Disclaimer: Neither the world nor the characters belong to me. They are the property of J K Rowling, to whom I owe thanks for letting us use her creation to tell these alternate stories. The challenge belongs to whitetigerwolf, to whom I owe thanks for the idea that kick-started this story. I'll happily claim credit for the story itself, though.

Some Author's notes: Communication and language.

"Normal speech"; "Thoughts"; Lingua Felinarum; {Parseltongue}.

Chapter 9: A Close Call

Hermione clung to Harry's hand tightly as they sat in McGonagall's office, waiting for her return. After ushering the feline couple inside, the Transfiguration professor had left them there as she gathered information on what precisely had happened. Harry pushed his chair as close to his mate's as he could manage, and the two of them began a whispered conversation.

"How did you know when to bolt, Hermione?" he asked. "I knew because I could understand parseltongue, but you ran at the exact moment I did. Why?"

Her first thought was to say because he had, but upon closer examination, he was right. There should have been a moment or two between his reaction and hers, if that were so. Struggling to remember the exact sequence of events without the adrenaline of the chase affecting her wasn't an easy task.

Then she recalled exactly why she had run. Her eyes widened in shock. "No... It can't be... it's impossible..." she stuttered.

Harry stood and took her in his arms. At most the felines had a few more minutes of privacy before McGonagall's return. "That just means no-one's done it yet, Her-my-honey," he said. "So what was it?"

Hermione looked up at her mate, and as amber met emerald, she hissed. {Because I could understand what she was saying, too.} The bushy-haired witch began to shake and tremble with fear. "What does this mean, Harry? How could I become a parselmouth? It's something you have to be born with, isn't it?"

The two feline children started, jumping at least three feet (or so it felt) when Professor McGonagall's voice spoke behind them. "Apparently not, Miss Granger. Now if you and Mr Potter can tell me exactly what happened to petrify Miss Clearwater and Miss Bones?"


The full account of events took about twenty minutes to explain, with the transfiguration teacher silent through most of it. At several points, she had asked questions for clarification. After the two had finished, McGonagall stood. "Follow me, you two," she said. "We're going to need to share this with Professor Dumbledore."

As the elderly witch led them through the corridors, the kitty couple clung together. They felt unprepared for the changes that were swiftly overtaking them. Harry could almost feel his mate's fear and anxiety as if it were his own. Both of their tails were lashing about, betraying their agitated state to anyone who knew enough about cats.

Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape were not among the group of teachers gathered at the scene of the petrification of Susan and Penelope, but Dumbledore, Flitwick and Sprout were. As McGonagall brought her charges forward, there was the sound of a man hurrying along the stone floors, and both cat children laid their ears flat back as the cloying stench of his 'cologne' hit them, seconds before Lockhart himself rounded the corner.

Before the DADA professor could start boasting and claiming glory, McGonagall spoke up.

"Albus, I believe you need to hear the story these two have to tell." Her stern voice easily overpowered Lockhart's attempts to be heard. Once again, Harry and Hermione went into their story, although they left out the part about the parseltongue ability Hermione had acquired. They had decided, with McGonagall's support, that this was a piece of information to impart only to a trusted few, in a truly private space. A second floor corridor didn't seem like the time or place.

At the mention of a basilisk, Lockhart had started bragging that it wouldn't be hard to beat. On hearing that all the roosters had been killed, he went pale. When he found out how big it was he passed out. Flitwick nudged the man with a shoe. "I thought he was supposed to be a Gryffindor?"

"He was," agreed McGonagall. "He didn't have the brains and talent for Ravenclaw, the work ethic for Hufflepuff, or the cunning for Slytherin. His greatest quality was a reckless desire for glory... We really need a minimum cut-off for these things in the Hat."

By the time the feline friends had finished, Filch had arrived with news. "Sorry, Headmaster," he grumbled. Argus Filch couldn't do anything in any other way, it seemed. "The head of the DMLE is in the hospital wing, waiting for an explanation, sir."


The square-jawed witch stood by her niece's bed, looking down into the surprised expression on her face. Her steel-grey eyes then ranged over the apologetic man in front of her, and the two cat-people with him, weighing and measuring. She'd spotted the glamours the second Harry Potter and Hermione Granger had entered the room, and asked them to be removed. Once they had, she had listened to their story of the events that had led to the current situation.

Harry was very worried. Amelia Bones was an intimidating presence, especially when she was angry. Right now, he was very glad that he and Hermione weren't the targets of said anger.

"So," she said in a voice that exhibited both the rage she was barely holding back and the steely will that was doing so. "A spirit bound to a diary possessed a student and caused them to open the Chamber of Secrets so the creature inside, a basilisk, would attack the students, of whom none have been killed by a series of unlikely circumstances. Am I right so far?" Dumbledore nodded. "Were their guardians notified?"

"I tried," the headmaster answered. "I managed to contact the Grangers about their daughter's transformation, now they're seriously considering finding an alternative establishment for her education, but any attempts to notify parents or guardians about this crisis have been blocked by the Board of Governors and the Ministry, on the grounds of Statute of Secrecy article 34, subsection C." The normally calm wizard was a half-inch from spitting.

The painting beside the door was suddenly filled by a short man in armour. "Headmaster, Lucius Malfoy is on his way! He's got some official-looking documents in his hands as well, at least three different ones."

"I thought I would have more time," mused Dumbledore.

"Why?" asked Madam Bones. "What's Malfoy up to?"

"I suspect he has the papers to suspend me as headmaster, but I have no idea what the others might be."


Lucius Malfoy swept into the hospital wing. There had been plenty of time for Harry and Hermione to activate their glamours and take seats by Susan's bed. Madam Bones had chosen to remain standing, on the opposite side of the bed. The arrogant blonde wizard strode up to Dumbledore, with an auror behind him, and held out all three parchments.

"Dumbledore," he sneered, "I find myself the bearer of g- bad news. You are to be removed as the headmaster of Hogwarts, by order of the Board of Governors. Further, you are hereby replaced by Professor Severus Snape, again by order of the Board. Finally, as Head of the House of Malfoy, I have been authorised to take into possession all dangerous magical creatures found within these walls. Aboleo!" The last word was spat in the direction of the kitty couple as the magic in their collars was abolished. "Take the monsters into custody, Auror Dawlish."

As the grim-looking auror stepped forwards, the square-jawed witch behind the bed made a decision. Malfoy had escaped Azkaban and punishment by a combination of the 'Imperius Defence', as it had come to be called when one of Voldemort's cronies wanted to claim they'd been subject to the infamous Unforgivable curse, and large donations to several 'charitable organizations'. Strange that no-one ever found out exactly which charities were so endowed.

"Stand down, Dawlish." Her voice of steel and fire had finally found an outlet, and Harry, for one, was very glad it wasn't aimed at him. "Although I don't know much about Hogwarts, I do know a few things about the law. Malfoy, do you bleach your brains along with your hair? The authority you just attempted to claim has to come past the head of the Department of Magical Creatures and the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It didn't. On top of that the Decree for Magical Equality of 1897 specifically exempts sentient creatures that can communicate from such claims. So that third parchment is worth exactly nothing. I should let you try to serve it though. Tell you what, I'll keep an eye on these two creatures while you and Auror Dawlish go capture the sixty-foot basilisk that's been attacking the students, how does that sound?"

Malfoy somehow managed to go even paler than he already was, and the auror fainted. "S-sixty-f-foot b-basilisk?" Lucius managed to stutter out, taking a firm grip on his fear. "Surely you jest, the largest basilisk on record was twenty-five feet."

"And that one took fifty aurors three hours to defeat, by the end of which there were only ten. Then again, I'm sure you and Auror Dawlish can compensate, somehow. As for the rest of it, I'm not joking. Professor Dumbledore himself saw and heard the evidence, including what Professor Snape assures me is basilisk blood and, what else was it, optical fluid?" The head of the DMLE watched as Malfoy began to hyperventilate. "Would you still like to enforce that piece of parchment?"

"I... In light of this information... perhaps I was a little hasty." Each word from Malfoy was almost dragged out unwillingly. "However, on the other two matters, I shall brook no interference. I know the regulations as laid down by the Board."

"Then I believe I shall decline the post, Lucius," said Professor Snape, as he emerged from Madam Pomfrey's office. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, but not even I can take on a millennial basilisk. You'd do as well to ask Potter here to face a Hungarian Horntail."

"So who should be placed in charge? This man can't even protect the mud- muggleborn students from this alleged basilisk. I'm acting to protect our pureblood children before the creature gets to them." Malfoy stepped back with a sneer on his face.

He really wasn't expecting an attack, but he'd made sure to protect himself against most basic offensive spells. Amelia Bones didn't think to use one. There was a sickening crack as she drove her fist into the arrogant blonde's jaw. As the man went down like a pole-axed cow, she gathered in her rage.

"THEN WHY IS MY NIECE IN THAT BED YOU POMPOUS, PEA-BRAINED, SELF-ABSORBED ESCAPEE FROM …." The rant was just as impressive for being cut off at that point as for the vitriol and vocabulary inherent within it.

"Excuse me," asked Dumbledore in the following silence, "but has any one seen Mr Potter or Miss Granger?"

Sure enough, when they looked towards where the felines had been sitting, there was no trace of the couple.