Chapter 1

"Och, my gracious!" Professor McGonagall attempted to shoo the hawk that had just flown into her office, but the bird simply settled itself on her desk and stared at her. "Out!" McGonagall tried again, pointing to the window. The hawk seemed to shake its head no. The two stared at one another for a long moment, and then McGonagall shrugged. "Suit yourself," she told it, sitting back at her desk and resuming her grading.

The hawk came to stand on her paper, however, and McGonagall set her quill down with enough force to rattle the inkpot. "Can I help you!" she exclaimed, aggravated and yet abashed that she was allowing a bird to upset her.

Oddly, the bird bobbed its head up and down rapidly, almost as though it was nodding. McGonagall couldn't help but smile at the creature's antics, and she opened a drawer to grab a biscuit. "Would you like—"

Before she could even offer it, the bird had knocked the biscuit from her hand and moved closer, until they were almost beak-to-nose. McGonagall had never seen a creature act this way before. It was almost as if...as if... But no, it couldn't be. As a registered Animagus herself, McGonagall knew there were none currently residing in the castle. If a student had been experimenting with the spell then she would have surely known about that too... A horrible thought struck. "Miss Granger?"

The bird removed itself from in front of her face and again its head bobbed up and down frantically. "Oh, dear. What are you—how did this—whatever have you done?"

The bird—no, Hermione—looked around the office and then flew to the chalkboard. She gripped a piece of chalk in her beak and began to awkwardly drag her face around the board, clearly attempting to communicate. McGonagall waited, curious and nervous. What on earth could the girl be playing at?

Finally, she seemed to get frustrated because she threw the chalk on the ground and turned to glare at McGonagall. Or perhaps she wasn't glaring, but it was hard to tell. The hawk's eyes only seemed to relay one expression. Looking at the scribbles on the board, McGonagall was at a loss. There was a long squiggle, then perhaps a plus sign, then some kind of wavy bit—it was no good. She couldn't understand what the girl was trying to say.

"One moment, please, Miss Granger," McGonagall implored the bird. She quickly called Filius and Severus and, after a moment's thought, Hagrid. Then they waited in silence, McGonagall trying to figure out what was going on and Hermione fluttering her wings agitatedly. Flitwick was the first to arrive, tumbling through the fireplace and hurrying over. Hagrid banged into the room shortly after, looking wildly about and clearly expecting there to be some sort of trouble.

McGonagall pointed to the hawk. "That is Hermione Granger. She needs—something—but I'm afraid I can't interpret what she's written on the board." The other professors gaped at Hermione, clearly as stunned as McGonagall was herself. "I don't even know what kind of bird she is at present."

"That's a goshawk, that is," Hagrid said, stepping forward and picking her up tenderly. "And a pretty one too, aren't ye?" he muttered, stroking the bird's back. Hermione seemed to relax at this and nipped her beak gently at Hagrid's finger. "Don' worry, Hermione, we'll figure it out," he soothed. Then he looked up at Flitwick and McGonagall. "Won' we?"

"I'm not even sure what's happened," McGonagall admitted. "She flew in here a few minutes ago, got my attention, then tried to tell me something. I just can't read it." She gestured uselessly at the board again.

Flitwick stepped forward and examined the marks. "Maybe if she tried with a quill and her talons?" he suggested.

"Isn't it obvious?" came a disdainful drawl from the doorway. McGonagall spun to see Professor Snape entering her office, his eyes fixed on the hawk and a grim smile on his features. "Miss Granger was playing with things that ought not to be played with, and now she's stuck." The slow way he drew out the word stuck made it seem very sinister.

Flitwick's gasp brought McGonagall back around to the board. The Charms professor was tracing the chalk markings with a finger. "Of course! That's what she's tried to spell here—stuck!"

All three professors now looked at Hermione, and in response, she buried her head beneath her wing.

A/N: So this popped into my head last night...I'm not sure WHY I was thinking about the Animorphs series, but I was, and then this happened. Thus my plot has been inspired by those books and more specifically, Tobias' nothlit status. However, I have no rights to either those books or Harry Potter, /disclaimer.