Something Familiar (Mk.2)
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Something Familiar (Mk.2)
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Chapter Nine
"TASTE THE RAINBOW! BBLLAARRGG!"
AKA
"Selective Comprehension"
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Why? Because the kid's sad. He's been sad all morning, the Adder hissed. You don't want him to be sad, do you?
Angel thought for a moment, then replied, No sad.
Rolling his eyes, the Adder let out a low hiss of exasperation. He really, really wished other animals would figure out how to talk like intelligent creatures. The language they used - a mixture of sounds, scents and movements - worked to a point, but it wasn't nearly as advanced as the Alliance of Serpent's Speach (AKA ASS). It got the general idea across, but wasn't precise and wasn't capable of relaying complex ideas.
The only other creatures that had a similarly complex language were ravens and crows, but who the hell wanted to talk to birds?
Fighting down his annoyance at the ignorance of other animals' ignorance, the Adder continued, See? You need to cheer him up, then. That's part of your job. So, as a leading expert on the behavior and habits of the inferior beings cluttering up the planet, I'm telling you that's the best way to do it.
Angel continued to look at the snake uncertainty.
Look, people like hugs, right?
The cat nodded in agreement.
And people really like kitties, right?
The question was met with an even more enthusiastic nod.
And everyone knows qualitative measurements of happy things increase exponentially based on the individual elements involved, right?
This question was met with a blank, very confused stare.
The Adder sighed, Hugs from kitties are better than normal hugs. A lot better.
This time Angel nodded, though she still looked a bit confused.
So you just need to give him a nice, big hug. And the best place to hug a person is the back of their head. Make sure you hit- uh, hug as hard as you can, too. That'll make it even better.
Clearly uncertain again, Angel asked, You sure?
Of course I'm sure, Fuzzface. I'm the expert, remember? Everyone likes their pussy fast, hard and in their face. Well, unless it's… big enough to swallow them whole. Then they're plunged into a h-hell of darkness and sticky fluids, b- barely given time to breath before the next… next… Oh, great and powerful fork-tongued god, it's all coming back to me! Why!?
...you okay?
Do I look like I'm fucking okay!? Just rail the kid in the back of his traitor skull already!
Angel took off like a shot, leaving a cluster of shallow gashes in the floor. The acceleration was so powerful and abrupt that the Adder - even locked in the midst of his lamia-induced trauma - stared after her in shock. The tiny cat launched down the hall, somehow gaining even more speed as she went.
Huh. I probably should have thought this through. Oh well, it's not like a little cat can cause permanent damage, right?
Just as she passed through the doorway leading into the Great Hall, Angel hurled herself upward. There was an excited cry of, "Miyah!" as she twisted in midair, whirling around in a way only a cat could.
Harry was one of the first to arrive at breakfast. He supposed that was what happened when you got up at four in the morning. Most of his fellow Gryffindors were just starting to stir as he was leaving the tower. When he arrived in the Great Hall, there were only a few other students there. Most were over at the Ravenclaw table, munching away at their food and staring at a book.
There was a small menagerie of animals (and other things) hanging around. Most were either sitting near their wizards or half-asleep in one of the plush animal beds that littered the area beneath the tables. So far he'd counted 3 cats, 4 dogs, 2 birds of some sort, what appeared to be a spider monkey and a horse. The horse had pulled one of the beds out from under a table and was comically trying to lay in a piece of furniture intended for a much smaller creature.
There had also been several 'somethings'. Harry had no idea what any of those had been. A few resembled mundane creatures to a degree, but even those were odd enough that they were clearly magical.
As a large platter of food appeared before Harry, his eyes widened in amazement. Most would assume it was due to the magical manner by which the food had arrived. That, however, wasn't the case. What had truly shocked Harry was the realization that he was about to eat a breakfast that he hadn't cooked. In the face of that revelation, magically appearing bacon seemed trivial.
The poor little bastard was so fascinated by his bacon that he never saw it coming.
Harry barely had time to let out a surprised cry as a set of tiny paws slammed into the back of his skull. The blow was powerful enough to send him pitching forward, cutting off his shout as he was slammed face-first into his stack of pancakes. The breakfast pastries, thankfully, cushioned the blow somewhat. Chunks of pancake and blobs of syrup were sent flying in every direction, but Harry wasn't heavily concussed.
Goddamn. Remind me not to piss her off… the Adder hissed. Wonderful. Now I've got two pussies to be afraid of…
Hermione, sitting across from Harry, lowered the plate she'd reflexively protected herself with. Glaring at the pile of food that she'd dumped onto the table in her haste, she gave her makeshift shield a violent snap. It sent a spray of eggs and homefries across the table, catching Fred straight in the face. Neither party involved bothered to acknowledge the minor assault had happened.
"Well, he's certainly awake now, isn't he?" the witch remarked. "Are wizards magnets for head trauma or something?"
Harry reached up and peeled his Familiar off his head. He then, with considerably more difficulty, peeled his face off his plate. Holding Angel in front of his face, he glared at her and said, "That wasn't very nice."
"Miyah?" Angel asked, cocking her head and giving him a puzzled look. In Beastialiitongue, it translated roughly to, I'm helping.
The sound she made was very odd. It was similar to, but not quite a cat's meow. It was another small oddity that sort of drove home how different she was.
"Why did you do that?" Harry demanded.
Angel stared at him for a moment, then turned to look at the Adder. The snake's posture quite made it clear how amused he was, drawing a suspicious, narrow-eyed stare from the cutten. It was rapidly becoming obvious what had just happened there.
She'd remember that...
Turning back to Harry, she said, "Miyah?" innocently.
Glaring at her through narrowed eyes, Harry considered his options. It only took him a moment to decide what he should do. Moving slowly and deliberately, he raised his Familiar to his face.
"Mi-ya~ack!"
Angel's curious meow was immediately aborted in favor of a shocked and disgusted shriek of horror as Harry pressed her against his face and used her like a washcloth. It took several firm swipes to get most of the food off. At the end of it he wasn't exactly clean, but he sure felt a lot better.
His Familiar finally managed to struggle out of his grip and bounced onto the table. She turned and glared at him for a moment, then anthromorphisized. Plates and silverware went flying in every direction, accompanied by another thick spray of food as she exploded into human form..
"My Boy! You're so mean! I was just giving you kitty hugs. Mr. Pretty Snakey said you like them."
You can't prove a thing. I'm as innocent as a snake with an apple, the Adder proclaimed as he slithered up one of the table's legs. Speaking of apples, I'm noticing a distinct lack of small rodents on these platters. Way to discriminate, you racist assholes.
Angel paused, frowning, then ran a finger across the underside of her breast. She held her hand up to examine the sticky syrup for a moment, then popped her finger into her mouth.
"Mmm~ I'm delicious."
Harry and his five friends sat there staring, frozen in shock, just as they'd been since she changed. In fact, nearly the entire hall was staring, though for varying reasons. McGonagall in particular had clearly taken in interest in the event. Judging by the slight twitch in her eyebrow she wasn't amused.
Angel was laying mostly prone across the table, sprawled atop the few dishes and plates she hadn't knocked off during her change. She was absolutely covered in syrup and bits of pancake. Aside from that, she was completely nude. At the moment the debris was sort of preserving her modesty (but not really), but even that was vanishing as she eagerly scraped the sweet substances off her own body.
Hermione made a panicked noise and lunged forward to grab Angel's wrist before her hand quite made it to her hips.
"Don't! Look, there's plenty more. Why don't you be a good kitty and come down? I'll make you a plate, okay?"
Hermione's comment earned her an adoring look.
"Ooh~, I like you. You're nice."
"I'm not sure how I feel about that. I suppose this is why they say you shouldn't feed strays," Hermione sighed. "Come on, I'll help you down. You can have some of my bacon."
Angel took her hand and slid off the table, looking at her uncertainty. "What's bacon? Is it a good things?" she asked curiously.
"This is a bacon," Hermione replied, holding up a bacon. "It is a good things."
"Ooh~, it smells good."
"Where are your clothes? I'll let you have it if you put them on," Hermione offered.
Angel opened her mouth, paused, then closed it again. A moment later she sheepishly said, "I lost them."
"Yeah, she wasn't wearing them last night, actually," Harry added. "Where are they?"
Angel, still staring at the strip of bacon, shrugged. "I dunno, My Boy. If I did, they wouldn't be lost," she reasoned, drawing an amused chuckle from both George and King.
"This… could be a minor problem…" Harry decided.
McGonagall seemed a lot less annoyed now that they were obviously trying to do something about the issue. She was still watching them carefully, however, and it was hard to tell how long her patience would last. Though he hadn't interacted with her a whole lot, Harry was absolutely certain that would be a bad thing.
"A minor problem?" Fred asked weakly. "No… I'm pretty sure it's causing a… uh.. pretty major problem."
Neville nodded and agreed, "Yeah. Professor McGonagall looks really unhappy."
"No, Nev, I was trying to say I just popped a massive bo-" Fred's remark ended in a yelp of pain as a pair of foxes slammed into his face, driving his straight off his seat. "Ack! The hell did you even come from!? I- No! No biting that! Sausage is bad for foxes!"
Harry hadn't expected Fred to be much help, but still...
Sighing, he turned away from the fierce melee now going on around his feet and turned to a more reliable source of advise. "Hermione, what should we do about-"
Harry stopped in mid-sentence.
"Aw, you almost got it that time," Hermione said, dangling the bacon in front of Angel's face by one corner. The Familiar's eyes were fixed firmly on it, like it was the only thing in the world. "You should try again. Maybe you'll get it."
"You keep moving it!" Angel complained, not looking away from the breakfast meat. "You shouldn't do that!"
Hermione let out an exaggerated gasp of horror. "Me? Moving it? Why would I do that?" she asked. "Are you sure you didn't just miss it?"
Angel's eyes momentarially flicked away from the bacon to give Hermione a confused look. "I missed it?"
"Well, I didn't move it, but you didn't get it. Obviously that means you must have missed it."
Angel frowned, then leaned forward suddenly and snapped at the bacon. At the last second Hermione moved it, shifting it to one side. Angel's teeth slammed shut on thin air. Then, before the Familiar recovered from the lung, she moved it exactly back where it had been.
"Oh, you missed it again!" Hermione said sadly. "You should be more careful."
Okay, so much for help from that corner.
"Hermione? Don't you have your own Familiar to torture?" Harry asked with a sigh.
Hermione shrugged, the gesture moving the bacon again just in time for Angel to "miss" it. Smiling, she said, "The last I saw him, the lazy thing was asleep on my bed. Besides, yours is much more fun to tor- uh, play with."
Fighting the urge to groan, Harry twisted to look down the other side of the table. King, surely, would be a much better source of advise.
The teenage titan was hunched forward over the table, staring down intently. Everyone now and then he'd open his mouth, allowing a thrilled Lady to feed him. For the most part, however, his attention seemed entirely focused on the object in his hands. It was a ball of silver that had, before it met him, been several forks. Now he was kneading it and twisting it, working it between his fingers like a ball of putty.
"Uh, King…?"
"I am afraid I am a bit occupied at the moment, Harry," King said absently. "Inspiration waits for no man. Perhaps you should locate the nearest vulpine for a recommendation?"
"...you're still mad about that…?" Harry muttered. Fine. His with his two most reliable sources of information down and his foxy advisors busy maiming their master, that left only Neville and George. So, deciding experience would be helpful, he turned to the redhead. "Ge-"
Harry stopped cold.
George was staring at him. No, he wasn't just staring at him, he was staring at him.
The Weasley's pupils had dilated to the point that his irises were barely visible. They were fixed firmly on Harry, but shuddering slightly. It was like something inside his skull was vibrating rapidly, shaking the orbs and nothing else. His head was tilted to the side and the higher corner of his mouth was turned up in a smile. The other half of his mouth was a simple, emotionless line.
It was one of the creepiest things Harry had ever seen in his entire life.
Eyes drifting down to the redhead's plate, Harry observed bits yellow and white on it. The damning evidence was there: the remains of a serving of scrambled eggs.
"Oh vasco," Harry sighed. "You know what? Nevermind. I'll figure it out."
"rend her soul"
"No, George, I think I got it. Just go… do… something that doesn't involve talking to, looking at or thinking about you."
"tear her soul into quivering shreds - rejoice in the pained screams of her immortal spirit - devour the darkness left in its wake - revel in the void - only in death may you be immortal - eternal joy to the herald of oblivion" George whispered.
"Okay George. I can't do it now, but it's going on my to-do list. I promise," Harry muttered, scooting his chair back a little. Down to one option, he turned to Neville. "Hey, Neville. Do you have any… uh… you okay?"
Neville was pale and shaking, staring back at George with wide eyes. "H- Harry? George is… he's…"
"Yeah, he does that. We're pretty sure it's some kind of egg allergy."
"I- I'm pretty sure that's not how allergies work."
Harry nodded. "Yeah, I know. But I'm pretending it is so I don't have to think about it too much. It's working out pretty well for me, so you might want to give it a try."
Neville looked back and forth between Harry and George for a moment, then his frightened look was swept away by one of realization. "Oh~, an egg allergy! Why didn't you say so? It makes perfect sense."
"Doesn't it?"
"It does! Sorry, what were we talking about before George's… uh…"
"His weird sneezes?" Harry supplied.
Neville nodded enthusiastically. "Of course it was a weird sneeze. It makes perfect sense!"
"Doesn't it?"
"It does! What were we talking about before George's weird sneeze?"
Harry wordlessly pointed to one side, where Hermione was still taunting Angel with the same piece of bacon and said, "Naked," then nodded toward McGonagall - who was once again visibly running out of patience - and added, "Pissed."
Nodding in realization, Neville pondered the problem. Unfortunately, the only thing he could come up with wasn't all that useful.
"It's too bad she's not like Orchid," he said, causing the vines under his robes to shift in curiosity.
"What do you mean?"
"She just makes flowers to cover herself with. I just thought it would be easy to fix if she had clothes like Orchid."
The vines pressed against his flesh quivered, then launched forward hard enough to send him sprawling from his chair. They streamed out of his robes and slammed into Angel so quickly that she barely had time to let out a gasp of surprise.
Three first-years watched curiously as Angel thrashed around on the floor, alternately letting out loud giggles and shocked yelps. Green strands of varying thickness and composition surged around and around her body, covered in tickling flower petals and poking leaves. Despite the outraged yells and frantic flailing, the cat was clearly being careful to keep her nails away from her fellow Familiar. This left her with no defense but ineffectual slapping, a fact that Orchid seemed more than happy to take advantage of.
"No! No! Bad Flower! Bad-bad-bad-bad-naughty Flower! No touches there! No touches! Ack! That's worse, dirty Flower! Bad! No poking!"
Harry scratched his head and said, "'Clothes like Orchid, huh? You might wanna think a little more about how you phrase things, Neville."
Wide eyes following the one-cat melee, Neville nodded slowly. "Yeah… you're probably right. Hey, uh, Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you feeling kind of funny? Like… uh… here?" Neville asked, grabbing his own crotch. "Because I'm feeling kind of… funny."
There was a loud bang as a plate hit the floor, then a clatter as it rolled to a stop. Turning, the boys witnessed Hermione looking back at them in pale-faced horror. In one hand she still had a fork with a chunk of sausage on it. The other was empty, but still held as if a plate had recently fallen from her shock-numbed fingers.
"I… I definitely shouldn't be the one to deal with this," she said nervously. "Let's go talk to the professor. Maybe it'll be enough to distract her from naked cats. Maybe it'll distract you from naked cats."
Neville frowned at her in confusion as he rubbed his crotch. "Uh, thanks Hermione, but that's alright. I figured it out, anyway. I've got wood."
Hermione's horrified look: now with 30% more horror!
The horror quotient skyrocketed as Neville shoved a hand straight down into his pants. With a look of intense concentration he began jerking his hand rapidly.
"Hang on. I think I got it. Almost there!"
"Neville!" Hermione shrieked. "What do you think you're doing right in the middle of-"
With a triumphant cry Neville yanked his hand out from under his waistband. Sighing in relief, held aloft a rather large stick.
"See? Told you I had wood," he said proudly. "Sucker was really lodged in there. Somehow my boxers got all wrapped around it."
Hermione's only response was the faint tic her left eye suddenly acquired. It actually matched the one McGonagall was once again developing quite well, to the extent that it was twitching to the exact same beat.
"Okay, so apparently Orchid gives Neville wood when she gets excited," Harry observed.
Slowly climbing back into his chair, Fred chimed in, "Seems reasonable. God knows she gives me wood."
The comment caused the foxes held in each hand to struggle harder, snapping at the limb that held them suspended over the table. The twin had them by the scruff of the neck, though, and was holding them in a way that was clearly designed to prevent such retaliation.
"You know, I've been wondering," Hermione muttered, very pointedly turning from the young wizards. Facing Fred, she pointed at the shallow cuts on his face and ears. Slight dribbles of blood were coming from several of the wounds. "How in the world do they do that to you?"
"pain inflicted on the willing brings no joy - only in the torment of pure souls does the darkness revel"
"Okay, so, what my brother was trying to say is that Familiars can't hurt their people because it's sort of a default order. Just like any order, it can be cancelled," Fred explained. "Either that, or he wants to rip out our tongues and use them to lick our asses. Could go either way."
"taste the filth of suffering everlasting"
"Nevermind. Definitely the tongue thing."
Hermione stared at him in disbelief, then looked down at the foxes. Their struggles seemed to have burned off most of their energy, as they had weakened considerably.
"Wait, you told them they could hurt you!?"
Fred shrugged. "Technically we told the little buggers they could do whatever they want. I was kind of figuring they'd run around in cute dresses wearing fabulous hats. Turns out they're a lot more inclined to chew on people's faces."
"Ooh!, Brother A is a maso-cost!" Angel declared, drawing attention back to herself. "No scratching A, Flower. He might think you like him."
Angel was now clothed in something similar to the halter top and shorts she had before. The new clothing was made entirely of flowers, leaves and woven vines and - impressively - managed to look even more provocative than her previous outfit despite covering more. The top was made of viney bands, leaving narrow strips of flesh visible between each. Her bottom was very similar to the old one, aside from the fact that it terminated in something very much like fishnet stockings made of creepers. A similar mesh of vines covered her midriff tight enough to be a second skin.
Part of the outfit twisted and bulged, throwing itself away from Angel. It rearranged itself in midair, becoming Orchid's human form (complete with "clothing") before it hit the floor. Straightening, the alura une turned and observed her work with obvious satisfaction.
As the alura une examined her, the vines making up her shorts tightened. The sudden ass-grab made Angel squeak in surprise.
Angel glared at her through narrowed eyes and hissed, "Naughty Flower…"
"Is it just me, or is that actually worse than being naked?" George asked.
Sighing in relief, Harry turned to his redheaded friend and said, "Jeeze, I'm glad you're finally back to-"
George was still sitting there, abnormally straight and still. His eyes were still dilated and vibrating. His head was still tilted, with the eerie half-smile. The only difference was that now, instead of staring at Harry, he was clearly ogling Angel.
"I mean, that is seriously hot," George continued. "hotter than the flames that will sear the flesh from your bones and the thoughts from your mind. Like, so hot I'm pretty sure it's not legal."
Neville stared at him in shock.
"Is… is her outfit actually breaking through the 'allergy?'"
"Ha! It is complete!" King suddenly barked.
The three first-years turned to observe King proudly holding up a small sculpture made of silver. Lady was also looking at it, with a clearly annoyed look on her face. The reason was immediately obvious.
It was a small sculpture of Angel reclining back like she had been on the table.
"A true work of art, though not quite capable of capturing the subject's beauty," he said proudly, turning. The instant his eyes hit Angel, he froze. Gaze still locked on her, he calmly placed the sculpture on the table. Then, with an annoyed cry of, "Damn it!" he brought his fist down on it hard enough to shake the floor.
Muttering under his breath, he immediately started working the flattened silver.
"Okay, so I was kind of considering him the sane one. Turns out we don't actually have one of those," Hermione muttered. Turning back toward the others, she was just in time to watch Orchid re-merge with Angel's outfit. "In fact, I'm pretty sure we go the other direction pretty fast and hard."
Fred edged closer to Angel (and further from his brother) to examine her outfit carefully. In particular, he studied the vines covering her rear.
"Fast and hard, huh? I can think of something I'd-"
A vine whipped out from Angel's flowered outfit, a single thorn at its tip. It screamed through the air faster than anyone there could react. The pointed end whipped across Fred's face, tearing a slight scratch across his cheek.
Fred dropped like a sack of bricks.
Mine, Orchid declared.
Hermione had just enough time to register a sweet scent before a series of images and feelings tore through her brain. The deluge made both her mind and her stomach lurch violently as she was assaulted by the hallucination. Unfortunately, her mind bounced back a lot quicker than her stomach.
Making a disgusting gagging noise, the young witch keeled over. She wobbled there unsteadily, one hand clasped against her mouth. A moment later she hit the floor on her hand and knees. Pressing her hand tighter against her lips proved fruitless, prompting her the yank it out of the line of fire.
She retched, then heaved. A stream of rainbow-colored liquid poured from her mouth.
The two muggle-born students examined the puddle.
"Uh, Hermione? Did you have some of the pancakes?" Harry asked nervously. "Because I was thinking they looked a little off. You might want to avoid them, just in case you develop an allergy…"
Hermione wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, then stared down at the red and blue smear left there. The twitch she had developed a while ago seemed to be getting worse.
"Why the hell did I just puke up a rainbow!?"
Neville rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and replied, "That's how Orchid talks. I'm sorry, I didn't know it could make people sick."
"...let me rephrase that. Why the hell did I puke up a rainbow!?"
"Oh, that's because of Headmaster Waggleton. There was a magical flu that went around in the late 1800s. From what Gran's mum told her, I guess it was really bad. The headmaster was pretty squeamish, so he put a powerful enchantment on the school. Now, whenever someone throws up the enchantment puts a glamor over it and makes it look like that." Neville explained.
Hermione examined the brilliant puddle. Though it seemed like a waste of magic, it was probably better than the alternative. It certainly wasn't putting her off like it would otherwise, nor was it making her feel like she might bark at the grass again. It even smelled nice and fresh, like a breezy summer day just after a rainshower.
"Oh, look! I found a sailboat!" Harry declared excitedly, pointing at the pool.
"Harry, don't try to find stuff in my- Oh, it is a sailboat. And the red blob next to it looks like a penguin," Hermione decided.
"Definitely a penguin," Harry agreed.
"Flower says she's sorry!" Angel called out. She had retreated several steps away, and was shouting theatrically. "Most people don't have the mental flexibility to hear her. It hurts their brain bad and their belly worse when she talks. That's why she usually just- Flower! I'm not saying that!"
Prude.
"I am not! You're just really, really dirty. And what's with the 'mine'ing? Why was it me in the naughty-naughty brain-pictures!?"
…?
"Oh, don't act like the innocent Flower," Angel huffed. "Anyway, Flower'll talk by giving me little pokes with the words. If she gives me a poke in naughty places, or tries to poke me with things that aren't words, I'm going to be very angry at her."
Something about the way his Familiar said that last part sent a chill down Harry's spine.
"Great. So I don't have to worry about turning my breakfast into a rainbow a second time. Wonderful," Hermione grumbled darkly. "Why was I the only one that rainbowed?"
"You weren't," came King's weak response.
There was a shell-shocked look on his face, the cause of which was immediately apparent. George still sat across from him, now with multicolored dribbles running down his chin and around his mouth.
King had also acquired some new color, though to a much greater extent than George. He was now covered from head to toe in technicolored fluid. Eerily, there was a multitude of darker shades in there, reds and blues that had a definite ominous feel to them. The wall behind the young wizard was a testament to how bad it had been. It was now painted in a variety of colors aside from a clean, King-shaped section.
Lady was quite conspicuously not in her master's lap. In fact, she was seated several chairs away, trying very hard to look like it was a perfectly natural place to be.
"King? You okay?" Harry asked hesitantly.
"Have you by chance ever seen The Exorcist?"
"Uh… yeah?"
"It was worse. So much worse," King whispered hoarsely. There was a haunted look on what little you could see of his face. "Even William Friedkin would quail in horror. I have seen the gates of hell, and they come in seven colors."
Harry tried to subtly edge away from the pool of colors slowly growing beneath King. "Just pretend it's a rainbow, King. A liquid rainbow. One that used to be eggs and lots of other food."
"You probably should have stopped after the first sentence, Harry," Hermione sighed.
King stood, moving slowly in a very considerate effort to avoid splashing rainbow juice everywhere. The attempt was almost comical, considering that it would have been pretty hard to make a bigger mess than was already spread around.
"If you will excuse me, I am going to go take a shower. I will most likely be setting myself on fire immediately afterward to try and purge the scent of evil from my flesh," he declared. That said, he turned and trudged out of the Great Hall.
His steps made a cartoonish squishing sound the whole way.
"You know, if it was anyone but him I'd assume they were kidding about the fire part," George stated. "I kinda wanna go see if he does it."
The three first-years slowly turned to look at him, their nervousness quite evident on their faces. Thankfully, he looked pretty normal.
"Man, what happened to him, anyway? I'm really hoping that was liquid rainbow and not liquid rainbow, because that'd be gross. And what the hell happened to Fred? Why's he on the floor, and where the hell did Kitten get the hot outfit?"
The "hot outfit" shifted and writhed, growing some very obvious thorns here and there.
"Yeah, you might not want to say stuff like that. I think the vomit spirit's feeling a bit possessive at the moment," Hermione suggested. "I don't know what's up with that, but I'm pretty sure she just killed your brother."
George studied his brother for several seconds, then shook his head. "Nah, he's fine. That's just his 'I was just exposed to a massive amount of toxic substances' slump. He'll come out of it eventually."
"I'm not even going to ask why you can recognize that, let alone so fast."
"It's a gift. Well, a gift and a lot of experience. But seriously, what the hell did I miss? I felt kinda funny, then I guess I must have zoned out for a bit there. Weird…"
"Wonderful. So, a set of living clothing worn by an insane redhead poisoned our other insane redhead in a fit of jealousy. Our third redhead is apparently possessed by evil eggs from hell and the guy who's supposed to be the stereotypical sane person in a crazy group is secretly some kind of perverted artist whackjob," Hermione grumbled. "Did I miss anything?"
"Our weirdly intelligent poison snake stole your spoon a while ago. I'm pretty sure he's over at the Ravenclaw tables trying to mug someone with it," Neville supplied.
A moment later a scream of, "Ow! He stabbed me with a spoon!" came, immediately followed by someone gasping, "Ohmygod! Cho!"
"Uh… he's over at the Ravenclaw tables successfully mugging someone with it," Neville corrected himself.
"Okay, so I'm pretty sure it's official: this day can not get any weirder," Hermione muttered.
As if rising to the challenge, a loud gong sounded through the hall. The older students reacted immediately, going into panic mode.
Hermione sighed, "Okay. What the fu-"
"Duck and cover!" George screamed.
George leapt over the table, arms extended outward. His lunge sent him flying between Harry and Neville, allowing him to catch both of them with a nasty clothesline across the chest. They hit the ground with a pair of pained gasps, then issued another set as they were summarily kicked beneath the table. Hermione's exclamation - which was certainly going to be, "What the fudge." - cut off as the redhead grabbed her ankle and bodily hauled her under the table. She didn't even have time to gasp in surprise before she was slammed into the boys, safely tucked beneath a layer of heavy wood.
Similar scenes were playing out all around the hall. Every student from the second year up was assuming some sort of defensive position. Many had simply taken cover under the furniture, just as George had, but others were employing more exotic means. There were a few here and there throwing what looked like muggle thermal blankets over themselves and their food, while others were actually quickly transfiguring makeshift shelters. Younger students were being hurled under tables or left staring at their older classmates with mystified expressions on their faces.
The reason for their caution became apparent just a moment later.
Hermione's eyes widened as a winged apocalypse descended on Hogwarts. Owls poured into the Great Hall, so many that they had to fight to get in the tiny windows. Their eyes were full of grim determination as they snapped and tore at each other in an attempt to be first, but also oddly blank.
The air was a whirling maelstrom of feathers, beaks and claws as the owls tried to get to their destinations. There was no sense of coordination or cooperation. It was every owl to itself, resulting in them thrashing around like it was an all-owl moshpit. Hermione was buffeted and smacked by ballistic avians as they barrelled toward their targets, steadfast in their duty. Not event he heavy wooden barrier could completely protect the hunkered first year took a few hits as larger owls shoved their smaller brethren aside.
"What the hell was that?" Hermione asked with wide eyes. She had been scratched, buffeted and pecked more than the other three combined. It was hard to say if it was just happenstance, bad luck, or the result of some bizzare owl-attracting quality. Whatever the reason, the result was one witch who looked like she'd been fed through al grinder.
The owl stuck in her hair definitely lent credence to the "bizarre owl-attracting quality" theory. It was a tiny white thing, just about the size of a grown man's closed fist. The poor beast had somehow gotten tangled in her busy locks and was trying like hell to get out. Its panicked thrashing didn't manage to free it from it's bonds.
In fact, the bird's efforts didn't even attract Hermione's' attention, which George chalked up to her current condition. The redhead briefly considered pointing the owl out, but immediately discarded the idea. Hermione found enough reasons to be pissed-off already. Why offer her another one?
George let out a rueful chuckle as he started to pick the feathers from his hair, then immediately dropped is hand to his side as he realize it might prompt Hermione to do the same.
"That was Saturday, otherwise known as Owlday around here. I'm thinking it's pretty obvious why," he declared as he began crawling out from under the table. "Teen Witch Weekly comes out today. Every witch and half the poncy wizards in the castle subscribe."
"Why the hell don't they just-"
"Angel! Stop!" Harry snapped, cutting Hermione off.
The reason for Harry's forceful bark was immediately apparent as the others wiggled their way back into their seats.
At some point during the feathery melee his Familiar had hopped onto the table and was now crouched atop it, frozen in place by that single word. Every muscle in her body had instantly locked up in response to her master's order. It left her standing stock still, a small owl lifted halfway to her face. The creature was staring in horror at the mouthful of viscous canines just inches away. It was a truly terrifying sight, made that much worse by the fact that her jaws were spread just a bit further than should be humanly possible.
"Ack," she grunted.
Having every muscle in your body stop moving against your will was a very odd experience.
"Why'd you make me do the stopping, My Boy? It's a birdie! I caught it! It's not even a friend like the little foxies are. I can tell!" Angel whined.
Harry slowly approached the table, set his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. "Owls are our friends too. I want you to let it go. Please don't make me make you."
Angel looked at him uncertainty, but her poised hand dropped slightly.
"But My Boy, birdie is food. Pretty snakey said so!" she protested. "They're okay to eat as long as you give 33 purr-cent away!"
Harry examined her carefully, then his gaze slid down her body. It wasn't the sort of gaze Fred would have slid down her body. No, it was a very suspicious, unamused gaze. Finally it reached the tabletop where, to his complete lack of surprise, the Adder was laying at Angel's feet. He wasn't sure exactly when the snake had reappeared, but it was hardly surprising he was turning out to be a bad influence.
I don't suppose you'd believe she's talking about the other snake. You know, the one that's not me? the Adder hissed. He looked up and down the table, carefully noting the complete lack of other snakes. Well, fuck. I'm boned.
"Adder. Did you tell her she could eat that owl?" Harry demanded.
The Adder let out a snakey snicker. I plead the fifth. Well, actually, I plead for a half. Fuzzface drives a hard bargain, so I ended up pleading a third. Stingy bitch.
Harry didn't say anything. He simply continued to give the Adder an irritated stare.
I'm not talking without a lawyer and a conman present. I need the conman to keep the lawyer honest, in case you were wondering. Ba dum, tiss.
Harry stared.
Damn it, that's creepy as hell! Who taught you to do that? It was the grass snakes, wasn't it? What've I told you about hanging out with them? They're bad influences, the Adder hissed. First you're hanging out with grass snakes, then you're sleeping on a warm rock all day. Soon you'll be snorting the booger sugar and dying with a needle full of skag in your arm.
"That… escalated quickly," Harry muttered.
The comment drew a strange look from Hermione, who happened to be standing well within earshot.
"Uh, Harry? What escalated quickly?"
"Nothing," Harry quickly replied. "Just thinking out loud."
Fucking racists. You think you're so good because you've got limbs and shit. "Oh, look at me. I'm so special because I have hands made for holding knives!" Some of us actually have to work for other people's money. Must be pretty easy to walk all over the legless with your stupid legs.
Harry groaned internally. If he had known things were going to be like this…
Who was he kidding? He would have been in just as fast. Probably faster. I mean, where else could he have seen the rainbow-colored aftermath of the world's most horrific rainbowing?
"Angel? Let the owl go. Don't make me tell you tell you," Harry ordered placing a hand down on the table. "Adder, come here."
Yes mommy. I'll be a good little snake, the Adder grumbled, slithering up his arm. You might want to keep in mind how close your pocket is to your sack and who sleeps there.
The Adder paused, freezing halfway up Harry's arm.
Your pocket. I sleep in your pocket. I don't want to go anywhere near your sack without a heavy layer of fabric between us. I ain't no spitting cobra, kid, so keep those paws to yourself, the Adder hissed. He slithered the rest of the way up Harry's arm and down through his robes. Poking his head out from under the hem of Harry's shirt, he announced, Ladies and gentlemen, please stand clear. The Adder is now entering "trouser snake" mode. Keep back, unless you wanna get an eye poked out.
Harry shook his head as the Adder vanished. That problem solved, he turned his eyes up toward Angel. The Familiar was now neatly poised in her seat. There was a suspiciously innocent look on her face and the owl was conspicuously absent.
"Angel. Where's the owl?" Harry demanded.
Angel shook her head and shrugged.
"Why aren't you answering me?"
Angel shrugged.
"Angel. Spit it out."
Angel gave him a look that was probably meant to say something along the lines of, "Spit what out?"
Harry sighed. "Please don't make me do it."
Angel examined his face. There was obvious reluctance there, but obvious determination as well. It was quite clear he was going to get his way, even if he didn't like how he did so.
Her bulging cheeks hid a faint smile.
Interesting…
Without further ado, Angel pitched her head forward and opened her mouth disturbingly wide. A small, feathered ball slammed into Harry's plate with a splat.
The owl started up at Harry with a shell-shocked look frozen on its face. Its eyes were full of wordless horror as it stared blankly up at him.
The things I've seen… they seemed to say.
Angel leaned forward and carefully flicked the bird with the back of a nail.
"Birdie…?" she asked hesitantly. When it didn't respond after a few more flicks, she popped it into the air and caught it balanced on the back of her hand. Raising it, she studied it carefully.
The owl stared back, completely unresponsive as it sat locked in an unnaturally still state of terror.
Frowning, Angel juggled it from hand to hand, then hurled it high enough that its tail feathers brushed the ceiling. Easily catching it on the back of one finger, she examined it again.
"My Boy, birdie isn't birdieing well. I know because they usually fly more," she announced. "I think he might be broke."
George shuddered and muttered, "I'd probably be pretty broke if all that happened to me…"
"How did you even fit that whole thing in your mouth? It shouldn't be physically possible," Hermione demanded.
Angel gave her a solemn look and replied, "It's all about technique. Being able to supress your gag reflex helps, too."
"...wonderful. Another sick, perverted redhead," the witch grumbled. She glared at her cup, then turned to fix Lady with an annoyed look. The water elemental was suddenly sitting across from her, acting for all the world as if she hadn't bailed and abandoned them earlier. "And why aren't you full of bird crap, huh? They even got my juice!"
"There was a… uh… minor incident in our first year. It was pretty much exactly what you just described," George said hesitantly, eyeing Lady. "The owls stay away from her now. Far away."
"Good. You're sitting with me from now on," Hermione informed the elemental. "If you're lucky I'll even let you feed me bacon."
Lady considered this briefly. On one hand, it would mean not sitting with (or on) her wizard and feeding him. On the other hand, he didn't appreciate it nearly as much as he should. Maybe a few weeks of not having her would teach him a lesson. If she was really lucky, maybe he'd even get jealous.
Decided, the elemental nodded.
"Good."
"Is she really made out of water?" Angel asked, turning away from the broken owl long enough to glance at Lady. She'd sort of noticed the other Familiar at the summoning, since it was kind of hard to miss her, but hadn't paid her a lot of attention. Her boy had been a lot more important, after all.
Harry nodded and declared, "Of course she is. She's a water elemental. It'd be strange if she wasn't made of water," unconsciously echoing King.
Angel gave him a doubtful look, then turned back to Birdie.
Harry, assuming the subject was pretty much sealed, was caught completely by surprise when Angel slammed a hand down on the table. The butter knife it landed on flipped into the air and was easily caught between two fingers. Without even bothering to look, she flicked her wrist and sent it screaming through the air straight at Lady's face. Unsurprisingly, it passed straight through her head and out the back.
From somewhere further down the hall there was a shocked cry of pain, followed by, "Holy shit! Cho!"
"Ooh~, she is," Angel said, still not looking away from the bird.
"Angel! What are you doing! You can't just throw things at people! You could have hurt someone!" Harry scolded her. It had taken approximately 1.2 seconds for his brain to edit out the cry of pain, then another 0.5 for him to convince himself he hadn't done so on purpose.
Angel shook her head.
"It's okay, My Boy. It was just a buttering knife. Even if she was made of the meats and bones, it wouldn't have hurt much. It wouldn't even have made it all the way through the skull parts!"
"Quick! Someone get ready with a clotting spell! I'm going to pull it out!"
Neville looked back and forth between his friends nervously. "Um, should we do something about that?"
"Do something about what, Neville?" Hermione asked curiously.
"Sweet Merlin. Someone help me with this! It must be lodged in the bone or something, because I can't get it out!"
Pointing down the hall, Neville clarified, "That. You know, the screaming and stuff?"
"Sorry, Neville. I've been suffering from random bouts of intermittent deafness. I haven't heard any screaming," Hermione said as she calmly slid one of the remaining covered platters across the table. "Hey, cool. Untainted french toast."
"She hit someone with a butter knife!" Neville accused, pointing at Angel. In response, she very deliberately turned her attention back to the owl and started prodding it with a look of extreme focus on her face.
George shook his head and gave Neville a worried look. "'She' Nev? Who's this 'she' you're talking about? Harry, do you remember a she somewhere around here? I guess she had a butter knife or something…."
"No shes around here, George. Certainly none that might have had a butter knife or something."
"I agree, Harry. In fact, I'm pretty sure I remember a distinct lack of shes, butter knives and or somethings."
Harry nodded seriously. "You know, Fred, now that you mention it, I'm pretty sure I remember not remembering seeing all those things that weren't at any point here."
"Did you guys say something? I just went deaf again for a second," Hermione asked.
Neville turned to give her an annoyed look. "Shouldn't you be mad about that?"
"Why would I be mad?" Hermione asked curiously."
You're the responsible one, right? You should be telling us to respect teachers and follow the rules!" Neville replied.
The comment got him a very weird look in return. "Why on Earth would you say that? Exactly what about me, from the time you met me until now, suggests I should act like that? Of course you should show obedience and respect, but that doesn't mean you should do so blindly. You-"
"Oh! I know!" Angel exclaimed suddenly, cutting her off. "I can fix birdie!"
Closing her eyes and sighing, Hermione declared, "There's no way in hell this ends well…"
"Birdie just needs a little help flying!" the Familiar said excitedly. She hopped up onto the table, sending the few remaining dishes flying.
Harry froze in shock for a moment, then shook his head and prepared to shout at her to stop. Unfortunately, his moment of hesitation lasted just a little too long.
"Angel, do-"
Angel twisted and ducked, whirling around in what was clearly a very practiced motion. Extending her arm, she torqued around and snapped the limb forward, launching the owl in a throw that had the power of her entire body and a significant amount of leverage behind it. The poor bird was sent flying through the air at a speed that made the butter knife look like it had been standing still.
Harry was pretty sure he witnessed the flesh around the thing's eyes peeling back due to the wind resistance, exposing more of its eyes than a person should ever see. It was a very cartoonish moment. It was also considerably more horrifying and disgusting to see it in person than on the telly.
"Birdie, fly!" Angel screamed happily as she released it.
A split second later there was a stomach-churning, meaty splat.
For several seconds the hall went silent.
Finally, George said, "They, uh, probably should have made that window a little bigger, huh?"
"Or moved it to the left," Hermione added. "Honestly, what a stupid place for a window."
"I don't think they were anticipating ballistic owls, Hermione," Neville said slowly.
There was a horrible slurping sound as the former owl separated itself from the stone wall. A wet splat echoed through the silent hall as it landed. The silence was shattered a moment later by a horrified scream.
"Oh my god, Cho!"
"It hit the knife!"
"Dear God, there's owl in her spleen!"
"¡Es no bueno!"
With a very unamused expression, McGonagall's slowly stood. Harry groaned slammed his face into the table. At this point he didn't even care about taking a stack of pancakes to the nose again, nor that they were this time decorated with feathers.
Here's hoping the rest of the year wasn't as vasco'd up.
=A=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=A=
Author's Note
=A=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=A=
Familiars in Angel and Orchid's class are basically tame monsters. A lot of times the word 'tame' is used very loosely. They're what goes bump in the night, so it shouldn't really shock anyone that she would try to eat a living owl face-first. She's still a weird cat-person-thing, even when she's not, so it's perfectly natural behavior.
I don't know if I've flat-out stated it before, but there's an important fact here that is demonstrated clearly for the first time. I mean, it was shown briefly with my boy Sparkles, but this chapter puts it right out in the open.
Familiars cannot disobey an actual command from their Master. That isn't to say they have to obey every command. It has to be a true you-will-do-this order. The Bond, which of course enforces that obedience, can tell the difference between and order and an Order.
I'm not going to capitalize that every time, I promise.
Anyway, it's something that most witches and wizards don't use a whole lot. While it may make one partner superior, the affection the Bond creates works both ways. Add to that the fact that most Familiars are simple animals and inclined to do whatever the Master wants anyway, and you get a power that most wizards employ less than a dozen times in their life. Some never use it at all.
An intelligent, strong-willed Familiar is a whole 'nother story.