The Daily Prophet

Late last night Minister Rufus Scrimgeour's publicist released a new statement regarding plans for action on control over magical creatures and beasts throughout England, proving himself, once more, a firm and trust-worthy leader as he responded to the cries of the magical population.

"As many know," he roared to a crowd of ten thousand strong supporters, "magical beasts have for long been avid supporters of You-Know-Who! It is time we take action against the most ignored aspect of His superstructure! I am now calling for the grouping and tagging of all beasts, and to keep them in one place where they can do no harm to the wizarding community. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am suggesting a coop to prevent the union of magical beasts and the Dark Lord! No exceptions will be made for any beast. They should each in turn be treated with the same amount of suspicion and mistrust as Death Eaters. This is a time for change." The speech was greeted with raucous cheers…

When things go horridly horribly wrong, many people will blame it on fluke and accident. Hermione Granger begs to differ- one either does something right, or they do it incorrectly, and Hermione just realized she must have done something very wrong (though she was still unsure how). Not even a moment ago Hermione had been crouched over a fat volume on the absolutely captivating history of the use of beetle eyes in transformation and mind-addling potions, but when she raised her head to rest her eyes she found herself sitting in a plush and tattered crimson armchair across from a rickety desk decorated with a teetering pile of sheets and important looking coffee-stained documents. Blinking, she turned her head towards the soft clicking of an opening door.

"Hum, Miss Granger," a clipped tenor voice sighed. Hermione's bottom leapt out of her seat at the unexpected voice behind her. "Right on schedule, I see…"

An ancient snotty looking witch with a fat head that seemed to be attached to her small torso with absolutely no sign of a neck waltzed into the room and imperiously took the seat across from her. Her thick black hair was in a chin-length bob that reminded Hermione horribly of Pansy Parkinson. Seeming impervious to Hermione's incredulity, she peered down her long nose at her. "Do you fancy a cup of tea?"

Staring at the stout woman, all Hermione seemed to be capable of was to merely ogle the woman for a couple moments. "No, thank you," Hermione finally managed to force out, blinking at her confusedly. Still unable to stop staring at the unfamiliar woman, Hermione said, "Er- not to be rude, but who are you?"

"I am Madam Plott, and I will be your guidance witch for the duration of your stay at the Magical Beasts coop. Now," she began shuffling through the stack of papers on her desk, muttering to herself. "Hermione Granger…" she mumbled, scratching a mole on her chin thoughtfully, completely oblivious to the utterly befuddled witch sitting across from her. "Ah- yes, Hermione Granger, born September 18, 1980 at precisely one o' four in the morning, seventh year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, excellent transcripts-"

"Pardon me," Hermione interrupted primly. Madam Plott shot her an irritated look over the yellowing papers. "Where am I?"

"Must I repeat myself?" The woman snapped.

"Just one more time, if you will," Hermione said testily.

Sighing, Madam Plott said, "You're at the Magical Beasts coop."

"And," Hermione said, "why am I here?"

Looking thoroughly exasperated, Madam Plott said impatiently, "Well, you are a magical beast, aren't you?"

Hermione stared at the woman, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, utterly bewildered at the words that had just come out of the other woman's mouth. "A magical beast?" She suddenly scoffed. "I should certainly hope not-"

"You are Hermione Granger, correct?" Madam Plott barked.

"Well, yes, but I am no magical beast-"

The other woman snapped her head downwards to peer at the documents in her leathery hands, and scanned her beady black eyes over it impatiently. Suddenly, comprehension dawning on her features (At least, Hermione through wryly, someone knew what was going on), Madam Plott said in an unexpectedly maternal voice (despite her ceaselessly cold eyes), "Oh, you don't know, poor thing… unregistered too- we'll have to take care of that. I think I'll schedule a registration meeting for tomorrow afternoon with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," Madam Plott tapped her nose thoughtfully, and finished reading the paper. "I'm not sure if I should be the one informing you this, Hermione, but it's such an important matter…"

"I'm terribly sorry, Madam Plott, but I'm quite certain I would notice if I were a magical beast." Hermione said as patiently as she could to the clearly delusional woman.

"Well," she said, letting out a slight bark of laughter. "I would be surprised if you did."

Hermione, feeling as though this was a direct attack at her intelligence, said indignantly, "I'm certain I would notice-"

"No, no," Madam Plott said impatiently, "you don't understand- you're only a descendent of one, so it's near impossible to tell at your earliest developing stages."

"Well then," Hermione said edgily, irritated that this meeting was a complete waste of time when she could still be reading that wonderful book on beetle eyes. "Then if I'm not really a magical beast, what am I doing here?"

Shaking her head exasperatedly, Madam Plott acted as though she were speaking with someone very daft. "Being a descendent of a magical beast is enough to classify you as a beast, Hermione. Unfortunately that's exactly what you are- you may have the manifestation of a being, but if you are goaded enough you could have dangerous reactions… yes, it says here you have indeed inherited many traits and abilities of the Sphinx that will most certainly rear up during the next few months- including quite the temper… I'm afraid that you are indeed a beast Miss Granger."

"A Sphinx?" Hermione demanded sharply. "Well, that's absolutely ludicrous…"

A native to Egypt, the Sphinx is a beast with the ability of human speech. This particular beast has the head of a human and the body of a lion, and has a love for puzzles and riddles. However the Sphinx has violent tendencies and if a riddle is answered incorrectly it will strike the witch or wizard who had the idiocy to voice the incorrect answer. The Sphinx is often used by wizarding folk to guard treasures…

"Not quite," Madam Plott said, looking at Hermione thoughtfully.

"What?" Hermione snapped. "Do you see me killing people if they get something wrong on a bit of homework?"

Ignoring this comment, Madam Plott said, "As you grow older you will quickly develop characteristics increasingly more like a Sphinx; in character and physical apparel alike. I imagine your stay here at the coop will accelerate this development. You even look like your ancestor, you know. A most remarkable resemblance…" she said thoughtfully. Hermione glared at the other woman heatedly. What sort of hoax was this, anyway?

"What- I have a tail?" Hermione snapped sarcastically.

Ignoring her, Madam Plott ruffled through Hermione's file and pulled out a dog-eared photo of a fierce looking Sphinx who was pacing back and forth and sneered out of the constraints of the photograph at her. She looked exactly like Hermione (save for the lion's body), from the bushy mane, to the small nose, high cheekbones, prominent forehead and sharp gleam in her narrowed eyes…

"Cripes Hermione!" Ron shouted excitedly from where he was sitting as he read a book on magical creatures for Care of Magical Creatures. "Look at this picture! You look exactly like this Sphinx, 'Mione- the one who killed the most muggles-"

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione snapped. "You're so rude."

Harry inched over to look at the picture in the book Ron was holding, and shot a grin at Hermione. "He's right, you know…"

"Suppose I am a Sphinx," Hermione said slowly as she stared bewilderdly at the photograph, hardly daring to believe it. "What am I doing here, anyway? I didn't know they had a coop for Magical creatures. I just thought they had to be registered; isn't this a bit... barbaric?"

Madam Plott looked sad all of a sudden. "Well, it's just been opened this summer. The new Minister for Magic insisted on it- it's not secret You-Know-Who has an affinity for taking dark creatures onto his side- oh, not that I think you're likely to be in league with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Hermione!" she added at the scandalized look on Hermione's face. "But the minister insists that no exceptions are made. But I promise that I'll make your stay as comfortable as possible- do you trust me, Hermione?" Hermione didn't, actually, but she didn't say so.

"Exactly how long will I have to stay here?" Hermione asked, feeling defeated as she realized she would not be able to escape her current predicament for the time-being.

"Until You-Know-Who falls from power, I'm afraid," she said sympathetically.

Eyes widening in horror, Hermione said suddenly, "But what about my schooling? How I be able to finish my transition into a healthy, competent witch-"

"There are some skilled inhabitants of the community that will be able to teach school-age beasts-"

"I'm not a beast!" Hermione suddenly bristled, desperatly holding onto the edges of the armchair she was seated in.

And what about Harry?! Hermione's brain shrieked manically and desperately, her vision blurring at the corners. Had she not given her word to him to help him through possibly the most important months of his life as he continued to find the remaining Horcruxes? She couldn't leave that up to Ron, she had to find her way out of this, she had to help with the most important pursuit of the twentieth century, there was no way she could be out of control like this…

"Of course not, dear," Madam Plott said absently, interrupting her thoughts. "At any rate I have a six o'clock appointment, so I'll get Ogg to show you to your shared living quarters-"

"I have to share living quarters with a beast?" Hermione asked faintly.

Madam Plott nodded the affirmative, standing up to her full height of four feet. "Well, of course- there is hardly enough room for everyone- you'll be sharing quarters with three others- I believe you have met them if you are a student at Hogwarts, so it shouldn't be a problem…"

"Not a problem?" Hermione asked wildly, her voice cracking. "I'm not even a beast!"

"Miss Granger," Madam Plott said firmly, her patience seemingly faltering as she narrowed her eyes. "You are part Sphinx, and therefore I-"

"But what about my family? My friends?" she asked hysterically. What about Harry?

"Letters will be sent to them," she said briskly, standing up from her seat.

"But- but- what about-"

"That's all being taken care of," she said, pulling Hermione to her feet. "I will be sending someone to your home tomorrow morning to collect your belongings…"

"I don't understand!" Hermione wailed.

And as Madam Plott pushed her out of the small office into a dark corridor beyond where a large troll-like man with a square shaped head and long stiff limbs was waiting and slammed the door in her face, Hermione burst into tears, still as confused about her entire predicament as she was when she had arrived there seven minutes ago.

A/N: Review ya'll!