Author's note: This is an alternate universe fic of Harry's fifth year and onwards. Harry is not the main character but he shows up a lot. I do not own the books :S If you note any errors (especially from books 1-4) please leave a review :) This starts out at a PG level, but gravitates towards a thematic pg-13 or more in later chapters. I am currently updating the story/editing, which is why all the old chapters are missing. They should be back soon!

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, Hogwarts, Severus Snape, and all related terms such as muggles and knuts, etc. Alas, this is only a fanfiction!

Stage 1: A girl and her cat?

~I'll pack my bags

Go to Gibralter

But you can't send my heart away~

By all accounts, it was an ordinary day. A few urban pigeons were cooing, seventeen tourists were eating at the corner sandwhich shop, and a couple of stray cats were milling about looking for scraps. A tabby of a particularly peculiar shade of gray was especially hungry. Her name was Yabby, or Yabine Lakisha Alphonse to that one Aunt who always had a plan for her life when she visited. To the locals, she was simply 'Scram, cat!'

Yabby had wandered the streets of London for ten years, the violet tinge fading from her grey fur until she looked as gaunt and bony and as un-strikingly ordinary as any wild stray. If perhaps she was a bit longer lived and more cunning than even a cat had a right and proper claim to be, it was blamed upon the proximity of her prowling zone to the Cat's Back Pub.

Why such an ordinary building could affect the mind of so many people, when its only true claim to fame was a preponderance of bizarre knicknacks, had all to due with a month-long trip the bar's own feline resident had taken to visit relatives in Findland. Since the cat's return the whole place had been given new life, and it seemed every cat in the area was now excused a few oddities and unnatural traits as part of the special nature of the Cat's Back Pub. So in these days, no one noticed just another wild-cat, no matter how unusual her behavior, and no matter how loud her stomach growled.

Yabby's paws made barely a sound on the damp sidewalk as she padded down the streets farther from the tourists than she normally went. There were little girl's playing here, perhaps on recess from some sort of school. An old chainlink fence, covered in rust, enclosed them in - or kept the world out. Yabby looked for a place to dart under - there were few fences that could stop her, and a sign caught her eye. 'Sailor Orphan's House'. It was far from the worst orphanage she had seen in her wanderings about the muggle world the past ten years. The girls had decent clothes that looked warm enough for the cool weather, and Yabby fancied she could smell the bread and fruit that some of the girl's were eating even from her side of the fence. What wonders their trash bins might hold!

The fence would hold her no more. She flattened into the first opening she found, no doubt where some stupid dog had previously dug a tunnel. At least they had some uses. Yabby sneezed dust out of her nose, mourning her fate only for a moment. A blondish girl by a side door was peeling potatoes, and that seemed as good a place as any to start a food raid.

"Hello, little cat."

Yabby froze, her teeth salivating over the edge of a crisp peel. She looked up at the girl slyly, planning to dart away at first chance.

"I did not know that cats liked potatoes." The girl dipped a hand into one pocket, coming up with a half-eaten sandwich wrapped in a napkin and nearly crumbled apart. She tilted her head slightly to the side in a fluid, curious motion. "It is all right, you can take it."

Yabby thought for a moment, then dug in to the offering that was placed before her. When one was starving, one could not afford to be cautious. After she gulped a few bites, she reassessed the orphan who had calmly returned to peeling potatoes. She seemed quite ordinary, if perhaps extraordinarily poised for a young girl. Her lack of extraneous motion, she was nearly still except for her task, was rather soothing for Yabby's skittish senses. But there was something else about the encounter that Yabby was having a harder time placing.

"If you want something good, you should come back in the evening." The girl picked up the now empty napkin and replaced it in her pocket. "The matron dumps the cooking scraps in the back dumpster before dinner."

Yabby looked at her intently as it dawned on her. The girl was not speaking to her as a human, the girl was speaking to her as a cat. Due to the nature of her form, being once a human herself, Yabby could understand both the stray cats of the city and the muggles of London. She had yet to meet, however, a muggle or wizard that could understand cat. Yabby slid into the shadows next to the girl. "I'm Yabby." She tried. "Can you understand me?"

The girl smiled. "I talk to cats a lot, but I have not seen you before. Yabby is a very unique name. Is it like Tabby with a Y?"

"No." Yabby hissed lowly. "It's short for Yabine. I'm Yabine Alphonse."

"That is a very proper name." The girl continued to peel potatoes. "I am Sheranaqua, but it is a very long name."

"It is." Yabby was getting impatient. If this girl could speak felidingua, the language of the cats, then she was quite probably a wizard, and possibly on her way to Hogwarts in just a few days! "I grew up in Coventry." She tried to explain. "I was an orphan too, my parents were murdered - but I was raised by my wizard grandfather. I went off to Hogwarts when I was 11, no one was surprised at all."

The girl looked a bit startled at last, her grey eyes widening. "What an interesting story!"

"It's my story." Yabby glared at her. "Hogwarts is a school for wizards, and I liked it very much. But some of my friends discovered a book in the forbidden section on how to become an animagus and shared it with me. They soon gave up, but I was going to master the spell no matter what. I wanted to prove I could do it."

"What is an animagus?" Sheranaqua was staring at her intently, leaning forward in palpable curiousity, the potatoes momentarily forgotten.

"An animagus is a wizard who can take on the form of an animal." She explained. "And not all wizards even have the potential to become one." Yabby amended smugly.

"Considering that you are a cat..." The girl looked her over without moving her head, "If you were once a wizard, then it must have worked."

Yabby felt as if she was reliving the moment all over again, the fur on her back standing on end. "It worked, in that I successfully transfigured myself into a cat. I enjoyed it for a few hours, chasing mice in the castle halls and spying on other students, but I found I could not return to my original form. For days I tried, I must have chased every teacher in the school, but no one recognized me, and Dumbledore was away on business - he's the headmaster. I am sure he would have figured it out, especially after I went missing. But soon I was chased off the grounds by Mrs. Sprout when I tried eating some of the greenhouse plants. The wards - those are magic barriers - kept me from reentering. I could have waited in the Forbidden Forest for a friendly student, but I was not going to take my chances with the monsters - and I badly needed food. So I wandered, and wandered, and eventually followed the Hogwart's Express train tracks back to muggle London to live my life out as a cat until I could find a way to break the spell or transform myself back."

"That is amazing." The girl had gone back to peeling potatoes.

Yabby despaired of her being of any use. She tried a different tact. "How did you learn felidingua?"

"Felidingua? What is that?" Sheranaqua didn't look up, apparently making up for lost time by peeling faster,

"Cat talk." Yabby munched on one of the fallen peels. It wasn't a sandwich, but it was sustenance.

"I do not know. I have been able to talk with cats ever since I can remember, although typically they talk about fish and that 'icky human smell' when people pet them. You are quite intelligent for a cat. I mean, that is, a wizard cat."

"Thank you." Yabby brushed up against Sheranaqua's leg instinctively, nuzzling her in a moment of pride.

"Hey, Sherry-Cat!" A teenage boy loomed up behind them. "Talking to the strays again? I've told you before if you need a Tom, just holler." He winked and the girl ignored him. "The cook says she wants the potatoes inside like, five minutes ago, so you better hurry." He vanished, and Sheranaqua stood slowly with the basket.

She looked down at the cat. "Sneak in and go up the stairs. My room is the second to last one on the right, the door will be open. Hide under my bed until I get there, and help yourself to the cheese." Sheranaqua carried the potatoes in, and Yabby darted inside under her cover.

Finding the bedroom was easy, the smell of cheese would have alerted her even if Sheranaqua had not given her directions. Yabby did wonder why there were so many pieces, especially as quite a few were obviously old and molded or dry, but she didn't care. It was the jackpot of dinners, and she planned to eat every edible piece before Sheranaqua could take back the offer.

Sheranaqua dumped the peeled potatoes into the sink to the cook's terse approval. Mrs. Gilling, the orphanages middle-aged headmistress, noted Sheranaqua's entrance and shuffled over. She plucked a book out from behind a canister of raisins and handed it to her ten-year-old charge. "It's forty minutes to dinner, you hear?"

Sheranaqua clutched the book tightly and curtsied. "Yes ma'am!" She said before walking briskly off to her room.

The grey cat greeted her, looking quite bloated and about to fall asleep. "Where did you get so much cheese?"

"It is for the mice, like in the movies." Sheranaqua straitened out a bent bedcover to satisfaction then looked back at the cat, "The abused orphan always gets to be friend with the mice by saving them cheese as a peace offering. Of course, I am not an abused orphan and there are no mice, but I hate cheese. This gives me an excuse to not eat it."

"No mice?" Yabby glanced around, disappointed.

"Of course not." Sheranaqua climbed atop the bed, "State regulations." She looked at the book for a moment, then set it down on one of the pillows and turned back to Yabby. "So, you are a witch. Are you wicked?"

"Rebellious, maybe. I broke a rule and ended up like this. That's why I need your help." Yabby stretched out on the floor before jumping up to the bed beside her. "I need you to take me to Hogwarts and explain to Mr. Dumbledore who I am, so he can change me back."

"And you have been unable to do it yourself?"

"I am not strong enough a witch." Yabby curled up. The orphanage was surprisingly warm. She looked up at Sheranaqua quizzickly. "Are you sure you aren't a witch? They usually know by your age."

"I do not know any magic spells." Sheranaqua laughed. "Although I always win at Bingo, does that count?"

"I don't know." Yabby responded seriously to her teasing. "You could just have good luck."

"They will not even let me play anymore." Sheranaqua thought for a moment. "I tend to win raffles a lot too, and drawings. It is why I end up peeling potatoes every other week actually. We have a chore hat that includes a few chores and a free period, and the odds are that you will only get one of them every few days. But I get something every day, whether it is a chore or a free hour during study time."

"That's more than good luck." Yabby perked up. "That's magic of some sort at work, you would definitely qualify for Hogwarts, I'm sure of it."

"Hogwarts, that was the school?"

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Yabby said proudly. "A school for witches and wizards, naturally.

Sheranaqua brushed shedded cat fur off the bed absent mindedly. "I wish I could go."

"Take me there." Yabby insisted slyly. "They will let you in. You can tell them to change me back."

Sheranaqua laughed lightly. "You are funny. I do not know why they do not let us have cats."

"I am not a cat, I am a girl."

"Ah, yes."

A loud knock at the door startled the two. Yabby darted back under the bed as the door swung open. The headmistress peeked in. She looked ready to cry. "Sheranaqua, I need to speak with you." Mrs. Gilling pulled out a white handkerchief and dabbed her eye. Yabby watched Sheranaqua follow the large woman out the door.

"Sheranaqua, in here". Nancy pulled her young charge into her study. The little girl stared around with her wide eyes, not saying a word. Nancy picked up the cursed letter from her desk and caught Sheranaqua's eyes. "I have some bad news." Immediately the orphan child sat up strait and attentive.

"What?" The girl whispered it, already knowing.

"It's the Fairchild Institute, they've sent the order for you." Mrs. Gilling choked back a sob.

"I do not want to go." Sheranaqua tightened her grip on the arm rests of her chair. "I have already informed them that I wish to remain here."

"The country of Britain has decided. I did all I could." The headmistress pounded the desk with her fist."They say that - they say that our facilities cannot provide everything a child in your special circumstances needs. You depart from Kings Cross station to the institute on Saturday."

"So soon then?" Sheranaqua forced her hands to relax, though she could do nothing to restore the color to her face. "Very well, but I shall go alone."

"I'm going with you on the first leg."

"No. I shall go alone. If you go it will just be harder."

Mrs. Gilling looked away. "We'll miss you."

Sheranaqua reached for the older woman's hands carefully, cupping them gently and watching the blue light from the lamp reflect off their skin. "You have thirty others just like me." She said quietly. "They need you more than I do."

"No one is just like you." Mrs. Gilling sqeezed her hand. "Everyone's special...that doesn't mean everyone has the same talents, or that everyone can save the world you know - it means that everyone is unique. That everyone is important to someone else - you are you, and no one else. Don't let those institute folk try and change you."

"Don't worry Mrs. Gilling." Sheranaqua looked up, smiling slightly. "I like who I am because of you. I don't want to lose that, no matter where I go."