Unofficial Portkey Archive

a/n Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter - I have just been incredibly busy both at work and at home and simply haven't had the time to update. Unfortunately, I don't have a batch of chapters already "banked" - I post as I complete each chapter and sometimes life just gets in the way. The next update shouldn't take so long and the pace of the story itself is about to pick up.

While I'm writing this, I'll take the opportunity to thank everyone who has taken the time to review. All are appreciated.

BF

……………………………………………

Fenrir Greyback leaned to one side and carefully peered around the trees he was using as cover for this particular "mission." The target in question was an attractive little cottage in the Peak District and one that was home to a young magical family.

He preferred them young.

He'd been casing the cottage for most of the morning and had watched the young couple as they played with their two young children. It occurred to him that since the fall of the Dark Lord, people were becoming complacent and were letting their guard down. Greyback shook his head in amazement at the stupidity of some people. Didn't they realise there was more than one darkness in the world?

He'd been lying low since the battle at Hogwarts. He'd only just managed to escape with his life after being finally brought down by the Longbottom and Weasley boys; two who would pay for their insolence -the mudblood Granger would pay too. In the ensuing chaos following Potter's victory, he'd managed to slip out of the castle unnoticed and had been using these past few weeks to recover, lick his wounds and try and reform his pack after the massive casualties they'd suffered.

The waiting was over. Now it was time to remind everyone just how dangerous he was. He was actually pleased at the fall of the Dark Lord. While he would acknowledge that Voldemort provided him with plenty of fresh prey, he was aware that the Dark Lord had never accorded him any respect and viewed him even lower than mudbloods and muggles. He had only ever been a weapon to the Dark Lord and had never gained his respect.

This was all going to change. He was his own master now. The Dark Lord did leave one legacy, one that he would use to change their world. One he would use to gain their respect. Werewolves would soon be crawling to join his pack once they realised what he had in his possession.

The ability to control his lycanthropy and change at will.

Although he could have launched an attack at any point in the past 4 weeks, he'd decided to wait until the full moon. It wasn't just because he was more powerful at this time, it just felt right to him; that his return should be done properly. He'd learned from the Dark Lord that fear and power could often be enhanced by powerful symbols and announcing his return at the full moon was a powerful symbol. Tonight, the magical world would learn to fear again.

With that thought giving him comfort, he slid behind the trees again and continued his vigil. Stalking the prey was almost as much fun as devouring it. He licked his lips in anticipation.

Almost.

…………………………………………………

Hermione grimaced as Minerva proffered her a goblet that positively smouldered, emitting a faint blue smoke that did not auger well. This was the seventh time she'd gone through this little ritual having taken a dose on each of the preceding six days. She knew that the way one must imbibe Wolfsbane Potion was unique in that a goblet must be taken for each day of the week preceding the full moon. Unfortunately, her familiarity with the process did not make it any easier. Taking a deep breath, she pinched her nose between thumb and forefinger, tilted her head back, and poured the potion quickly down her throat in the vain hope that haste would lessen the appalling taste.

It didn't work this time either.

She sat absolutely still for a moment, stretching her arm to its fullest extent as if trying to get the goblet as far away from her as possible. Then her body convulsed in a shudder that she felt from the hairs on her head right down to the nails on her toes.

`Ugh! That is simply awful! Why does sugar stop it working properly?" she griped as she finally placed the empty goblet on to the headmistresses' desk.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Minerva smiled. `You should consider yourself fortunate! When I was younger, no such option existed for werewolves; at least you know that there is a very real benefit to taking the potion.'

`Should be a very real benefit, you mean. You are assuming this will work.'

Minerva's expression darkened at Hermione's observation. `Horace has done his best - I have no doubt that this will prove good enough. For all his many faults, he is a superb potions master and he did have access to Severus' notes. I have every faith in his abilities.'

Hermione took comfort from these words. She was lucky; Wolfsbane was an extremely difficult potion to make, as even Slughorn claimed that the great Damocles couldn't have invented it without immense effort. Very few potions masters were able to successfully brew it. Severus Snape had been one such master, she thought, surprising herself with feeling more than a hint of sadness at that fact. Slughorn had admitted that he had not brewed a batch for years but had stated that with access to Severus' notes, he had every confidence that he could brew it correctly once again.

She also knew she was fortunate simply because the ingredients required to brew the potion were ruinously expensive, making it nigh-impossible for werewolves to brew it themselves, as they usually lived in poverty due to their difficulty in finding stable careers. She'd read in Lupin's diary that one of the main reasons he'd returned to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was because Albus Dumbledore offered a limitless supply of the Wolfsbane Potion. She found herself wondering if such a future career option would be available to her now that Dumbledore was gone too. Minerva may be the deserved headmistress of Hogwarts but Hermione wasn't sure if her mentor had enough authority in their society to face down the opposition that would be sure to come were it to be announced that a werewolf was returning to the Castle.

As if reading her thoughts, Minerva interrupted her reverie. `Have you made a decision yet, my dear?'

Hermione shook her head, knowing that she needed more time. As the school was still closed for repair, Minerva had informed her of the offer to allow all students to re-sit the academic year that had just ended. Not only had the school lost nearly two months of the final term, the tutelage under Snape and the Carrows for the previous eight months had been almost non-existent for every form year in the school. With focus on blood purity rather than on a proper curriculum, no one had received a decent education. Come September 1^st, everyone had the chance to do the year over again properly - if they wanted to.

That this offer had been extended to Ron, Harry and herself had taken her aback. It was not something she had considered and she still didn't know what to do. She had no clue as to what Harry and Ron were planning either. Six weeks ago her answer would have been an immediate "YES!!!" but now things had changed so much - she had changed so much - that she was as yet undecided. All her previous plans to pass her NEWTS and consider her career options had been blown away by events.

`I still don't know what to do. The idea appeals but then I think that I'll spend the year being gawped at by half the students. It will be a million times worse for Harry too. After everything we've done, going back to school seems so…'

`So normal,' Minerva finished for her. `It might be just exactly what you need. I can assure you that Hogwarts and her staff will treat you exactly like any other students or I'll know the reason!' She had raised her voice as she finished speaking and calmed herself with an effort. `Returning to Hogwarts might be exactly what you need, my dear.' She paused for a moment. `It means we will be able to manage your…condition until such times as you have adapted.' She smiled sadly. `We have certain experience in these matters and I will do everything in my power to maintain the strictest confidentiality. I do not consider it to be anyone's business save mine, yours and anyone you choose to share the information with. Rest assured no one will hear anything of it from me.'

Hermione could only smile her gratitude. Minerva McGonagall was proving to be a rock that she could anchor herself against. Tonight she would discover just how good a potion master Horace Slughorn was and she knew that much depended on this. If she could at least maintain control of the beast, she knew her future life would be bearable.

`I'll wait until after tonight,' she finally replied. `If the potion works then that will make my decision easier. I'll let you know in the morning.'

The headmistress nodded her understanding and found herself with yet another reason for hoping that Horace would be able to live up to his reputation.

……………………………………..

Harry flopped onto the leather sofa in the Gryffindor common room and allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction as he enjoyed a precious moment alone. Since returning to the school earlier in the week, he had been heavily involved in the restoration of the battle ravaged castle and could now see visible signs of progress; he reckoned there was an excellent chance of meeting the September 1^st deadline.

Of course, he had only made a small contribution to the overall effort. Every available house elf was working in shifts around the clock to restore the castle's former glories. With the Headmistress overseeing the entire operation, he, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had meekly obeyed any and all instructions that were given. The work was difficult but enjoyable as there was much satisfaction to be had from giving back to the school that had given them so much. For all the many dangers he had faced here, Hogwarts was the nearest thing he had to call home and he felt privileged to be afforded the opportunity to help. The destruction had been total - barely a corner of the castle had been left untouched - and the majority of the work was beyond the capability of a simple Reparo spell. Thankfully, the castle itself seemed to aid them when necessary and he had been reminded once again that Hogwarts was so much more than a building. He'd found himself thinking of Dumbledore a lot recently.

Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.

It would seem that the old man would continue to surprise him, even in death. The castle was helping and he recognised once again that anything that Dumbledore had ever uttered could be said to have at least three interpretations. It was if the old man had known all along what would be required in the future.

Smiling, he leaned back into the sofa, placing his hands behind his head as he mused on the past week. He'd initially been surprised when Ginny had accompanied them to help with the repairs, but then he'd realised that she was probably desperate to get out of the Burrow and away from the mournful atmosphere that pervaded there. For all that Molly and Arthur tried to put a brave face on it there was no getting away from the grief that Fred's loss has caused. It was less than a month since he'd been buried and he knew that Ginny would want the distraction. Having lost so many people close to him in his short life, he knew exactly how she felt.

He'd been apprehensive at first as he was aware of an awkwardness that existed between them since he'd broken things off. Despite this, he'd been pleasantly surprised by Ginny's behaviour; she'd acted as if nothing had happened and their relationship had reverted back to what it had been at the start of his sixth year before he'd been interested in her romantically. He was more pleased about this than he could express as Ginny's friendship was something he valued and did not want to lose. It was a great relief to him that any issues between them had been resolved. He found himself smiling at the thought.

He only wished he could say the same about Ron and Hermione.

He found his urge to smile suddenly removed. He couldn't put his finger on it but something was definitely awry between the two of them. For one thing, he'd no idea if they were even an item any more. There was no closeness between them; no physical contact or intimate moments shared. They had been cooped up in the castle together all week and hadn't shared a cross word between them. He found this suspicious rather than a cause for optimism. If Ron and Hermione weren't arguing about something stupid at least some of the time, something was wrong. They were too polite with each other; their attitude towards each other could best be described as…proper. They bore the mannerisms of two protagonists who had just fought a duel - polite, civil, formal, yet utterly frigid and stiff. For the life of him he couldn't work out what was going on between them and it was driving him mad.

Harry had few certainties in his life but one of them was his friendship with Hermione. She was without a doubt the finest person he knew and he counted himself blessed that she counted him among her closest friends. She was, honest, sincere, reliable, fiercely loyal and loving and found himself wondering if Ron fully appreciated what he had in front of him.

He better do.

The relationship between Ron and Hermione was now giving cause for concern. When he wasn't being overly polite in her company, Ron was morose and irritable. Hermione too wasn't beyond reproach; he didn't think she was being fair to Ron. Either she wanted to be his girlfriend or she didn't. It wasn't fair to leave the situation open to ambiguity and with each passing day it became less and less clear just what their relationship was. Ron was Ron and wasn't going to change; if she couldn't accept him the way he is then it would be better for everyone if she said so now.

He hasn't voiced these concerns to either of them yet but he knew that if things didn't improve he would need to say something. It wasn't a conversation he was looking forward to. He also knew that he would need to wait until after tonight before broaching the subject. So much was at stake tonight - they would find out soon enough if Slughorn's Wolfsbane potion was good enough. If it was - if Snape's notes were that good - then he had no doubt that Hermione would soon be brewing it herself.

He was nervous about tonight; he knew how important control was to Hermione. Remus had made clear in his journal the difference the potion made to his life. He only hoped that it would have the same impact on his dearest friend. For now all he could do was wait.

………………………………………….

Minerva McGonagall glanced out of the window of what she now considered as Hermione's "cell" and watched as the last rays of the sun slowly began to dip below the horizon. She turned to her favourite student, aware of the gamble she was undertaking. Having been through this three times already with Hermione, Minerva was aware of the significance of this night. This time, there would be no chains - only bars.

This was significant because if the Wolfsbane potion did not work, Hermione in her untamed wolf form would ultimately bite and scratch herself, such would be her frustration and her primal rage. She had actually witnessed this before with a young Remus Lupin and knew first hand that this process left both deep physical and psychological scars. It was actually the latter that she feared the most; in her extensive experience, the mind took the longest to heal. She uttered a silent prayer that this would not happen this time.

`Are you ready?' she asked quietly.

Hermione only nodded as she too turned to watch the dying embers of the sun. `As ready as I'll ever be. You had better leave.'

Minerva nodded and gave the lock on the bars one final check. `I'll be back once the moon is out.'

`No!!! You mustn't! It's too dangerous.' There was real fear in Hermione's voice.

`I'm afraid that I must,' Minerva calmly replied. `If you think I am waiting all night to find out if this works then you are clearly not as clever as I thought you were.' Despite the situation, both women smiled at these words. `I will merely stick my head around the door to check - don't worry; I will not get too close.'

Hermione nodded her acceptance, realising the futility of arguing with the Headmistress once she had made up her mind. `Thank you,' she whispered.

Minerva gave a brisk nod before turning and stepping out of the room, closed the door and finally sealed the magical bolts before leaning her head against the thick oak barrier. In around ten minutes they would know for sure. She had no doubt this would be the longest ten minutes of her life.

………………………………….

Hermione stood in the cold cell and hugged herself in the blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders, seeking comfort when there was little to be found. She was aware of the risks involved tonight; aware that if Slughorn had not brewed the potion correctly then she could seriously damage herself. Minerva had suggested that she use the chains just to be sure but Hermione did not want this. She sought control more than anything and would not have this if chained to a wall - even if she did have control of her mind. She'd weighed up the pros and cons and decided to gamble.

She watched as the first hint of moonlight began to creep in through the window as the sun finally dipped below the horizon. Closing her eyes she focussed on her breathing as she waited for the first pulse; the first surge that was the harbinger of her change. Such was her concentration she almost missed it, the same as her first transformation. She recognised the surge within her, almost welcoming it as she knew that her questions would soon be answered.

She lurched suddenly and fell to her knees as her body convulsed violently. It felt much as before and she experienced the same inability to control her own movements as the pain once again coursed throughout her body. She gritted her teeth, determined not to scream as she experienced the familiar stretching sensation as her muscles and sinews were strained to their limit. She felt herself baring her teeth and watched dispassionately as her fingernails expanded and turned into claws. She experienced a sudden, final surge of agonising pain, and closed her eyes as panic threatened to overwhelm her.

Then everything stopped. A long silence stretched for what seemed like an eternity as the wolf form on the floor breathed deeply.

Then Hermione Granger opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. She slowly stood up, taking a few moments to maintain her balance. She held her arms out, turning them over as her eyes took in every inch of fur, her eyes widening in amazement as she beheld her razor sharp claws. It took a few moments for the implications of this to sink in; for the realization to finally hit.

I am me! I am aware!

Were it not for the limitations of her canine jawbone structure, she would have smiled.

………………………………………….

Minerva McGonagall unsealed the magical bolts on the door, gently prised it open and tentatively peered around the thick oak planks. She was careful to go nowhere near the iron bars on the other side of the room until she was sure. It took a few moments for her eyes to become accustomed to the lack of light in the room but once they did she noticed a darker shape in the far corner. It actually looked like a sack of coal that had been carelessly dumped but as she took a step into the room there was a sudden movement and Minerva became aware of a set of piercing brown eyes that regarded her calmly. Daring to hope, she moved closer.

`Hermione?'

In response, the "lump" in the corner moved and stretched and suddenly there was a full size werewolf in front of the headmistress. Despite the distance between them and the iron bars - not to mention her prior feelings of hope - she took an involuntary step back. Then the werewolf in front of gently padded across the cell and picked up a blanket before wrapping it round its shoulders. Then it lay back down again, curling up and closing its eyes as if asleep.

Minerva found herself quietly weeping as she realised the significance of what she was witnessing.

`Oh, Hermione; I'm so happy for you. I'll go and tell Harry and Ron that it worked! They'll be on tenterhooks!'

With these words, she scurried out of the room, sealing the door behind her and rushing off to spread the good news.

On the other side of the door, Hermione closed her eyes and let herself drift off to a contented sleep.

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