Tension shot through Harry's frame, muscles tightening for action and a sharp painful sensation lanced through his jaws. Before Harry could respond to Malfoy's taunt, the supportive members of his House closed ranks around their friend.

"Bugger off, Malfoy," said Dean, rising from the table to loom over the three Slytherins.

Neville simply glared while Ginny and Luna's hands seemed to be conspicuously near their wands. Malfoy kept a wary eye on Ginny, obviously remembering their last encounter and hexing she had given him.

"Ignore him, Harry. He's just jealous because we already know what animal form he would take." Hermione said as she stared the blond, narrow-faced Slytherin down coldly. Malfoy’s sneer became pronounced, but before he could speak, Hermione transfigured the empty platter in front of her into a ferret.

The surrounding Gryffindors all snickered as Malfoy flushed an angry red. His face contorted into a snarl as Hermione's transfigured platter-ferret began to bounce in front of her.

Crabbe flexed his hulking arms threateningly, but against the massed Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw, opted to do nothing else stupid. Malfoy started to try for another insult, but spied Professor McGonagall approaching and so settled for a deadly glare before slinking back off to the Slytherin tables. Hermione quickly switched the ferret back into a plate before the Head of Gryffindor House reached their group.

"Mr. Potter, a word if you please." McGonagall motioned for Harry to follow her. The knot of students scattered quickly. Hermione murmured that she would meet Harry at Charms class.

As Harry followed the Transfiguration professor, he saw Hermione approaching Ron from the corner of his eye.

McGonagall lead Harry all the way back to her office and bade him to take a seat in front of the desk. Gingerly, Harry sat, careful to arrange his tail to wrap comfortably around and down from the seat.

His claws kept catching on his robes at the most inopportune moments, such as now while his Head of House was watching. Frustrated, Harry jerked his front claws free with much more force than he intended and ripped his robes badly.

Peering through his lashes to gauge his professor's demeanor, Harry was surprised to see a small wry smile and soft look at his predicament, but she caught him looking and reverted back to her stern facade. A quick wave and a muttered "Reparo" fixed his robes and then Harry quickly turned his attention to Professor McGonagall.

"I'm very pleased that you have the talent for the Animagus change, though given your lineage, I should have expected a rather precocious demonstration of talent might occur.”

Her voice was less sharp as she continued. “So few individuals choose to explore the possibility of animal forms, much less have the innate talent to achieve the metamorphosis."

McGonagall peered over the top of her square rimmed glasses as Harry tried not to look uncomfortable with her scrutiny. She added, "Though, given what I now know about your father and his school companions, I suppose I shouldn't be that surprised."

Her earlier statement garnered Harry's attention, "Do you mean, Professor, that you didn't expect anyone in the class to be an Animagus?"

"It takes a great deal of magical talent and focus to be able to even visualize one's internal core enough to discover the animal within; and even for those who can, many flee from the visualization, unable to reconcile themselves to what they find there. Those who are unable to accept what they see usually reject their inner animal so completely, the magic twists in upon itself to prevent an Animagus change from ever occurring." McGonagall's mouth pursed tightly for a moment and then she continued tartly, "You should already know this if you have kept up with your reading assignments for class."

Harry saw the proverbial thin ice now stretching out before him and quickly nodded. McGonagall appeared somewhat mollified.

"Now, have you experienced any further shifting in your physical form?" She asked.

Harry nodded and then pointed out the changes he had noticed upon waking this morning. The Transfiguration professor looked pleased at the inventory and opened a drawer and extracted a potion from her drawer and handed it to Harry.

Puzzled, Harry took the potion and questioned, "But, Professor, I thought pain potions couldn't be used during the Animagus transformation?"

"This is not a pain potion, Mr. Potter. It is a very mild sleeping potion. Your physical discomfort cannot be alleviated without risk, but it should not rob you of sleep either." She rose briskly and shooed Harry from the office to Charms class with instructions to expect a tutoring session tomorrow evening in his chambers off of Gryffindor Tower.

Her final comment rang in Harry's ears as he climbed the stairs to Professor Flitwick's classroom.

"Do not do anything deliberately to progress the change until I will be able to observe and guide you, Mr. Potter. To do otherwise would be extremely unwise. Do I make myself clear?"

_____________________________________________________________________

Charms class was a bit of a struggle for Harry as holding a wand in his paw-hands for lengthy periods caused great discomfort. Also the changes in his voice box and jaw alignment caused some of the incantations to come out skewed or slurred.

Rather than scoring Harry down, Professor Flitwick actually awarded points for the spells Harry completed successfully. Since Harry rarely received points from the diminutive Head of Ravenclaw, some grumbling about favoritism of "Dumbledore's pet" came from some in the class.

Professor Flitwick heard the insult come from one of his own Ravenclaws and instructed the offender to the front of the class. Morag McDougal looked very nervous when her Head of House told her that he would be charming her throat and jaw to approximate the changes in Harry's to demonstrate the difficulty that the Gryffindor was overcoming.

Morag struggled mightily for several minutes before becoming completely frustrated and simply giving up. She had been unable to make any of the class spells function, which was a first for her. Professor Flitwick removed the charms and addressed the class once Morag returned to her desk.

"Overcoming an obstacle such as Mr. Potter’s is no simple feat. We will continue in next class on casting simple charms with the impediments that Miss McDougal had cast upon her." The rest of the class groaned in dismay at the tiny Professor's pronouncement.

The class was dismissed then for luncheon. Most of the students left quickly, still shooting covert glances at Harry and muttering amongst themselves. Harry lingered behind to thank the Professor.

"Not at all, Mr. Potter." The Head of Ravenclaw said serenely. "Most people go through life with the blinders that fate and circumstances have given them. Only a few ever truly appreciate the difficulties others might encounter until they themselves have to suffer them."

Harry realized that the Professor's comment was more personal than he had thought. Given Flitwick's skill and talents, Harry had not ever stopped to consider the problems that the small statured wizard would have encountered.

"I'm sorry that I never appreciated your own difficulties, Professor, and that I had to learn this way to recognize them."

The Head of Ravenclaw House laughed softly with a bright and open smile. "At least you see them, though I should consider it a great compliment that you looked past them and only saw my skill and knowledge instead."

Harry was a bit confused by that statement. How had Professor Flitwick known that Harry had only focused on Flitwick's acumen? Hermione, who had come back looking for Harry, rescued him from the befuddlement caused by Flitwick's final statement.

She hurried Harry to the meal in the Great Hall, stating that they could make it back to Gryffindor Tower after lunch to change books before going to Potions if they dined early.

Lunch was very similar to breakfast for Harry. The same group of supportive Gryffindors closed ranks around him and buffered him from the others in the House. Malfoy and his brutish minions stayed at the Slytherin table, although periodic bursts of malicious laughter indicated Malfoy was certainly wasting not a moment of Harry's misfortune to mock his rival.

Midway through the meal, Harry was reaching over to the platter to snatch a particularly juicy bit of roast beef but was thwarted when Hermione speared it onto her own plate. He quickly looked round at the other platters and spotted another slice on a platter between Seamus and Dean.

As Harry attempted to grab the meat, Seamus moved toward it as well. A sudden loud snarling scared Seamus into jumping back from the plate and Harry secured the prize. Powerful impulses were now sweeping through Harry, almost overwhelming in their intensity.

How dare this one challenge me! How dare he trespass on my territory! Harry's thoughts were becoming drowned out by that angry growl in his mind. The same sharp stinging sensation in his jaws that had occurred during the morning's confrontation with Malfoy added a tinge of red to the darkness sweeping over his consciousness. Muscles began to tense and breathing constricted despite Harry's best efforts to regain control.

A soft hand touched the side of Harry's face and broke the grip of the dark emotions. His whiskers twitched at the pleasant brushing and suddenly, Harry was back in control. He gasped, dizzy from the changes, and turned to stare into Hermione's concerned gaze.

"W-w-what happened?" he asked, dazedly

"You were growling at Seamus, Harry. It was frightening me." Hermione replied.

Harry looked back toward Seamus, who sat motionless, his wide eyes still reflecting abject terror. Am I losing the battle against the spirit-jaguar? Harry wondered frantically.

"I'm sorry, Seamus, I didn't realize-" He could not finish the apology because Seamus shot to his feet and stormed up to the Head table to angrily address Professor McGonagall.

Harry looked down, shame eating at his heart. Why did I do that?

Seamus had been cool to him up until now, but he hadn't been actively hostile like Ron. As he glanced back up and toward the table, Harry met Ron's gloating smirk for a long moment.

Pain lanced through Harry again, but now in his heart. Ron's animosity was palpable despite the lengthy table span between them and Harry could not see any way to alleviate the situation. His redheaded friend refused to allow him any chance to talk about his problematic Animagus change. Harry looked down at his plate; the coveted slice of meat now was the last thing Harry wanted at the moment.

His shoulders slumped as he sighed heavily. Why can't this just be over? Harry questioned silently, Why does it have to be so difficult? With his eyes on his plate, Harry missed Ron's expression change from self-gratified malice to pain-filled ambivalence. Ron glanced away quickly as Harry looked up to watch McGonagall descend from the Head table.

McGonagall swept down the aisle with Seamus in tow. She quietly asked what had transpired, and Harry held nothing back, describing the feelings and shifts as he remembered them. She seemed taken aback for a moment, and then asked what had provoked the altercation, causing Harry to point at the offending roast beef on his plate.

"Ah, food aggression." said Professor McGonagall as her tense posture relaxed somewhat.

Harry gaped as his teacher patted his shoulder and then turned to look at Hermione when she uttered a soft "Oh."

"This is actually a good sign, Mr. Potter. I was concerned that you had not as of yet encountered some of the most primal drives of your particular form."

"How is this good, Professor? I felt like I wanted to… attack Seamus!" Harry stated.

The Professor nodded. "Yes, I said good, Potter. Now that you've experienced the rise of a primal instinct, you will find it easier to recognize them and in so doing learn to control yourself accordingly."

Seamus' face had been steadily reddening as the conversation progressed until he could not restrain his outrage. "Professor! He wanted to attack me!"

"Yes, Mr. Finnegan, I am fully aware of the situation as you have related it to me. My hearing is quite good and your voice more than loud enough to be heard clearly. You will note, that given your normal teenaged male behavior at mealtimes, you would have been likely growled at whether or not Mr. Potter was human or jaguar." Seamus sputtered at that and looked ready to protest once more, but McGonagall cut him off smartly.

"Your wise response not to challenge Mr. Potter is to be commended as you assisted your housemate greatly with the correct action. 5 points to Gryffindor."

Seamus was caught completely by surprise by the praise, since he had only rarely earned points from his strict Head of House. The bold Gryffindor's actions in class more often cost house points around Professor McGonagall, so he was sufficiently distracted by the point award to wander off down the table to share his tale of good fortune with Lavender and Parvati.

McGonagall returned to her place at the Head table, leaning over to answer quietly when Professor Sprout queried her.

Harry turned back to question Hermione with his eyes as well as voice. "Food aggression?"

Hermione smiled and just nodded.

"Couldn't you have warned me?" Harry asked.

Hermione raised an eyebrow and asked, "Didn't you read Chapter 5 regarding instinctual behaviors and what Animagi need to do regarding them?"

Harry's perplexed expression did not change, and Hermione sighed heavily before quoting. " 'All normal animal forms have similar base instincts and response to stimuli. The developing Animagus must be able to identify these instincts arising from their animal form and then exert the force of their own will and intelligence to subordinate them.' "

"Oh," Harry uttered as he stared down at his plate and replayed the recent events in his mind. Hermione, sensing his discomfort, stroked his shoulders comfortingly.

The touch help settle him and with a lighter heart, Harry turned back to the food on his plate. The conversation drifted to the upcoming Quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. He listened idly, focused more on his meal, when a soft thud at his right side captured his attention.

Crookshanks raised his squashed face to Harry's and gave a short purr. The wizard looked up at his female friend, but she obviously had not heard or felt Crookshanks' arrival.

{Give me some meat...please} A new, unfamiliar voice softly pleaded to Harry.

Shocked, Harry looked around to place the voice, but many students had already headed out of the Great Hall, and the group of Gryffindors was still engrossed in their conversation, though Hermione's eyes looked decidedly glazed.

{Meat, please....so hungry} Harry looked down and with a shock, realized the voice was Crookshanks'.

Harry cut some small bites off the meat and fed them to the ravenous cat, who purred loudly enough to attract Hermione's attention.

{Friend, fang brother...your enemies are stalking you}

Harry asked quietly. "Are these enemies close?" He felt rather than saw Hermione's attention focused intently on him. Crookshanks placed his front paws on his leg to raise his face toward Harry.

{Yes...they do not mind the wind as they move...I will watch them for you, brother}. The large ginger tomcat cat leaped to the floor and disappeared through the double doors. Harry started to finish his meal but the silence of his compatriots made him glance up warily.

Hermione and the others were staring at him so intensely that he was unable to stop the reflexive glance over his shoulder to verify that he, Harry, was the focus of their attention.

"What did I do?" he asked his friends, thoroughly confused.

"You were snarling at Crookshanks." Hermione stated flatly.

"No, I was talking to him. He wanted some food. You heard me, didn't you?" Harry goggled as Hermione shook her head slowly

"You could understand him?" Ginny queried quickly.

Harry nodded dumbly as Hermione brightened and dug quickly into her book bag for their Animagus textbook. She located the heavy tome and pushed her empty plate aside to open and leaf through the pages until she reached an advanced chapter.

"Here, in chapter 4, 'Animagi develop the ability to communicate with animals of similar species to their animal form after a short period into their change.' "

She looked up from the book with a brilliant smile that caused Harry to smile back in response.

"You're still progressing forward, Harry! Isn't that wonderful?"

Harry nodded and then looked to the large clock on the wall above the double doors and felt his heart drop into feet. It was time for Potions class.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I apologize for the delay, but as sometimes happens, this chapter changed as I wrote it and became something I hadn't even intended. This is the longest chapter to date. As such, please review and tell me what you think. A big “thank you” to Mike (aka Full Pensieve) who assisted me with Snape's characterization.

More Than Human

Chapter Six - Potions & Prats

After a brief detour to Gryffindor Tower to exchange books, Harry and Hermione reached the dark stone stairway leading to the dungeons. Because Harry had lagged while trying to convince Hermione to let him skive off, they were well behind their classmates. They could hear voices echoing from the classroom below, but no one else was in sight.

A soft mew from the shadows near the top of the staircase alerted Harry to Crookshanks' presence.

{Beware, fang brother.}

Hermione started to descend the stairs as Crookshanks' warning came, and for the first time, Harry paused, and deliberately used his newly-acquired feline senses. After a few experimental sniffs with a slight glance around, Harry located the presence of two people lurking just beyond sight, but not beyond the dark-haired Gryffindor's sense of smell. Nor were they beyond his hearing, as he was able to locate the stalkers Crookshanks' had warned of fairly easily by their heightened breathing as well. They were hidden no more than a few meters away.

Harry kept one ear cocked backward but maintained watch on Hermione as she continued down to the Potions classroom, oblivious to their peril. Harry heard scuttling behind him as he passed out of the attackers' line of sight. The hunters were on the move.

With augmented strength and speed, Harry caught Hermione in two quick bounds down the steps. He clapped a hand over her mouth from behind to stifle her surprised cry as he literally carried her into the dark space below the stairs.

Pressing her back into the corner against the steps, Harry put his face close to Hermione's in the semi-darkness and pressed a finger to his lips as his other hand remained across her mouth. Her eyes were wide in shock and confusion, but she didn't attempt to struggle. After a moment's hesitation, Hermione nodded her understanding and Harry withdrew his hand.

Harry's eyes dilated wide and his ears moved forward on his skull to cup the sounds of the two hooded, robed figures that were moving quickly down the stairs.

He moved slowly through the shadows, instinctively using the advantageous location to stalk. With his altered feet, his footfalls were silent. The ambushers were halfway down the stairs when they realized that their quarry were now out of sight. They abandoned any pretense at stealth, and dashed to the bottom of the steps.

Crookshanks' aggressive yowl came a moment before Harry sprang at the nearest assailant, who let out a rather girlish scream before falling backward onto the stair in a scramble to avoid Harry's charge.

Harry had had no intention of touching his target, as the scent emanating from the figures had warned him off of touching him. The smell was odd, musty green with a salty, sour tang, and it tickled his nostrils unpleasantly.

The second person was dealing with an irate Crookshanks, who took great exception to an attack upon his Mistress. The ginger tomcat had pounced upon and was clawing and scratching the second figure's left leg without mercy.

“Get this thing off me!” The shrill tones of Pansy Parkinson were unmistakable as she strove to free herself from the half-Kneazle's attack. Harry turned from that spectacle, secure in the knowledge that Crookshanks had things well in hand.

Harry's opponent finally managed to push back his tangled hood to reveal the thin, pale features of Theodore Nott. As Harry focused on him, Nott's face contorted in malicious anger and he threw the small glass orb he had extracted from his robes directly at Harry's head.

Harry's Seeker reflexes helped him to snatch the orb from mid-flight, and the heavy pads on his morphing hands proved useful as they allowed him to catch the fragile object without harm and then redirect it back at the Slytherins.

“Crookshanks, get out of there!” Harry snarled. The ginger tom dropped to the step and scrambled down the stairs before the orb smashed on the stone tread, releasing a cloud of dust to surround the two ambushers.

Pansy wailed as the dust touched her and then beat a hasty retreat back up the steps. Nott, lying prostrate on the stairs was not as fortunate and received a hefty dose of whatever compound had been contained in the orb.

Harry felt his ears flick back as he heard Hermione's light steps approaching. He stepped sideways to keep himself between Nott and his best friend, watching silently as the skin on Nott's face discolored and crusted over. The would-be ambusher whimpered and dragged himself back up the steps and out of sight as the two Gryffindors watched.

“What was that?” Harry wondered.

“Wartcap Powder.” Hermione replied.

Harry turned to her and saw the intent look she was fixing on him. Crookshanks purred contentedly from his mistress' arms as Hermione scratched his head; very pleased with the attention he was receiving.

“Oh, right,” He responded absently, feeling more than a little self-conscious as Hermione continued to stare. Whatever was the matter with her? “Er…Sorry about grabbing you like that, Hermione. I…”

Whatever else Harry might have said was interrupted by the arrival of Snape, who swept down the steps from the Main Hall and said witheringly, “The class is held inside the room, Mr. Potter. While I realize Mr. Potter may need to be reminded of that fact on a routine basis, Miss Granger, do you also need such a remedial instruction?”

Hermione dropped her familiar, who took the opportunity to run back up the stairs. Harry watched longingly as the cat disappeared from sight. Lucky bugger…

He strode past the two students, who hurried after to enter the classroom after their teacher. Harry felt his stomach sinking with anxiety, unable to shake the feeling that the Potions class was destined to be horrible.

**************************************************************************

Harry stormed back into his special quarters later that same day and quickly sealed the door behind him with an angry shout and wave of his wand.

“Colloportus!”

He began to pace, his tail lashing back and forth agitatedly, along the far wall. He tossed his books onto the bed by the second pass, and his outer robes joined them on the third. Fury pounded in his temples, as he recalled the previous episode of torturous agony Snape had inflicted on him and the rest of the Potions class.

“I really should have known it would be bad when Snape was so…mild outside class.” Harry thought in self-disgust.

He heard Hermione's voice, muffled by the tapestry speak the password for the door. As Harry continued to pace, he heard Hermione's not-so-polite epithet when she realized he had sealed the door against her and she was unable to cast a powerful enough counter spell to negate the lock.

“Harry! Open the door! Harry… please!” Hermione's voice rang with a clear note of worry as she knocked loudly, but Harry for once was unmoved by her request.

He went out into the enclosed courtyard to escape the increasingly louder pleas of his best friend. The events of the class and its aftermath still circled through Harry's mind; twin to the anxious pacing that his body seemed to demand in response to his thoughts.

The sun was setting slowly in the western skies as Harry tried to come to terms with his own deep-felt fear and uncertainty. Fear and uncertainty that stemmed from the events just past…

Potions class had not been the unmitigated disaster that Harry had anticipated at first, though starting out with Snape's rather abrupt change in the class curricula to the Potion of Defense had been the first clue that something was afoot.

Hermione had questioned that change, for which Snape docked her two house points for daring to question his prerogatives as teacher.

The Potion of Defense itself was a great topic to explore on it own merits, given the current unrest in the Wizarding World with Voldemort's return but it required some exceptional components to complete the brew.

A single thin potting table had stretched across the front of the room to the right of the chalkboard. Snape gave a single wave of his wand and the instructions for the potion had appeared.

The Potions Master had rapped out the instructions and Harry considered a great stroke of luck to get paired up with Hermione. Neville and Dean were stationed to their left at the same bench. Ron had quickly partnered Seamus and both had secured a location as far from Harry as possible and not be with the Slytherins. Hermione and Dean had set up the cauldrons while Harry and Neville went to collect the ingredients.

As all the students rushed about and concentrated on their assignment, Harry had felt an uneasy prickle along his nerves, but after a quick glance about, he could not attribute it to anything out of the ordinary. He had collected all but the final ingredient for the potion and returned to Hermione where she had proceeded to add and stir the mixture to reach the proper consistency and temperature for the final ingredient.

Snape had stationed himself at his desk and other than a few barks at the hapless students closest to him; the Slytherin had not prowled the aisles or hovered menacingly over the students' shoulders. Looking back now, Harry realized that should have been another clue…

“Harry, the potion's ready for the…” Hermione had paged back in her notes and then continued, “Olens mustellidae mephitis extract. The instructions say you have to harvest it fresh from the plant.”

Harry had snatched up an empty vial and headed up to the plant bench to select a plant near the end of the table. With dense, long oval leaves that rose high and made a tight ring around the core of the plant, Harry had been unable to see exactly from where the extract should come. Glancing back to Hermione, who had been watching him intently as she stirred the cauldron; he caught her mouthed instruction, “The flowers.”

The flowers? Harry had turned back to the plant and was about to poke around the tightly closed leaves, when his hand was seized and pulled away forcefully. Turning to see who had grabbed him, Harry had been shocked to find Neville gripping his hand and shaking his head forcefully.

“No, Harry! These are Greater North American Skunkweed plants. If you touch them like that, you'll get sprayed for sure.”

Harry's confusion must have been clear to Neville, who had proceeded to show Harry how to duplicate the distinctive tapping of the Iron-nose beetle, the only insect that could pollinate the plant safely.

Harry had carefully emulated his fellow Gryffindor and was shocked when the central green leaves parted sharply and to reveal the large, furry looking black and white-striped flowers hidden in the center. The strange blooms had swayed back and forth with an almost menacing movement, and Harry had felt a powerful, instinctive aversion to even approaching them at all.

In a show of skill that was extremely unusual for Neville in Potions, soon both he and Harry had secured the small, resin coated balls from the base of the flowers and had headed back to their respective bench.

“Thanks, Neville. The potion instructions didn't tell us how to get that extract, did they?” Harry had asked, concerned he had missed a crucial direction in the procedure.

Neville frowned in bemusement, “You know, I don't think they did, Harry. I only knew because of a special project I did for Professor Sprout last term for extra credit in Herbology.” He had brightened at that and Harry smiled back. Hermione had asked what had kept him and had been worried that the potion might not turn out right because of his delay.

She had added the little resin balls and the potion seethed for a moment, then settled and turned a lovely mint green shade. Harry had assisted her in bottling their sample for grading, and then walked to front of the class to hand Snape the vial, which the professor accepted with a malevolent glance, but had refrained from saying anything. Now in hindsight, yet another clue…

Harry had hurried back to the table, noticing some of the other students were now approaching the plants to get their extracts. Dean and Neville had passed the word through to the other Gryffindors how to get the extract correctly, but the Slytherins in the class had either not overheard or watched carefully enough when Harry and Neville had gotten their samples.

Millicent had made the error of poking her plant, which had responded viciously with a fine, atomized spray. The wave of laughter at her mistake did not last more than a moment once the smell permeated the room, driving most of the class to whip out their wands and cast the Bubble-head Charm to stave off the god-awful stench. Harry had found much to his consternation that the charm was one that he could not effectively enunciate, as he had gasped desperately against the smell that was, to him, blinding in its intensity.

Hermione, after casting her own charm, had turned to cast the charm for Harry, who by this point was bent over wheezing and gasping, eyes watering profusely.

“No casting of magic in my class, Miss Granger!” Snape's harsh voice had stopped the girl in mid-cast.

“But, professor, the smell is hurting Harry!” Hermione's voice had reflected shocked outrage at Snape's command.

“5 points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for your cheek in questioning my instructions.” Snape had rapped out. Hermione had turned back to Harry, who had been blinking furiously to clear his eyes to focus on her and the Potions Master. Harry had seen in her eyes that she had intended to rebel against Snape's edict. Harry had shaken his head to stop her from tempting Snape's wrath and losing Gryffindor any more House points.

Harry had used his anger at Snape's obvious perfidy in setting up this particular lesson for the off-chance to humiliate him to force his frame upright and to control his breathing as much as possible. His female friend had looked stricken at being unable to help him, and Harry had tried to reassure her with a small smile.

During the last quarter hour of the class, Harry had learned that his new form did not allow for him to become accustomed to the smell, and as time passed, it seemed to intensify his sensitivity to the point of actual pain.

As a last act of rubbing salt into Harry's wounds, Snape had called both he and Hermione to verify that the potion vial was correctly marked so that Harry had been treated to an additional 5 minutes of the odiferous agony.

The entire class time was overshadowed by those final minutes in his memory. Harry had successfully passed an advanced Potion class with an excellent mark, but he could not take any joy from it; yet another blow delivered by Snape.

Rage boiled over then and Harry literally saw red. Insufferable bastard! His animal instincts drove him around in circles in the courtyard, his humanity fading back as the beast took control and expressed its sympathy with his dark emotions.

After some time passed, Harry pulled himself out of the submergence with effort. The basic instincts were soothing in their simplicity; promising him a seductive form of peace that Harry had never truly experienced before in his life. The ease that he felt with the dark and dim impulses running through him was what finally shocked Harry back into control.

Blinking in sudden awareness, he cringed back as the battered trunk of the ash tree in front of him came into focus. His claws had savaged the trunk down to the heartwood, and his rage-induced strength had cracked it like a toothpick. The last leaves of fall clung to the crown of the tree which now swept the still-green grass.

Glancing around at the rest of the courtyard, Harry let out a sob. A path of destruction marked almost every point in the enclosed garden. A destruction that Harry had wrought while lost in his anger and now-increasingly apparent animal nature.

Harry slumped down against the outer courtyard wall with his hands held his face as if to contain his horror. Neither Voldemort, nor Snape, or anyone else in Harry's life was responsible for this situation. He, and only he, was responsible.

What if Hermione had gotten in here? Harry thought with a wave of self-loathing and nausea. What would have happened to her? I could have…killed her… Harry rolled to the left and vomited violently. Feral…

He shivered in reaction, gasping for breath as his imagination drew garish, macabre images of what could have happened during his loss of control. As Harry examined the shattered pieces of his self-conceit, one thought came crashing into his consciousness.

It must never happen again…

Harry stood back up shakily and heard Hermione's knocking on the chamber door stop. He slowly walked back into the chamber, his thoughts returning to the events after Potions class that had so upset him…

Ron had been waiting just beyond the door to the potions classroom; his cheeks flushed red as his ears, sure indicators that his temper was up. Harry, his patience frayed from the horrid Potions class just past, simply scowled darkly at his recalcitrant friend and pushed past him. Hermione, just behind Harry, was not able to duck past Ron who had reached out to grab her arm and hold her back.

“”Leave off, Ron!” she spat angrily, pulling her arm free brusquely.

“Why won't you listen to me for once, Hermione?” Ron shot back.

Harry turned back at that and raised a questioning eyebrow, Ron seemed almost, well, frankly, driven to convince Hermione of her danger in being around Harry. It was a strange situation, that Ron would be so adamant about Harry being so dangerous when Ron was wizard born and should be used to the idea of Animagi.

Hermione seemed to come to a similar thought and asked angrily, “What is the real problem, Ron?”

Caught off guard, Ron stuttered for a moment before his expression hardened and he muttered, “Why won't you trust me on this?”

Hermione's eyebrows rose sharply and she opened to mouth to respond, but before she could Harry had moved in front her to confront Ron.

“What is the problem, Ron? Why won't you talk to me?” Harry demanded.

Ron backed away a step and seemed anxious to avoid Harry's eyes. As the silence stretched longer, Harry growled in exasperation then shouted. “You bloody prat! Just tell us!”

Malfoy's snide voice chipped in. “What? Are you jealous again, Weasel?

Ron sent a seething glance at Draco, but remained silent. Harry paid the Slytherin no attention at all, focusing instead on his red-headed friend's body language and facial expression. Something was off, but what that something was…

“Or perhaps Weasel can't stand the fact that your filthy mudblood prefers to shag a twisted half-creature like you rather than his poor, but pureblooded arse, Scarhead.” Malfoy's voice was sharp with sarcastic amusement.

The two Gryffindors had been so focused on their own confrontation that the crude remark took a moment to sink in, but the sharp crack of Hermione's hand across Malfoy's face jarred them into turning around to watch Draco retaliate by backhanding their female friend across her cheek and knocking her to the floor.

Outrage surged through Harry, adrenaline lending speed and power to his movements as he sprung toward Malfoy. He could feel Ron moving in unison behind him, their dispute overshadowed by Malfoy's unpardonable action towards Hermione.

Crabbe intercepted Ron and Harry heard the scuffle as the two pushed and shoved dimly, his heartbeat was growing faster and louder in his ears, drowning out extraneous noises. His vision narrowed to only his prey, Malfoy.

A hulking form loomed into his view, blocking his way to Malfoy and sending Harry's rage higher. Such a direct challenge was not to be tolerated! He grabbed the upper arms of the individual and simply swung him out of his way before continuing towards his prey. The resulting crunch of flesh and bone against the wall and the choked off exclamation of pain never registered in his consciousness as Harry continued to toward his foul mouthed blond target.

For Malfoy's part, he seemed paralyzed at Harry's charge, his eyes wide and mouth agape. He recognized that he should do something about his imminent danger just a few moments too late. Harry caught the back of Malfoy's robes as the Slytherin turned to retreat and used his forward momentum to swing both of them around and place Malfoy up against the corridor wall with one broad paw-hand completely encompassing Malfoy's throat to pin him.

Malfoy squirmed against the hold, but Harry's grip was firm. The dark Gryffindor leaned into his enemy's face and bared his fangs as he snarled ferociously. The loud scraping of his claws against the stone wall resonated in the cold hallway.

Harry heard the desperate tones in Hermione's voice but her words were drowned out in the cacophony of the other students' voices. Malfoy's mouth opened and closed but made no sound. The strident tones of Snape's voice cut through the haze in Harry's brain and sent a chill down his spine. “I could have….I wanted to…kill Malfoy,” he thought, stricken.

A sudden sharp smell of urine caused Harry to flinch back and then glance down to where a dark patch on Malfoy's robes betrayed what had just occurred. Looking up into Malfoy's eyes, Harry was shaken to see a real despair and anguish behind the fear.

Snape's scalding tones drew closer, as he ploughed through a knot of by-standing students. “Twenty-five points from Gryffindor, Weasley. You will stop plunging Mr. Crabbe's head against the wall at once!”

Harry drew back from Malfoy, still careful to keep his opponent on the edge of his vision. Snape's approaching footsteps were like chimes of doom. For his part, Malfoy appeared as though he was hearing identical chimes.

Snape stopped before Goyle's crumpled form. “What has happened here? Someone will explain now,” he seethed. He surveyed the crowd standing in the hallway imperiously, and his eyes locked in on Harry and Malfoy.

“Potter… of course,” sneered Snape. His pleasure at the prospect of having caught Harry out of bounds oozed from his voice palpably as he strode forward to confront the Gryffindor.

He stopped before Malfoy, took note of his charge's robes, and glowered. “Mr. Malfoy, surely there are more pressing matters that require your attention?” he suggested casually. Malfoy scrambled away without meeting Snape's eyes. The band of spectating Slytherins began to yelp over one another, dispensing the usual accusations, but their Head of House cut them off sharply.

“Baddock, you will move Mr. Goyle to the Hospital Wing,” Snape ordered, “or shall I send for a second-year to assist you?” The Slytherins surrounded the unconscious Goyle, levitated their housemate and walked his floating body down the corridor.

Snape glared at the knot of Gryffindors who had remained in defense of their housemates, and none dared to challenge the Professor to remain. Harry tried to slink away as well, but Snape drifted into his path.

“I think not, Potter,” Snape said, as he coolly regarded Harry in the manner of a pet that has outlived its usefulness. Ron hesitated for a moment, but withered in the face of a dark glare from Snape and followed the other Gryffindors away. Only Hermione remained.

Snape drew himself up and looked coldly down his nose at Hermione. “Your presence is neither required nor desired, Miss Granger.” When she stood firm, he ordered, “Return to your common room - at once!”

Hermione looked uncertain for a moment, then her eyes sharpened and her chin came up in a familiar manner Harry instantly recognized. Stepping a silent pace back to be unseen by the Potions master, Harry frowned darkly at her and shook his head.

Reluctantly, she moved slowly down the corridor, lagging far behind Ron and the others. She looked back at Harry several times, incurring a sharp look from Snape each time, before she rounded the corner.

Harry was thankful for the dark fur that covered his face for at least Snape would not be able to see how much his face blanched, as the Potions master turned back and smirked at his young nemesis.

Snape must have considered today to be a banner day, since he was able to cap off the day with a week's detention for Harry and the loss of 50 House points for Gryffindor. Insufferable, greasy git…

Harry slumped onto the rug in front of the fireplace and started a fire. The movement of the flames was hypnotic and he felt his eyes closing as his body relaxed in answer to the heat and recent exertion.

****************************************************************************

The sound of raised voices from outside in the Gryffindor common room woke Harry some time later. He raised his head and peered around blearily and noticed that the room had become shadowed as the fire had burnt down to a few embers.

“I'm telling you he's dangerous! Why won't believe me, Hermione?” Ron shouted stridently.

“Because it's Harry, Ronald. Remember, your best friend?! He's certainly faced worse and survived before. Why are you being so negative about this?” Hermione's voice was calmer, but no less forceful.

“Enough, Ron! Hermione's right, this is Harry we're talking about here. How can you be so sure that he's going to go feral?” Ginny's voice was concerned.

“Because, it's happened before! Don't you two understand?” Ron answered, his tone reflecting his frustration. Harry rose and went to the door to listen, but all that came to him was the sound of Ron storming upstairs.

He leaned his forehead against the wood door and sighed heavily. The two girls were silent for a moment, and then he heard Hermione said to Ginny, “You know what is happening with Ron, I can tell from your face, Ginny.”

Ginny hesitated briefly, “I just got a letter back from George. I asked if he knew why Ron would be so hysterical about Harry's condition.”

“And?” Hermione queried.

“George told me about our Uncle Leonard, who died when I was six. He was Dad's youngest brother.” Ginny said softly.

Harry was transfixed by the pain in Ginny's voice. What did Ron's uncle have to do with him?

Hermione urged her to continue. As Harry eavesdropped shamelessly, he heard the girls settle on the floor, most likely in front of the hearth before Ginny took a deep breath before she went on, “Evidently, Ron really adored Uncle Leo, and would often go over to see him since he lived only a short distance from the Burrow. Uncle Leo was a great fan of Quidditch and chess, and Ron's interests were always similar to his.”

The sound of people coming through the Portrait Hole interrupted Ginny as the other students greeted Hermione and Ginny. The newcomers did not linger long in the Common Room, but the two girls waited until they were alone once more before returning to their discussion.

“Go on, please, Ginny.” Hermione encouraged.

“George says that uncle Leo decided to become an Animagus, and attempted the change on his own without letting Dad or Uncle Charles know what he intended.” The younger girl continued sadly, “Ron went to visit him and found Uncle Leo. The change had gone wrong. Badly.”

Hermione gasped in horror as Ginny sobbed, “He attacked and chased Ron, who ran back home. Uncle Leo caught him just before he reached the safety of the house. Dad heard Ron's screams and fought Uncle Leo off of him, but Ron was clawed up something awful.”

“Oh my god, Ginny! Poor Ron…but, what happened to your uncle?” Hermione's voice shook a bit.

“George said Dad told him that Leo came back to himself after Dad stopped him from killing Ron and put him into the Spell Damage Ward at St Mungo's. Uncle Leo left a letter for Dad and Uncles Charles, telling them that he couldn't live with what had almost happened to Ron. Somehow, Leo managed to get a wand; Dad didn't know from where, and he killed himself. Ron had wandered down after they healed the worst of his wounds to see Uncle Leo and was the one who found him dead.”

Harry was as shocked as Hermione had sounded earlier. They had never suspected that Ron had harbored such a painful experience in his past. But now, Harry realized from where those faint scars on Ron's legs had come.

Harry wandered back to his own hearth and sat down. The girls were still talking, but Harry paid no attention as he stared into the dim hearth.

Maybe Ron was right, maybe Harry was destined to go feral, but Harry couldn't bring himself to truly believe that his destiny was set in stone just yet.

But everyone around him would be in danger until Harry succeeded in the change. The condition of the courtyard indicated that if nothing else.

Making his decision, Harry strode to his desk and sat down to write.

Author Note: Please Review!

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the next-to-last chapter. Only one more remains. I do apologize to all the anxious readers, but writing is a very creative process from me, but it has to yield to the other demands on my time and energies. A big “thank you” to Mike (aka Full Pensieve) and Molly Morrison who both helped me with a fantastic beta read.

More Than Human

Chapter Seven - Flight & Fight

The sun was setting brilliantly in the west as Harry watched from his perch in an ancient oak tree at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Soon, dusk would cover the woods and the grounds of Hogwarts. A flutter of wings above him in the tree called Harry's attention from the vista. Hedwig cocked her head curiously at her master, her amber eyes bright.

Harry let out a heavy sigh and shook his head from side to side. The snowy owl's head bobbed and she soared off toward the owlery. He watched her flight until she passed from his sharp sight.

Hunger gnawed at him, but Harry paid no mind. Starvation was a familiar companion from his earliest recollection. The sounds of the awakening forest rose around him as he lay stretched out across the broad tree limb.

The scents of nightfall came to him; instincts stirred, but subsided quickly. Harry's will was becoming reflexive and ruthless in dealing with his other side. On his first morning in the woods, Harry had awoken to find the change had advanced a great deal farther and the skeletal changes made it impossibly to speak or walk upright and longer. Unfortunately, that first morning was the only day marked with any noticeable advancement. The balance of the rest of the days had shown no measurable advancement.

Three days had passed since his destruction of the courtyard in Hogwarts and the food he had cadged from Dobby had finally run out. Soon, Harry would need to hunt if he could not complete the change. His animagus textbook had yielded little assistance and Harry's desperation was growing. Longer-than-normal limbs and digits were the last vestige of his human form; the rest of him was a correct jaguar, as far as Harry could discern.

It took him great care to avoid the search parties from the school. Hagrid had proven to be a formidable tracker; only his ability to keep under cover had protected him during a couple of close calls.

Students were being carefully shepherded now, and must have been warned that Harry might be present and dangerous. He watched, amused, as several teachers bustled a group of them back into the safety of the castle before full twilight set in.

Stretching luxuriously, he flexed his now-powerful front paws and dragged his claws across the rough bark, tearing through to the wood underneath and pleasurably sharpening his claws. Time to move, he thought wryly; Hagrid will soon be about on his nightly prowl.

Descending fluidly from the broad limb of the oak, Harry felt a thrill shiver along his spine. His jaguar form enjoyed movement as much as resting and it resonated deeply with Harry's human psyche. With a final jump, he reached the ground and looked out over the expansive lawns that stretched from the Forest's eaves to the walls of the castle.

A silhouetted figure stood on the wall above the main gate but from this distance Harry could not make out much more than the general shape. Two more figures joined the first, but the activity at Hagrid's hut pulled his attention from the school and back to his own situation.

He turned away from the castle and padded off into the depths of the woods.

# ######## #

Harry made a quick check on the hidden cache that held his Invisibility cloak, textbook and clothing, before heading off into the wood to leave a false trail for Hagrid. He backtracked across a couple of streams; after those twists Harry began to cover his trail and moved back toward Hogwarts.

The false trail would keep Hagrid occupied long enough for Harry to find another secret perch near the edge of the wood, one safely outside the territory of the giant spiders or other predators. The jaguar's keen sense of smell had been vital on his initial foray into the Forest. It let him learn the extent of the various ranges of the other predatory creatures and to be able avoid conflict with them.

A large copper beech tree towered just inside the edge of the Forest about midway between Hagrid's hut and the Whomping Willow Tree; it gave Harry a perfect vantage over the Lake and the Castle. He scaled the trunk in three leaps and settled down on a heavy limb midway between the ground and the crown of the tree. The distinctive foliage that still clung stubbornly to the branches was thick enough to provide cover for him but not obstruct his view of the Castle and in particular, Gryffindor Tower.

It was ironic that after spending most of his life parentless and alone that Harry would now so long for the company of his friends and schoolmates, but he did. That human need defined the divide clearly between Harry-the-wizard and Harry-the-jaguar.

The drive to be around people was fast becoming a compulsion. He had not been out of control since the episode in the courtyard, and drifted back to stay in close vicinity to the Castle each night. Harry missed his friends terribly and wondered if he had been too rash in his decision to leave. He grew more and more confident in his ability to control the big cat within as each day passed.

The waxing moon rose from above the horizon and reflected brilliantly from the near-mirror surface of the Dark Lake. Harry had almost dozed off again when rustling footsteps sounded nearby. Startled, he focused on the quarry quickly and watched a hooded, cloaked figure move quickly from the direction of the Castle. The stranger was attempting to move stealthily, but Harry's new perceptions from his change made him snort softly in disdain.

He watched as the figure reached the edge of the wood and disappeared within. The sound of the person's progress was easily heard and so he kept an ear cocked in that direction as his eyes began to drift shut once more. Likely another member of Hagrid's search party, he thought, but rather late…

After a few moments, the sounds of the person slowed and then stopped. What is going on? He wondered as his eyes opened wide and interest built in his mind.

Hagrid's party was still deep in the Forest, following Harry's false trails. This new person had stopped only a short distance inside the Forest and was making no effort to find and join the search party. Curiosity spiked high and he descended to investigate.

Once he reached the other's tracks, a very familiar trail of scent mixed with the evening dew and teased his nose. What the devil is…?

Harry bounded along the trail double-time in pursuit, unconcerned that he might be leaving clear tracks in the rush to find his quarry. He moved fluidly and with strength, and closed the distance between them rapidly.

Faint light shone from between the dark boles of the trees and wispy underbrush of the small glade ahead. The scent was stronger now, less muddied by time and distance.

Instinctively, he skirted the edge of the glade to approach from an oblique angle. Creeping forward on silent paws, Harry's dilated eyes took in the object of his chase, seated and still wrapped in a voluminous cloak and hood.

His quarry was bent over an open book that was illuminated by wand light. A stoppered potion vial sat beside the book, glimmering greenish from within. There was a brief reflection from something else in the short grass; he focused and made out what was surely a ritual dagger. What is this about? he wondered, bemused.

Hermione pushed back her hood, her expression intent. Her identity was no surprise to Harry; he had recognized her scent from the first. She let her wand go dark and removed the stopper from the vial. In one swift motion, she raised the dagger from the grass and cut across her palm; Harry heard her softly whisper, “Biformatum aspectus.”

Tipping her cut palm gingerly, she let three drops of blood fall into the glowing potion, which churned violently and shifted in colour. The potion calmed into a scintillating dark purple after a few moments.

Harry did not understand what she was doing, but could not shake the impression that it was dangerous. Silently, he crept even further into the shadowy glade as Hermione turned back to her book. His acute hearing caught her tiniest whisper as her finger tracked down the page.

“…can be induced with a personalized Hypnotic potion, but only under the strictest supervision…” Hermione trailed off and worried her lower lip. Harry could smell fear in the moment before her chin firmed. “There's no other way…” she finished.

Harry had heard enough. She was doing something, and it was very likely dangerous. He took one bound forward and slammed down a large paw atop the book. Hermione fell backwards with a terrified shriek.

She lay still and stared at him for a long time, and he stayed perfectly still as well. Then she lunged forward and hugged Harry hard around his neck. “Harry!” she exclaimed happily.

Her bushy hair brushed across his face and he basked in her scent before pulling free. She seemed surprised by his withdrawal. He sauntered forward and deliberately swatted at the book, then turned his eyes full force upon her.

She laughed nervously. “Ah, I guess you want to know what I was doing… Well, there are several very interesting potions that need to be made during different conditions, Harry, and I was, eh, working on a project for Professor Snape, you see...” Harry couldn't speak, but he could still manage a disbelieving look.

Hermione looked abashed, but only for a moment. She settled on offence rather than defence. “Harry James Potter, don't you give me that look! I - we've been worried sick about you! How could you just run off like that?”

Harry recoiled for a moment, but then his eyes narrowed into slits. He wasn't about to let her avoid him. If she wouldn't explain herself, then she was doing something she knew was dangerous. He swiped and swatted at the book to turn it and lowered his head to read the passage.

He barely focused on the page before Hermione snatched the book up, snapped it shut and promptly shoved it beneath her. A low menacing growl rumbled up from his chest.

A flash of fear raced across Hermione's face, and Harry stopped his threat, ashamed, and ducked his head away from his friend.

“I was - going to try - I want to help you, Harry, but we're running out of time…” Hermione's voice broke painfully as she confessed and Harry raised his head to see her swiping at her cheeks roughly as she stared at the ground.

He moved forward and nuzzled the moist side of her face with a low rumble. The salty tang provoked him to lap at her tears, which provoked a giggle. The taste was amazing and Harry continued to lick her face.

“Yuck! Harry!” She giggled and batted at him in mock-disgust. “Leave off! Your tongue's like sandpaper!”

Harry stopped his lapping and rubbed his head against her shoulder, lost in the blissful moment of companionship. But that moment was cut short as he felt Hermione try to reach out and grab the potion vial.

In a flash, Harry leapt over his friend and seized the vial in his mouth and sprang up the nearest tree, leaving Hermione to rail at him impotently until she remembered her wand.

“Accio potion!”

The bottle jerked and almost slipped from his mouth. Harry now wished he had his hands back. Hermione would likely succeed with the second summoning unless he did something drastic to prevent it.

He glanced down and saw Hermione preparing for a second Accio and inspiration struck. Harry whipped his head around toward the trunk and released the bottle to shatter upon the rough bark.

“No!” Hermione cried.

Harry leapt down and padded over to his friend. Her face was pale and blank as she watched the remains of the potion drip down.

“Oh, Harry…what are we going to now?” Hermione slumped down to the grassy floor of the glade.

We won't do anything, Hermione, he thought, I have to do this…alone.

Hermione collected herself quickly. She scrambled for the textbook and began feverishly paging through it, all the while muttering under her breath.

With a sigh, Harry laid down beside her and kept watch while she searched her textbook frantically. The night sounds caused him no alarm and the breeze was pure and sweet.

Glancing over at his friend, Harry found she was still pouring over the text with singular concentration. He wondered if she still even knew he was still there.

Hmph, what a waste of a nice night, he thought, disgusted.

A sudden impish thought flashed into his thoughts, and he shifted his position surreptitiously and proceeded to wage a campaign for Hermione's attention.

The first small swishes of his tail did not attract her attention. After a moment, Harry struck.

Thwump!

The end of Harry's tail came down upon the open book and Hermione jerked back in surprise.

Before Hermione could scold him and remove his tail from the page, he pulled it back and swished it lazily next to his leg. Harry caught her annoyed glance out of the corner of his eye, but kept his nonchalant air.

She went back to her reading and Harry waited patiently for his next chance. Hermione turned several pages in succession and then placed the book back down to use her wand light.

Perfect, he thought gleefully.

THWUMP!

Hermione jerked backward and then glared balefully at him. Harry tried to present as complete an air of innocence as a large predator could manage.

“Harry…stop it,” Hermione said stiffly.

She turned back to the text and started to read once more. Harry laid his head down on his front paws, eyes half-closed and kept her in his peripheral vision. It took longer, but she finally relaxed once more.

THWUMP!

He looked over his shoulder as his female friend growled and clenched her fists.

“That's it!” Hermione sputtered angrily. She caught up the textbook and walked away several paces before sitting down with her back to Harry and returned to her task.

Well, time for Plan B, then, Harry thought. He stood and crept silently across to her, and waited until she had relaxed once more before he placed his nose on her neck just below her ear.

“Harry!” Hermione squealed, blindly swiping to remove his cold wet nose from her skin. She slammed the book shut and turned to face her bothersome friend with a militant gleam in her eyes.

Harry crouched down, tail in the air, before bounding away to the other side of the glade and turning to look back at his friend. Come and play, he thought. There's nothing else either of us can do now except…

Live.

Understanding dawned in her eyes. Hermione put her wand in the textbook for safekeeping, calmly rose to her feet and charged after him.

They played a strange version of tag, trading nudges and taps as they moved about the glade, running and tumbling. Harry could not remember a time he had ever been so simply happy. He tackled a shrieking Hermione to the ground and was about to administer the “wet nose” torture before bounding off again when another voice yelled, “Stupefy!”

Harry felt the spell hit his side and was thrown several feet through the air before hitting the ground. Adrenalin surged through him and everything came into sharp focus as he rolled to his feet with a snarl.

Hermione struggled to her feet as Harry charged forward to protect her. The attacker's hood fell back to reveal Ron's flushed face, just as he was tackled to ground by two other people from behind. Harry stopped in his tracks and cocked his head while watched the scene.

Hermione retrieved her wand and watched the strange melee at Harry's side. Neville and Ginny seemed to be trying to hold Ron down by sheer strength, but were not having much luck. Luna traipsed in from the far side of the glade and tilted her head curiously at the scene.

“Get off, you two!” Ron shouted, trying to hold on to his wand while Ginny fought to take it from him. Neville was straining to hold onto Ron's legs.

Luna shook her head sorrowfully and sighed, before she spoke softly, “Incarcerous”

Ropes sprung from her wand tip and wrapped around the three Gryffindors. Overborne by the imprisoning coils, Ron sputtered epithets while Ginny and Neville stayed silent.

“Ronald, I won't release you until you restore your calm,” Luna sing-songed softly.

“He was killing her!” Ron spat.

“Killing me?” Hermione questioned, hands on her hips. “Really? Do you think I would be laughing if Harry was hurting me?”

Ron sputtered. “He - he was - he might have…”

“Might have what? Done me to death by rubbing his nose on me?” Hermione mocked.

Harry shifted against her leg, distracting her. He could not tell her to go easy on their red-haired friend anymore, but hoped she would see the appeal in his eyes. She seemed to recognize his silent plea and her angry expression softened before she looked back to the bound group.

“Luna, let him and the others loose, please,” Hermione requested. “Neville's starting to turn blue.”

Luna cast a vanishing charm on the ropes and the three carefully extricated themselves from their tangle.

Ron pushed upright with alacrity, while Ginny and Neville both seemed a bit slower and worse for wear. Harry could see Ron's mutinous expression was unchanged.

“Why are you four out here?” Hermione asked.

“To stop you from your hare-brained plan to join in Harry's change!” Ron shot back.

Harry glanced up at Hermione with an eyebrow raised. She had the grace to flush slightly at his pointed look. “You'd have been too late if Harry hadn't already seen to that,” she sighed.

Luna was brushing off the accumulated twigs and detritus off the back of Ginny's robes, while Neville leaned wearily against a nearby tree. Ron kept glancing about at them, the glade, even the sky to avoid looking at him, Harry realized.

Chilly anger lanced through Harry. Why could Ron not see that he, Harry, was still here, inside the jaguar? Unconsciously, Harry began to growl and at the sound; Ron stared wide-eyed at his changed friend.

The cat instincts rose sharply, but Harry caught himself slipping and shook off the aggression. It helped that Hermione's hand had dropped to the dome of his head and was softly stroking.

With a heavy sigh, Harry deliberately paced forward to a point midway between his two friends, sat down on his haunches, and gazed at his oldest friend intently. See me, Ron, he pleaded silently. I'm still here…I'm still Harry!

Ron's face showed his emotions clearly, anger, fear and pain. His eyes were shadowed and dim and Harry could not discern any recognition.

Harry bowed his head and huffed. In that moment, a whiff of musty scent crossed his nose. He crouched and scented the breeze intently.

The wind had shifted while he and Hermione had goofed around; now Harry squalled loudly, startling Neville away from his backrest. He looked wildly from Hermione to Ron, trying to communicate his warning, but from their blank looks, Harry knew they did not understand.

He bounded back to Hermione and began to swat at her ankles while using his shoulder and superior weight to push her forward. Hermione protested loudly and reluctantly began to move toward the others. Ron objected at first, but finally seemed to grasp that Harry's frantic activity had some purpose and turned to scan the woods about them.

Harry herded Hermione to the others and then stalked back into the centre of the glade to search for more signs of the presence he had scented. The others milled about behind him, but he ignored them. Damn, he should have been more alert.

The scent was growing stronger all around them. The cat instincts rose with his fear, but instead of competing for dominance, they slipped within and beneath Harry's very human fear for the first time, supporting and reinforcing.

I must get them out of this place. It's my fault that they're here, Harry thought.

He glanced back over his shoulder and saw his friends grouped together, facing outward in defensive postures. A surge of pride at their readiness ran through Harry, but his knowledge of what was coming counterbalanced it. They had sharpened their skills in the DA, certainly, but not enough for what was coming for them now.

Harry spun round and charged his friends, snarling and posturing aggressively. Startled, the group fell back a few strides save for Hermione, who simply stood still with a blank expression.

Please, Hermione, don't be stubborn now! Harry thought darkly.

Harry reared up in front of his female friend and snarled louder, raising one large paw threateningly. She lifted her chin and folded her arms across her chest. By her posture, Harry knew she was not going to give way.

Harry closed his eyes and summoned up his courage. Please forgive me, Hermione…

One powerful swipe knocked her backwards, unconscious, into Ron and Neville's hold. Ron shouted an angry epithet and then swept Hermione up and started to carry her away. Ginny hurried forward to assist while Luna cocked her head at Harry for a moment.

The other Gryffindors had left the glade as Luna edged toward where Harry still stood, bereft and heart-sick.

“They'll understand, Harry,” she said kindly before following them from the glade.

Harry wished he could scream, but the spiders were advancing. He knew they depended on stealth and ambush, but so did he.

Time for the hunters to become the hunted, he thought and bounded off into the darkness.

# ######## #

Harry cleared three Acromantula ambushes from the path of his friends before his luck gave out.

Hermione woke up.

The group had covered all but the last eighth of a mile when they stopped. That should have been far enough, but Harry was tracking the trails of several larger spiders that were pursuing still; dangerously large Acromantulas.

The chance for easy prey was motivating their pursuit, Harry guessed. Crashing through the underbrush, he caught sight of the group as he rushed to divert the closest spider from them.

Obviously they must have caught sight of him as well, for a red beam struck a tree trunk above Harry's head. A few moments later he heard an exclamation of pain followed by an outraged shout, “What did you do that for?!”

Harry wished for an instant that he could turn back and see what was happening, but his arachnid enemy burst through the low growth and attacked.

Harry felt like time was slowing as he threw himself into the combat. As with the earlier spiders, Harry's focus narrowed to the creature and his mind and body were in complete harmony; thought translated into flawless motion.

The spider was easily a third larger than Harry, with commensurate mass. But the fight itself was over in eight seconds. The spider's rush and snap of fangs hit only air, while Harry's body twisted in mid-air during his jump and landed dead-centre on the spider's thorax, just above the abdomen, with claws extended and paws close together.

The arachnid's carapace caved in with a satisfying crack. The spider gave a cut-off shriek and collapsed under Harry. Leaping off to the side and avoiding the thrashing legs, Harry flipped his crippled foe over onto its back and opened up the creature's abdomen with one powerful swipe of his claws.

The bluish ichor from his kill still dripped from Harry's claws as shouts of alarm pulled his attention from his downed opponent. Spinning about, he ran full out toward the noise of hexes and yells.

When Harry found his friends, they were fighting off five Acromantulas of similar size to the one he had just killed. They were forced to double-team the spiders as single spells against them were having little effect and their odd number wasn't helping the matters. It was obvious to Harry that they were just barely managing to hold their own.

Ron's fear was obvious as he fought bravely nonetheless; his wand hand shook and his voice cracked occasionally as he cast his spells. Hermione stood next to him, controlled and determined; her spells flowed smoothly and powerfully. Luna stood at his back and matched Hermione's demeanour like a strange mirror.

Time was not on their side. Harry could hear movement in the distance. Jumping on the back of the Acromantula threatening Neville, he used his claws to blind the creature. It shrilled loudly and threw Harry off to retreat back into the woods.

One down, four to go.

Neville flashed Harry a quick grin before shifting to help Ginny with her opponent. Harry took a moment to assess the situation with the remaining arachnids before shooting off into the brush to circle back to catch Luna's attacker from behind.

Harry got to the position to jump the spider when the creature spun about and released a sticky rope of webbing to entangle Luna's feet. The Ravenclaw girl fell with a cry and her wand flew from her grasp. The spider began to pull the trapped witch to it when Ron noticed her difficulties.

He cast a strong stunner that knocked Luna's spider back against a tree with a loud cracking sound. It twitched once and then lay still.

“Diffindo!” The web was severed neatly and Ron turned to pull Luna away from the spider. But Ron turned his back on the remaining two spiders who took advantage of his distraction.

Hermione used a familiar spell on one spider. “Aranea Exhume!”

Her spider was knocked back several feet and lay still, but the other spider was given a clear shot at Ron's back. Harry shot forward, pushing his body to its maximum effort to intercept the spider before it could hurt his friend.

Ron glanced back over his shoulder and realized his peril. His eyes widened and his already pale skin blanched further. Hermione screamed at Ron to move, but the boy's phobia had paralyzed him. Luna struggled to reach her wand behind him though her legs were still bound together, crying desperately.

The Acromantula saw the blur that was Harry at the last moment and shifted sideways. Already committed to his final attack, Harry saw the shift and tried to correct his vector but missed his mark. The claws of one paw ripped along the spider's side, and Harry's inertia flipped him over the spider's head and into Ron.

He could hear the pained grunt from Ron when Harry's not-inconsiderable mass slammed into him. The spider shook violently from the wounds and sprang forward, aiming for the now prostrate boy. Hermione and Luna both screamed spells, but Harry knew that the spider's attack could not be stopped now.

Pulling his legs back under him, Harry crouched and waited for the precise moment to strike. As the fangs began to descend, Harry exploded into action and attacked the now-exposed underbelly as the spider reared back.

The sudden attack from the jaguar-form wizard stopped the Acromantula's forward charge and shifted its attention to Harry. As the two combatants strove to inflict damage on each other, a sudden red flash struck, distracting Harry at the wrong moment.

Sharp pain flared in his left shoulder. Harry screamed in agony and only dimly heard Hermione's spell kill the Acromantula. Moving through instinct only, he staggered away from the hulk of the spider to collapse.

Burning pain was creeping from his wound, followed by a creeping sense of numbness in its wake. He snarled reflexively at the first gentle touch, but Hermione did not flinch away, and lifted his head to cradle it on her lap. The others huddled around closely, concern evident on their faces.

Blinking hard to clear his blurring vision, he saw that all his friends were there. Ron leaned close, his face contorted in painful shame.

“I - I was trying to…It was meant for the spider, honest, Harry,” he whispered desperately.

Harry raised his head painfully slow and licked Ron's cheek softly. I know, Ron.

The creeping numbness was increasing. As he laid his head back down, he could barely see Hermione's tear-streaked, bruised face bent over him. Ginny was identifiable only as a blurred figure with a shock of red hair. Luna stood behind Ron and seemed to be trying to comfort him. Neville's dark form shuffled from foot to foot nervously beside Ginny.

A loud crashing noise caused his friends to look up, startled. Harry suddenly began to thrash as he remembered the other spiders he had heard. Hermione sighed in relief which Harry felt more than heard, and lowered her head to whisper in his ear.

“It's Hagrid and McGonagall, Harry. Everything's going to be fine.”

Darkness now edged his perception. Each breath was becoming progressively more and more difficult to draw. His legs were heavy now and the muscles twitched uncontrollably. The flurry of activity that now surrounded him was fading as his consciousness wavered.

Hermione's soft tones changed to rough pleading as Harry felt himself slipping into the dark. “Harry, stay with us. Stay awake, please. Harry -”

-->

Author's Note: OK, OK, so this isn't the exact last chapter, but it's the next-to-last!! I swear! This is the longest chapter to date in this story, but I had a great deal of ground to cover, as you will all see. Enjoy!

More Than Human

Chapter Eight - Transmutation & Pellucidity

…When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen's off with her head
Remember what the dormouse said:
"Feed your head
Feed your head"…

Jefferson Airplane, “White Rabbit”

The darkness echoed with random voices, rising and ebbing. Harry wondered if he was at the bottom of a deep well.

“… have to do something…” Ron's voice was strident.

With a supreme effort, Harry forced his heavy eyelids open. The gleaming wand tips were blurred rainbows. He felt like someone was kneeling on his chest; it was so hard to draw breath.

Hermione leaned close and cradled his head. “Harry! Stay awake…please, you must!” But Harry could not keep his eyes open despite her pleas and gentle shaking.

A brilliant light illuminated the grove suddenly. Even Harry could see it despite his closed eyelids. Several cries of relief were heard after the flash receded.

“Headmaster…help him! The Acromantula…”

The sounds faded away and the darkness was soothing. For a time, Harry felt himself drift weightless in it. But, then color began to bleed into the darkness, followed by growing, diffuse light.

Harry was within the jungle-visionscape once more. The lush green plants grew thick and luxurious; their leaves broke the bright sunlight into dappled patches across the lower grasses underfoot. The soft chuckle of flowing water drew Harry along the faint trail to find the low waterfall cataract grotto and peaceful glade he remembered from his earlier vision quests.

The sounds of birds and small creatures drifted from the forest as well. Harry looked about for his spirit-jaguar, but there was no sign of it within the glade.

“Where are you?” Harry called frantically.

There was no reply, and Harry had not expected one, truly.

Flopping down next to the picturesque stream, he pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them before lowering his head to rest upon them. If he could not locate his animal form soon, Harry knew he was very likely doomed. The text had been very clear in that regard.

The final vision quest was upon him now. There was no more time to wait.

He could feel the time ticking away in his head and his desperation grew. A strangely cold breeze brushed across him, ruffling his hair and causing a prickle of gooseflesh to rise. He lifted his gaze to scan the glade once more.

In his preoccupation, Harry could have missed the flash of light from the stream bed, but his Seeker skills stood him in good stead once more and helped him catch the faint glimmer.

Again, as before, he discovered a round mirror approximately the size of his hand in diameter under the rushing water, several feet downstream from the small waterfall. Harry leaned down to examine the object more closely, when suddenly the background noise fell silent.

Harry froze for a long moment and then slowly raised his eyes from the mirror to find the spirit-jaguar crouched on the bank directly across from him. The old fear skittered along his skin as the big cat's eyes stared back, unblinking.

“Oh, honestly, Harry! You know the cat is you already!” The statement chased the fear away and Harry smiled wryly, for he heard the thought spoken in Hermione's voice.

The cat remained still on the other bank as Harry pushed himself upright and faced this facet of his own psyche without any further trepidation.

[Do you know who I am?]

“Yes. You are me,” he answered the jaguar-spirit.

[But who are you?]

“What? I'm Harry Potter, of course.”

[And who is Harry Potter?]

“Huh? Who is Harry Potter?” Harry's brow furrowed in confusion as he repeated the spirit-jaguar's query. What is this all about? he wondered.

“I'm a wizard," Harry decided. "And you are me, I suppose, er…at least a part of me. Now come to me!"

[I cannot. It lies between us.]

"It? I don't understand what you mean," he stated.

[It lies between us. It has lain there for a very long time.]

"Do you mean the stream?" Harry queried.

The cat watched him intently, but said nothing more. Frustrated, Harry plunged into the cold water to reach the animal. Midway across the stream, Harry suddenly felt a great resistance, like hitting an invisible wall of thick molasses. He continued to fight to reach the cat who watched his struggles impassively.

The resistance intensified until Harry could barely make any headway against the strange barrier. The cold water of the stream swirled around his ankles and calves and Harry could feel the warmth of his body seeping away into the flowing water.

"What is happening?" Harry gasped. The spirit jaguar did not respond, though its eyes glittered for a moment.

Harry continued to struggle forward, inching closer by sheer force of will to the far bank. The cat did not move. With a final great effort, he reached out and touched the animal's fur.

Suddenly, the fur beneath his fingers began to darken in waves from where his hand touched. The tawny tones shaded into dark brown mottled with darker hues that were barely visible. Amazed, Harry looked up into the cat's eyes and watched the bright amber shade into peridot.

With a sigh, the cat rose and stalked forward into the stream. Once it completely entered the water, a bright flare blinded Harry for a few moments. The chill of the water became a dim memory as he felt the cat writhing and clawing within him. Agony shot through his frame, and in the midst of it, he could feel and hear his bones and sinews snapping and cracking as the cat moved within him.

Then the pain vanished as quickly as it had come. The cat had slipped into a void that Harry had not known existed within until the animal had filled it. A wave of knowledge swept through him at that moment.

He and his spirit animal were one. The Animagus change was now his to command.

Harry turned around and waded back across the stream. As he passed the mirror, a flickering light on his left side caught his eye. Harry could now see the light was shining through the translucent curtain of the small waterfall. The mirror in the stream bed must have been reflecting it earlier.

What now? he wondered. Looking around, the glade seemed quiet and serene. The water was no longer ice cold, but now was mild and comfortable.

He bent down to pick up the mirror, but found it gone. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see the light behind the water flare higher, and take on a golden hue. It also began to wax and wane in a way that Harry found almost hypnotic. Stumbling up the rocky riverbed, he soon reached the swift-moving cataract.

When Harry neared the waterfall, he saw that the stream emanated strongly from a fissure at the top of the tall stone outcrop. As he examined it, he was struck by the realization of its size and breadth. In all of his previous visions, this object had seemed smaller and blended into the background.

He put out his hand and separated the falling sheet of water, watching with some fascination as the water sparkled and splashed with unusual brilliance. Cupping a handful to his mouth, he found it to be clean and fresh.

The actual waterfall was only a thin layer of water moving fast. Behind it lay a small cavern. The light he had glimpsed shone from a shallow basin carved into the rocky floor.

Harry passed through the sheet of water and entered, shaking the water from his hair as he moved forward to examine the basin. It appeared to be all of one piece, smooth and even, the edge was only broken by a series of runes carved along the outer lip. Within the bowl lay scintillating fluid, silvery like that that would be found within a pensieve, but broken through with large flashes of light like looking into a diamond.

In the first glance around the dim niche, Harry could find nothing else unusual about this cavern. The moist limestone walls and scattered stalactites covered with patchy bits of lichen and moss were not peculiar to his eyes. But upon closer inspection, he found that the water on the surface of walls and floors was moving away from the basin. The water seemed to be welling up around the stone bowl and literally running up the walls to the top of the outcrop.

He crept closer, leaning slightly forward to look down into the basin. When he was only a step away from the object, Harry began to hear low voices. They faded in and out, like a badly tuned radio.

"No! ...mustn't let... who else could we trust..." A woman's voice pleaded, with frequent gaps of silence.

"... be reasonable... sure? But what... will work?" A man's voice replied in counterpoint.

Harry's eyes widened, but he could not deny recognition of those two voices. He remembered them well, even though the only time he could recall hearing them had been during the fugue state from a Dementor's attack. They were the voices of his dead parents.

The voices continued to whisper around him, defying his attempts to hear them clearly. Harry took the final hesitant step forward before a sharp feeling of trepidation swept over him and glued his feet to the floor.

As he stood frozen there, Harry began to wonder why he was afraid. Nothing in the cavern appeared to be threatening, so why this sudden terror? After all, he faced down trolls, Dementors, Death Eaters, even Voldemort himself; so why now, why here, was he overwhelmed by a trepidation that he could see no cause for?

A new sound softly entered the grotto. It washed over Harry and calmed the racing of his heart. The sweet tones were silvery and pure and oh so familiar. After a moment, Harry realized the Phoenix song was actually coming from the outside and not from within his mind. He could also hear the voices of his friends and teachers, but they were distant and talking over each other so much that he could not understand what they were saying.

The Phoenix song increased and began to resonate inside the cavern, causing Harry to shake his head against the odd throbbing sensation inside his ears.

Looking back down into the basin, he could see images coalescing within the swirling liquid.

Harry felt the spirit-jaguar shiver inside him.

[It is from Outside.]

But what is IT? He questioned silently, but the animal went silent once more. Staring into the basin, he was once more struck by the similarity this object had to a pensieve, and acting on a hunch, Harry knelt down and touched the scintillating medium.

When the whirling sensation passed, Harry found himself sitting on the floor of a comfortable lounge room with a crackling fire behind him. A large squashy couch lay directly in front of him, with a small low table between. The table was covered with blocks and stuffed animals, some of which were clearly magical as they blinked, moved or vocalized softly.

Light streamed into the room from the large windows on the right side wall. Stained glass transom panels above the clear panes were magical as well, depicting all sorts of medieval things like knights, damsels and magical creatures in active display. The outside scenery showed a picturesque view of mountains and trees in full summer leaf.

Looking around at the rest of the furnishings, Harry jumped back reflexively when he discovered the dark-haired toddler sitting just beside him on his left. The child sat quietly on the soft carpet before the hearth, head bent down as he played with several stuffed animals and picture books. Harry heard voices coming from beyond the room, indistinct but in heated discussion.

The infant looked up and Harry knew his identity at that moment.

The toddler was him.

The voices grew louder, and it was apparent that the argument was moving in the direction of the lounge. His younger self frowned and pouted a bit as he listened to the voices.

Lily Potter swept into the room, her cheeks flushed as she muttered under her breath, stalking to the sofa and flopping down into it. His younger self smiled brightly at his mother, which had the instant effect of softening Lily's disgruntled expression.

James Potter entered a few seconds later, his expression one of exasperation. Whatever had been the issue between them, it had clearly not been resolved.

James sat on a flanking armchair to the left of the sofa. His appearance caused the toddler to squeal happily and wave at his father. Like Lily, James' mood seemed to be mollified as he smiled lovingly down at Harry-the-toddler.

A silence fell then, broken only by child's sounds and chirped nonsense words as he went back to playing with his toys, content with his parents' presence.

Harry stood up slowly and tried to figure out what might be the problem, but he could not discern it from their body language. Anger flared for a moment in Harry's chest. The knowledge of how to read his own parents had been denied him. Who were these people he had always loved but could not remember?

"I've researched this, James," she spoke in low tones, breaking the hush. "I'm confident this spell will protect Harry."

"You're asking of great deal of me, Lils; of both of us, really," he replied, leaping to his feet. "Sacrifice a portion of our magical powers on the off chance that this ancient charm will work against him?" James paced anxiously. "You're asking me to willingly accept weakening ourselves at a time when we can least afford it."

Lily stared hard at her husband. "I ask nothing of you, James, that I do not ask of myself."

"Don't try and use that tack!" he snapped. "My objection has nothing to do selfishness, as you damned well know," James dragged his hands through his wild mop of hair. "How can you ask me to be less than I am now, when both of your lives could depend upon my skills?"

"Because, it's not just us anymore, Jamie. It's also our son and a...a prophecy."

James seemed surprised for moment and then asked. "Since when did you start to believe in prophecies?"

Glancing back over his shoulder, Harry found himself looking down into his own eyes as Harry-the-toddler sat solemnly, one fist clutching a toy owl by one wing against his cheek as he watched his parents. Harry smiled wryly at the toy. It appeared to be quite well-worn and well-loved stuffed snowy owl.

The young man turned back toward his parents. Yielding to a deep longing, Harry reached out to touch his mother's shoulder, only to have his hand pass through her as if with a ghost.

Lily reached forward and caught James' hand and halted his nervous movement. “Do you trust me, James?”

“With my life,” he responded softly. “But, don't think that will stop me questioning this idea, you know. I may not be as well-read in ancient magic and history as you, Lily, but I do know when you're not telling me everything. Truth be told, you're an awful liar, love.”

She looked quite cross for a moment before a reluctant smile worked free. “An awful liar, huh? Perhaps Sirius could give me lessons then?”

James sat down beside her and placed an arm around her shoulders. “Why would you want a second-rater like Sirius to instruct you? Everything he knows he learned from me,” he mock-boasted.

Lily turned her amused gaze from her husband's face to look down at infant Harry, who had returned to his quiet play in front of the fire. From his vantage, Harry could see something flash across his mother's face; it was a look of mingled determination and despair, possibly.

The young wizard felt a sick swoop in his stomach at her expression, a flash of the fearful feeling that had paralyzed him beside the basin. But what was the connection?

The lounge room began to blur; the separate colors ran together like watercolors as he watched. Harry cried out in denial; he did not want to lose this fragment of his past, but the memories shifted and moved like a living thing. He felt the sickening sense of movement similar to a Portkey and shut his eyes tightly, riding out the storm.

He found himself standing in a dark chamber looking on from slightly behind and to the right as his parents stood across from each other and prepared for a ritual. James laid his wand down and carefully added several drops of his blood to the small silver cauldron that steamed on the long, scarred wooden table. The cauldron's contents glowed red for a few moments before fading. Lily looked up at James and Harry could see a small wistful smile cross her face, but did not reach her eyes. She murmured something Harry could not hear clearly and departed the room for a moment.

Beside the cauldron was two diagrams and a golden goblet, but as Harry tried to move closer to look at their nature, he found he could not move. Lily came back in and returned to her side of the table. She consulted one of the diagrams that Harry strained to see, but all he could make out were some basic runes.

As he watched, his mother added several drops of her own blood to the cauldron and a brilliant green flash shot through the room blinding him momentarily. An instinctive shiver of revulsion swept through Harry as the glow subsided.

Lily decanted the cauldron's contents into the goblet and placed the cup in the center of the table. James turned and went out then; after a few moments, he returned carrying a tired infant-Harry draped over his shoulder.

Harry watched as his father held his younger self cradled in his arms while Lily anointed the child's forehead with some of the potion from the goblet.

She coaxed the infant's mouth open and dropped three drops of the potion on his tongue. The expression of distaste on the infant matched the sudden bitter taste in Harry's mouth.

The younger Harry fussed until James soothed him with soft words and a cuddle. The older Harry felt a tightening in his chest as he watched; the pain of knowing how short a time that the infant would have his parents opened up old emotional wounds that Harry could still feel inside.

Lily reached across and took the baby from James, and placed him in a sitting position on the table facing his father. His father took up his wand and consulting the diagram on his side of the table, began an incantation.

The spirit-jaguar within twisted and yowled in pain and Harry silently screamed in sympathy with it as he shared its agony. The words of the spell were drowned out as Harry almost doubled over and fought off the darkness that tried to steal his consciousness. With great effort, he managed to watch as his father's body glowed incandescently for a second and a silvery gray mist exuded from his form and began to coalesce beside him.

The wraith-like entity continued to grow and formed a vaguely stag-like shape; the miasma was lit from within as tiny rills of lightning shot through it. James' face was visibly graying, his eyes sunk into darkened sockets, as Harry watched. With an agonized shout from James, the creation shot across the table and into infant-Harry, who screamed out terror and pain.

“Dad!” Harry gasped as he watched James collapsed, unconscious to the stone floor. Lily cried out wordlessly, tears leaking from her closed eyes. Baby Harry was distraught; his cheeks were a furious shade of red and tears flowed freely.

Lily recovered her composure after a few moments, and Harry could hear her soft plea despite the screams of his younger self. He saw his mother's expression change from one of guilty remorse to one of anguished determination when she opened her eyes and looked down at her prostrate husband for a long moment before turning back to her diagram.

“Forgive me, James.”

She reached around the baby for the goblet and began to chant something that caused the spirit-jaguar to convulse in agony again. Lost in new torment for several moments, Harry was jerked aware once more by his mother's exclamation.

He forced his eyes to focus and saw his father had recovered and now stood behind Lily and was holding her hands apart. From the ritual dagger in one hand and the blood dripping from her other hand, Harry guessed she had intended to add more of her blood to the goblet.

James' face reflected a fury that frightened Harry; he wondered if his mother was in physical peril as she stood stock still in his father's grasp. His father took a long shuddering breath to control his anger it seemed before he spoke.

“What's this about now, Lily? We didn't discuss this part of the ritual, of that I'm certain.” James' voice was hard and sharp.

“Let me finish, James,” she replied in an anxious whisper.

“Let me see if my slower brain can puzzle some of this out, shall we?” he asked ironically. “If you add more blood to the ritual at this time, the effects…and the costs…become higher, right? Indeed, they would likely require your life in sacrifice at this moment to complete the safeguard charm, wouldn't it?”

Lily remained silent, but her body drooped slack in James' hold. He shook her for a moment, before snatching her back into his arms and holding her tightly.

“Sacrificing your life is not an option I'm willing to consider, Lily!” James ground out furiously. “And it's clear that I was to have no say in the matter, now was I?”

The furious cries of infant Harry continued and Harry watched, mesmerized at the dispute between his parents. His mother had intended to sacrifice her life at this moment for him?

“It must be done, James!” she cried. “I won't see Harry die! I can't…won't let that happen!”

James seemed to hear her anguish as Harry saw his eyes close for a moment as Lily began to sob brokenly. Baby Harry began to hiccup and choke as his distress went unabated.

Suddenly, James' eyes opened, and using Lily's grip on the dagger with his opposite hand, he sliced his palm open anew. Harry heard his mother's choked gasp as James reached across and gripped her bleeding hand and combined his blood with hers to drip into the goblet.

“For our son, Lily,” he murmured.

The goblet's contents burst into eerie blue flames several inches high. Lily snatched out something from her robes and added to the mixture. Harry barely managed to identify the object as a Phoenix tail feather.

The flames extinguished as the feather was consumed. Both his parents remained motionless, watching the goblet intently, as the silence stretched on.

Then the goblet began to vibrate and a silvery rill of Phoenix song could be heard. The sound soothed even the fretful infant Harry, but the jaguar growled and snarled angrily. The goblet's contents turned to a golden mist that gravitated toward young Harry.

When the first tendrils of the mist touched the young child's forehead, a sudden loud thunderclap sounded and then darkness fell over Harry once more and the swirling sensation took over once more. He could feel the jaguar within convulsing as if something was affecting the animal.

A brilliantly golden but ghostly Phoenix hovered in the darkness for a long moment before disappearing. The beautiful song echoed in the dark, rushing void as Harry felt the memories shift yet again.

The motion slowed, then ceased abruptly. Harry opened his eyes to look around and found that he was in the lounge room once more. Glancing out of the windows, he saw that the leaves of the trees were bright with autumn shades and that dusk was falling outside.

A muggle record player was located on the right side, tucked into a niche beside the brightly burning fireplace and rather unusual music was coming from it. Harry recognized the general sound, but could not place the group or singer; he felt he had heard the song before though.

Lily came into the room carrying a sleepy toddler-Harry on her shoulder. She went over to the chintz chair beside the phonograph, and settled into with her son cradled in her arms.

A new song started to play and after a moment, Lily began to sing along with the female singer as she rocked her son.

…When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen's off with her head
Remember what the dormouse said:
"Feed your head
Feed your head"…

The sound of a door opening and closing preceded James' call. “Lily?”

“In the lounge,” she called back quietly.

James entered wearily, pulling off his heavy wool cloak to hang on the coat rack. His face seemed somehow older to Harry's mind; lines creased his brow and dark circles shadowed his eyes.

Alarmed by the change, Harry moved forward to get a closer look as Lily looked up. She seemed equally aged and looked very tired.

As he watched, Lily brought the drowsy baby over and cuddled beside James on the sofa. The tableau was so peaceful and lovely that Harry could feel warmth from the image, but he could also discern darker threads of pain and suffering that underlay this serene domestic picture. What else was going on here?

A creeping chill caused him to chafe his hands together, but the friction did little to alleviate the numbing sensation.

“Well, this will be the first Halloween that I'm not celebrating,” James murmured.

Lily looked a bit startled for a moment and then smiled. “That's right; I'd forgotten its Halloween tonight.”

Harry recoiled in horror when he heard them speak. Halloween!

A loud and frantic ringing bell suddenly sounded in the room. Both his parents jumped to their feet. James swung around to stare at a plaque hanging above the entrance to the lounge room.

The plaque's Gryffindor lion stood rampant and proud, but its golden color was bleeding into black.

“Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off -”

The scene went dark and Harry could feel movement, and hear the stumbling footsteps of his father leaving the room. Another sensation passed over him, distracting him from the cold.

The room came back into focus and Harry could see the desperation in his mother's face. Anti-apparition wards must have been cast. She dashed from the room through the door in the left wall. Harry pursued her.

Behind him, Harry heard the door blasted open and the sounds of combat spells being cast. Lily sobbed as she dashed up the stairs and into the nursery. Harry watched her as she placed the whimpering toddler down in his crib and rushed to the window. She tried to open the window but to no avail.

There came a resounding crash from downstairs that caused Lily to spin from the window and whisper. “James…”

She moved to the crib just as the high-pitched laughter resounded from below. Harry felt a sudden rush of energy hit him. The spirit-jaguar snarled and lashed out in defensive response.

Shaking his head clear of the dizziness the wave of magic had caused, Harry found his mother staring down into the crib. He moved forward and saw that the toddler-Harry was surrounded by a glowing white nimbus of light that shimmered and moved like a living thing.

“Of course…” Lily's voice trailed off as she closed her eyes.

The nursery door slammed open at that moment and Lily turned to confront the chilling laughter and glowing red eyes of Voldemort.

“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!” she begged.

“Stand aside, you silly girl…stand aside now…” Voldemort motioned threateningly with his wand, but Lily stood firm between the dark lord and her son.

“Not Harry!” she screamed. “Please - I'll do anything! Please, have mercy!”

Voldemort paced closer, the pleased malice in his eyes very evident.

“Stand aside,” Voldemort hissed, raising his wand higher. “Stand aside, girl!”

Lily lunged forward, snatching for the wand, but missed as Voldemort drew it back quickly.

“”Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead,” she gasped. “Not Harry, please...have mercy…”

Harry watched Voldemort's wand rise and heard the horrific curse once more. “Avada Kedavra!”

Lily spun round and reached down into the crib to touch her son's face and spoke softly just before the curse hit. “For our son…”

She screamed and collapsed, but Harry felt a second surge of power course through him. The spirit-cat howled in agony as this second wave mounted, greater than the first. Harry heard the Phoenix song return, growing louder and felt the cat and himself being…shaped…changed by it.

Voldemort moved forward a pace and arrogantly cast the Killing curse again without even looking at the toddler in the crib. Harry watched as the green beam intersected the nimbus of now golden energy around his younger self and the two began to interact.

The flash of brilliance blinded him; a crack of thunder sounded and the whole house shook around them. A glowing golden ball of light now glowed where the infant-Harry had been and slowly began to float up into the air.

Voldemort stumbled back in dismay as the orb of light appeared from the crib and slowly shifted into a form. Harry felt it within him as the scene played out before him; bit by painful bit; he and his earlier self were being remade as he watched.

The golden phoenix glowed softly for a moment, and Voldemort shrieked his curse again, “Avada Kedavra!”

The green energy struck again and the phoenix flashed and became a newborn. But this was nothing like Fawkes' controlled life cycle in the Ministry of Magic. All sound seemed to be silenced as the flash froze still for an instant and then exploded outward in a terrific wave of pure energy.

Harry saw the wave hit Voldemort. The dark wizard twisted and writhed, his barely-human face contorted in agonized rage as he was literally disintegrated within a few seconds, leaving behind only the wispy, disembodied spirit Harry remembered from his earlier confrontations with the dark lord. It shrieked once and fled the room.

A secondary explosion of magic came then and the house started to vibrate itself apart. Rushing to the crib, he saw his younger self transform from the wrinkled, flightless phoenix chick that had resulted after the casting of the second curse. The house shivered and quaked around them, but inside the globe of radiant energy around the infant-Harry, everything was still and serene.

The energy flared again and destroyed the house down to the foundations. Splintered beams and shattered glass lay all around them. Harry stared around him in awe as the chaotic energy simply evaporated, leaving behind the crib, its crying occupant and the bodies of his slaughtered parents untouched; all the house's debris had been confined to fall around them as if the debris were only pick-up sticks arranged by plan.

The memories swirled again, and Harry suddenly found himself back in the cavern. The cold feeling was much more pronounced now, and he could feel it stealing through his very veins.

Stumbling to his feet, Harry made his way out of the cavern to find his spirit-jaguar squaring off against his parents' gift, the spirit-phoenix, made of their magical powers and love.

“Stop it!” he exclaimed, rushing to put himself between the two creatures.

A terribly cold sensation passed through Harry, causing him to shudder and stumble. The rocks of the cataract burst apart and a large fountain of water spouted from the rubble.

The Phoenix swelled in size as Harry watched. The jaguar screamed a challenge, and as it charged forward, it too grew in size. Instinctually, Harry knew that they must not fight; that he and they would die if they did so.

He managed to position himself between the animal-spirits, which both turned aside from attacking Harry. But the antipathy of each for the other was clear. Unfettered magic energy filled the air and Harry felt as if all the hair on his head was standing on end from the raw wash of power.

What was not clear to Harry was what he was to do about this. There was no helpful advice he could turn to in this moment. The animagus text had never even mentioned the possibility of multiple forms. Hermione had certainly never discussed such an option or possibility when she had been persuading him and Ron to take McGonagall's class. He really wished he could ask for her advice at this moment.

As he desperately pondered what to do, voices laced with concern and desperation came to him in snatches.

“…understand! Why won't he…” Hermione's voice, harshly questioning.

“Harry's dying, you bloody overgrown feather duster! You…” Ron's tones of righteous anger.

“Fawkes, please assist us…Fawkes…?” Dumbledore's quieter request, turning to unsure pleading.

The cold was growing faster, creeping up his limbs. Harry felt as if the weight was leaning on his chest had increased threefold. Each breath was a struggle.

{You're dying, Harry} The voice of the spirit-phoenix was odd and seemed to echo strangely in the grove. {You must decide soon, or you will be lost.}

“What do you mean?” he gasped.

{You need to choose.}

[It wants to be of us. To supplant us.] The jaguar snarled. [Do not permit that to happen.]

Harry shook his head, totally confused. The Phoenix form was his mother's magical power to protect him; his father's magical skill in transformation. But hadn't the spell completed its task already?

“Why are you still here in me?” Harry questioned the Phoenix.

{The parts created me and we are all of one part now,} It replied. {You caged me, and now, we are of you.} Harry could now discern that its voice was two separate voices, speaking together. The bird spoke with the voices of his parents.

“I don't understand,” the young wizard asked faintly. He could feel his heartbeat thudding hard inside his chest, like he had been running hard or chasing down a Snitch. “You aren't me, because the Jaguar is, right? What do you mean by parts?”

{The parts came together into one and we became one with you.}

What did it mean by that remark? Harry looked down at his feet for a moment, feeling warmth surrounding his feet. The water of the stream was clear no longer. It was opaque and the color of blood.

Blood. His parents' ritual involved blood. His mother's blood, shared with his aunt had allowed Professor Dumbledore to create his protections for Harry. Voldemort needed Harry's blood to complete his ritual. There was too much coincidence in commonality of the presence of blood for Harry to overlook. Was it all about his parents' efforts to preserve him against Voldemort that was the issue here?

The spirit-Phoenix rustled its feathers anxiously. {Do not cage me again.}

The jaguar snarled wordless defiance and lunged. Harry barely managed to intercept the creature's advance and deflect it.

“Stop it, both of you!” Harry gasped. He stumbled to his knees as weakness passed through his limbs. He felt the two spirit forms press closer; close enough that he could just reach out and touch them.

But how could he choose between them? The jaguar was his inner self, but the phoenix was the tie to his dead parents and their sacrifice. Both existed within him now, equal but separate.

“But this is not a fair choice,” He whispered desperately. “It's more like no choice!”

No choice…Harry felt the thought echo in his mind. Could the solution be as simple as not choosing one over the other?

The scene was darkening as if the sun was setting; golden light bleeding into crimson. Whatever he was going to do, he needed to do it quickly.

Putting out both arms in opposite directions, Harry deliberately used his remaining strength to touch his spirit animals as he spoke.

“I choose…both of you!”

Energy shot through him, like lightning to the ground. The jaguar within became overlaid by the phoenix form; both patterns existing in the same place, but discretely separate as well. Darkness swept him toward the voices that grew louder.

“I can't understand why he won't help Harry!” Hermione's tone was shrill now and slightly hysterical.

“I cannot answer that question, Miss Granger,” Professor Dumbledore's voice was clearly puzzled and concerned. “But since there is no way to coerce a phoenix to assist in such a fashion, we must seek an alternative solution. Hagrid, please carry Mr. Potter to …”

A rush of warmth ran through Harry as he listened; it mingled with the dark venom in his veins and fought. There was a breath of wind against Harry's cheek and he heard Hermione snap. “Will you finally help him then, you useless, jumped-up chicken? He hasn't much time…”

Phoenix song blanked the rest of the voices. The warmth receded for a moment, then returned even stronger, accompanied by the uncomfortable sensation of shape shifting. Harry felt his mass and form reducing and felt oddly light.

He managed to open his eyes and found his vision blurred and fuzzy. Blinking a few times, Harry realized that he was looking down at his friends and teachers from a small height. Hermione's face was scratched badly on her left cheek and Ron's forearm had a deep gash that was still bleeding sluggishly, Harry noted. The other students also had minor injuries.

What was more peculiar to Harry was that they all seemed to be staring at him with the same bemused expression. Indeed, both Ron and Hermione bore an identical stunned and gape-mouthed look that made them appear almost related. The warmth was fading, and the painful chill was creeping back, but Harry did not feel alarmed by it. The change seemed to something completely normal; something to be accepted and even anticipated.

He looked around shakily, and noticed the bodies of the acromantulas still lay in the glade, though obviously moved together to the far side. It was hard to focus clearly because he seemed to be rocking steadily up and down. As Harry turned back to his friends and teachers, he glimpsed Fawkes at his right shoulder, just outside of his wing draft, singing softly.

Hang on….wings? Harry squawked most unbecomingly for a phoenix and bobbled clumsily in the air for a moment. He had changed forms without consciously willing it? The chill and numbness attacked again as he wondered about what he had just done.

From the corner of his eye, Harry saw his more gold than red plumage begin to darken and droop. Several feathers dropped from his shoulders and Harry felt his joints become stiff and painful. The rush of changes through him was hauntingly familiar.

Without warning, darkness rushed over his vision and Harry felt it strike to the very bone. All grew still and silent for him then, save for the distant sound of Hermione calling his name.

Suddenly, a small sun of warmth blasted into life within his core and burned outward in ferocious burst. It consumed everything in its wake, but recreated as well. Fawkes' happy trill echoed as Harry's form flashed.

The wave of energy mounted higher and then, like the snapping of a bow, it released. A low rumble dimmed Harry's hearing in the aftermath.

“Harry!” Hermione's scream combined with Ron's desperate yell. Other exclamations of both fear and wonder came from the others, but he could not discern their words.

THWUMP!

Grayness seemed to surround Harry as he came back to full consciousness. Feebly straining toward the fleck of light above, he found himself in a small pile of ashes. Everyone was gathered around him and were all looking in rather good form. Their clothes and faces were all clean and mended fully. They all hovered above him and seemed to be staring down at him with more than a touch of awe in their expressions.

Feeling much worse for wear, Harry wondered, a touch resentful, why they had not cast the same spells for him. Feeling enough of his own energy return, he teetered a bit away from the group and concentrated on his human form and how it should feel.

The snapping and cracking of bone and tendon was now rather mild and the sudden increase of mass felt proper. Harry happily flexed his hands and found them to be familiar and completely human. Reaching up to his face, Harry was reassured by the feel of normal cheeks and his proper nose. A sudden frightened wondering if he might have botched his return change and ended up with a nose like Snape's had prompted his investigation.

Relieved, Harry turned round to face his friends and teachers. “I've done it!”

His bright smile began to fade as his announcement seemed to provoke ill-concealed amusement amongst his watchers. Ginny was snickering before Ron forced his hand over her eyes. Luna was the only person who responded to his declaration.

“Well done, Harry,” she said with a vague smile.

Hermione had looked down at the ground, and seemed to be struggling to control her emotions; a hectic flush was visible on her cheeks. Neville was clearly embarrassed and looking around at everything but Harry. McGonagall was beset with a coughing fit, Hagrid looked puzzled and Dumbledore looked highly diverted.

With his usual aplomb, Ron sent several grimaces and strange glances that Harry could not decipher. Finally, flummoxed, Harry asked. “Ron, what are you going on about?”

Ron gave a strangled gasp and fought to keep his hand in front of Ginny's eyes as she began to fight to free herself.

Hermione looked up then, and with a small, rather smug smile, said. “Harry, you forgot to transfigure your clothes.”

Blood rushed to Harry's now-human cheeks as he sat down in a flash and pulled his legs up in front to cover himself. “Oh god…” The heat of his face rivaled that that he had felt in the phoenix form.

Dumbledore conjured a robe and Harry accepted it with alacrity. “Perhaps it would be best all around to head back to the castle and have a small snack and discuss why you students are here in the Forbidden Forest, hmm?”

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Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Any characters or situations that are unknown in the HP series are the author's intellectual property and should not be used without permission.

Author's Note: OK, given my bad karma when it comes to Divination predictions, it seems that this is not the last chapter that I promised previously. Harry et al are proving to have a little more to say and do before getting to my conclusion. I love to see characterization as much as plot in a good story, so bear with me. I won't give a hard and fast prediction, but they seem to need another couple of chapters, so I'll oblige them.

And thanks to my writing compatriots: Wishweaver and Full Pensieve for their reviews and inspiration.

Chapter 9 - More than Human

Revelation and Disillusionment

A fortnight after the fight in the Forbidden Forest, Harry rubbed tired eyes in a vain attempt to focus on the text before him. The intricacies of changing an Animagus form's basic coloration to blend into an environment were extremely complex and he felt more than a bit inadequate to the task at the present moment.

Blinking hard, he glanced up and around at the rest of the class for a moment. The majority of the advanced Transfiguration students were working on completing their vision-quest presently, though on his right, Ron looked as if he might be dozing rather than vision questing.

Hermione on his left side radiated nervous tension and she was perspiring, even though the classroom was by no means over warm. McGonagall prowled the aisles to assist the students and stopped to help a Hufflepuff sixth year two rows behind.

“Oi! What the bloody…!”

The loud exclamation snapped Harry's attention back to Ron, who was gazing transfixed at the back of his hand. A band of what appeared to be striped grey and white feathers ran along the back of it to disappear beneath his shirt sleeve.

Ron's outburst caught the Professor's attention as well and brought her sweeping up to the desk where the three friends sat.

“Congratulations, Mr. Weasley,” she said, raising Ron's hand to examine the change. “And your form is what bird?”

Ron looked flummoxed by the question, and Harry could hear an exasperated hiss from Hermione on his left. McGonagall tapped her foot impatiently before requesting Ron review his personality chart and probable animal reference traits.

As Ron stumbled through a recitation of his scroll, Harry heard a soft murmur from Hermione which drew his attention. She was staring at their friend as the Professor listened to Ron recite his possible forms, but something dark moved in her eyes. He tried to catch the expression, but Hermione caught his eye then and it vanished.

“Well, I would believe that the last creature on your list is the form, Mr. Weasley,” The Professor's crisp tones pulled Harry's mind back to Ron's predicament.

Ron's face reddened. “But, it's a bloody bird!”

“Language, Mr. Weasley!” McGonagall frowned sharply.

Ron still appeared greatly distressed. “But what good is a Perry-ring? It's a small bird!”

McGonagall lifted one eyebrow before replying. “Peregrine, Mr. Weasley, as in Peregrine Falcon. It is a raptor, smaller cousin to hawks and eagles. Also, this particular bird is the fastest bird in the world when it swoops down on its prey and its ability to intercept prey in motion is unparalleled. Strangely fitting given your Keeper abilities, I would daresay.”

Ron brightened at that statement considerably before the final realization that he was able to become an Animagus hit him. His face grew pasty, freckles standing out across his cheeks and nose, before turning to look behind him.

Glancing over his shoulder, Harry followed Ron's gaze back to the half-dozen students who were working independently at the rear of the classroom. He felt a pang of discomfort now that he recognized that his red-haired friend would now be required to join those other students who had completed the vision-quest to determine if the change could be integrated and accepted by the wizard. One part of the quest was done, now came the final part. The hardest part of all.

Of the class so far, only Harry had completed the full change and integration, though Professor McGonagall had wryly commented that this particular class was turning out to have the most potential of all the classes she had taught to date.

Those who had not found an animal form had moved on to other complex transfiguration projects to complete the class time. They had taken over the left side of the classroom and were working their projects.

The class time drew to a halt as McGonagall dismissed the class soon after her discussion with Ron. The students began to depart the classroom quietly, murmuring amongst themselves. Harry gathered his things into his bag while lending a half-an-ear to Ron's excited prattling about the possibility that the animal form might help give him an edge in playing Keeper for Gryffindor.

“Miss Granger, a moment of your time if you please.”

Hermione seemed to flinch a bit at her Head of House's request, but acquiesced quickly enough. Harry and Ron both tarried at the door to wait for their friend, but McGonagall arched her eyebrow and directed them to get to their next class.

Harry shot one last look at Hermione's tense back before he closed the door and promised himself to ask what was bothering her later that evening.

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Harry wearily trudged up the Grand Staircase to Gryffindor Tower later that evening. He had just finished an intense Occlumency training session with Dumbledore. At the end, they had discussed some of Dumbledore's theories regarding the nature of his mother's protective charm and what it had really done.

Harry knew that of the three of them, only Hermione could understand the bulk of the theories and facts of which Dumbledore spoke, but his last statement still echoed in Harry's mind.

“Magical energy has many aspects similar to muggle electricity, you know,” The old wizard had said softly, his hands steepled in front of his chin. “Voldemort fears his own death very much; this you already know. But in order to make oneself immune to a thing, you must also create an equal vulnerability to its opposite. A Phoenix's power is neutral in nature, but your parent's sacrifice was of that of ultimate love; the love of those who willingly lay down their lives for another. That sacrifice appears to have shifted the polarity of the power of the Phoenix form and, based upon what I observed in the Forest, I believe it continues to affect it even now.”

Mumbling the password to the drowsy portrait, he crawled through the hole behind to find the Common Room was deserted by this late hour. Harry sighed wearily, and trudged to the empty table in the nook next to the fireplace and slumped into a chair.

The late night sessions were something to which he had become accustomed, but now added to his training regimen was a great deal of extra-curricular transfiguration work with McGonagall regarding his Animagus forms.

Harry had learned the basic clothing transmutation quickly enough to surprise the dour McGonagall; the memory of his embarrassing experience acting as a spur to his efforts. It still haunted his dreams occasionally.

Scrubbing his hand through his disheveled dark hair, Harry spotted Ron's book bag and its contents spread across on the table top and he smiled wryly. It looked like a small bomb had exploded in it. As he looked about the Common Room, Harry's thoughts wandered to the rather stilted and difficult discussion with Ron regarding the rift in their relationship the night after Harry's return from the Forest.

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Ron watched from his bed as Harry made sure all his things had been brought from the special suite. The other boys had already welcomed Harry back happily and had headed to the Common Room to try to get an impromptu party going. Ron fidgeted in the quiet of the others' departure. From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Ron's face contort into a series of grimaces before he spoke.

“Harry, about the…erm…,” Ron ground to a halt.

Harry encouraged him to continue, “Yes? What about..?”

Ron's cheeks began to flush a bit. “Well, I…er, it's good to have you back, mate,” he blustered.

Harry remained calm but held his ground. "'Mate', is it?" he said. The iron emotional control that the Animagi forms had taught him came into play and felt correct at this moment.

Ron's brow furrowed. "Of course it's 'mate'," he blustered. "How could it ever be anything... else...?”

"Exactly," Harry said. He thrust folded trousers into his bureau, and did not bother to give Ron a glance.

The silence stretched like a rubber band until Ron broke under the tension.

“I'm sorry I didn't believe you at the beginning of the Tri-wizard tournament! I never thought you would be one to hold a grudge for that!” Ron spat.

Harry spun about. Did the daft prat think he was sulking over events more than two years past?

“You think I'm angry about that?” Harry asked. Anger rose behind his control and he found himself clenching his fists. Ron's obtuseness was aggravating, but Harry reminded himself of Ginny's discussion with Hermione about Ron's experience with his uncle. He jammed his hands into his pockets and forced his ire down.

Ron saw his reaction, and a deeper flush spread across his cheeks. “I've already apologized for that, you know.” His tone reminded Harry of Percy's pompous utterances.

Harry's eyes narrowed. That tore it. With a sudden spring, he changed form and pounced on his friend, who yelled dramatically as he was bowled over. Pinning Ron's shoulders to the floor with his paws, he went still and gave his red-headed friend a penetrating stare.

Ron recovered quickly from his shock, and thinking Harry was horsing about, was trying to wriggle free. Ron seemed determined to act like his normal self, but Harry worried that it was a façade for his benefit. Discomfort still lurked deep behind Ron's eyes.

With his superior strength, Harry resisted Ron's attempts to break free. After a few moments, Ron caught on that Harry intended something other than rough-housing and he stilled.

Harry backed up a few paces and deliberately sat down to continue staring. He could see Ron's complexion change and his eyes flinch from Harry's gaze. The fear that Harry had smelled before was present, but altered into something that made Harry's cat instincts uneasy.

Ron scooted back against the side of his bed and began to finger his bedspread nervously; eyes downcast and it seemed to Harry that his friend was determined to remain silent.

With a heavy sigh, Harry shifted back to human form and started back to his trunk when he caught the faint whisper behind him.

“It wasn't your fault, you know…it was me…”

He spun about to watch Ron gulp down a hard breath before continuing. “I don't…Really, can't… I know I was mental about your, erm, change…I'm sorry.”

Harry knew that his friend was expressing something painful from deep within and it made Harry uncomfortable to watch. His red-haired friend had always been his benchmark of being normal, not just a normal wizard, and seeing him struggle now threatened Ron's idealized position to Harry's mind..

“It's alright, Ron,” Harry said quickly to halt Ron's agony. “Really.”

Ron looked up hopefully. “Are we alright then?”

“Sure. Mates, even.” He answered with a grin before returning to his unpacking.

Ron shuffled to his feet and sat on the edge of the bed as Harry continued his unpacking. After a few inconsequential comments regarding the upcoming Quidditch matches and the generally dismal prospects of the Cannons, Harry felt confident that things were going back to normal.

The rising commotion from the Common Room indicated that Dean and Seamus had been successful in their impromptu party attempt, and Harry finished emptying his trunk with some speed to turn and suggest they go down when Ron said quietly, “My uncle, he tried to be an Animagus, you know. But my uncle's change went wrong, Harry; really wrong.”

How could he respond to that? Did he tell Ron he already knew the story from overhearing Ginny and Hermione discussing it? Harry decided against that tack immediately.

“Uncle Leo, my dad's younger brother, well, he tried on his own to do the change and it…it…was horrible, Harry,” Ron's voice was ragged. “Really awful.”

Harry sat down on the edge of his bed, humbled to hear Ron speak of his personal demons. “I'm sorry about your uncle, Ron.”

Ron looked up with a lost expression. “Might have been better for him if he had died than…” A furtive look crossed the red-head's face and he looked away.

“He didn't die then?” Harry blurted out before he could stop himself.

Ron looked torn for a moment then asked softly. “Harry, you can't tell anyone about what I'm going to tell you. Can you swear not to tell?”

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Harry sighed and shook himself free from his reverie. He had hoped to find Hermione still up studying; he wanted to tell her what he had learned from the Headmaster as well as ask her to review his last Potions essay. It had been her wont of late to stay up and wait for Harry to return from Dumbledore's sessions, but the room was empty tonight, with only a candle burning on the far table and the fire slowly burning down in the fireplace.

Trudging over to the far table on the left of the fireplace, Harry hefted his bag into a chair and rummaged through to find his Potions text. Snape, being his usual self, had assigned extra work to Harry for having the temerity for finding a way to avoid his detention with the Potions Master. The extra work had required a good deal of effort on Harry's part, but now the essays were almost complete.

Harry flopped down into a chair and put the work in front of him with a sigh. He could almost hear Hermione's voice telling him not to put off finishing the essay. With a chuckle, Harry set to work on the last foot of essay regarding the standard method of obtaining Diricawl feathers (which entailed using rather elaborate ruses to convince the bird it was in danger so it would disappear and leave a puff of feathers behind), and the uses of said feathers as a potion ingredient.

For a time, the only sounds were the scratching of his quill and the occasional turning of a page. The fire died down further as he worked; the common room grew dimmer as the candle burned down as well. He reached the bottom of the scroll and punctuated the last line with a flourish.

Stretching the stiffness from his neck and shoulders, Harry read over his work for a few moments before putting his head down on his arms to rest for a moment.

The loud slam at the portrait hole woke him from his doze with a jerk. He could barely make out the protests of the Fat Lady about the rudeness of some people before he made out the bushy brown hair of his friend. The candle had burned out while he had slept, and the only source of light was the glowing embers of the fireplace.

She flopped down on the couch before the fire without once glancing in Harry's direction. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he hesitated to speak for a moment; he watched from his shadowed position as Hermione stared into the dying fire.

Wondering how to best approach his friend, Harry did not catch the sound of her crying at first. The sobs were soft and muffled; she did not intend to be overheard. The tone of her weeping was different from what Harry had ever heard from her before. Different for her, but oh so familiar to him. Despair.

He was used to tears of temper or frustration from Hermione, but these soft sobs tore him from deep inside, because he knew the emotions. They were the same tears Harry had wept while locked in the cupboard as a young boy.

Harry closed his eyes against the onrush of his memories; the desolation of never being able to succeed in pleasing his relatives; never being able to win any acceptance. In Hermione's sobs, Harry heard the echoes of his younger self eerily overlaid.

She shouldn't cry like that, Harry thought. She has a family that love her…Has something happened to them?

Standing silently, he crept to the back of the couch. She did not react to his presence, and Harry had to steel his courage to keep from sneaking off up the stairs. Why did emotional girls have to be so frightening? This was Hermione after all! Be a Gryffindor, Potter, and get on with it!

He took a deep breath, steeled his courage and reached over to lightly lay his hand on her shoulder. Hermione let out a single shriek of surprise and whirled about so quickly that Harry's cat reflexes instinctually kicked in and he leapt back and shifted form to crouch defensively against the table leg.

Hermione's widened eyes peered over the back of the couch, and even in jaguar-form, Harry could see they were reddened. Her nose and cheeks were flushed and damp as well.

For a long moment, neither moved, then her face disappeared from view and he heard a soft whisper. “Go away, Harry.”

A part of him wanted to do just that, but Harry knew that he could not leave his friend like this. He needed to know what had happened.

He leapt lightly to the back of the couch before hopping down onto the seat cushion beside her. Concentrating on shifting back, he spared a quick glance at himself to be sure his clothes had transformed back in place before he focused on Hermione.

She averted her face and stared at her hands in her lap. The overlay of sensory perception from the shift lingered, and he almost flinched from the scent of despair that she exuded.

“Are you going to tell me what's wrong, or should I guess?” Harry inquired.

Hermione's shoulders hunched a bit, but she did not respond. He sighed. “I'm not going to leave until you tell me, you know.”

She lunged to her feet, and Harry stood up as well, blocking her escape. With an angry growl, Hermione tried to slip around him and reach the dormitory stairs. He caught her hand in a light grasp which stopped her instantly.

“What is it, Hermione? Please, talk to me,” Harry pleaded.

“I - can't, Harry…I can't do it…I can't - ch - change!” Hermione cried, tears running down her cheeks.

“Change? What are you talking…oh?” He trailed off when his brain caught up to his mouth and supplied an answer. Hermione turned her face away but did not try to pull away from Harry's hold.

What should I say now? He wondered.

“Hermione, it's not horrible if you aren't an Animagus,” The disbelieving look she shot him was clear and he desperately cast about for a new approach. “Animagus transformation isn't all it seems. Take the Ministry's `Registry' for example.” Harry finished darkly. His experience with the Ministry's Director when his form and markings were added to the roles had been unpleasant to say the least.

Hermione's eyebrow arched and she shot him a look that made it clear that he was failing miserably at reassuring her. As he cudgeled his brain for something better, Hermione's face crumpled.

“If I don't change…if I can't change, then how can keep up with you…a-and Ron, of course… I'll be a liability then, won't I? Useless…” she whispered.

Stunned, Harry could not think of a reply. She pulled loose from his grasp and slipped away up the dormitory stairs.

Harry flopped down in to the depths of the couch and tried to think of what to do next. If this was a normal problem, he would have taken it to Hermione for advice and options, but now he had to find an answer for this situation by himself. In that moment, Harry recognized how much he depended on Hermione for such things, and that he felt sure he would only mess up trying to help on his own.

First thing tomorrow, Harry was going to organize some help, and for once, Hermione's dilemma would become his problem instead of the other way around.

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Harry tried to broach the subject of Hermione's situation with Ron at breakfast, but soon recalled why trying to discuss anything with Ron while there was food present was a bad idea.

“Ron, I need to talk to you about something. It's very imp -” Harry started.

“The Quidditch practice schedule, right? We're going to need some more time if we're going to get sharp for Ravenclaw, that's for sure. Can Katie get more time on the pitch, do you suppose?” Ron replied, reaching for some more rashers of bacon.

“No, Ron, it's not that, it's about Her -” Harry tried again.

Seamus chimed in then regarding the relative strengths of the Ravenclaw chasers, or really about the “talents” of the star chaser, Sarah Fawcett. The discussion went off on that tangent as others chimed in on the subject. Harry impatiently waited for topic to be exhausted before trying to broach the problem with Ron once more.

As he opened to his mouth to try again, Harry caught sight of Hermione heading down the aisle to their section of the long table. He snapped his mouth shut and suddenly concentrated on his breakfast.

Hermione took the seat across from the boys and was careful to avoid Harry's eyes, after her first sharp glance at him. He smiled with forced cheerfulness, but she did not respond in kind. He kept shooting furtive glances but she kept her head down over her small breakfast and ubiquitous book and only responded absently to the greetings of the other Gryffindors.

“So, what did you want to talk about that's so important, mate?” Ron asked innocently.

Harry closed his eyes and prayed that the floor would suddenly open up and swallow him. Daft git needs to really work on his timing, he thought sourly.

Hermione's head shot up at Ron's question and in a sudden stroke of inspiration or rather, desperation, Harry said. “Having the extra Quidditch practices, of course. Katie should be able to schedule something this week hopefully.”

Hermione's face showed instant relief, and she returned to her book and breakfast while Harry wondered if he could be dropped from Gryffindor House for such an abject display of cowardice. It was clear to Harry that he was going to have to be a bit sneakier to have any hope of avoiding the wrath of his female best friend.

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After his first class, Harry took a chance on catching Professor McGonagall in her office. Unlike breakfast, his luck held good and his Head of House ushered him into her office immediately and offered him a biscuit that he politely declined. His stomach was in nervous knots already, and he did think he should risk possibly making his situation worse.

“Well, Mr. Potter, to what reason do I owe your visit?” Professor McGonagall inquired.

Harry drew a quick breath. “I'm here because of Hermione, Professor. She's, erm, well…see, it's like this-”

“She's been unable to complete a vision quest,” McGonagall interrupted impatiently. Harry winced as she continued. “Miss Granger has refused to select any project to complete for the class work requirement. At such a point, I have informed her that she stands in jeopardy of failing the course if she does not choose something else within the next week.”

Harry did not like the sound of that. Hermione fail a class? “She needs help, Professor. Is there anything we can do? Hermione's the smartest witch in our class, but surely there's something -”

McGonagall's stern demeanor softened a touch. “Mr. Potter, there is no way to make an animagus. The ability must be present and then the witch or wizard must integrate the form within themselves. Most people can not complete both steps, which is why the skill is uncommon.” She lifted her hand in a silencing motion when Harry opened his mouth to protest.

“Mr. Potter, it is very likely that Miss Granger does not have an animal correspondence form, and is not able to become animagus. Both you and she will need to come to terms with that fact if this is the case.”

Disappointment lanced through Harry. What could he do then, if McGonagall thought the chance for Hermione's being Animagus to be slim at best already?

"Maybe I shouldn't have destroyed the potion Hermione was going to use on herself then," he said regretfully.

McGonagall's eyebrows rose sharply. “Potion, Mr. Potter? To which potion are you referring?”

Her tone was edged, and it put Harry on edge as he replied. “A hypnotic potion. Hermione was going to use one herself to try and help me.”

The older witch's face blanched visibly, and she lowered her face into her hands for a moment. Harry was nonplussed by McGonagall's atypical emotional response.

“Miss Granger may very likely owe you a life debt, Mr. Potter,” The Professor's voice was muffled until she lifted her face once more to face him. A silvery trace of a tear glistened on her cheek. She straightened her posture and her features became composed into familiar lines.

“A hypnotic potion can be used, but only as a therapy device for a witch or wizard trapped as you were, Mr. Potter, but it would not help Miss Granger substantially in her quest unless it was altered in a particular manner.” Professor McGonagall's voice held a note of self-reassurance despite her now confident manner.

“She did alter it. I saw her add her blood to it and cast a spell over it,” Harry responded instantly, and regretted it when McGonagall's face whitened even further. Whatever Hermione had been doing, now Harry suspected it was something very dangerous.

Professor McGonagall rose and uncharacteristically began to pace anxiously behind her desk. “Do you know where she gleaned that knowledge, Mr. Potter?” She rapped out. Harry shook his head.

She continued to pace, alarming Harry with the intensity of her reaction. “Professor, Hermione is the best of our year. Surely she could have found the information in the Library or through class…?”

McGonagall spun on her heel and narrowed her eyes at him. “No, Mr. Potter. The information regarding such alterations is highly restricted, not only by Hogwarts but by the Ministry as well. Miss Granger would require access to Professor Dumbledore's personal library or the Department of Mysteries to find this specific usage.”

She shook her head and went to gaze out the mullioned window that overlooked the main courtyard of the castle. Uncomfortable in the following silence, Harry fidgeted. He had not meant to get Hermione in trouble with McGonagall, but as the silence stretched, Harry felt more and more certain that he had.

“I will have Professor Snape restrict all the critical components needed for hypnotic potions immediately,” Professor McGonagall stated. “I must make a request of you that you may not appreciate, Mr. Potter. I would prefer that you volunteer to assist in revealing how Miss Granger obtained this information.”

Harry was taken aback. “Professor?”

She sighed heavily and turned from the window. “I require you to find out how Miss Granger got the knowledge to alter the potion, Mr. Potter. If there is another source for the procedure, then I need to know where it comes from as soon as possible.”

“I can't…spy on Hermione, Professor!” Harry protested angrily. “She was only trying to help me! She's my best friend…”

“I understand her motives very well, Mr. Potter. My request is not made with the intent of punishing her or anyone else. The knowledge must be restricted, and immediately.”

Harry held her stare defiantly for a long moment, but McGonagall's face did not change other than she simply arched an eyebrow imperiously and waited. The pit of his stomach dipped lower with each passing moment. He had no intention of giving in to this demand, and he would make sure that his Head of House understood that fact.

----------------------------------------

Harry was still thinking about his meeting with McGonagall as he sat in the Common Room after dinner that evening. He had been firm and direct, explaining why he could not betray one of his oldest friends and that such a thing should be unthinkable by any honest Gryffindor worth his or her salt.

McGonagall had listened to his arguments, her expression calm and open. Then she cut the legs out from beneath him without a shred of remorse.

If she had to investigate Hermione's knowledge, it was very likely that the Ministry would learn of it from their spies here at Hogwarts and demand to know the full particulars of the situation. The damage that could be wrought to Hermione's reputation and future could be catastrophic. Given Harry's own experiences with the Ministry in general, he could certainly imagine the worse occurring to his friend.

So here he sat, trying to figure out how Hermione had researched something and feeling absolutely bewildered on how to approach the question without access to Hermione's assistance. The other students loitering around the Common Room went about their business and he felt resentful that they could go along without care while he was tied into knots.

He slouched down on the couch a little further and grumbled to himself internally. Hermione might tell him about the potion if he could catch her unawares, but did not have the faintest clue how to approach her that would not make her suspicious of his questions. Professor McGonagall counseled him to be subtle; a suggestion which Harry did not find especially helpful at the moment.

Frustrated, Harry pulled out his Charms text and tried to concentrate on his homework as a distraction. He read the assigned chapters twice, and then gave up when he realized that he was not retaining anything. Only a few stalwart students were still studying in the Common Room by this hour, and Ron was already upstairs in the dorm.

Harry placed the text back into his bag and scrubbed a hand through his hair. The tension knotted the muscles in his neck and shoulders. What he really needed right now was a good hard run in his jaguar form, but he had promised to keep his wandering to a minimum and to be inside by the curfew, which had tolled almost an hour ago.

Climbing up the steps to the dorm, he fished out a meat stick from the front pocket and took a bite. The changing of form increased Harry's appetite, which was already large given his age, to a greater measure. The increased caloric need would taper off in time, so McGonagall had arranged for Dobby to keep Harry supplied with snacks in the meantime.

Harry put away his things and prepared for bed quietly. The other boys were already abed and snoring. He sat down cross-legged on his bed and snagged his meat stick back to finish it when an imperious meow came from the floor at the foot of his bed.

Crookshanks leaped up onto his bed and blinked piteously. Harry snorted and then growled softly. “She has you on a diet again, eh?”

The half-Kneazle hissed. “I am not fat!”

The ginger tom stalked forward to stand with his front paws on Harry's knees. “Meat please,” he entreated.

Harry snorted. “Hermione will peel me if she finds out that I've been sneaking you stuff, so watch the breath around her.” He tore a chunk off and the cat quickly devoured the morsel.

He shared the rest of the stick with the tomcat in amicable silence. Crookshanks purred loudly and curled up into a neat ball beside Harry, who stretched out and placed his hands behind his head.

“Going to sleep it off over here are you?” Harry chuckled. Crookshanks shot him a superior look and curled up with his back to the boy.

Settling into the covers, Harry checked that the dorm door was ajar for Crookshanks to use if necessary before removing his glasses and snuggling down into his pillow to sleep.

----------------------------------------

Harry woke with a start and sat bolt upright in the bed. Crookshanks protested the sudden interruption of his sleep with a drowsy mew, but Harry paid no mind. He threw back the covers and hurried over to his school trunk.

Digging to the bottom, he extracted a wooden box roughly the size of a shirt box and flipped the catch open. Inside the box was a rolled up parchment and the shattered fragments of a silver mirror and its frame. Harry rolled back from his knees to sit on his heels as he contemplated the contents of the box.

He had dreamt of the single visit to Grimmauld Place after Sirius' will was finalized and gathering the separate items that Remus has given him as per Sirius' instructions. Harry could still hear the echo of Hermione's comment at the time from his dream… “It looks like an old school journal, Harry…you should read it when you get the chance.”

It was Sirius' school journal which dated from his days at Hogwarts when he, Harry's father and Peter Pettigrew had become illegal Animagi to help their friend Remus. And it was now missing.

Harry inhaled sharply and a whiff of familiar scent that clung to the latch reached him. Looking up, he pinned the sleepy Crookshanks with a hard look. “Where's the bloody journal?” he snarled softly.

The orange tomcat uncoiled himself from his spot on Harry's coverlet and stretched leisurely. Harry waited impatiently for the creature to slowly amble down the bed and perch at the foot; the young wizard hissed loudly at the insouciant attitude of the feline, who was assiduously grooming his face and whiskers while ignoring the boy's question.

Harry's hiss was loud enough to cause Ron to jerk and mumble in his sleep, while Seamus turned over restlessly. He remained still until the boys settled back down into deep sleep before turning to the half-Kneazle familiar once more.

“I know she took the thing,” Harry spat. “I can smell her scent on the box latch.”

The cat continued his ablutions without comment. It was obvious to Harry that he needed to bring some real leverage to bear to get an answer from the tom. He grabbed his schoolbag and extracted another meat stick from the front pocket. Biting off a sizeable bit, Harry locked eyes with the cat as he slowly chewed. He had the cat's full attention now.

Crookshanks' eyes narrowed in vexation. Harry bit back a smile and took another bite as the tomcat watched. “Where does she have the journal stashed?” Harry asked.

“She is my mistress,” the cat responded, gazing longingly at the food. “I cannot betray her secrets.” Crookshanks turned about and headed back to his spot on the coverlet.

Desperate, Harry pleaded, “I need to find that journal before Hermione gets into trouble. She's really in danger of getting into very big trouble.”

The ginger cat turned back and leapt to the end of the bed. “Danger to my witch, fang-brother?” he hissed, beginning to pace anxiously. Harry nodded solemnly.

The cat leapt down to the floor and sat beside the boy. “I will help you for her sake…” he meowed, his eyes still on the food. “And for a share of your food.”

Harry gave the remainder of the snack to the tomcat and scrambled to find his Invisibility Cloak. The tomcat had finished the meat by the time that Harry had changed his clothes and grabbed his trainers.

Crookshanks darted from the room and Harry followed him down the stairs as quietly as possible. It was Harry's good fortune that the Common Room was completely deserted by this time.

The cat had begun to climb the stairs to the Girls Dormitory when Harry called him back. “I can't get up these stairs, Crookshanks. They're warded against boys.”

“But the thing you seek is in my mistress' room,” the tom replied, turning at the first landing to look back at the young wizard.

“Can you bring the journal out to me?” Harry queried hopefully.

The tomcat gave him a disbelieving look before responding. “The book is in her storage place near her bed. I cannot open the thing.”

How could he get around this problem now? Harry plopped down onto the back of the couch and remembered Ron's ignominious attempt to go up and get Hermione during fifth year. He did not want to alert the entire Tower to his activities.

Crookshanks hopped down a few stairs and cocked his head questioningly at the young wizard. “Why do you stalk the stones?”

Harry jerked his angry glare away from the stairway and looked askance at the cat. The ginger tom bounced down to the bottom and leapt onto the couch to sit down next to Harry.

“You cannot eat the stacked stones,” Crookshanks continued curiously. “They do not move, so they are not useful for a game. Why do you watch them so?”

Harry huffed. “Because I need to get past the blasted things, but I'm a boy!”

Crookshanks cocked his head a moment, considering the problem. “I am a tom, as are you, fang-brother. The steps recognize you as a wizard, but maybe not as a cat.”

Harry was about to brush aside the cat's reckoning, but he stopped. An animagus' change didn't depend on time and in all other aspects was as if the witch or wizard was born the animal in question. Perhaps the stairs would not recognize Harry-the-wizard in Harry-the-jaguar.

As Crookshanks bounded ahead, Harry began a stealthy ascent of the stairs, cringing at the dreaded fourth step, eyes closed and shoulders hunched, waiting to hear the loud claxon to sound and the stairs to change into a slide. But on the fifth and sixth step, the silence remained unbroken, and with a sigh of relief, Harry bounded up the stairs after the ginger tom.

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Author's Note: Hey, all! Here's the next chapter for me, and I apologize for the delay, but in the wake of the Book-Which-Should-Not-Be-Named, I found it difficult to find the love for the characters that I once had. But, I plan to finish this fic, and thank all of you for reading. There will be one more chapter, and an epilogue to follow.

Happy Reading!

Chapter 10 - Dangerous Territory

Early the next morning, Harry absently greeted the first risers of Gryffindor House as they headed off to breakfast before returning his attention to the book on his lap. He could feel some more than mildly curious looks for his early morning occupation.

Ron came down a few minutes after the first exodus to the Great Hall with a sly smirk and took a seat across from his friend. Dean and Seamus clattered down the steps, followed by Neville and Colin Creevey. They headed out the portrait hole with Seamus engaged in telling a rather off-color joke. He passed out of Harry's hearing as he reached the punch line but Harry heard the huffy exclamation of the Fat Lady followed by the definite slamming closed of the portrait hole that cut off the boys' laughter.

Harry looked back at Ron and found him staring with an expectant expression.

“What?” He questioned his red-headed friend.

“So, how were your dreams last night? Anything you'd care to share?” Ron waggled his eyebrows knowingly.

Harry was taken aback. “My dreams? What are you on about, Ron?”

Ron leaned forward, looking about the empty common room before whispering. “You were saying girls' names in your sleep, mate.”

Harry froze, and felt the rush of blood to his cheeks. “Girls' names? I don't know what you talking about.”

“You were muttering, but I clearly heard Parvati's name. Maybe Lavender as well, though I expected Hermione's name as a given. Bloody girl is on a tear again about the latest Charms test that's coming up and how we haven't studied properly for it,” Ron shook his head sadly. “The girl is almost as bad as she was in Third Year.”

Desperately, Harry dove back into his book to avoid Ron's gaze and sought for some comment to distract his friend. “Well, erm - you know how important such things are for her. So, how about the new strategies for the Ravenclaw match?” Ron's expression grew suspicious as he narrowed his eyes and inwardly, Harry prayed for intervention.

Distraction arrived in the forms of Hermione and a loud growl from Ron's stomach. Harry glanced up quickly at his female friend and stuffed the book he had been reading into his bookbag.

Hermione's eyes reflected her surprise at both boys' presence. “A bit early for you lot, isn't it?”

Harry just shrugged nonchalantly, while Ron rubbed his middle. Hermione smiled and shook her head. Ron followed Hermione, while Harry tarried behind for a moment, hoping that the blush that had risen to his cheeks would subside by the time they reached the Great Hall.

###

A few hours later, Harry returned to the empty Common Room with a deep sigh of relief. He'd been struggling all day against his memories and reflexive blushing. If only Ron knew exactly why he'd been muttering names last night. Would probably put the red-head off eating for a day or so.

He'd managed to enter the dorm undetected, but was surprised to find that the 6th year girls dormitory was still lit. The boys had been asleep for at least a couple of hours by now, but the girls were still up and about. Maybe Hermione's late night studies weren't so unremarkable after all.

Slouching down into the chair near the fireplace, Harry closed his eyes wearily as he recalled what had happened to him last night.

After climbing the stairs and slipping through the door silently, Harry tracked Hermione's scent to her bed and trunk easily enough. He heard the voices of the girls, including Hermione's, coming from the bathroom beyond.

Quickly, he shifted form to human and carefully lifted the latch on the trunk. It had taken only a moment to lift the lid, and find the journal. He had snatched it up and lowered the lid quietly. Such good luck, he thought.

Of course, it couldn't last for him, now could it?

The sound of the bathroom door opening had sent him into a shift and a quick dart under Hermione's bed. He was lucky that Hermione was as neat as he and Ron were messy. The floor under his bed would not be as clean and bare as hers had been.

Peeking out from the end of Hermione's bed, he had an excellent view of the girls entering from the lavatory in their selected nightwear selections.

Somehow, up to now, Harry had never spent much time imagining or fantasizing about the about underwear choices of girls as the other boys in his dorm had, but he was certainly making up for that now.

Parvati's nightdress was a short, sheer negligee that didn't look like it could stand up to a strong draught, much less the usual chill of the Castle. Harry tried to avert his eyes from her shashaying form, but the flash of multicolor behind her caught his gaze with horror.

Lavender preferred an incredibly loud tartan teddy, but not one of the shades in it blended well with the starkly magenta shade of the face cream that was slathered across her face like a mask.

Her blond hair was bound up in rag curlers that stuck out at odd angles from her head. The image had been horrifying compared to Parvati. The perfumes of the two girls drifted to his nose, forcing Harry to restrain a sneeze with difficulty.

Harry pulled his head back a bit from the edge as Hermione approached her bed. She was much better kitted out for sleep to Harry's mind with her overlarge tee-shirt and sleep pants. He wondered how the other two slept at all in their outfits.

He relaxed a bit when the girls crawled into their beds. After all, it didn't take long for the boys to get to sleep in his dormitory once they retired. With a silent sigh, he arranged his feline form more comfortably to wait.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

What followed was a graphically frank discussion of the various merits of the boys in their year and more information than Harry would have ever wanted to know about his fellow students. The only bright spot to the scene was that Hermione didn't participate in the general talk, but Lavender and Parvati didn't seem to require any additional input to continue. He guessed that Hermione was already aware of that fact.

As she sat in bed and read, the warming of the bedcovers released more of her scent. Harry felt his eyes beginning to droop closed as it relaxed him. It slowly overwhelmed the strong patchouli of Parvati and the heavy floral perfume that Lavender favored. He much preferred Hermione's scent anyway normally, but his animagus form enjoyed it. That fact was a bit disconcerting for Harry to acknowledge.

“So, Hermione, which is it? Ron or Harry?”

The sharp question caught both Harry and Hermione by surprise. His eyes widened as he heard Hermione's stunned response.

“Pardon me?”

Lavender snorted. “Don't give us that, Miss Prefect. Which one do you prefer? Or have you already had them both?”

“Well, neither one is hard on the eyes,” Parvati chuckled. “Though I would think Weasley would be a passionate snog if you got him going.”

“I'd agree with that, though it might be hard to be in competition with a good shepherd's pie for attention.” Lavender chortled.

Harry heard Hermione's book slammed shut. “I don't know what you two are on about, they are my friends!”

“So? It's not a crime for you to date your friends. We just want to know which one is better,” Lavender said. “Or do you prefer having both of them? Tsk, tsk, Hermione, it's rude not to share the wealth.”

Harry felt his eyes starting to cross; an uncomfortable state given his current form. These two were the worst gossipmongers in the entire house, and he didn't like to contemplate what else they might be saying about him and his friends.

“It's none of your business who I prefer, Lavender!” Hermione spat.

Parvati made a dissenting noise. “Of course it's our business, you silly girl. We need to know, information like that is important. You don't want some other girl to inadvertently poach on your territory, do you?”

Hermione was making strange gasping sounds that were starting to concern Harry. “Ron and Harry are my friends. I thought I made that clear enough during fourth year!”

“That was fourth year, Hermione,” Parvati sighed. “This is sixth year. Things have changed.”

A short silence fell, and Harry worried for a moment that he might have been discovered, then Hermione said softly. “It doesn't matter who I like, Parvati. They are their own people, and they make their own decisions.”

“Then you wouldn't mind if I asked Ron to go to Hogsmeade with me?” Lavender asked archly.

“Of course not!” Hermione exclaimed heatedly. “He's his own person and can decide for himself if he wants to go with you.”

“I bet I can get Harry off by himself there,” Parvati said. “You know the old saying; the quiet brooding types are always the best at the physical stuff.”

Harry nearly came out of his skin at that comment.

“Harry wouldn't fall for such a pathetic ploy,” Hermione sneered.

Harry shuddered in agreement. The idea of being pursued by a girl wasn't completely awful, but the uncomfortable impression of being stalked chilled him. He would make a point to avoid any possible encounters with the dark haired girl in the future.

“Oh, really? He's a boy, after all,” Lavender answered. “They are rather simple that way, you know.”

Parvati laughed. “And that's how we know he would fall for it.”

Hermione's tone turned to ice. “If that's all you're going on, you're sure to fail.”

“Oooh,” Lavender cooed. “I think someone's issued a challenge, Parvati.”

Harry felt the bed shake as Hermione huffed loudly and heard pages being turned.

“Well, shorten the skirt and open the blouse. That's the quickest way to get his attention,” Parvati said wickedly.

Harry raised an eyebrow at that. Not bad of an idea, in general, but he wasn't enthusiastic about the whole idea of Parvati using it to come on to him.

The bed began to shudder and the pages began turn furiously. He knew Hermione was a fast reader, but not that fast.

“A nice shade of lip-gloss and a touch of Sleekeasy's to finish the look,” Lavender chimed.

“And what should we talk about?” Parvati asked.

“There has to be talking?”

Hermione's book slammed to the floor just scant inches from Harry's head. He jerked back reflexively and then froze, hoping his movement hadn't given his presence away.

“Of course there has to be talking,” Parvati said archly. “It can't be all snogging.”

There was a long pause. “It can't be all snogging?” Lavender queried worriedly.

“Of course not, so what would be of interest to someone like Harry Potter?”

Harry wondered himself during the pause. What would interest him for conversation with a girl? He had never really thought about that aspect of a dating relationship, and his previous track record with girls he was interested in was not stellar.

“Well, he's not especially interested in schoolwork, so classwork is out,” Parvati sounded thoughtful as she continued. “Though he's pretty brilliant at DADA.”

Lavender snorted at that. “Discussing Hinkypunks and Dementors would put me off any thought of romance first thing.

Both girls fell quiet then, and Harry felt the bouncing of Hermione's leg against the bed impossibly increase.

“Of course, there's…,” Lavender started to say.

“Quidditch!” Both girls exclaimed in unison, and Hermione's leg stopped bouncing.

“Harry is not a trophy or prize to be won!” Hermione spat furiously.

Harry flattened his ears against the volume, but his friend's outburst brought the other two girls to silence. It went on for such a time that he was seriously tempted to peek out to see what might be going on between the roommates.

“So, it's Potter, isn't it, Hermione?” Lavender asked, her tone soft.

Hermione did not respond.

There was a tumult of thought passing through his mind at this. Hermione liked him, possibly more than simply as a friend? What should he do about that? For the major part, he felt dreadfully confused.

“What are you waiting on then, Granger?” Parvati asked in a similar tone to Lavender's. “You should be landing him by now. The boy is pretty much putty in your hands, we've all seen that.”

Putty? Outraged, Harry nearly growled aloud. He was not putty in Hermione's hands!

He heard a soft sob and then the curtains slammed shut violently around the bed. Hermione cast a Silencio then, and began to cry bitterly.

Harry cringed beneath the bed, wanting to comfort his friend but knowing that if he revealed his presence, he would only hurt her more. Crookshanks pushed his way through the curtains and gave Harry a hard glare before leaping lightly to the bed above.

Hermione greeted her familiar, and from the rustling, she was snuggling the ginger cat for comfort. He laid his head down to the cold flagstone and waited.

Hermione's crying slowed and finally ebbed into silence. Harry cautiously inched his nose through the curtains beyond the Silencing spell and listened to the sounds of the other two girls.

Lavender was snoring rather loudly, and Parvati's breathing was slow enough to indicate sleep as well. Harry nudged the book out in front of him and carefully slinked from beneath the bed. Some time had definitely passed, because the cold of the stone floor and the tight position had cramped every muscle.

Snatching the book into his jaws, Harry beat a hasty retreat back to his own dormitory.

His bookbag fell against his leg and brought Harry back to the present. He needed to finish Sirius' journal as soon as possible. It had to be the source of Hermione's knowledge of the tailored Hypnotic potion that so worried Professor McGonagall.

With a heavy sigh, Harry opened the book and settled more comfortably into the seat cushions.

###

The quest for the information lasted until just before dinner. Harry turned a page and noticed a strange heaviness to it. Examining it closer, he noticed a slight magical tingle as he ran his finger along the edge of the page.

Going with a hunch, he pulled out his wand. “Finite Incantatum.”

The pages fell apart and revealed the process by which the Marauders had managed to make Peter Pettigrew an animagus. Including their deliberate “pranks” to get sent to the headmaster's office enough times to gather the information necessary for the potion, he found that part with a sense of relief. McGonagall would be pleased to learn that the procedure's information had still been contained from general knowledge.

“Yes!” Harry shouted. The other students in the Common Room looked up from their studies or games in curiosity. He ducked back down behind the book with a faint blush. Way to be inconspicuous there, he thought.

He dug out a spare fragment of parchment to act as a bookmark and went to place it when a movement on the page caught his attention. An ink splotch appeared to be disappearing around the edge of the page in question.

Turning the page, Harry pursued the splotch and placed a finger in front of it. It swerved away from his finger and slithered over the edge of the page. He flipped to the next page and found it blank except for the ink splotch that was slowly forming into a silhouette of a dog in the center.

Harry began to wonder what other things Sirius' journal contained. Plucking his wand from his pocket, he cast a standard revealing spell.

The ink dog shook himself and lifted his leg. Ink droplets began to spray from the book, causing Harry to slam it shut and then cast a quick “Scourgify” to clean his clothes and face.

He heard the portrait hole open then, followed by Ron's voice asking Hermione why she wouldn't let him copy her notes for Charms. Harry shoved the journal inside his bag to examine later and rose to greet his friends.

Hermione was quiet during dinner that evening, and Harry felt the tension she exuded. McGonagall's deadline was rapidly approaching. The trio parted after dinner; Harry and Ron returned to Gryffindor Tower while Hermione headed to her usual nook in the Library.

After two rounds of Wizards Chess where Ron trounced him unmercifully, Harry pulled out Sirius' journal to research it further while Ron tried to work on his Charms scroll before Hermione found out he'd put off to the last minute.

The procedure that Harry had uncovered was detailed and precise. He noticed that the scribing of the section varied with three distinct handwritings as he read through the procedure by which the Marauders had “helped” Peter Pettigrew achieve his Animagus form.

He fought off a shiver of revulsion at that. Hermione had intended to follow Pettigrew's example to achieve an Animagus form. Something was so wrong with that concept that Harry felt physically ill.

By the time he'd finished the section; Ron had completed a few inches on his essay and was now definitely fighting to stay awake. His head kept dipping toward his arm, then jerking back upright. The motion made him appear like a strange red-headed bird bobbing its head up and down. Harry smiled and glanced up at the ornate water clock on the mantle and saw the hour was late.

“You should call it an evening, mate,” Harry said.

Ron looked up and blinked before responding. “Yeah, that sounds brilliant. You coming?”

“In a bit. Want to ask Hermione a question about my last Potions essay.”

“Good luck with that,” Ron wished earnestly. “Don't let her talk you into rewriting it though.”

Harry smiled and nodded as his friend bundled his books together and headed up the stairs. There were two others still studying, and since Harry expected Hermione to return any moment, he flipped the journal open to the beginning of the blank pages where he'd seen the magical ink dog.

The dog was curled up at the bottom of the page, appearing to be asleep, but Harry was more surprised by the appearance of a stag silhouette from the edge of the page. The stag moved slowly, regally across the white expanse until he stopped next to the sleeping dog and turned his head as if looking out at Harry.

“Prongs,” Harry whispered, reaching out to try and trace the ink animal. The stag bounded away from his finger, then turned about to face it and lower his head as if threatening to charge.

A third ink blotch appeared above the first two and resolved into what appeared at first to be another dog, but after closer scrutiny, Harry recognized it to be a wolf. It circled his finger and looked to be bearing its teeth.

The standard revealing spell had not worked, so Harry suspected it was something special to unlock the mystery; something only known to Sirius and the other Marauders. Sitting back with a frustrated sigh, he glanced up at the clock and realized that it was past midnight. Hermione should have been done her last patrol nearly thirty minutes ago.

The last two students finished up and departed with a quiet good night to Harry. He waited until the sound of their footsteps faded before he fished out the Marauder's Map and activated it to find Hermione's indicator. She was slowly moving back toward Gryffindor Tower. Harry wiped the map and placed it back into his pack before returning to the book.

The ink animals had moved to the outer corners of the two facing pages and were still now. It couldn't be that simple, could it? Harry wondered with a flash of inspiration.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he whispered and tapped the journal with his wand.

The animals blurred and ran into lines that resolved into the dominant handwriting of the journal's author. Harry recognized it also from Sirius' letters to him.

The section was short, but fascinating. Sirius had not had an easy time with the change either. James had been the first to master it, and Harry's godfather had been very jealous of that fact.

James was the one who discovered the Muggle relaxation techniques that had assisted Sirius with his problem with the transformation. He, like Hermione, had had great trouble with the vision quest portion. James had observed the difficulty his friend had had and scoured the books in the Library for a solution to no avail.

Harry laughed out loud at the next bit. The book with the answer had been Lily's muggle book on mediation techniques. James had swiped the book earlier that year, not because of the subject matter, but because it was hers. Sirius' record of taking the mickey out of James over the book was classic.

The rest of the section documented the process of meditation that Sirius had used to affect the vision quest and find his inner animal form. Harry hurriedly bookmarked the page and shoved the book into his bag once more.

He heard Hermione give the password to the Fat Lady as he latched his bag shut, and looked up to see his friend enter, shoulders slumped. She sat down in the squashy chair next to the fire and murmured an absent greeting.

“You're a bit late tonight, aren't you?” Harry answered as he took a seat on the nearby coach.

“I stopped to see Professor McGonagall about what topics are still available for the Advanced Transfiguration class,” She responded sadly, not looking away from the fire.

Harry found her sadness to be upsetting. “Perhaps, you can try the vision quest one more time?”

“Oh, Harry, of what earthly good would that be now? I've failed every time I've tried,” Hermione glanced at him, and then looked away with a faint blush on her cheeks.

Harry suppressed the urge to squirm at that reaction. Was she reacting to him, or was it her own feeling of failure that was causing her embarrassment. “When do you need to decide on the topic, or have you already done so?”

“I have until Monday's class to decide,” She answered slowly. “Professor McGonagall gave me the weekend to think over the topics first.”

He racked his brain for the best way to bring up what he'd discovered in the journal without tipping her off. The silence dragged on and made Harry quietly desperate to say something constructive. It was hard to think clearly with his new awareness of Hermione's possible interest in him.

The distant sound of voices from the girls' dormitory steps echoed down, followed by the sound of footsteps descended. Harry jerked his head around in alarm. Lavender and Parvati were coming down to the Common Room. Remembering the events of the previous night, Harry suddenly knew what he should do.

“So, Hermione,” He turned back to his friend who raised her eyes from the fire when he spoke. “Er…Want to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow?”

She furrowed her brow in puzzlement at his tone. “Certainly, I need to pick up some new quills and ink and Ron's been whinging about running low on Chocolate Frogs.”

Harry suppressed a sigh. He was such rubbish at this relationship stuff. “No, I meant…”

“Harry!” Parvati's excited squeal was excruciating. Several of the portrait's inhabitants covered their ears. He felt the sound ring in his ears for a few seconds as she came across the room.

Harry saw Hermione's expression turn stony, her dark eyes glittering. He glanced over his shoulder as the other girls approached. One didn't need to be a seer to know this wasn't going to be good.

Lavender hesitated near the table with her gaze switching from Hermione to Harry and then back again. Parvati seated herself on the arm of the couch; much too close for Harry's his comfort. Harry made a point of sliding a few inches away from her while keeping his eyes carefully away from the overt display of leg.

“Are you going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?” Parvati asked him with a bright smile.

“Yes,” Harry answered curtly.

“Brilliant, we can go together then,” The witch slung her heavy fall of hair over her shoulder in a calculated gesture.

Hermione's foot began to bounce. Harry shifted a few inches further away from Parvati and fixed his gaze on his friend.

“I was hoping to ask about the last catch of yours against Hufflepuff; I've never seen something like that before,” Parvati cooed.

Hermione shot to her feet. “He can't go with you! I've already asked him to go with me!”

Parvati looked shocked for a moment, then smirked. “Oh, really? Is that true, Harry?”

Hermione's face was flushed, her eyes desperate as she silently urged him to back her up. In that moment, Harry saw the field clear and glimpsed a metaphorical Snitch and, without a pause, seized it. He would get to go to Hogsmeade with Hermione, and he wouldn't have to make a bigger fool out of himself tonight.

“Yes, I am going to Hogsmeade with Hermione,” He replied with a grin. “I've only been waiting on her to ask me.” Parvati looked as stunned in that moment as Hermione did.

###

“You don't need to spend all day with me, Harry,” Hermione said again in a low voice as they waited in line to checked against Filch's list.

“I thought the point of going out on a date was to spend time together,” Harry kept a straight face with difficulty as he watched Hermione's eyes narrow. She huffed in vexation at his deliberate denseness.

Ron stood behind them, barely managing to restrain howls of laughter. Luna watched his antics with a soft smile, and occasionally shook her head when he sniggered aloud. Hermione hunched her back and stolidly ignored their red-headed friend's amusement.

Thankfully, no one else seemed interested in the by-play at present. The rest of the students were far more focused on passing through the roster check and getting down to Hogsmeade.

Ron's difficulty was mildly amusing, but Harry wondered if perhaps telling Ron that Hermione was going on a date with Harry to Hogsmeade after the scene in the common room had been such a good idea. Remembrance of the conversation drifted through Harry's mind as they waited in queue.

Harry had been concerned about Ron's feelings and felt it important to talk to him about the possible change in their three-way friendship. So he had chosen to tell him straightaway that night.

After Ron had woken up fully enough to comprehend what Harry was telling him, he'd brayed with laughter so loud that Harry slapped a silencing charm on him and hustled him into the bath.

Ron asked about Parvati's “move” on Harry after he got his breath back and Harry lifted the charm. “So, did she sit on the couch arm in that really short skirt of hers.”

Harry smirked. “Yes, the short skirt, and yes, her legs were nice, but she was only doing it because of a challenge. And to upset Hermione, I would reckon.”

Ron blinked owlishly. “How'd you figure that, mate?”

“Because they talked about it before…,” Harry stopped short as he realized his error.

“Talked about it before what?” Ron scrubbed a hand through his hair and yawned.

Harry fudged the facts a bit at that point and made it seem that he'd overheard them conspiring in the Common Room. He knew he couldn't admit to spying on the girls in their dormitory, even as accidental as it had been.

“So, then Hermione asked you for a date?”

Harry bit his lip. He couldn't let that perception stand. “No, I asked her first to go with me, but she didn't understand.”

Ron was silent for a moment as he digested that. “Well, you know, if you hurt her, I'll have to flatten you like a rogue Bludger.”

Harry leaned his head back against the wall. “I know, are you alright with this?”

Ron's hands were gripped tightly in his lap. “I'm not good with all of it, at least not yet,” he said with a sigh. “It's weird, but if it isn't me she fancies, at least it's you…better than some prat of a Bulgarian. Besides, every time I got the nerve up to ask her, something always held me back. Just isn't meant to be, I'd wager.”

“But, you should be mad at me; you've fancied Hermione since fourth year, haven't you?” Harry pointedly asked.

Ron just shrugged. “I'm more mature now.”

Harry cocked his head at that statement. “You're more mature now?”

His friend nodded, but his eyes slipped away from Harry's gaze, which made Harry suspicious enough to ask. “So, when did you get all mature then? Because you weren't as of a few days ago.”

Ron scowled at that and fidgeted before muttering almost incoherently. “I'm learning…not a teaspoon any more…besides g'out to Hogsmeade wi'Luna.”

“You're what?”

“I asked Luna to go to Hogsmeade with me,” Ron said. “Tomorrow.”

“You have a date with Luna tomorrow?” Harry blinked in confusion. “When did you two start dating?”

“I asked her today when her housemates were being mean to her; making fun of her never having a date. They were hurting her feelings.”

Harry's eyebrows lifted at that. “How can you tell with Luna?”

Ron scowled even more darkly at that. “She wasn't as…as…sparkly.”

“Sparkly?” Harry parroted.

“Hey, this isn't about me,” Ron pushed to his feet. “I'm not the one who's swooning over our best friend and possibly jeopardizing our academic futures.” The last bit was a pretty accurate mimicking on Hermione's bossy tones.

Harry recognized his defensiveness. “Have you told Hermione that you're going with Luna yet? She's kinda expecting that it'll be the three of us as usual tomorrow.”

“What do you think I am? Mental?” Ron snorted. “You know Hermione.”

“You should tell her, Ron,” Harry stood and faced his tall friend squarely. “It's the right thing to do, and you know it will only cause bad feelings if you don't.”

Ron nodded reluctantly. “I'll tell her at breakfast. Then it's your job to keep our resident bookworm busy,” he finished with a smile and waggle of the eyebrows.

Harry watched as his friend headed back to his bed, and wondered when the idea of “keeping Hermione busy” had taken on such appeal.

Ron had kept his word and told Hermione that he and Luna were going together to Hogsmeade over breakfast. Harry felt a nice boost to his ego that Hermione was more preoccupied with him and their “situation” as she phrased it and acknowledged Ron's apparent defection with a distracted “oh, that's nice.”

They reached Filch and were dutifully checked off his list, though Harry was treated to a sullen glare and sniff before they were let through the door outside. The black carriages lined the courtyard ready for passengers, as the weather was impending with heavy clouds and the occasional rumble of distant thunder.

He helped Hermione into a carriage and then took the seat beside her. After a minute, the vehicle began to roll out of the courtyard without any other passengers. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed Ron waving broadly with a bright grin.

He doesn't need to worry about becoming a rogue Bludger sometime, Harry thought exasperated, I'll introduce him to a rogue bat by tonight.

-->

Authors Note: Well, as with all things, this story is coming to its end (sometimes I tell myself its been none to soon to get to it!). There will be a short epilogue, but this is the last chapter. I hope its what you have all been waiting for.

As always, This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Any characters or situations that are unknown in the HP series are the author's intellectual property and should not be used without permission.

Chapter 11 - Turn and Turn Again

Harry could feel Hermione's gaze on him as they sat in a rear booth of the Three Broomsticks waiting on Ron and Luna to join them for lunch. He nonchalantly turned another page and caught her chewing her bottom lip and fidgeting from the corner of his eye. Hermione was struggling to glimpse the title of the book that he'd picked up in the local bookstore, but Harry kept the cover flush with the tabletop for the most part just to keep her guessing.

Since Harry was not one to often purchase a book or read one willingly in her presence that did not deal with Quidditch, he suspected Hermione's curiosity was building to a fever pitch to know what he was reading. He had never dreamed that this type of gentle teasing of her would be so much fun.

Glancing towards the door, Harry saw Ron and Luna were still nowhere insight. Hermione dove back to her own book as he turned back. Harry hid his smirk as he went back to his page.

The amount of interest the book held for him was a bit strange, but the concepts for the practice of meditation to clear one's mind were fascinating. Harry could see applications that could be made from it for mastering Occulumency, but more importantly, it could be Hermione's last chance at completing a vision quest successfully.

The ancient clock on Madame Rosemerta's mantle gave a loud asthmatic wheeze followed by a feeble announcement of the hour. Ron pushed open the door just then and ushered Luna through, then stood aside as several other students piled in after her. Harry smothered a laugh at his disgruntled expression as Ron found himself holding the door for several more students who took advantage of his politeness without so much as a by your leave. Luna stepped to the side and waited patiently for her escort to free himself from door duty.

“Oi, enough already!” Ron snapped as another group of people tried to duck in. Being Third Years, they sprang back in some alarm rather than taking the advantage of forward momentum and making good their entrance. Ron simply grunted in approval and let the door swing shut.

Harry leaned to the side to watch the chastened quartet of Third years creep through the door with wary glances at his red-haired friend, who had spotted his friends at the back table and was leading Luna to them. He gave a small wave of greeting to Luna, who returned it before sliding into the booth next to Hermione.

“So, how was the bookstore?” Ron smirked. Luna slid over to let him sit beside her and Hermione slid further along the bench to allow them room.

“Enlightening,” Harry shot back cheekily.

Ron looked askance at that, and then narrowed his eyes. “Don't let her rub off on you, mate. Next thing you know, you'll be studying during Quidditch practice just to keep up with her.”

Hermione's face darkened. “Oh, you really are too much, Ronald! Paying more attention to your classes would benefit you more than you realize.” She sat back huffily, then grabbed Harry's book from his hand.

Harry watched her face intently as she ran her finger over the title of the book. Her glance was surprised as she questioned. “Zen Meditation for Beginners?” It was obvious to the both of them that the book was Muggle in origin. Ron just cocked his head with a blank look.

Luna looked up from her purchases. “Zen Meditation? Well, that would be a benefit for you, Harry, given your need to practice Occulumency and your developing Animagus skills. Very centering,” She finished with a nod and misty smile.

Ron looked a bit defensive as Luna first spoke, but on not hearing anything that would be construed as mad or strange from Luna, shrugged in acceptance and waved for one of Rosemerta's wait staff.

Harry watched a thoughtful look cross Hermione's face. He wondered if Ron would take it amiss if he reached over and hugged the blonde Ravenclaw for her impeccable comment and timing.

An older witch with a passion for purple, given most everything she wore from head to toe was of one or another shade of the color, bustled up to the table in response to Ron's signal. “What's your fancy today then?”

Hermione handed the book back to Harry a bit reluctantly while Ron ordered a round of butterbeer and shepherd's pie for them all. Harry stifled a sigh and hoped that Sirius' advice in the journal would be enough to help Hermione.

###

After lunch, the quartet visited Honeydukes first, and then Ron pulled Harry along with him into Zonko's while Luna and Hermione waited outside and chatted.

“Well, you haven't run away screaming yet,” Ron said lowly as he glanced over the offering of Dung Bombs and other assorted pranks in the corner. “So, how goes it?”

Harry cocked his head at that. Why was he asking about this? “You make it sound like it would be torture to be alone with Hermione, Ron; it's been fine so far,” He watched his friend make several selections with some concern. Was Ron really alright with him going out with Hermione?

“So, Ron, how is Luna then?” Harry asked.

“Not bad,” Ron muttered and ducked down the next aisle.

Sensing his friend's discomfort, Harry pursued him. “No crumpled-horned snorkack sightings then?”

Ron ignored that sally, but tips of his ears flushed; he quickly grabbed a pouch of dung bombs and headed to the counter. Harry gave up on the effort to take the mickey out of him. His volatile friend was being anything but at the moment. Harry suppressed a smirk as they headed back to where the unusual blonde sat outside with Hermione.

Hermione quickly stashed the meditation book back into his bag at her feet when she spotted the two boys coming down the steps. The motion was quick and discreet, but Harry wasn't a seeker for Gryffindor for nothing. The effort to keep his face straight became harder.

He extended his hand to help Hermione to her feet. “What's next on the agenda?”

“Quills and parchment,” she responded. “We spent more time in the book store than I intended to earlier.”

“Wait a moment, it's still Saturday, right? Then how could you have spent more time than…?” Ron trailed off with a teasing grin.

Hermione shot him a dirty look and Harry moved quickly to intercede before any verbal bloodshed ensued. “I need a few quills as well,” he said. “Let's head off then.”

The quartet split up into pairs and headed in different directions. Hermione sniffed once, still piqued by Ron's joke and lead the way to the store until Harry caught up her hand and pulled her back to walk beside him. She looked a touch surprised at his action at first then she blushed, but did not pull her hand away. Harry felt oddly triumphant at her acceptance though he still felt very awkward with these dating gestures that others used with such ease.

Before they reached the store's open doorway, Hermione stopped and looked up at him with questioning eyes. Harry smiled a little self-consciously under the scrutiny. He wasn't quite sure what she was about, but he did notice she hadn't let go of his hand yet.

“Really me?” she asked hesitantly.

Harry cocked his head in question. “Yes, really you. Why would you ask something like that?”

“Of course,” she closed her eyes, her voice barely audible. “What was I thinking? It's you, for Merlin's sake.”

“Hey, what do you mean by that?” Harry steamed.

Hermione's eyes popped open, surprised, before she smiled. “I meant that you wouldn't play with a girl's feelings like other boys; because that's not who you are, Harry.”

“Play with a girl's feelings? Why would anyone want…,” Harry puzzled, then blanched. “I wouldn't do that to you, Hermione, not ever.”

She smiled, and with a sudden burst of enthusiasm, pulled Harry into the shop. But her fear still disturbed his thoughts as he followed. How could he explain his interest in her and make her believe when he could not rightly figure it out how say it aloud?

###

Later that evening, Harry was sprawled in the Common Room's couch finishing the meditation book. He had tried applying some of the techniques earlier and had some success with them. Granted, Malfoy and his cronies were definitely the definition of high stress and distraction once they realized that Harry and Hermione were a couple at Hogsmeade, but the calming mantra to release the thoughts and anger had assisted with holding his temper down. He found that the jaguar's senses also reacted, recalling the sensation of being relaxed and drowsy.

But Malfoy had honed his repertoire of insults and epithets to a knife's edge with respect to Harry, and as always, the insults to Hermione shattered the calmness that Harry had created within. If it hadn't been for Hermione's hand gripping his, Harry might have shifted and dealt with the nasty boy.

Timing and Hermione had saved him from himself at the end.

It was too bad for Malfoy really that he hadn't waited to be sure there were only students about who would possibly overhear him. Harry chuckled as he recalled McGonagall's outraged expression just before Malfoy got his comeuppance.

Two weeks detention with Filch was rather harsh, but then Filch took great enjoyment at lending out the Slytherins to Hagrid for the entirety of the detention period, much to their dismay.

The portrait hole opened and Hermione crawled through the passage into the Common Room. Harry glanced up at the clock which read fifteen minutes to midnight; Hermione's last patrol was done for the night.

“Harry, what are you doing still up?” she queried softly as she sat down next to him.

“Was waiting for you,” Harry answered.

Hermione blinked owlishly. “For me?”

Harry was starting to suspect that he might be a bit more knowledgeable about this relationship stuff than Hermione. “Yes, for you,” he said with a grin. “I know it's usually the other way around, but go with it, eh?”

Cheeks pink, she looked down at her folded hands and silence fell between them that pulled uncomfortably.

Grasping for anything to dispel the distance, Harry held up the book for her attention.

“Want to read it? I just finished it.”

Hermione picked the book up. “You've read the whole thing already?”

“Yeah, it's not bad, and the techniques are pretty simple, even for someone as dense as me,” Harry quipped.

“You're not dense, Harry,” Hermione assured him, paging idly through the book.

Taking a gamble, Harry reached over and took her hand in his. “Read the book and let's try the vision quest for you one last time, ok?”

Hermione's head shot up from her perusal of the cover, her eyes filled with fear and something else that made Harry's gut clench painfully, but he refused to look away. It was important that she know he would do everything he could to help her.

Hermione's eyes filled and a single tear fell to her cheek. “What if I can't do it?”

“We'll worry about that if it happens,” he answered, brushing the tear away. “It doesn't change the fact that I'll…we'll… still need you, you know.”

Hermione turned her face away and tried to pull free of his grasp. “I'll still be a liability,” she spat.

“What's the real problem here, Hermione,” Harry pulled her forcefully around to face him. “Is it just becoming an Animagus is that important to you, or is it something else?”

Her eyes flashed at his question. “How dare you? Of course becoming an Animagus is important…it's an amazing accomplishment…what are you trying to say? That…that I don't know my own mind?”

“You tell me; you're actually close to failing a class for the first time in your life I would wager,” Harry's eyebrow lifted in question and Hermione's mouth, open to rebut his observation, snapped shut and she slumped back against the back of the couch.

The crackling of the dying fire was the only sound for several minutes. Harry began to worry that he'd just queered their fledgling relationship. He should have just kept his mouth shut.

“I don't want…I can't…fail at this,” she finally whispered.

Harry hesitated. Should he pursue or just let be? Hermione was hurt over this and he didn't want to make it worse. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but finally decided to go with his gut response.

Harry slid over closer and matched her slumped position on the couch so that their sides touched and simply gazed at her. After a moment, she relaxed and placed her head against his shoulder. The simple gesture reassured him more than any words could do, and he let his head lean down over hers.

“Can we try tomorrow night?” she ventured softly.

“Tomorrow night it is,” Harry answered. “Room of Requirement should be perfect for it.”

###

As with all great plans, their design to quietly work on Hermione's vision quest did not survive contact with the enemy, or in this case, their friends.

Harry simply told Ron that he and Hermione would be off working on the quest that evening and not to expect them in the Common Room. Of course, Ron promptly invited Luna to come to the Gryffindor Common Room to help him study, which lead to Ginny learning that Harry and Hermione would be working on the latter's vision quest. Exactly how Neville learned of the activity was still a mystery however.

Unable to stem the flood of “helpful” advice from the four of them, Harry waited as patiently as he could before finally resorted to pulling Hermione behind him and out the portrait hole.

They set up the Room in a very simple style and proceeded to work through the instructions given in the text methodically.

Harry began to suspect the problem came from the methodical aspect. Hermione did everything described in as perfect a manner as could be done, rather than relaxing her, the effort was ratcheting up her tension even higher.

She was trying to follow the advice of their friends and the text at the same time, and he couldn't even imagine how to do that himself without going completely barmy, since it was often contradictory.

Needless to say, the first two hours were extremely unproductive.

Hermione had taken to sniping at him, but Harry knew it was just frustration. What he didn't know was how to help her get around it. She didn't want to accept help or any further advice, and he was carefully biting back any impulses to offer any. It was difficult for him, as her comments and his own sense of lacking made the situation more and more painful for Harry.

Finally, he was jerked back out of his partial meditation state when Hermione spoke.

“It's getting late. Let's call it an evening, shall we?” Her voice had a muffled quality to it.

Harry closed his eyes in despair. He was failing to help Hermione, and he was at a loss to think of what else he might do.

Hermione stood up, picked up the book and slowly headed toward her bookbag in the corner.

Harry racked his brain for something, anything; she could do this, he was sure of it in his bones. Hermione's back was hunched, her movements slow and shaky. She was giving up.

Then, inspiration struck for Harry. “Hermione, I'm having some trouble relaxing into my normal focus. What are you using as a calming visualization?”

She was reluctant to respond, but Harry knew his girlfriend well enough. Hermione was passionate about learning, and equally driven to help those she felt were in need of her academic knowledge. Shamelessly, Harry was appealing to both these personality aspects to draw her back into their effort.

“I visualize a calm lake, mirror-like,” Hermione said softly, pausing momentarily in her rearrangement of the bag's contents.

“Hmm, I usually see a jungle,” Harry cocked his head as if considering the merit of her image.

“The image is personal,” She pointed out as she returned to her pillow with the bag and perched beside him. “It should correspond to the inner self of the person.”

“So, why the lake then?” Hermione looked taken aback by his question.

“I consider it to be a very good image for stillness.”

“But, is it truly the image that you find in your inner self?” Harry turned to her. “It's not what I would think would be in you.”

“What do you mean by that?” Hermione's cheeks flushed a bit and her eyes narrowed.

“A lake may be alright for some people, but I don't think it's right for you. You are more…erm, active than that; more passionate, let's say.”

Hermione inhaled sharply and just as she would have flown into him, Harry interrupted.

“You aren't still waters, Hermione. Don't cage yourself to preconceived notions of what would be better theoretically. Let go of everything else and find yourself inside.”

She pursed her lips, vexed for a moment, before she gave in with a poor grace. “Very well, I'll try once more, but don't think I don't know what you're trying to do, Harry.”

He suspected that he couldn't keep a good look of innocence in the wake of his success, so he just settled into a comfortable seated position and closed his eyes. The stillness of the room settled over him like a warm blanket, and with a deep breath, he let go of his thoughts and the tensions of the day.

The jungle appeared, misty and green all around him, distant bird calls and cries of other animals in the forest canopy sounding all around him. He found it somewhat surprising to notice he kept to his natural form in this visualization, rather than shift to the jaguar.

How much time passed, Harry was unaware, but when he surfaced from his introspection, Hermione was lying beside him, her head resting on the pillow and her breathing was slow and deep. Not wanting to disturb her, Harry shifted only enough to relieve the worst of the cramp from his legs and stayed silent, watching her peaceful expression.

Suddenly her eyelids showed rapid eye movement and her hands clenched tightly as she gasped. Harry leaned forward, thinking to wake her at first before remembering the warnings in the textbooks about prematurely terminating the vision quest.

Hermione's eyes snapped open and her hands flexed as a strip of what appeared to be tawny fur rippled across the back of them. She sat up and stared in wonder as the manifestation faded back into her normal skin.

Harry waited impatiently for her to say what had happened, but Hermione seemed transfixed by her experience.

“So?” he queried anxiously.

Her head shot up at his voice and with a sudden lunge, she hugged him tightly and buried her face against his shoulder. Harry could feel silent sobs running through her and shut his eyes in defeat, assuming the worse even though he had seen the change manifest. It was clear to him that Hermione was unhappy, given her response.

With a deep breath, Harry blamed himself. “I shouldn't have pushed this on you, Hermione…please, don't cry.”

Her hold on his shoulders tightened and she raised her tear-stained face to smile at him. Confused, Harry leaned back to question her with his eyes.

“I did it,” she said softly. “I couldn't have without your help, Harry.”

“I didn't really do very much at all,” he muttered.

“Yes, you did,” she whispered. “You believed in me.”

Harry smiled and shook his head. “I haven't always believed, Hermione, but you're one of my best friends and despite everything, I trust you.”

She sat up and reached out to touch his cheek. Harry froze at the intimate gesture as she stroked up to ruffle his hair. He liked how the touch made his insides warm, but was afraid to move and scare her off.

Heavy footfalls sounded from the corridor, heading past the hidden door of the Room of Requirement, waking both to the passage of time. Harry gathered his book bag and extracted the invisibility cloak as Hermione cleared the pillows and hefted her own bag over her shoulder.

As they waited by the door for Filch's footsteps to fade, Hermione laid her hand on Harry's arm, and lifted onto tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Harry, thinking she wanted his attention, was turning his head at that moment and their lips brushed softly before both pulled away to gaze worriedly at each other.

They now stood at a crossroads in their relationship. Harry could see the questions that were racing through his mind reflected in her eyes. Did they dare to cross this threshold? Nothing would ever be the same if they did, but what else could come of their relationship if they did nothing?

In the end, the decision to act was mutual.

Harry had only the comparison of the kiss with Cho, and this was much better than that one, yards better, even though Hermione had also been crying. Her lips were softer than Cho's had been, and though both of them were hesitant, it was much more pleasurable.

Hermione pulled away first, and placed her finger across his lips. Harry was sure his expression resembled a surprised owl as he blinked dazedly.

“Filch is past,” she said, pointing to the door. “We should get back to the tower so I can do the last round for the evening.”

Harry made to slip on the cloak, but Hermione took his hand and shook her head.

“You're with me, Mister Potter,” She hauled him through the door as he haphazardly stuffed the silky cloak into the bag with his free hand. Clearly, she was going to use the power of her Prefect position if they were questioned about his presence after curfew.

They had ascended one flight of stairs in companiable silence before Harry remembered to ask about what had appeared as her form in the vision quest.

Hermione began to chatter quite happily about something feline, and a strange locale she couldn't be sure was located. “…something rather dry with lots of brush, Africa perhaps, or maybe India…,” she frowned slightly, displeased with not knowing precisely.

They reached the Fat Lady and Harry gave the password, stepping aside to let Hermione enter first. The common room was almost deserted, with only a couple of students still up studying.

Hermione glanced at the clock and dumped her book bag precipitously on the table. “I have to hurry or I'll be late for last round. Padma was kind enough to cover the earlier ones for me.”

“You know where to find me when you're done,” Harry flopped down on the sofa and swung his feet up.

Hermione nodded and headed off back to the portrait hole. Harry heard the portrait swing open and leaned his head back on the arm of the couch more comfortably, eyes closed, ready to catch a short nap.

He heard the last two Gryffindors piling their books together and heading up the stairs, before he was taken unawares by the sudden shadow swooping down over him and kissing him deeply.

Shocked, his eyes flew open as Hermione broke the kiss with a knowing smile. “Didn't want you to think I don't appreciate you waiting for me.”

“I think I could be convinced of that with a bit more appreciation,” he answered with a grin.

She shook her head playfully and Harry's eyes were glued to her as she dashed back out the portrait hole.

For once, Harry felt that he was worthy of the happiness he was experiencing. He stretched back out on the couch with a victorious grin.

Crookshanks stalked past the couch with a condescending look at its inhabitant and headed toward the dormitory stairs. Harry gave a laugh when the cat shot him a disapproving look over his shoulder and lashed his tail in agitation.

“Jealous, huh?” Harry growled in amusement.

Crookshanks hissed in anger and bounded up the stairs and out of sight.

-->

Author’s Note: Well, this is it, folks. This is the last chapter of More than Human, which started out mainly to address a lot of poorly done clichés in HP fan fiction regarding Animagus plotlines. I hope that you have all enjoyed the story as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it.

On a late day in May, Harry dozed under the warm spring sunlight not far from the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He was not the only student taking advantage of the nice turn of the weather after the bitter cold winter. Most of the student body of Hogwarts was out of doors on this day.

Some of the lower years were engaging in a pick-up game of Quidditch while others congregated in small groups and socialized. The next day was Saturday, and it was a Hogsmeade weekend as well, so spring fever was running rampant.

More studious students, mainly fifth and seventh years, were also out on the expansive lawns and while still studying, many had discarded their robes in favor of lighter attire.

Harry smiled as he tracked the movements of his fellow students without opening his eyes once. The jaguars’ acute hearing could be dead useful at times; especially when he was being stalked or about to be pranked. Seamus had taken it upon himself to try and catch Harry out several times, but to no avail. His other dorm mates had simply chalked it up as a bad job and moved onto other targets while the Irish wizard considered it a challenge to get Harry.

Right now, Seamus was 0 for 5 attempts, but there were still a few weeks of school left to go. After the last go round with the never-stop sneezing powder that Harry had managed to not only avoid, but to use to prank the blond Gryffindor back, it had become a matter of pride.

A faint rustling of the new leaves in the trees accompanied the gentle breeze that passed over his form. Not unusual, except for the few seconds more of rustle than there should have been. Something else other than the wind was out there.

Harry rolled over from his back to his stomach and settled his head comfortably along his forearms. His stalker’s movements ceased abruptly. He kept his body still, but was ready to move on the instant.

Suddenly a sharp whistling cry followed by a sharp snagging pull to the back of Harry’s head distracted from the hidden stalker behind him.

With a loud snarl, Harry raised his head and locked eyes on his tormentor, who was just winging back toward him with a mocking shrill as he began to stoop. Harry avoided the attack by jumping backwards toward the trunk of the large tree. His avian tormentor had to navigate more cautiously with his move and pulled up short on its attack.

The bird’s dark grey plumage and sharp white bars blurred with the speed of his flight. Harry knew his reflexes were no match against his tormentor’s speed, and so pulled back further under the cover of the tree. Ron was a right pest when he was showing off, he mused sourly.

The falcon disappeared from his view and Harry crouched defensively, searching for his quick winged friend. At the rate he was going, it felt like there would be a bald patch at the back of Harry’s head. The sting of plucked hairs added to Harry’s annoyance.

After a few seconds, Harry spotted his friend heading toward him from his right side and scrambled to place the tree trunk between them, which sent Ron back off out of sight again.

The small rustling that had caught his attention previously returned. Harry twitched an ear back as his hidden pursuer moved to his right. When he looked over his shoulder in that direction, the movement stopped.

The momentary distraction cost Harry. Ron buzzed him from behind and another sharp tug at the back of Harry’s head caused him to snarl and shake to reduce the sting.

With a triumphant cry, Ron reduced speed to loop around the tree trunk for a victory lap before heading back off with Harry glaring daggers behind him.

Of course, the position also gave Harry a vantage to see what happened next.

Ron winged out of the clearing into the thicker woods, lowering his flight path to clear some overhead branches. The heavy undergrowth exploded upward and the peregrine falcon disappeared into the green maelstrom. A sudden sharp cry from the falcon was cut off abruptly.

Harry rocked to his feet and cocked his head, wondering if Ron was truly in trouble. The bushes vibrated and a tawny cat the size of a large dog strutted proudly into view with the annoying falcon caught in its jaws.

Harry stretched luxuriously before lying back down. The tips of the newcomer’s dark ears were distinctive with long brown tufts of fur, and the golden eyes danced with more than mere pleasure at the catch. The feline’s limbs were long and powerful for her compact size.

Of course, the care with which the smaller cat secured the now-struggling falcon was also telling.

The falcon was beginning to shrill louder. The caracal approached the larger Jaguar and without ceremony, spit the bird out at the larger cat’s front paws and circled to flop down against him.

Harry, with great deliberation and more than a slight feeling of vindictive joy, placed a heavy paw on the struggling bird.

The bird shifted rapidly to Ron’s normal lanky form. He brushed at the front of his jumper in no little disgust as Harry removed his paw.

“Yuck, Hermione!” he spat, rubbing his palms against his jeans after giving up on his damp jumper. “Now, I’m covered in cat spit!”

Harry had to shift form then as well or explode from contained laughter. Ron scowled at his merriment which did not lessen his friend’s amusement one bit.

The caracal chirped once and then shifted into Hermione. Harry could tell from her face that she was just too proud of herself for having caught Ron right out of flight. She leaned back against Harry’s side and giggled.

“That was a remarkable catch, Hermione,” Luna’s dreamy tones preceded her appearance around the bole of the tree.

“Thanks, Luna,” Hermione smiled and accepted the book bag that the blond Ravenclaw held out to her. “Thanks for bringing my books along for me.”

Ron put his hands on his hips in outrage. “You helped her?”

Luna raised an eyebrow and blinked once. “Of course, you weren’t doing anything to provoke her, Ron?” she questioned.

“Of course not, Harry and I were just messing around,” he answered in a suffering tone.

“And the fact that Harry may be getting a bald patch at the back of his head has nothing to do with you, then, Ron?” Hermione snapped.

Harry sat up and shifted to place his back against the tree. Hermione plucked a book from the bag and settled against his shoulder where Harry obligingly made room. Ron getting in trouble from both girls might just be entertaining. His red-haired friend shot him a beseeching look but Harry had no intention of interfering at this point.

The arrival of Neville and Ginny with a levitating basket between them saved Ron doubly by distracting the girls from their lecturing and addressing their missing of lunch in the Great Hall. The group happily transfigured cloaks or other paraphernalia into blankets and silverware before digging into the feast that Dobby and the other elves had provided for them.

When they exhausted the meal and flopped back down on the blankets, Harry looked up at the soft clouds that drifted across the sky with his oldest friend on one side and his second oldest friend, now girlfriend on the other, and knew in that one singular moment that he was happy to the very core of his soul. He closed his eyes and basked.

The sunlight poured down warmly, but not as warm as he felt inside. For whatever else might come, Harry would keep this moment within him and knew no coldness could ever intrude.

A soft hand caressed his cheek and Harry opened his eyes to see Hermione’s gentle smile and amused eyes.

“What is it?” He questioned.

“You were purring again,” she said, and dipped down to kiss him lightly.

She settled herself back against his side with her head on his shoulder. Harry glanced over to see the others had also taken the opportunity to grab a nap as well.

Harry leaned his head down over Hermione’s with a sigh and let the world take care of itself for the moment and purred.

Fin