disclaimer: i own nothing

AN: Thanks to those of you who have reveiwed my story so far. It is most encouraging!

Chapter 2
To Be a Niffler

"Merlin's beard!" shrieked Hermione, "I don't understand!"

Through the course of the night and much of the following morning, Hermione had cursed every part of Merlin that she could think of in her frustration. This included such obscure parts as his wenis which, Harry was sharply informed, is the nerveless skin on the elbow.

"If I could just find something…somewhere…I'm not even sure what I'm looking for anymore, Ron." she said.

Ron, who had been quivering under the couch, poked his head out to try and give her a look that would say "It's all right, just calm down!" But he only managed to look frightened.

"Look, Hermione, you're frightening Ron." Harry quit his pacing to stoop down and pick up his transfigured friend. "Let's keep a cool head about this. Everything that had been transfigured can be reversed back to its original state, that's one of the first things we learned, right?"

"Yes," said Hermione, rubbing her temples. She was lying on her stomach with both elbows on the couch arm. Her carpet bag, which had been magically expanded to fit her large collection of books, was empty on the floor beside her. Its prior contents were strewn every where. Books coated the floor, filled the sink, and blocked the door, but not a single one of them had provided an answer to their problem.

Ron just could not be transfigured back!

Hermione had tried immensely to reverse the spell, but every attempt had absolutely no effect on him. She had looked up curses, jinxes, and reread every book she had on transfiguration and still could not find the counter curse.

After the first three tries she had placed down her wand and said, "See, Harry, this can't be Ron. First of all, it's basically impossible to change a person into an animal unless they take the potion to make them an animagus. Second of all, if he had been transfigured, then I should be able to transfigure him back and I haven't been able to do that. And third of all," she had said, picking up the niffler, "This thing is much too cute to be Ron."

However, after she lost three humiliating games of chess to the niffler, she was forced to believe that the thing really was Ron.

"Oh what are we going to do Harry!" she moaned into her hands, "We came here to find those horcruxes and I'm sure that we wont have too much time before the death eaters find out where you are. But, it seems now that they already know."

"You know," said Harry in an attempt to cheer her up, "I think that Ron's quills look a little redder than they were before, don't you?"

He was answered with the back of Hermione's head. She did not want him to see how unsettled she was. Not for the first time, her books and smarts had failed her.

"I think they already know, Hermione," he continued, sitting down beside her on the couch with Ron on his lap, "Or else Ron was in some kind of random freak accident."

Ron blinked his round black eyes at them. The truth was that he could not remember what had happened to him, but it did not matter any way because he could not talk.

Being a niffler, he had discovered, was harder than it looked. There were so many smells in the air and he wondered how he had never noticed them all when he was a boy. It felt awkward to think as a human, but see things in a completely different light. When he was Ron the human, he had never noticed how beautiful shiny things were. The way the lamplight sparkled, the way paperclips gleam like stars in a sky of carpet, the way Harry's glasses glinted, and the way Hermione's eyes twinkled when she was mad. Well, he had always noticed that, but he had never truly seen it. He felt strangely attracted to all of these things; he wanted to take them, to bury them, to hide them from everyone else. They were his.

Ron shook his quills, hoping that the niffler thoughts would be thrown out of his tiny ear. He looked over at the sliding glass door to see Crookshanks staring in at him unpleasantly, his bottle brush tail twitching in a conniving sort of way. Ron did not like it at all so he turned his snout to Hermione.

"Please," he pleaded with his eyes, "Do something about that crazy cat."

"It's alright, Ron," she patted his quills, "We'll get you back to normal sooner or later. Perhaps Professor Magonagall…"

Harry and Ron glanced at her and the three of them exchanged uncertain looks. They had spoken last with their old transfiguration teacher at Bill and Flur's wedding. Over cake, she had made it clear that she would be difficult to contact, but happy to help in case of an emergency.

Harry swallowed hard. Thinking of the wedding reminded him of Ginny and their last evening together. Her flaming red hair speckled with little jasmine flowers, the summer grass beneath them and the endless heaven above them momentarily intoxicated his mind.

"Do you think we should, Harry?" asked Hermione, cruelly wrenching him down to earth.

Fully recovered Harry replied, "Only as a last resort."

Ron thumped his feet nervously on Harry's legs. How long was he going to be stuck like this? And when would the incessant urge to dig ever end! He felt like he needed to find something desperately, but he was not quite sure what it was.

"As for the horcruxes," said Harry and it seemed that enormous weight had just fallen onto his shoulders, making them droop, "I'm sorry, Ron, but they can't wait. I need to do what I came here to do."

"We know, Harry," said Hermione gripping his shoulder "And we want to help you, you know that."

Harry looked at her apologetically, "I have an idea, but I know that you're going to hate it."

Hermione knew what was coming, but she was determined to smile and do it anyway, for Harry's sake, "What?"

"I could, you know, head out to see my parent's old house and their graves and you could…" he struggled to finish and Ron, who also sensed what Harry was going to say, clumsily waddled under the couch again, "well…stay here and try to, you know, get Ron back to normal. I don't like the idea of us splitting up, but that's all I can think to do."

Determined to be amiable, Hermione smiled over her indignant feelings and said, "You're probably right."

"I am?" asked Harry as Ron stuck his head out from under the couch. They had been expecting something along the lines of an explosion.

"Yes, I mean, it's not as though all of us have to go together and it's really a more personal thing for you. I understand why you would want to do this on your own. But," she said, standing up, "Don't think that we're going to let you find these horcruxes alone, right Ron?"

The little niffler trundled out to look at Harry and shake his quills in agreement.

"I know," said Harry, smiling, "You guys are the greatest."

Ron stuck out his nose to sniff them and smelled something strange, something that had not been there before. It was close by and getting closer, he knew it. Someone was standing in front of the door to their room.

A moment later there was a knock on their door and the three of them froze. Harry and Hermione looked at each other and Hermione scooped up Ron.

"We do not need our room to be cleaned today, thank you." she said.

There was a gruff grunt from the other side and a commanding voice boomed in on them, "I am not here to clean, I'm here to throw you out! What's the meaning of all this?"

"Oh God," hissed Harry, "It's that blasted innkeeper! What does he think we've done?"

Then he and Hermione looked down at Ron who was staring, utterly clueless, at the door with his doe-like black eyes. He blinked innocently and sniffed the air.

"We can't let him see Ron!" whispered Hermione, "He hate's animals!"

"Oh, it's worse than that, Hermione, a niffler is a magical creature! We'd be in so much trouble if a muggle saw him!"

The door knob turned, but the mound of books prevented it from opening. "Open this door immediately!"

"Haven't you ever heard of privacy?" Harry yelled back as he and Hermione ran around in circles, trying to find a place to hide Ron.

The three friends collided with each other and Ron fell to the floor with a thud where he ruffled his quills angrily and tapped the floor with his spade-shaped feet.

"Uh…just a second," said Hermione, rubbing her forehead.

Finally she opened the sliding glass door and pushed the unsuspecting niffler out with her foot, closing the door behind him. Ron rolled off the cement, passed Crookshanks, and skid on the unkempt grass.

He turned his snout back and tried to say "Hey!" but it only came out as a grunt reminiscent of a pig.

Hermione turned, not looking at Ron, to clear the books quickly with her wand. They half-heartedly toppled over. Harry tried to close the curtains to hide Ron from sight, but they would only close half way.

None the less, the both of them cried, "Come in!"

The door burst open, clearing the remaining books out of the way, and the innkeeper stepped in wearing a plaid shirt, brown pants, fuzzy bunny slippers and a frown. He had a big ruddy face that reminded Harry of his Uncle Vernon except that instead of a mustache, this man had a beard. He stared around the room with piggy eyes and sniffed with disapproval.

"This place is a pig sty," said the man, "What the hell have you been doing all night?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and said, "Nothing."

Outside, Ron was smarting with anger, but what was he going to do? Sit at the door and glare at them? Yes, that sounded good. Shaking his quills for the billionth time that morning, he turned around and found himself staring and the squashed and deviously fluffy face of Crookshanks. He gulped nervously and scampered for the door.

"Nothing?" the innkeeper smiled in a mean sort of way, "Well then, you wouldn't be able to explain the plague of frogs that some of my," he sniffed, "Better guests experienced last night?"

"Plague of frogs?" asked Hermione with false interest, "I'm sorry, but we haven't seen any frogs."

"Oh haven't you?"

"No, actually we haven't," said Harry, perturbed, "And what makes you think that we would have something to do with a plague of frogs?"

The innkeeper snorted, "Oh come now."

There was a small thump against the glass door and Hermione turned around quickly to see Ron there, scrabbling at it. She gasped and backed up quickly to hide him with her legs.

"What's that?" asked the innkeeper suspiciously, trying to see around Hermione's legs.

"Nothing, nothing at all," said Hermione in a very unconvincing way. Harry covered his eyes with his hand and shook his head. "So…" she continued weakly, "So, you say you've been having some frog trouble?"

"More than trouble, missy," said the innkeeper, pointing a pudgy finger at her, "A plague and I know that you let them loose!"

"What?"

"We did nothing of the sort," said Hermione.

Outside, Ron was having troubles of is own. "Nice kitty," he tried to signal Crookshanks with a look, "It's me, Ron, remember?" But, he must have just looked like lunch because Crookshanks' bow legs were getting reading to spring.

Ron looked around and the urge to dig grew stronger until he knew that he would have to give into it at last. He stretched out his paws and, with a speed that he never knew he possessed, dug deep into the earth. Crookshanks, who had realized too late what Ron was going to do, pounced for the little niffler. However, Ron had vanished and in his place was a hole in the ground. The ginger cat yowled as it sank, squashed face first, into the burrow.

"I know rotten animal lovers when I see em'!" said the innkeeper, "You nutters are all the same! Tailing around owls and cats and ruddy frogs!"

"We had nothing to do with you're frog problem!" said Harry, "You're accusations are ridiculous!"

They heard Crookshanks mewing and the three of them gazed out the door, Harry and Hermione trying to hide the spectacle from the innkeeper without success. It looked as though the cat was growing out of the ground! His bow legs and bottle brush tail were flailing wildly as he attempted to scramble out of Ron's trap.

The innkeeper was laughing heartily. "I've never seen cat tails grow that way!" he spluttered between guffaws.

As Harry turned angrily to the innkeeper, Hermione flung open the door and yelled "Oh, Crookshanks!" But, the cat had already freed himself and hissed at her, running off into the trees.

Underground, Ron had no idea what was taking place above his head, nor did it matter to him. He had never felt so safe and sound before. Beneath the earth, that was where he was meant to be. He loved the damp smell, the cozy feel, the softness, the coolness, and the promise of uncovering secret and shiny things! A burrow was the only place to live.

The Burrow, thought Ron, The Burrow? That's where I live! My real home! Ron, you're a human remember?

The feeling that he belonged there under ground disappeared to be replaced by panic and a need for fresh air. He began to burrow up.

"Hey, now," said the innkeeper, recovering and looking around, "Wasn't there another one of you?"

"Another one?" asked Harry, testily. He did not like this innkeeper at all and wished that there was another inn in Godric's Hollow.

"Yeah, the tall one with red hair."

"Oh," said Harry, "He's left. But, he'll be back."

The innkeeper sniffed distrustfully, "Not, by any chance, off to market to get some more frogs to set loose?" he asked.

"Listen," Harry snapped, "I paid good money for this room and when I paid I expected that my right to privacy would be respected. Now, unless you're willing to give me my money back, I suggest you get out of my room!"

The innkeeper's face became a blotchy red color and he leaned over to look Harry in the face. "You might have paid for this room, boy," he said, "But, this is my inn and I'm not about to let some animal loving freaks destroy it! Now, if anything else happens; if I so much as catch a whiff of anything funny going on in my inn, I'll know exactly where to go. Is that clear?"

Harry did not answer. He wanted desperately to hit the man, but held it back. They needed the room. They had no where else to go.

At last, the innkeeper turned around and left, leaving Harry to shut the door behind him.

"What a mess." Harry said, stepping outside where Hermione was trying to coax Crookshanks over to her.

"Come here, Crookshanks, I'm sorry that happened to you, I won't let it happen again!"

But, Crookshanks was having none of it! He turned his bottle brush tail to Hermione and dashed off into the thicket of trees.

"Oh, come back!" she called, chasing after him and it was at that precise moment that Ron had decided to come out.

Harry saw Ron's head emerge from the ground in front of Hermione. He ran forward and yelled, "Look out!" but it was too late. Hermione tripped over Ron and then Harry tripped over Hermione, landing on top of her.

"Ouch!"

Completely unharmed, Ron popped out of his burrow and shook the dirt from his quills. He looked over to see Harry and Hermione splayed and aching on the ground and felt satisfied. The vindicated niffler waddled over to them and the three of them went back inside, Ron sniggering silently.

"That was close." said Harry.

"Oh, Ron, what were you thinking?" asked Hermione who was very upset about her cat.

Ron glared at her as best he could. It was not his fault! She was the one who had shoved him outside to face that monstrosity of a pet. And all these years he thought that he and Crookshanks had an understanding; you think you know a cat. He was the victim here!

"That horrible innkeeper!" Hermione exclaimed, "Laughing like that! And what was all that crap about us letting in frogs."

"I don't know," said Harry, dusting himself off, "But, I do know that we don't have time for this."

"You're right," she said, taking Ron in her arms and sitting down on the couch, "You'd best get going."

"About what I said earlier," said Harry, slipping on a light jacket, "Hermione, it was a stupid idea, we can't split up. What if…"

"What if it starts raining chickens, Harry?" she interrupted, "Someone should be trying to change Ron back so don't you worry about it! I'm sure that there must be something in one of these books."

"Alright," he said tentatively, "But I'll be back before dark to tell you everything I find!"

"Great," said Hermione, "See you!"

"See you." Harry replied and left.

Hermione picked up the closest transfiguration book that she could find and began to read. Unconsciously, she started to stroke Ron's quills gently. He liked sitting there on her lap. It was quite comfortable and warm there. He curled up into a ball and thought that he might fall asleep listening to the sound of her heart beating steadily.

Her heart. He thought of Victor Krum and his beautiful gift and snarled quietly. It was such a shiny gift. He wanted nothing more than to take it away from her and burry it under the soft sweet earth so they would never see it gleam again.