Something Familiar

by genericdarklord

First-year students at Hogwarts summon Familiars. While most are harmless, some are things a teen shouldn't be in charge of. Carnivorous flower spirits, armored murder-owls and walking incarnations of fury roam the halls of Hogwarts. This is just as bad of an idea as it sounds. Probably even worse. Our "heroes" might just save the world, assuming they don't destroy it first.

6. A Familiar Summoning?

Something Familiar (Mk. 2)

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Something Familiar (Mk.2)

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Chapter Six

"A Familiar Summoning"

AKA

"Copy + Paste = 'New' Chapter"

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If there was one word that could describe the Summoning, that word would be "boring as fuck."

Okay, so that's like five words. But the point stands.

Seeing a dog or cat or something pop out of a poof of smoke was incredible the first time. It was pretty cool the second through fifth time. Rounds six to eleven were mildly interesting, but twelve…

Well, it all sort of went downhill from there.

Of the fifty-odd first-years, precious few were blessed with something that was actually interesting. These exceptions were few and far between, and certainly not worth sitting around on a stone bench all morning.

It was that little detail that pissed Hermione off.

The Summoning Chamber, buried deep beneath the castle, was incredible.

It was huge, carved straight out of the bedrock bones of the Earth, and supposedly located on the intersection of several major ley lines. Legend was that Merlin, upon deciding no wizard should ever be alone, had chosen the location for exactly that reason.

Legend also said that Merlin did this after getting piss-drunk, hitting on the barmaid and getting punched, hitting on the bar donkey and getting kicked, talking an epic piss and probably doing some pixie dust, possibly snorted straight off the pixie's back. Historians were kind of on the fence as to whether it was amazing that he could perform such incredible magic while drunk, twice-concussed and tripping out of his mind, or if the whole episode was just kind of really sad.

The chamber was huge. In the center was a massive, perfectly circular slab of stone. Deep grooves had been cut into it, forming a complex geometric pattern. Light flowed - literally flowed, like it was water - through the cracks in shades of deep scarlet and brilliant blue. That same light flowed up the pillars spaced evenly around the pattern, forming glowing runes despite the lack of a groove to contain them.

Which brings us back to Hermione's griping:

"He made this whole thing in one night, somehow defying anything that even approaches rationality, but he couldn't make a better seat than a narrow stone bench? Seriously? My rear is going numb from sitting here! It's like the world's most cramped movie theater, only with seats worse than my school's bleachers! And don't even get me started on this table. It's barely wide enough for my breakfast."

Overall, boring as fuck is definitely the right word(s).

The student would enter the circle and their head of house would help them set up the spell. Each would then display their "offering" to their head of house. It was a symbolic thing more than anything, representing an offering of a fragment of the wizard's soul. Technically it was supposed to be your most precious belonging, but wizarding parents frequently gave their children something expensive or impressive to bring, in the hopes that it would catch a powerful Familiar's eye.

It didn't actually work like that, but people are dumb.

Finally, the professor would leave the circle, allowing their student to recite a brief incantation to finish the spell. Boom. One Summoning, hot and fresh.

It was pretty easy to see why such forms of magic had, for the most part, fallen out of favor. There was a fair degree of time and effort that went into it, and that was with the chamber itself doing the heavy lifting. Hermione shuddered to think what the spell would take without that, being the only one (aside from possibly King) who had actually looked into the Summoning Chamber and what it actually did.

There were three books in her trunk written on nothing but that very subject. By virtue of her skill with numbers and the terminology picked up from a great many fantasy novels, she understood roughly 3% of what they said. She was optimistically hoping that number would go up to 30% or so by the time she graduated. It was disappointing, but the fact that no one really understood it made her feel better.

All attempts to replicate the chamber had resulted in an inferior product, a spectacular explosion, the sinking of Atlantis, or some combination of the three. The circle at the Salem Academy of Spells and Sorcery (an unfortunate acronym if she ever heard one) took two hours to do what the chamber beneath Hogwarts did in fifteen minutes.

So far it hadn't sunk Atlantis, though. That was something, I guess.

Even at fifteen minutes a pop, going through all the first-years took the bulk of a day. It was a long, arduous process that they all had to be present for because tradition, and because the professors took it seriously enough to make skiving pretty hard.

Unlike poor Hermione, skipping the boring and uncomfortable parts is definitely an options for us.

So let's do that, shall we?

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Granger, Hermione (Gryffindor)

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Energy crackled across the circle.

Someone laughed. She knew immediately that it wasn't another student. The sound had an unearthly, echoing quality to it. It was rich, deep and almost seemed to echo in her ears.

"Well, now. What have we here?" a smooth voice asked from behind her.

Hermione slowly turned around.

There was nothing there.

Blinking in confusion, she turned back just in time to see her offering, an old and worn paperback copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, leap into the air. The book simply hung there in front of her, bobbing slightly as the pages flipped rapidly. After several seconds the book stopped paging through itself.

"Oh, this is my favorite part," the voice proclaimed as the book flipped around to face her. "'The Cat only grinned when it saw Alice. It looked goodnatured, she thought : still it had very long claws and a great many teeth, so she felt it ought to be treated with respect.' No wonder the silly girl kept her head. If her head was a bucket full of thoughts, there'd barely be a hole in it at all. The size of a small marble, perhaps?"

The book dropped lower, revealing a smile floating in the air. It wasn't attached to anything. There was no body, nor anything else of the sort. It was simply a set of grinning teeth, hovering several feet above the ground. The corners of the smile tilted up a bit more as she stared at it in shock.

Her eyes widened. "No. That's impossible."

A cat with light orange and dark orange stripes running down its body faded into view around the grin.

"My dear, the impossible is merely that which has yet to be done. All that is impossible is doomed to become naught but history. Surely a bright girl would realize this, and you must be bright. You called for me, after all."

"You- you're not real…"

"Am I not? How strange. I feel quite real to me. Then again, I suppose the unreal would feel real to something that lacks a certain quality of realness." the cat patted itself down. "Ah, well. Regardless, it is quite a pleasure to meet you. If there's one thing the Cheshire needs, it is a girl to befuddle."

"I- I knew something like this was going to happen." Hermione sighed. "We'd better get back to the stands."

"Ah, a feast awaits. You must be quite mad, inviting a flight of fancy to dinner."

Hermione sighed. "Let's just go, okay?"

"As you wish. Do you perchance have any food of the 'not real' sort? I feel it may be difficult to partake, otherwise," the cat chuckled. "And an imaginary cup of tea would certainly not go amiss."

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Longbottom, Neville (Gryffindor)

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Neville stood in the center of the Summoning circle, his heart beating far too fast. This was it. This was his chance to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was a wizard. This was his chance to prove he was worthy of the Longbottom name. He had no expectation of getting something great. He just wanted anything, even a cockroach would do.

Of course, something awesome would be nice, too. Just the thought of Uncle Algie rolling in a gelatin-filled grave made him smile on the inside. It should go without saying it wasn't a particularly nice smile.

With a great amount of trepidation, he recited the spell.

For a long, long moment, there was naught but silence. It was, to drop a far too frequently used cliche, almost deafening in its silenceness. Neville honestly had no idea how silence could actually be deafening, but it seemed to fit. If he had to guess, he'd say it probably had something to do with his sudden realization of what had just happened, and the way the panic gnawing at the edges of his mind was rapidly drowning out the confused whispers that were just starting up around the chamber.

Then the noise began.

It was a strange scraping sound, like dry leaves blowing across pavement. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, closing in on him from all sides. A few startled shouts came from around the chamber as something brushed across the feet of unsuspecting children.

From all around the chamber vines were slowly slithering into the circle. Their large thorns scrambled across the stone as they went, producing the strange sound. Onward they stretched. He had no idea where they'd come from, but it was obvious where they were going.

They were all heading for the boy standing frozen in the center of the chamber.

The vines met before him, twisting around each other and forming a solid mass. They sort of fused together and became one entity, a thick stalk covered in large thorns that glistened ominously in the dim light. A flower, an enormous black orchid, quickly grew from it. After a moment, the beautiful flower bloomed.

There was a girl in the center. She had the blackest hair he had ever seen, braided tight across her skull and falling loosely around her shoulders. Slim with a modest bust, she had the build of a seasoned gymnast. Her pale skin almost glowed in the dim light of the chamber.

She was also completely naked. That fact was more or less lost on Neville as he stared at her in wonder, but there were more than a couple of students in the stands that definitely noticed it.

She leaned forward towards Neville, arms spread wide. With a smile on her face, she beckoned him forwards.

McGonagall shot to her feet, slamming her palm down on the stone table before her. The surface shifted and rippled slightly as she pushed off it, the grey stone turning a much deeper black. Fingers curling against it, she took half a step forward.

That was about as far as they got before Dumbledore quickly placed a hand on her shoulder and brought her to a halt with surprising strength.

"Albus-"

"Now Minerva, you well know that a Familiar cannot harm her master." he said soothingly.

"But it-"

"Just let them be. It will be fine, I promise you."

Neville slowly walked forward, examining the creature he'd summoned. It was obviously some sort of plant, but it was like nothing he had ever seen or heard of. Since he'd read every book on plants he could get, both magical and mundane, that was quite surprising. He wondered where she'd come from.

The girl in the flower, for her part, was still motioning with her arms, urging him to move even closer.

He complied, approaching close enough that he could easily reach out and touch her. She once again held her arms out. It took him a moment, but he eventually figured out what she was trying to say.

He stepped forward, moving within easy reach of her. With a brilliant smile she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him. The petals of the giant flower closed around them both, drawing startled gasps from several students. Dumbledore was forced to restrain the deputy headmistress again.

After a moment, the petals fell away. They immediately wilted, dissolving into nothing before they hit the ground.

Neville stood alone in the center of the circle. He had one arm raised and was staring at it with a look of wonder on his face. Several thorny vines were wrapped tightly around the limb. He could feel the needle-sharp tips pricking gently at his skin, but none actually pierced his flesh.

"Wicked."

The vines around his body gave a slight squeeze. He supposed it was supposed to be something like a hug.

Neville happily picked up his mini-orchid and headed back for the stands. He'd been a bit worried about using the delicate plant in the ritual, but it seemed to have come out fine.

Besides, there was no arguing with the results.

To bad Uncle Algie's not still around. I'd love to grab his pathetic cockatiel and feed it to-

The boy paused suddenly.

Where had that thought even come from? He'd always hated the stupid bird almost as much as his stupid uncle, but that seemed like a bit much. After all, it wasn't the poor bird's fault her master was an asshole. Uncle Algie was the one who had lorded the bird over him, acting like the pathetic sack of feathers somehow made him special. All those comments about Neville getting a cockroach if he was lucky, when all he had was an ugly old bird…

In retrospect, he almost felt bad for his uncle. It was kind of sad that he thought so much of himself, with so little to actually back it up. Maybe he should plant some flowers around his grave or something. He'd really be doing the guy a favor, and that bit of estate was far too nice to do nothing but house the body of a miserable old bastard.

Besides, feeding the plants would probably be the most useful thing the man'd done in his life.

Err… death.

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Potter, Harry (Gryffindor)

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Harry tried to steel his nerves as he walked into the center of the circle. Reasonably speaking, he knew he wasn't expected to do anything extraordinary here. He'd already seen a whole bunch of his classmates do it without any problem. That included Hermione and Neville, whom he knew for sure didn't have any more experience with it than he did.

Of course, that was part of the problem. Both of his friends had managed to set the bar ridiculously high.

Trying to swallow his anxiety, Harry numbly finished setting things up. At least he could take comfort in the fact that he hadn't messed that part up.

"Now then, Mr. Potter, I assume you remembered your offering?" McGonagall asked. Behind her, Ash was peering out from behind her legs and giving him a look that clearly said, "You fucking better have…"

Harry nodded, producing his wand.

His ash wand.

McGonagall's eyes widened in shock as they fixed upon the length of sandy grey wood. For a moment Harry could swear there was a hint of suspicious wariness in her eyes.

"Mr. Potter… what is that?"

Harry looked back and forth between his wand and her face, trying to figure out if it was some kind of joke. "It's my wand, professor. That's what I'm offering."

"...I see. Mr. Potter, I was under the impression that your wand was made out of birch," his head of house said slowly. "You do realize that offering another's wand in this ritual would be a folly of catastrophic proportions, correct?"

"Oh, that's my other wand," Harry replied, suddenly understanding. "I like this one better."

"...and you are certain that is the one you would like to offer? Wouldn't the other be better? After all, you are technically giving it away. Perhaps keeping the one you favor would be best."

This time Harry couldn't help but give her a confused frown. "I thought it was supposed to be something really important. My other wand isn't important."

McGonagall sighed in resignation. "Very well, Mr. Potter. Not even I have the right to interfere with your Summoning Ritual, and your choice of offering is part of that. Just…"

"Just…?"

"Please wait until I am clear of the Circle before you begin. Well clear."

McGonagall beat a hasty retreat, reclaiming her seat in the staff gallery. 'Hasty' being a relative term, of course, because she'd be damned if she was about to move fast enough to look undignified. Her Familiar didn't have the same problem, though. Ash took off across the platform as soon as she turned, moving so fast she could hear his claws on the stone.

From the seat beside her, Hagrid asked, "Should I be taking cover behind the table?" in a tone that was clearly only half joking.

"..."

"I'm certain it will be alright."

"You do remember replacing one of your cabin's walls the first time you saw that blasted thing, don't you? If I recall, that was a simple Banishing Spell."

Hagrid hesitated before replying, "James was a jammy bloke, no doubt, but it never did react well to him. It seems quite taken with Harry."

"Perhaps. I can't help but think there was a reason it was sealed away in the Potter vault. If I had any sense it would have gone straight back there. Damn wand is going to be the death of me..."

In the center of the Chamber, Harry was actual having second thoughts for exactly the same reason. It had, belatedly, occurred to him that something he had been explicitly told was capable of causing unexpected carnage may not be the best choice for something like this. Unfortunately it was too late, because now he he was standing in full view, wand in hand. Everyone was watching.

If he put his wand away now, an explanation would no doubt be needed. No matter how he wracked his brain, he couldn't come up with a good one.

Not good enough to keep Fred from calling him a pussy, anyway. If he backed down now he would probably be getting shit for being afraid of his own wand for the next year or fifty.

Oh Vasco.

Screw it. If wizards could keep the accident-prone Weasley alive, they could probably stitch together whatever was left of him if all he managed to summon was a huge explosion.

Hopefully.

With a resigned shrug, Harry dropped his wand to the floor in the exact center of the chamber.

Hear my voice from distance unknown,

You whom hold half my soul.

Come to me and be my own.

Only you can make me whole.

The last words echoed briefly across the huge chamber. Harry waited with bated breath as they faded.

And waited.

And waited.

There was an awkward cough from somewhere in the chamber, momentarily breaking the even more awkward silence

This wasn't like with Neville. In his case, people had only just begun to think something was wrong when the vines appeared. Harry had passed that point long ago.

Was this it? Had he managed to prove he shouldn't be here by failing something literally any wizard should be able to do? Was he doomed to return to the Dursley's, his life only made that much worse by the knowledge of this failure? Did-

"Ooh~, what're we looking at?"

The sudden question sent Harry's depressing train of thought careening right off the rails. He tried to suppress a frightened squeak, but the cheerful voice had come from directly behind him. Just inches behind him, actually. Close enough that he could feel warm breath on the back of his neck. It was more than enough to startle him, causing him to try and turn and leap away at the same time. When that didn't work so well, so he settled for awkwardly hitting the ground and scrambling away on all fours.

He took comfort in the fact that several quite audible gasps came from the stands. All those people making surprised noises were a good distance away and staring right at the circle, and they had still been surprised. His reaction seemed pretty appropriate, considering how close behind him she had suddenly appeared.

Who was he kidding? His redheaded friends were going to have a field day with this.

Harry stared up at the person that had appeared behind him with wide eyes.

It was a girl.

That fact, at least, was pretty hard to miss. If Lady was excessively feminine in an unreal way, the sudden arrival was feminine in a very, very real sense. Curved hips, a narrow waist and huge… tracts of land made that abundantly clear. The halter top and a pair of shorts cut high enough to show a bit of hip, both of which were tight enough to be a second skin, just drew even more attention to the fact.

Two other things about her immediately stood out to Harry.

The first was her hair. It was a brilliant scarlet, even brighter than the twins'. The shade was almost unnatural. It hung down her back in a tangled mane so long that the ends brushed the floor. A thin black and red ribbon wound randomly through it was the only thing that held it in something even remotely resembling order.

A single silver bell hung off the strip of fabric on one side, just a bit below and behind her jaw.

The second thing that occurred to him was that she definitely wasn't human .

The amber eyes she was staring at him were an amber shade he was pretty sure a person shouldn't have. Her pupils were nothing more than narrow gashes, much like the Adder's. She had long nails that extended at least a few centimeters past her fingertips. They were so narrow he could actually see parts of her finger that should have been covered, and so thick they looked more like they were coming out of the digits instead of resting atop them.

They also tapered to a rather nasty point that he was certain he wouldn't like to be poked with.

"Uh… hi?" Harry said uncertainty.

"Shh!" she immediately hushed him. "I'm looking at… What am I looking at?"

It occurred to Harry that she wasn't exactly looking at him. Frowning, he waved his hand, then took several steps to the side. She continued looking fixedly at a point several meters behind where he had been standing.

"There's… there's nothing there…" Harry pointed out.

The girl gave an irritated huff and dropped unceremoniously back onto her rear. "Why are we looking at nothing? It isn't very interesting, you know. We should be looking at something, not nothing. Something is almost always more fun to look at. Nothing just gets boring after a while." she complained. Her eyes remained fixed on the center of the circle the entire time.

"Um... excuse me, but-" Harry began, only to be cut off.

"Oh! You're something, aren't you? It'd probably be more fun to watch you. People are almost always interesting. Sometimes, anyway," the girl observed. Despite this, she continued to stare fixedly at the middle of the room.

The students watching the spectacle were beginning to realize something was off. He could already hear quiet whispers around the room. A few people were had started giggling quietly. It was only a matter of time before his audience started laughing in earnest.

Harry decided it would be a good idea to just bull straight on ahead.

"Look, you're my Familiar, aren't you?" he asked.

The girl's head whipped around so quickly that Harry was surprised she didn't break her own neck. Her eyes bored into him with frightening intensity. A shiver of fear ran through Harry's body.

"I summoned you, right? You're my familiar?" Harry repeated weakly. He wasn't sure how he'd managed to get that out around the lump in his throat. He felt pinned down, like he was struggling under an oppressive weight that made it hard to breath, let alone move.

"You... summoned... me...?" she asked slowly. "You summoned me? Here? You're the one that called me?"

Harry nodded uncertainty. "I- I think so…"

The girl sprang to her feet, going from sprawled on the floor to standing in an impossibly fast movement. Harry suddenly found himself being examined from mere centimeters away. The rapid approach should have caused him to flinch back, but his entire body was simply locked up beneath her intense stare. Something about her eyes sent a freezing wave down his spine and caused his brain to come to a screeching halt.

He was absolutely certain he now knew exactly what the phrase, "like a deer in the headlights," meant.

"I heard something. It was… nice. It's been so long since… That was you? You were calling me?" she asked in a broken and uneven fashion, as if she was having trouble string the words together.

Harry nodded again.

"I see," she said, leaning in to study him from a bit closer.

Harry had the distinct feeling he was being judged somehow, and couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he was found wanting. He was starting to wonder if this whole thing had been a good idea after all.

"Hmm~, so that means…"

Harry tried to swallow the lump growing in his throat. "That means…?"

"Mine," she said quietly.

Something must have changed at that point, because the freezing feeling running down his spine vanished in an instant. His borderline terror evaporated like morning mist beneath the rising sun. In its place, it left a mild sense of confusion.

"Uh, mine? Mine what?"

"Mine!" she repeated happily, this time nearly shouting. She wiggled her rear - a move that was quite interesting to many of the students behind her, given her figure - then hurled herself into the air.

The was just enough time for Harry's jaw to drop open in shock before sixty-two kilograms of ballistic redhead slammed into him. The impact drove him down and slammed him into the floor hard enough to drive the air from his lungs. He gasped for breath, but quickly discovered breathing was quite a bit harder than it should be.

"I have a boy! I have a boy!" she happily sang out. Her arms were wrapped around his head, shoving his face deep into her cleavage. Harry was desperately trying to get away, but his struggles just seemed to be encouraging her to hug him tighter. It was like she thought he was trying to escape (which he was) and was bound and determined to not let it happen (which she was).

Someone in the hall muttered, "Lucky..."

"Damn it! Why'd you bite me!?" a second, nearly identical voice demanded a half-second later. "He said it!"

Not even noticing this interjection, the girl happily announced, "I have a boy!" yet again. She grabbed Harry's shoulders and triumphantly held him aloft for all to see. "I have a- uh... are boys usually all blue?"

"Ack." Harry said. It was turning out to be a long week. That probably wasn't a good sign, considering it'd just begun.

"Are you okay, My Boy?" she inquired. She curiously tilted her head to one side, trying to get a better look at his face. The sharp movement jarred the bell tied into her hair. It produced a sharp jingle that echoed through the hall.

She froze, dropping Harry onto the hard chamber floor. Her eyes widened and her body tensed. Without warning, she suddenly whirled around.

"Bell!" Jingle. Whirl.

"Bell!" Jingle. Whirl.

"Bell!" Jingle. Whirl.

"Bell!" Jingle. Whirl.

The entire hall just looked on silently. This was just a bit beyond ridiculous, even for the wizarding world. No one was quite sure what to do. Should they stop it, or just let things play out?

"Bell!" Jingle. Whirl.

"Bell!" Jingle.

A small hand shot out and latched onto the offending object. It was deftly removed from its ribbon. Even as she began to turn, Harry held the bell out in front of him.

The girl froze and gazed lovingly at the silver ball. "Bell..." she observed softly.

"Yeah. Bell. Here." Harry managed to choke out between gasps. He had managed to recover quite a bit during her bell-induced spaz attack, but he wasn't quite back up to 100%.

"You got me a bell?" she asked in an awed tone. She took it from him and examined it carefully. "Thank you, My Boy. It even matches my-"

She froze, one hand raised to her hair. Her eyes were wide with horror. She began frantically patting her head, tugging the spot from which the bell had originally hung.

"My bell! My bell is gone! I lost my bell!" she wailed.

This proved to be the final straw. Someone in the audience started laughing. It didn't take long for others to join him.

"Seriously, Potter? A retarded muggle? That's the best you can do?" a familiar voice shouted from the audience. It was pretty clear that it was half amused, half disappointed, and mostly intended to poke fun at him.

An instant later three things occurred to Harry at roughly the same time:

1) Obviously his classmates were too far away to see the girl's odd (and somewhat scary) features.

2) Some people clearly didn't quite catch that Draco was more or less just giving him shit.

3) The redheaded woman was no longer standing in front of him.

A piercing scream split the air.

Oh, there she is.

Several students had been dislodged from the bench Draco was previously on. The boy himself was lying prone at the edge of the circle. His terrified look and gaping mouth made it obvious he was the source of the shriek.

The redhead was crouched on his chest, pinning him to the ground. Her left arm was held to one side, fingers splayed out and nails just barely touching the stone floor.. Her other hand was poised over Draco's face.

From his new, prone position Draco had no problem seeing the redhead's less-than-human features. In fact, he had a very good view of them, especially the nasty points her nails ended in. Two of them were positioned just above his eyeballs, so close that he could swear he actually felt them resting on his cornea. The touch was light enough that he wasn't even sure he felt it, but still just barely noticeable.

"You make a lot of annoying squeaking noises. I think you might be a mousie." she announced. She was amusing herself by drawing figure-eights across his pupil with the back of her nails. Despite her using the backside, they were still angled in a way that would make it very easy to drive them down. "Are you a mousie?"

Trying very hard not to move, Draco whimpered, "No..."

"Oh? Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The girl sighed in disappointment. "Oh, that's too bad. I love mousies. Love them to pieces!"

She grinned at Draco.

Draco pissed himself.

He really tried not to, but he couldn't help it. The girl's smile was probably the most horrific thing he had ever seen. Her canines started in the front and went all the way back. She had neither molars nor incisors, just an entire mouth full of frighteningly sharp points. It was the sort of mouth that belonged on a horrible carnivorous monster, not a girl.

(A/N: My wife's exact google docs note, "He doesn't know much about girls does he?")

It didn't take much imagination to figure out what they could do to flesh, or even bone.

"Young lady!" McGonagall's stern voice snapped out. "That is enough!"

The girl twisted at the waist, turning to look at the professor curiously. Draco breathed a sigh of relief as the frightening pressure left his eyes. Resting a nail against her front teeth, she curiously asked, "Is that me?"

"Of course!" McGonagall snapped. She continued across the circle toward them, her familiar trailing behind her. Her wand was held loosely in her hand. She hated this part of her job, but being deputy headmistress made her responsible for maintaining order in the school. That meant dealing with familiars that got out of line and refused to back down.

Hopefully it wouldn't come to that. Whatever the girl was, she seemed fairly good-natured, if a little over-protective.

"Oh... I kinda figured. Haven't been a lady lo~ong time, but if someone's yelling, they're usually yelling at me." she said sagely.

"This is just what I needed." McGonagall muttered. Louder, she said, "Yes, I would imagine. Would you kindly remove yourself from Mr. Malfoy?"

"Mr. Whonow?"

McGonagall allowed herself to smile slightly. "The... mousie."

"Nope."

Minerva stared at the girl in shock. She wasn't even sure when the last time someone had said something like that to her, but it had been a very long time.

"...no?"

"Uh-huh. We're not done playing. Mousies like to play until they get re~ally tired and go to sleep," she said sagely. "Mousies are lazy, and they like to sleep for a lo~ong time. I dunno how long, though. I usually get bored waiting for them to wake up and eat them."

Draco whimpered.

"There will be no… .playing of that sort here. Am I clear?" McGonagall said firmly. "We prefer our mousies not get that tired."

The girl met her stern gaze, tilting her head and humming with a thoughtful look on her face. Despite being on the wrong end of a rather intense stare, she was clearly completely uncowed. In fact, it was equally obvious she was actually trying to decide whether or not to comply.

Finally her eyes drifted down to the professor's covered arm. They lingered the for a moment as she told her head the other way, then grinned again. "Hmm… will you play with me, then? I think you might be lots of fun. Might be more fun than a mousie. Been a long time since I played like that, too."

Before McGonagall could respond, a soft voice asked, "Can you please get off of him? He's my friend… I think. Either way, I think he was just having fun… uh… joking, I mean. No fun. Just joking."

The girl's eyes immediately shifted from McGonagall's arm to Harry. Her eyes widened in wonder the moment her gaze fixed on his face. She'd clearly been so focused on the professor she hadn't noticed him approaching, but now that she had…

"My Boy," she whispered.

"Oh vasco,"

Luckily for Harry, who hadn't been looking forward to another visit to Pillow Hell, she didn't make it to him. Professor McGonagall's hand shot out and grabbed her hair as she went past. The old witch was obviously much stronger than she appeared. She not only managed to keep her grip to on the red mess, but her stance barely shifted as she hauled the girl to a screeching halt.

The redhead's eyes widened in shock. The bottom half of her body kept moving even as the top was brought up short. Her legs shot out from under her, still making a flailing pedaling motion. She desperately grabbed the base of her mane with both hands.

"Ack! My tail!" she shrieked in horror.

McGonagall released her hair. Forward momentum completely arrested, the familiar slammed straight down into the ground. She impacted with a very audible thud.

"Owie..."

"Now then. I think that's enough of that," harrumphed the teacher. "Mr. Potter, you will take your Familiar and rejoin the rest of your house. Do try to keep her under control."

"I'm sorry, professor." Harry said sadly. He had been hoping to get through this without embarrassing himself. Still, it looked like had managed to summon a Familiar. She was a little weird, but...

Okay, she was a lot weird.

"Come on, let's go sit with my friends, okay?" Harry suggested. "This is really important, and we don't want to ruin it for other people.

His Familiar, who had been trying to glare a hole right through McGonagall, turned at his voice. Her gaze immediately softened. "Okay, My Boy. If you say so."

Gently nudging his hand to the side, she slid lithely to her feet. Once she was standing again it was easy to see why she'd refused his help. She was almost half a meter taller than him and probably twice his weight. If he'd tried to haul her up, he probably would've just ended up on the ground next to her. Somehow he hadn't noticed that before. He supposed it shouldn't come as a surprise, considering how hard she'd managed to hit both him and Malfoy.

McGonagall watched the pair head for the Gryffindor benches. The staff was going to have their work cut out for them with this bunch of students. Longbottom's summon alone would be headache enough, but it was far from the only problematic one. When you added in the more "colorful" familiars from previous years...

It was never a good sign when you started getting migraines during the first week. This was probably going to be a long year.

She turned back to the hapless student on the ground. To her surprise, there was now another Draco there. The new addition was perfectly identical to the prone boy in every way. It was as if Draco had suddenly acquired a twin brother.

The second blond had the traumatized boy's head in his lap and was stroking his forehead soothingly. He looked up at McGonagall with concerned eyes and asked, "Shall he beest good?"

Sister, McGonagall corrected herself. The second Draco's voice was quite obviously feminine. She was hoping against hope that didn't mean what she thought it did. "You are Mr. Malfoy's familiar, then?"

"I bethought he needst holp. Mine own f'rm is divine, but being small is oft inconvenient. Besides, this corse is quite quaint enow."

Wonderful. "I'm fairly sure your master will be fine, but it'd be a good idea to get him to the Hospital Wing. I assume won't mind escorting him?"

Female Draco made a disgusted face. "Mine own mast'r? Nay living thing is w'rthy of yond title. I'll hark to this one because his visage is fair, i supposeth, but that gent c'rtainly is nay mast'r of mineth."

Even as McGonagall was seriously considering a career change, the blonde familiar gently set Draco down and stood.

"Cometh anon, mine own quaint one. We wilt receiveth thee somewh're safe. T'wouldst beest a pity if 't be true thy visage wast did scar," the girl declared.

She easily hauled Draco to his feet, then gave him a gentle push towards the stands. The first-year began numbly stumbling forward, which was apparently good enough for her. The Familiar's body twisted and took on a silver sheen, then collapsed inward. An instant later there was sign of Draco's twin.

In her place, she left a small fairy-like creature. She almost looked like a doxy, but her entire body was composed of a silvery material akin to mercury. In that form, it was easy enough to identify her as the small spirit that had flown out of Malfoy's offering: a small, silver mirror given to him by Luscious.

Harry had to suppress a shiver as soon as Draco took it out of his pocket, though he didn't know why. For some reason the image of a particularly flamboyant pirate came to mind when he saw it.

As he slipped quietly back into his seat, Harry found himself the subject of a wide-eyed stare from Fred. The redhead had paled noticeably, and had a borderline frightened look on his face.

"Harry," he whispered. "I promise I won't make fun of you for screaming like a little girl. Not ever. Just let me keep my eyes."

The younger boy didn't have a chance to answer before he suddenly found his space being invaded. It seemed like Lady wasn't the only over-affectionate Familiar around, because the redhead had leapt into the seat and scooted far closer to him than necessary.

"Um, hi…"

"Mine," she replied quite simply.

Harry looked up and down the bench helplessly. When he didn't get anything even resembling a response he asked, "Is this how it's supposed to work? Because I think something might have gone wrong…"

"Dude. If that's how you screw things up, you've totally got to teach me!" Fred declared. He seemed to have gotten over his nervousness in an instant - not unusual for Fred, Harry supposed - and was eyeing their new friend. "I must learn your ways, oh master of bountiful failures."

It was a bit difficult, given the suddenly cramped conditions, but Harry managed to turn and give his new Familiar an uncertain look. She had a look of intense concentration on her face as she carefully tapped a portion of blood sausage with the back of her nail.

"Yeah… if you say so."

George chuckled. "Hey, your horrible and unforgivable lack of appreciation for this aside, at least nothing exploded. For a minute there you looked like you were afraid they'd be scraping bits of you off the walls."

Giggling nervously, Harry asked, "Why would you say that, George? That's ridiculous. There's absolutely no reason to think I'd accidentally cause fatal explosions."

"Oh, great. So you accidentally summon hotness incarnate, and now you're definitely not causing massive booms. That's not fair, Harrynuts. We're going to have to step up our game," Fred complained. "Do you have any idea how much work actually working is?"

"Please don't. I don't even know what you're talking about, and I still think 'stepping up your game' sounds like something I don't want to happen…" Hermione grumbled from his other side.

"Is this food?" Harry's familiar asked. She lifted her hand to display a chunk of black pudding impaled on her nail.

"That's… kind of open to interpretation…" George replied.

"That's black pudding, hotness. Calling it food is like calling the Goo friendly: it's a huge exaggeration."

"That's not an exaggeration, Fred. The Goo wasn't friendly at all. Not unless you consider sticking the eyeballs out of someone's skull and planting larva in their soul friendly."

"I rest my case."

"Please don't play with that… um…"

The Familiar turned away from the "food" long enough to give him an indulgent smile. "Silly My Boy, my name isn't Um," she declared, waggling her finger at him. The black pudding wobbled and flung small blobs in every direction.

"That's not what I meant… Wait, who are you?" Harry demanded, suddenly realizing he was lacking a crucial piece of information.

The Familiar frowned at the questionable foodstuff. "Who am I? I'm sorry, My Boy. I'm not very good at philosophical questions. I do know the answer is 42, though."

"That's… nice, I guess? But what's your name?"

"You are silly, My Boy. My name isn't What either. You can call me that if you want, though. It sounds a lot better than Um."

Harry groaned and rubbed his forehead. He was really hoping this want a sign of things to come. "Let's try again. Could you tell me your name?" he asked. Then, as soon as he saw her starting to open her mouth, added, "Don't say yes. Just tell me your name."

"Men'nace Asha Ve'nar shi Karaven an S'ieera," she replied promptly.

The table's other occupants started at her in disbelief.

"Wow. Okay…" Hermione muttered, pretty much summing the prevailing attitude up.

Except for Fred's, anyway. The Weasley giggled into his hands and asked, "Your name is Menace? Seriously?"

"Men'nace," she corrected. "My whole name means 'the beautiful goddess with hair of flame red,' or something like that," she said, frowning down at her hands as she tried to flick the black pudding off her nail. The questionable substance was stubbornly refusing to let go. "So, Men'nace would mean something like Crimson, I think. I'm not sure, though. My words don't turn into your words very well. It's weird, because I didn't know I could even use two sets of words."

"According to Magical Rituals of the Modern Era, Familiars often acquire their wizards linguistic skills when they're summoned. It helps facilitate communication between the two."

Men'nace stared back at Hermione with wide eyes. "Oh~, that makes sense."

"... you have no idea what I just said, do you?"

"Nope!" the Familiar admitted happily. "You can just call me Menace if you want. It's pretty."

"I'm not going to call you that. It's not nice," Harry replied.

She shrugged. "People've called me lots of not-nice things."

"Well I'm not going to be one of them."

"Aww~, My Boy is a nice boy," his Familiar cooed. "Peoples call me Kersa'vas Ain. It means… um…"

The others looked at her expectantly as she paused, a look of extreme concentration in her face.

"That doesn't change the words well at all. I think 'Angel's Song' is kind of close, though. Maybe."

Harry beamed. "See, that's much nicer! I'll call you Angel, then."

Angel made a strange face for a moment, then shrugged. "Nicer…? My Boy, are your angels nice things?"

"Of course. Wouldn't it be weird if they weren't?"

"Dunno. Your foods are really weird, though. I've had foods that tried to eat me first, and I still like it better than this…" Angel grumbled. She glare down are her hand, and the black pudding still impaled on her nail, then have her wrist a violent snap.

The hunk of nastiness finally slid off her finger. It arced high in the air, dribbling a trail of glistening drops as it went. There was a smattering of horrified cries a it flew overhead, punctuated with the sound of Gryffindors lunging forward to shield their plates with their bodies. A moment later the panicked shouts were replaced by a collective sigh of relief as it sailed out of their section entirely.

They may have been the house of the brave, but no one wanted a closer encounter with that stuff.

Unfortunately for at least one person, the Ravenclaw students rarely paid attention to what was happening in the 'less enlightened' houses.

"Ow! My eye!" came a feminine shriek from further down the chamber.

"Ohmygod! Cho!"

Angel looked toward the cries for a moment, then quickly hid her hands behind her back. "Didn'tdoit! Can't prove did it!"

"Do what?" Harry asked, giving her a confused look.

"Hit the girl with the thing. I mean, I didn't hit the girl with the thing!"

George gasped, "Someone hit Chang with a chunk of black pudding? When did that happen?"

"I dunno, George, I must've missed it," Fred replied. "Bummer. I would've liked to see that."

"I bet you'll have a chance, brother. She strikes me as the type that's gonna take a lot of sausage to the chin in the future."

"Brother!" Fred snapped. "How dare you say something so horrible and even more true!?"

Hermione sighed and buried her face in her hands. "And to think, I was actually hoping someone would like me… If I had any idea it would be you two…"

Fred gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder and said, "It's okay. We all have to learn somehow," sympathetically.

"You have fun friends, My Boy."

Harry turned to frown at Angel. "Are you really going to run round calling me that?"

'Well, duh. You're my boy. What else would I call you?"

"My name is Harry," Harry replied. "You can call me that."

His Familiar studied him for a moment, then giggled. "That's a silly thing to call my boy, My Boy. You're not even hairy at all."

"Well, you can't just call me 'My Boy,' Angel. It sounds silly," Harry complained.

Angel looked back at him for a long moment, a look of intense concentration on her face. She looked him up and down a few times, then seemed to come to a decision. Tilting her head slightly, she fixed him with her affectionate gaze, gave him a sweet smile and said, "Master?" in a questioning tone.

A large portion of the Gryffindor students were suddenly struck with some sort of strange fit. Silverware clattered to the table, plates hit the floor, and half-eaten meals landed in laps. Coughing and choking could be heard all up and down the tables. A few student keeled over so hard they ended up on the ground.

The fit, oddly enough, seemed to strike the male Gryffindors for the most part, though a fair number of witches were likewise affected.

Harry, for reasons a couldn't quite fathom, found himself turning a brilliant shade of red. Something about the way she had said the word made it sound very much like something that shouldn't be uttered in public.

"My Boy is fine. You can call me that," he squeaked.

Smiling again, Angel said, "Thought so." It may have just been Harry's imagination, but there definitely seemed to be a smug tone to her voice.

"What did you say?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing, My Boy. I'm just a silly kitty. I didn't say anything at all."

"That's... quite the familiar you have there, Harry." Fred declared. He was trying very hard to climb back onto his feet without trailing his robes through the assorted food now littering the floor. "Very... unique."

"Yeah, don't think we've ever seen one quite like her." George agreed. He hadn't fallen off the bench, but had managed to send his entire plate flying into his face. "I'd say she's definitely got a lot of potential."

"Mounds of potential."

"She's clearly incredibly talented. It's practically busting out at the seams."

"Really, I wish we had your summoning talent. You summoned a fox. We summoned foxes."

Two black projectiles shot across the table to slam into Fred's chest. The poor boy had just managed to climb back up onto the bench. Now the force of the impact knocked him straight back off of it. The three became a whirling ball of wizard, fox and pain.

Aside from a few startled first-years, no one really seemed to notice. It was starting to look like Hogwarts was just that sort of place.

Harry was surprisingly okay with that.

"Hey! Stop! They just fixed that! No! No! I like my eyes in my skull-holes!"

"Oi! Girls! Get off his face, okay? Our disappointment is next!"

"You have a disappointment?" Angel asked. She was too busy glaring at her fingers to look at George. The black pudding juice had congealed to her hand, leaving a residue that somehow managed to be both slimy and sticky. She had quickly discovered it couldn't simply be shaken off, so had settled for using a nail to scrape it away and wipe it on the edge of the table. The stone surface now sported several very obvious gouges.

Harry watched curiously as she tried to clean her nail again. As he had half suspected, it shaved off another sliver of stone.

"I have repeatedly told you that it is entirely inappropriate to refer to your brother in such a fashion." King gazed down on the group from the next tier up.

Hermione, sitting next to him, was watching in fascination as he worked a mangled spoon between his fingers. From the way he was acting, you'd think it was nothing more than a lump of clay. He was even using it as such, carefully twisting and forming it even as Lady persistently continued to feed him. It would no doubt soon be added to the growing collection of small sculptures in front of him.

The silver shapes were surprisingly detailed considering he had shaped them with nothing but his slender fingers. Apparently he was a bit of an artist, and expressing that seemed to be his way of dealing with the annoyance of being fed.

Oh well. At least the destroyed silverware was serving a purpose.

Lady, on the other hand, was clearly on cloud nine as she steadily speared food on a finger and pushed it into his mouth. At some point she had managed to slip into his lap once again , and now had an absolutely thrilled look on her face as she fed him. The fact that Hermione could see the Familiar's expression despite the elemental facing away from her was hurting her brain a bit. Seeing someone's face through their head was just a little bit disorienting.

Harry, for his part, was really hoping Angel didn't turn around at this point. Judging by her behavior so far, he was pretty sure he didn't want her getting any ideas. It was a very accurate assumption, but had come a little bit too late. His Familiar was quietly trying to come up with the best way to subtly disable her Master's hands.

"He's our brother, King." George sighed. "Trust us, he's a total failure. You'll finally get to see for yourself."

"Argblargle! Whut the thuck!? Not mah thoungh!" added Fred. He was frantically smacking at the foxes clinging to his face. "Thut it ouh, hew bithes!"

There was a long-suffering sigh as King shook his head. "It consistently amazes me how you are so completely unable to take anything seriously. Lady, my dear? If you would?"

The elemental paused, a finger-spear of food raised halfway to her Master's mouth. There was a very definite look of indecision on her face. Doing what her wizard had asked would require her to stop feeding him, which was just plain unacceptable. On the other hand, he could get quite stubborn when he was annoyed with her. There was a pretty good chance he'd stop letting her feed him anyway.

Oh well. There was always dinner.

Lady deformed and flowed around her wizard's body once, taking the opportunity to grab his ass in a very inappropriate way. It always amused her, especially since it was pretty much impossible to stop someone from doing so when literally any part of their body could give you a squeeze. It was one of the few times it was worth irritating him, mainly because it always elicited an absolutely adorable look of exasperation.

Even as the frown was forming on King's lips, Lady was forming atop the table. The watery mass became a watery girl almost too fast to follow. She straightened into a standing position and, with an exaggerated flourish, reached into her own chest and withdrew a baseball-sized mass of water.

The melee on the floor instantly froze. Three participants, human and fox alike, stared up at the elemental in horror as she wound up.

"You wouldn't…"

Fred was wrong and he knew it. She definitely, definitely would. The statement was more reflexive than anything, and he realized it was a mistake even as he said it. Eyes widening, he desperately tried to close his mouth in time.

He failed.

The liquid projectile slammed down on him with a considerable amount of force, drilling him right in the center of the face.

"Oh God! Right in my mouth," Fred gagged, his words once again clear. The foxes had been blown straight off his face, leaving his mouth unobstructed. "I swallowed some and everything! Why does it taste so… weird!? Like old sockwater or something!"

Lady twitched very, very visibly. An annoyed shudder ran through her entire body, sending small but violent ripples across her surface. It was quite easy to see the pissed-off look on her mostly featureless face. Withdrawing another orb of water, she stretched her arm back. In the elemental's case this meant actually stretching, her arm becoming thinner and extending nearly twice its normal length.

Another watery projectile wailed Fred in the face, far harder than the first one. It was quickly followed by another and another, then a few more after that. Lady shrank visibly as the deluge went on, but somehow managed to hurl each water-ball harder than the last.

"Gah! Dammit! Fine then! Have at you, you moist menace!" Fred roared. He whipped out his wand, thrust it forward and gave it a sharp twist. "Eitha!"

Something slammed into Lady, hitting hard enough to visibly dent her chest. The elemental went flying backward like she'd been fired out of a cannon. Her position relative to Fred resulted in her slamming straight into her Master with devastating force. The impact had no visible impact on King, but was hard enough to send pieces of Lady flying in every direction.

"Oh. Wonderful," Hermione grumbled. She raised her arm and considered her sodden sleeve for a moment, then gave it a violent snap. The wet cloth released an impressive arc of water which resulted in some angry shouts from further down the table.

The protests suddenly stopped when she turned her annoyed glare towards the source of the complaints.

That's weird… Hermione thought, but decided it wasn't worth worrying about. It was pretty obvious wizards were a strange lot, so who knew what was going through their heads. Turning her eyes down toward Fred, she began, "And you-"

Don't kill me!" the redhead squeaked, staring up at her with a frightened look on his face. "You can have my robes!"

Hermione looked at him for a moment in confusion. "Huh?"

"You can mug me! You don't even need a snake to do it!"

Another moment passed, Hermione's confused expression only intensifying.

There was a sharp click.

Deciding to shake off Fred's momentary weirdness, Hermione turned to the sound. As soon as she did she regretted it. She had no idea what she should think about the snake on Harry's shoulder, or the open switchblade clutched in its jaws, but she was pretty sure Fred's behavior didn't even come close to that level of weirdness

"Huh," she repeated. This time it was less of a question, and more like the sound it makes when the gears in someone's brain grind to a stop.

Hey, it's cool, the Adder hissed. I'm always happy to help. Got my stabbin' knife ready and everything.

Harry sighed. "Adder, no mugging our friends. Go find someone else to shake down, okay?"

Fine, fine. But since you ruined my fun, you're only getting a 10% cut.

The snake slithered off Harry's shoulder and down his body. A moment later he was off, slithering through a sea of ankles in search of a victim. The scraping noise he knife made as the tip dragged across the stone floor was audible long after he had vanished.

"...did you just send your snake off to mug someone?" Hermione asked slowly. She was trying desperately not to think about it too hard, as her mind was just now getting back up to speed. As her inner workings kicked back in gear, her brain decided to invoke one of mankind's most powerful defense mechanisms: unconditional acceptance coupled with absolute denial.

Obviously it was perfectly normal for snakes to mug people. Obviously it was some sort of magical-wizard-mugging-wizard-snake. Why wouldn't it mug people? That's what magical-wizard-mugging-wizard-snakes did. Otherwise the name would be quite silly indeed.

She wasn't sure why a snake would need a knife to mug someone, though. That part seemed quite silly, and didn't make a whole lot of sense.

"Do you get a cut?" she asked curiously.

Harry shrugged. "Usually I get 15%, but he's kind of annoyed today. I'll probably only get 10%, but at least most of the people here are actually carrying money. Have you ever drank 15% of a classmate's milk carton? It's really silly, since he doesn't even drink milk, but I guess it's the principle of the matter.

"Do a lot of wizard kids carry money? I mean, how would you even know that?"

Scratching his head, Harry replied, "I dunno. They just look like the types that carry money around, I guess?"

"The kid's right," George said agreeably. "A lot of those pureblood ponces like to carry a little coin. Kind of dumb if you ask me. The only time we even have a chance to buy stuff is on Hogsmeade weekends."

Suddenly Harry gasped, a look of horror on his face. "Oh no! The Adder can't mug people! He just can't!"

"Well, it is a pretty morally questionable thing to do…" Hermione agreed.

"No, I mean he can't. Literally. Everyone carries metal coins here. How is he supposed to bring those back?"

Hermione frowned as she mulled that over.

"Oh dear, you're right. It seems a bit silly, doesn't it? I mean, you'd think a magical mug-snake would have developed some sort of capacity to transport coins. Are magic creatures exempt from the evolutionary process or something?" Hermione wondered aloud. "Maybe we should get him some sort of reptile backpack…"

George stared at her in disbelief. "Are you seriously saying you want to help that snake mug people?"

"Well, not exactly. I just think it's quite embarrassing for a magical mug-snake to have difficulty carrying coins. I mean, no one likes looking silly over things like that. Wouldn't you want someone to help you if you were in that situation?"

"I don't generally mug people, Hermione…"

"Why not? It's awesome!" Fred said as he slipped back into his seat. Two wet foxes were dropped onto the table with a wet splat. "All the cool snakes are doing it!"

"Fred, if all the cool snakes were jumping off a bridge, would you follow them?" George sighed.

"What? Hell no. What'd'ya think I am, stupid? Who the heck would jump into a river full of magical mug-snakes, George? There'd be way too many cutty knives and stabby teeth down there!"

"And poison," Harry added. "Don't forget the poison."

"You're not helping," George sighed. "Forget the mug-snakes for a minute, okay? I wanna see how bad Ronny-boy messes this up. I'm guessing a 7 out of 10 on the suck scale."

"I'm going with a 6.5 suck factor! I saw him eating his Wheaties this morning!" Fred declared.

"Nine."

The other students turned to look at Harry in surprise. In response, the boy shrugged.

"What? He was going on and on about some Chudley Crayons last night. I don't even know what that is, but apparently they've never won more than three games in a season. Even I know that's not good," Harry reasoned. "If you look up to a bunch of people like that…"

Fred threw an arm around Harry's shoulders and pulled him in close.

"Harry… have I told you lately how much I love you?" he asked. "Because I do, Harry. I love you the most."

Harry paled and tried to scoot a little further away from his red-headed friend. It didn't work so well, though, because Fred held him fast.

"What's wrong, Harry? Don't you love me too? You're my-"

Fred paused as a set of slim fingers wrapped around his shoulder, just at the base of his neck. From right next to his head there was a low, barely audible growl. It was the sort of sound you'd expect a dangerous animal to make. Turning his head slowly, he managed to catch sight of a pair of very unamused slitted eyes looking down at him.

"Mine," Angel said simply.

Shuddering, Fred slowly nodded. He didn't even try to resist as she roughly shoved him to the side and plopped down between him and Harry.

"Ooh, look. Here we go!" George said excitedly. Seated on the other side of their young friend, he had either missed the byplay, or simply chosen to ignore it. "He's all set, and it only took him twice as long as it should have. I'm almost proud of him, but I'm pretty sure that feeling's about to die a horrible death. This oughta be good."

In the circle, the youngest Weasley son stood confidently. Like all the others, he knew how important this was. He knew that this would be a defining moment in his life. And he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he would summon something incredible.

In the back of his mind, he was glad the Summoning was so easy. He hadn't really needed to study or anything.

Anticipation built within him as he recited the spell. This was his chance to show the world he was as good as any of his brothers.

No, this was his chance to prove he was better than them!

Ron recited the spell solemnly, managing to only stumble slightly as he went through the simple rhyme.

As he finished the last words, an extremely vulgar sound erupted across the chamber. If I had to describe it, I'd say it was like someone trying to play an out-of-tune trombone full of half-solidified gelatin. It brought to mind the the longest, wettest and most horrible fart the world had ever had the misfortune of witnessing. Thick streamers of baby-shit green smoke exploded outward, so greasy they actually left brown smears on the floor where they touched. The smell that rolled off them was so strong it was nearly visible, and those unfortunate enough to take a plume of the stuff to the face immediately threw up in their mouths.

Something fell out of the center of the noxious explosion and hit the floor with a vile splat. Despite the brevity and simplicity of the sound, it somehow managed to be worse than what he preceded it. Ron eagerly darted forward and attempted to snatch it off the floor. I say 'attempted' because he only managed to pull it up half a meter before it snapped back down with another splat. Frowning, he grabbed it again and this time managed to literally peel it off the stone.

"That has got to be-"

"-the most disgusting thing-"

"-I've ever seen," the twins finished together.

Hermione sat frozen in her seat, a look of abject disgust locked on her face. "My God, what the hell is that!?"

Shaking his head slowly, King replied, "I do not know. My friends, please forgive me for doubting you. It seems my assumptions were incorrect."

"Guys? I think my Familiar is wilting. Should she be doing that?"

Harry tried to answer, but ended up gasping instead as Angel scrambled into his lap in a panic. He found himself to be very glad she came with a fair amount of padding, at least. The experience would have been quite a bit worse if she had been built like Petunia.

"Ugly mousie… Really, really, ugly mousie…" she whimpered.

"That thing is-"

"-about what we expected, King," George finished.

Fred shook his head and disagreed, "Uh-uh. I was banking on some sort of magic venereal disease. Cantrip Chlamydia or something. I'm pretty sure whatever that is is worse…"

The youngest Weasley son was holding aloft something that could generously be called a rat. Its fur was a bit overlong and definitely on the mangey side. It was also spotted with patches of green, obviously the result of some mold or fungus that had taken up residence. The whole creature looked a bit damp and slimy, as if Lady had given it an enthusiastic hug and then dunked it in a bucket of lard.

"Bill's got that... thing. Don't know what she is, but she's scary as hell. Looks like she's trying to decide how your soul would taste every time she looks at you."

"Charlie's got a salamander. The li'l bugger could torch a small town and still look cute doing it."

"We've got the girls, and even Perfect Percy has that weird metal owl."

"Not sure what it's supposed to be, but at least it's shiny."

"And then there's our beloved younger brother, proud summoner of a... something. Not really sure what that thing actually is supposed to be, honestly."

"Ron wants everything for nothing, King."

"Probably went into it thinking how nice it was to have something handed to him."

"Didn't wanna put in any effort, and that's what happens. Garbage in, garbage out."

Angel studied the rat(?) and made a disgusted, half-sickened face. "That doesn't look tasty at all," she whined.

"Don't try to eat it. You'll probably get sick.," Harry quickly said. "Wait, just don't eat stuff like that at all. Even if it does look… tasty."

"What?" Angel looked at him curiously. "Why?"

"Why? Are you kidding? Because people don't eat rats!"

She stared at him for several seconds, then her eyes widened in understanding. "Ooh… I see. You're all confused and stuff. I'm not people, silly!"

The small collection of students looked her up and down. Fred and George did it perhaps a few times more than necessary.

It was Neville who broke the silence. "You're not?"

"No, of course not!" She scrambled out of Harry's lap (much to his relief) and adopted a low crouch on the bench. "I'm a cat!"

There was more staring.

"I am! Look! See my pretty red fur?" She rocked backwards and proudly held her right arm aloft.

The stares continued. Angel hesitated, then followed their gazes. Her mouth dropped open in horror as she took in the limb which, needless to say, was not covered in fur.

She screamed. "Ahh! My fur! My beautiful fur! It's all gone. It's-"

"Calm down!" Harry shouted over her. He had the sneaking suspicion he'd be shouting that a lot in the future.

"Okay." Angel immediately stopped screaming. In stark contrast to her panic just a moment ago, she calmly plopped onto her rear and crossed her legs. "I figured out what's wrong, anyway. I'm people. People don't have fur."

"That's what we-"

There was a faint whoosh of inrushing air as the bouncy redhead vanished. Harry gaped. In her place on the bench was a red kitten, sitting proudly and looking at him. There was a black ribbon wound several times around her neck with a small, silver bell hanging from it.

"Angel?"

The kitten gave a happy "Miyah!" and hopped into his lap. It was quite a bit more comfortable than the first time she'd done so.

"Well, would you look at that," George said, raising an eyebrow. "You've got yourself a rare Familiar there, Harry."

"Right you are. I don't think I've ever actually seen a human animagus before. That's a neat trick." Fred added. "What a nice little kitty. Would've been more fun to pet her the other way, though.

A small foot slammed into the back of his head with a thud. In the next row up, Hermione hauled herself back up into her seat and glared down at him. "Do you have to be a pervert?"

"Human… animagus?"

King cleared his throat. "An animagus is a witch or wizard that possesses the ability to become an animal. Occasionally, however, a magical creature will develop a similar ability. Animagi are named after the creatures they become, making your Familiar a human animagus. Were she a witch that became a cat, she would be a-"

"-pussy animagus!" Fred finished proudly. For his trouble, he received another kick to the head. "Careful, I might start to like-"

The next assault couldn't even be called a kick. Hermione grabbed the edge of the table , using the leverage it provided to swing beneath and drive both feet full into the back of his skull. Fred was sent pitching forward to slam his face into the stone table. There was a solid thinking noise, after which he didn't sit back up. Instead, he simply lay insensate in his plate full of gravy and potatoes.

"Oops," Hermione said, as if such an accident happened every day.

"So… she's really a cat?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Looks like. One of the magical breeds, obviously. I couldn't tell you which one, though. Dunno if I've ever seen one like her before.

Harry looked down at the small feline sitting contentedly in his lap.

Much like George had said, she didn't look like any sort of cat he'd seen before. She was small for one thing, about the size of a newborn kitten despite clearly being full grown. She was also soft and fluffy, as if her fur had just recently come in. Wide, expressive eyes and whiskers that twitched every time she moved her head made her face absolutely adorable.

Like the way her human form was beautiful beyond belief, her cat form practically oozed cuteness to a degree that shouldn't be legal.

Harry thought about this for a moment, then reached down and gave her an experimental rub. She responded by pushing roughly against his hand. He'd always wanted a cat, but for very obvious reasons had never asked. His Familiar turning out to be one seemed like a lot more good fortune than he was used to.

He very deliberately didn't think about the fact that the creature he was petting had just recently been a very human redhead.

Hey, it could be worse, right?

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Author's Note

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It probably goes without saying that Familiars like Orchid and Angel are where most Bloodgifts come from. Granted, it would be more accurate to say they're half where they come from, but they're the important half. Supernatural beauty can be a bit hard to deal with for a lonely witch or wizard.

In other words, Harry probably shouldn't worry too much about how awkward petting the redhead is. In three or four years he'll probably more than happy to do it.

Nah, I don't think things are going in that direction. At the moment I have even really considered any sort of pairings. I figure I've got a couple of years before I'll even look at something like that. Given the rate I'm writing at, I could very well die of old age before that becomes an issue.

Next chapter we learn a little more about some of the Familiars, including some new ones! Yay!