AN: By the way, both uses, Magick and Magic are permitted. I'd rather use Magick because its the word Wiccans use to differ it from the magic tricks.
"Ron, come here, I want to show you something!" Hermione's voice said with excitement and she guided Ron and the black stallion towards the stalls.
The couple guiding the freisian entered the crowded stalls. Horses of all breeds and colours huffed and neighed nervously at their appearance. One nasty tempered mare plunged a bite at the stallion, making him leap back hence pulling on the boy's grip of the reins. Hermione calmed the beast with tender hands and shooing words, gently patting at the muzzle and neck.
"Leave him here, it is his stall!" Hermione pointed out at an empty box, the floor was a bed of straw, and a dish full of grain awaited golden and tempting for the animal.
Eager as he was, the animal pushed the boy aside and pounced on the food with hunger, lips almost drooling and foamy, and eyes bright with delight. Hermione pulled out the reins and bite to allow him a more comfortable lunch, and keeping also the security that he won't damage his jaw. Without more words, a silent expectation, an emotion burning within Ron's stomach comfortingly, they entered through a small, wooden door at the end of the stables.
The vision that launched before him glowed with the imaginary light of tales and fantasy. Horses, an enormous herd of horses paced and pranced happily before him. The equines were the colour of snow, with manes of pearly white, and a horn rimmed spiralled on their foreheads, longer in males, shorter in females. Hooves parted like a stag's, legs thin and agile, the long, thin tail of a lion finished in a thick mat of curly, pearly hair. Golden calves trotted in a game only they seemed to understand the rules, and young mares and stallions the colour of purest silver fought and galloped showing their strength and speed.
"They are…!" Ron began, gapping in awe and surprise, his voice faint as shock seemed to bloom within him.
"Unicorns, yes, probably the last herd in England!" Hermione explained, her eyes glimmered sadly as they gazed at the small field where the last unicorns made a living.
A large, male unicorn limped past, tired, older than he had ever been, and visibly exhausted and miserable. He stopped before the entranced, pale eyes gazed brightly in the direction of the two sorcerers, and he bowed gently and elegantly in a salute. The two friends bowed equally, awed and surprised at the animal's reactions, but deeply enchanted by his charm.
"Whisper!" Hermione said in a low, gentle voice, trembling with tears as the horse retired with slow, aching paces.
"Why?" inquired Ron in such a low whisper it seemed almost impossible Hermione could have heard him.
"The Unicorn!" Hermione turned to look at him with disbelieving eyes, "His name is Whisper!" she finished almost angrily, staring at the boy as if seeing through the mask.
"Oh, right!" Ron answered, although he was grinning so widely his fangs would have glimmered almost viciously, as if he was snarling had he not maintained the mask.
"Lavender was very fond of that unicorn, for some strange reason they seemed to get along perfectly. She was very lost when magick faded, and this animal brought her back to life. The night she… well" Hermione sighed and swallowed a big gulp of air before continuing, "that night she had been protecting him, the unicorn was injured and she faced the spirit to save him!" the witch could not suppress a gentle, strangled sob as she rememorized the terrible vision of her slain body.
Ron embraced her understanding, letting her pour her feeling onto his chest. He wanted to take off his disguise, he wanted to kiss her on the cheek and tell her all was all right, that he was there for her, but he couldn't. He had already lost too much, his brothers, his parents, Harry…and was not willing to loose Hermione's friendship and trust because of the horrible fact that he now owned a furry tail, furry ears and a mouth full of sharp fangs.
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"how? Why? I…I thought you were dead!" gasped Ginny staring at the figure before her.
"I wasn't! I was hiding! He wanted to kill me so I had to hide! But Ginny, there is not time to tell you my story, I need your help!" the boy said glancing at her through worried, silver eyes.
"Tell me!" Ginny urged staring straight at him with great seriousness.
"You need to help me!" the boy glanced at the sky with worry, "I need to hurry before the moon rises and transforms me!" he gasped rapidly, barely stopping to breath.
"How? You have always been able to control your wolf side! And it's not even full moon tonight!" gasped Ginny recoiling slightly, staring at the boy with frightful worry.
"Not any more, something is inside me, something controls me and wants to kill everything related with magick. You have to tell Hermione, you have to find a way of getting it out of me!" the boy moaned sadly, whimpering like a lost puppy.
"Come with me!" Ginny gasped, trying to grip his hand, which he refused recoiling fearfully.
"I can't!" he gasped, feeling the first leaks of moonlight touching his skin, "RUN!" roared the boy with pain and anger boosting within him, contaminating his blood like a venom.
"Not without you!" Ginny said fearfully, glancing at the way the boy curled in a ball, and the so familiar transformation began.
The Weasley would have been confident that the boy would never hurt her. The young werewolf had always had managed to control the wolf, befriend him without wolfsbane, promising hunts as long as he was allowed to control the body, and so the wolf was killed, but the instincts remained within a conscious, human mind. This time a shrill echoed in the woodlands, the transformation was wrong, it was not a wolf what was appearing before her. Claws sharper than blades, fangs like sabres, a strong body made to run and to fight, able to cross any obstacle. This was a demon, and Ginny knew she was lost, not even the dashing Bankara would outrun the spirit that had, so easily, defeated a Unicorn.
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The enormous reptilian creature swooped through the air, sniffing the scent of terror, following the trail of cold fear. Leathery wings flapped powerfully as the creature flew quick and strongly towards the source of the shrill, of the scream. Copper coloured scales glowed and sparkled like velvet, soft and silky. The eyes glanced around fearfully, chocolate eyes penetrating the ceiling of leaves, trying to go through the thick, treacherous cover in a desperate attempt of reaching the girl whose life was endangered.
There it was, threatening, a colour so pure, but which bore so much evil and darkness, white like the snow, like the very spirit he was. The beast pounced with a mysterious, almost echoing roar that stuttered and trembled like water, like fog. Ginny, frightened, attempted to crouch and cover her body with her feeble, fleshy arm, a frightened gasp erupting from her mouth. She hadn't felt as much terror than the time, that horrible time that had been burnt within her memory.
George had stood before her when Bellatrix Lestrange had fired the killing curse at her, receiving the impact. His blank face, his motionless body collapsing in a heap, and his unfocused eyes staring into infinity, and that brave glint still present in his features.
A roar, a thunderous roar boomed across the dark, clear sky. Ginny looked up and lost all voice, all motion for her body froze, undecided whether to consider the arrival as a blessing or a terror. Wings folded back, head pointed forward, a vicious gleam in the brown eyes, fangs bore bloodthirstily, and sharp claws extended menacingly towards the spirit. The white darkness didn't seem to realize the newcomer, and ignoring the powerful dragon was a terrible mistake.
A claw swished forward and the enormous legs collided against the ground, leaving the girl under the fibrous, strong chest and slender stomach. The whistling claw collided against the spirit sending it flying across the woodlands.
"No!" Ginny called frightened, extending her arm forward as if attempting to reach the white monster.
"Ginny, RUN!" commanded the dragon, the face staring at the girl with concern, worry and almost fear, the female voice with such familiar timbre stuttering.
"Hermione?" questioned Ginny all of a sudden, narrowing her eyebrows inquiringly.
"RUN!" bellowed the dragon more desperately, glancing forward in time to see the spirit prancing towards her.
The creature roared again, more loudly, more furiously, her chest inflating with burning air. Ginny obeyed rapidly, and proceeded to mount on the obedient mare, who had remained protectively, or maybe just too frightened to run, next to her. The two females didn't turn around, and Bankara's eagerness was visible when she pounced forward and galloped away as if it was the last thing she would do in life. The dragon lunged forward, jaws wide open, spitting a column of fire that nearly reached the spirit. The white being hissed like an infuriated cat and recoiled, turning around and fleeing into the darkness. He had accepted defeat, and had found the most dignified of the opponents, a spirit that had presented an stoical battle that should be mentioned in the very tales of ancient heroes and gods.
"Ginny…!" whispered the dragon, her brown eyes gazing forward, her breathing laboured, and her whole, enormous structure beginning to fade into the very mist that reigned this haunted woodlands.
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"GINNY!" yelled Hermione so loudly that her voice boomed through the room like a thunder.
The woman stood up abruptly, agile like a cat, her brown eyes wide and full of terror, fear and a great worry towards the girl mentioned in her voice. She had felt it so real, the spirit, the cold, silver eyes that bore so deep within her, and at the same time so pleading, so much suffering rested so deep within them. Hermione lost no instant to race out of her room, dressed in her pyjamas, but not caring being such a serious situation.
"Ron, Ron!" bellowed the girl, her voice still sounding like the roar of the dragon.
She entered the room so violently that Ron, startled, collapsed off his bed, dragging the quilt along with him. He was hidden in the shadows, but could not appear naked like he was, dressed only in a pair of pyjamas with nothing to hide his foxy features.
"Hermione!" shrieked the boy slightly annoyed, and also inquiringly. "What's wrong?" he asked standing up, still draped on the quilt and quickly placing his coat, mask and cap over his body.
"I think Ginny's in problems!" Hermione gasped through ragged, exhausted breaths.
"Ginny?" Ron let his cap drop onto the floor, his eyes glancing at Hermione so seriously, so wide, searching for something that could tell she was mistaken, or seeking doubt in her own visual orbs.
"Ron…" Hermione breathed taking a hesitant step back, her voice fading.
"What?" Ron blinked lightly, still staring at the woman with quizzed eyes.
"Your eyes, they are…glowing!" Hermione hissed in a soft, almost inquiringly voice.
Ron quickly looked at the mirror situated just in front of him. He saw nothing for a second, but just as he turned to corroborate the girl's word, he saw it. The moment his head twitched only a bit, a centimetre, the light of the full moon fell in a shower over his orbs. His eyes then emitted that bright, luminous greenish glow, so particular of night animals, as he, himself, was now. He glanced down and sighed gently, then retrieved his cap and placed it back over his head, covering his ears.
"Ginny!" he hissed as he walked past Hermione, grabbing her hand strongly and tugging forward with rushed, rapid paces.
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As the two friends emerged through the main entrance, Bankara tore through the woodlands, emerging across the thick curtain of treacherous leaves and branches with a leap. Ginny was leaning forward expertly, the face held tightly with a strong, firm hand on the reins. When the mare landed on the fresh, moist grass, Ginny sat back and let her gallop until she was next to the group, where she tugged gently at the right rein until the mare stopped.
"Ginny, oh my, Ginny!" Ron rushed towards the girl alarmed and also relieved that she was unscratched and whole.
Ginny was at a loss for words. Once she was back on safety, the girl dismounted her shaky body from the mare, and collapsed on Ron's arms the moment she landed. The youngest of the Weasleys broke as soon as the strong, comforting arms of her brother were wrapped around her smaller body. Tears stained her face and her brother's chest as the salty fluid flowed with ease, accompanied by continuous and rhythmic sobs.
"Ginny, oh Ginny, what happened?" the boy inquired, staring at the girl questioningly.
"We have to help him! We have to help him!" Ginny sobbed over and over, her eyes glossy and red.
"Help who?" Hermione inquired staring at the girl worriedly.
"He's hurting, he is hurting so much!" the girl seemed unable to control herself as her incoherent words repeated over and over.
"Take her inside Ron, I'll go guard the horse!" Hermione said taking a firm grip of the reins, for Bankara was very uneasy herself, and breathed through nervous ragged huffs.
"Hermione, he didn't want to, but tried to hurt me, and you came Hermione, you scared him away!" Ginny's eyes left her hiding place at Ron's chest to glance at Hermione with a demented glint in the blue depths.
"Take her inside Ron!" gasped Hermione rather uneasy herself at the words said by the little girl, "she's in shock!" the woman finished, dragging the horse along.
"No I'm not in shock, Hermione, you were a dragon! You are a dragon!" Ginny called at her, and her screams subsided as Ron dragged her along into the castle.
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Once the young colt had been placed into her box, well fed, dried her sweat and taken good care of, Hermione decided to walk away. She turned around and gasped loudly, taking a pronounced leap backwards, and reaching pointlessly for her wand, which wasn't there, neither functioned any more. Her muscles relaxed visibly when her gaze analyzed the factors more calmly, and she recognized the figure pacing so calmly along the stalls. A tall figure, dressed in bright plum robes, examined the horses with the interest of an experienced rider.
"Good night to you too Hermione!" the man said humorously, greatly interested in a strong, chestnut mare called, so fitting, Ginger.
"Professor Dumbledore, what are you doing here?" inquired Hermione glancing at the man with great stupor.
"I've come to check on these beautiful creatures, wonderful, agile and strong!" Dumbledore said stroking the mare's face tenderly.
"That one's kind of bad tempered!" Hermione warned glancing untrusting at the pointed ears, laying flat over the chestnut head and mane. "And you haven't come for the horses, but because of the spirit lingering in the Forbidden Forest!" she finished staring at the man.
"Very intelligent, like always Miss Granger!" the man left his attention on the mare and turned to stare at the girl, expectantly.
"What is he?" inquired Hermione staring with her full attention.
"A spirit that has reached our world through a fissure!" The man explained calmly.
"Ok, why is he pursuing us?" inquired Hermione with a slight frustration, having known recently that the beast was a spirit.
"He is something close to a muggle spirit." Dumbledore explained, smiling gently at the disbelieving eyes Hermione bore, "indeed he has been created out of the misbelieve, the anger and rage, mistrust and deception muggles feel towards magick, and his only purpose is to destroy all that which is magick." Dumbledore explained calmly, but Hermione perceived the saddened glint sparkling in his eyes.
"How can we destroy it?" Hermione inquired again, concise, straight questions.
"Only magick can!" Dumbledore commented, "or a spirit!" he added upon seeing the deception in Hermione's eyes.
"Then!" Hermione's eyes lit up with understanding, her head raised and her eyes glanced into her mind, reading those answers that had just flashed into her. "The dragon!" she gasped through ragged breaths.
"Indeed, Hermione, the dragon that saved Ginny is nothing but your very own animal spirit, the one animal you would turn into if you were to be an animagus." Dumbledore smiled pleasantly at the girl.
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Ron glanced at the young woman in which her little sister had turned into. Neville was by his side, staring with worried eyes at the young girl. He had been summoned by Ron to help him take care of his sister, while he went to retrieve Hermione from the stalls. Ginny lay placidly asleep, steady and calm as if no worries were terrorizing her, and Ron knew that hours of sleep did wonders in troubled minds.
"Neville, I'll go take Hermione, the stalls are too far away!" Ron said staring at the boy with glowing eyes, making Neville start but ask no question.
"Ok Ron!" the boy nodded shyly, not inquiring about the boy's strange, almost animalistic appearance, and the growl that seemed to rumble in his throat.
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Hermione hadn't dared to question Dumbledore about his situation here, or where he had come from, considering it was his mysterious will to appear before them. Dumbledore seemed to be fading along with the magick that had been their world, perhaps so linked with it that the loss of it was unbearable to his powerful gift. So she had simply said a brief farewell, as if they would see again tomorrow, and turned around to leave him with his mysteries.
The cold air slapped her on the face, and her chest seemed to breathe more easily now that she had weapons against the spirit. Herself. But first she needed to control such spirit to make it arise at will. So absorbed had she been in her own thoughts that she didn't see the shadow that rushed towards her with the speed of a fox being tagged by a pack of hounds, the black coat flapping like bat's wings, the chestnut brown eyes blazing with worry, and a warning yell fading with the wind.
A roar. A terrible, cruel, unnatural roar that belonged to everywhere but the tangible world. Hermione turned around and saw it, the spirit crouching before her, readying himself to pounce, the silver eyes glimmering on the white, cougar face, and the sharp fangs drooling with thirst for blood. It was a slender, enormous cougar, and Hermione admitted it could be called beautiful, had it not been for the steel glance it sent her, and the way it threatened to kill anything that glimmered with the slightest bit of magick.
"Hermione!" yelled Ron reaching her, now so close he could almost touch her hair.
The girl paid no attention to the shaky, shrilly voice. Fallen with the shock of seeing the beast, she laid there, on the moist grass, eyes filled with terror as she attempted to summon the dragon into her air. The cougar pounced towards her, fangs bared, claws ready to slash, and eyes injected with blood. It all occurred in a simple fraction of a second, for Ron got rid of his coat, mask and cap, and leapt over Hermione's fallen body.
A collision on the air, and both creatures fell to the ground with a thud, the grass below their bodies shattering with an infamous snap. Ron stood up rapidly, and stood before Hermione, his tail high, his hands ready to grab, and his fangs bared as a deep growl rumbled within his throat. The cougar stood up as well, his silver eyes staring sharp on Ron's blazing ones, a loud hiss echoing with the whistling wind.
"Ron!" gasped Hermione staring at the body, recognizing the tall, thin body, "Ron?" inquired the girl again, staring at the boy's living tail, the ears folded back with threat.
The boy could not look back, pleading or shamefully, whichever, but his attention had to be sharp on the spirit. He pounced forward and threw a bite at the creature, agily moving away when the cougar threw a well aimed slash. Ron then used the moment of unstable balance to kick the cougar, making it collapsed with a moan. It was his chance.
Ron pounced over the cougar to finish it off, his sharp fangs still bared. He leapt like the fox he was, crouching on the floor to act a mayor parabola. However, the cougar was immortal to the point that only lack of belief could kill it. The beast rolled on his back and took a firm grip of Ron's right leg with his knife like claws. The sharp nails dug on the boy's leg, slashing it and opening a deep collection of gashes. Blood began to pour from them and the crimson fluid had soon stained the cougar's fur and the boy's leg.
The collision had made Ron loose his aim, hence collapsing on one side and allowing the murderous beast to leap over his weakened figure. He snarled like a wolf and kept his fangs out, his hands keeping the sharper, larger fangs at bay, only using the strength of his arms. All seemed lost, he could do little damage with his hands, and he was not half as strong as the spirit to tear his throat. There was a slight longing to do such as the fury of battle ignited within his body, but his priority was to get out of this alive, and save Hermione.
The girl was with her eyes closed, deep in concentration, she was managing it, she could see Ron struggling with the puma from a height of many metres, although she was still intangible, shapeless, only a hazy mist that blended with the very light of the moon's silver rays. Then, the miracle, although at first it seemed like the loss of Ron's battle. Emerging from the woodlands, an enormous black wolf, human traits formed the powerful body. Two metres and a half in height, the powerful head drooled rabidly, the green eyes blazed with anger, fury as it plunged towards the white spirit.
Concentration lost, Hermione was back in her body in time to see the werewolf battling the cougar with ecstatic anger. The green eyes seemed almost maddened as he fought with valiant courage. Slashing with sharp claws, the cougar was thrown to the floor violently. The beast, not giving in, pounced onto the werewolf's towering figure, and the skilled animal threw a well aimed bite at the animal's hand, tearing the flesh and dripping blood. The cougar hissed angrily, glaring at the werewolf, then retreated through the woodlands, being pursued by the infuriated canine, dripping blood from his fangs.
"Ron!" recovered from her shock, Hermione called at the boy, laying on the grass and staring intently at the forest.
Ron turned around at the hearing of his name, and Hermione saw with a gasp the reason why he covered his face with a medical mask. His features were the same as always, except that his nose had a more canine like appearance, and his open mouth revealed a collection of sharp fangs, very common on a small dog. His furry ears were laid back with shame, and the beautifully long, furry tail lay motionless next to him.
The boy might have been ashamed, but his care for the woman was such that he stood up with much effort, having had to gather the integrity of his energy for such task. Limping his way, and dripping blood, Ron reached the girl with careful, slow paces, whimpering when he added too much pressure on his wounded, injured leg.
"Hermione?" Ron's eyes glanced right into her own, seeking answers about her well being, too much worried about her to worry about himself, or his unnatural appearance.
The girl examined him for brief moments, then leapt on him, embracing the youngster into such a tight hug Ron thought he would loose his breath. He returned the hug and pressed lightly, making her know he was here, he would never leave her. Hermione breathed in the metallic scent of blood, mixed with that gentle aroma of sweets that belonged to him, to Ron Weasley.
"Ron, you are…you are…, er…what exactly are you?" inquired the girl, pulling away from their embrace and examining him intently.
"Little Hermione know it all doesn't know what Ronnie has become?" Ron commented with a weak smile, attempting to lighten up the mood, and feeling weaker by the second.
"Ron!" Hermione gasped and punched his arm playfully, which made Ron laugh feebly.
"I'm an Anthro!" Ron explained resuming seriousness, and looking down shamefully, "I'm a human with animal traits, fox traits in my case!" he finished glancing tearfully at the flaming tail.
"Ron, look at me!" Hermione, noting his unease, placed her hand under his chin and forced him to look up, "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen!" the girl said all of a sudden, once the boy's eyes were locked into her own.
The boy took a few second to digest the information, but as he did blood seemed to warm his paling face. Hermione moved forward, leaving closer to him than he had ever thought possible, not even in his wildest dreams. Humid lips were pressed to tenderly, gently and sweetly against his own, it was a soft peck that somehow meant more to him than the flaming passion of tongues locking in a tight knot. Hermione's stomach fluttered nervously as she pressed her lips so gently against the boy's, but calmed as soon as the boy joined in.
"Hello Ron, Hermione!" said a hoarse, wolfish voice behind them, "I'm not surprised to see the two of you romantically involved, it was something I have always foreseen!" the voice spoke again with a slight joy, a weak chuckle and a ragged cough following as if he had not used the voice in a very long time.
The two of them saw the werewolf emerging from the forest, now in human shape. Standing tall and proud was a man, covered completely in a black coat, a large hood covering the face. It was the very same man that had encountered Ron in the park the very day of his transformation, and somehow he felt he could trust the stranger, for something nudged in the pit of his stomach to trust him. Ron embraced the girl protectively when the man approached and retrieved his hood, revealing the true and unexpected identity.
To Be Continued…
AN: Sorry for the delay of this chapter, but I wanted to finish Where You Belong, my FFX fanfic about Titanic. Well, who is the mysterious werewolf that helps Ron and Hermione, who is the hooded man. How will the rest cope with the fact that he is and Anthro? Well, please review and tell me what you think.