Don't hate me, you know I love you. I do enough self-hating over this thing anyway. Still, it feels better to write it, so I guess it's a sort of "I love doing it I hate having done it" thing I've got going here. Like a serial killer. . . . Er, just guessing on that last bit. Have fun. ---------------------

The Gryffindor table erupted into the usual delighted cheers, but somehow they seemed a little more enthusiastic, particularly from the more male- oriented sections. Hermione noticed Ron staring openly at the beautiful new girl and snorted, but smiled anyway and cheered as loud as any others. And then the feast started, and everyone watched the new girl, and everyone tried to get her to sit by them, but she sat quietly in solitude at the end of the row etc. etc.

Moving on.

It was several days later, after everyone had settled in and was beginning to settle in to their classes and schedules. Catamalina spent most of her time alone and secluded, studying madly or reading to herself or just staring into the fire or out the window at the slowly turning leaves, despite what seemed like the entire school's unrelenting attempt to be her best friend. She occasionally spoke in her clear, melodic voice, resonant of deep forests and summer evenings and other, equally painful things, to ask questions or comment on things, but for the most part she remained elegant and unearthly and cold.

Until one day. It was a cool day, the sort that falls evenly between summer and autumn but leans on autumn. The sky was a pearly, even gray that diffused the light perfectly across the sloping grounds thinly scattered with mildly colored early-changing leaves. Harry, Ron and Hermione were in the library near a window looking up the necessary information for an unreasonably long report on the effects of transfiguration between species on later behavior patterns. Catamalina was nearby, working on the same project. The late afternoon light, which was slowly turning from gray to gold, glistened offher hair and lit her eyes, which had mysteriously turned deep, ponderous forest green. Her silvery hair was loose that day and looked liquid, moving like a river whenever she tilted her head or raised it from the pages to turn to another section of the tome.

Suddenly she gasped aloud and shuddered, leaning further into the book. She looked so genuinely horrified and afraid that Hermione was moved to ask what was the matter.

"Oh . . . this picture. Here. That's my mother." said Catamalina in a shaky but still the more delicate voice.

"But . . . this book is hundreds of years old. Almost all the books here in the library are. And - Oh my god, what's going on in that picture?"

"She's turning into a silver wolf . . . my gods, this may be how I got my shapeshifting powers! And also it explains why I never really knew her . . . I was told she ran off to get away from my father." explained Catamalina, in an even yet unstable voice, her hands tracing across the page like tracing spiderwebs. Her delicate, tapering ivory fingers shook and gripped the edge of the table, her greenest of green eyes open wide in shock.

"Who's your father, then?" inquired Ron, leaning across the table to see the picture better.

"I . . . I don't know . . . " came the whispered reply from pale lips. "But he's . . . he's . . ." The tone faded away, and Catamalina drew a thin, quivering breath.

Harry saw her in a new light. Certainly she was beautiful and elegant and unattainable, but he contented to watch her only move before. Now he knew something of her past, and knew why she was so silent and solitary. He respected her more than he ever had and resolved inwardly to find out what he could and help her. He looked back up, and instead of seeing an icy statue of silver and ivory set with gems, he saw a girl. A girl with a past, present, and future. A girl in fear of whatever she needed to fear. He would bring her back up, however he could.

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Thus ends Part Deux. Seems like a reasonable stopping point, I suppose. It occurs to me I might need more of those annoying a/n things, like my fabulous reviewer said. I'll fit 'em into the next chapter, I will. Part Three commences at sundown in the Field of Honor. Be there.