Something Familiar (Mk.2)
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Something Familiar (Mk.2)
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Chapter Twelve
"Owls Break Fast"
AKA
"I Just Copied and Pasted Most of This"
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"My Boy, can I borrow the buttering knife?"
Harry turned give his Familiar a curious look. She was looking at him hopefully, her open hand raised towards him. The sharpened edges of her nails gleamed ominously in the morning light.
"I thought you liked to use those," he responded. He waved his pancake-laden fork at the deadly implements, being sure to not actually touch them. "Why do you need a knife?"
"Silly My Boy. Claws are good for lotsa things, but not everything. Sometimes you just need a buttering knife," she said seriously.
"Fine. Just don't cut it up, okay?" Harry sighed. He raised his other hand and reluctantly held the utensil for her to take.
"Thank you, My Boy!" she chirped, smacking it with the back of a nail. The knife was flung into the air, spinning wildly. Angel deftly caught the tip between her first and second fingers, cocked her hand back and snapped her wrist up. There was a brief flash of silver as it vanished towards the ceiling.
Harry gaped. "Angel, what are y-"
Harry's question ended prematurely as something large and gray slammed into his plate like a small meteor. A spray of egg and bacon flew in every direction, accompanied by a healthy portion of syrup and pumpkin juice. Fred and George, who had ducked under the table as soon as she threw the knife, managed to avoid the messy debris. King and Hermione weren't quite so lucky, and it was only Orchid's quick reaction that saved Neville from the same sticky fate.
Harry stared down at the large, grey barn owl staring up at him from what had been, just moments ago, his breakfast. The creature's beak worked open and closed, as if telling a wordless tale of terror. Its eyes were fixed on him, gazing through him towards something far in the distance. Just looking at it filled Harry with a wordless sense of despair and horror, as if the poor creature was oozing the bleak feelings.
He slowly turned to face his Familiar again.
It was pretty hard to miss the fact that she was, despite being right next to him, completely clean.
"Angel? Why is there an owl in my breakfast?" Harry asked slowly.
The familiar placed a finger on her lips and pouted. It was an expression that Harry suspected had been deliberately designed to crush the will of lesser men. Luckily he was more or less immune, though it was hard to say if it was an effect of the Bond or by simple virtue of overexposure.
"I'm sorry, My Boy. Birdie turned at the last second. It made my aim bad," she explained. Tapping the middle of the table she continued, "Birdie was supposed to land here."
Harry drew in a long, slow breath, trying to force down his irritation.
"Right," Harry sighed. "Lets try again. Angel, why did you hit an innocent owl with a butter knife?"
"We~ll, I wanted to use a piece of plate, but then birdie probably wouldn't do any more birdying. I thought that would make you sad."
"Honestly, Harry, what did you expect to happen?" Hermione asked from the egg-free side of the table. "Last time she 'used' a butter knife she tried to impale Lady with it. What did you think she was going to do? Cut her pancakes with it?"
Hermione pointed her fork, waggling a sausage at the remains of Angel's plate. The heavy metal dish had clearly experienced a close encounter with the wrong side of Angel's nails. It was now divided into twelve perfectly even segments, each ending in a slim point. It was easy to see why she thought getting hit with one would make an owl stop birdieing, especially given the havoc she could wreak with a blunt object.
"Eating is hard…" the familiar grumbled.
"I didn't think she was going to kill an owl with it!" Harry snapped.
Angel gasped. "I didn't kill birdie! I was a good kitty! I just banged him in the head a little."
The owl began emitting a high-pitched clicking noise. It slowly rolled off Harry's plate, head swiveling to keep its eyes on him the whole time.
Angel giggled slightly and rubbed the back of her head. "O~kay, maybe I banged him in the head a lot. I've never hit an owl-birdie with a stupid dull knife before!" she said defensively. "There's a… uh… that thing where the thing you wanna do isn't what you did, but it's kind of close…?"
"Margin of error." Hermione helpfully offered.
"Ooh~, right! That one!"
Harry sighed and rubbed his temples. It was something he'd seen his uncle do on occasion after a particularly stressful day, and he was starting to see the attraction. "Hermione, don't encourage her…"
"Why not? I, personally, think she did a very good job of not killing that horrid creature," Hermione said stiffly. "It shows an impressive level of restraint."
"Yeah! Hitting things with other things isn't easy. I'd like to see you do better, My Boy!" Angel exclaimed sulkily.
"That's really not the issue here, Angel. I don't care how hard you hit it…" Harry paused, examining the owl carefully. It was still staring at him, but now its tiny tongue was lolling out the side of its beak. "Actually, I take it back. I'm glad you didn't hit it any harder. Good job."
Hermione gave him an approving nod and patted the Familiar on the head. "See? Good kitty."
"Hehe. I'm a good kitty! Right, my boy?"
"Yeah, sure. Why not?" Harry sighed.
He studied the owl for a moment longer, then gave it an experimental prod with his spoon. The owl panicked and started to flap its wings, as if trying to fly away, but that proved to be impossible while laying on its side. All it managed to do was catapult itself into a startled Harry's lap.
"Gah! Owl!" he yelped in surprise. He just barely managed to catch it before it rolled off his lap and fell to the floor. Holding it up, he inspected its face carefully. "Uh, I'm not an owl doctor, but I think this thing's pretty messed up."
As if in response to the comment, the owl began turning its head. It went around two full revolutions before coming to rest with its eyes on Harry.
The table went silent.
"Uh… can owls do that?" Neville asked quietly.
"No, they can't." Hermione answered. "If that thing starts launching pea soup, I'm out of here."
Harry stared. "I- I could swear I was about to say something."
"Were you going to ask whether or not Kitten can kill a possessed owl with a butter knife?" George suggested.
Angel cheerfully raised a hand, brandishing another dull implement of destruction. "I can! Wait… are these made of blessed silver? 'Cuz if they're not, it's gonna take longer and be a lot messier…"
"Right. That. Drop it!" Harry ordered. Angel's hand immediately shot open, letting the knife fall to the table. "You're not allowed to use butter knives anymore. You have lost your butter knife privileges. Understand?"
"Yes…" Angel sulked.
"Good." Harry carefully stood the owl on the table. The creature stood upright for about half a second before wobbling, tipping and landing face-first in Harry's pancakes. A few moments after it fell its feet began to move, shifting back and forth as if it was trying to balance itself.
Frowning, Harry set the owl back on its feet. It emitted a low whistle and fell the other way, nearly rolling off the table. He set it on its feet again and scowled when it fell backwards and knocked over a goblet. It was set on its feet yet again, but fell backwards once more and somehow wedged its head in the same fallen cup.
"You know what? Fine." Harry hissed. He grabbed the goblet and flipped it back upright. The poor owl went with it, head still firmly lodged deep within. One of its legs was attempting to walk, while the other was making a strange hopping motion.
"Now, why did you use a butter knife to inflict permanent brain damage on an owl?" he demanded.
"O~h, why didn't you just ask that earlier?" Her hand flashed out and hauled the damaged creature into the air. Harry stared as it swung - complete with goblet - from the loop of leather cord she'd slipped a nail through. "Birdie was bad. He had things for you, but didn't bring them."
Hanging from the cord was a small envelope. It was made of a paper that even Harry - being rather unexperienced in the exciting world of stationary - could recognize as very expensive and high-quality. The name "Harry James Potter" was written on it in what he immediately recognized as Hagrid's flowing script. The ink was even flecked with what looked like fine gold and silver powder, making it shine in the morning light.
"My middle name is James?" he asked in amazement.
"See? Bad birdie," Angel said happily. She quickly turned her hand over, introducing the leather cord to the sharpened side of her nail. It offered no resistance, immediately sending the owl plunging towards the table. The goblet hit the wooden surface with a deep thunk. More of the owl vanished as the impact drove it deeper into the vessel.
The envelope didn't even fall half an inch before it was snatched out of the air. Angel smiled as she raised her hand, offering it to Harry. He took it from between her knuckles with a look of disbelief on his face.
"Do you always hold things like that?" Hermione asked curiously.
"Huh?" Angel eloquently responded without taking her eyes off Harry. Getting scolded was worth it if it made her Boy this happy. "Like what?"
"Like this." Hermione held up a closed fist and pointed to the space between her first two fingers. "With the knife and the envelope, both times you held them here."
"Oh. Kitties don't normally have their claws out, but mine don't go in. I cut things on accident, so I can't really use here," she raised her hands and pressed the pads of her fingers together. "I can make them not-sharp if I try, but it's hard to think about doing things and not cutting things all at the same time."
"That would make fine manipulation pretty difficult," Hermione mused. "What about Harry? You sleep with him, right? Isn't that dangerous?"
"Uh-uh. I don't even have to think about not cutting My Boy. If something's really, really important to me, I don't need to think about not hurting it. My claws just go dull all on their own. Sil'then said it must be something I do sub… uh… sub..."
"Subconsciously?" Hermione supplied.
"Yeah, that one. There's not a lot of things like that, though. I can touch My Boy all I want, but it'd be a bad thing if my claws got you…"
Hermione stared at the neatly-sectioned metal plate. "Yeah, I can see that not being fun."
"I'm really good at not using the fingers, so you don't hafta worry 'bout getting the scratches. I've got lotsa practice!"
"That's reassuring, at least. Still, that must be awfully inconvenient," Hermione mused, staring down at her plate. "Hmm…"
The rules of the wizarding world were remarkably inconsistent and it was beginning to annoy her. The Bond was supposed to prevent a Familiar from deliberately harming their master, but that didn't seem to apply here. Cutting someone in your sleep wouldn't be deliberate at all. Meanwhile, Ri and Ru seemed able to maul their masters with impunity, which seemed like a clear violation of the "do not harm" clause.
She felt like she was missing a piece here. She hated that feeling.
Harry was also lost in thought, still staring at the small envelope in disbelief. He didn't even notice when the damaged owl vanished.
One tiny leg kicked in the air as George swung the goblet by the stem. The other was tucked up tight to the owl's body, quivering slightly. An odd howling could be heard reverberating inside the goblet.
"Y'know, I really hope this thing's okay." George sighed.
Fred nodded. 'Yeah, we keep breaking mail owls and we'll probably get in trouble."
"That's what you're worried about?"
"Well, what else should we be worried about?" George asked. He was doing a rather remarkable job twirling the goblet around one finger by the stem. With a slight twist, he sent it spiraling into the air.
Fred casually caught the falling owl and sent it spinning across the table with a flick of his wrist. "Yeah. It's not like our reputations could get any worse. Especially since we hang out with our lordship, destroyer of worlds and bane of silverware!"
There was an annoyed harumph from further down the table.
"The owl, maybe?" Hermione responded, pointing at the cup George was carefully examining. "It seems like you're being pretty inhumane. Owls are still living things, even if they're vile, disgusting blights on the world that shouldn't be allowed within a thousand meters of civilized beings."
Harry suspected the witch might still be holding a grudge over their first owlpocolypse.
Neville stared. "Uh, Hermione? You have an owl on your shoulder."
The girl turned to look at the tiny owl. Smiling as Headwig made another bit of bacon vanish, she rubbed her on the head. "Gee, thank you Neville. I'm so glad someone pointed out I was occupied by an owl in such an efficient and timely manner," she growled.
"What he's trying to say is that it seems a bit silly to say that when you've spent the last twenty minutes feeding an owl your breakfast. It makes you look a little foolish," George clarified. He frowned as he gave the trapped owl's feet a little tug. The creature showed no sign of budging. "Fred, I need a #2 spoon and some strawberry… no… grape jam."
"Please, it's not like Headwig asked to be associated with trash like that. Just look at how pretty and well-mannered she is. She's clearly nothing like the others. In fact, she's probably the only good thing to ever come from owlkind," Hermione stiffly announced. The Familiar puffed itself up and stood tall under her loving gaze. "She's wonderful enough to justify the species' existence. It's quite an accomplishment, considering how disgusting the rest are."
Showing a total lack of species loyalty, Headwig nodded firmly.
"And they call us the blood traitors…" Fred grumbled. "Brother, we don't have a #2 spoon. All we've got is a #4 and a #Q."
"Damn it. The #4 will have to do," muttered George, accepting the spoon. "And I don't thing being humane figures into it on this one. Mail owls aren't real owls, so it seems silly to be upset about one or two getting brain damaged."
Hermione stared at him. "What?"
"They're mass-produced in growing vats," George clarified. "They're conditioned to deliver mail with mind magic, then sold off. They're more like homunculi than real owls."
"You realize I'm not an idiot, right?"
King cleared his throat, momentarily pushing Lady's fork away from his mouth. "Actually, they are speaking the truth. I was hesitant to believe it myself, but all my research into the subject has only verified their claims, absurd as they may be."
"See? Totally artificial. They don't have feelings," George continued. He was carefully using a spoon to apply jam to the lip of the goblet. "They're pretty close to not being alive, really. Probably closer to a brick than a bird."
"They're even delivered by mail owls. Ironic, huh?"
George sighed. "That's not ironic, Fred. It's just kinda weird."
"But- but… Headwig!" Hermione protested.
"Don't know why you care, but I wouldn't worry about it. She's not a standard-issue model and I doubt anyone would bother to have a custom model made that small. Little thing can probably barely carry a letter."
Hermione smiled and snatched Headwig off her shoulder and hugged her. The owl made a happy noise as she was squeezed against the witch's chest. "See? I knew you were different."
"Right…" Fred drawled as Hermione cheerfully went back to eating her breakfast. He shook his head. "Brother, do you think it would help if we poked it with a stick?"
"Perhaps, but we're distinctly lacking in sticks at the moment," George replied. Something poked him in the side. Looking down, he discovered… a stick!
"Will this do?" Neville asked, holding it up.
George inspected it carefully. "Hmm… that is rather nice, but I don't suppose you have one of a larger diameter? It would be ideal if it had a three degree bend in the middle."
Neville shrugged and held a hand out to the side. Smiling happily, Orchid placed a new stick in it.
"Here."
In exchange for his wooden implement, Neville received an impressed look.
"Rather useful, that… Now, let's see…" George studied the stick carefully. "17 millimeters in diameter, 2.873 degree bend, three millimeters off center toward the poking end. Not bad."
He poked the owl's feet with the stick. When that got no response, he poked it in the rear. This caused one of the bird's feet to extend violently, nearly knocking the poking implement out of his hand. A sound very similar to a bullfrog's croak echoed through the goblet.
"Brother, I don't think it's helping. Are you sure you're poking it right?"
"Of course I'm poking it right!" George snapped. "You think I don't know how to poke an owl with a stick?"
Fred giggled. "I dunno, George. I'm surprised you know how to poke a bird at all, let alone in the rear!"
"I hate you," George growled. Turning back to the owl, he mused, "Maybe we just need a bigger stick?"
"Not the first time you've said that, is it?"
"Damn it, Fred, I'm trying to-" George cut off as he noted Hermione grinning at him from across the table. "You know what? I hate you too. I hate you all. Someone just get me a bigger owl-poking tool!"
There was a bang as a small log the size of a man's arm slammed onto the table.
"Yeah, that's probably not-"
"You're doing it wrong."
Fred, George and Neville let out yelps of surprise. Fred's plate went flying as he failed to regain his balance and Orchid just barely caught Neville before he hit the floor. The only one to successfully remain seated was George, and that was only because of the slim hand that was suddenly holding his shoulder.
George stared at the gleaming, four-centimeter nails. Leaning back a little, he glanced the other direction and observed Angel leaning over his shoulder.
"Kitten, where the heck did you come from?" he demanded. Sure, they had all been focusing on the owl, but surely they hadn't been that distracted. At least Fred should have noticed her, considering he was facing straight towards his brother.
"Hm… That's a kinda messy and icky story. Lotsa sticky stuff. Might've been some chains involved," she giggled. Quickly reaching out, she traced a semicircle across the side of the cup. A sizable chunk of metal fell out, allowing the owl to drop onto George's plate with a soft splat.
It immediately spread its wings and began making a strange "meep" noise.
George carefully picked it up and tapped the side of its head. With each tap its eyes jerked violently to the side in a way that almost hurt to watch. "Damn, I think it's pretty busted up. Hey, anyone in there?"
"No~, you're doing it wrong again! Here, let me try!" Angel snatched it out of his hand before he could stop her.
"Kitten, I don't know if-"
Raising the owl to eye level, she gave it a sweet smile. "Bir~die~," she quietly sang.
George shivered involuntarily as an ice-cold chill went down his spine. Something about her voice just then made him want to dive under the table, or possibly just run in the other direction as fast as he could.
In jerky motions reminiscent of a puppet used by a poor puppeteer, the owl lowered its wings. Its eyes slowly swiveled to stare straight at Angel. They actually focused on her, rather than staring at some unseen point in the distance, and fixed her with an intense stare. Its beak opened, slowly and ponderously, like it was taking great effort to move it.
"See? Birdie's all bett-"
The owl screamed.
It wasn't a chirp, hoot, whistle, or any other sound you could reasonably expect an owl to make. It was an honest-to-god scream. Even worse, the sound that violently erupted from the owl was a noise that no mortal creature should be able to produce. It was like someone took a seventy-thirty mix of pure fear and suffering, added a dash of mind-numbing terror, blended well and converted the resulting concoction straight into sound. Just hearing it made George want to cower in a corner.
In response, Angel reacted in the best way a person possibly could in this situation. She screamed bloody murder and released it, thrusting it away from herself.
The damaged owl took off like a shot. It was little more than a grey blur as it launched itself directly away from Angel. The whole time its head was turned around so it could keep its crazed eyes fixed on the redhead. It continued to scream without pause, as if it had transcended to a level of fear that rendered breathing meaningless.
The scream cut off suddenly, terminating in a wet splat.
George, shuddering as he shook off the lingering effects of the nightmarish howl, started. "Damn. They really should have made that window bigger," he muttered. "And they just finished scraping the last one off, too."
"That was… perhaps the most horrifying thing I have experienced in the entire span of my existence," King muttered, shuddering. In his lap, the entire surface of Lady's body was rippling as she shivered in horror.
"Worse than the Goo?"
"Worse than the Goo."
George nodded and ran his hands up and down his arms, trying to banish the chill brought about by the owl's scream. "That was… a horrible, horrible malfunction…"
"I'm pretty sure that sound will haunt my dreams for the rest of my life," Fred agreed.
"I'd say the wall did us a favor. That thing was an affront to all living beings, an abomination that should never have existed," George continued. "The world is better off without it. It would have been better if it never existed at all, but..."
"Can I eat it, then?" Angel eagerly asked.
Harry, still running his fingers lightly across his envelope, absently muttered, "Sure."
Everyone at the table - humans, foxes, elemental, plant and transformed cat - stared at Harry in shock. For just a moment, everything was dead silent as they looked at him with wide eyes.
The silence was broken by Angel screaming, "Yay!"
She vaulted George and landed on the table. Before anyone could stop her, she launched herself into the air again. The leap easily carried her across the distance to Hufflepuff's section of the hall. Plates flew in every direction as she landed in the center of a table, eliciting a flurry of angry shouts.
She didn't even seem to notice them as she catapulted towards Ravenclaw. She hit hard and barely managed to dig her nails in before she slid off. Grinning gleefully, she tore down the length of the table. Food was flung in every direction she trampled serving dishes and plates.
The rest of the group was still staring at Harry.
Finally noticing he was the center of attention, Harry looked up from the envelope curiously. "What?" he asked, clearly confused.
"Harry, my friend, I do regret to inform you that… you may have-" Hermione cut King off.
"You told Angel she could eat a mail owl, Harry," Hermione interrupted.
"I did?" Harry asked, staring at her in shock.
There was a sickening crunch, audible even from the Gryffindor tables. It was quickly followed by an array of screams, punctuated by loud gagging noises. One voice in particular drowned out the others as it screamed, "Oh god! She got it in my eyes!".
It was immediately followed by a quieter voice yelling, "Oh no! Cho!"
"Huh. I did," Harry observed.
"It's gonna be re~ally hard to deny this one, huh Fred?" George muttered. He paused, then looked across the table. There was a very obvious lack of Freds there. The fox laying next to his plate tapped his arm, then used her tail to point down the table.
"What's that George?" Fred yelled. "I can't hear you from all the way down here, which is where I've been eating my breakfast all morning!"
"Well played, brother," George sighed. Shaking his head, he smiled down at the fox sitting by his plate. "At least I can count on you, right?"
She looked up at him with obvious pity in her eyes. A white paw lashed out and knocked the last of his bacon off the table. She quickly joined it, dropping into his lap next to her sister. The pair gathered up the food in their mouths and took off down the bench as fast as their paws could carry them.
"That reminds me… Could you pass the bacon?" Hermione asked.
King just gave her a shocked stare, so Lady helpfully leaned over and pushed the platter towards her.
"How in the world could you possibly eat after… that?"
"Don't expect me to be a sissy just because the rest of you are. It's not like a cat hybrid tearing apart a mutilated nightmare owl's corpse with her bare hands is a big deal," she said defensively. She paused for a moment with a piece of bacon halfway to her mouth. Headwig happily fluttered by and repossessed it. "Wow. I haven't even been here for a month and I have no idea where the line for 'weird' is at this point."
King sighed. "It would perhaps be better if we all simply forgot this, at least until the inevitable repercussions… arrive…" he trailed off, looking at something behind Harry.
A pair of arms slipped around him from behind and locked him in a hug. Angel happily leaned down and nuzzled the side of his face. "Thank you, My Boy. Birdie was ve~ry good, and I'm sure he was happy he could be useful even after he wasn't a birdie anymore."
Harry twitched. "Angel, that was jam you just smeared all over my cheek, right?"
"Uh… I guess it was… kinda… jam?"
Harry twitched again. "Angel, that was jam you just smeared all over my cheek," he said firmly.
"O~h. I get it! Of course it was jam, My Boy. What else could it be?" she asked, bouncing back into her seat. She smiled at him. Her lower face and upper chest were painted red. Scattered here and there were small, wet chunks that were definitely just strawberries. "You can be so~ silly, My Boy."
Harry sighed and glanced up and down the table. Frowning, he stretched across and snatched a couple of pieces of toast off their platter. "Here," he said, thrusting them at Angel. "Wipe all the… jam off."
She took the toast and began doing exactly that, humming a happy tune while she scraped off the red mess.
Harry sighed and grabbed a piece of toast for himself. He tried not to think too much about what he was doing as he wiped his cheek with it.
"Well, that's disgusting," Hermione declared, taking another bite of toast. "Did you manage to get any in your mouth?"
"Oh, I got lots in my mouth. But birdies are really wet when they're nice and warm, so they go squirt when you bite them."
"Yeah, I probably could have lived the rest of my life without knowing that," George muttered.
"That makes sense. The blood wouldn't have started coagulating yet. Have you tried, I don't know… cutting a hole and squeezing it all out? Maybe that'll help." Hermione suggested.
"Hermione! Don't encourage her!" Harry snapped.
The witch grabbed a piece of toast off the platter and started smearing strawberry jam across it. Holding it up, she examined it, then studied Harry's "jam" covered toast. With a shrug she stuffed it in her mouth. "It's perfectly natural, Harry. It's not like I decided how the world-"
There was a wet splat.
Every remaining occupant of the table recoiled in horror. Well, almost every remaining occupant. Hermione, a piece of toast still hanging from her mouth, decided that wasn't going quite far enough. Headwig just barely managed to disembark before the witch keeled over and released a rainbow onto the floor.
"That is not natural," gagged Neville
"Hey, guys. What's up?" Ron asked as he dropped into the seat next to Hermione.
Still coughing, she snapped, "Ronald, get that… thing off the table!"
"What? Why? Scabbers is my Familiar."
The Familiar was even worse up close. Its long, thick fur was soggy and glistened like an oil slick in the morning light. Patches of it were overgrown by a long, green moss that swayed gently in the breeze. The fur almost completely covered eyes that peered out pitifully, as if asking for a merciful death. It was hard to tell if it had legs, but its long tail slid back and forth across the table. Each movement produced a disgusting slosh. The slimy trail it left glimmered in a way that was almost pleasant.
"That… that should not be near our food, Ronald. Please remove it," King requested. From his lap, Lady firmly nodded in agreement. She raised an arm menacingly, water flowing up it to form a large sledgehammer.
"That… that should not be near our us, Ronald. Please make it go away," George corrected. "If you don't get rid of it I'll ask Kitten how far she can throw it."
"No way! You know kitties clean by licking, right? I"m not touching that!" Angel said.
"There's something wrong with you guys. Oh, cool. Toast." Ron leaned forward and snatched the food off the table, jamming nearly the whole thing in his mouth. After a moment he paused, a confused look on his face. "Hey, does this jam taste weird?"
Another rainbow hit the floor, courtesy of Hermione.
"Is there something wrong with her? Because that's really gross. You shouldn't even come to breakfast if you're just gonna throw up everywhere," Ron said in disgust, bits of half-chewed toast and blobs of "jam" falling from his mouth. Shaking his head, he reached for the last few pieces of bacon on the serving platter.
There was a white flash. A few drops of blood flew into the the air. Ron jerked his hand back with a hiss, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Headwig was standing between him and the bacon.
"What the heck is wrong with you!?" Ron demanded.
George laughed out loud. "I think she's saying that's Hermione's bacon, my dear little brother."
"No, that's my bacon," Ron declared. "Move it."
Headwig chirped angrily.
"Move or I'll move you myself!"
Headwig chirped again. For some reason, Harry got the distinct impression it was the owl equivalent of screaming, "Come at me, bro!"
Ron hit the table in annoyance and reached out. "Fine, you stupid little-"
His back slammed into the stone floor hard enough to drive every last gasp of air out of his lungs. He stared in horror and disbelief at the tiny owl now perched on his nose. She had her head cocked so she could stare down at him with wide, dark eyes. Her glare bored straight through could practically feel the glare pressing down on him, making it difficult to even catch his breath.
Without taking her eyes off him, the owl slowly drew a wing across her neck. The wordless message was quite clearly conveyed: Mess with me and you'll be on your knees faster than a sorority girl at a frat party.
"Right," Ron squeaked. "Gotcha."
Headwig gave his nose another menacing squeeze, nearly driving her talons through his flesh, then launched off it. Ron clambered to his feet, desperately trying to look like he didn't just get his ass handed to him by a bird that didn't even weigh a quarter of a kilogram.
Rounding the table, he dropped into the empty seat next to Harry and began angrily stroking his Familiar. A nasty sound was produced each time he raked his hand through its fur. "What the heck are you thinking, bringing a crazy bird like that to breakfast. Your Familiar's nuts!"
"She's my Familiar, genius. Of course she comes to breakfast with me," Hermione hissed. She smiled as she held a strip of bacon up. Headwig quickly hopped down her arm and began tearing chunks off, head turned to look at Ron the whole time. "And I really don't think you have the right to criticize my dining habits. Not after tossing that thing on the table."
"He's my Familiar! Yours gets to be on the table. So do theirs," Ron shouted, pointing at the only Weasley twin still present.
"Ri and Ru are clean. Headwig is clean. Angel, when she's not covered in blood and entrails, is clean as well. I don't have a problem with any of them being on the table, other than when the cat makes it hard to eat. But that? That is quite obviously not clean."
"Now, now, let's all calm down," George interrupted. He slid Harry's plate towards Ron with a disarming smile. "Here, little brother. Have Harry's toast. I don't think he was going to eat it, anyway."
Ron lifted his hand off his familiar with a unpleasant sucking sound. Drops of thick, semi-opaque liquid dribbled onto the table. Scowling, he grabbed the offered toast and rammed it into his mouth. A thick strand of fluid stretched between his fingers and food hole as he withdrew his hand.
Hermione decided to taste the rainbow again.
"Wow. How much did she eat?" George asked, clearly impressed.
Ron paused in licking his fingers to glare and say, "That's really disgusting."
"I thought you had a strong stomach, Hermione," George remarked.
Hermione sat back up and wiped her mouth with a piece of toast. "I told you, a cat eating a bird is perfectly natural. That and that," she pointed first at the rat, then at Ron, "are far from natural."
Flatware rattled as Ron hit the table. "What the heck is wrong with you? You've been a jerk ever since I sat down!"
"I happen to find you rude and disgusting, and it's not just this morning, either. You were very unpleasant both after the Summoning and have been nothing but obnoxious since," Hermione sniffed. "I've spoken to you for less than two hours in total and you are already one of the least likeable people I've ever met."
"I'm not likable? Well, you know what? At least I have friends!" he shouted, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder.
Harry stared at the gelatinous fluid running off the boy's hand and onto his new robes. He looked up at Hermione's upset face and King's disapproving expression. Sitting on the same side as him, Neville had gone quiet and was trying to ignore the situation. Judging by the thorns poking out of her skin, this annoyed Orchid to a potentially unsafe degree. George, sitting right next to him, was just giving him a slightly curious look, as if wondering what he would do.
Harry thought for a moment, then frowned. "Angel," he intoned decisively.
An arm slipped around Ron's shoulder, causing him to stiffen in shock.
"Hi~. I'm Angel!" the familiar said with a friendly smile.
"I- I know... " he said with a faint tremor in his voice. "How did-"
"Oh? That's nice," she cut him off happily. She pointed down the table towards where Fred and the foxes were sitting. "You should go eat over there."
"I don't want to-"
Angel's hand tightened on his shoulder almost imperceptibly. As small as the motion was, it was enough to bring the sharp edges of her claws within a hair's breadth of his flesh. There wasn't even the slightest resistance as they parted the fabric of his robes.
Leaning down so her lips were centimeters from his ear, she whispered, "You should go eat over there."
Ron went pale. With a frightened squeak he scrambled out of his chair, nearly tipping himself to the floor in his haste to leave. With a frown, Angel grabbed his plate, slid the edge under his "rat" and flipped it through the air. An instant later, they were treated to a horrified scream from Fred.
Angel smiled brilliantly and said, "Oops. Guess he shoulda been sitting over here with all've us!"
"What the heck did you say to him?" George asked with wide eyes.
Angel put a nail to her lips pensively. "Uh… I asked nicely? I'm good at asking nicely!" she answered. She pulled her finger back and studied her nail. Her tongue flicked out and traced the sharpened edge. "Mmm… birdie."
"Huh. I should really consider asking nicely more… often…" George trailed off. "Uh, oops?"
"Yes, I think 'oops' would be appropriate," Professor McGonagall's very unamused voice came from behind Harry. "Though, it may not be nearly strong enough."
"Err… I don't suppose you'd believe a different insane cat hybrid did it?" George asked hopefully.
McGonagall stared down at Angel.
The vines that made up her top were squirming, thin tendrils climbing her chest to snatch and devour the bits of "strawberry" scattered across her cleavage. They were disposing of the evidence very efficiently, but they weren't quite quick enough. Angel giggled and squirmed slightly as they wound up her neck in an attempt to get what little "jam" the toast had failed to remove.
George coughed into his hand. "Yeah, that's kind of a hard sell, isn't it?"
"Indeed. Mr. Potter and Ms. Angel will be coming with me. I assume I can trust the rest of you to behave yourselves for the remainder of the meal," she stated in a tone that basically screamed, "That better be a safe assumption."
The table's residents hastily nodded.
"Good. Come along then. I believe we have a matter to discuss."
Harry's erstwhile dining partners watched him leave the dining hall on McGonagall's heels.
"So… uh.. Wow," George muttered suddenly, breaking the silence.
"I do believe that my interpretation of the word 'disturbing' has been forever altered by this meal," King announced. "I feel it goes without saying that it was not for the better."
There were several nods from around the table.
"I hate to say it, but at least the rest of us aren't getting in trouble," Fred said.
George stared across the table. The chair there had, at some point, decided its Fred quota had to be fulfilled. Said Fred was staring back, his innocent gaze matched by the foxes sitting on either shoulder.
"What the heck do you think you're doing here!?" George demanded.
Fred gave him a puzzled look and held up a piece of bacon. "Eating breakfast. It is breakfast, after all, so it would be kind of weird if I wasn't."
The foxes nodded in agreement.
"Oh, no. No way. You three don't get to sit here! You sit over there. You sit with the disappointments and traitors!" George snapped, pointing back the way Fred had come.
Their end of the Gryffindor table had already been vacant due to their housemates' fear of King. Normally this wouldn't have been a issue, given that the table was far larger than needed to accommodate the full house.
Unfortunately, Ron's forced relocation had caused another problem to arise. Put simply, no one wanted to be anywhere near the supposed rat. This had caused another mass migration, pushing the disgusted students even further down the table. The end result was that over half the Gryffindor table had become a desolate wasteland.
The students had packed their chairs as close together as possible, but there was only so much room. People were actually standing up and leaning over their housemates to eat. Some had decided to cut out the middleman and find a willing lap to occupy, while others were on the floor with their plates balanced on their legs
Fred stared first at the jam-packed section, then at the empty area surrounding Ron.
"You're kidding, right?"
"i shall visit upon you countless unspeakable torments, tearing at your mind and feasting upon your soul until you are naught but an empty husk, devoid of warmth and life - your torment shall be an offering to the faceless legion, their presence in this world growing stronger with every scream torn from your pathetic lips" George uttered. "eternity itself shall weep as your existence is torn asunder and ground to nothing beneath the black gears of the abyss"
Fred took an involuntary step back.
"Uh, right… I'll just… go sit with Ron, then…" he stammered. Never taking his eyes off his brother, he slowly backed down the table.
George surveyed the table, his eyes once again normal. Around him, his friends and housemates were staring at him in disbelief and horror. After considering for a moment, he looked down at his plate with a frown.
"Whoa, I felt weird for a second there," he muttered. "But hey, Kitten was right. Asking nice does work."
"Uh, yeah. That reminds me," Hermione said, tapping a butter knife against her plate. "The council of Gryffindors-that-don't-suck has passed a new resolution. By popular vote, you're eternally banned from eggs."
George stared at her like she'd made a very unfunny joke. "You're kidding, right?"
"Nope. You're done," Hermione declared. She reached across the table and grabbed his plate with one hand. As he watched in disbelief, she started sliding it away from him.
George's brain caught up about the time his plate was halfway across the table. Reaching for it, he said, "No I'm-"
Thunk.
The butter knife slammed down between his index and middle fingers. It was so close that he could feel the blunt edge brushing the web of his hand. It was probably a good thing it hadn't been a bit closer, because it came down with enough force to drive it into the wooden table. It even stood on end as Hermione released it, embedded deep enough that it required no support.
"Sorry, George, what did you say?" she asked sweetly.
George studied the knife, then reluctantly withdrew his hand. "I was just saying how full I was. Couldn't eat another bite."
"Good. It'd be a shame if something unfortunate happened to you. Oh, and George?"
"...yeah?"
Hermione fixed him with a glare, the promise of imminent violence clear in her eyes. "Don't even think about sneaking any. Trust me, we'll know if you do. You probably don't want the council to have to vote on a punitive action."
"How would you even-"
The rest of the question went unasked, cut off by Neville's startled cry. A small object, just having ricocheted off his skull, slammed into his plate. The table was once again subjected to a spray of assorted breakfast foods.
George stared at the paper-wrapped package in surprise, then looked up. A large, brown barn owl was hovering above them. He could swear the thing had a smug look on its face.
"What the hell is wrong with you!?"
The bird gave a derisive hoot and turned to fly away.
The Weasley said something that probably shouldn't be reproduce in writing, then joined the others in examining the owl's improvised projectile.
Orchid, on the other hand, was concerned with something else entirely. She quickly glanced over, confirming that everyone else was busy trying to figure out what the filthy creature had hit her Keeper with. Seeing that they were all occupied, she quickly raised an arm.
The appendage split slightly, allowing a thin vine to emerge. The bit of greenery shot out like a bullet, crossing the hall in an instant. The departing owl didn't even have time to hoot in surprise before it was snatched out of the air. Orchid's arm peeled open into three parts, forming a nightmarish maw lined with tooth-like thorns. The bird finally managed a squawk as it was reeled in, but the noise was lost as her appendage closed with a satisfying crunch.
"Did you just hear something?" King asked, looking up and down the table.
Orchid smiled sweetly, tilted her head, and gave him her best "I'm just a plant and I don't understand" look.
"I hear a lot of things, King," George sighed. "Man, this place is getting out of control. Considering I'm the one saying that, there's something seriously wrong going on. You okay, Nev?"
"Yeah. It didn't hit that hard," Neville muttered. He gingerly prodded the new sore spot on his jaw. "What the heck just happened?"
"It appears a mail owl just struck you with a small package," King responded.
"Door-to-face deliveries. Great customer service. I hope that little bastard gets what's coming to him," George declared.
Orchid smiled happily. Helping people felt much nicer than she would have thought. It wasn't quite as nice as eating them, but might serve as an acceptable second choice.
"Oh, by the way. It's for you," George declared, holding the filthy package by a string. "Congratulations, Lord Nev. You're the proud owner of whatever the heck this is. I'm not sure whether that's better or worse than getting pegged with someone else's package, but whatever."
Neville stared at the filthy package. He could just barely make out his grandmother's name beneath the chunks of egg and pancake.
"Uh… Orchid?"
A thorny vine lashed out, instantly turning the brown paper into ragged shreds. A clear sphere fell to the table with a thud.
"Seriously?" George asked. "A Remembrall?"
It was definitely a Rememberall, the seventh most useless commercially produced magical item.
"Awesome," Neville said blandly.
=A=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=A=
Author's Note
=A=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=A=
I really just pulled most of this out of my ass so I didn't have to feel bad about horrible things happening to the mail owls.
You may be wondering what the first through sixth most useless commercially produced magical items are. Well, keep wondering. It may or may not be important eventually.
I was kind of intoxicated the first time I sort of wrote the part with the Nightmare Owl. I say 'sort of wrote' because even I could barely decipher the draft I wrote.