Disclaimer as for other chapters. Thanks to all the fantastic people who took the time to write reviews. Rest assured that I will ferret out and read your stories with interest. Yeah, McGonagall and Hagrid is a bit strange, but I am really interested in the implications for Hermione's magickal relationship with Voldemort, since he is responsible for her existence. There must be some kind of responsibility thing happening. And I know that magickal is usually spent magical, but sometimes I just get into weirdo hippie mode, and this is one of them.


Chapter Four - Hermione gets Queasy and Decides Not to Go to The Library.

"Hagrid's been acting strangely for the last few days." noted Harry thoughtfully, as they strolled across the grounds. "He wasn't at breakfast this morning, or yesterday, and he's been wandering around like he's in a trance."
"I hope he's not shrinking." chortled Ron. "Imagine if Hagrid and Hermione swapped sizes!" He hastily changed his chortle into a cough as Hermione glared at him. They reached the hut before the argument could go any further, much to Harry's relief. He knocked on the door, and inside there was a shriek, the sound of shattering china, and loud barking. Hagrid opened the door just the tiniest crack, and peeped round the edge.
"Oh, it's yeh. Gave me a fright. What d'yeh want?"
"We've come to visit." explained Harry, a little surprised. Hagrid flushed and shuffled his feet, avoiding their gaze. He looked back over his shoulder, flushed a little, and opened the door reluctantly.
"Ok, then." he mumbled, still looking anywhere but at them, his whole appearance suggestive of a man feeling the earth fall away from under his guilty feet. After glancing curiously at him, Harry, Ron and Hermione walked in. And stopped dead.
Sitting at Hagrid's table with a cup of tea was Professor McGonagall, her robes unbuttoned over a dress and her hair loose down her back. She smiled at them without a trace of embarassment.
"Well, Hagrid, anyone would think you were ashamed of me." she reproved him gently. Hagrid sat down next to her, still with a crumbling precipice expression.
"Sit down an' have some tea." he muttered to Harry, Ron and Hermione, who sank rather nervelessly into chairs and clutched the mugs of tea that McGonagall magicked up for them. "Not used teh this kinda thing." he mumbled again.
When Harry, Ron and Hermione left, half an hour later, they were still stunned. The news that there was 'somethin' goin' on' between McGonagall and Hagrid, as Hagrid put it, had left them speechless. They collapsed into chairs in the Common Room.
"I don't think I can cope with any more surprises for a while." said Hermione faintly. "I'll just wait for the meeting instead of doing any more research." Ron heaved a sigh of relief. He hadn't enjoyed an evening spent poring over registers to discover information that would, he was sure, prove to be, at best, uncomfortable.

With this resolution, Hermione did no more research. The night before the meeting Ron watched idly as Hermione again magickally lengthened her robes. She was still growing, and Ron now had to look up slightly at her, which galled him immensely. He prayed fervently for his next growth spurt to hit him. As he watched Hermione, he suddenly realised who she reminded him of. He blinked incredulously. He was seeing things.
"I wonder what McGonagall will say tomorrow?" she wondered aloud, for a moment looking like she was on very uncertain ground.
"Hermione!" gasped Ron. "D'you know who you look like?" Hermione looked over at him, a very severe expression on her face at being interrupted. Ron goggled.
"It's too insane," he breathed, "but you look just like a cross between McGonagall and Hagrid." There was a seconds silence.
"Nonsense." replied Hermione firmly. "I look like my mother." Harry gaped at Ron.
"What did you say that for?" he asked. Ron shrugged his shoulders.
"I dunno." he gestured toward Hermione vaguely. "The hair, the eyes, the apprehensive expression..." he looked at Hermione again, who was looking back at him furiously. "And that expression! It's just like McGonagall's!"
"What rubbish." dismissed Hermione with a rather forced laugh. She gathered up her things to leave the room. "You're letting your imagination run away with you, Ron." Hermione marched off, her back very straight, her hair waving wildly with indignation.