Chapter 4
Harry had never enjoyed Halloween. When he'd found out that it was the day his parents died, he'd liked it even less.
For a moment he wondered why Hermione was not at the feast. She'd said that she'd planned on studying in the library for a bit before coming down to the feast. He'd already threatened to literally throw her over his shoulder and carry her out of the library if she didn't show.
Draco strutted in, a smirk upon his face, his two goons following him. Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode followed closely. All five looked very happy.
Harry's eyes narrowed. Something must have happened to make Malfoy so happy. Perhaps he'd gotten into another fight with the youngest Weasley.
He looked at Blaise, who shrugged. Obviously he had no idea either.
"Harry?"
He turned to look up at Neville. He'd heard his approach, but he'd decided to wait for Neville to make the first move. "Yeah?"
"Lavender just said that Hermione is in the fourth floor girl's room, crying," Neville explained quickly. "Something about Malfoy."
"Thanks," said Harry. "Blaise?"
"We can deal with Malfoy later," said Blaise. "Let's go."
It took several minutes for Harry and Blaise to reach the bathroom. Ignoring the fact that it was a girl's toilet, Harry walked inside, Blaise close behind.
"Hermione?" called out Harry, trying not to think about the salty smell of her tears or the soft sound of her crying. Whoever caused this would pay.
"I-Harry," said Hermione.
"And Blaise," said the bear shapeshifter.
"Did somebody hurt you?" asked Harry, approaching Hermione carefully.
She sniffled again, not bothering to move from her place next to the sinks. Blaise held up a hand, distracting both Harry and Hermione.
"Did you hear that/" he asked.
Harry tilted his head to the side, listening. At the sound of amazingly heavy footsteps, he paled.
"What the hell?" demanded Harry, pulling Hermione up by her arm. "Let's get back to the dorm."
Blaise nodded his agreement.
Still in tears, Hermione asked, "What's wrong?"
"Something's coming," explained Blaise as they left the bathroom.
"Shit!" hissed Harry, looking at the end of the hall.
Somehow a very large mountain troll had managed to get into the school. Luckily it didn't seem to be looking their way. Harry motioned for Blaise to follow him as he dragged a stunned Hermione to one of the school's many secret passages. He pushed Hermione through, keeping a careful eye on the troll.
"We can't just leave it here," whispered Hermione, finally regaining her wits. "It could kill somebody."
Harry looked at Hermione, then at the troll. He sighed. "Blaise, take Hermione back to the dorm, I'll handle the troll."
"Good luck," said Blaise.
Before Hermione could protest, Blaise had begun to lead her down the passageway. Once he was sure they were gone, Harry closed the passage and began to walk toward the troll. He trusted Blaise to keep Hermione safe until he got back.
**
"A mountain troll?" said the vampire. "The little leopard killed a mountain troll because Hermione asked him to?"
"Yes, Master," said the elf. "Mistress Hermione was frightened that it would kill somebody."
"And the bear?"
"The kitty sent the bear to protect Mistress Hermione while he killed the nasty troll."
The vampire said nothing, thinking on this new information. His respect for the little wereleopard had grown. Some careful questioning had revealed that the packs in London and Surrey left the leopard alone mainly because he'd killed most that had challenged him, leaving only his female challengers alive.
The leopard was becoming quite dangerous. And he had put Hermione under his protection. This was both a good and a bad thing. At least for Hermione.
She'd be protected from most of the dangerous preternatural creatures. But the leopard had drawn her into the shapeshifter underworld. Then again, the girl was studying to become an animagus. She would have been drawn into that world no matter what. At least this way she had a moderately powerful alpha to protect her.
**
Nobody was sure what had killed the mountain troll. Something had ripped it limb from limb, leaving the body in a bloody mess on the fourth floor. The school talked about it for days afterward, terrified that some beast would kill them in their sleep.
Once again, Blaise was rather happy he'd decided not to argue with Harry's dominance. What Potter could do, despite being only a little above the midrange of lycanthrope power was amazing-and terrifying.
Hermione still hadn't revealed what Malfoy had said to her, but had managed to confirm that Malfoy and his little gang had caused her tears. Nobody in Slytherin had been particularly surprised when Malfoy had needed to have several of his bones regrown, nor had they been surprised by the amount of time the rest of his cronies had spent in the Hospital Wing. Slytherin power struggles were often very violent.
Thought they hadn't been at Hogwarts long, all the Slytherins knew that Harry could be deadly when annoyed. When pissed off… he was the things nightmares were made of. And nothing pissed Harry off faster than somebody who threatened Hermione.
**
Harry studied his plans, a piece of beef jerky hanging out of his mouth. He was in a quiet corner of the common room playing poker with Blaise, Theo, Daphne, and Tracey. Hermione sat between Harry and Tracey, writing something. Crookshanks sat on Hermione's lap, purring loudly.
"What are you doing?" asked Daphne.
"Are you familiar with labor unions?" asked Hermione.
"Huh?" Everybody but Harry gave her a blank look.
"Don't worry," said Hermione. "By the time I'm done, the Wizarding world will be very familiar with labor unions."
After several long, uncomfortable moments, Theo asked Harry, "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"Depends on if you're the employer or the employee," said Harry. "I'll let Hermione explain the concept."
**
Harry fought the urge to back away slowly. Hermione was standing over a bubbling cauldron, a serious look on her face. She got that look whenever she went on some sort of intellectual rant or holed herself up someplace with a good book for hours on end.
"Should I ask or should I go back to the common room?" asked Harry.
"I just finished the animagus potion," explained Hermione. "Just let me bottle it."
**
"Wait, so what do you need to do?" asked Blaise. "For the animagus transformation, I mean."
"It's quite simple," said Hermione. "On the night of the new moon-that's tonight, I drink the potion, say a spell, drink two other potions I've already prepared, and hopefully I'll transform."
"And if you don't transform?" asked Harry.
Hermione shrugged. "I'll be dead. But don't worry. That only happens in one out of every six attempts."
"So even if you do something wrong, you'll probably transform?" said Blaise.
"Oh, no. One out of every six is if you do everything correctly," explained Hermione. "One out of every twenty-three survive if a mistake is made."
"Of course," muttered Harry. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, Harry. I'm very sure that I want to be an animagus. I'm also very sure that I've done everything correctly," snapped Hermione. "Nothing you can say or do will stop me from doing this tonight."
"I'm not going to try to stop you," said Harry. "I just wanted to make sure that you were ready to do this. So, where do you want to do this?"
"We can't do this in the castle. This is the sort of this the House-Elves would report to the Headmaster," said Blaise.
Hermione shrugged. "The forrest?"
**
It had been exceedingly easy to sneak into the Forbidden Forrest, but then again, it generally was. While Harry drew a circle of protection that woul ensure that nothing entered their clearing while Hermione attempted the transformation (and keep Hermione from running off, just in case her animal form was as difficult to control as it was for a lycanthrope the first couple of transformations), Blaise kept watch and Hermione set up what she needed.
"Right," said Hermione. "Stand outside of the circle I've drawn."
Blaise nodded and backed up, careful not to wreck any of the symbols Hermione had drawn in the dirt. She stood in the center of a circle with strange, runic symbols running around it. There were five candles, each a different color.
Hermione knelt down, three vials of potion in front of her. She closed her eyes, then used her magic to light the candles wandlessly. She downed the first potion, then began to chant in an unfamiliar language.
As she chanted the lines in the dirt started to glow white. Harry could feel the very air around him crackle with power. She then downed the last two potions.
Harry watched with a morbid sort of fascination. Nothing he could do now would stop what was about to happen. Either Hermione would die or she would become an animagus.
The bones under Hermione's skin began to move. She winced in pain, but said nothing. After what felt like forever, Hermione transformed.
Animagi were truly unique in the shapeshifter world. They had all the powers of a lycanthrope, but on a much smaller scale. Animagi could pass for a member of the same species as their animagus form, in size and coloring. They were not controlled by the moon, and they certainly avoided lycanthrope politic at all costs. Unlike all other forms of shapeshifter, animagi were highly respected as well. But the strangest thing-in Harry's opinion-was that animagi took their clothing with them when they transformed.
A small, red fox sat where Hermione had been. The fox was much smaller than Hermione, but that was just part of the transformation.
"Hermione? Do you understand me?" asked Harry. "Tap the ground once for no, twice for yes."
The fox gave him a look that told Harry quite clearly that he was being an idiot before tapping the ground twice with her front paw. Harry had to admit that Hermione made a very nice fox, with her soft brindle fur and bushy tail. Actually, her tail sort of reminded him of her hair.
**
"You cannot be serious."
"But it's tradition. Every Marauder needs a nickname. I put off picking ours until Hermione transformed, but now that she has, we need to pick names."
"Oh fine," muttered Blaise. "Mr. Beorn."
"From the Hobbit?" said Hermione. Blaise nodded. "I think Harry should be Mr. Pounce."
"Pounce? Why pounce?" said Harry.
"Remember how we first met?" said Hermione. "That's why."
"Then you should be Miss Reynard," said Harry.
"Wait-Reynard?" said Hermione. "Why didn't I think of that? If we're going to do anything involving Reynard, then Blaise should be Bruin and you should be Tibert. It all fits."
"Better than Mr. Pounce," said Harry. "Blaise?"
"Bruin is good."
"Right, so the new generation of Marauders is officially Mr. Tibert, Miss Reynard, and Mr. Bruin," announced Harry.
"So what are we going to do to announce our new names?" asked Hermione.
"A school wide prank the day before everybody leaves for Christmas," explained Harry. "Which reminds me, are you guys staying or leaving?"
"Staying," said Hermione.
"Leaving. Mother insists on taking me to Rome."
**
Roughly ten minutes before breakfast ended, people began to notice something odd. Their uniforms changed in unison.
Instead of wearing school robes, they now wore strange green outfits with shorts for boys and knee length skirts for the girls. Each had an apron on over their clothing and a floppy green hat atop their head. The girls with hair long enough (and Draco), now had their hair in two braids that were secured so that they formed loops.
The professors did not fare much better. For some reason Professor Dumbledore now wore what most Muggleborns recognized as a Santa Clause outfit with Professor McGonagal dressed as Mrs. Clause. The other Professors wore brown trousers and shirts along with the antlers growing out of their heads. Several students started to giggle when they saw the way Professor Snape's nose glowed bright red.
From some unseen source, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer began to play.
Above the teacher's table, words began to form in silver and gold. They read: A Bit of Christmas Cheer-Courtesy of the Marauders, Magical Mischief-Makers Extraordinaire, Wishing You a Very Merry Holiday Season, Miss Reynard, Mr. Bruin, and Mr. Tibert.
Despite various attempts, nobody was able to remove the various spells and enchantments. Anybody who tried to change with their clothing or hair was immediately given elf-ears on top of their enchanted outfit.
Christmas themed songs in various languages played throughout the day. By midnight, when the enchantments finally faded, many of the students were either singing along or ready to kill the Marauders. Snape had gone on an hour long rant during potions class. Dumbledore, however, seemed to find the entire thing quite entertaining and stopped Snape from giving out detentions.
**
Christmas came far too quickly. Hermione was the first to awake. She crawled out of bed to find a rather large pile of gifts that seemed to contain both Harry's gifts and her own. She put a dressing gown over her tartan nightgown and slipped on a pair of slippers before waking Harry.
"Harry," said Hermione. "Let's open the presents."
"Huh?" said Harry. "Oh. Get back on the bed, I'll bring your presents there."
"And yours," said Hermione.
"Uh, right."
Hermione was well aware that she and her family had been the first to give Harry anything resembling a present. She was still amazed that he'd given her Crookshanks without expecting anything in return.
Harry pushed aside the curtains, allowing them to receive a bit of dim light from the lake, lit the candles, then went to collect the presents. He set them out on the bed in front of Hermione before joining her on the bed once more.
They both received quite a bit of candy and chocolate from Theo, Daphne, Tracey, and Neville. Harry received a copy of The Art of War from Blaise while Hermione was given a rather large book on British Wizarding customs and related laws. Mr. and Mrs. Granger gave Harry a book on calculus (Harry was very fond of math), and Hermione a book called The Handmaid's Tale. Gertrude sent each a picture she'd drawn herself.
This left Harry with one present left and Hermione with two. As per usual. Every year Hermione, Gertrude, and their mother received a present from an unknown sender. Family legend had it that the mysterious presents were from a dead relative. All Harry had done, when he'd first been told this, was mutter about vampires while sniffing the packages under the Granger's Christmas tree. Hermione chose not to think to hard about who the mysterious gift giver was.
"I'll open my mystery gift, I suppose," said Hermione.
"You never did say how long this has been going on for," muttered Harry, looking a bit grumpy.
Hermione shrugged. "According to Grandma, her great-grandfather remembered the gifts being sent to his own grandparents. More than two hundred years, at least."
"And your family hasn't tried to figure out which vamp is send you gifts yet?"
"I suppose a vampire would make sense," shrugged Hermione. "He or she probably just wants to send gifts to family."
"Uh huh," Harry said sarcastically.
"Be quiet, you," said Hermione.
She opened the gift and pulled out a set of gold combs with several pearls set in the portion that would be visible when in her hair. A gold snood with a pearl at each chain intersection sat just bellow the combs. Under the snood was a long gold chain with a pearl strung on it once every four or five centimeters. There were a multitude of long hair pins with a pearl at bend of each. At the bottom of the package was a note.
Knowing that Harry didn't understand French, Hermione read the note aloud in English, "For your hair, granddaughter. These items are charmed to keep your hair safely coiffured in even the most trying of times. Merely tap the combs, hair pins, snood, or chain with your wand and they shall dress your hair in any style you choose."
"You're not really going to use those, are you?" said Harry.
"Whoever sends these things has never once sent anything that could hurt anybody in the family when used correctly," snapped Hermione. With that she tapped the chain with her wand, announcing, "Braided crown-twice around my head, chain wrapped around braids, leftover hair secured in braided bun at base of neck with chain."
Hermione could feel her hair braid itself as the chain wrapped around the braid, touching her skull where it secured the braid to her head. The chain then bound the last foot or so of her hair into a bun at the base of her neck.
One of the many disadvantages of having hair so long was that it was immensely difficult to do anything with it. Oh, she could pin her hair up each day, but it took time. The same with braiding her hair. Not to mention that when braided, her hair was several inches longer than when loose because the curls had been straightened out.
When wet, her hair went past her knees-halfway to her ankles. Luckily, it became curlier as it dried. Years ago, she'd been talking about cutting a foot or so off her hair when Harry had mentioned that he liked her hair long. Hermione hadn't done more than have her split ends cut off since. Not that she'd ever tell Harry that she kept her hair long for him.
"Here," said Hermione. "Open mine."
Harry unwrapped the gift. There were two rather books inside. One on offensive magic, the other on defensive magic.
"Thanks," said Harry, hugging her.
Hermione opened her last present, uncovering a wooden box with Celtic knots carved into it. She opened the box. A gold necklace made with a Byzantine chain. A gold and pearl pendant with complicated filigree designs was attached to the center of the chain.
Hermione's mouth opened and closed several times. "How-where-it's too much."
"No, it's not," said Harry, securing it around her neck. "It was in the family vault, it was mine, and I decided to give it to you. There were hundreds of necklaces in there."
"I think that's for you," said Hermione, motioning to one last package.
Harry sniffed it, said "Dumlbedore," then opened it.
**
Minerva watched as Mr. Potter escorted Miss Granger to the Slytherin table. Instead of their usual robes, both wore decidedly Muggle clothing. Mr. Potter wore trousers and a button up shirt while Miss Granger was dressed in a dark purple velvet dress. The dress was rather pretty, with it's white lace accents. But the length of the skirt, while acceptable in the Muggle world was practically indecent in the Wizarding world.
She comforted herself with the fact that the girl wore black stockings. For a Muggle, the outfit was rather modest. Not that most purebloods would consider it so.
She could see Severus turned a rather interesting shade of red at the sight of one of his Slytherins dressed in such a way. Perhaps she should explain Muggle fashion to him.
"Miss Granger," growled Severus. "Come here this instant."
Miss Granger shrugged at Mr. Potter before coming up to the high table. As she came closer, Minerva noticed the gold and pearls the girl wore. Either she had had a very good Christmas or she was dressing up in already owned objects for the holiday.
"Yes, Professor?" she said.
"What are you wearing?" demanded Severus.
"My Christmas gifts," said Miss Granger, touching first the chain in her hair then the necklace. "Aren't they lovely?"
"Not that," snapped Severus. "I was speaking of your completely inappropriate attire."
She looked down at her clothing then back up at Severus. "I thought we were allowed to wear our own clothing when outside of class."
"Where is the rest of your dress, Miss Granger?" Severus said slowly, as if speaking to somebody who was mentally impaired.
"This is all there is of my dress," explained Miss Granger. "I don't see why you would think there should be more to it. It's the height of fashion-in Muggle Paris, at any rate. Mum sent it to me. My family's in Paris for Christmas this year."
"Your legs are showing," Severus said, sounding rather angry.
"Severus," interrupted Minerva. "Muggles often wear much less than what Miss Granger is wearing right now. Miss Granger, why don't you go back to your seat? The feast should soon begin."
"Yes, Professor McGonagal."
**
Hermione was rather take with the hair accessories she had been given. As the months went by, she was almost constantly seen wearing one or more of the hair ornaments, always accompanied by the gold and pearl necklace.
Her fellow Slytherin females were quite jealous. And in Pansy and Millicent's case had demanded Hermione give the jewelry to them. Both girls had quickly seen the error of their ways when faced with an angry Harry.
Harry didn't quite get why the normally bookish Hermione liked jewelry so much, but had decided that it was a girl thing. He also didn't understand why Hermione was studying so hard for the finals they had left. She was the smartest witch in their year and she knew more about magic than most third years. That he passed off as a Hermione thing.
He was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of somebody banging on the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Noticing that nobody else was going to go see what was going on, Harry got up to answer the door.
An out of breath Neville stood in the doorway, looking seconds from passing out.
"Nev, what's wrong?" asked Harry.
Neville explained quickly, outlining what Ron Weasley, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnegan had been doing over the year from discovering that a three headed dog guarded the passage on the third floor to the trap door under the dog to their conclusion that Snape was planning on stealing the thing guarded by the dog. Apparently they had left an hour earlier to go find the object before Snape.
"Wait-Snape?" said Harry. "What kind of idiots are they? Theo, Daphers, Trace, look after Longbottom for me."
He pulled Neville into the room, pointing his wand at any who thought to protest.
"What's going on?" asked Theo.
"Some Gryffs are being foolhardy idiots," explained Harry. "Blaise, Hermione, you two can study later."
"What are you talking about?" demanded Hermione.
"We have stupid Gryffindors to rescue," explained Harry. "Come on."
**
Harry starred at the hellhound and the hellhound starred at Harry. Blaise and Hermione stood to the side, watching with mild amusement. At Harry's growl, the hellhound whimpered and backed up.
All three of them went through the trapdoor. Luckily, as shapeshifters they had better reflexes than normal humans and were much more durable. They landed on their feet in a pile of ash and burned vines.
Harry sniffed the air, eyes narrowing. He recognized the scent in the room, and obviously Blaise and Hermione had as well. While one of the professors was trying to steal the stone, it certainly wasn't Snape.
Harry broke the locked door with one kick in a fit of annoyance rather than deal with trying to catch an illusive flying key. In the next room they found an unconscious Ron and a crying Seamus along with a very large chess board.
"Hermione, get them out of here," ordered Harry. "Take the brooms in the room back there. Blaise and I will find Dean."
"W-What are you doing here?" demanded Seamus.
"Saving your sorry asses," muttered Blaise.
"Neville sent us," explained Hermione. "Now let's get out of here."
"But-"
"Go, before I loose my temper," Harry said, his voice monotone.
Harry and Blaise completely bypassed the chess board (it hadn't reformed from its last game yet). They found the body of a troll, and after that Dean Thomas. He seemed to be staring at a piece of paper intently.
"How stupid are you?" demanded Harry, ignoring the way the boy jumped.
"W-what are you doing here?"
"Neville sent us. He was worried you'd get yourselves killed," explained Blaise.
"Now come on, let's get you out of here."
"But the Sorcerer's Stone!"
"Hmm?" said Harry.
"Snape is trying to steal the Sorcerer's Stone!"
"Snape? Puh-lease," said Blaise.
"Give me that," said Harry, taking the paper from Dean's hands. He read it twice, studied the seven vials in front of him, then handed one to Blaise. "You and Dean drink this one. It will get you back through that fire. I'll go see if anybody's really trying to steal anything."
Blaise stared at Harry for a long moment before forcing some of the potion down an unwilling Dean's throat and taking some for himself. He put the vial back down, then dragged Dean through the fire.
Harry downed the proper potion and headed onwards. He had a feeling this wouldn't end well.
**
Harry groaned. Why couldn't he remember the license plate number of the bus that had hit him? Oh, wait-he'd foolishly taken on Voldemort. Crap. He should have been more intelligent than that.
Luckily the disembodied bastard hadn't gotten the Philosopher's Stone from him. For some reason-Harry still didn't know why, his skin had burned Quirrell's worse than silver burned a lycanthrope's. Then he'd blacked out.
He opened his eyes slowly. A white ceiling, the antiseptic smell. Shit. He was in the hospital wing.
"How long, Mr. Potter?" asked a soft, female voice Harry didn't quite recognize.
"Who are you?" demanded Harry.
"Madame Pomphrey, school Medi-Witch," said an older looking woman in an outfit rather similar to what women wore at the turn of the century. "How long ago were you infected?"
Harry paled. "W-who else knows?"
"Nobody, Mr. Potter. Patient-Healer privilege. Nobody, not even Dumbledore or the Minister of Magic himself can get that information from me," she said, everything about her sincere. "Before you ask, Mr. Zabini and Miss Granger stayed until visiting hours were over. Now, how long ago were you infected, and what strain?"
"Wereleopard, five years ago," Harry said dully. "What are you going to do?"
"Do you have a safe place you can go during the full moon?"
"Yes, both here and at home. Why?"
Madame Pomphrey sighed. "So long as you don't infect or injure another student, I shall do nothing. But please, if you need anything, come see me."
**
After a rather confusing conversation with Dumbledore, Harry had been released from the Hospital Wing. The remainder of the school year had passed without incident, and soon enough he was heading home.
Harry had to wonder what the Dursleys would do when he got back. He'd only left them a note saying that he was going to Hogwarts and would be back next summer. They likely wouldn't want him back in the house at all.
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