A/N: This chapter has been the most uncooperative piece of poo I have ever
written. It simply refuses to behave and be like I want it to, and
therefore it is short and random. I apologize. I promise, 8 will be an
improvement (can't get much worse) and by the time 9 rolls around, we
should be good again.
It was a good twelve years before anything changed.
One day, a girl entered the shop with two boys behind her. Something about her reminded me of Lyria a bit; perhaps it was the fluffy hair, for there was no other physical resemblance, or perhaps it was her enchantment with a creature others had nothing but disapproval for. One of the boys looked so familiar... so much like Lyria's friend James...
A RAT!! I lunged at it, paying no attention to the red haired boy who seemed to own him. Rat and boys flew from the store, and only Lyria-like girl (who I learned was named Hermione) remained.
She bought me.
I always did have good luck with girls with fluffy hair.
"No one wanted him," she was telling her friends, clutching me as if she expected me to run away. Well of course no one wanted me! I made myself deliberately unpleasant!! I sniffed the air and immediately felt like I should be on my guard. But why? What shady type were my senses warning me of? The only people I'd been around were Hermione, the redhead, and James- like child.
That rat! It had to be the rat! I wasn't quite sure what was wrong with it, but I knew it wasn't to be trusted almost immediately.
It turned out Hermione was going into her third year at Hogwarts the next day. Funny, Lyria had bought me before her third year as well. History repeating itself... perhaps I should be wary of that redhead, then, if he was anything like James' supposed best friend.
Hogwarts never changes. I noticed that upon returning with Hermione. The building was the same, and though a few of the teachers were different (and mind, not terribly many), things continued as they had for the past thousand some years.
Hermione let me wander pretty freely, which was nice. I started getting in the habit of hunting nights; it was important to stay practiced. I could wind up on my own at any time, as life had taught me more than once...
One night, I was wandering the grounds when I sensed *something* behind me. I turned-
A giant black dog stood there, but I knew it wasn't a dog. It seemed I had encountered the escaped biker jerk... I hissed viciously. An Animagus, was he? That explained the smell of dog.
He stopped, surprised, and transformed back. If I hadn't known from his smell, I never would have known it was him. The dark hair hung matted to his elbows, his eyes no longer laughed, and he looked like he hadn't eaten properly in the twelve years he'd been locked up. He looked like... well, like he'd escaped from prison, I reasoned with myself. And he ought to be there! Killing thirteen people, betraying his two friends and his pregnant fiance... he'd made enough of a mess. I snarled at him, trying to get him to go away.
"I've got enough enemies without a stupid cat after me now too," he muttered hoarsely, sounding nothing like he used to.
I stopped and watching him sit down, the vacant look still in his eyes. I wondered if he had gone crazy. Enough of them do, in that place... and he *had* been there long enough. How he'd even made it that long was mystery enough; perhaps he *had* learned dark powers from You-Know-Who. And however had he managed to escape? Granted, he was bright, but that was supposed to be impossible...
What troubled me was that he had never seemed to be that type. I'd shared a house with him, and I'd never sensed even a shade of evil intention from him. Mischief, to be sure (and regularly!), but never the sort of violent evil required to kill in cold blood. I sensed more evil from that rat of Ron Weasley's than I did from Sirius...
I approached him cautiously. He reached out to pet me. I hissed and backed up. He transformed back to his dog form and turned to me questioningly.
And I understood him. Sort of. If he'd turned to a cat I think I would have heard him loud and clear, but I still knew he was asking for help.
Well, I wasn't going to agree to anything just yet. I walked off, holding my tail up. While I decided what to do, I'd just go after that rat again.
I had to think about this one. I could have been wrong about him, after all. There's a first time for everything.
It was a good twelve years before anything changed.
One day, a girl entered the shop with two boys behind her. Something about her reminded me of Lyria a bit; perhaps it was the fluffy hair, for there was no other physical resemblance, or perhaps it was her enchantment with a creature others had nothing but disapproval for. One of the boys looked so familiar... so much like Lyria's friend James...
A RAT!! I lunged at it, paying no attention to the red haired boy who seemed to own him. Rat and boys flew from the store, and only Lyria-like girl (who I learned was named Hermione) remained.
She bought me.
I always did have good luck with girls with fluffy hair.
"No one wanted him," she was telling her friends, clutching me as if she expected me to run away. Well of course no one wanted me! I made myself deliberately unpleasant!! I sniffed the air and immediately felt like I should be on my guard. But why? What shady type were my senses warning me of? The only people I'd been around were Hermione, the redhead, and James- like child.
That rat! It had to be the rat! I wasn't quite sure what was wrong with it, but I knew it wasn't to be trusted almost immediately.
It turned out Hermione was going into her third year at Hogwarts the next day. Funny, Lyria had bought me before her third year as well. History repeating itself... perhaps I should be wary of that redhead, then, if he was anything like James' supposed best friend.
Hogwarts never changes. I noticed that upon returning with Hermione. The building was the same, and though a few of the teachers were different (and mind, not terribly many), things continued as they had for the past thousand some years.
Hermione let me wander pretty freely, which was nice. I started getting in the habit of hunting nights; it was important to stay practiced. I could wind up on my own at any time, as life had taught me more than once...
One night, I was wandering the grounds when I sensed *something* behind me. I turned-
A giant black dog stood there, but I knew it wasn't a dog. It seemed I had encountered the escaped biker jerk... I hissed viciously. An Animagus, was he? That explained the smell of dog.
He stopped, surprised, and transformed back. If I hadn't known from his smell, I never would have known it was him. The dark hair hung matted to his elbows, his eyes no longer laughed, and he looked like he hadn't eaten properly in the twelve years he'd been locked up. He looked like... well, like he'd escaped from prison, I reasoned with myself. And he ought to be there! Killing thirteen people, betraying his two friends and his pregnant fiance... he'd made enough of a mess. I snarled at him, trying to get him to go away.
"I've got enough enemies without a stupid cat after me now too," he muttered hoarsely, sounding nothing like he used to.
I stopped and watching him sit down, the vacant look still in his eyes. I wondered if he had gone crazy. Enough of them do, in that place... and he *had* been there long enough. How he'd even made it that long was mystery enough; perhaps he *had* learned dark powers from You-Know-Who. And however had he managed to escape? Granted, he was bright, but that was supposed to be impossible...
What troubled me was that he had never seemed to be that type. I'd shared a house with him, and I'd never sensed even a shade of evil intention from him. Mischief, to be sure (and regularly!), but never the sort of violent evil required to kill in cold blood. I sensed more evil from that rat of Ron Weasley's than I did from Sirius...
I approached him cautiously. He reached out to pet me. I hissed and backed up. He transformed back to his dog form and turned to me questioningly.
And I understood him. Sort of. If he'd turned to a cat I think I would have heard him loud and clear, but I still knew he was asking for help.
Well, I wasn't going to agree to anything just yet. I walked off, holding my tail up. While I decided what to do, I'd just go after that rat again.
I had to think about this one. I could have been wrong about him, after all. There's a first time for everything.