Oki, so today's the day of the full moon. James is a ferret, and I am an updater. We'll try full-moon updates for a few chapters and see how that goes.
Thank you for the wonderful reviews!
ArmoredSoul: I completely agree. That's why he is what he is in my other story. I figured it was too much to have him be a lion (ish) in more than one story, so...yeah.
Little Miss Sparrow: I expect there must be another room where Hagrid sleeps. I mean...you never see a bed in the main room, you know? Two room hut. Sounds reasonable. Boarhounds!
Disclaimer: Authoress: I own all
Disney: No you don't. We do.
Authoress: Well you smell funny.
Chapter Eight
With an alarmed squeak, Norrington fled. The boarhound barked, great and rumbling, and gave chase. The ferret's tiny paws flew over the ground as he darted under chairs and between the prongs of a pitchfork, into nooks and crannies—behind cauldrons, under any furniture he could find. This proved fruitless, however, for the massive canine only bowled everything over and out of the way. James scurried past the unicorns—who were cowering against the wall, watching with wide eyes—and into the bedroom, where he managed to clamber up on top of the bed to swat at the hound's huge nose with his tiny thornpricks of claws. Bad dog! Bad dog! Down!
Well, a reader can imagine that the commotion was audible to the outside—the quaking barks of the dog, the clattering and smashing as furniture and utensils were knocked over. Hagrid, who had not gone far before the sounds had reached him, swung open the door and stormed inside. The first thing he met was James, leaping at him for safety. He landed safe in Hagrid's hands and turned back to snarl at the dog.
Upon meeting the set of sharp teeth in the face of so adorable a plaything, Fang yelped and fled, tail between his legs.
"Bad boy, Fang!" Hagrid scolded him. "We do not eat our guests, d'you hear?" Poor confused Fang just lowered his head and whined. "Terribly sorry about that, Mister James. I knew I was fergettin' an introduction somewheres."
The ferret glared up at him before climbing into his coat pocket and peering out at the Great Dane. "I s'pose yer stayin' with me then."
You would suppose correctly, Norrington sighed, looking up at him.
"That's all right, though. If yer awake, ye can see what it's like in one o' my classes. Come on now."
This ought to be interesting, the were-ferret thought resignedly as they went outside. I am a ferret now, I am not in my own world, I should be dead, and I am now about to attend a class for witchcraft. Another normal day...
They arrived in a small clearing, where a long table set up, with several stations lined up along it. Around said stations scuttled what looked like hedgehogs. "Those're the knarls I was gonna teach yer t' take care of," Hagrid told his pocket. "It's goin' ter be a project fer the second years fer th' next few weeks, an' so we'll have to make sure they're well cared for. Otherwise the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures 'll be after us for cruelty and mistreatment to animals, and th' class'd be put to an end."
They have laws about treatment of animals? This was utterly foreign to the ferret.
After several minutes' waiting, the conversations of twelve-year-olds preceded the arrival of the class. The young witches and wizards moved into the clearing, and their conversations grew excited and turned to the subject of what were on the table. "G'dafternoon, class," Hagrid rumbled. There were a few mumbled replies. "Have I got an assignment for you! Fer th' next week'r so, you'll all be learnin' how to take care of knarls an' collect their spines fer Potions class. Won't that be fun?"
These hedgehogs, they don't eat fancy ferret by any chance, do they? James wondered as his pocket swung close to one of the creatures.
However, it seemed like the young students shared their Professor's enthusiasm, and went right to work, diligently following his instructions. But, when things go swimmingly, there is always an instance that will change that. And such an instance occurred now. Knarls are very similar to hedgehogs except in one way: If food is left out for one, it assumed that the offender is trying to lure it into a trap, and will proceed to savage the person's belongings. Well, one of the students had neglected the cleanup of his workspace, leaving bits of food lying on the table. A knarl took offense at this, and proceeded to grip the student's momentarily unattended pack in its teeth and hurl it into a tree, where it hung perilously from a thin, wispy branch, too high to climb up to, and too weak to support the weight of any person.
James squealed in protest as he was pulled out of the pocket—he had begun to doze—and looked around in confusion as he blinked blearily in the sunlight. "All right, now, Messer Norrington, there's a bag up there's got a fragile cauldron and somesuch. Yer the only one light enough t' get up there, and all we need is fer ye ter knock it off'n th' branch fer one of us ter catch, all right?" As he said this, he was placing the ferret on a branch.
Are you mad?! I've no idea how to climb in this body. ...Hmmm, well. I suppose now is the time to learn. And with that, he began to scale the branches. From time to time, he slipped or misjudged his movements, and his audience gasped dramatically as they stared up at him, but his claws always dug into the wood, and he was able to haul himself to safety. After a minute or so, he reached the correct branch. Already sagging dangerously under the weight of the bag, the branch drooped and trembled as he cautiously sidled farther out. There, just a few more inches now... Too steep! He suddenly slipped down the curving branch and landed atop the bag. He trembled a moment, trying to regain his composure—for a ferret had a much weaker constitution than a commodore—and climbed back onto the branch. Pushing with all his ferrety might, he managed to shove the strap off. The bag fell, to be caught by Hagrid, and the strain on the branch was gone, which meant—Uh-oh... The branch snapped up, and the wereling was sent flying. Whoa!
"Wingardium Leviosa!" a student cried with a wave of her wand, and the weasel's descent stopped, leaving him floating in mid air.
And you couldn't have done that to get the blasted thing in the first place? James grumbled as he floated to land safely on a table.
"Good thinkin', Alice," said Hagrid. "Well done! All right, we've had enough excitement for one day. Now ye'll make sure ter clean up after yerselves. See yer nex' time." The class ended, and the students dispersed, chattering excitedly.
Is class always this exciting?
"Thanks, Mr. James," said Hagrid, offering his pocket once more. "Off t' lunch, and then another class. Ye can leave any time yer want, y'know."
And face your adorable puppy again? James thought cynically. I think not.
And so, he spent the day observing the classes as they came and went, and after that, dinner. Sitting by Hagrid's goblet, mostly out of sight of the students, he looked out at the masses and was amazed at how many there were. From up here, he could see that they were divided to sit at four long tables. He spotted the three Griffindors—Hermione and her friends—chatting and having a generally good time. Until a familiar blonde at the next table made some snide comment that seemed to hurt the lass and set the boys on reprimanding him and comforting her.
"It's all right, Hermione," Harry murmured to he down at their table. "Remember what Mr. Norrington said—he's probably fine."
"Yeah, don't listen to Malfoy," Ron put in. "He's just trying to get to you. He probably let him go right after he took him—he's prob'ly too afraid of ferrets to keep one too long, ever since that incident with Moody." This got a small smile out of her.
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It seemed a very short time before he was human two mornings later, as opposed to the eternity he had been expecting. Luckily, he had been under a blanket, dozing in front of the fire when it happened, and therefore was not exposed. He sat up, wobbling a little on two legs, clutching the blanket around him and looking out the window at the sunrise. He sighed, pensive, and after several minutes lost in thought, went to find his clothes.
After that, he began to prepare breakfast, figuring it was the least he could do after being a useless invalid for three days. "Mmm, sum'm smells awful good," Hagrid said cheerily as he entered the room. "Yer human again, I see."
"So I am. How do you like your eggs?"
And so, in the weeks following, James learned how to care for all of the animals under Hagrid's care. Once or twice, he made an appearance at a class—usually to show the first years their first unicorns, which were little Marlie and her brother. He had thoughtfully named the colt Chrystafi, meaning 'golden' in Latin, and the little critter followed him as a duckling follows its mother.
The days began to pass more quickly and more enjoyably, so much so that he neglected in counting the days as they passed.
A month after his arrival, Hagrid had led all of his fourth-year class out to the lakeside. "We got somethin' in store for ya today! These creatures are hard to find for humans, but merpeople have domesticated them for centuries. Powerful intelligent critters. Anyone'd venture ter try an' guess?"
Hermione's hand shot up. "It sounds like a Grindylow."
"That's a good guess. Merpeople have been domesticatin' Grindylows for ages. However, what I'm showin' ye terday is not a Grindylow. It's much more interestin.'" Harry and Ron exchanged concerned expressions, knowing Hagrid's tendencies for equating interesting with dangerous, as Hagrid blew into a special whistle. The class looked out over the lake, and a large object of an amazing velocity rose beneath the surface, surging toward them. Before long, the form of a man—James—rose out of the water. The class gasped. But it was not him that was amazing, no, but rather what he was riding: a hippocampus, or merhorse. It was a huge strawberry-roan mare, and it propelled itself toward the students with amazing speed and grace. When they thought it would fly right out of the water at them, scrambling out of the way to avoid it, it contrarily dove down out of sight. The water grew still for a few moments before they exploded out of the water, arching in a graceful flip, and then calmly swimming to shore. James dismounted, sopping wet, clothes clinging to him, slightly breathless, and gave the mare a well-deserved pat on the neck.
"Ev'ryone, this is James Norrington. 'E's come ter help me out with th' critters fer a while." The man bowed formally, and Hagrid went on to introduce the 'critter.' "And this, everyone, is Strawberry. She belongs ter th' merpeople, an' they've graciously allowed us t' borrow her fer t'day."
As Hagrid gave his lesson, James stood by the hippocamp and held her lead, occasionally sloshing water over her gills to keep them from drying out. Here, he had the chance to observe the students. His heart skipped a beat when he suddenly caught sight of a familiar blonde, who had been staring at him, stunned and with mouth agape, ever since he had come ashore. Anger boiling inside of him, he returned the stare with his coldest commodore glare, and for the first time, he was filled with a lust for revenge. Well, this hunger for payback must have permeated his glare, for the Slytherin's eyes widened and he hastily looked away. James turned back to the lesson, completely unmoved.
At last, at the end of the hour, the class ended, and the tine came for questions. Several passed, before Hermione's hand shot up. However, her question was directed at another. "Mister Norrington," his head snapped up, "how did you learn to ride her? Is it difficult?" Some of the students around her made noises of agreement.
He considered his words a moment, running his tongue over his teeth. "It is actually much like riding a horse—that which I have much experience with. The most difficult thing about it, I suppose, is keeping one's breath under water when moving at a higher velocity." He paused thoughtfully and added, "That, and getting the sea weed out of one's teeth after the matter. I fear I shall be up all night trying to remove it." Many students laughed.
"I'll make sure ter get summore floss," Hagrid assured him. "Tha's enough for t'day, class. See yer nex' time."
Chattering excitedly, the students gathered their things and left. Malfoy chanced a final glance over his shoulder, and found himself fixed in the disconcerting glare of the were-ferret. He met the murderous gaze and, unable to hold it, immediately turned away and hastened to leave, all the while feeling the predatory stare following his retreat.
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Later that day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had come by for a visit. James was making his mother's famous scones for them, little Chrystafi always by his side. The man turned his head sharply when the cheerful conversation turned to complaints over the behaviour of a student. Hermione was beginning to get very worked up by his actions and comments. James became suspicious. The boy's name sounded vaguely familiar, and he began to think that perhaps that name fit with the face he was imagining. "This Malfoy chap," he began tentatively, setting a tray of scones on the table—which Harry and Ron greatly and immediately appreciated. "He is blonde?"
"Yes..."
"About your age? Lives in a dungeon?"
"Yes."
"Why do yeh want ter know, Mess'r Norrington?"
"I was searching for a name to match a face," he replied, before adding in tones only Hagrid could hear, "He is the one who cast the Cruciatus curse when I first changed."
Hagrid turned his back to the children so that they would not see his shocked expression (he was not particularly gifted in the art of training his face.) "I'll be sure ter let Dumbledore know." Norrington nodded his thanks and they returned to their cheerful visit.
Eventually, it came time for the students to leave. James bid them farewell, and after the door had closed behind them, went out back to find out where Chrystafi and Marlie had gotten to. All of a sudden, a familiar pain shot through his limbs. He gasped in surprise; he hadn't known that today was the day! Before he ever had a chance to call for Hagrid, he had shrunken and transformed. He climbed out of his clothes and looked ruefully up at the afternoon sky's full moon.
Chrystafi, where he had been out front, being fawned over by Hermione, sensed that something was happening and suddenly whisked away to find his surrogate parent. Hermione, wondering what had made the little foal leave so spontaneously, followed after him, the boys tagging along behind. "It's you!" she gasped, catching sight of the ferret and scooping him up. "Look, it's the ferret Malfoy stole. It's okay!"
"Hermione, that could be any ferret," Harry told her.
"It's him. I know it. Look at the way he looks at you—it's like he understands everything we're saying."
"Oh come on, Hermione, ferrets can't understand you."
You've no idea, James thought, struggling a little in the girl's grasp.
"If I called him a flea-bitten rat, he wouldn't know the difference," Ron went on. Irritated, James leapt at him, landing squarely on his chest. In surprise and fright, the redhead fell back, as though he had been tackled.
Hermione picked him up again, before he could get away, and glared at Ron as he got up. Harry, behind her, was finding the whole scene very funny. "You were saying, Ron?"
Weasely straightened his shirt, indignantly retorting, "So he's obviously heard that one before. What real proof could you have that he's the same one?"
"If you look closely, his eyes are green. Just like the other one's. how many ferrets can there be with green eyes?"
"Well now you know he's safe. Put him down and let's get out of here and get ready for Potions before Snape gives us detention."
Yes, yes, put the ferret down. That seems a wonderful idea, James silently urged her.
"Well we can't just leave him here."
"Hermione," Harry began.
"Not with the hippogriffs. I'm going to keep him."
"Are you crazy? You saw how he attacked me!"
"You had it coming and you know it. Just be happy he didn't bite you."
"Besides," Potter cut in with a more sensible argument, "you don't know anything about taking care of ferrets."
"I can borrow some books on it then."
"You can't win, Ron," Harry conceded with a chuckle.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Can we go now?"
"Yeah, we're gonna be late; we've got to hurry."
"All right," Hermione agreed. "Let's get out of here." And so, they hurried up the path, carrying the were-ferret away from his only hopes of keeping his secret a secret.
Chrystafi squealed, desperately yanking at Hagrid's sleeve for him to follow. "What is it, li'l guy?" The gargantuan man was led to the pile of empty clothed, at which he exclaimed, "Mr. Norrington! Where'd 'e go, li'l guy?" The golden foal pointed his nose toward the castle, where they could just make out the forms of the three students approaching the great oak doors. A terrible liar, Hagrid could not just go up and ask to have the ferret back, not without inadvertently giving away some detail that would give James away. He had to tell Dumbledore instead. As he hurried to find the headmaster, he could only hope that they could get James out of there before he turned into a man again.
All right, and there is your chapter. I've got a purdy good idea as to what it's going to be about, but I have not yet begun to write it. Ah well, I have another moon to work on it.
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