With them was Seamus Finnegan, and they were looking quite chummy. I've already been replaced, she thought sadly. Head Girl isn't all it's cracked up to be. She had been thrilled at the prestige, the responsibility, the trust placed in her. She should have realized it when Ron and Harry seemed unusually stiff around her in those first weeks, never up to their usual jokes or pranks. They must have been afraid she would have to use her authority and punish them.
Without that easy camaraderie, and with Hermione's sudden long hours in the dungeons with the long-hated Professor Snape, the three friends had grown apart. They gave her apologetic glances now and again when they passed in the halls, but it was obvious that she was now irreversibly "them" instead of "us". She never would have thought it of "noble" Gryffindors to give up a friend so easily, but apparently Ron and Harry had their own agenda.
And too, she still had gotten no brilliant inspirations for a directional to add to the Memory Erasing Potion, and she was a little discouraged now that its base of Forgetfulness Potion was only a week from being complete. She and Snape had already had their work session this evening. True, since she had found Snape's notes, she had spent most of her spare time studying those instead of research ideas, but Snape would be suspicious if she suddenly gave up now. She could imagine the scathing contempt of his two wasted months for her to suddenly say she couldn't and had no clue. It didn't indicate much for her mind or maturity; that was for certain. Well, the moon was full tonight, and that was needed for the Animagus transition. She'd do it tonight, and then resume work on the potion. After all, there would be no harm in asking him if he had any ideas. He was nowhere near as contemptuous in the workroom as he was in class, and willingly answered her questions and critiqued her ideas.
He had of course done the real backbreaking work of researching the magic of Animagism. That was the most time-consuming element: that and making sure one had the necessary power. That was probably why the Marauders had taken three years to do it. They had gotten the idea as second years, after all, and there wasn't a second year out there that was a good enough witch or wizard to attempt this. As a seventh year and a quite powerful witch in her own right, she knew she could do it. All she had to do was follow Snape's notes.
She finished her pasty and excused herself, murmuring some faint excuse of studying for the test in Ancient Runes tomorrow. Professor McGonagall gave her a look of approval for that. She had done all her studying that afternoon, of course. Quietly she headed up to her room and withdrew the notes from where they were hidden behind her mirror.
A faint queasy feeling came over her. If she failed in mid-process, she was done for. This was an all-or-nothing situation; a sort she had always shunned. If Snape had the courage to turn against Voldemort, knowing he'd be killed if he was caught, she thought with determination, you can have the nerve to risk your neck a little for this. After all, what you're intending to do with it is far more dangerous. She nodded decisively and began a quick review.
He had listed various routes to Animagism. He had probably used Salazar Slytherin's Shapeshifter's Potion, naturally. But she didn't think she could steal enough phoenix ash and zebra hair from his stores to make that, if she could even have found it on his shelves. She had barely found the boomslang skin and horn of a bicorn second yearas it was. Since the thefts from his stores of Barty Crouch, Jr. in her fourth year, Snape had made his system all the more difficult to decipher to anyone but himself to deter those with inclinations to filch. The foreign labels were new since second year; that was for certain. She also didn't think several other routes were plausible: the magic being rather obsolete, and the idea of just sitting and down and going at it without any aid was quite frankly foolish. She had settled on the Amorphous Charm: she had always excelled at Charms.
She took a deep breath and sat on the bed, drawing her wand nervously. Unicorn tail hair and apple wood: there were smudges and fingerprints on it, she noted. Polishing them off quickly, she cleared her throat, and pointed her wand at herself and said in a near-whisper the word committing her to this, for well or ill: "Amorphio."
Crookshanks sauntered back into Hermione's room, satisfied after having caught two of the chattering mice down in the kitchens. They reminded him too much of that nasty rat-human, Scabbers, from four years ago. He recalled with pleasure helping the dog Animagus Black catch him, at least temporarily. He had known there was something wrong with the rat the moment he laid eyes on him in the pet shop.
He stepped into the room and his hackles immediately rose, and he bared his teeth and hissed at the intruder sitting on Hermione's bed, looking dazed. Get lost or I'll rip you to pieces! Nobody would harm Hermione while he was around, and he knew there were more than a few animals working for the Dark side on behalf of their human masters. What would they want with Hermione? Especially since she wasn't connected to the Potter boy any longer?
The peregrine falcon turned to him in shock, staring dumbly. Fierce bird of prey my hairballs, he thought, slinking towards it for the pounce. Nothing more than a big and overconfident pigeon when you get down to it. He crouched, ready to spring on it. Tell your master this is what happens to those who meddle with-- he snarled.
Crooky! it shouted, his mind automatically translating the screeches and chirps to words. It's me, Hermione! Only Hermione called him "Crooky", which was faintly embarrassing.
He glowered at the bird. What did your neighbor down the street try to do to me this past summer, if you are Hermione? It was humiliating to recall, but it would definitely prove it was her. He needed something that wasn't common knowledge.
She tried to put a bonnet on you and put you in her cradle as her "baby", Hermione laughed. I can hear you talk… she said in amazement.
Of course I can talk, he said impatiently. You might have warned me that you were going to try this Animagus bit tonight--I thought you might have been someone else. I would have had you in pieces before you could do a thing.
I know, she said, her tone sheepish. It just didn't occur to me that you'd--ah--understand. Now she sounded very embarrassed. She sighed, stretching her wings. Drat. Apparently this doesn't come with the normal falcon knowledge. I'll have to learn to fly. Maybe Severus' Tosca will teach me…I assume she can talk too?
Of course she can. We can all talk. You humans just don't speak our tongue normally, he said patiently, leaping up onto the bed and sitting beside her. Peregrine falcon: very Gryffindor of you. The "noble bird of royalty" and all that.
More useful to spy than being a Gryffindor lion, she said agreeably. Let me try and change back here, in case anybody comes calling. Not that they have this year, she said moodily. Her shape began to blur, like water rippling smoothly over rocks.
A few long minutes and she was Hermione again, with the familiar wavy brown hair and keen brown eyes. "I'm exhausted," she muttered, collapsing on the bed.
Can you still hear me?
"Quite clearly. Well, wouldn't Professor Snape love this?" she chuckled. "I'll have to prove myself without letting him know it's me," she frowned. "Else it's years of detention." Crookshanks cuddled up next to her.
I'd suggest that you talk to Tosca about that. She's quite a smart bird, if a bit full of herself. The two of them had somewhat of a mutual disdain, he seeing her as a glorified and pompous pigeon, she seeing him as little more than an overgrown and arrogant little prey-mammal. Both claimed that they could hunt the other down with hardly any effort. Wouldn't be surprised if she's out to help her master; Heaven knows he needs all the help he can get, he added in amusement.
"Very funny, Crookshanks. He's had a difficult life, I think. And he's certainly treating me better than my so-called friends who abandoned me the moment they thought I might stop their bloody precious merriment. But yes, she would be good to talk to," she said thoughtfully. "I'll want to do the transition successfully a few times at least before I go to her, though. Well, I'll practice, and talk to her over the weekend." She turned to him and said, "Do you think she purposely made me find those notes, perhaps?"
Wouldn't doubt it for an instant, he replied dryly. He noticed her eyelids drooping after the extreme exertion of the magic. Good night, Hermione, and good luck. With that, he headed towards Severus Snape's quarters to go forewarn the big white falcon and perhaps, horrors of horrors, even plead with her for assistance. After all, she did belong to the man who was quite a match for Hermione, unlike those prats, Harry and Ron.
Tosca landed softly on the perch insider her mews, content. It had been good hunting tonight: she had caught one of Hogwarts' fat, lazy pigeons with almost too much ease. That plus the fact she knew that if she wheedled with Severus, he'd feed her as well made her mood quite good.
Oi! Tosca! came a faint meowing from outside the door.
She glanced impatiently towards the door. Crookshanks…is that you? What do you want, you overgrown mouse? She tolerated him because he belonged to Severus' would-be mate. Well, mate if she had anything to say about it.
Did you make her find those notes of his about Animagism? If you did, bravo; it's snapped her out of her slump quite nicely.
She flew over to the doorknob and carefully turned it with her claws, letting the ginger-furred cat in. She managed it? she asked the cat.
Indeed she did, he replied quite smugly. I think those two are a good match, and if they learn to go spy together, it should only help, hmm?
So did you come only to give me accolades? My my, what an ego boost. She studied him. So, what form has she taken? Something disgustingly noble and bold, and very probably useless as a spy, I imagine. Gryffindors are not known for their practicality: they're mostly annoyingly flamboyant.
Quite practical, although it is noble and bold. Peregrine falcon. Tosca stared at him and laughed. She couldn't have asked for Hermione Granger to have a better Animagus form.
So I presume you're here to ask me to teach her, as she won't be able to fly and such?
Yes, but how did you know that?
I had to teach Severus all that. He's actually a gyrfalcon. Both of them chortled, that only reinforcing the opinion of the rightness of those two for each other. If the two's own spirits could guide them to becoming animals so closely related, that was good indication. So she'll be dropping by to ask my help, eh? Don't mind if I pretend we never had this conversation, do you?
Not a bit. She was quite pleased, indeed. She could train the girl to replace her as Severus' partner with nary a hitch. After all, Severus would never take her on if he knew it was Hermione Granger. She'd figure out how to make certain he didn't know. But Hermione would be much better at it than herself: she was tired of sitting and listening to the humans plotting idiocies when she'd much rather spend the pleasure of a lovely evening flying free. If Hermione wanted to do all that, more power to her.
Crookshanks sauntered back towards the door, tail held jauntily up. He looked back over his shoulder at her. Thank you. But you know something truly frightening? If we do get those two together; that does mean we'll have to live together. He showed his teeth in jest, and she replied by raising one foot with its sharp talons. Well, it's the white flag of truce for now, he purred, slipping out the door.
Three minutes later, Severus came in, teeth gritted and clutching his arm. She sighed. Another night out it is, she thought wearily.
