I don't like Author's Notes anymore.
So this goes for the entire story.
I don't own the Hobbit, or Harry Potter, and so far, I own no good stories.
...Chapter One...
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The woods were silent tonight. Odd. I couldn't help but feel on edge as I searched the gaps in the trees, blinking rainwater out of my eyes. It just felt...odd. Odd and very, very wrong. The only noise that fell on my ears was the soft patter of raindrops on the leaves. The night felt...empty without Ron snoring away in the tent. I sighed and sank to the ground under a tarp that had been strung between two branches. I sat straight up, wand at the ready, for several moments, and then slumped against the tree behind me. No matter what I read, it seemed that there was only one type of adventure that lived beyond the written word.
The please-let-me-die-now kind that made you start planning the return trip in your sleep.
And I was planning the return trip - I had a headache that was getting worse every day, my magic was exhausted from all the spellcasting, and the weather had been dismal for weeks. This quest, or whatever it was, wasn't going well.
Maybe it was this that had me shakily opening a rather thick book, written entirely in Norse runes. The work of translating it lulled my mind into a peaceful, detached state, and I almost smiled as I wrote. Almost. I quickly frowned and leaned forward intently, staring at what I had written without a clue.
"The art of shape-shifting?" I blinked and looked between the book and my own cramped handwriting. Shaking my head, I bent over my paper again. "It...is...not...so...tricky...as many would...believe..."
My eyebrows drew together. Not tricky? Being an animagus was the epitome of difficultly, not to mention illegal, currently! However, that was my one great fault, like Harry's hero tendencies, or Ron's temper...or maybe his stomach - I wanted knowledge more than anything else, and once I picked something up, I couldn't put it down.
By the time that Harry woke up to take the second watch, I had covered three entire pages, front and back, with the translations from the Norse book. As I laid down on my cot in the tent, my mind was still buzzing. I must have tossed and turned for almost an hour before I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the folded papers.
"Lumos!" I squinted and began to read.
'The art of Shape-Shifting is said to be a complex and difficult magic...to those of narrow mind and dismissal.' If that wasn't Ron, then I would personally burn theses translations and join a Quidditch team. 'If one sees the world with truly open eyes, then changing forms from man to beast is easier than breathing.' I blinked. That easy? Maybe it was worth it...
When the sun rose above the treetops, I hastily stowed the papers away and stifled a yawn as I walked back out of the tent to let Harry sleep. I promptly fell down beneath the rain-splattered tarp, opened the Norse book, and resumed my work.
.
.
Okay...maybe this time! It had to work! I paused, held my breath, and tried again. Nothing. None of the whirlpool/Apparating feelings the translations had described. I looked down, and I still wore my t-shirt and jeans...no fur, feathers, or even scales in sight. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.
Oh, crap!
How was I going to hide that from Harry?!
When I returned to the tent, the hood of my jacket was pulled up. I could feel Harry's gaze on the back of my head, burning as though he could see what I was hiding. It was sunny out, it wasn't cold, and here I was, thinking that I could pass off wearing my hood up! I quickly ducked into the tent and retreated to the bathroom within it.
I stared at myself in the mirror once my hood was down. I looked mostly the same, except for...oh, dear. They didn't go away while I walked.
Wolf ears. I had wolf ears, pale white wolf ears, standing up among my hair. One of the risks of being an animagus. Well...at least I hadn't grown a tail, or...crap. I was bound six feet under. As I had stood there, my eyes had turned yellow. Yellow, of all eye colors! It couldn't have been something more discreet, like green, or a darker brown, no, it had to be yellow, and now I would be pointed out as an animagus for sure! An unregistered one, no less!
I sighed and picked up the brush that sat on the countertop, briefly disappearing into the kitchen for scissors. I hadn't yet learned how to transfigure my features back to normal, so I quickly brushed my hair through, snipped a bit here and there, tied a good deal of it into a bun on top of my head, effectively hiding my ears, even if they itched. The rest hung in haphazard bangs halfway over my eyes.
I could see the question in Harry's normally I colored eyes, but I ignored it, choosing to return to my practices in the clearing.
.
.
The Battle of Hogwarts. I never thought I would hear that again. But then Kingsley, the new Minister of Magic, turned up on mine and Ron's doorstep, speaking in hushed tones. I sat patiently at the kitchen table all the while, my eyes still covered by my bangs, and my ears carefully folded under my hair.
An hour later, I was being led through the Ministry by a squadron of Aurors, trying not to shake. I was herded onto a lift. A short wait, and then more walking...to the Department of Mysteries. I whined, actually whined like a dog - or a wolf - when I began to recognize my surroundings.
The circular room was only inhabited by five people - not counting my half-dozen Aurors - Percy, with his quill at the ready; two Unspeakables that I, of course, didn't recognize; Kingsley, who had Apparated ahead of us; and...Harry. The Boy-Who-Conquered looked cold and detached, and there was a betrayed look in his eyes. My breath quickened when I realized what had happened.
How could you?! I wanted to scream at my friend, scream, yell, run, do something, but the instant the words crossed my mind, I felt a spell binding me in place. One of the Unspeakables approached me, pushed aside my bangs, and tutted as she stepped aside to reveal my watering yellow wolf eyes. I whined again, just like my hard-earned animagus form did, and turned my pleading gaze on each person in the room. There was a roaring, thudding sound in my ears that blotted out all other sound - only afterwards did I realize that it was my wolfish heartbeat making itself known.
Kingsley said something, and a moment later, without a trial, the Aurors threw me through the Veil, and I was weightless.