Ch.2: Harry- Enter the Lion (Or the kitty)
Hello all! I got my first ever review! I'm so excited. Plus, she said she liked it! Thank you to Velven, you get a cookie! I'm also sorry the first chapter was so short. I'm going to try to make this one longer (keyword, try). !
More than anything in the world, Harry Potter wanted to be an animagus. The very concept that he could have the opportunity to change into an animal, nay, any animal was so alluring that it could almost be called seductive. The idea that for once, in all his years at Hogwarts, that he could be unrecognizable to all the hero- worshippers (especially those confounded Creevey boys), all the hangers-on, all the wannabe death eaters was incredible. But more than all that, Harry Potter wanted something that would bring him just a little closer to his father, James Potter.
So he did something that he only did every so often, and only with Hermione's prodding and nagging. He ventured into madam Pince's fiercely protected lair, the library. A name that struck fear into the hearts of Weasley's everywhere (except maybe Percy).
After hurrying past Madam Pince's suspicious glare, (Potter could only be up to no good coming in here by himself, she thought) Harry seated himself in a shadowy corner and begin the process of finding every book that had ever been written on becoming an animagus.
An hour later Harry was flipping through an enormous tome, "The Art of the Animagus Transformation," he was feeling every so slightly swamped, and ten books later, he had the distinct impression that he was getting nowhere fast. There were enough books in his little cubby to build another, albeit smaller, Hogwarts.
And then, just when hope was only a distant twinkle in the heavens, his bushy-haired, buck-toothed saviour appeared.
"Harry!" Hermione squealed in delight, "you're in the library!"
Harry didn't think he had ever been happier to see Hermione. What a perfect way out of this mess. Hermione could find anything in a twinkling and sort out all the neccesary information.
"Hermione", Harry said, his desperation showing in his voice, "I need some help."
Hermione Granger had always loved Harry, maybe even more than she loved Ron. With Ron, there always seemed to be a little bit of tension between that two, a tension that had orginated in fourth year at the end of the Yule Ball. Hermione knew, even if Ron didn't that his feelings toward her were not precisely platonic. He ahd been fiercly jealous of Viktor Krum, and that made Hermione feel uncomfortable, especially when she was alone with him. With Harry, there had never been that awkwardness. Harry had this lovable little-boy charm that made some girls swoon, others baby him, and still others despise him. Lately, however, Harry had seemed to have aged prematurely since Sirius's death. He smiled rarely and laughed not at all. He lapsed into long silences that worried Hermione and often kept her up into the wee hours of the morning, thinking about how she could possibly comfort him. Whenever she tried, he would push her away sying, 'it's okay 'Mione, I'm alright', and when she looked into his eyes she knew that he wasn't okay, not really.
That was why Hermion studied his eyes so carefully when she neared his table. He seemed happy, and the very fact that her appearance was the cause of his happiness made her heart leap.
"Oh, Harry," she said, with a moist smile,"you're hopeless."
Ron Weasley was getting plastered. He knew he shouldn't, and he knew just as well what Hermione would say if she ever found out. Bet after downing five shots of Ogdens Old Firewhisky, Ron wasn't really certain he gave a damn anymore.
He was quaffing his sixth shot when someone slid into the seat across from him in his booth. Ron stared stupidly at the Slytherin badge across from him.
"Ronald Weasley," the badge said, in an almost insolent fashion,"I'm shocked at you. I thought only Slytherins went out drinking."
Ron shook his head dully. Badge...talk?
"Drowning your sorrows?" Tha badge asked.
"Something like that." Ron's voice slurred.
And what would a fine, young Weasley like yourself have to get drunk about?"
"Life sucks."
"How eloquent," the badge said mockingly, "Didn't your enlightened mother ever tell you that drunkeness is unbecoming? No I suppose not."
"My mother," Ron snorted in derision, "My mother thinks I'm a little boy. She probably is under the impression that I don't even know wht alcohol is, let alone know that I'm getting drunk."
"You poor thing."
"I didn't know that badges could talk..."
A strong hand came up under his chin, forcing his head up.
"Badges can't talk, but I can."
He found himself looking into the wickedly sparkling eyes of Slytherin prefect, Blaise Zabini.
Ron stared.
"You're really shit-faced aren't you?"
"Uhhhh...."
"I see, my Slytherin-ness has leeched your brains. How unfortunate."
"I guess I'm just startled that I would ever have the opprotunity to talk to a Slytherin." Ron shook his fiery head in drunken puzzlement.
"My dear boy! Slytherins and Gryffindors were made for each other! They just hate each other too much to see that."
Blaise's voice lowered to a whisper, as he leaned forward, his sweet- smelling breath nudging the hair on Rons forehead, "But I'm not wilfully blind." He got up then, dragging Ron with him. "Come along, Weasley, so I can show you just how well Slytherins and Gryffindors get along."
And Ron found that he didn't even remotely mid when Blaise lead him back into the castle. And he didn't worry one bit when Blaise slammed him up against the wall of the prefects bathroom and kissed him hard enough to bruise. And after that? Who knew?
God, I can't seem to make these any longer. SIGH You'll have to bear with me. Oh yeah, by the way, this story was my orginal idea. I did not borrow off of Alchemia Dent and Bugland's Bittersweet Potion and the sequel Procul His, they are very good though and I would definatly recommend them. Until next time, cheers! Oh, by the way, I don't know anything about alcohol so don't falme me or kill me in my sleep. My mother will miss me.
Hello all! I got my first ever review! I'm so excited. Plus, she said she liked it! Thank you to Velven, you get a cookie! I'm also sorry the first chapter was so short. I'm going to try to make this one longer (keyword, try). !
More than anything in the world, Harry Potter wanted to be an animagus. The very concept that he could have the opportunity to change into an animal, nay, any animal was so alluring that it could almost be called seductive. The idea that for once, in all his years at Hogwarts, that he could be unrecognizable to all the hero- worshippers (especially those confounded Creevey boys), all the hangers-on, all the wannabe death eaters was incredible. But more than all that, Harry Potter wanted something that would bring him just a little closer to his father, James Potter.
So he did something that he only did every so often, and only with Hermione's prodding and nagging. He ventured into madam Pince's fiercely protected lair, the library. A name that struck fear into the hearts of Weasley's everywhere (except maybe Percy).
After hurrying past Madam Pince's suspicious glare, (Potter could only be up to no good coming in here by himself, she thought) Harry seated himself in a shadowy corner and begin the process of finding every book that had ever been written on becoming an animagus.
An hour later Harry was flipping through an enormous tome, "The Art of the Animagus Transformation," he was feeling every so slightly swamped, and ten books later, he had the distinct impression that he was getting nowhere fast. There were enough books in his little cubby to build another, albeit smaller, Hogwarts.
And then, just when hope was only a distant twinkle in the heavens, his bushy-haired, buck-toothed saviour appeared.
"Harry!" Hermione squealed in delight, "you're in the library!"
Harry didn't think he had ever been happier to see Hermione. What a perfect way out of this mess. Hermione could find anything in a twinkling and sort out all the neccesary information.
"Hermione", Harry said, his desperation showing in his voice, "I need some help."
Hermione Granger had always loved Harry, maybe even more than she loved Ron. With Ron, there always seemed to be a little bit of tension between that two, a tension that had orginated in fourth year at the end of the Yule Ball. Hermione knew, even if Ron didn't that his feelings toward her were not precisely platonic. He ahd been fiercly jealous of Viktor Krum, and that made Hermione feel uncomfortable, especially when she was alone with him. With Harry, there had never been that awkwardness. Harry had this lovable little-boy charm that made some girls swoon, others baby him, and still others despise him. Lately, however, Harry had seemed to have aged prematurely since Sirius's death. He smiled rarely and laughed not at all. He lapsed into long silences that worried Hermione and often kept her up into the wee hours of the morning, thinking about how she could possibly comfort him. Whenever she tried, he would push her away sying, 'it's okay 'Mione, I'm alright', and when she looked into his eyes she knew that he wasn't okay, not really.
That was why Hermion studied his eyes so carefully when she neared his table. He seemed happy, and the very fact that her appearance was the cause of his happiness made her heart leap.
"Oh, Harry," she said, with a moist smile,"you're hopeless."
Ron Weasley was getting plastered. He knew he shouldn't, and he knew just as well what Hermione would say if she ever found out. Bet after downing five shots of Ogdens Old Firewhisky, Ron wasn't really certain he gave a damn anymore.
He was quaffing his sixth shot when someone slid into the seat across from him in his booth. Ron stared stupidly at the Slytherin badge across from him.
"Ronald Weasley," the badge said, in an almost insolent fashion,"I'm shocked at you. I thought only Slytherins went out drinking."
Ron shook his head dully. Badge...talk?
"Drowning your sorrows?" Tha badge asked.
"Something like that." Ron's voice slurred.
And what would a fine, young Weasley like yourself have to get drunk about?"
"Life sucks."
"How eloquent," the badge said mockingly, "Didn't your enlightened mother ever tell you that drunkeness is unbecoming? No I suppose not."
"My mother," Ron snorted in derision, "My mother thinks I'm a little boy. She probably is under the impression that I don't even know wht alcohol is, let alone know that I'm getting drunk."
"You poor thing."
"I didn't know that badges could talk..."
A strong hand came up under his chin, forcing his head up.
"Badges can't talk, but I can."
He found himself looking into the wickedly sparkling eyes of Slytherin prefect, Blaise Zabini.
Ron stared.
"You're really shit-faced aren't you?"
"Uhhhh...."
"I see, my Slytherin-ness has leeched your brains. How unfortunate."
"I guess I'm just startled that I would ever have the opprotunity to talk to a Slytherin." Ron shook his fiery head in drunken puzzlement.
"My dear boy! Slytherins and Gryffindors were made for each other! They just hate each other too much to see that."
Blaise's voice lowered to a whisper, as he leaned forward, his sweet- smelling breath nudging the hair on Rons forehead, "But I'm not wilfully blind." He got up then, dragging Ron with him. "Come along, Weasley, so I can show you just how well Slytherins and Gryffindors get along."
And Ron found that he didn't even remotely mid when Blaise lead him back into the castle. And he didn't worry one bit when Blaise slammed him up against the wall of the prefects bathroom and kissed him hard enough to bruise. And after that? Who knew?
God, I can't seem to make these any longer. SIGH You'll have to bear with me. Oh yeah, by the way, this story was my orginal idea. I did not borrow off of Alchemia Dent and Bugland's Bittersweet Potion and the sequel Procul His, they are very good though and I would definatly recommend them. Until next time, cheers! Oh, by the way, I don't know anything about alcohol so don't falme me or kill me in my sleep. My mother will miss me.