Title: Full Moon Rising

Author: daemonwolf

Rating: PG-13

Notes: Surprise! Guess who's back! And with a brand-y new chapter, too. I'm actually surprised this chapter is getting written so early (in my terms, not yours obviously), what with the death of my principal (which some of you might already know about if you bother to read the bios) and some other miscellaneous crap that's been going on. But I digress. To the disclaimers!

Special Disclaimer: Morgan Fey is mine, as are Onyx and Raven, also called Munin, although the name itself and history behind it belongs to Norse mythology. The idea of the pard belongs to Laurell K. Hamilton, though she may have gotten it from the actual definition of a leopard group, I don't know. However, as it stands, the K'hakra (pronounced: Kah-HA-kra), the Ni'ix (pronounced: NY-ix), and the idea of the original Animagus, as well as any of the dozen other small things you don't recognize are all products of my own imagination, and may not be used without my permission, or the permission of my muse.

EXTRA-IMPORTANT NOTE! Down at the bottom of this chapter I've a question for you lot what read my fic. Please please PLEASE read it! I could really use your opinions on this matter! Thank you…

Random question: Why have I got Monty Python and the Holy Grail and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead! running through my head? I keep thinking "Camelot! Camelot! … (insert silly song) … On second thought, let's not go to Camelot. 'Tis a silly place." On top of that, Gary Oldman and Tim Roth keep playing Questions in my head. "D'you want to play questions?" sighs. On with the show!

Full Moon Rising

Chapter Ten: Hogwarts! or The Questions Game

The weeks passed too quickly for Harry's taste. He'd kept busy, talking to his animals whenever he had a chance just so he could become acclimated to the little bundle of emotions in the back of his head. By the time three weeks had passed, Harry didn't have to concentrate in order to tell what Onyx was passively thinking. This also meant the cat didn't need to 'send' her emotions across the bond if she wanted something, which in turn created a slave out of Harry for a while, until he figured out that he didn't need to run to his pet's bidding every time she felt a twinge of sadness. For what, Harry could not figure out, but after he came away bloody when he tried to force a toy on Onyx to cheer her up, he learned not to bother her when she was in one of her 'moods'.

He also worked with Munin during that time, bonding more crudely with the bird than he had with Onyx, but still becoming more attuned to the bird's needs and desires and by month's end, Harry could anticipate either animal's needs—a fact which he was quite proud of.

When Harry wasn't putting his animals through their paces, he worked on himself. He knew already that sometimes his eyes changed color and he grew fur(!) of all things. No matter what anybody said about his status as wizard and child-savior of the Wizarding World, Harry had a bit more than a hunch that his physical changes were not at all normal. Which was why, after every training session with his animals, Harry plopped himself down on his bed and stared hard into the mirror opposite it, willing his eyes to change, his teeth to lengthen—anything at all to happen. Unfortunately, he'd been less than successful, though his eyes did seem to leak toward the familiar yellow-gold occasionally—but Harry figured that was only because he became increasingly frustrated and angry at his lack of any success whatsoever than actual gaining of skill.

Toward the end of his tenure at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry usually left off his daily staring sessions after a half-hour and journeyed outside the tavern to the book store. He quickly got into a habit where he'd find a quiet place in the back of the store and read, instead of buying any of the interesting-looking books to take back to the tavern with him. He learned as his visits to the store became more and more frequent that most of the interesting-looking books were not, and was therefore grateful he'd left of purchasing the book until he could forget what time it was while reading the aforementioned novel. In this way, he settled on several books—one on Animagi that reminded him of Morgan, though the Animagi in the book were completely different; they actually turned into animals, instead of simply conversing with them. Two others that caught his eye were on the subject of concealment charms, though he only ended up purchasing the one that was on basic concealment—it read more like a lady's guide for concealing unflattering marks and blemishes on the skin, which was what Harry thought he needed as he was quickly becoming annoyed at the cries of "Mr. Potter!" every time he left his room. He looked into another book on Shapeshifting, but it only seemed concerned with how to spot a shapeshifter and how to capture one if it came into your neighborhood. He did, however purchase one volume on rare magical creatures; he'd found some information on magical panthers and thought the book might come in handy if he met any other magical beasts while at Hogwarts.

When he became bored with his books, Harry often took a walk up to Ollivander's and had tea with the old man, as he found him a fascinating conversationalist, especially where wands were concerned. "Your wand especially has an interesting history, my boy," Ollivander began one rainy afternoon as Harry curled up in the armchair opposite Ollivander's, Onyx purring loudly from the rug on the floor in front of a large hearth where a fire roared merrily. "That wand of yours is not, as a matter of fact, one of mine."

Curious, Harry asked, "How do you know?"

"Because, my boy, and this is rather embarrassing to admit," Ollivander winked at Harry. "As a wand-maker I have to specialize in certain cores, otherwise my magic would be unable to build any wand—I see I've lost you." Harry nodded, confused. "The way wand-making works is by using a bit of the builder's magic on the wand as sort of a… oh, what's the muggle term? Goo? Glue? Ah, that's it. As I said before, my magic acts as a glue between the core and the wand-wood, bonding them together permanently. Now, in order for this bonding to work, the builder's magic must be tuned to that specific core. Otherwise, the components will just explode! That's why I can only work with specific materials, and werewolf heartstring is not one of them.

"Your wand," Ollivander continued, "came from the mountainous region around Bulgaria. I always make certain to keep one or two exotic wands around the shop, in case any such as yourself should wander in. The maker of that wand was a werewolf, himself, and used his own heartstrings in his wands—no, no, he's not dead! We wand-makers would quickly run out of materials if every time we needed a heartstring we had to kill a dragon or a werewolf! There's a method—I'm sure you wouldn't be interested—we use to summon the heartstring from a subject. It's quite painless, I assure you.

"In any case, your wand was one of the first he created, and therefore is one of the most powerful. You see, boy, when a wand-maker first begins creating wands, he works with one core alone for several years before working with a new one. And then he uses that new core to the exclusion of all others for a few years. The cycle continues until the wand-maker figures out his best cores and then he will mix and match between those few cores. But I've kept you for too long. It's past time you were back at the Cauldron. Farewell for now, young Potter!"

So it was that the day to leave for King's Cross Station arrived. Harry soon discovered that he was one of those people, who liked to pack everything five dozen bazillion times (each time a different way) before he was happy. After the five dozen bazillion-and-first time, however, Onyx finally tired of watching her master repeat the same process over and over and promptly lay down on top of Harry's trunk, glaring at him and growling menacingly if he dared take a step toward it before Tom was ready to take Harry to King's Cross.

As ten o'clock rolled around, Tom busied himself dismissing his customers for the morning, telling them he would return by five o'clock that evening. The more stubborn drunkards he tossed out the back alleyway with a well-placed banishing spell. Tom counted himself lucky that business was so slow this late in the season. None of his rooms had been rented, bar Harry's of course, so he had no one to worry about for the day. As the final drunk stumbled outside the tavern mumbling slurred threats to the effect of, "Ne'er cummin' ba' 'ere 'm I. Nope. Bamned dertanders, alwehs makin' meh leaf. Ow! Merlin b'damned! Yowch!" (The unfortunate drunk had the misfortune to step on an alley cat's tail, which made for a very unhappy kitty.), Tom yelled up the staircase to Harry that he would be ready to leave in a few moments.

Upstairs, Harry yelled back that he had heard, and moved to cajole Onyx off his trunk. "Please girl? I promise I won't open it, I just need to take it downstairs." Onyx glared balefully at Harry, promising pain for a long time to come if he did dare to open his trunk before they arrived at Hogwarts. Harry sent reassurances across the bond between them until Onyx finally relented. With a sigh of relief Harry started tugging his trunk down the stairs to where Tom was waiting. Harry had to make one more trip upstairs for his backpack and his creatures' respective cages before they were all ready to go. Munin found a perch on Harry's shoulder, while Onyx chose to curl up inside Harry's bag, as long as he left the zipper partway open so she could stick her head out if she so cared to.

Outside the tavern, Tom had summoned the Dae Bus for their use and was currently hauling Harry's trunk inside the vomit yellow double decker. Harry followed shortly thereafter and thus the journey began. The Dae Bus made five more stops to pick up other children like Harry who had no other way to get to King's Cross before finally pulling up next to a secret Wizarding entrance to the train station. It wouldn't do for the Muggles to see the Dae Bus—they might faint for the shock!

In no time at all, Harry found himself saying goodbye to Tom outside the barrier between tracks 9 and 10 and steeling himself for the trip across it. Tom had mentioned that all he had to do was run at the thing and he would find himself at Platform 9 ¾, but Harry was dubious about such a method of travel. He sighed, it was now or never. If he couldn't get past a simple barrier, imagine how the Wizarding world would feel toward their so-called savior. The Boy-Who-Lived-Only-To-Run-Away-In-Fright-Of-A-Simple-Magical-Doorway, indeed!

Harry banished all thoughts of failure from his head and started his trolley forward. About halfway to the barrier he hit a dead run and closed his eyes tightly, expecting a collision. The collision did occur, just not the way he thought it would. Instead of bouncing off a brick wall, Harry found himself following his trolley to the ground, and opened his eyes just in time to kiss it. "Ow," he muttered fervently. He'd have a bruise there come morning. A similar "ow" came from the area around the other trolley. Surprised, Harry sat up. Too quickly! He thought, holding his head. He was surprised to see a girl sitting in a similar position on the other side of his trolley.

"Um… sorry about that," Harry offered as he stood up slowly, still holding his head. He smiled apologetically and held out his free hand to help the girl up.

She looked at him appraisingly with narrowed lavender eyes. "You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

Harry's smile faltered and he lowered the offered appendage slowly as a grimace stole across his face instead. "Yeah, I'm him. What of it?"

The girl shrugged. "No offence meant, mate, I was only curious."

Harry shook his head then grimaced again, this time in physical pain. "Sorry. All summer it's been 'Oh, Harry!' this and 'Is that you, Mr. Potter?' that. I'm sick of it, frankly. Almost makes me regret—" he thought about that for a second. "Know what? Never mind. Just being able to do this," he spread his arms wide as if to encompass the entire Wizarding World, "is worth any amount of annoyance that this stupid fame has brought me."

The girl, still seated ignominiously amidst the fallen packages of Harry's trolley, applauded slowly. "Deep thoughts for such a young boy," she stated, grinning to take the bite out of her words. "Now that you're done speechifying, how's about helping a girl up?" She held out her hands, pantomiming a young child demanding her parents pick her up.

Harry blushed. "Sorry." He grasped both her hands and hauled her to her feet.

"Thanks," the girl replied. "By the way, I'm Guinevere. Gwen, to my friends. Who're you?"

Harry was slightly taken aback by the odd girl, though he hid his surprise immediately. She was… different, in a way, not like he was, of course, but still. Something about her was inherently wrong. He made a mental note to study her later, then realized she was still waiting for a response. "Harold. I'm kinda short on friends, though, so I guess you could just stick with Harry. Everybody else does."

Gwen leveled intense lavender eyes at the boy, studying. Harry felt vaguely like he was a slab of meat being scrutinized by a hungry feline.

She snapped out of her semi-trance a moment later, and promptly informed him that 'Harry' didn't suit him at all. "It's far too mundane a name for you. You're exotic, like a wolf or a bird of prey. And if you stand like this—" Gwen grabbed hold of Harry's hand and swung him about so he faced her in profile, silhouetted by the sun on his far side. "You look even less human. More like a hawk with those eyes…" her own violet orbs widened as she contemplated. "Definitely more like a hawk. I've got the perfect name for you. Kneel."

"What?" Harry stared uncomprehendingly at the strange girl, who had whipped out her wand.

"You heard me, boy. Kneel!" She brandished the wand at him threateningly. "Or I'll hex your toes off your feet and make you wear them as ears!"

"Alright, alright," Harry grumbled, getting down on one knee in front of her. A passerby cocked her head in confusion at what looked to her like a shot-gun proposal in miniature. I'll never understand children these days.

Oblivious to the curious stares she was receiving, Gwen tapped her wand lightly once on each of Harry's shoulders. "By Merlin and the Gods above, and through the power invested in me by my mother and father through their actions eleven and one-half years ago, I do strip thee of thy present name Harry, and bestow upon thee a new one more fitting to one of your ilk. Arise, Hawk, and answer no more to your former title." With her final words she wove a figure eight through the air above the newly dubbed 'Hawk's head and punctuated it by stabbing once through the middle of each circle, before sheathing her wand with a flourish.

Hawk remained in his position for some time, thinking and trying to shake off the feeling that, although Gwen's 'ceremony' had been both impromptu and childish, something had happened so that he was no longer 'Harry' Potter. He rose with a shrug a moment later, shoving his thoughts to the very rear of his mind. Gwen was staring at him oddly again. "I s'pose I should say 'thanks'?"

Gwen shrugged. "Harry was a stupid name. I gave you a better one. Now, c'mon, Hawk, we're gonna miss the train!"

Bemused, Hawk gathered up his supplies and trolley and followed Gwen onto the train, clutching the backpack with Onyx in it, who was still voicing her indignation at being an unwilling participant in Hawk's mishap. Munin had simply taken to the skies as Hawk fell, and so was none the worse for wear, but he insisted on following Hawk onto the train instead of perching as he normally did on the boy's shoulder.

On the train, Gwen beckoned to him from an empty compartment near the rear of the car. "In here, Hawk!" Hawk dutifully made his way down the car, doing his level best to ignore the whispers emanating from the compartments before his. With a sigh of relief, he finally reached Gwen's compartment and dropped his bag on the seat opposite her, eliciting another growl of indignation from his feline. Gwen glanced curiously at the bag and the bird who had found a perch on top of the baggage ledge above the seats. "I thought we could only bring one animal?"

Hawk shrugged. "I'm the exception. I was shopping in Diagon Alley with Hagrid and he bought me Munin—that's the raven—without my knowledge and I had already chosen Onyx—she's the cat—as my pet-to-be."

Gwen scooted over in the seat and took a peek into Onyx's bag. "She's beautiful," she breathed. "Can you let her out?" Hawk nodded and opened the zipper on the bag fully, revealing the feline within.

Onyx leaped out of the puddle of fabric that was the unzipped pack and trotted over to Hawk. Green eyes locked with green, hers narrow with reproof, Hawk's sympathetic as he tapped into the cat's bundle of emotions at the back of his mind and saw her hurt and indignation at being thrown about like a sack of potatoes. "Sorry girl," he whispered to her, stroking her back. "I'm clumsy and stupid. I don't deserve to have such a beautiful creature. You deserve better." Onyx just meowed plaintively and butted her head against his hand, completely ignoring his apology. Hawk just chuckled, as by now he knew her hunger signals, so he dug through the Never-Full pouch (for all your kitty's needs, never lug around bags and bags of cat food again!) on the side of the cat carrier for a can of wet cat food, which Onyx was munching contentedly at a few moments later.

As Hawk finished his duties with Onyx, he glanced over at Gwen, only to see that Munin had decided the girl's hair would make a much better roost for him than the cold metal of the luggage ledge. The girl was laughing as the bird walked back and forth on her shoulder blades, trying to figure out why there wasn't a pile of hair for him to settle down in. Finally Munin decided he had had enough, and settled on the flesh just to the side of Gwen's neck, partly hidden by the girl's long brown hair. Hawk took the opportunity of her distraction to really study the girl since he'd first bumped into her.

She wasn't the tallest of girls, almost half a head shorter than he was (and he knew he wasn't the tallest beanstalk in the garden). Her hair was a rich chestnut brown that turned red when the sun hit it through the glass window of the compartment and her eyes… her eyes were the most striking part of her. Gwen's eyes were purple. Not just some really deep shade of blue, they were purple. Hawk thought of the last time he'd seen someone with eyes as startling as Gwen's. He had been about eight at the time, and had snuck out of his cupboard after curfew to see what it was his Aunt and Uncle were watching on the telly. It turned out to be an American picture in which the lead actress—he never caught her name—was talking to a man. Hawk remembered nothing else from the film except the actress, whose eyes were just as startling a violet as Gwen's were. As a matter of fact, he had no reason to remember the rest of the film because his Uncle Vernon had heard the boy's gasp of surprise when he caught his first glimpse of the actress and promptly threw Hawk back in his cupboard and didn't let him out until dinner the next night.

Hawk was distracted from his study of Gwen by the sound of the compartment door opening to reveal a familiar white-blond boy plus two new ogre-like companions. "Hello again," the boy said, inviting himself into the compartment. "I don't believe we were properly introduced last we met."

Hawk felt the beginnings of a sneer start to curl his lips, and did nothing to stop it as he remembered their first 'meeting' at Madame Malkin's. "Well look who it is. Daddy actually allowed you out of his sight?"

The boy, who had been about to extend his hand, stopped and offered a weak sneer of his own. "Father doesn't allow me to do anything. I do as I wish."

"Mmm," Hawk nodded sagely. "So who're the goons? Protection?"

"Crabbe and Goyle, and no, they're not protection. Malfoys fight their own battles."

"Right. So that would make you what, a Chicken?" Gwen snickered quietly at Hawk's remark as she kept to the corner, stroking Munin and enjoying the 'show'.

The white-haired boy rolled his eyes heavenward. "Merlin help me," he muttered. "Crabbe, Goyle, leave us." The order issued, he ignored the two boys (who acted more like trolls than boys, Hawk thought) as they trundled up the corridor of the car and out of sight. "I am a Malfoy, and as such will forgive you your slight on the basis of ignorance of our family, as you are obviously out of touch with our world." Harry snorted, but Malfoy continued as if he hadn't noticed. "Now that that business is settled, allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy, née Black. The remainder of the heritage is unimportant, as you would both probably be bored to tears. Merlin knows I am whenever I have to introduce myself at parties. Horrible inconvenience, that is, when you're trying to hold a conversation with someone. So, who, might I ask, are you?"

Hawk stood up and bowed mockingly to the boy, green eyes glinting, then stood as if he were on military review and recited his own line as he knew it. "Hawk Potter, son of James and Lily Potter and I won't tell you the rest, 'cause I don't know anymore, sah!"

"Hawk?" Draco's eyebrow rose.

Hawk grinned. "Her idea," he said, pointing to Gwen. "Before that I had another name, which I am forbidden to mention ever again under penalty of slow and tortuous death. That good enough for you, milady?" He looked pointedly at Gwen, who grinned back and shrugged nonchalantly.

"It'll have to do, I suppose," she said. "I guess it's my turn then. Guinevere Flanagan's the name, but call me anything except Gwen and I'll eviscerate you." She brandished her wand threateningly in Draco's direction, much like she had with Hawk earlier at the platform.

Draco backed up slowly until his back was pressed against the door. "Far be it from me to annoy the lady. Please, continue."

"Right, daughter of Elizabeth and Steve Flanagan, came over from the States seven years ago."

Draco looked surprised. "You're a Yank?"

Gwen shrugged. "I don't really think of myself as one, no. My family is actually pretty old. The Flanagans were originally from Ireland, but my ancestors moved to the Americas during the potato famine. A great great great," she paused, ticking off the greats on her fingers, "great Uncle of mine was shot to death by the muggle Al Capone. My family's actually the first to come back to the Isles since our ancestors left."

Draco looked impressed in spite of himself. Hawk only smirked. The blond needed to have some of his preconceptions crumble, and Hawk knew just how to pull him from his superiority pedestal even more. Gwen gave him a perfect opening. "So, now that you both know my life history, let's hear what your families have been up to."

Hawk jumped in before Draco could begin. "I personally don't know any of my ancestry, but I do have a couple of childhood tales you might be interested in…" he started off telling the story Hagrid had told him of leaving Hawk on the doorstep of his Aunt and Uncle's house. He continued with a few choice tales designed to show Draco that the life of the so-called Boy-Who-Lived was not all flowers and sunshine. He'd been abused, and he said as such. Draco could only gape, amazed as more and more of his preconceptions about the Boy-Who-Lived crumbled beneath his feet, leaving him feeling humbled and vaguely angry at his Father for lying to him about the Potter boy.

Hawk for his part was enjoying his tale immensely. Draco responded exactly the way he'd hoped. "… and now I find myself here, a bloody wizard. It'll take some getting used to." His audience, animals aside, looked dumbstruck. He allowed them a moment for everything to sink in, then turned to Draco. "Your turn, Drake. What's your family like?"

Draco looked about to reply, but the first thing that came out of his mouth was, "you lived in a cupboard?"

Hawk scowled and his eyes flashed yellow. "Please, don't get fixated on that. It was annoying enough in Diagon Alley when I couldn't walk two paces without running into some witch or wizard who was just oh-so-thrilled! to meet the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. I told you the tale to show you that some things aren't what they seem. Everyone else in the bloody world seemed to think I led a charmed life from the day I got the scar until today. I didn't need my friends thinking that too."

Draco shook his head violently. "My apologies. I must admit some amount of shock, but you are correct. It was a knee-jerk response."

Hawk inclined his head, eyes slowly returning to their normal coloration. "Accepted. Now. Bad manners doesn't get you out of your turn in the 'reveal your secrets to an almost total stranger' game, so spill!"

Draco winced, but nodded in acquiescence. "Very well then. Since we met the first time, I've been doing some thinking on the subject of my father. I've discovered that, like you said, Hawk, his philosophy is very one-sided, and I'm afraid I know nothing of the other side." Draco paced nervously. "I guess what I'm asking is if I could learn from you—either of you—what that other side is about. We won't have Muggle Studies as a class option until Third Year…Father kept his old letter from his own third year. I found it about a month ago," he added at the sight of Hawk's and Gwen's confused expressions. "So anyway, would either of you be interested? I just want to learn the basics of muggle society—all the better to insult them, of course," he added hastily, so as not to seem… soft on the Muggles of the world.

Hawk pretended to think hard. "Hmm, well, we simply can't have you running about London and telling a muggle woman her outfit is gorgeous when she's wearing mismatched animal print (I find zebra stripe pants with leopard print tops particularly revolting), and then running away giggling like a schoolgirl as if it were the nastiest thing you could ever say to the woman, could we, Gwen?"

Gwen shook her head violently. "Of course not, my dear Hawk. Why, think of the embarrassment when he realizes he just complimented a woman on her horrendous taste—proving once and for all that he has no taste himself!"

The two tricksters gazed solemnly at one another for a moment, though Hawk's eyes betrayed his inner feelings (they were a swirling mix of emerald and sapphire), until Gwen couldn't contain her amusement any longer and burst out laughing. Hawk joined her a minute later, and Draco was quick to follow. Later, he'd never admit to anyone that he'd thought they were serious.

Hawk quieted down a moment later, and turned his amused gaze to Draco. "No worries, mate. Glad you've decided to think for yourself for a change."

Draco looked about to contest the boy's remark, but decided against it. He was right, in a way. Now that he thought about it, Draco realized that this would indeed be the first time he learned about something without his father's influence coloring his own opinions. He shivered a little as a thrill of fear and excitement swept through him to his core. He felt like a very important test had been placed in front of him, and he had aced it. A new path…he mused silently.

"…from the trolley, dears?" A strange voice brought Draco out of his thoughts.

"I'm not really hungry. Either of you want anything?" Hawk looked at Gwen and Draco. Draco shook his head no.

"Unless you have kitty and bird treats, I don't need anything," Gwen said, turning her gaze to the old woman.

"Sorry, love. Only human treats on this trolley," the woman said with a gentle smile, and left the compartment, closing the door behind her.

The three new friends chatted inanely a while about various things; who the teachers would be, what the school was like, etcetera. Before too long, however the compartment door opened once more, revealing a bushy haired girl with slightly bucked teeth. "Excuse me, has anyone seen a toad around? Neville's lost one." Hawk looked to Draco and Gwen, who shook their heads in the negative; Hawk repeated the action toward the girl. "Alright," she said amicably. "Thanks for your help." With that she shut the door once more, leaving the trio to their discussions.

The next interruption came from a disembodied voice that emanated from somewhere above the compartment door. "Attention students, we will be arriving at Hogwarts shortly. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken up separately."

"Finally," Gwen murmured, pulling on her robe. "Come on, you two! The suspense is killing me!"

"Then die already and leave me in peace," Hawk retorted, smacking Gwen across her head. "We're coming, hold on." He dressed quickly and gathered Onyx in his arms. He wasn't about to leave her to whatever it was that took the children's belongings up to the castle. "Hey Gwen can you grab—"

"Already got him," Gwen replied, patting the back of her neck where a bulge interrupted the smooth fall of her hair.

"Thanks," Hawk grinned at her and followed her and Draco out of the compartment and onto the platform.

"Firs' years! Firs' years o'er here!" A familiar voice rang in Hawk's ears as he stepped off the train. He smiled, recalling the kindness of the gigantic man, and waved to him, cradling Onyx to his neck. Hagrid spotted him almost immediately amidst the sea of first years and called to him. "Alrigh' there, Harry?" Hawk gave a nod and made a mental note to inform Hagrid of his new nickname.

He dashed up the path to the lake, where Hagrid was waiting in front of a long queue of rowboats. Except… these boats didn't have any oars, which confused Hawk. He wondered about that, not paying attention to where he was going until he bumped into the bushy-haired girl from the train and knocked her down to the ground. "Sorry," he said, putting Onyx down so he could give the girl a hand up. "I wasn't looking."

She shrugged and grinned. "No worries. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. I remember you from the train. Who're you?"

"Hawk," the black-haired boy replied, and shook her outstretched hand. "Now if you don't mind, I was trying to find my other friends. Would you care to join us?" he added as Hagrid's instruction of "no more'n four ter a boat!" rang out.

Hermione nodded. "Sure!"

Hawk led the girl through the throngs of first years until he finally caught a glimpse of a silver-haired boy and a black raven, which was currently perched on his female companion's head, much to her chagrin.

"Hermione, allow me to introduce Draco Malfoy and Guinevere Flanagan, called Gwen. The bird on her head is Munin, and my feline companion you've already met. She's called Onyx. Guys, this here's Hermione Granger."

Draco's eyes narrowed even as he stuck out a hand to shake her own. "Granger, huh? Not pureblood then?"

Hermione looked confused, but shook her head anyway. "I was the first witch ever in our family, if that's what you mean."

Draco nodded, gray eyes still narrowed and focused on the girl. He looked about to make another comment, but Hawk cuffed the side of his head. "First lesson, Drake. No stereotypes. And don't look at me that way, I saw how you were studying her! She's a witch, you're a wizard. She's the first in her family, you're the final product of a long line of interbreeding and purification." He spat the last word as if it were filth. "These things don't mean squat in the long run. So she's Muggle-born. So what? Her heritage has no impact whatsoever on how good a witch she is. And you too, Drake. You could've had no magic at all! Think beyond your father's lessons. It's the only way you're ever going to be able to grasp what you want Gwen and me to teach you." By the end of his tirade Hawk was panting slightly and his eyes gleamed amber. He stared at Draco until the boy snapped out of the slight daze Hawk's swipe had put him in and nodded in the affirmative.

"Sorry, Hawk. I'll do better." He turned to Hermione. "Forgive me? My father has taught me poor lessons, and my two friends here are trying to fix that." Hermione nodded, in a bit of a daze, herself.

"Hey, um, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but are y'all just going to stand there, or are we going to leave? We're the last boat as it is." Sure enough, the second-to-last boat had pulled off the bank using magic, I see, thought Hawk, marking the earlier mental note he'd made "solved".

The four children stepped quickly into their craft along with Onyx and Munin and with a lurch the boat quietly began its journey along the lake toward Hogwarts castle.
As the boat pulled silently up on the opposite bank of the lake and beached itself, all three human pairs of eyes (and one not-so-human) were opened wide at the sight before them. The castle had seemed to rise up out of the lake itself, cloaked in a thick mist that coated the surface of the lake. It was, in a word, magnificent to behold. Like a traditional medieval castle, four spires rose above the main structure, one per corner. Stained glass windows lined every floor, glowing cheerfully with candlelight from within. The entire structure emanated a feeling of warmth and protection that all four children felt as though they were finally coming home.

Gwen was the first to recover from the initial shock of seeing the castle for the first time and stepped out of the boat, Munin cawing as she slipped in the mud on the shore and almost went down. The others followed her, carefully though so they didn't meet the same end. The small group hurried up the hillside to join the rest of the first years at the great oaken doors that marked the main entrance into the castle.

THUMP… THUMP… THUMP Hagrid's large fist pounded a third time on the doors as Hawk, Gwen, Hermione, and Draco rejoined the group, panting. Hawk still cradled Onyx, but as the doors began to open the cat hissed and struggled against the young boy's arms. "What's wrong?" he asked her, trying to soothe the beast, but Onyx wouldn't have any of it. Her teeth sank into the boy's forearm and he yelped, drawing stares from the rest of the first years. Onyx took advantage of his distraction by leaping out of his arms and racing across the grounds toward the forest surrounding the castle. Hawk looked on helplessly and tried to figure out what would've made her run in such a way by the emotional bundle still in the back of his head, but all he could make out was a strong feeling of abject terror, which only served to frighten Hawk as well.

Gwen looked askance at Hawk, but he could only shrug as a gray-haired witch conversed with Hagrid and looked about to address them all. "…Follow me please," were the only words Hawk got, as worried as he was about Onyx. He stared out over the grounds as the first years slowly made their way inside the castle until Gwen had to finally tug his robes to get him to pay attention and start moving.

The group of eleven-year-olds stopped again outside the doors leading into the Great Hall. The gray-haired witch again spoke, but so focused was Hawk on the emotions he was still receiving from Onyx he didn't register a bit of it. Onyx seemed to have calmed down—she was no longer terrified, and so Hawk sent a query her way as best he could. She responded in surprise—in her terror she seemed to have forgotten all about Hawk—but she sent back a reassuring purr, which was odd, considering it was an emotion, but Hawk didn't know how else to describe the feeling his feline had sent him. He was about to send back another question, but the witch had once again appeared and was now ushering the first years into the Great Hall to be Sorted.
Hawk listened half-heartedly as the Sorting Hat sang (and rather poorly, he thought) about the House choices available, and what one might be Sorted into if one was of a certain temperament. The Hat finished its song with a flourish and looked rather satisfied as the same witch who'd ushered the first year students in took up position next to the Hat and began reading names from a scroll. "Abbot, Hannah!" was first, and went straight to Hufflepuff. The Sorting continued in that vein, with some students taking longer than others until it was Gwen's turn.

"Looks like I'm first, eh?" she said in an overly cheerful voice as "Flanagan, Guinevere!" was called. She approached the stool warily, as if afraid of what the Hat might say to her, but it turned out she had no cause for alarm. The Hat made no mention of anything excepting that she would do well in either Ravenclaw or Slytherin, and after a moment made a decision and the call of "RAVENCLAW!" rang through the air.

Of the four, "Granger, Hermione!" was next, and her Sorting went even faster than Gwen's had. She quickly joined the growing ranks of Gryffindor and the witch made to call out the next name.

Both Draco and Hawk were dancing on their heels as Draco's turn approached. He, at least had nothing to worry about. His entire family had been members of the Slytherin House, and although he wanted to think for himself for once, he wasn't quite ready to break the ties with Slytherin that had been set since long before his great-grandfather was born. Hawk on the other hand was rocking nervously for a radically different reason. Onyx had been hunting in the forest—he'd felt her craving for meat—but had found something else hiding in the bushes and was currently in a battle for her life. Hawk knew she could hold her own, but she was still a kitten, and he was worried. As such he completely missed Draco's Sorting, only registering the call of "SLYTHERIN!" that resounded in the Hall and applauding along with the rest of the first years. Suddenly he felt the emotions in the back of his head shift to a very satisfied purr, and Hawk relaxed for the moment with the knowledge that Onyx was safe. He stood calmly for the next few names, but then had to start fidgeting. He was bored! Then the call came: "Potter, Harry!" Finally, Hawk thought as the witch up front called his name. He started to head to the stool, but paused as he remembered what Gwen had said to him on the train. Not that he wasn't brave, but… he didn't particularly look forward to the idea of being dismembered on his first day of school. He looked, therefore, to the Ravenclaw table where his friend sat and asked the question with his eyes. She seemed to chuckle a little, but inclined her head enough for Hawk to know he had her "permission" to acknowledge his old name.

"Potter, Harry!" Professor Minerva McGonagall's voice rose a pitch as she searched desperately for the Boy-Who-Lived when he did not answer the first summons. Whispering immediately broke out in the Great Hall, and Minerva looked nervously back at the Headmaster, but he'd already turned his attention to the front of the room, eyebrows raised in surprise. Following his gaze, Minerva twisted sharply on her heel and managed not to fall over on her robes even as she did a double-take when the savior of the Wizarding World ascended the small stairway that separated the Head Table from the remainder of the hall.

The boy who walked up to the Sorting Hat's stool was small and slender, like most of the first years, but what Minerva didn't count on was the scent of the child. Too many years as an Animagus coupled with far too many scouting missions in the War (in her opinion, at least) had given the Transfiguration professor the senses of her animal counterpart while in human form. She wasn't normally troubled by them (and also the ability to see in the dark when the students were unable to was a bonus for her nightly hall patrol), even during the Sortings when so many children were gathered in such a small space. But this child… she watched as he placed the Sorting Hat on his head only to have it envelope his entire head down to the middle of his neck. This child was different. He had a—not a swagger, but a stalk to his walk that she was certain was unintentional. Unlike that Malfoy boy's, she thought as she watched the Hat's "lips" move—silently to all except the child beneath the brim, though Minerva had managed during the years to be able to pick out a phrase here and there. "Where to put you?" was always somewhere in the Hat's repertoire, as were the stock descriptions of "loyal", "cunning", "intelligent", or "brave", depending on the House the Hat was considering. From the boy's conversation with the Sorting Hat, she had already seen the "intelligent" and "cunning" phrases mentioned, and ah—there were the other two, as well. Usually by this time, Minerva had an idea of where the Hat was about to place the student, but with Harry, she really could not tell. The Hat didn't seem to be in any rush to Sort the boy—in fact, it seemed to be having a full conversation with the child! Minerva couldn't help but wonder what was so special about this child, aside from the obvious, of course, that warranted a—it looked more like an argument now—between the Hat and the Boy-Who-Lived?

Finally, as if in answer to her unasked question the Hat yelled out a word and the boy got up, set the Hat back down on its stool, and dashed off to join his Housemates. Minerva was floored. She looked back at the Headmaster, but he was just as surprised as she. Minerva stared after the boy for a moment, then shook herself out of her daze and called the next name, all the while thinking: How in Merlin's name did James Potter's son get placed in Slytherin?

And that, my pretties, is that. Thought I would leave you hanging there for a moment, didn't you? Naw, I'm not that cruel. Besides, my updates are too sporadic for a cliffhanger to do any sort of good other than frustrate the hell out of y'all until finally you lose interest. I should know, I've been party to that emotion on several occasions. ;D Hope you enjoyed this latest installment. Next update may be… a while yet, but it's summer and I'm only working 40 hours a week, shit. I'll probably crank another one out before I leave you all for an even longer period of time, also known as the beginning of my college eddykashun. Go Drexel! Please note, however, that the hiatus will NOT be forever! I REFUSE to leave this behemoth unfinished. I've written about sixty pages so far, and half that again is word processed, so no worries, kiddies. It may be the year 2010 before this fic is complete, but mark my words it WILL be complete!

Now, fic-related stuff: either in the next chapter or as a one-shot I will be putting up Hawk's point of view of the Sorting Hat experience. I liked McGonagall's better for the actual Sorting, though, so nyeh. That'll be up whenever I get around to it.

Um, also! And I'd REALLY like your opinions on this. Is Hawk in character (as much as he can be for this fic)? It may be because I'm the author, but his character seems to jump around a bit on the emotional spectrum. I'd like someone's help to try and keep him as much of a constant as possible so I can let him evolve properly, instead of sporadically. I guess what I'm asking for is a character-beta, to put it technically. If you're interested, just leave a review with an analysis for that chapter on Hawk. Or any of the other characters, if you feel they could use fine-tuning whips out hammer should be interesting.

Alrighty Here's where I stop sounding like I've had too many AP classes this past year (and I have, trust me) and you all leave your thoughts on the chapter. Please and thank you!

Thanks to: Cayenne, SadnessAndSorrow, angelkitty77, lonlyheart, Suicidal Bunnies, Manny2003, Shdwolf, HecateDeMort, Shadowed Rains

Lukiea Johnson – No, I can definitely say that this fic will NOT be slash in the future. As a matter of fact, I hadn't really considered any pairing for Hawk until he's much older. I'm sorry if this fact means you will not continue to read my story, but them's the breaks. Glad you've enjoyed it so far, though.

GoldenTrioPWG – Discontinue? Me? Never:shies away from the spork-wielding reviewer: As to the birthday bit, you're right, it is on Halloween. Depending on computer access and the laziness level of yours truly, that little fact may or may not be fixed before the end of the fic. After it's complete, I'm gonna edit it once more (I've found a couple of errors so far that make me want to cringe at my own stupidity) and then re-post it.

Rachel Sedai – YES:dances: I made a reviewer lose sleep! You don't know HOW much of an ego-booster that is. I too have spent long nights reading excellent fanfiction, and it flatters me that you would take so much time of your own to read my story. Thank you!

monica- :smiles mysteriously: all will be revealed in good time, my child. No fear.

Black-Raven3 – Morgan probably won't be seen again for a long while, so no fear. I'm also a proud card-carrying member of the 'We Hate Manipulative!Dumbledore' club. There will be a lot of that here… and a lot of Harry 'wolfing out' as it were before he gains more control over himself. Not to give any secrets away, though, of course:D

kagomepotter – Thanks for that… must've been a brain-fart on my part to not remember Munin is memory (it's also spelled wrong, which I discovered to my deep chagrin) As I said earlier, that fact may not be addressed until I finish the fic and re-edit it for those glaring errors. :sigh:

:dances: Yay! I'm at the 100 mark! Whoo! I had actually not planned to post until I hit 100 reviews, but for a while that didn't look like it was going to happen, but lo and behold! Hot damn, thank you all!