The Idea of Consequences

by ColdLuigi, The_Plauge_Dragon

Summary:

Things change after the Polyjuice incident. Things just spiral from there...
What do you think would happen when some idiot introduced people who casually reshape reality to monster girls?

Le discord: https://discord.gg/JKbqQ7w

Chapter 1

Harry and Ron were rushing back to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, slipping in the shoes of Crabbe and Goyle.  “Hermione!  Come on out!  The potion’s worn off and we have loads to tell you-”

 

“Go away!” was the response.  Harry and Ron looked at each other in confusion.

 

“Are you alright, Hermione?” Harry asked, worried for his friend.

 

“The potion has worn off, Hermione… did you forget clothes?  You can use mine, if you want,” Ron said, worried for his friend.

 

Just then, Myrtle glided through the stall doors.  She wasn’t cackling with glee, or moping.  She looked pained.  “It isn’t that… it’s worse…” she told them.  Harry opened the door, concerned for his friend.  He paused, his jaw dropping.  Hermione’s breasts had exploded in size. They used to be B-cup. Now, they were double D.  Her robes were straining under the new weight.  Her hips had also widened.  However, these weren’t the main changes.  She was covered in brown fur.  Her eyes were yellow and slitted like a cat.  Two ears perked up from her head.

 

“I- It was cat hair!” she bawled, hugging Harry.  “Bullstrode must have a c-caaat!” she wailed.  Ron looked down, and noticed the tail.  “T-the potion can’t be used for animals either!” she added, sobbing.  Her hands were now furred paws.  Harry was worried about claws.

 

Ron winced.  “That’s really bad, Hermione… really, really bad.  Come on, let’s see if Madam Pomfrey can do anything,” he told her, helping her up.  As they left, Myrtle decided to ask a question.

 

“So, do you think she’ll be able to study for OWLS?”

 

Harry cocked his head, confused.  “We’re second years, Myrtle,” he told her.

 

“B-but you’re 15!” she stammered.

 

“The age of admittance was moved to 14 eleven years ago,” Ron told the ghost, before leaving.  Harry also noticed that Hermione’s ass had also increased in size.

 

*****

 

The trio stumbled into the Hospital Wing.  Madam took one look at Hermione.  “Bed.  Now,” She instructed.  She then turned to Harry.  “You as well.”

 

“M-me?” Harry stammered.

 

“Yes, you!  I’m going to see if I can force a few nutrient potions down your throat!” she growled, moving the curtains to hide the petrified students (and ghost).  “Now then, I can tell you three have been brewing polyjuice potion, judging by Miss Granger.  Care to explain why?”

 

Ron gulped.  “W-we wanted to see if Draco Malfoy was the heir of Slytherin!  He wasn’t but w-we g-got some information, though!” he stammered.

 

“Oh?”

 

The three whipped their heads around, and saw Albus Dumbledore there.

 

“Can you inform us?  I do believe it will be most beneficial,” he said, stroking his beard.  “And do not worry about expulsion.  In fact, brewing Polyjuice is allowed at Hogwarts, under ‘extra credit potions’.

 

Hermione’s ears twitched at ‘extra credit’.

 

“W-well… we know Draco isn’t the Heir of Slytherin… also, his father hid his Dark items in a secret compartment in his drawing room floor!  H-he also said his father told him a little about the first opening… a muggle born died fifty years ago!  He… he…” Ron clenched his fists, furious at what Draco had said.

 

“He said he hoped Hermione died, Professor,” Harry spat.

 

Dumbledore frowned.  “In a time of crisis, we should not be attacking others.  Twenty points from Slytherin.  I shall inform Severus of this development, so as to give Miss Granger her extra credit- unless, of course, you two helped?”  Harry and Ron shook their heads.  “Very well.  I wish you well, Miss Granger.  This type of error shouldn’t damage your ability to consume chocolate, so you have little to fear in that regard.”  With that, Dumbledore walked out of the hospital wing.

 

*****

 

Dumbledore walked into Snape’s personal chambers.  The potions master was busy writing in his notebook.  Dumbledore cleared his throat.  Snape immediately stood up.  “Headmaster,” he said.

 

“Now, now, Severus, there is no need to be formal.  We have a few things to discuss.”  Dumbledore then peered at what Snape was writing.  “Hoping to publish your own potions textbook?”

 

Snape nodded.  “The ones here are written by an incompetant fool!  Half the time, the potions have the wrong ingredients!” he raved.

 

Dumbledore nodded.  “Yes, it is a dreadful reference to the status quo- unless the students are taught from an early age, they cannot pass the OWLS…”  

 

Snape growled at that.  “It’s by design, Albus.  Just like the changing of ages.  While I enjoyed the four years of extra break time, we both know why that was the case- so the pure-bloods could have extra time to learn magic so as to get a leg up on the muggleborns…”

 

“Speaking of muggleborns… Miss Granger has been brewing the polyjuice potion.  It succeeded.  Apparently Mr. Potter and Weasley were infiltrating the Slytherin dorms to see if Mr. Malfoy was the heir.  He was not.”

 

Now, in another universe, Snape would have demanded the expulsion of all three.  In this one, however, he grinned like a maniac.  “That girl will go far in life, blood status be damned!  She’s only a second year and she’s brewing potions that only masters dare to brew!” he exclaimed.  Dumbledore flinched.  “Albus?” Snape asked, worried for his planned apprentice.

 

“She… she had cat hair in her vial…she mistook it for Miss Bulstrode’s hair...” Dumbledore admitted.

 

Snape’s expression turned furious.  “Albus… you better be joking…”  Dumbledore shook his head.  Snape slammed his fist into his nearby desk.  “DAMN IT!” he swore, before looking at Dumbledore.  “You better make sure that she isn’t expelled.  If she is, I swear to you, Albus, that I will take her as an apprentice, career be damned.”

 

Dumbledore nodded.  “She’s not going anywhere… I will make sure of it…”  Snape nodded.

 

“Thank you, Albus.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go talk to Miss Granger,” Snape said, standing up, and leaving.

 

*****

 

Madam Pomfrey went over Hermione’s form.  “So… you accidently used cat hair in polyjuice,” she said.  Hermione nodded.  “I’ll do my best, but I’m fairly certain some features will remain,” she admitted.  “Also, you’ll have some feline instincts as well.  I’m sorry, but that’s the best I can do,” she added.  

 

“You’re not telling her the worst part,” Ron growled.  “She deserves to know.”

 

“T-the worst part?!  What’s worse than this!?”

 

“Not even being considered an intelligent being,” Ron spat.  Hermione froze.

 

“What?” she squeaked.

 

“You thought Malfoy was bad before?  It’s going to be an entirely different level… unless Dumbledore personally intervenes… you’ll be expelled-”

 

Hermione let out a scream of shock.  “B-but he said we didn’t break any rules!”

 

“IT’S NOT ABOUT THE RULES, ALRIGHT!?  IT’S ABOUT THE FUCKING PREDUJICE!” Ron roared, furious.  Madam Pomfrey gave him a glare.  He ignored it.  “The bastards in power won’t even see you as human , Hermione.  They’ll see you as an animal .  Best-case scenario is that Dumbledore intervenes.  The second-best is that you’re expelled, and your parents have their memory erased so that they forget about magic and you- and you’ll live on some reserve,”

 

“T-that’s the second best!?” Hermione whimpered.

 

“The most likely scenario is… that you’re killed.  Your family’s memory is erased.  To them, you will never have existed.  The worst case scenario involves the memory erasing… and you’re some pure-bloods sexpet,” he spat.

 

“T-they can’t do that-” she began.

 

“THEY CAN, AND THEY HAVE!” Ron screamed.  “Charlie saw it happen in Romania!  The girl is nothing but a breeding machine for some pure-blood family in Norway!  Her family was wiped of their memory AFTER the Norwegian ministry laughed in their faces about her fate!”

 

“Memory erasure?” Harry asked.

 

“How do you think the Wizarding Society has hidden itself?  Mind rape.  That’s how,” Ron snarled.

 

Hermione started to break down in tears.  However, there were footsteps.  “You will not be expelled, Miss. Granger.  I will make sure of it.”  Salvation had come from the most unlikely of sources.  Professor Snape had arrived.

 

“P-professor?” Hermione whispered.

 

“Albus informed me of your genius in potions.  He assured me that he would fight on your behalf.  And if you were to be expelled anyways…” Snape smirked.  “I’d take you as my apprentice.  I can’t believe I’m doing this… but 50 points to Sly- G-Gryffindor…” the Potions master choked out, “For successfully brewing a potion that most seventh-years wouldn’t dare to attempt,” he told her.  “Mr. Weasley, I heard your outburst.  Twenty-five Points to Gryffindor.”  With that, the Potions master turned to Harry.  “Mr. Potter… as much as it pains me to say this… I’m putting my trust in you and Weasley here to keep her happy.  She will be attacked by those in my house who cannot see her genius… when it comes to keeping her safe, you have my full permission to do whatever.  It.  May.  Take.”  With that, he swept out of the room.

 

“Did… did that just happen?” ron asked after a moment.

 

“Yes, now out, Mr. Weasley!” Madam Pomfrey demanded, shooing him out.

 

***** 

 

The weeks continued.  When school began again, people wondered if Hermione had been attacked.  When Madam Pomfrey said that no, she hadn’t, Draco had sulked for a while.  Harry and Ron made sure to collect her homework for her.  Her eyes had returned to their normal color, her fur was almost gone, the whiskers were no longer existing, and her hands had returned to normal.  She still had the ears and tail, though, which was bothering her.  “Oh, I hope it’s gone soon!” she groaned, doing her homework.

 

“Honestly, this is actually better than I expected,” Ron admitted.  “In all likelihood, you would’ve most likely kept the fur.”

 

Madam Pomfrey took that moment to appear again.  “Mrs. Granger, I’ve done all that I could to help you, but whatever remains, will remain.  I’m sorry,” she told the second year.

 

“Did… did Dumbledore…”

 

“Dumbledore managed to convince the Board of Governors to allow you to remain at Hogwarts, although I daresay I do not wish to know how.  Now then, you’ll need to go back to your common room.”  With that, the mediwitch helped Hermione out of the bed.  Harry and Ron flanked her, and the three walked out of the room.

 

*****

 

The trio walked to the common room, Hermione’s head hidden.  They didn’t know what exactly the others would do.  After Ron’s explanation a few weeks ago, they were all nervous.  “Alright… I can do this…” Hermione said to herself, walking up to the Fat Lady.  “...What’s the password?” she asked.

 

“It’s still ‘Wattlebird’,” Ron said.  The Fat Lady swung open, and the three walked into the common room.  When they did so, everyone turned to them.  “Alright Hermione, it’s now or never,” Ron told her.  Hermione gulped, and removed her hood, showing the cat ears.

 

Everything stopped.  Someone dropped a glass onto the ground.  Hermione let out a whimper.  Harry and Ron drew their wands, but pointed them at the ground.  However, the signal was crystal clear:  They’d fight anyone who would insult their friend.

 

“Uhhh… Hermione…” Fred began.  Harry and Ron immediately turned towards him.

 

“Think carefully about what you’re about to say,” Ron growled, turning his wand around so a backfiring curse would hit Fred.

 

“Can I pet your ears?” he got out.

 

Hermione blinked once.  “S-sure?” she stammered.  Fred approached, and carefully brought his hand down on the ears, scratching it.  Hermione began to purr for a second, before stopping, blushing in embarrassment.  That broke the ice.  The Gryffindors all started reassuring Hermione that this changed nothing, that she was still her, and things like that.  It made her happy, and when she saw Harry and Ron smiling, she knew that everything would be all right.

 

*****

 

When the morning came, the Griffyndors were all waiting for Hermione.  “We’re not going to let the Snakes bully you, Granger.  Count on that,” Semus declared.

 

“T-thanks…” Hermione stammered, tail twitching.  The entire house walked to the Great Hall, Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the front.  When they arrived, there were some mutterings… until Draco grew a sick grin.

 

“Hey, everyone!  Look!  The Gryffindors are supporting a freak of nature!” he cackled.  Several Sylitherins looked, and started laughing as well.  That got the entire Slytherin table to start howling as well- except for one.  Daphne Greengrass didn’t think much of it.  From the looks of it, the rest of the house were throwing away their dignity.  Well, the Heiress of House Greengrass wasn't going to do that!

 

“Maybe you’ll finally have some use as a cumdump, Granger!” Pansy Parkison screeched.

 

Crabbe and Goyle made groping gestures while grinning stupidly.

 

Hermione felt the tears well in her eyes.  She couldn’t do this.  She couldn’t do this!  She turned to run, but Harry and Ron were there.  They held her in place, and hugged her.  “Hermione… don’t worry.  We’re here for you,” Ron whispered.

 

“We won’t let them hurt you, Hermione,” Harry added.

 

Up in the teacher’s area, Snape was grinding his teeth.  Of all the days for him to be the one in charge!  He wished Minerva, Filus, or even Albus himself were here.  He had to listen to that drivel thrown at the smartest witch of her age… it was like when Lily was called ‘mudblood’ for the first time…

The Griffyndors sat down for breakfast.  Harry and Ron were right next to Hermione.  Whenever someone whispered while pointing at her, they’d glare in their direction.  Most of the students were murmuring quietly.  One, however, wasn’t.

 

“So, Potter, you’re still friends with that animal ?” Draco spat.  Harry tried to ignore him.  “Did she offer to mate with you?  After all, that’s all she’s good for now!” he cackled.  Harry’s fists clenched.  “After all, it makes sense that you’d be drawn to her, Potter!  After all, there’s no difference between breeding with an animal and a filthy mudblood- either it, or your mother!”  Harry began to stand up, reaching for his wand.  He only saw red.  Ron, however, was quicker.

 

Ron saw Harry going for his wand, and almost did the same thing, before he saw Snape.  He had to find a different weapon. Noticing that Seamus, Dean, and a few others were also on the verge of attacking the smug pureblood, he tried to grab their attention before they did something stupid. Ron hoped he had, but he was out of time. His eyes landed on a hot sausage.  He quickly picked it up, and threw it with all his might.  Time seemed to slow down as Draco went from laughing, to shocked, and after the sausage and the hot sauce on it got in his eye, to screaming in pain.

 

Ron was pretty sure he heard one of his brothers yell, “I knew you had it in you, Ronnie-boy!”  Then Seamus lobbed a grapefruit right into the side of Goyle’s head, and everything went mad.

 

Harry and Hermione watched in disbelief as the entirety of Gryffindor House moved to fling every available piece of food at Slytherin, and especially at one Draco Malfoy.  The blonde boy went down under a hail of tarts before his own house could organize a response.  Soon, though, they retaliated with their own ammunition, and a massive food fight began.

 

Ron was pretty sure he saw Hufflepuff join in the assault on the Snakes, while Ravenclaw seemed divided, with most choosing to attack the unprotected Gryffindors, while a small contingent instead opted to help make Malfoy resemble a mutated creature made from breakfast pastries.  After a few moments, Harry had to duck to avoid a poached egg. With a shrug, he joined the battle.   Hermione just watched in stunned disbelief. They were doing this for her?  

 

Meanwhile, a few students tried to stay out of it.  Percy Weasley dodged and weaved through a delicious warzone with a skill born from years living in the same house as Fred and George Weasley, until he reached the teacher’s table.  “Professor, please, do something!” he begged.  

 

Severus Snape calmly patted his mouth with a napkin. “Of course, Prefect,” he replied, “I will deliver the appropriate response.”  The Potions Master regarded the row of eggs next to his plate. They would make for an excellent opening salvo.  He stood, grabbed the first of the runny-yolked objects, and slung it at his target. It crashed into the barely-conscious form of Draco Malfoy with a crack, coating him with a layer of egg on top of everything else already sticking to him.

 

Nobody called Lily Potter a Mudblood in the presence of Severus Snape. “Well, isn’t that ironic?” he mused as he reared back to throw a second egg.

 

Daphne, meanwhile, was trying to figure out what to do. She didn’t really want to fight Gryffindor House, especially when Draco had so openly and stupidly provoked Potter, but if she wasn’t seen doing something, the vicious internal politics of Slytherin could use it against her.  After she nearly got brained by a waffle that some genius had hurled like a Frisbee, Daphne decided that Hufflepuff presented a more opportune target.

 

*****

 

The food fight died down after about two hours.  In the end, the Slytherins were the most heavily damaged, having been double-teamed.  Of all of them, Draco was covered in the most food.  Finally, after a minute of stunned silence, the students turned to Professor Snape.  “Yes, Miss Granger does look like she came from a Hentai, but I will not tolerate any bullying against her.  Are.  We.  CLEAR!?” he shouted, amplifying his voice for the last part.  There was quite a bit of nervous nodding, though the Slytherins looked slightly betrayed.  After all, Snape had been the one to summon a cake storm down upon them.  The Gryffindors were in a state of shock, as were most of the muggleborns.  The purebloods were mostly wondering what hentai even was.

Chapter 2

Chapter by ColdLuigi

Summary:

Discoveries are made all around.

There was still a bit of muttering about Hermione, but it was in the corridors. The professors would come down hard on the bullying if they saw it- none more so than Professor Snape.  On the first double Gryffindor-Slytherin potions class, Snape gave everyone a withering glare.  “I will not tolerate ANY name-calling due to anything other than competency in potions, for that is the only thing that matters in this classroom,” he growled, staring at the Slytherins, who gulped.  When classes were over, Harry, deciding to test his luck, walked up to Snape.

 

“Yes, Potter?” he sneered.

 

“Um… Professor… I’m worried about Hermione… What if the monster attacks her?  I mean… apparently her status in the eyes of the Slytherins is even lower now…”

 

Snape’s sneer vanished.  “She is also the brightest witch of her age…” he said, trailing off.  ‘Like Lilly…’ he thought to himself.  “It would be most likely that the Heir would feel jealousy at her intellect…” Snape grabbed a piece of parchment, and scribbled something down.  “Here.  You, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger have access to the Restricted Section- Asile Z, Bookshelf 9.  You will find whatever you are seeking there.  Do not, under any circumstances, try those spells out- this goes double for Weasley.  He needs to get his wand fixed,” Snape explained, handing Harry the note.

 

“Thank you, sir!” Harry replied, relief written all over his face, before leaving.  When he did, Snape sighed.

 

“Thank you, Albus, for that lecture…” he said to himself.

 

*****

 

(Flashback)

 

“I gave you one year to see if you could put aside your obsession with a dead woman and help a boy like you who needed it. You couldn’t. So stop talking to me about how much he acts like his father. For all his faults, and he had many, James Potter fought evil and died a hero, just like Lily. Now it’s up to us to prove ourselves worthy of their memory.” Dumbldore said to Snape.

 

“Lily died to protect him! What makes him worthy of that?” Snape shot back.

 

“That isn’t your judgement to make, Severus. That was Lily’s, and we both know she would have done it again a thousand times over.” 

 

“But...But...” 

 

“Severus. You have to move on.” 

 

Snape narrowed his eyes at the Headmaster.  “What do you know of moving on?” 

 

That did it.  A dark air filled the entire office.  Snape saw nothing but unbridled FURY in Albus’ eyes.  In that moment, he finally understood why the Dark Lord was so afraid of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and why his orders regarding him were to retreat.  

 

“Severus, sit down. You want to know everything I’ve had to move on from?? Fine, I’ll tell you what I know regarding the need to move on.”

 

On that day, Severus Snape learned the darkest secrets of Albus Dumbledore, and wasn’t able to look at himself in the mirror for a week.

 

(Flashback ends)

 

*****

After classes were over, the three friends headed for the library.  “Lead on, Hermione,” Ron told her.  She blushed, and they walked over to Madam Pince.

 

“M-madam Pince?” Hermione squeaked, ears fearfully back.  The strict librarian looked down at the three teenagers, and scowled.

 

“Yes?  What do you want?”

 

“W-we have a one-day pass to Aisile Z, Bookshelf 9…” Hermione stammered, tail twitching.

 

The librarian gave them a very stern look.  “I need a note- and if you forged it, you are to be expelled.”  Harry shakily gave her the note.

 

“What’s even in there?” Ron whispered.

 

“It’s the most restricted part of the library… only the strictest teacher can give access there… according to ‘Hogwarts, A History’, the unofficial nickname is ‘The Restricted Section of the Restricted Section’,” she explained.

 

“Harry… how in the world did you get Snape to give you permission to go there?!” Ron exclaimed (in a whisper).

 

Madam Pince came back, and handed them their slip.  “You have until dinnertime.  You are not to take the books from their positions.  You are to put them back when you are done.”

 

The three nodded, and set off for the area.  They arrived, and got to work.  Hermione began pouring over dark spells, hoping to see if she could find anything- maybe the heir had used one.  Ron looked over a book describing dark creatures.  Unfortunately, the page with the basilisk was stuck to another, so he didn’t see it.  Harry, however, felt something… there, in the very back, was a pitch-black book.  ‘That one’ his mind seemed to say.  He carefully blew the dust off of the cover.

 

‘The Darkest Powers’ was the title of the book.  He flipped to a random page, and found a long chant.  He pulled out a piece of parchment and began to write it down.  ‘Audi obedientes Per potentiam MAGIA: Adiuro te ad voluntatem meam! Forma accipiatur gratissimum oculis Mihine servietis et quod reliquum est annorum, cum servo meo, et dilectus meus in sempiternum’ he thought.  “Hermione?  Can you translate this?” he asked.

 

Hermione walked over, and looked at it.  “Harry… This is a latin chant.  These spells are incredibly powerful, but incredibly dark.  They have terrible results… does the book state any effects?”

 

Harry looked over the chant again.  “...No, it doesn't…” he admitted.  “It says that the author of the chant was only able to use it once, as well, and was protected by a barrier while he cast it… what does it do?”

 

“I don’t speak latin, Harry.  Keep the parchment close to you.  I’m going to see if there are any potions.”

 

Ron, meanwhile, was looking at charm spells.  ‘Huh… these are… interesting…’ he thought to himself.  ‘Pantiloopogus poopigus?  Sounds like a good prank… degree of effect depends on intent…’  he wrote the incantation and the movements down.  He also found another.  ‘Arcanum sonitus ticking?’

 

Hermione, meanwhile, was looking over other potions.  ‘Bone of the father, unwillingly given…’ she began, writing it down.  ‘Unquenching thirst potion?  Sounds useful… the side effect is a bit nasty, though… probably intentional…’

 

*****

 

When it was dinner time, the three put their books back into place, and headed off to eat.  Hermione filled her plate with fish.  “It just tastes really good to me, now,” she admitted.  Harry and Ron shrugged.  Must’ve been the cat instincts. 

 

*****

 

The weeks came and went, one by one.  There hadn’t been any attacks for a while, so some people were beginning to let down their guard.  However, the mood was still sour.  After a while, Harry found himself walking towards Myrtle’s bathroom with Ron, only to find the ghost trying to glomp him.  She merely passed through him, which was an unpleasant feeling.

 

“Myrtle?  What’s wrong?” Harry asked the sobbing ghost.

 

“I- it’s horrible!  S-someone threw a book at me!” she wailed.  Ron looked sympathetic, and looked behind the ghost.  Sure enough, there was a black book sitting on the floor.  Harry followed Ron’s eyes, and saw it.  Curious, he went to pick it up.  Ron immediately ran over.

 

“Harry… be careful!  There are cursed books!  My dad had to deal with one that burned your eyes out!” he exclaimed.  Harry, for some reason, felt drawn to it.  He gently picked it up from the wet floor.  The date told him that the book was half a century old.  The name on the book was ‘T. M. Riddle’.  Harry showed the title to Ron.

 

“Huh.  I know that name.  He got an award for ‘Services for the School’...” Ron stated.

 

“He did?” Harry asked.

 

“Yeah, when I was coughing up slugs, Filch made me reclean his plaque like fifty times…” Ron groaned.

 

Myrtle looked at the title as well.  “He was a Slytherin when I was a student,” she told the two.  “He was rather charismatic, if I recall,” she added as an afterthought.

 

Harry peeled the wet pages apart.  There was absolutely nothing in it.  “That’s odd… he never wrote in it…” Harry mused.

 

“What’s confusing to me is why someone would want to flush a blank, fifty-year-old diary away, instead of, I don’t know, throwing it in a bin?”

 

*****

 

That night, Harry and Ron showed Hermione the diary.  “Obviously he was a muggleborn or half-blood, since this is a muggle diary… but why would it be blank…?” she asked, trailing off.  Then, her ears perked up, and she snapped her fingers.  “He got an award for services for the school at the same time there were previous attacks!  Maybe he caught the heir!” she exclaimed.  However, when she tried what she had, nothing came up.  “Huh… surely it can’t be empty, right?”

 

“It’s possible he got it for Christmas and never bothered to fill it in,” Ron mused.

 

*****

 

Throughout January and the beginning of February, the mood of the school continued to improve.  To Harry and Ron’s great amusement, Hermione began to lose her fangirl tendencies around Lockhart.  Apparently, his perfume made her nose ache.  “It smells like he’s been rolling around in rotten seaweed!” she had complained.  Speaking of Lockhart, he seemed to think that he had been the one to drive away the monster, whatever it may have been.  The three had ignored his boasting, Hermione wondering why she had ever believed him.  However, they were confused when they heard him mentioning a ‘morale booster’.

 

“Oh please, please don’t have him create a day of celebrations dedicated to himself!  Anything but that!” Ron pleaded.

 

*****

 

“I regret everything,” Ron groaned when the Gryffindors walked into the Great Hall for breakfast the next day.  Their eyes had been assaulted by burning pink.  Pink flowers, pink streamers, even pink glitter!

 

Hermione mewled in agony.  The flowers smelled awful!  Another muggleborn looked at the glitter in sheer loathing.  “Craft Herpes!” he declared, disgusted.

 

Harry looked up to the Teacher’s table, and immediately wished he hadn’t.  Lockhart was wearing the flashiest pink robes Harry had ever seen, and it burned!  The rest of the teachers were looking stone-faced.  McGonagall was downing a goblet of what Harry was pretty sure was Whiskey, while Snape locked eyes with him, and mouthed ‘kill me now’.

 

“I organized this lovely little Valentine's surprise for all of you, and I thank the 46 students who have already sent me Valentines!  Now then, this happy occasion doesn't end here!” he declared, clapping his hands.  On cue, a dozen dwarfs marched in, wearing white wings and carrying golden harps.  They didn’t look happy to be there. “I brought a squad of cupids to aid me!  And the fun doesn't stop there!  They’ll be delivering valentines for everyone!  Also, ask your teachers to aid you on this romantic day!  I have been informed that love potions are banned, but I believe our potions master would be more than willing to create some lovely smelling brews!”  Harry was wondering why Snape was mouthing ‘Avada Kedavra’.  Was that a spell that cured headaches?

 

“If you’re lacking in bed, ask Professor Flitwick for assistance!  I am told he knows a charm or two!”  The charms professor slammed his head into the table.

 

Harry turned to Hermione.  “I assume you weren’t one of the 46,” he mused.

 

“Had my sense of smell not skyrocketed, I would’ve been,” she admitted.

 

*****

 

The dwarves followed their duties barging into classes to deliver valentines, and, from the laughter Harry overheard, booty calls.  The second years only being 15, they didn’t receive those.  That would wait until next year, most likely.  Either way, Harry was glad he hadn’t received one so far.  Of course, by thinking that, he jinxed it.  As he was walking upstairs to charms, one of the dwarves called out to him.

 

“Oi!  You!  You’re Harry Potter, right?  I got a signing valentine for you!” the dwarf called out to him.  Harry immediately turned to run away as fast as he could.  He saw that a group of first years, including Ginny Weasley, were in hearing range.  He definitely didn’t want to deal with that.  The dwarf, however, was able to weave through the crowd.  “Come on, kid!  I wanna go home!” the dwarf complained, latching onto him.  “This is my last delivery today!” the dwarf complained, grabbing his bag.

 

“Let GO!” Harry shouted.

 

“I’ll let go if you stay here, kid!” the dwarf shot back.  Then, there was a loud ripping sound.  Harry’s bag split in two, spilling his things all over the ground.  Had his ink been in a glass jar, it would’ve smashed, and ruined everything.  However, since it was plastic (At Hermione’s suggestion) the force only caused the cork to dislodge itself.  The ink only got on the diary and the surrounding area.  At the commotion, the dwarf tripped Harry.

 

“Listen Kid, this is as embarrassing for you as it is for me.  Now, here it is,” the dwarf grumbled.  He opened the valentine.

 

“His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

His hair is as dark as a blackboard!

I wish he was mind, he’s really devine,

The hero who conquered the Dark Lord!”

 

The dwarf winced when he finished the song.  “See ya, Kid.  And yeah, I’m sorry about your bag,” he added, running away.  Harry, meanwhile, would’ve given all the gold in Gringotts to vanish on the spot.  The observers were beginning to cry with laughter.  Harry tried to join in, but he just couldn’t.  He especially couldn’t when he saw Draco howling with glee.

 

“Oh this is adorable!  The youngest blood traitor sent Potter a valentine!” the heir of the Malfoy family roared.  He then picked up Tom Riddle’s diary.

 

“Oh ho, what’s this?  Is this where you write your naughtly dreams about Granger?” he mocked, before turning to Ron, who was shaking in rage.  “Or is it where you think about defiling Ron’s younger sibling- not that being a blood traitor didn’t defile her already!”

 

Harry expected Ron to punch Malfoy.  However, he did not expect him to open his mouth and not pull up his wand.

 

“You’re one to talk of younger siblings, Malfoy!” he spat.  “After all, how many do you have?  Oh right, ZERO!  That’s what happens when your family tree looks more like a tumbleweed.” Draco dropped the diary into the ink puddle in shock.  Harry quickly went to scoop it up, and to his shock, the diary was completely dry!  He stuffed the diary into his bag, using ‘repairo’ to fix it.  Charms awaited!

 

*****

 

Harry was the first person to his dorm room that night.  Fred and George hadn’t been taunting that song, since they were too busy proclaiming Ron as ‘The Roastmaster’.  Harry was happy they were distracted, personally.  He pulled out a quill, and wrote ‘Hello’ into the diary.  The words disappeared, and then, in completely different writing, a new set appeared.

 

‘Hi.  Who’s this?’ replaced his words.  It was in a rather fancy font.

 

‘My name is Harry Potter.  The Chamber of Secrets has been opened again,’ Harry wrote, getting to the meat of the issue.

 

‘Hello, Harry Potter.  My name is Tom Riddle.  So, you’re dealing with the same troubles I faced while in school?  A pity the one who opened the chamber in my time was merely expelled, not sentenced to Azkaban,’

 

‘Can you tell me who this person is?’ Harry hurriedly wrote.

 

‘Can I show you?’ the diary wrote back.

 

Harry was confused.  Show him?  Shrugging, Harry wrote ‘OK’ into the diary, only for the pages to shudder.  And then, he was swallowed by a vortex of light.

Chapter 3

Chapter by The_Plauge_Dragon

Harry stumbled into a black-and-white world, of which he was the only thing that was colored.  He was standing on a stairwell, next to a boy his age.  “Hello?” Harry asked.  The boy ignored him.  It then occurred to Harry that it was more than likely that he couldn’t be seen or interacted with.  Harry made out the Slytherin crest.  ‘Evidently Tom’s a half-blood,’ Harry thought to himself, since there were no muggle-borns in Slytherin.  ‘How did I know it was Tom?’ was his second thought.  Then, he saw a group of wizards carrying… something down the steps.  Harry then noticed a dangling arm.  He remembered Draco saying that a muggleborn died.  That must’ve been the muggleborn in question.  Tom’s hands clenched the banner.  Evidently he knew her.

 

“Riddle?” an older voice called.

 

Tom turned to the sound of the voice.  “Professor Dumbledore?” he asked.  Harry’s jaw dropped.  Instead of white, his hair was auburn.

 

“Come here, please,” Dumbledore requested.  The fifth year Slytherin obliged.  “It is not wise to go wandering around the castle at night, especially after what has happened today,” the younger Dumbledore told Tom.

 

“I’m sorry, professor.  I… I just had to see if the rumors were true…” Tom answered, sounding like he was choking.  Harry noticed the tear streaks in his eyes.

 

“And they are, Tom.”

 

“E-even the one about the school closing!?  Hogwarts is my home!  I don’t have anywhere else to go-”

 

“Trust me, Tom.  I do not wish it either, but Headmaster Dippet may have little choice, since the latest attack has resulted in a fatality.”

 

Tom seemed to hesitate for a moment.  “Sir… if it all stopped… if the attacker was caught…” Tom stammered out.

 

Dumbledore gave Tom a sideways glance.  “Is there something you wish to tell me, Tom?”  Harry, despite not being the one the glare was directed at, flinched.

 

“No, sir,” Riddle replied, not showing any outward emotion.

 

“Very well, then,” Dumbledore replied.  “Off you go.”

 

Riddle nodded, and left.  Harry followed the Slytherin down quite a few hallways and staircases.  Eventually, they arrived at a door.  Riddle drew his wand.  Behind the door, they both heard someone talking.  “I know, I know, but yer in danger now.  They’ll be lookin for any scary creature, and you’d fit teh bill,'' someone said.

 

Harry recognized that voice immediately.  “Hagrid?”

 

Another, younger voice rang out.  “But Papa…” a young female voice said.

 

Riddle then burst open the door with his wand.  “Good evening, Hagrid,” he said.  The younger (and Harry had a sinking suspicion that Hagrid was in his third year) half-Giant turned, revealing that he was holding someone.  She had black hair in a pink bowtie.  Her black eyes were wide- and there were four of them.  She had a pink dress on, and was clutching her hands together.  However, below the waist, she was all spider.  It was like someone had glued a four year old on top of the largest tarantula Harry had ever seen.

 

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to turn you in,” Riddle explained.  “I’m sure you never meant for it to kill anyone, but monsters don’t make good pets.”

 

“NO!  Aragog never killed anyone!  Look at ‘er!  She’s only a baby!” Hagrid protested.  “Sides, Acroma-” Riddle pointed his wand at Hagrid’s throat.

 

“Stop.  Talking.  You killed the only person who truly cared for me!” Riddle snarled.  “You’ll be expelled at the least.  Hopefully, you’ll go to Azkaban,” Riddle spat.  And then, Harry felt a pull on the back of his head.  Before anything else happened, he found himself sitting back on his chair.

 

“Woah…” he said after a moment.  Ron then walked up to the dorms, and saw Harry there, staring off into space.

 

“Are you alright, mate?” Ron asked.

 

“...Riddle seemed to think that Hagrid opened the chamber,” Harry said after a moment.

 

“I call bullshit,” Ron immediately said.  “However, that’s our best lead.  We’ll have to see where it leads us,” he admitted.

 

*****

 

The days began to pass by.  Hermione and Ron had made him recount the whole affair several times.  After Ron wondered aloud if Hagrid thought about putting a leash on the monster, Harry was stuck with the image of Hagrid putting a toddler leash on that so-called ‘Aragog’.  It wouldn’t leave his head, and would pop up at inopportune moments, such as potions class.

 

“Potter, while Goyle’s attempt was indeed laughable, I highly doubt that was what you were imagining.  Care to share?” Snape asked.  Harry shook his head, his giggling dying down.  The potions master walked away, and went to the front of the class, just in time to stop Crabbe from creating a toxin that would’ve killed everyone in the room.  After class, Ron and Hermione joined him again.

 

“So, should we talk to Hagrid about this?  I’m pretty sure that would prove his innocence,” Hermione suggested.

 

“How would we even do that?  ‘Hello Hagrid, it’s nice to see you.  Tell us, have you been letting something mad and hairy wander around the castle’?” Ron added.

 

“How about we ask him if there’s another attack?” Hermione offered.  Harry and Ron agreed to that.

 

*****

 

As the Easter Holidays came and went, the Second Years had to focus on what classes they’d be taking for the next year.

 

“Why is there a statement here that talks about maternal care?” Hermione asked after a pause.

 

“That’s the entire reason for the increase of the school age, Hermione,” Ron explained.  “After the war against You-Know-Who, the Ministry of Magic passed Educational Degree number 21, which pushed the admittance age from 11 to 14, lowered the age of consent from 17 to 16, increased the age of adulthood to 20, allowed sex in Hogwarts- no teacher can punish it now- and provided funding for maternity care, along with a small daycare in Hogwarts.  The purpose is simply to create more baby wizards, since there has been a population crisis.”

 

Ron then smirked.  “Although, most of the infants that have been born are from half-bloods or muggleborns, since most pure-blood witches and wizards can’t conceive without a fertility potion,” he added.

 

Hermione, in spite of herself, snorted at that, before going back to picking classes.  Before they could finish, they were interrupted by Fred and George.

 

“Hello Brother,” Fred said.

 

“Hello Harry, Hermione,” George continued.

 

“Are you three picking your classes?” the two said at the same time.

 

“Be careful with your choices, and don’t pick too many or too little,” Fred advised.

 

“Too many and people will think you feed on stress.  Too little and you’ll never get anywhere,” George added.

 

“You have to find the middle ground, you see.  We’re able to help,” Fred finished.

 

“Really?” Hermione asked, a little suspicious.

 

“Yeah.  For example, don’t take Muggle Studies.  It’s a lot of extra homework, and you’re a muggleborn.  And no- it’s a lot of fumbling in the dark from a Wizard’s perspective.  Even the teacher has to ask Muggleborn students to help her,” George advised.  Hermione nodded, and crossed it off her list.

 

“Now, Divination isn’t really that good of a subject for you, Hermione.  You see, it’s mostly guesswork and only a little bit of magic.  Trelawny is very good at what she does, but it’s best to ignore anything about people dying.”

 

Hermione crossed Divination off her list as well.  Harry decided to add it to his, as did Ron.

 

“What about Ancient Runes?  Are you going to suggest that I not take it?” Hermione mocked.  Fred and George put their hands over their hearts in mock betrayal.

 

“You wound us, Granger!  We know you’d absolutely love the class, so we would suggest you keep it!” Fred exclaimed.  Hermione circled it, as did Harry.  It sounded interesting.

 

*****

 

The final Quidditch match was approaching.  It would be Gryffindor Vs. Hufflepuff.  To Harry’s surprise, the two teams were willing to share the pitch for practice.  The seeker of the Hufflepuffs was a 5th year by the name of Cedric Diggory.  “Hey, it’s nice to meet you, Harry,” Cedric said, offering his hand.

 

“Y-you too,” Harry stammered.

 

“Hey Cedric, it’s nice to see you here,” Wood told the seeker.  “Also, I’m glad you don’t believe that Harry released whatever the hell attacked people,” he added.

 

“Hey, Parselmouth or no Parselmouth, only an idiot would believe that rubbish,” Cedirc replied, shaking Wood’s hand as well.  “Hey, if we lose next year, you’ll have our support for the Quidditch Cup,” he added.

 

Wood smirked.  “Oh?  What about this year?”

 

Cedric returned the smirk.  “Well, it’ll be resting quite comfortably in Professor Sprout’s office.”

 

“Oh, you’re on,” Wood declared.  “We’ll be coming at you full force!”

 

“We wouldn’t have it any other way, Wood,” Cedric informed the Gryffindor Captain.

 

*****

 

These double practices happened almost every day, so Harry had to do his weekly homework in one night.  At least the Professors were understanding, even Snape.  As Harry and Ron were walking back to the common room, they barged into Neville.  “Harry… I don’t know what’s happened, but you have to see this!” the boy gasped.  Worried, Harry and Ron followed him to their dormitory, and gasped.  The place was completely ransacked!  Harry, acting on a hunch, went to the place where he stored Riddle’s Diary.  It was gone.

 

“Ron… the diary’s gone…” he told his friend.  “Whoever did this was searching for it… but why?”

 

Hermione ran up to the dormitory.  “It had to be a Gryffindor… but why would they take it?  Wasn’t it our only lead?”

 

******

 

A few weeks after the diary had been stolen, the day of the Quidditch match had arrived.  Harry was a little nervous, though.  Diggory smiled at him, and gave him a thumbs up.  That helped his nerves a little.  What didn’t help were the lustful looks Hermione kept getting from the Slytherins.  “Psst, Hermione…” Ron whispered.

 

“Yes, Ron?” Hermione asked.

 

“Uhh… you forgot something…” he told her.  Harry turned, and blushed.  Hermione had obviously forgotten her bra.  

 

“Hermione?  You f-forgot your bra…” Harry got out.  Hermione blushed.  “I knew I forgot something!  I was just thinking about something else and-”

 

Harry suddenly stopped listening.  He heard it.  “Musssst… kill…don’t want to, but have to...why?”

 

“Harry?  You alright, mate?” Ron inquired.

 

“The voice… it’s back…” Harry whispered.  Suddenly, Hermione perked up.  Her ears were straight up.  “THAT’S IT!” she shouted, leaping to her feet.  “I’ll be in the library!” she explained, running off.

 

“Why do you think she’s going to the library?” Ron mused.  Harry shrugged.  He didn’t know what Hermione was thinking.  Either way, the match was fast approaching.  Finally, at 11, they went down to the pitch.  Wood gave his usual speech, and the team set out for the center of the field.  However, they were stopped by Professor McGonnagal, as she was already standing there.

 

“I’m sorry, but the match has been canceled,” she announced through a massive purple megaphone.

 

“What!?” Cedric exclaimed.

 

Wood was even more distraught.  “But Professor- it’s the final… Gryffindor can win the cup… you can’t cancel Quidditch!” he exclaimed, waving his arms around.

 

McGonnagal put down the megaphone.  “Unfortunately I just did,” she told him, before raising it again.  “All students will return to their dormitories immediately!”  She then lowered the megaphone again.  “Potter, Weasley, you two should come with me,” she told them.  Harry was confused.  Did she suspect he had something to do with whatever was going on?

 

She led them to the Hospital Wing.  “There’s been another attack- and it’s a double attack as well,” she told them, showing the results.  Madam Pomfrey was tending to the 6th year Ravenclaw that they’d accidentally mistook as a Slytherin.  But it was who was next to her that made them stop.

 

“Hermione…” Ron gasped.

 

“They were found near the library.  The other girl- Penelope Clearwater- was holding this,” she told them, showing them a mirror.  “Now, let me walk you to the dormitories.  I have to make an announcement there, anyways.”

 

When they arrived, McGonnagal told them the new rules.  Teachers would be escorting the students wherever they went, Curfew was 6 PM, Quidditch was postponed, and all evening activities were canceled.  “To be perfectly honest, we’re all on edge.  If the attacker isn’t caught, the school may have to close,” she admitted, before leaving.  When she did, the murmuring started.

 

“Alright, we’re down a Ravenclaw, a Hufflepuff, two Griffyndors, and the Gryffindor Ghost,” Lee Jordan said aloud.  “Has anyone noticed that the Slytherins are safe?  Or that they’re mostly smirking at us?  Wouldn’t it be easier to just chuck the lot of them out?” he asked.  There were nods of approval.

 

Fred clenched his fist.  “We heard some of them wishing they knew who it was so they could help them ,” he snarled.  George nodded.  Harry and Ron looked at each other.  Apparently it wasn’t only Draco who shared that sentiment.  Harry expected Percy to step in, but he was just staring at nothing.

 

“Clearwater is a Prefect.  He’s in shock,” George explained.

 

Harry was only half-listening at that point.  Hermione was just lying in the hospital wing, completely helpless.  Now, Hogwarts was in danger of closing.  He couldn’t imagine having to go back to the Dursley’s.  “Ron… we have to see Hagrid.”

 

*****

 

That night, the two of them walked out under the invisibility cloak.  Harry had never seen the castle so… oppressive.  The teachers, ghosts, and Prefects were tense, looking out for anything.  Unfortunately, this made the two more nervous, since the invisibility cloak didn’t mask noise.  So, when Ron cursed after tripping only yards from Snape, the potions professor turned to look right at them, before giving a smile.  “It appears it was nothing.  Either way, if it was a student, they’d be caught going out the front doors.  They’d have to take the secret passage two doors down and to the right.  That would lead them outside the castle without anyone noticing,” he said, looking right at them.  Harry and Ron got the hint, and followed the instructions.  Sure enough, they soon found themselves outside the castle, not far from Hagrid’s Hut.

 

“That was…” Ron began, trailing off.

 

“Helpful?” Harry asked.

 

“Terrifying,” Ron corrected him, walking up to Hagrid’s door.  He knocked once, and was met with a crossbow aimed at him.

 

“Oh… hello Ron,” Hagrid said sheepishly, lowering his weapon.  “Come in, come in,” he told them.  Harry and Ron did so.

 

“I woulda made some tea, but I’m not expectin’ friendly company,” he told the two.

 

“I kind of guessed that,” Harry answered, pointing to the crossbow.  Before Harry could say anything else, there was a loud knock on his door.  Looking at each other, Harry and Ron threw the invisibility cloak over themselves, and hid in a corner.  Hagrid grabbed his crossbow, and opened the door.  Harry saw Dumbledore there.

 

“Good evening, Hagrid,” the Headmaster said.  Harry then noticed someone else was there.  Ron gained a shocked expression.  “This is Cornelius Fudge, The Minister of Magic,” Dumbledore added, introducing the two.  Fudge just walked in, not shaking Hagrid’s hand.  He then turned to Hagrid.

 

“There’s been a series of rather unfortunate events, hasn’t there, Hagrid?  A half blood and two Muggleborn students attacked-”

 

“Three,” Dumbledore corrected.  “Miss Granger was attacked, Minister,”

“Yes, yes, of course,” the Minister stated.  “However, I’m worried that, in light of the higher attack, it was prudent to come.”

 

Harry had the impression that the Minister didn’t care about the Muggleborn students.

 

“I have to be seen doing something, after all.  Therefore, in light of Rubeus Hagrid’s record-”

 

“Are you suggesting that Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets and attacked my students, Minister?” Dumbledore softly inquired.  His tone was mild, but with an undercurrent that made his kindly appearance all the more threatening.

 

“I’m sorry, Dumbledore,” Fudge said, clearly not looking at the Headmaster’s face.  “But consider his record.  If it turns out he’s innocent, he’ll be returned to his house after his confinement.”

 

“No!  Not Azkaban!  You can’t take me there!” Hagrid exclaimed.

 

“I’m sorry, but I must,” Fudge explained.

 

“I’m sure there will be a trial, correct?” Dumbledore asked.  Harry wondered why he’d ask something like that.

 

“I’m sorry, Albus, but I don’t think there will be time-”

 

“You mean it wouldn’t be convenient for you or your backers, just like last time,” Dumbledore… growled!?

 

“If you’re referring to him, you’ll know the evidence was ironclad!  There was no need for a trial!”  Before the conversation could continue, there was another knock on the door.  The Minister went to open it, and a tall, blonde man walked through.  It was Lucius Malfoy.  Harry nearly gasped aloud.  What was Draco’s dad doing here?

 

“Ah, Fudge.  You’re here.  And so is Dumbledore.  Good,” the blonde man said, striding into Hagrid’s house.

 

“‘Ey!  Get out of my house!” the groundskeeper roared.

 

“You simpleton!  Do you really think I want to be in… you call this your house?”

 

Harry wondered if Snape’s Headache-away spell would make Lucius go away.

 

“Two muggleborn students, and, more alarmingly, a half-blood, have been attacked, Albus,” Mr. Malfoy explained.

 

“Unless you cannot count, Lucius, the number of victims is four,” Dumbledore supplied in a helpful tone.

 

“Really?  You think Miss Granger is a human?  See, Minister?  Further proof that Professor Dumbledore has lost his mind,” Lucius supplied.

 

Harry and Ron looked at each other.  Ron mouthed ‘This is normal’.

Fudge nodded.  “He tried to correct me as well.  However, sane or not, he’s still the Headmaster,” the Minister replied.

 

“Well, thankfully, you’re wrong there.  I have with me an order of suspension.  You’ll find all twelve signatures on it.”

 

“Yeh… yeh can’t be serious!  Minister, he had to ‘ave threatened the rest o’ the governors!  If Dumbledore leaves, the muggleborns won’ stand a chance!” Hagrid protested.

 

Fudge looked at Hagrid like he was stupid, before turning to Lucius, who handed him the order of suspension.  “Well, I see the signatures on it.  Very well Dumbledore, it appears you are suspended.”

 

“Very well, but do be warned- both of you.  Any attempt to remove students from the school for their appearance or blood will be met with my… fervent disapproval.”  With that, Dumbledore left.  Hagrid was taken with the Minister and Lucius.

 

“Yeh know… if anyone wanted to know wha’ was going on, all they’d have to do is follow the spiders,” Hagrid said aloud, before he was escorted out.  Fang began to bark mournfully.  Harry and Ron pulled off the invisibility cloak.

 

“Hagrid’s right… with Dumbledore gone, the attacks are going to skyrocket…” Ron said aloud.

Chapter 4

Chapter by The_Plauge_Dragon

If Harry thought the mood was oppressive before, it was downright Orwellian now.  The teachers were looking every which way, and unless you had a teacher’s pass, you couldn’t visit the petrified students.  Madam Pomfrey was worried that whoever did this would come to finish them off- or someone would draw on them.  Apparently a fourth year Slytherin had written ‘cumslut’ on Hermione’s chest, and was now in the Hospital Wing due to being beaten to a bloody pulp by a Hufflepuff who had been visiting Justin.  There was little laughter, and what was there was forced.  Even some of the Slytherins were nervous- it was evident that half bloods were now also in the crosshairs.  Harry and Ron kept looking for spiders, but it appeared that they had all left the castle.  Additionally, they couldn’t wander since they were herded to their next class by teachers.  The teachers also had their wands out, and twitched at the slightest noise.  Harry and Ron found it irksome, but the rest of the students seemed safer.

 

However, not every student was terrified.  Draco Malfoy was strutting around like he owned the castle, his head in the air.  He’d laugh cruelly at any worried looks, and sneer at anyone who crossed his path.  Harry didn’t find out why Draco was acting worse than usual until a potions class two weeks after Hermione was petrified.

 

“I always thought Father would be the one to finally get rid of Dumbledore,” he told Crabbe and Goyle.  “He always said that he was the worst Headmaster the school has ever had.  Maybe now the governors will appoint a new Headmaster, a proper one!  Hopefully the new one will want to keep the Chamber of Secrets open as well…” he fantasized, smiling at the thought.  Snape was walking by, so Harry couldn’t risk attacking Malfoy for that.  

 

“Father could get in touch with some old friends- maybe the Carrow twins could share the job,” Draco mused.  Snape was still standing nearby.  “Honestly, it’s amazing that the mudbloods haven’t packed their bags by now.  Hey!  Weasley!  I’ll bet your entire family’s vault- five galleons- that the next mudblood dies!” he mocked.  Ron’s ears went red.

 

“Don’t,” Harry whispered.

 

“You know, it’s a pity Granger didn’t.  Being a mudblood wasn’t bad enough for her… now she’s a half-breed,” he spat.

 

Now Harry was wishing Snape would turn his back.

 

Draco turned to Pansy Parkison.  “You know, I think I figured out how Granger was getting her good grades,” he told her.

 

“Oh?” Pansy asked.

 

“Yeah.  I bet she’s been spreading her legs for those Os.”

 

Now Harry and Ron were reaching for their wands.

 

“And, get this, Father told me that Potter’s mother was bright like that as well, and, admittedly, decently good looking.”

 

Now Snape visibly twitched, although only Harry saw it.

 

“I bet she is Granger’s role model- a filthy mudblood slut, spreading her legs for anyone for a shred of status!”  Crabe, Goyle, and Pansy burst out laughing.

 

Harry was now ready to leap from his seat and drown Draco in his cauldron.  However, before he could, Snape whirled around on Draco, with his eyes blazing with fury.  Harry had never seen the professor so furious- and that was saying something.  For him, time seemed to stand still.  And then, as if in slow motion, Snape’s right hand curled into a fist, and just as Draco was turning to him, Snape’s fist hit him square in the jaw in the best example of a right hook Harry had ever seen.  Draco was knocked back, his chair pushed back five inches.

 

“Fifty.  Points.  From.  Slytherin,” Snape snarled, eyes burning with fury.

 

There was stunned silence.  The Gryffindors were looking at each other in what could only be described as naked awe.  Draco looked at Snape in what could only be described as betrayal.

 

“We’re done here.  Now, I will escort you all to Herbology,” he growled, not looking at anyone.  Harry and Ron only managed to pick up their jaws when they were halfway there.

 

“Did… did that just happen?” Ron whispered to Harry.

 

“I… I think so?” Harry replied, confused.

 

The class soon reached Herbology.  The Gryffindors split from the Slytherins, and they met up with the Hufflepuffs.  The class was even more subdued then potions were, due to them missing two students.  They were soon put to work in pruning the Abyssinian Shrivelfigs.  As Harry removed some weeds, he found himself staring at Ernie Macmillina.  “Hey Harry… I just… I just want you to know I’m sorry I ever suspected you.  I know you’d never lay a finger on Hermione, and… well… we’re all in the same boat now… do you have any idea who it could be?”

 

“None,” Harry replied truthfully, before he saw something.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a group of spiders.  They were moving in an unnaturally straight line.  “Ron, look,” he whispered.  His friend turned, and saw what was going on.

 

“W-well… there they are,” he whimpered.  Harry nodded, and traced the direction they were going with his fingers.

 

“They’re going into the Forbidden Forest,” he told his friend.  Ron gulped heavily at that.  “We’ll have to go tonight.”  Ron looked like he was about to faint, but nodded.

 

*****

 

That night, Harry and Ron got out the invisibility cloak, and went down the passage Snape had told them about.  They reached Hagrid’s hut without much difficulty, and opened the door.  As was normal for large dogs, Fang began to make happy barking sounds when he had company he knew over.  Harry and Ron were almost certain that the barks would wake up the entire castle, so Harry grabbed some treacle toffee that Hagrid had made before he was taken away, and fed it to Fang.  The sticky cooking glued his teeth together without much trouble.  “All right, Fang.  We’re going for a walk,” Harry told the dog.  Fang perked up at the word ‘walk’ and wagged his tail happily.  The three then left the hut.  “Lumos!” Harry whispered, light pouring from his wand.

 

“I’d light mine up as well, but it would probably explode,” Ron sadly told his friend.  

 

Harry shrugged.  “Ron, it’s not like you’re that accident-prone,” Harry comforted his first friend.

 

Ron shrugged.  “I guess… and after all, even if I was, it’s not like any accidents I cause are serious,” he added, feeling better.  Just then, he froze.  Harry caught sight of two small spiders scurrying away.  Ron shivered, and then steeled himself.  “Alright… I’m ready.  Let’s go,” he said.  Harry nodded, and they walked off into the forest.  “There’s nothing good that can come of this…” Ron muttered.

 

*****

 

The three followed the spiders for what felt like hours.  They had to keep them in the light of Harry’s wand, as everything outside of that was pitch black.  Harry noted that he’d never been this deep into the forest before.  They also had to walk more slowly, as the trees kept getting thicker and thicker.  Harry could feel Fang’s breath on his hands.  Occasionally he’d pet the dog, which calmed him.  Suddenly, Fang began to growl.  “Fang?” Harry asked, looking around.  Then, Ron let out a soundless shriek of fear.  Harry turned around, only to be caught in the pincers of a massive spider.  From the light, Harry could see two other giant spiders grabbing onto Ron and Fang.  They were then picked up, and carried… somewhere, before they were dropped on the ground unceremoniously. 

 

“Of course it had to be fucking spiders,” Ron thought as he and Harry were dumped into a clearing covered entirely with thick, dense webbing.

 

Scrambling to their feet, the two saw rows of elephant-sized spiders ringing the clearing, drumming their feet on the ground in terrifying unison.  There was a massive cave on the far side of the clearing. Ron put himself between it and his friend.

 

“Listen, Harry,” he began, drawing his broken wand, “whatever’s gonna come out of there, we both know it isn’t gonna be good. If I say run, you run, okay?”

 

Harry drew his own wand in response. He snapped, “Ron, there’s no chance in hell I’m letting you stay behind, don’t even suggest it!”

 

“Listen, you’re not going to die here, alright? Of the two of us, I’m expendable,” Ron told him. 

 

Expendable. Ron had always known what he was, and he’d never really had a problem with it. The youngest son in a family of six sons, a blood traitor in a world of haughty purebloods, the other sidekick to the Boy Who Lived, the one who wasn’t brilliant. Pure chance had put him on the same train car as Harry; he knew that well.

It was better than having responsibilities, he’d always figured. It left him free to take risks, make the plays that others couldn’t. When it came down to it, Ron had never minded being the sacrifice. He’d done it in first year, to give his friends a chance to stop the resurrection of Voldemort in that gauntlet.

 

He’d do it again against a horde of fucking massive spiders if he had to, to get Harry Potter out of here.  Harry opened his mouth to respond, to show off the loyalty and heroism that Lockhart could only dream of, but they were cut off by a hiss from a thousand mandibles.

 

“Aragog! Aragog!” the spiders chanted, as though summoning something.

 

Finally, a truly enormous spider left the cave. Its legs unfolded like origami, spreading out across the clearing as its beady eyes focused on the two wizards standing back-to-back on the opposite side of the clearing.  Ron raised his wand, hoping that the spell wouldn’t fucking backfire again.  Then, the spider spoke, and Ron knew that he must be having a nightmare again.

 

“Who are you?” it asked, its humming mandibles somehow producing human speech, “are you fresh meat?”  Oh hell no, Ron was not going to be a late night snack for a spider the size of a small country home.

 

“Who are you?” Ron retorted. Okay, maybe not his best comeback.

 

The spider’s eyes focused on him alone, ignoring Harry. Good.  “I...am Aragog,” it-no, she, that was definitely a woman’s voice-answered, seeming almost puzzled.

 

“I’m Ron Weasley, and this is Harry Potter,” Ron told her, hoping that this was the kind of monster that appreciated politeness, like hippogriffs.

 

“ Weasssley…” Aragog repeated, as though testing out the sound, “is too hard. You will be Fire-hair. Why have you come, Fire-hair?”

 

You know what? Ron wasn’t going to argue about his name with a giant fucking spider that could talk. Maybe this was a good sign! Ron certainly didn’t name his food before he ate it, maybe she was the same?  He replied, “Hagrid sent us. We want to ask you about the monster that supposedly attacked a student back when he raised you in the castle.”

 

Suddenly, Aragog reared back, crashing back down with a thud. “Father sent you?” she asked, almost... eagerly?

 

Ron said, “Yeah, he did. So...maybe don’t eat us?”

 

“Where is Father?” Aragog demanded, “he hasn’t come to visit lately!”

 

Ron hesitated; somewhere behind him, Harry winced. At last, Ron said, “He...was falsely accused, just like when you lived in the castle with him. Whatever attacked students back then, it’s doing it again, and people are scared. We want to prove him innocent.”

 

“Ah,” Aragog said, “I see. I...Forgive me, it has been some time since I last spoke to a human. Give me a moment.”

 

Suddenly, the spider’s form blurred and shrank, morphing so quickly Ron’s eyes hurt just watching it. When Aragog was done, Ron realized that she had turned into the form Harry had described from the diary’s vision, a drider with the lower body of a massive spider (though much smaller than her fully spider form) and the top half of a woman.  There was one small difference from Harry’s description, though. The bow-haired toddler from the diary had... grown up.

 

Ron gulped as he stared into the four pure-black eyes of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her human body began just below her waist, shining white skin melting into dark fuzz the same color as the silky black hair that fell like a waterfall down her back. The only clothing she wore was a band of silk that barely held her enormous, perfectly formed breasts in place. Her face was equally pale, with full red lips, round cheeks, and a high brow. She looked regal, like a queen from an old fairytale.  “So, Fire-hair,” Aragog began, “give me a reason why I should not kill you.”

 

Ron could think of several reasons, thank you very much.  As Harry spluttered behind him, Ron said, “Wait, we just said we’re friends of Hagrid! Isn’t that enough?”

 

“That is enough for me to consider not killing you,” Aragog replied, “but one does not wander into the realm of the Acromantula lightly.”

 

“Why do you want to kill us?” Ron asked her.

 

“My children are hungry, and fresh meat does not come very often,” Aragog told him, gesturing to the uneasy, shuffling crowds of huge spiders around the edge of the clearing.

 

Right, that made sense. Now, back to stalling.

“Acromantula?” Is that what you are?” Ron asked, mostly playing for time to get Harry to edge towards the outside of the clearing.

 

Aragog nodded as she replied, “Indeed. We were created many centuries ago, apparently, by a Dark wizard who desired companionship as well as an army.”

 

“And apparently had a spider fetish,” Ron surmised, “god, I wish I could meet that fucker and turn his balls into turnips.”

Alright, back to convincing the giant fucking spider lady to not kill them.  “Why did you call Hagrid Father?”  he asked Aragog, who thankfully seemed more than willing to indulge his curiosity.

 

“He raised me,” Aragog replied, “and when I was falsely accused of attacking students, he helped me escape into this forest. Later, when I was of a...certain age, he introduced me to my wife.”

 

“You know what? The least weird part of the sentence “Lesbian spider-woman who wants to feed me to her spider-babies” is the lesbian part,” Ron decided.  He said, “I see. So, you didn’t attack those students?”

 

Aragog looked indignant. “Of course not!” she huffed, “I was the equivalent of a human four-year-old! I couldn’t have hurt them if I wanted to! For the record, I did want to, they were mean to Father, but he convinced me not to.”

 

Ron felt himself settling into a rhythm with her now. This was no longer threats, this was a conversation, a negotiation.

And Ron lived in a house with five older brothers and Molly Weasley. He was an expert at convincing people he wasn’t worth the trouble.

“So if you didn’t attack those students, who did?” he wondered, “if we could figure that out, we could bring Hagrid back and clear his name.”

 

Aragog looked thoughtful as she said, “I suppose so. Unfortunately, I cannot tell you. She is too terrible and fearsome to ever be defeated by the likes of you, Fire-hair.”

 

“Great, a female monster even other monsters are scared of,” Ron thought to himself, “because my life isn’t shitty enough.”

 

“Why can’t you tell us?” he asked.

 

“Because, I am afraid to,” Aragog responded, “the one controlling her...knows about me, and would certainly attack if I ever revealed what I know. And I must protect my children and my wife above all else.”

 

Ron...could respect that. He replied, “I understand. But my friend is lying in a hospital bed because she got attacked by that monster. Please, if you can help us, we promise we won’t tell anyone how we know.”

 

“It does not matter,” Aragog said, “he will find out anyway. He is the most powerful wizard I have ever seen.”

 

Okay, that wasn’t good.  Well, time for Ron’s other skill: bluffing.  “Are you sure?” Ron challenged.

 

“Am I sure of what?” Aragog said, confused.

 

“That whoever you’re talking about is the greatest wizard you’ve ever seen?” Ron said, “after all, Harry’s right here!”  Harry jumped as Ron gestured to him, with a sort of presenting jazz-hands gesture.

 

“Um, Ron, what are you talking abou-“ Harry began, only to get cut off by Ron’s “don’t-screw-this-up” glare.

 

“What are you talking about, Fire-hair?” Aragog demanded.

 

“Harry here is the most powerful wizard of his generation!” Ron said, hoping that he was being convincing, “he took on Voldemort himself when he was just a baby! Blew the bastard up and everything!”

 

There was a chittering rustle among the spiders; Aragog’s eyes suddenly narrowed as though she was suddenly interested.  “Voldemort, you say? You defeated Voldemort?” Aragog asked, her voice intrigued.

 

With a glare from Ron, Harry nodded and said, “Uh, y-yeah! I did!”

 

“Twice!” Ron added, “Harry here beat him again last year, just for good measure!”  Aragog thought for a minute; Ron and Harry could only sit and wait for her decision.  Then, there was an interruption. Another spider, smaller than Aragog, raced down the slope into the clearing, blurring into drider form as she headed for her...mother?

 

Ron saw that the young woman, the spitting image of Aragog minus roughly three decades-and she was young , not much older-looking than Ron or Harry-was now chittering excitedly to Aragog, in a strange language neither of the wizards could hope to follow. They could only try to guess what was going on from the gestures the two spider-women made.

 

Aragog pointed at Harry and said something that made her daughter shake her head. The daughter pointed to Ron, and chittered again, saying something that finally made Aragog nod slowly. Once her mother had done that, the younger spider-woman-thing (Ron was having trouble keeping track at this point) started jumping up and down with excitement, a very strange spectacle when she had eight spider legs bouncing her entire torso off the ground.

At last, Aragog turned back to the duo, her daughter by her side.

 

“Very well, Fire-hair,” she intoned, “you have convinced me. I shall let you live, and give you what help I can. I do, however, have one request.”

 

Ron felt like joining Aragog’s daughter in prancing with glee. They weren’t out of the woods yet, though, so Ron got control of himself once more. Coughing, he said, “Of course, Aragog. What’s your request?”

 

Aragog gestured to her daughter, who stood with visibly pent-up excitement.

 

“This is my 127th daughter, Ariana,” Aragog explained, “she is approaching the time when Acromantula females must set out on their own. It is a tradition, Fire-hair, for Acromantula to seek out strength to add to their own line. You have shown...perhaps not great wisdom in coming here, but great bravery, certainly, and great strength in your words to me. Would you join your strength to ours?”

 

Ron had only very rough knowledge of Acromantula culture, but he was fairly sure that Aragog was just asking for a way to ensure equal honor for both sides. Helping her daughter set up somewhere new in exchange for her help with the monster? That seemed like a fair deal.

Ron nodded. “I accept,” he said seriously.

 

Aragog smiled and announced, “Then it is done! Go, my daughter, and enjoy your future. Fire-hair, Ariana has been given the information I know on what haunts your castle. Once you fulfill the bond, she will be able to help you. I look forward to meeting my grandchildren! Now, I suggest you leave before my other children get… jealous.”

Aragog winked at them, hugged her daughter, then waved them off.

 

Ron figured that leaving now was a good idea, and as Ariana stepped forward to join them, he and Harry turned to leave.  Then, Aragog’s words sank in, and Ron froze as he remembered the rest of what he knew about Acromantula culture.  The tradition Aragog had mentioned was marrying into strong families. And her words... fulfilling the bond? Grandchildren?

Ron had a bad feeling about this.

 

As they left the clearing, Ron turned to Ariana, trying to ignore the way she scuttled along the ground with spider legs yet hummed and smiled like a human.

 

“So, uh, Ariana, huh? I didn’t know Acromantula gave their kids human names,” Ron said conversationally.

 

Ariana smiled as she replied, “Well, actually, my name is-“  She let out a long string of chittering noises that Ron couldn’t understand; it sounded like someone dumping dried rice into a bowl.

At last, she finished, “-but you can call me Ari!”

 

Ron nodded. “So, Ari,” he asked, “forgive me if I’m wrong, but did I just agree to what I think I agreed to?”

 

Harry was watching them with concern, unable to follow without the knowledge of Acromantula culture.  Ari nodded. “Yep!” she confirmed, “you’re my husband now!”

 

Harry let out a strange sound of disbelief; Ron just put his head in his hands.  “Yeah,” he said weakly, “that’s what I thought.”

 

“Oh, by the way, nice bluff with the superstrong wizard thing! I don’t think my mom noticed, but I thought it was super brave of you!” Ari added, leaning forward to kiss Ron on the cheek.  He couldn’t help but blush, both from her words, and from the fact that a gorgeous woman his age was complimenting him and kissing him. Oh, and she was basically naked from the waist up, and maybe also his wife?

 

This shit was too confusing for Ron to process right now. He reminded himself, “She is a spider, you stupid, stupid idiot. You hate spiders. You are not attracted to this spider girl. You are not.”

“Can you turn any more...human?” he asked, trying not to sound too desperate.

 

Ari giggled. “Of course I can!” she replied, “how else are we going to mate?”  Ron really didn’t like the sound of that.  He tried to distract himself by watching her lower body blur and take the shape of human legs.  Very attractive legs.

 

Her appearance now fully human except for her four pitch-black eyes and barely-visible mandibles inside her mouth, Ari was a bit shorter than Ron, with pale white skin, the same regal face and jet-black hair as her mother, and absolutely perfect curves, without a speck of stray fat anywhere.   Oh, and she was also naked, which meant those curves were now seared into Ron’s brain.

 

Blushing, he covered his eyes, as did Harry. Ari just giggled again at them, though she started shivering from the cold pretty quickly. Thinking fast, Ron conjured up a blanket (thank god his wand didn’t fuck up somehow and make this whole situation even weirder than it already was) and wrapped it around Ari, who smiled gratefully.

They began to make their way back to the castle in silence, save for Ari’s sighs every time she leaned against him for warmth and Harry’s muffled snorts of hysterical laughter at the whole damn thing. Ron felt tempted to join him, but he also didn’t want to upset Ari. It’s not like this was her fault, and besides, they really needed the information she had.

 

He couldn’t help but regret his brief attack of heroism, though.  Ron, the greatest arachnophobe to ever attend Hogwarts, had just managed to marry himself off to a fucking spider girl.

Excellent. Absolutely bloody excellent.

Chapter 5

Chapter by ColdLuigi

Summary:

Being Ron Weasley is suffering.

“I’m sorry,” Harry interrupted, “what? I have no idea what’s going on here.”

 

Ron was almost grateful for his friend’s question-it distracted him from wanting to scream at the top of his lungs. He and Ari exchanged a glance, silently debating on who would explain their new situation to the Muggle-raised boy. Ron didn’t like the fact that he could already understand her facial expressions so well.

 

Finally, Ron shrugged and said, “You do it, you know more than I do.”

 

Ari nodded, turning to Harry as they entered the castle grounds. She began, “Like my mom said, Acromantula have a tradition of marrying strong bloodlines to increase their magical power and our own.”

 

“And she decided that Ron’s bloodline was strong enough?” Harry asked, in a tone that Ron wasn’t sure if he should feel vindicated or insulted by.

 

“Actually, I did,” Ari corrected him. Harry and Ron stared at her in disbelief.  Ari just snickered at their confusion, a very strange noise to make when her buzzing fangs added a slight hum to her musical voice. She explained, “Acromantula women naturally start looking for a suitable mate once they hit breeding age. I reached it...oh, a few months ago, and ever since, I’ve been doing everything I can to find a nice, fertile man. When Ronnie stood up to my mom and convinced her not to eat you, I knew you were the one. So I went down to her and asked for her blessing.”

 

“Please don’t call me Ronnie,” Ron protested weakly. Ari just smiled at him, and he felt his anger drain away in spite of himself.   He tried not to think about the words “breeding age” and “fertile man.”  He was already freaking out enough without adding horny spider-wives who wanted his babies to the mix.

 

Harry still looked confused. He asked, “Hang on, so you’re actually saying you’re his wife now? Just from that? Shouldn’t there be...I don’t know, a ceremony or something?”

 

Ari shook her head, while Ron just sighed. She answered, “Acromantula like me don’t care much about ceremonies and pomp like that. For us, it’s thoughts and actions that matter. If two people agree that they’re married and say so, then they’re married. We leave decisions like that up to them, and up to magic. Marriage like this creates a… bond, basically, between Ron’s magic and mine. That’s what defines marriage for sentient magical creatures like me. Ron and I share that bond now.”  Harry looked questioningly at Ron, who nodded.

 

“She’s right,” he added quietly, “I can already feel it forming.”  He was telling the truth; whenever he looked at Ari, he could feel his magic sing, as though she was home, a place both familiar and comforting.  She smiled reassuringly at Ron, clearly feeling the same. It wouldn’t reach the level of telepathy, he knew that, but it would make them sensitive to each other’s emotions, and magic itself would always keep them together.

 

“Can you break it or something?” Harry asked, trying not to sound like he was suggesting that they should.  Ron and Ari shook their heads in unison.

 

Drawing on countless lessons from his childhood, Ron explained, “That’s a bad idea, Harry. It’s something every witch and wizard learns as soon as they start showing magical ability: Never, ever, try to fight your magic. Now that I’ve formed a bond like this, my magic itself is linked with her. If I try to break it...well, it might work, at the cost of my magic, my sanity, or my life. It might kill her, too.”  Ari flinched a little, unconsciously. Ron had to fight the urge to put a reassuring arm around her shoulders.

 

Harry whistled. “Damn,” he said, “that’s... bad.”

 

Ron huffed, “Yeah. Trust me, I’m not exactly thrilled about this, but I’m not about to break it, either. Besides, if I’m guessing correctly...Ari, does your mom still play by the old rules?”

 

Ari nodded. “Yes,” she confirmed, “you are blood of her blood, and will be treated as such.”

 

Harry asked, “What does that mean?”

 

“Acromantulas work off a feudal system, Harry,” Ron answered, “Marriage is an alliance as much as anything else, and you link the families together when you do it. Which means…I’m technically spider royalty now, I guess?”

 

Ari agreed, “Yeah, you are. Mom is the last Acromantula Queen left in Britain, and while I’m not her heir…”

 

“I’ve just formed an alliance with a race of immensely powerful magical beings, which could be super useful in the future,” Ron finished. He tried to ignore how he and Ari were already speaking in unison, building off of each other to form a greater whole.

 

Harry was thoughtful for a moment. Eventually, he said, “Alright, that...well, it doesn’t make sense, but I get it, I suppose. I’d imagine you have a lot to figure out, huh?”

 

“Yeah,” Ron replied, looking meaningfully at Ari, “I think we’re going to need to have a talk about this soon. Figuring out how sleeping is going to work is probably our first priority, especially since I don’t think the bond will be happy if we’re separated for too long.”  Ari looked at Ron with an expression that might have been a suggestive wink, although it was a little hard to tell when she had four pitch-black eyes.

 

Harry’s eyes went wide as a thought crossed his mind. “Oh god, how are we supposed to explain this to McGonagall?” he asked, “or the rest of the House?”

 

“I don’t know,” Ron said, “I’m honestly more scared of Fred and George’s reaction than I am of the Slytherins. ”

 

“Who are...Fred and George?” Ari asked as Harry froze in fear at the thought of the snakes’ reaction to another inhuman member of the school.

 

“My older brothers,” Ron answered, “And the most brutal pranksters in Hogwarts history. They’re going to tear me a new one, I know it already.”

 

Ari didn’t seem particularly bothered by that. Instead, she asked, “Are they cute like you? I have a few sisters who are still looking for mates…” 

 

Ron decided to ignore the “cute” part of her question for now. Instead, he begged, “For the love of all that is holy, do not try to set my brothers up with Acromantula.”

 

Ari giggled, and Ron tried desperately not to enjoy the happy, melodic tones of her voice, or the way she pressed against his shoulder as Harry finally slung the invisibility cloak back over them for the final leg of their journey.  “You are not crushing on the sexy spider-girl who is also your wife,” he told himself.  Ron was good at lying to himself.

 

*****

 

Compared to the outbound trip, the trek back up to the Gryffindor common room was uneventful. Ron and Harry silently agreed to ask Ari about the monster tomorrow; enough had happened for today, and they didn’t want her to be any more overwhelmed. As it was, she wanted to rush around the empty room and touch everything, having never been outside the Forbidden Forest before. 

 

Eventually, though, Ron and Harry managed to coax her up the stairs with them, still trying to cover their eyes whenever she got too excited and started to fling the blanket off of her. 

When they reached their floor, Ron and Harry looked at each other, while Ari rushed over to Ron’s bed and promptly yanked back the curtains, hopping in with a “Wheeee!”

 

Ron asked, “Wait, why is my bed so much bigger on the inside now?”

 

Harry shrugged. “Maybe Hogwarts recognizes you’re married now, so it adjusted to compensate?” he mused as Ari continued to rub her cheek against the soft blankets.

 

“But why?” Ron complained, “Couldn’t it just...I don’t know, give Ari her own bed or something?”

 

“Gotta keep those pureblood numbers up somehow,” Harry cracked, and then they were both laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

 

At last, they calmed down again, and Harry said, “Hey, by the way...that was incredible, what you did back there. Thank you.”

 

Equally seriously, Ron told him, “It wasn’t that big a deal, Harry. I was terrified the whole time. You don’t have to thank me.”

 

Harry snorted and replied, “You stood up to a gigantic talking spider with a broken wand and talked her into helping us. That’s a pretty big deal, I’d say. And of course you were terrified! That just makes it more badass, I’d say.”

 

Ron rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I, ah, I don’t know about that…” he muttered, “I’ve been about ten seconds from passing out ever since we got dumped in that clearing.”

 

Harry told him, “No, Ron. It was incredible. Now, then, I’m fucking wiped. You can go pass out now that you’re with your wife, Your Majesty.”

 

Ron wasn’t sure what part of that last sentence he hated more, but he obliged anyway, crossing over to where Ari had managed to roll herself into a blanket burrito, with only the top of her head poking out to stare at the world with wide, adorable eyes.

 

He closed the curtains, and the world fell silent. He turned to help gently unravel Ari from the blankets, doing his best to ignore the fact that she was still completely naked. Ron managed to get himself under the redistributed blankets with minimal difficulty, but he had one last thing to do.  “In the morning, we need to talk,” he told Ari, who lay next to him, her head on a pillow for the first time in her life.

 

She looked back at him with round, sleepy eyes. Yawning, she agreed, “Yeah. For what it’s worth...I’m sorry I did this to you.”

 

“Don’t apologize, it’s fine,” Ron assured her.

 

He found that it was the truth. For all that his life had changed today, he couldn’t find it in him to be mad about it.   He was one step closer to helping Hermione, he’d maybe made an alliance with an Acromantula Queen, and he’d discovered something about himself, out there in the woods with a monster in front of him and a friend behind.

 

Ron had always been willing to make the sacrifice play, but he trusted his friends to do everything possible to keep that from being necessary.

 

With that thought in mind, he finally let himself pass out. What could he say? He’d seen enough spiders for a lifetime, even if his life would have considerably more spiders in it now.

As soon as his unconscious form hit the pillow, Ari snuggled up to him, basking in his warmth.

She’d been scared at first, leaving everything she’d ever known on a gut feeling that this fire-headed boy was the one for her. But now, she was certain that he was.  She just hoped he would let her stay.

 

*****

 

The next morning, Ron had forgotten all about the events of the night for a blissful moment as he woke up.  Then, he heard a sigh, and looked down to see Ari slotted neatly against his side, her head resting on his chest. 

 

He realized with a jolt that the bond must have finished forming overnight; just looking at her gave his chest a tender warmth he’d never felt before, filling the air with the sensation of joyous magic. Still acting in a sleepy haze where he couldn’t think better of it, Ron reached out to gently mesh his fingers into Ari’s long, straight hair. He marveled at how soft and silky it was, gently running his fingers through the black strands as he blinked sleep from his eyes.

 

At last, Ari shifted as well, her many eyes opening in unison as she stared up at him shyly.

“Hi,” she said quietly. Ron remembered that yeah, he still wasn’t super excited about the whole marrying-a-spider thing. Still, he wasn’t really mad at Ari for any of this.

 

“Hello, Ari,” he replied, “I...think we’re up a bit early. Do you want to have that talk now?”

 

“Okay,” she agreed, shifting up to meet his eyes, “What do you want to talk about?”

 

Doing his best to ignore how very naked she still was, Ron answered, “You and me.  Whatever… this is, I guess.”

 

Ari cocked her head. She replied, “Okay. I’m sorry, for starters.”

 

“Sorry for what?” Ron asked.

 

Ari looked down, picking at the pillowcase as she explained, “Trapping you in this, without you realizing. I should have explained it better, maybe actually asked myself instead of-“

 

Ron put his hand on her shoulder. “Hey,” he whispered softly, “You don’t need to apologize. I’m still a little annoyed that I got roped into this, I’ll admit, but I’m not mad at you. You asked for this, but I agreed to it, even if I didn’t know what it was. That’s my fault, and I’m the only one who can be blamed.”

 

Ari still didn’t look up. “But I still claimed you,” she said, “Still made you mine, even though you didn’t want to be. And now we can’t undo it, and you’re stuck with me.”

 

Ron admitted, “Honestly, I don’t hate the idea of being stuck with you as much as I thought I would.”

 

Ari perked up a little. Timidly, she said, “R-really?”

 

Ron nodded. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why himself, but seeing Ari in a place like this, as a person and not as a spider, made him a little less worried for a future where she was by his side. 

He said, “Yeah, it’s just that...well, I always imagined myself marrying someone I loved.”

 

Ari looked at him curiously again. “This might be a weird question, but...what do you mean?” she asked quietly.

 

Ron stared at her for a long moment before he said, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. What do I mean about what?”

 

“Marrying for love,” Ari replied, “Is...is that a thing humans do? Acromantula...we don’t. It’s not expected.”

 

Ron hadn’t known that. It didn’t make sense to him, but he did his best to understand anyway. He asked, “Really? Do Acromantula not love at all?”

 

Ari answered, “We do, in our own way. But, as you probably realized last night, marriage for us is just… less of a big deal. It’s a stage in a relationship, not a goal, and one that comes faster for us than for humans. My mother always told me about how she didn’t truly fall in love with Mom until after they got married, and I always assumed that I would be the same. Are you… is it different, for humans?”

 

Ron assumed that she meant Aragog when she spoke of “Mom,” and “mother” was Aragog’s wife. 

He gathered his thoughts for a moment, then began, “Well, I can’t say if it’s true for everyone, obviously; there’s a whole lot of people out there with a lot of ideas about what love and marriage should be. Some make more sense than others, at least I think so. But for what I’ve always been taught, yeah, humans marry for love, or they should, anyway. Most people don’t do arranged marriages anymore, and the ones who do… aren’t the kind of people who you’d like very much. I never really thought about it that much, honestly, but if I was asked, I’d probably have said that if I got married, it would be after Hogwarts, to a woman I’d fallen for a long time before. Obviously, that’s not gonna happen now.”

 

“I mean, it could…” Ari said shyly, trailing off like she was scared to finish the thought.

 

Ron looked at her, confused once more. “Um, what?” he asked.

 

Taking a deep breath, Ari stammered out, “Acromantulaarepolygamous…”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Ron said, “slow down, I didn’t hear you.”

 

Ari gathered herself, seeming to remind herself of something, then said, “Acromantula are… accepting of polyamorous relationships, I think is the right term? Most of them, me included, are completely okay with being part of a three-way relationship, or even more…”

 

Ron stared for a long moment, watching Ari tap her cheek nervously as she waited for his reaction. Eventually, Ron coughed and said, “Um, excuse me, did you just say what I think you said? You...you’d be okay with me going off and, um, shagging other girls?”

 

“I mean, as long as I got a turn with them too, and they were okay with sharing you, yeah,” Ari admitted, “even if I wasn’t already okay with that, it’s not like I have a right to claim you when we got together the way we did.”

 

Ron tried to clear his head of the image of Ari with another woman, waiting for him. He said, “I-I don’t know about that…”

 

“Don’t worry about it right now,” Ari told him, “it’s a thought for the future, anyway. We need to figure out who we are before that, Ron.”

 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Ron agreed, focusing back on the woman in front of him.

 

“Can I ask you a question?” Ari said after a brief pause, bringing her hand up almost instinctively to cover his, interlacing her pale, slightly cold fingers with his. Ron hadn’t realized how slender her fingers were; they seemed delicate, vulnerable. How had he been afraid of her, back in the forest, when her hand was so gentle?

 

Ari’s pure, deep-black eyes, all of them, seemed to pierce right through him as she asked, “Do you love me, Ron? Right now, with what I did to you?”

 

Ron...wasn’t sure how to answer that. It wasn’t every day that he got asked by naked women if he loved them, after all.  But he supposed that, if honesty was the order of the day, then Ari would appreciate building their future on a foundation that would hold true.

 

“No,” he replied.  Ari began to wilt, although her eyes suggested that she’d been expecting that answer.

But Ron wasn’t done.  “No,” he repeated, “not yet.”

 

Ari froze, looking back up at him, her mouth open a little as Ron spoke.  He continued, “Ari, I’ve only known you for a few hours, even though it feels like longer. Love...it doesn’t happen that fast. But… I know you better and better the more we talk, and I want you to know that I could love you. I think I will, if we keep going like this. I can’t say for sure, obviously, but I can feel it creeping up in my chest, when I look at you. I can’t say it yet, because I want to be honest. But someday, I’m pretty sure I will.”

 

Ari had tear tracks down her cheeks; Ron hadn’t known that Acromantula could cry. 

 

She replied, “T-thank you, Ron, for the truth. That’s...more than I deserve, I think. And, for what it’s worth, I feel the same. I don’t love you yet, but then, I didn’t expect to. And the parts of you I liked enough to ask Mom to bind us together back in that clearing… I can see where they’ll lead me to love you.”  

 

Ron’s throat was dry. Part of him, the part used to being the spare of the spares, the unnecessary one, the part that didn’t really expect much from the world but got disappointed sometimes anyway, felt as though it was curling up in the corner; never quite gone, but forgotten, a relic of the past.  He couldn’t help but put his arms around Ari; she snuggled closer to him in the golden morning light.  “Thank you,” he whispered to her.

 

She smiled. “Can I kiss you?” Ari asked gently.

Ron nodded wordlessly, and he watched, frozen, as Ari leaned in close and put her lips on his. They were warmer than he expected; he could feel slight divots where her fangs were, behind her lips.  For a moment, Ron thought that all was right with the world.  

 

Then, everything went wrong, when one Seamus Finnigan yanked open the curtains of Ron’s bed to see Ron making out with a spider girl.

 

*****

 

“Hey, Ron!  You have to get up!” Seamus shouted, yanking the poster open.  He immediately saw Ari, who defensively shifted into her acromantula form, which caused Ron’s eyes to widen, and he let go of her.  Seamus let out a shrill shriek, and drew his wand.  “RON!  MOV-” he was cut off when Ariana shifted back into her human form, and clung to Ron protectively.  “What… what the fuck?” he stammered.

 

Fred and George burst in, wands raised.  “Brother?!  Are you alright!?” the two exclaimed, worried looks on their faces.  They then saw him and the girl.  “Uhhh… what?”

 

Ron let out an annoyed sigh.  “This is going to take some explanation…”

 

*****

 

Harry listened as Ron explained how Ari, now wearing one of Ron’s t-shirts, came to be.

 

“So… you stood up to an Acromantula Queen,” Fred said aloud.

 

“Yep.”

 

“And you convinced her to spare you and Harry,” George continued.

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“And one of her daughters convinced this… Aragog… to marry her to you, and you didn’t know that until it was already done.” Seamus added.

 

“That’s right.”

 

“And she has three forms- full acromantula, a centaur but with a spider body, and mostly-human, the latter what she’s in now,” Dean repeated, scratching his head at how weird wizards were.

 

“That’s right!” Ari exclaimed, hugging Ron.

 

“And, this was all by accident?” Nevile inquired.

 

“Yep,” Ron admitted.

 

“Well then, there’s only one thing to do,” Fred decided.

 

“Indeed, brother,” George added.  The two fourth years immediately bowed to Ron.

 

“All hail Ronald Billious Weasley, god of sex,” they chorused.

 

Ari giggled, but stumbled a little, before using Ron to stabilize herself.  “Does that mean you can give me children now?” she asked.  Fred and George began to burst out laughing.

 

Ron’s face turned as red as his hair.  “N-no!  Not yet!  W-we can start trying for children next school year, if you want…” he told her.

 

“Awww… I wanna lay eggs soon…” she moped.  “Acromantulas like feeling heavy with eggs…”

 

“Humans don’t lay eggs, dear sister-in-law,” George told Ari.

 

“Indeed.  Unborn children are held in the womb for nine months, growing until they’re born.  We have pictures, if you’d like,” Fred mentioned.  George slapped him.

 

“I’d like that,” Ari said, confused at how humans reproduced.

 

Fred sprinted out of the dormitory and soon came back with a book.  Ari grabbed it.  Within five minutes, she was panting heavily, and had an aroused smile.  “Yeeessss…” she moaned, before handing the book back to Fred, who returned it.  George was holding his head.

 

“Brother, did you have to show her that?” he groaned.

 

“Why Brother, I did!  She needs to know what to expect!” Fred responded.

 

“Judging by her looks, Ronnikins is going to lose his virginity this summer, don’tcha reckon?” George asked.

 

Fred nodded.  “We may become uncles by the end of our fifth year,” he said sagely.  Ron was just babbling nonsense, while the rest of the boys, including Harry, were rolling on the floor with laughter.

 

Notes:

Updated discord server link: https://discord.gg/tn48dE

Chapter 6

Chapter by The_Plauge_Dragon

After the gigglefest at Ron’s expense, the group decided to head down for breakfast.  However, a problem was apparent:  Ron had no female underwear or clothing for Ari.

 

“I could just be a drider?” she suggested, shapeshifting into her drider form.  While her shirt now gave her private parts cover, she was now too wide to fit through the door.  She then poofed back into her humanoid form.  “Or… not…”

 

Nevile quickly ran out to the common room.  A few minutes passed, before he came back, carrying a load of girl’s clothing.  “I got one of the girls to grab some of Hermione’s clothes.  Hopefully they’ll fit,” he told everyone.  Ari grabbed them, and put them on.  Sure enough, they fit… mostly.

 

“Hmm… I think I’ll have to make some new clothes tonight,” she mused.  “Ron, if you see me in Drider form, please don’t freak out,” she told him.  Ron nodded.  “And now, breakfast awaits!” she declared, marching out to the common room.  The group followed her, where she was dropping her head.  “I don’t know where the food is served,” she admitted.

 

Ron smiled softly.  “Come on, just follow us,” he instructed, leading the group out of the Gryffindor common room.

 

*****

 

Like the previous night, Ari was fascinated by the school, before she began sniffing.  Her nose crinkled, and she gained a disgusted look.  “What is that smell!?” she complained, to the confusion of the group.  They then arrived at the Great Hall, where the Slytherins only had to take one look at Ari, before they burst out laughing.

 

“Trying to defile your blood even more, Weasley?!” Pansy shrieked.

 

Draco was chortling.  “You got over your fear of spiders, so now you’re fucking one?!” he called out.

 

The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were murmuring to each other over this recent development.  Snape was watching the events closely.  McGonagall was in shock.  Ari, however, had something else on her mind.

 

“How are you all alive!?” she screamed, pointing at the Slytherins.  “Your body smells like rotting meat!” she exclaimed.  She sniffed again.  “And you smell like rotting blood as well!  Are you all poisoned?!”  The Slytherins looked incredibly offended.

 

“They inbreed, Ari,” Ron whispered to his new spider wife.  Ariana’s eyes widened in horror.

 

“That’s awful!” she exclaimed.  “Their family size is going to be small, if not nonexistent!  They won’t be able to marry!”

 

“How dare you, you filthy animal!” Draco howled.  “My blood is superior to yours!”  Before the argument could escalate into another food fight, Harry nudged Ron.

 

“We need to ask her about what she knows,” he reminded his best friend.  Ron nodded.

 

“Hey, Ari… what do you know about the monster of Slytherin??  Do you know what it is?”

 

Ari fidgeted.  “I’m sorry, Ron… I know what it is… but I can’t say it’s name… it’s just too scary…” she admitted.  “Mom told me that the only fatality was a girl who was found in a bathroom…”

 

Harry’s eyes widened.  “Ron… what if that girl is still there!?” he whispered.

 

Ron got the idea.  “You don’t think… Myrtle?!”

 

Ari cocked her head.  “Mom said that was her name, actually,” she helpfully added.  Harry and Ron simultaneously slammed their heads into the table.

 

“To think we could’ve just… asked her…” Ron groaned.  “Now we have to get there again…”

 

“How?  The teachers will catch us…” Harry muttered.

 

Ari moped.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful…”

 

Ron gave her a gentle hug.  “Hey, it’s alright.  You tried your best,” he explained, his caringness becoming more and more genuine the longer he held her.  Then, McGonagall walked over.  “Uhh… good morning, professor…” Ron murmured.

 

Ariana looked at the Transfiguration professor with a confused expression.  “Why do you smell like a cat?”

 

“That does not concern you, Ms-”

 

“Mrs. Weasley, actually!  Ron’s my husband!” she exclaimed.  Harry stifled a chuckle at Ron’s horrified expression.

 

“Oh?  Because when I escorted the second years back to the dormitory, he was not married, nor were you in the castle.  Care to explain, Mr. Weasley?”

 

Fred and George were watching.  Fred mouthed ‘I’ll miss you,’ to him.  After a minute, Ron opened his mouth.

 

“Last night, Harry and I encountered Aragog, who threatened to kill us.  I did some bluffing, and she was so impressed she married me off to Ariana, her 127th daughter,” Ron explained, his voice completely flat.  Harry gained a shocked expression.  McGonagall also had a shocked expression, before she smiled.

 

“It must’ve been quite frightening for her to appear in your dormitory, Mr. Weasley,” she said dryly.  “I’m impressed you kept your nerve and didn’t wake up anyone besides Mr. Potter.  Ten points to Gryffindor.”  With that, she strode up to the Staff Table, leaving the Gryffindors gobsmacked.  She turned around and mouthed ‘Your bullshitting skills are impressive, Mr. Weasley.’

 

Ron slowly pulled his jaw off of the table.  “Did she… did she just…”

 

“I think she did…” Harry got out.

 

“Just when I thought she couldn’t get even cooler…”

 

*****

 

Of course, this awe died when McGonagall announced that, in spite of all of the attacks, exams would still be going on.

 

“Are you serious!?” Seamus exclaimed.  “We still have EXAMS!?”

 

“Well, you’re still in school.  Therefore, per Professor Lockhart’s insistence that the school function as normally as possible, you will still have to take exams.  The only students who are exempt from them are those who have been petrified,” the Deputy Headmistress explained.  Harry was concerned, since exams had been the last thing on his mind.  Ron, however, looked distraught.

 

“My wand… I can’t imagine what exams would be like with it… it served me well last year… but in its state…” he trailed off, pointing to the smouldering tip.  Ari winced in sympathy, and gave him a hug.  Ron’s teenage mind promptly decided the warm breasts pressing against him were more important.

 

*****

 

Three days before their first exams, McGonagall made an announcement during breakfast.  Ari was, now that she had become used to the Slytherin’s stech, actually eating.

 

“I have wonderful news to announce!  Professor Sprout has told me that the mandrakes are ready to be made into potions!  Tonight, the students and the ghost who have been petrified will be able to awaken, and may be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them!”

 

This speech led to furious mumblings.  The Slytherins looked depressed, but the other three houses were excited.

 

“So Hermione can tell us what she knows now!” Ron exclaimed.  “That means that we might not even need to see Myrtle at all!”  As they were celebrating, none of them noticed Ginny suddenly stand up, and run out of the Great Hall.

 

*****

 

Harry and Ron decided that it would be a good idea to see Myrtle anyways, if they got the chance.  As it turned out, the chance came when Lockhart was leading them to History of Magic.

 

“I don’t know what attacked them, but I’m certain that it wasn’t Hagrid.  I’m positive that once his innocence is secured, he’ll be issued a full apology!” he exclaimed.  “Well, I daresay that you can reach your class without me, and I must be going to prepare for my next class!”  With that, he sprinted off.

 

“Most likely he’s going to curl his hair,” Ron snarked, before his eyes widened.  “Let’s go see Myrtle!” he whispered.  Harry and Ari nodded, and they went that way.  However, almost immediately, they were caught by McGonagall.

 

“Potter!  Weasley!  Explain yourselves!” she demanded, her mouth so thin that Harry wasn’t sure if individual air molecules could pass.

 

“We… we were… we were, ummm…” Harry began, not sure what to say.

 

Ron, however, proved to be capable of speaking coherently.  “We were going to visit Hermione,” he told her.  “We haven’t seen her in a while, and I wanted to introduce Ariana to her…” he told her.

 

McGonagall was silent for a full twenty seconds, before she sniffed, like she was trying to hold back tears.  Her voice came out incredibly croaky.  “O- of course,” she stammered.  “I- I can’t imagine how hard this is for you… I’ll inform Professor Binns where you have gone, and tell Madam Pomfrey that you have my permission,” she told them, walking towards the History of Magic classroom.

 

Harry and Ron looked at each other, and decided to go to the Hospital Wing.  After their teacher’s near-breakdown, it would just be wrong to not do that.  Of course, Madam Pomfrey was reluctant.  “I’m sorry, but there’s no real point in talking to a petrified person…” she admitted.  Harry, Ron, and Ari still visited.

 

“I like her ears and tail,” Ari said, rubbing her hand across the frozen fuzziness.  Harry wasn’t paying attention to the spider girl.  Instead, he noticed a slip of paper clenched in between Hermione’s fingers.  Due to the fact it was like she was made of stone, it took some time.  He also had to be careful to not tear it.  It took a while, but he eventually got it out.

 

“Ron, look,” He told his friend.  The three then looked at the parchment.  From the looks of it, Hermione has copied something from a library book, probably with a spell.  Harry then read the passage aloud.

 

“Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken’s egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy,” he said, before looking at the bottom of the page. In Hermione’s handwriting, there was the word ‘pipes’, in all capitals and underlined as well.

 

It was like a light switch had been flicked.  “Ari, is the monster a basilisk?” he asked her.  The spider girl nodded fearfully.

 

“That explains everything!  I’ve been hearing it because it’s a snake, and I can speak parseltongue!” Harry exclaimed.

 

“But how has no one died?  Or how has it been getting around?!” Ron exclaimed.

 

“Hermione figured it out!  It’s using the plumbing!  That’s why I’ve been hearing it in the walls!  And how no one has died… no one’s looked into its eyes directly!  Well, except for Nick, but you can’t die twice!  Mrs. Noris must’ve seen it’s reflection, Justin had to have seen it through Nick, Colin saw it through his camera, and Hermione and Penelope were holding a mirror!  Hermione must’ve told the first person she saw about it, and Clearwater pulled out her mirror and they saw it!”

 

“Plumbing… what if… what if the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is in Myrtle’s bathroom?” Ron asked.  Harry smacked his head.

 

“Of course!  Come on, we have to tell Professor McGonagall!” Harry exclaimed, the three rushing towards the staff office.  They soon arrived, but when they entered, McGonagall’s magically amplified voice rang out.

 

“All students are to return to their dormitories immediately!  All teachers are to report to the staff room at once!”

 

Before Harry or Ron could do anything, Ari quickly removed her pants and underwear that she had made.  Before the two could ask her to put them back on, she shifted into her drider form.  Unfortunately, her upper clothing didn’t survive, so Ron found himself in between her breasts.  She then grabbed Harry and Ron, and scurried to the ceiling.

 

“What are you doing!?” Harry whispered.

 

“No one ever looks up,” she replied.  Before any of the three could say anything else, the teachers, led by McGonagall, stormed in.  Once they were inside, she turned to the teachers.

 

“It’s happened.  A student has been taken by the monster into the chamber of secrets itself!  The heir of Slytherin has left another message, right below the first:  ‘Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever’,”

 

All of the teachers gained horrified expressions.  “Who?” Snape snarled.  Harry was pretty sure the man looked like he’d wish to take on the basilisk himself.

 

“Ginny Weasley,” McGonagall confirmed.  Ron went limp in Ari’s hand.  “We have no choice but to send the students home tomorrow.  It’s for their own safety.  Each head will have to inform their houses.”  Before she could continue, Lockhart waltzed in.

 

“Sorry, I dozed off.  What did I miss?” he asked, beaming his usual smile.  The teachers were staring at him with clear contempt and loathing.  Snape stepped forward.

 

“Ah, Professor Lockhart.  It seems your moment has come at last.  A girl has been taken into the Chamber of Secrets.”

 

“M-my moment?” he stuttered.

 

“Yes.  After all, your skills are legendary.  I daresay that you’ve figured out where the chamber is, and what’s inside.  We’ll leave the monster in your capable hands,” Professor Sprout told him.

 

Lockhart paled to an almost ghostly white, before he recovered.  “V-very well… I’ll just… be getting ready,” he told them, running off to his office.

 

“Well, that’s gotten rid of him.  Now, we need to go alert the students,” McGonagall instructed.  One after the other, the teachers left the room.  When they were all gone, Ari scurried onto the floor, where she changed back into her humanoid form.  

 

“I’ll have to sew new clothes,” she admitted, putting her pants back on.  “I’ll head back to the dormitory.  Are you two going to talk to Lockhart?”

 

Harry and Ron nodded.  “He may be useless, but we should tell him what we know,” he told Ron’s wife.  Ariana nodded, and sprinted towards the Gryffindor tower.  Harry and Ron took off towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.  When they entered, however, they came to a shocking sight.  Instead of preparing, the Professor was hurriedly packing his bags!

 

“Professor?” Harry inquired.  Lockhart looked up in alarm.

 

“Oh, hello, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley…” he said awkwardly.

 

“Are you going somewhere?” Ron rhetorically asked.

 

“Well yes… urgent call, unavoidable…”

 

“What about my sister!?”

 

“Well, it’s unfortunate… no one regrets is more then I-”

 

“You’re running away!?  After all the things you did in your books!?” Harry exclaimed.

 

“Books can be misleading!”

 

“You wrote them!”

 

“Use your common sense, boy!  Those books wouldn't sell half as well if people didn’t think I did those things-” Lockhart ranted, before he paused.  “I shouldn’t have said that.”

 

“You’re a fraud.  All you’re doing is taking credit for things others have done,” Harry accused, before he got thoughtful.  “How are you not buried in lawsuits!?”

 

“Simple.  I track the people who did it down, pose as a reporter, get the details, and modify their memories.  I’m very good at memory charms.  And I’m sorry, but I can’t have you blabbing,” he added, raising his wand.

 

Before he could do anything, Harry waved his own wand.  “Expelliarmus!” he shouted, Disarming the fraud.  He and Ron then pointed their wands at Lockhart.  “Now then, you’re coming with us,” he growled, leading the man to Myrtle’s bathroom.

 

*****

 

The three arrived after a tense walk.  When they arrived, Myrthel was sitting on a toilet.

 

“Well hello there.  What do you three want?” she asked.

 

“We need to know how you died,” Harry explained.

 

“That’s not something anyone has ever asked before…” Myrtle said aloud.  “Well, Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses and blood status- I’m muggleborn- and I was in a stall, crying.  Then, I heard the door open.  Someone walked in, and it sounded like they were speaking some sort of made-up language.  What was really interesting was that it was a boy speaking.  So, I got out to scold him for being in a girl’s bathroom, and then I was suddenly staring into a pair of great, big, bulbous, yellow eyes by the sink.  After that, I was just floating away… until I came back to haunt Olive.  That was so cathartic!”

 

Harry walked over to the sink, and began to feel around it.  On one of the sinks, he saw a barely noticeable etching of a snake.  “This is it,” he said aloud.  “Now, how do we get it to open?” Harry inquired, before Ron snapped his fingers.

 

“The Heir fifty years ago must’ve used Parseltongue!  Harry, say ‘Open’ in Parseltongue!” Ron instructed.

 

Harry stared at the snake carving.  “ Open ,” he said to it.  This time, however, he noticed that his voice was a hiss.  With that hiss, there was a rumbling.  One by one, the sinks fell down, revealing a gaping hole in the ground.  

 

“Welp, I’ll leave you two to it-” Lockhart began, before Harry and Ron forced him to the hole.

 

“You first.  We have to see if it’s safe,” Ron growled, pushing him down.  There were rather girly screams for about thirty seconds.

 

“Dear Merlin it’s filthy down here!” Lockhart shouted.  Harry and Ron shrugged, and jumped down.

Chapter 7

Summary:

Le Discord: https://discord.gg/MEGP4gS

The trip down the pipe was, in a word, exhilarating.  Harry could faintly see smaller pipes branching off as they slid.  From the timeline, it was likely that they were further down then the dungeons.  Faintly, he could hear Ron following after him.  Finally, after about three minutes of fun, he ended up sliding down onto a flat surface, skidding for about thirty feet.  He quickly got up, noticing Lockhart hurriedly trying to clean his robes.  Harry moved, and Ron skidded out as well.

“We must be miles under the school,” Harry said to his friend.

“Judging by the slime, I’d say the lake, to be exact,” Ron mused.  “Also, if it weren’t for the fact that a basilisk could be waiting at the end that would be a fun slide.”  Harry just gave him a look.  “What?”

“Lumos!” Harry shouted, lighting the tip of his wand.  Ron did the same, grateful that his wand didn’t explode.  “Now, if you see anything moving, close your eyes immediately,” Harry instructed.

“Harry… if we run into the basilisk… how are we going to fight it?” Ron inquired.  In response, Harry pulled out a piece of parchment.

“I’m going to use that latin chant.  I don’t know what it does, but it’s our best shot,” he explained.  Before they could get any further, Lockhart pointed and babbled incoherently.  Harry brought his wand up, and saw something nearby.

“Is it asleep?” Ron inquired.  Harry tiptoes over to what they thought was the basilisk, only to see that it wasn’t the magical snake, just its shed skin.  “Blimey!  It would have to be at least sixty feet long to shed that!” Ron gasped.  At that Lockhart collapsed in a heap, passing out from fear.  “Get up!” Ron snarled, kicking the fraud of a teacher.  Lockhart did get up, but not in the way Harry or Ron would’ve wanted.  He dove at Ron like a man possessed.  Harry rushed in to try to save his friend, but he was too late.  Lockhart had stolen Ron’s wand, and was now pointing it at the two boys.

“The journey ends here, boys!” he growled.  “But don’t fret, the world will know our story!  They’ll know that, in spite of our best efforts, I was too late to save the girl, and you two lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body!” he laughed.

Harry looked at Ron, and mouthed ‘Any idea how this is going to backfire on him?’

Ron mouthed back, ‘He’ll probably forget everything, up to and including who he is’.

Lockhart ended his laughter, and pointed Ron’s wand at the two again.  “Say goodbye to your memories!  OBLIVIATE!”

*****

It was known among those who studied wand lore that the wand chose the wizard.  What was known only to a few was that wands were fully sentient, in their own way.  What was known only to the greatest wandcrafters, however, was that the spirits of wands could reach out to Magic itself should the need arise.  And here, Ron’s wand found that need.

“My lady, I have a request,” the spirit asked.

“SPEAK,” Magic replied.

“Change the world.  Flow through me, and alter what is, and make it what could have been,” Ron’s wand begged.

“YOU KNOW THE COST OF SUCH A REQUEST.  ARE YOU WILLING TO PAY IT?”

“For my master, and his friend?  Yes.”

“THEN SO BE IT.”

*****

For a second, there was nothing.  And then, before all of their eyes, Ron’s wand disintegrated to ash.

“What the-” Lockhart began, before a blinding explosion of pure white flung Lockhart into a wall.  The blast brought down a large amount of rock as well, separating Harry and Ron.

“RON!” Harry shouted.

“I’m alright!” Ron shouted back.  “Lockhart’s knocked out, and my wand is gone!  It’ll take ages to dig through this rubble!”

Harry thought for a moment, before he made up his mind.  “I’ll go on ahead.  I still have the chant.  If I’m not back in an hour…” he trailed off, not needing to finish that sentence.

“I’ll try to move the rock so that when you get back you can squeeze through,” Ron replied.

Harry nodded, and said “I’ll see you in a bit, Ron,” before walking down the corridor.  After maybe two minutes of walking, he found himself staring at what could easily have been an entrance to a fallout shelter or a bank vault, were it not for the snakes carved upon the door.  Harry knew what he had to do.

“Open,” he commanded, his voice coming out as a hiss.  A metal snake slithered along the outside of the door, and the massive vault opened, creaking loudly.  Harry steeled himself, and stepped into the chamber.

******

Ron stared at the caved-in tunnel in helpless anger. Harry was down there, and there was nothing Ron could do. He couldn’t help his sister, or his friend. He didn’t even have a wand anymore.  He’d never felt more useless. Everything he’d done, with Hermione and Harry and even Ari, had earned him the right to stare at a pile of rubble with an unconscious liar behind him, while his friends and family were in danger.

Suddenly, Ron heard a groan from behind him. “Great,” he thought, “this fucker’s awake again.”

Lockhart pulled himself into an upright position, rubbing his head.   “Damn,” he said, “whatever that was got me good.”

The first thing Ron noticed was that Lockhart’s voice was different. Where his voice had always been a slightly off-sounding falsetto, the voice of a showman trying to convince an audience more than an adventurer, it was now rough, gritty, without the simpering refinement of his old voice, and a few octaves lower. This was the voice of a man who had little time for fancy words.
Then, Ron spotted the differences in the man’s appearance as he stood up. Instead of the elaborate coiffed hairdo full of more artificial ingredients than Muggle candy, Lockhart’s hair was now close-cropped, sticking up in a way that suggested he rarely combed it, streaked with more gray and tan hairs than he had had before. He was a few inches taller, visibly buffer and more powerfully built, and he moved with the grace of a trained fighter. This was a completely different man to the pathetic coward Ron and Harry had dragged into this mad plan.

And then there were the scars. On his head and neck, crisscrossing his forearms where they poked out from the sleeves of his-were those dueling robes?-and on his face. Oh, Merlin, on his face. Lockhart’s perfect smile was now covered with scars and marks, from thin white lines that looked like shrapnel marks pockmarking his left cheek and ear, to the Lichtenberg figure creeping up the side of his neck, to the massive claw-shaped scars that started at his forehead and went down the whole front of his face, crossing the bridge of his nose. His eyes were haunted, calculating, constantly moving. They were the eyes of a man used to fighting for his life with zero warning.

Where the old Lockhart had been a stupid, cowardly liar, this man was undeniably a fighter, one who radiated a quiet, steady air of confidence, but not arrogance. Suddenly, this strange not-Lockhart’s eyes fell on Ron. Gruffly, he asked, “Hey, kid. Any idea how we ended up here?”

Still not quite believing his eyes, Ron replied, “We were going to fight a basilisk, and you tried to Obliviate us with a broken wand.”

Lockhart winced, a confused expression on his face. He began, “A basilisk, eh? Now that’s something you don’t see every day. And why would I try to Obliviate you?”

“Um, because you’re a liar who stole all your stories and didn’t want us to tell everyone?” Ron told him.

Lockhart didn’t even seem to understand what he was saying. “Stories?” he asked, “what stories? Kid, I’m in the stories, I don’t write them.”

“What the actual fuck is going on?” Ron wondered, “did that blast somehow rewrite his brain?”

“Look, man, I have no idea what you think you’re doing, but my friend is fighting the basilisk right now, and we really need to find a way to get through this cave-in and help him,” Ron tried, hoping that this weird Lockhart would actually help him.

To Ron’s shock, Lockhart immediately nodded and strode over to the caved-in area. Without a wand, he examined the rockfall, looking for...something.  Eventually, he stood back and shook his head.

“No can do, kid,” he told Ron, “it’s not stable. One blast from a wand, or even just a good shove, could bring this entire tunnel down on our heads.”

Ron didn’t know how Lockhart knew that, but he asked, “Are you sure? Can’t we just...I don’t know, magic our way through?”

Lockhart shook his head again. “It’s the first rule of cave-ins, kid. Never mess with anything unless you are completely, absolutely, one hundred percent sure that it won’t make things worse,” he replied.

Ron snapped, “Oh, and I assume you know that from one of the stories you stole?”

Lockhart looked at him curiously. “I didn’t steal anything, kid,” he said, “heck, I didn’t want a lot of the stuff I did to get published. Felt like it cheapened it, you know? I don’t protect people for fame.”

Still incredibly confused, Ron replied, “Oh, so that demon you fought in Transylvania or wherever was totally real!”

“It wasn’t a demon,” Lockhart corrected, “it was a fire spirit. And does this look fake to you?”  He pulled up his sleeve to show an angry red burn scar that covered most of his shoulder. It was in the unmistakable shape of a handprint, a place where Lockhart had been grabbed by a being made of flame.
Ron couldn’t argue against that scar, which he knew hadn’t been there when they walked into this tunnel.  “Did the blast from my wand rewrite reality itself or something?” he thought hysterically.

It was the only thing that made any sense at all. Somehow, his wand had channeled enough power to completely change Lockhart’s life, turning him from a thief and liar into the man who had actually done the things his old self had pretended to do. It had been destroyed in the process, sure, but still.  Well, they still couldn’t get to Harry, and it wasn’t like Ron wasn’t used to rolling with wacky bullshit. The spider wife waiting for him in his room was proof enough of that.
Ron sat down against a pile of rocks to wait; Lockhart did the same.

“So, tell me about these stories,” Ron began.

“What do you want to know?” Lockhart asked.

“What the fuck my life is anymore,” Ron thought, “but I don’t think I’m ever going to get that answer.”

Instead, he said, “Why don’t you tell me about the fire spirit?”

Lockhart nodded, and began to speak.

*****

The chamber was truly massive, as long as a football field.  To the side, large snake columns dotted the water-filled lower parts.  And, at the end of the chamber, Harry caught the sight of flaming red hair, attracted to an unconscious, black-robed figure.

“Ginny!” he cried out, rushing towards her.  As he did, he kept a firm grip on his wand.  He’d need that if the basilisk came.  He sprinted towards her, almost slipping once or twice.  When he came to her prone form, he kneeled down besides her.  He felt her hand, and gasped at how cold it was.  He turned her over, and saw that her eyes were closed.

“Not petrified, then…” he muttered to himself, feeling for a pulse.  There was one, but it was very faint.  She was also barely breathing.  “Come on Ginny, please wake up… we have to go!” he urgently whispered.

“She won’t wake,” a male voice rang out from the darkness.  Harry knew that voice.  He gasped- partially from the shock of hearing it, and partially from the spike of sheer, world-consuming loathing that went through his skull… it was like something inside of him wanted him gone…

“Tom… Tom Riddle?!  H-how?!” Harry stammered, wincing as the loathing continued.  Then he realized what he said.  “You mean… she’s dead!?”

“No… she’s alive… but only just… Death is sure to claim her shortly,” he informed Harry.

“How… how are you even here?!  Are you a ghost?”

“No.  I am a memory.  I was preserved in a diary for the past fifty years,” Riddle explained.  Harry looked, and sure enough, Tom’s diary was there.  He idly wondered how and why it was there, but he didn’t have time to think about it.

“Tom, do you think you could lend me a hand?  We have to get out of here right now!  THE basilisk could show up at any moment-”

“It won’t come until it is called,” Tom coldy stated.

“Well then, let’s not see if having three humans is ‘calling’ it!  Help me already!” Harry snapped, that loathing getting deeper and deeper.

“No, I shall not.  You see, I’ve wanted to have a chat with you, Harry Potter.  And now, here we are, face-to-face.”

“Can we talk later?!” Harry growled, now having to fight the urge to punch Tom in the face… or, for some reason, call him a murderer.

“No, we’re going to talk right here, and right now!” Tom shouted, a twisted smile on his face.

“Fine,” Harry spat.  “First of all, what the FUCK happened to Ginny!?”

“Oh, her?  Well, it’s quite simple.  She poured out her soul to an invisible stranger- me.  She did this because she found my diary.  The little fool has been writing in it for months upon months… talking about how much she felt nervous, how she wished that the great Harry Potter loved her… she talked about getting teased by her brothers… so much tiny, boring information.  However, it served my purpose.  I pretended to care.  I acted patient, kind, and caring.  Poor Ginny simply loved me, and saw me as a trusted friend… how silly.”

“You’re a monster…” Harry growled.

“Oh?  You’re calling me that already?  Why, I haven’t gotten to the best parts yet!” Riddle cackled- it was a cold, cruel laugh.  “As she poured out her soul to me, I was able to pour out mine to hers!  I soon gained enough power to possess her!  I used her to continue what I started fifty years ago, and opened the chamber again!”

“It was you…” Harry snarled.  “You opened the chamber.  You framed Hagrid-” Harry’s voice then hitched.  “And YOU killed Myrtle!” he shouted, feeling more rage than he thought he should’ve.

“Well, I couldn’t have opened the chamber without Ginny’s help. I had to use her to open the chamber, order the basilisk, and write those lovely notes on the wall.  Eventually, however, she realized I was controlling her, and tried to dispose of my diary.  And then, who should find it, but you?  You see, my goal hasn’t been to kill mudbloods since the beginning of the year.  Since then, you have been my target,” he explained.

“Me?  Why me?”

“Well, it’s quite simple:  You’ve defeated me several times.”

And then, the pieces clicked.  “You’re… you’re Voldemort… you’re the heir of Slytherin…” Harry gasped.

“I am Lord Voldemort is an anagram of my full name, Tom Marvolo Riddle,” The teenage Voldemort explained, evilly laughing.  Now Harry could place the laughter- it was the same laughter Voldemort had when he was fused with Quirrell.  “I wouldn’t keep using my filthy Muggle father’s name!  No, I needed a new name!  But enough chatter!  This time, you will die… and then, once Ginny’s soul is absorbed entirely, I will be able to walk the Earth again, as Lord Voldemort!”  He then turned towards the statue of Salazar’s head at the end of the chamber (How Harry hadn’t noticed this was beyond him) and spoke in Parseltongue, “Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four!”  The mouth slowly opened, as if the statue was yawning.  Considering magical paintings, Harry idly wondered if some statues could yawn.  And then, he saw it.  The basilisk.

“KILL HIM!” Tom howled.

“Don’t wanna… but have to… sorry...” The basilisk moped, turning towards Harry.

Harry immediately turned his eyes down to the parchment he was carrying, and raised his wand.

“Your wand won’t save you, Potter!  You don’t know anything that can penetrate the basilisk’s scales!”

“I know this!” Harry retorted, clearing his throat.  “Audi obedientes Per potentiam MAGIA:-”

“NO!” Riddle roared, firing off a burst of magic.  However, a blue shield protected Harry.  The basilisk was also entrapped. 

“Adiuro te ad voluntatem meam!” Harry continued, nervous.  The basilisk was beginning to shudder from the corner of his eye.

“YOU WILL NOT TAKE MY SLAVE, POTTER!” Riddle roared, leaping at the barrier.  He just bounced off.   

“Forma accipiatur gratissimum oculis Mihine servietis et quod reliquum est annorum, cum servo meo, et dilectus meus in sempiternum!” Harry finished.  As he did, a massive pulse of black light mixed with pink erupted from his wand, obscuring everything.

“POTTER!” Riddle howled in sheer fury.  “YOU BASTARD!”  His rage was palpable, shaking the entire chamber.  Harry only slightly heard this.  Instead, he was hearing the shrieking of the basilisk… but it was getting weaker, and softer. Now, it almost sounded like...a woman? What had the chant done!?

 

Chapter 8

Chapter by The_Plauge_Dragon

Summary:

Le discord: https://discord.gg/JKbqQ7w

990 AD, shortly after the founding of Hogwarts.

 

Bella enjoyed finding quiet spots along the castle walkways or on the grounds to sun herself. It let her curl up in a nice warm spot and sleep, her chin resting on the tip of her tail, coiled around her torso like her own personal blanket.  She thought it made her look cool, like a big, grown-up basilisk. Her parents always told her that it made her look cute.

 

She wasn’t cute! She was a basilisk! The Queen of Serpents! She could kill with her eyes!

Or she could in her snake form, anyway. But right now, she was in her usual form, something her Papa called a... Lamia? Something like that, at least.  But yeah, right now, Bella couldn’t hurt a fly. Well, she could, if she could catch the stupid flies. They were too fast!  Bella flicked her tail to get rid of some of those flies, which were buzzing around her head while she was trying to nap in her favorite spot, a patch of warm rocks near the lake. She grumbled as she resettled herself, trying to warm up again.

 

Then, she heard a voice call out, “Bella! There you are!”  Instantly, she perked up again, because she knew that voice.

 

“Papa!” she yelled, uncoiling and eagerly racing over to where a thin middle-aged man in long, green-and-silver robes was waving to her.  Salazar Slytherin wrapped his arms around Bella as she hugged him tightly, the air escaping his lungs with a whoosh.“You’re home!” she cheered, “did you have fun?”

 

He replied, “I sure did, sweetie! Were you well-behaved while I was away?”

 

She nodded furiously. “Yes, I was! I only tried to eat Helga’s hamster once!” she whispered, as though confiding a big secret.

 

Salazar chuckled affectionately, kneeling down to look her in the eye as he reminded her, “You know you’re not supposed to do that, Bella.”

 

“I know…” she muttered, “but it just looks so tasty…”

 

“Speaking of tasty,” another, gruffer voice interrupted, “what am I, chopped haggis?”

 

Bella looked past Salazar, to where another man stood. Taller, with a barrel chest and tangled beard as red as his kilt, as well as a massive longsword in a sheathe slung casually across his back, the man seemed to be the polar opposite of the thin, aristocratic-looking Salazar in every way.

 

“Dad!” Bella cried, shooting past Salazar and eagerly wrapping herself around Godric Gryffindor as well, as he chuckled deeply and patted her head affectionately, fingers slipping through her long, silky red hair.

 

“Hey, kiddo,” he said in his deep baritone, “is Sally telling you not to get into trouble again?”  Bella nodded, her cheeks turning red.  Godric laughed, “Well, why are you listening to him? He’s the biggest troublemaker of them all!”

 

“Oi,” Salazar replied, “what are you talking about? And when are you going to stop calling me Sally?”

 

“When it stops being funny,” Godric told his best friend.

 

“With your sense of humor, that means never,” Salazar grumbled, to which Godric and Bella both laughed in agreement.

 

Then, Bella asked, “What trouble did Papa get into this time?”

 

“See?” Salazar teased, “I get to be “ Papa.” That means she likes me more.”

 

Godric shook his head. “Nah, it just means that you’re the one who adopted her first,” he replied, “and Bella, you shoulda seen him! He tried to walk towards these raiders like a real cool wizard, cape blowing, eyes glowing, the works, and he...he tripped on his own feet! Woulda fallen flat on his face, if your favorite Da hadn’t hauled him up just in time to save his sorry ar-“

 

His face bright red with embarrassment, Salazar still managed to cough meaningfully just in time to save Bella’s innocent ears, making Godric shut his mouth.

 

In a dignified tone, the most cunning wizard in Britain said, “Just because my use of intimidation tactics was unsuccessful this time, doesn’t mean that you should knock their effectiveness, Godric.”

 

Bending down to let Bella slither off of his arm, Godric hooted, “Oh yeah, you looked real intimidatin’ there, Sally! Those Danes were about to drop dead...of laughter!”

 

“Call me “Sally” again, and I will curse your entire bloodline to have backwards kneecaps for the rest of time,” Salazar responded, a completely deadpan expression on his face.

 

“Weak!” Godric cracked, “a real curse from you would be more clever. Aren’t you supposed to be the sneaky one, not the angry one?”

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be the brave one, and not the loud one?” Salazar retorted, a familiar grin on his face.

 

The two seemed like they were about to start trading friendly insults again, when Bella started tugging on their sleeves for attention.  “What’s wrong, Bella?” they asked at the same time.

 

With huge eyes, Bella responded, “Papa, Dad, how long until I can come with you on your trips?”

 

Salazar and Godric exchanged glances of perfect understanding; Bella was not allowed anywhere near the battlefield. Ever.  But neither one wanted to explain where they had been to a young basilisk lamia who would outlive them all, see things they would never be able to imagine.

 

Instead, Salazar knelt down and said, “It’s going to be a while, Bella. We want to make sure that you stay here, with the students, where it’s safe.”

 

Bella’s poison-green, serpentine eyes brightened instantly at the mention of the students. She loved them, because the students loved her, always showering her with pats and tasty morsels from the feast tables.   But then, she hesitated, remembering something she’d heard two students discussing the day before.

 

“But…how do you know it’s safe here?” she wondered, her eyes huge and curious.  Now, it was Godric’s turn to come to eye level with her. 

 

“Lass,” he said gently, “we are the greatest witches and wizards in these isles. We’ve put every spell we know on this castle, until we’re sure it’s safe. If this place isn’t, nowhere is.”

 

“But what if you aren’t here?” Bella asked, trembling, “what if the spells don’t work? Who will keep the students safe?”

 

Salazar and Godric exchanged a long look, a silent communication about an idea they’d known would have to be voiced sooner or later.  At last, Salazar sat down next to Bella, his soft, deep eyes boring into the lamia he’d raised from birth, that had been his adopted daughter before Hogwarts had become her home, and her family.  “Bella,” he began, his voice achingly gentle, “you know that basilisks like you can live for millennia, right?”

 

She nodded, then made a face. “Mill...ennia?” she asked, “what does that mean?”

 

“A really long time,” Godric offered, making Salazar shake his head affectionately before his expression sombered again.

 

“We won’t always be able to be around to keep the students safe,” he told Bella, “even if we’ll always be with you, one way or another. So, if we can’t...will you protect them?”

 

Bella nodded, determination shining in her eyes.  “I will,” she promised, “I won’t let anything bad happen to them.”

 

“Thank you, Bella,” Salazar said honestly, “now, why don’t you go find Helga and Rowena? We’ll be along shortly.”  Bella hugged them both again, then zipped off into the castle, her gleeful laughter echoing off the enchanted stonework. The two men listened to the echoes of her joy as long as they lasted, then turned back to each other.

 

“Well, that went…well,” Salazar began.

 

“Considering the fact that you just tried to tell the equivalent of a human five-year-old that we’re all going to die someday, I’m going to say that your definition of “going well” is different from mine,” Godric replied honestly.

 

Salazar shook his head. “I wish we didn’t have to put that on her so early,” he muttered.

 

“Me too,” Godric agreed, “but she’ll do fine. She loves the students, and the school, more than anyone else. It’s her home, and basilisks are known for defending the places they call home. The place will be in good hands, Sally.”

 

Salazar had been nodding along, only to groan as he heard his hated nickname yet again.

“I swear, let Helga trick you into taking a genderswap potion one time, and you’ll never live it down,” he grumbled, making Godric laugh.

 

The redheaded man replied, “To be fair, you did look very good in a dress.”

 

“I don’t think that’s a compliment, given your taste in women,” Salazar noted.

 

Godric retorted, “Hey, I’m a simple man with simple tastes. If a woman can beat me in a fight, then she’s my type.”

 

“Or if they’re a giantess,” Salazar said, recalling several incidents over the years.

 

Godric nodded. “Or if they’re a giantess,” he agreed, “Did I ever tell you about the time-“

 

“That you fucked three giantesses at once?” Salazar finished, “yes, you have. Too many times.”

 

“It’s a story worth telling,” Godric said, completely unashamed, “after all, it takes incredible bravery to bed a woman who could squish you with her thumb!”

 

“Oh, it takes incredible something, alright,” Salazar told his friend.

 

Godric shook his head as he clapped Salazar on the shoulder.   “At least I didn’t invent a whole new magic language to seduce a hot lamia back when I was a wee lad just discovering the joys of the world,” he told the green-clad wizard.

 

Salazar spluttered, “Oi! Parseltongue is a unique and varied branch of serpentine magic!”

 

“That you use to fuck snake women,” Godric noted.

 

Salazar sighed, knowing he was beaten. “Listen,” he began, “if this is about your stupid theory-“

 

“Oh, it isn’t stupid,” Godric retorted with a twinkle in his eye, “I’m certain of it. You found a lovely basilisk woman somewhere, didn’t you, and seduced her with your…well, I would say “masculine charms,” but you’re… you.”

 

“For the last time,” Salazar said in an exhausted tone, “Bella is not my blood child. I did not fuck a basilisk and have basilisk children with her.”

 

Godric nodded sagely. “Sure you didn’t, friend,” he replied, “but I want you to know that if you had, I would find the nearest bard and have him compose a saga to commemorate the occasion. Any man who beds a basilisk, especially a man who weds one, deserves to have his legend sung far and wide.”

 

The two returned to the castle, laughing all the way, certain that the future of Hogwarts was bright, and that the students would always be protected, kept safe by a monster who loved them.

 

*****

 

PRESENT DAY:

 

Of course, that mission has been twisted by that monster.  While he was a descendant of Papa, he was nothing like him.  He was cruel, hateful, and seemed to think that some of the students didn’t belong!  That was absurd!  Her parents had always said that anyone with magic was allowed!  And yet, she had been little more than a prisoner in her own body, attacking, and in one case, killing a student.  She hated it!

 

After that other student cast that spell, she felt a wall rising around her.  Was this it?  Was she going to die, finally released from her torment? “Papa, Dad, Mama, Mother… I’m sorry I failed…” she thought.  And then, the pain started.  It was like something was trying to force her body into a shape it was not supposed to be in.  There was an internal pressure trying to resist the spell, but the force of the spell was too much. Finally, she felt something crack, and started to scream.  As she did, however, she realized that her scream, which had started out as a hiss, was turning more and more human-like.  In a flash, she realized what that ‘crack’ had done.  

 

“YOU WILL NOT TAKE MY SLAVE, POTTER!” that cruel, cruel descendant roared.  She realized that it wasn’t in parseltongue!  The curse he had placed upon her to only be able to speak and understand it was lifted!  Now, she embraced the pain, and felt more ropes snap.  The inability to not follow his instructions?  Gone.  The inability to shield her eyes so she wouldn’t inadvertently harm someone?  Gone.  The inability to turn into her lamia form?  With a sickening crunch, she felt that vanish as well.  And now, the spell was finishing up.  She felt her arms appear once more, numb from centuries of non-use.  Her hair had grown down to her waist.  In the smoke, she cupped her breasts.  They seemed to have grown as well.

 

Then, Bella felt something new settle into place. An echo, or a connection. To...someone. Maybe whoever had cast the spell? If that was what happened, then maybe it had been a soul bond spell? Had she just moved from one master to another?

 

No, wait. It didn’t feel like she was being forced to obey orders again. This felt like a bond, but it was being shaped somehow, twisted from its original purpose. Bella knew that in such spells, intent was incredibly important. If whoever had cast it didn’t want to make her subservient...she wouldn’t be.

 

Bella felt another echo, a golden, shining soul on the other end of an invisible rope. Bella tried to focus on it, but she was still woozy, and it slipped out of her grasp. She did get a brief look, though, at a young man with a lightning scar and deep green eyes.

 

“Why is he so cute?” Bella wondered. Whatever was going on, this young man was fighting the evil descendant who had enslaved her. She could smell magic on him, too, the magic of Hogwarts. He must be a student!

 

Bella thought back to...a long time ago, though how long she wasn’t exactly sure. Papa had knelt down and asked her to keep the students safe when he couldn’t. She thought she could hear his voice in her ear, telling her, “Get up, Bella! You’re free now, just get up!” Bella groaned as she tried to raise herself off of the floor, muscles screaming in protest. She gritted her teeth and did it anyway.

 

Someone she’d sworn to protect was in danger, and Bella had a promise to keep.

 

*****

 

Harry didn’t know what would await him when the smoke cleared.  All he knew was that Riddle was furious.

 

“DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT TOOK FOR ME TO BIND HER!?  HOW LONG IT TOOK TO FORCE HER TO MY WILL!?  TO ATTACK MUDBLOODS!?” he raged.

 

Harry squinted, trying to see through the clouds of smoke and dust that filled the chamber. He wasn’t quite sure what his chant had done, but it had pissed Riddle off, so it was clearly working. Now, if only he knew how to defeat this memory…

 

Just then, Harry swore he felt something, some presence, brush against his mind. It faded again after a second, and he was too preoccupied to feel that worried about it. Instead, he called out, “Er, yeah! And now...she’s gone forever! There’s nothing you can do, so you might as well give up!”

 

Riddle paused, glaring directly at Harry, who did his best to look intimidating. Riddle asked, “You have no idea what that spell just did, do you?”

 

Harry shrugged sheepishly and answered, “Um...maybe? I think it worked, though.”

 

Riddle shook his head in frustration, dragging his hand over his face and groaning, “Great. My mortal nemesis is an idiot who doesn’t even know how to properly enslave a soul…”

 

“Hold on,” Harry cried, “are you saying that I just enslaved someone with that?”

 

“No, because you fucked up the spell,” Riddle told him, “you didn’t know what it did, so you couldn’t actually guide the damn thing. Instead, all you did is-GACK!”

 

The teenage Voldemort was suddenly interrupted by a powerful tail that swung through the smoke and dust, striking his nearly-solid form in the chest and sending him flying. Harry gawked at the deep green, scaly skin of what could only be the basilisk. Gripping his wand, he prepared to fight again.

 

Then, as the dust finally settled, he heard a rough, inhuman-sounding voice ask, “Who are you?” 

 

Turning, Harry felt his jaw drop. Instead of a massive, deadly snake, a beautiful woman appeared through the debris. Long, silky red hair hung down her back, so brilliant it looked like a sheet of flame. Her full red lips parted to reveal pointed fangs. Her eyes were deep green, like poison and the color of her scales. And she had scales, because from her thighs downward, she was a massive snake. The unmistakable tail of the basilisk wound around itself, much shorter than in her full snake form, making the woman appear just a little bit taller than a normal human woman when coiled up and upright. Harry’s eyes quickly tracked back upwards, though, because the woman was also completely without clothes, and her body was absolutely insane. Large and heavy breasts, wide hips, and pale skin that shone in the dim light of the Chamber all made Harry feel inescapably drawn to this strange woman.

 

“W-who are you?” Harry stammered, trying to avert his eyes from the woman’s naked form. 

 

The strange woman replied, “I am Bella.”

 

“You’re the basilisk,” Harry said, unsure if he was trying to ask a question or make a statement.

 

Bella nodded. “I am,” she said, “thank you for freeing me. I won’t have to hurt the students ever again.”

 

Harry frowned as he asked, “Wait, that’s what Riddle was talking about? You were being forced to do all the stuff you did?”  

 

Bella nodded guiltily, unable to meet Harry’s eyes. Harry felt a sudden pang of confusion. He’d come down here ready to slay a monster, to get revenge for all the people it had hurt. Instead, she had turned out to be as much a victim as anyone else, and a very beautiful woman to boot.

 

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose for a second, trying very hard not to scream at the confusing mess that was his life. Finally, he said, “Okay, sure, whatever. Bella, do you think you can help me deal with this fucker?”  Harry gestured to Riddle, who was getting back to his feet on the other side of the Chamber, eyes filled with murderous rage.

 

Bella grinned, exposing her pointed teeth. “Of course, Master,” she replied eagerly.

 

Harry froze. “Um, I’m sorry,” he asked, “what did you just call me?”

 

Bella looked confused at Harry’s confusion. “I called you Master,” she replied, “isn’t that what you are?”

 

Harry’s eyes went wide. With more force than he really intended, he insisted, “What? No! I’m not anybody’s master!”

 

“But the spell you used...it was meant to bind my soul to yours,” Bella told him, her face scrunched up adorably. Harry really wished he wasn’t so attracted to the giant snake lady at the moment, but honestly, it seemed like he didn’t get a say in that.

 

More importantly, his spell was meant to do what? Harry said, “I...I didn’t know that. I just wanted to make sure Riddle couldn’t use you to hurt anyone else.”

 

Bella frowned as she thought, the tip of her tail lashing back and forth. Harry got the sense that she was examining herself, trying to figure out what was going on. At last, she agreed, “So it seems. I am free again, Harry. For that, I thank you...but I think we have bigger problems at the moment.”

 

As Harry swiveled to face their common enemy, he had to dodge a nasty-looking curse that shot out of nowhere, whistling past his nose in a spiral of sickly yellow. Riddle stalked out of the debris of the chamber, leveling Ginny’s wand at him.

 

The memory snarled, “This isn’t over, Potter! I’ll kill you, and retake my slave!” 

 

Then, he attacked. Harry barely had time to react before Bella coiled her body around him and flung him aside, protecting him from Riddle’s spell. As soon as Harry realized what she’d done, he protested, “Hey, I can fight, too!”

 

Bella looked at him with fury in her eyes, fury that was deeper than anything Harry had ever seen. It burned cold and deep, a built-up well from all the mistreatment she’d suffered under Riddle’s control. All the hatred of herself for what she’d done to the students she was meant to protect was now directed towards Riddle. Harry didn’t know how he knew that, but he did. He took a step back as Bella hissed, “He is mine.”  Then, she charged at Riddle, whose eyes went wide as he was suddenly faced with a fully grown basilisk determined to rip him apart.

 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t be ripped apart, as Bella found out a moment later when she passed right through his ghostly chest. Riddle laughed, “Stupid snake, I’m not alive! Not yet, anyway!”

He ignored her, and shot another spell at Harry,  who threw himself onto the ground to avoid it. Cursing under her breath in a long-dead language, Bella was forced to back away from Riddle and put herself between the echo and the students. Driven back again and again, eventually she was forced to coil protectively around them, hugging them both tight as dark green scales formed a fortress. Dark curses bounced off her scales, leaving her unscathed, though she winced in pain every time one struck. Riddle cackled venomously, eyes glittering as he pushed closer, searching for a weak point in Bella’s defenses.

 

Harry returned to Ginny’s side, desperately trying to wake her without success. “Come on, Ginny, wake up,” he murmured. Ginny’s eyes fluttered, but she didn’t move. 

Harry heard Bella yell in pain as another blow struck her body, and he felt his own anger rising. What was he supposed to do? Riddle was still incorporeal, nothing could hurt him. But he had to have some sort of physical anchor, something he was vulnerable to.

 

Bella’s coils shifted around them, and Harry’s eyes finally fell on the diary, lying open behind Riddle, and he finally put the pieces together.

“I have to destroy that diary,” Harry realized, “but how?”

 

In desperation, Harry yelled, “Bella, we need to get to the diary! Can you…”

 

He couldn’t finish the thought. What did he want Bella to do? Sacrifice herself? Risk Ginny getting hurt?

 

In the silence, Harry could only hear Riddle’s laughter and Bella’s pained grunts as she protected them. He felt useless, unable to do anything.

 

And then a new sound joined the others in his ear: the most beautiful song he’d ever heard.

Harry had never heard it before, but something tugged his eyes skyward, and he saw a miracle. A phoenix,  Dumbledore’s phoenix, descended from above them, keening a tragic lullaby as it clutched something in its claws.

 

With a jolt, Harry realized that it was the Sorting Hat. He didn’t have time to waste being confused as a rush of relief came through him. Maybe this wasn’t over.  Then, Riddle yelled something, and Fawkes cried out in midair. Harry realized that the Sorting Hat was slipping from the phoenix’s claws, even as Fawkes struggled mightily against the pull of the spell. At last, the old hat came loose, and fell rapidly towards the echo of Voldemort, seemingly out of reach.

 

But not for Bella. With a cry, the basilisk lamia uncoiled herself and leapt upwards, seizing the Sorting Hat just before it could fall into Riddle’s hands. Riddle cast another curse, and Bella yelled in pain; the sound tore at Harry’s heart. 

But Bella held onto the old hat, even if she had to clamp it between her teeth as another one of Riddle’s spells made her hands go numb. Bella raced back to Harry’s side. Urgently, she told him, “Harry, use this. I’ll distract him.”

 

“Use...a hat,” Harry repeated numbly, confused beyond belief. What was the Sorting Hat going to do?

 

“Yes! It will help... they will help,” Bella whispered as a spell sang past them. Then, she had to turn again, to keep Riddle away from the students.

Harry started numbly at the hat in his hands, and decided, “Fuck it, it can’t hurt.”  He put it on, and was rewarded with a heavy object landing on his head.  “Ow!” Harry complained as he reached into the hat...and pulled out a longsword with gleaming rubies in its hilt and a lion on the pommel.

 

Harry couldn’t help the look of wonder that filled his face as he stared at the weapon, the shine of the metal brighter than any he’d ever seen. Something told him that this was exactly what he’d needed.

 

Harry turned back to the battle, where Bella was still trying to keep Riddle distracted, fighting a hopeless fight to buy him time. His eyes fell on the diary, still on the ground, and he raced towards it.

 

“No!” Riddle yelled, but his curse was blocked once again by Bella, who knocked Ginny’s wand from his hands with a well-placed strike of her tail. The wand went spinning away and came clattering down among the rubble that littered the ground. Before Riddle could get it back, Harry had reached the diary.

 

Guided by an instinct he couldn’t place, Harry raised the sword above the diary in a two-handed grip, the point unwavering above its open pages.

Just before he plunged it downwards, Harry’s eyes met Riddle’s. He saw nothing there but rage and disbelief, and he didn’t hesitate.

Harry said, “Go to hell.” Then, he stabbed the diary with all his might. 

 

There was an explosion of magic that sent Harry flying, as Riddle screamed and dissolved, ink covering the ground as the echo died. Riddle had no last words, no dying curse; he just came apart like smoke in the wind, and then was forgotten.

Panting, Harry propped himself up with the sword he’d pulled from nowhere, and looked up into Bella’s eyes. He asked, “Did..did we just win?”

Bella’s response was a cry of happiness and relief as she raced across the broken ground to sweep him into a desperate hug. Harry groaned as her strong arms squeezed his ribcage, only for that groan to get cut off when Bella’s hug pushed him in between the soft mounds of her breasts.

 

Harry went rigid, trying desperately to ignore how much he enjoyed the feel of being suffocated between Bella’s boobs. He told himself, “She’s a snake. She’s a snake. She’s a bloody snake.” It didn’t work, especially when Bella released him from tit prison and mashed a frantic, unthinking kiss to his lips. Harry couldn’t help but return it, stunned by her forwardness and excitement.

At last, Bella let him go, and instantly turned bright red. It was a few seconds before either of them could look the other in the eye. When they could, Bella cheered, “We did it, Harry! We actually did it!”

 

“Yes,” a new voice agreed from nowhere, “yes you did. And we are so proud of you.”

 

Harry and Bella whirled to face that voice, which turned out to belong to a man with a thin, aristocratic face and long goatee. His body vanished into flowing robes, and he was beaming in happiness. He was also slightly blue and translucent, though Bella didn’t seem to care that much as she slumped in Harry’s arms, crying openly as she said, “Papa?”

 

“Hello, sweetie,” replied Salazar Slytherin, his own eyes shimmering with ghostly tears, “it’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

Chapter 9

Chapter by ColdLuigi

As soon as she saw the ethereal form of her adopted father, Bella tore herself from Harry’s arms, racing across the twisted and broken floor of the chamber.  She cried, “Papa! It’s been so long!”

 

Salazar’s smile grew sadder as Bella reached him, only for her hands to pass uselessly through his chest. Bella looked down at her empty arms, then back up at the somber form of the man who had raised her. She whispered, “What? I...why... Papa?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Salazar told her gently, “I wish I could hold you, too...but I can’t.”

 

Tears began to slip down Bella’s cheeks, a strange mix of human and snake as she slumped down in front of the ghost of her father. In a choked, trembling voice, she asked, “H-how long? How long was I gone?”

 

“You were asleep for nine hundred years,” Salazar replied softly, “At first, it was...it was because we didn’t want you to see us die; but Parseltongue was outlawed, labeled Dark and forbidden, and so...nobody could wake you up again.”

 

Bella was openly crying now, deep sobs wracking her body as she mourned the family she’d never known she’d lost. She said, “Papa, I...I failed you. I let that man control me, I hurt the students.”

 

Salazar floated down until he was again on eye-level with Bella. Resting a ghostly hand on her shoulder, he assured her, “You never failed me, Bella. It wasn’t your fault that that man twisted my creation to his evil whims. And you won in the end, Bella. You kept your promise, and you beat my bastard of a descendant.”

 

“Please,” a new voice added, gruff, deep, but not unkind, “that piece of shit doesn’t deserve to claim a damn thing from ye, least of all your blood. And ye gods, Bella, you’ve grown so much!”   Bella’s eyes went wide as she twisted rapidly towards the ghostly form of Godric Gryffindor, who was floating just a few feet away. Just like Salazar, he looked just like Bella remembered him, with a powerful build, long beard, and checkered kilt. Even the ghostly version of his legendary sword was strapped to his back, while the real version remained clutched in the slack grip of Harry, who was watching the whole scene in disbelief.

 

Bella cried, “Dad, you’re here, too!”

 

“Course I am,” Godric scoffed, “it takes more than death to keep this wizard down.”  As he spoke, Godric came closer and tried to approximate a hug with his incorporeal body, surrounding Bella with the forms of her fathers just like the old days.

 

The word “death” made Bella flinch again, and Salazar shot a warning glare at Godric, who shrugged apologetically. Bella asked, “W-Wait, if you...if you’re... gone, how are you still here?”

Softly, Salazar answered, “We were the first ghosts of Hogwarts, Bella. We left so much of ourselves in this place, had so much work left to do, that we chose to stay behind and watch over it.”

 

Bella hung her head in lingering grief. “So...you’re not really gone?” she wondered, her voice rising hopefully.

 

“Would we be talkin’ to ye if we were?” Godric pointed out, “We stay hidden, most of the time, but we’re always here. Ye aren’t alone, Bella.”

 

Bella’s eyes went wide as she came to another realization. She asked, “A...a few times, I could have sworn I heard your voice, Papa. Was that...really you?”

 

His eyes brimming with pained tears, Salazar nodded as he responded, “Yes, Bella. It hurt so badly to see you fighting that man’s control...I kept trying to help, trying to reach out to you…”

 

Godric put a rough hand on Salazar’s shoulder as the thinner man hung his head in sorrow, while Bella did the same. “Oi, that’s all in the past,” he reminded them both.

 

Bella managed to perk up again. “Yeah, you’re right!” she agreed, “and...there’s someone I want you to meet!”

 

Salazar and Godric exchanged grim, ominous looks as they followed Bella’s turn. The lamia pointed at Harry, who was staring with wide-eyed shock at the ghosts of two of the Founders.

Bella said, “This is Harry! He saved me from that man’s control!”

 

Salazar and Godric shared yet another ominously silent exchange as they stared Harry down.

At last, Salazar said, “Yes, we’re very aware of exactly what he did.”

 

The words were enough to snap Harry out of his confusion. He said, “Um, I’m sorry, Lord Slytherin, Lord Gryffindor, but I’m afraid I...don’t get what’s going on.”

 

“What’s going on,” Salazar replied, “is that you used a soul-binding spell on my adopted daughter.”

 

Harry flinched as Godric cracked his ghostly knuckles. “Um, I’m really sorry about that,” Harry told the ghosts of two of the greatest wizards who had ever lived, “it was an accident, and I didn’t really know what the spell did…”

 

Salazar rolled his eyes and told Godric, “See, this is why he’s in your house. Only your students would find an old, clearly dangerous spell in a book and cast it for the first time in the middle of a battle.”

 

Godric countered, “Hey, go a little easy on the boy. He did save Bella.”

 

“Yeah, but you know what the effect is going to be!” Salazar replied in a heated voice, making Harry tense up.

 

“Sure,” Godric admitted, “but Bella’s not a slave, and you know it. Honestly, the boy might well be perfect for her anyway.”  Bella and Harry both tilted their heads in confusion, not knowing what Godric meant. 

 

Salazar held his best friend’s gaze for a moment, then dropped it and grumbled, “I still don’t like it. Bella may have grown up, but…”

 

“But you still see her as your little girl?” Godric guessed, a teasing grin on his face.

 

Salazar nodded silently, pressing his lips tightly together as he slowly floated over to his adopted daughter. Gently, he asked, “Bella...do you trust Harry?”

 

Blinking in surprise at the question, Bella still answered immediately, “I do.”

 

“Why?” Salazar pressed.

 

Harry watched as Bella glanced back at him, a tender yet unreadable look in her eyes. After a moment, she responded, “He saved me, and helped me protect the students, and...and he’s a good man, I can tell.”

 

“Do you want to stay with him?” Salazar asked.  

 

Bella’s reaction deeply confused Harry. Even as she looked deeply confused, a blush spread across her cheeks until they were almost as red as her hair. “I...I do,” she admitted, “wherever he goes, I want to follow.”

 

Salazar stared evenly at Bella for a long moment, and she met his gaze more steadily than she’d thought herself able to. At last, Salazar hung his head and sighed tiredly, “Merlin damn it, I never could deny you the things you want, could I?”

 

“Does that mean you’ll let me go with him?” Bella asked, excitement welling up inside her. She’d been trapped down here for so long...she wanted to see the students again, have them be excited to see her. She wanted to bask in the sun again, play on the grounds, and enjoy being free. But most of all...she wanted to do all of those things with Harry. She couldn’t quite place what she was feeling, not yet, but she knew he was a safe place for her.

 

“It’s not about whether I’ll let you do anything,” Salazar replied somberly, “you’re free to make your own choice, whatever it is. I don’t like the circumstances...but it’s not up to me, and he does seem like a good man.”

 

“Yay!” Bella cheered, trying and failing to hug Salazar once again, much to their chagrin.

Meanwhile, Godric marched over to Harry (how a ghost could march, Harry didn’t know, but Godric managed it). The powerfully-built man’s eyes seared right through Harry, leaving him feeling like a piece of meat being carved apart.  Godric circled Harry once, then twice. At last, he came to a stop in front of Harry, and Harry tried not to wilt in terror.  With his arms crossed over his chest, Godric said, “That’s my sword you’ve got there, laddie.”

 

Harry had completely forgotten he was still holding the sword, and he glanced down at it in shock, stammering, “Oh, uh, sorry, sir, I didn’t realize...I can give it back?“

 

Godric held up a hand, and Harry shut up. With a strange twinkle in his eye and a smile threatening to break through his glowering expression, Godric told him, “Nah, laddie, keep it.”

 

“But it’s yours,” Harry protested, “I just...pulled it out of a hat!”

 

“Which means you’re worthy to wield it,” Godric replied, “there aren’t many people who can say that.  Besides, it’s not like I need the bloody thing now, anyway.”  Godric gestured to his translucent form, and Harry relaxed a little. Maybe this wouldn’t go badly after all.  Then, Godric continued, “Of course, you’re also weak, scrawny, pathetic, and yer form with the bloody blade is awful. I’ve seen babies with more wrist strength than ye!”

 

Harry flinched a little, then muttered, “It’s not like I’ve gotten any bloody training or anything, what do you expect?”

 

“I heard that!” Godric barked, the irritation in his tone at odds with the amused twinkle in his eyes, “and what are ye talking about? I made sure there were mandatory swordfighting classes on the Hogwarts curriculum!”

 

“Um...I’m pretty sure there aren’t anymore,” Harry replied helpfully, still very confused.

 

“Dammit, what kind of idiot would get rid of swordfighting class?” Godric wondered, thinking for a moment, before turning around and yelling, “Oi, Sally, when did they get rid of swordfighting class?”

 

“Four centuries ago,” Salazar called back in a dry, amused tone.

Godric turned back around, looking so comically irritated that Harry swore he was pouting. The bearded man grumbled, “God, it was like yesterday! I loved swordfighting class, dammit! Why did they get rid of it?”

 

From across the Chamber, Salazar replied, “I believe it was because of the astronomical death rate.”

 

Godric’s pout only got deeper as he muttered, “Bloody spoilsports.”

 

Harry almost felt more at ease around Godric after that, though he still felt a little like he was being dissected. Eventually, he asked, “So, um, are you still mad about the whole spell thing?”

Godric raised a bushy eyebrow as he replied, “Nah. I can tell you didn’t mean any harm by it. And besides, it did set Bella free, so...you’re alright in my book. Just...treat her right, or else.”

Harry shivered in dread from the tone of Godric’s voice, even though he wasn’t quite sure what the Founder meant. 

 

Still, Harry did nod and promise, “I will.”  It was better to be safe than sorry, probably.

 

Godric nodded in satisfaction, and laid a hand on the space over Harry’s shoulder. With a bright, easy smile on his face, Godric said, “Take care, Potter. You’re a true member of my House. I’ll be keeping an eye on ye, and on that redheaded friend of yours, the one that’s already managed to get himself a pretty spider wife.”

 

Surprised, Harry blurted out, “Wait, you know about that?”

 

Godric threw his head back and guffawed loudly, then said, “Boy, we see everything that goes down in this castle. Keep that in mind when you and Bella are…well, I’m not gonna go there, actually.”

 

Behind him, Salazar dropped the death glare that he’d been aiming at his best friend and told him, “Good plan. Now, why don’t you go say goodbye to Bella?”

 

“Wait, you guys are leaving?” Harry asked, hoping that they wouldn’t hurt Bella so badly all over again.

 

“For now,” Salazar confirmed, “or rather, we just need to make sure we become invisible to everyone again before you get that girl out of here and back to the surface. We don’t need everyone freaking out because we’ve suddenly revealed ourselves.”

 

As he spoke, Salazar gestured to where Ginny was slowly stirring nearby, clutching her head and seemingly not knowing where she was.

 

Harry nodded, deciding that Salazar’s reasons for preferring to remain unseen made sense. He asked, “But...you will still be around, right? Bella...I don’t want her to never see you guys again.”

 

Something softened in Salazar’s expression then, as he replied, “You’re a considerate man, Mister Potter. Perhaps Godric is right, and you will be good for Bella.”

 

“Um...thank you, sir,” Harry said awkwardly, not quite sure what to say, “I’ll do my best to...help everyone get used to her.”

 

Salazar nodded grimly as he sighed, “Alas, she’ll need it. Attitudes towards her kind have...changed significantly since our day, and for the worse. Doubtless, there will be more like her. Actually, that brings me to what I was hoping to speak to you about. You see, I have two requests for you.”

 

Harry’s eyes went wide at that, but he quickly replied, “Of course I’ll help, sir. What do you need?”

 

“Spoken like a true Gryffindor,” Salazar said with a smile.

 

“You’re damn right!” Godric called from where he and Bella were engaged in an extended ghostly hug.

 

Salazar laughed, then sombered again as he regarded Harry. Softly, he began, “My first request is...take good care of Bella for me. I...didn’t get to watch her grow up, not as much as I wanted to. But maybe...maybe I can watch her be happy.”

 

Harry nodded gravely, wondering what exactly the two Founders meant by all of these strange references to him and Bella. “I’ll do my best,” Harry promised.

 

“I know you will,” Salazar said almost... approvingly? 

 

Huh. Maybe Harry was actually growing on him.  Salazar’s expression soured further when Harry asked, “Uh, what’s your second request, sir?”

 

“My second request,” Salazar answered with an expression like he had stepped in a pile of kelpie dung, “concerns the school house that bears my name.”

 

Harry couldn’t help but tense up. Honestly, the more he’d spoken to Salazar Slytherin, the more confused he’d become. How had this soft-spoken, intelligent, and seemingly warm man founded a house of cruel, monstrous purebloods who were evil by nearly any metric but their own?

“I don’t need to guess what you’re thinking, Potter. Slytherin House has become...a plague on this institution in many ways,” Salazar admitted.  Harry tried to argue, but he thought of Draco’s taunts against Hermione, the slurs, the threats, the hate spewed almost blindly by nearly every member of the house, and he found that he couldn’t.  “I don’t know if it can be redeemed, not truly,” Salazar admitted, “but...I’m not going to concern you with the regrets of an old man. I want you to worry about the ones who can still be saved.”

 

“What do you mean, sir?” Harry asked.

 

Salazar replied, “Believe it or not, Potter, there are those in Slytherin House who do not truly believe the poisons they spew. They go along with it out of fear, or ambition, or simply because it’s what they’ve known all their lives, and they can’t imagine another way of life.”

 

Harry felt his heart twinge with sympathy at that, but he was still confused. He asked, “What am I supposed to do? How can I help with that?”

 

Salazar’s expression was distant and thoughtful; he seemed to run through centuries of faces and names in a few moments, perhaps wondering who could have been saved if he had not been so blind. Eventually, he told Harry, “I want you to keep an open mind. I want you to understand the reasons people can be cruel, and...if someone, anyone, even someone you have every reason to hate, tries to break free of their path and choose a new one, I want you to be there, able to see the face of someone who needs help to see a better option, and not the crest on their robes. Can you do that for me?”

 

Harry took a deep breath. It went against so many of his instincts, of the things he thought made him a Gryffindor, but then...helping people was something that every house should idealize, wasn’t it?

 

Harry nodded, and agreed, “I will, sir.”

 

Salazar smiled brightly this time, a look of relief and hope after years of despair. “Thank you,” he said in a voice that was layered with a hundred different emotions.

Then, Salazar moved out of the way, and Harry saw Bella in front of him. Once again, he felt his breath desert him as he saw just how beautiful she was, how her eyes shimmered with mischief and kindness and ferocity all at once. Bella’s stare seemed to linger, too, and for a moment, they didn’t say a word.  Then, at last, the spell broke, and Bella asked, “So, are we ready to get out of here?”

 

Shaking his head a few times to clear the last of the strange fog in his mind, Harry replied, “Er, yeah, good idea. Although...how are we going to do that?”

 

Bella grinned, and turned around, making Harry realize again just how perfect her very bare curves were. She said, “You’re going to ride me, obviously!”

 

For a heartbeat, Harry could only swallow dryly, feeling his cheeks heat up. At last, he gathered himself, and told her, “Okay. I’ll get Ginny.”  A minute later, Harry and a barely-revived Ginny were clinging onto Bella’s tail for dear life as she began to leave through one of the massive pipes that ringed the walls of the Chamber. Salazar and Godric waved as they left, more hopeful for their adopted daughter’s future than ever.

 

When they were gone, Salazar sighed, “I wish Helga and Rowena had showed up.”

 

“Me too,” Godric agreed, “but they said they were busy comforting a student.”

 

Salazar looked up in abrupt shock. “Wait, they revealed themselves?” he asked in disbelief.

 

Godric replied, “No, it’s the spooky lass who can see us anyway, remember? Her granddaughter?”

 

Salazar’s eyes went wide, and he nodded in understanding. “Ah, I remember now,” he mused, “yes, I’d imagine that she’s quite distraught right now, what with the person she loves being missing from the school.”

 

“Yeah,” Godric responded, “but it worked out alright, didn’t it? Bravery...and some cunning, of course...won the day!”

 

Salazar just sighed in resignation at his friend’s antics, while his eyes wandered the chamber he had built as a refuge for Bella all those centuries ago.  Suddenly, his eyes landed on a specific feature of the chamber, and he stiffened in rage.

 

In a low, dangerous voice, Salazar hissed, “Why is there a gigantic carving of my face in here? That’s just...ridiculous! I would never put something like that in my own daughter’s home! I swear, if Riddle did this, I’m going to-“

 

“Oh, no, that wasn’t Riddle,” Godric interrupted with a wry grin and a chuckle, “that was me. I snuck in here after you finished building the place and left my own touch.”

 

Salazar rounded on his friend, fury written on his face. “You bastard!” he shouted, “you didn’t even get my face right!”

 

Utterly unperturbed, Godric replied, “Of course I did. Just because you don’t like to admit that your nose is that big doesn’t mean it isn’t.”

 

Mystified, Salazar raised a translucent hand to his face, trying to feel his nose. Of course, that didn’t work, and Salazar ended up snapping, “Oh, aren’t you a regular comedian. I knew I made the right choice, cursing your entire house to be drawn to monstrous women.”

 

Godric just grinned as he retorted, “Wait, that was supposed to be a curse? I’m pretty sure that Potter’s going to be benefiting from that!”

 

“You are the worst,” Salazar muttered, irritated by the mention of their adopted daughter’s soon-to-be mate.

 

“Probably,” Godric agreed, “now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go watch the fireworks up above. And after that...I need to find a bard.”

 

Confused, Salazar asked, “A bard? Why?”

 

“Because, I’m pretty sure Potter’s going to be earning himself a saga pretty soon, when he starts working on making you a grandpa snake,” Godric replied with a grin that bore an uncanny resemblance to the one he’d worn so long ago, when he’d teased Salazar about his theory that Salazar was Bella’s blood father. Then, Godric vanished from sight.

 

“There haven’t been bards in centuries!” Salazar shouted, only to realize that he’d done so to an empty room. With a last grumble about stupid friends and idiot students, he, too, vanished. The chamber was left empty and quiet, a dark shadow lifted from its stones at last.

 

*****

 

The moment that Bella was out of the Chamber, she turned her head to the two students clinging to her tail.  “This isn’t comfortable for you, is it?” she asked.

 

Harry blushed.  “K-kinda… should we just walk?” He stammered, trying hard not to look at her truly divine breasts… her hair that flowed like a waterfall of red… ‘focus!’ he told himself.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said, drooping.  There was a shimmering, and then, Bella had once again become a full-on basilisk.  “Hop on,” she hissed, speaking in English.

 

“I… didn’t know you could speak English in this form…” Harry mutured.  “It would’ve helped in knowing you were enslaved,” he added.

 

The basilisk made a sound that Harry thought was a whimper.  “I… I couldn’t… he… he put a curse on me…” she sniffled.  Harry immediately felt guilty.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” he said, patting her scales.

 

“It’s fine,” she told him.  She continued to slither along, heading towards the cave in.  “What happened here?” she asked.

 

“Professor Lockhart tried to erase me and Ron’s memories,” Harry said.

 

“W-why would he do that!?” Ginny exclaimed.

 

“He admitted he’s a fraud.  He took credit for things others did, and erased their memories,” Harry told her.  Ginny gasped.

 

“W-what happened?” Ginny whispered.

 

“It was strange.  There was nothing, and then the wand turned to ash.  Then, there was this massive explosion and the walls caved in,” Harry told her.

 

Bella stopped her journey.  “The wand… disintegrated?  Into ash?” she asked.

 

“Uhhh… yeah… why?” Harry inquired.

 

“Papa told me about that… it’s very rare for wands to sacrifice themselves like that…”

 

“Sacrifice themselves?  Aren’t they just tools?”

 

Bella turned her head to look at the two.  “Just what ARE they teaching you these days!?” she exclaimed.  “Wand lore was a core class for first years on up!”

 

“There’s a class on wand lore?” Harry asked Ginny.

 

“Dad said it was a NEWT 7th year course…” Ginny said.

 

“Seventh year!?  Wand Lore!?” Bella exclaimed, hissing in anger.  “When I see your current Headmaster I’m going to give them a piece of my mind!” she growled.

 

“So… what does it mean?” Ginny asked.

 

“The spirit of the wand appealed to the personification of Magic HERSELF!” Bella exclaimed.

 

“Magic… is sentient?” Harry whispered.

 

“AAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!” Bella howled in frustration.  “WHAT ARE THEY TEACHING YOU?!  OBVIOUSLY NOTHING!”  The basilisk inhaled, and then exhaled.  “Alright, I’m calm, Master.  There’s no telling what happened.  With that kind of power, reality is erased and rewritten.  This ‘Lockhart’ may no longer exist.  Or he’s now dead.  Or the spell backfired and he’s lost all of his memories.  There’s really no way to tell.”

 

Ginny gulped.  “I- I’m sorry for bringing you all into this…” she sniffled, clutching Harry.  Harry turned around and ruffled her hair.

 

“This wasn’t your fault, Ginny,” he told her.  Before she could say anything else, Bella shimmered, and turned into a lamia again.  Harry blushed and covered his face, trying to hide from the bountiful breasts bouncing by him.  “Y-you need some clothes, Bella…” he told her.

 

Bella looked down, and cupped her breasts.  “Huh.  I guess that my old clothes rotted away… they’re not on me…” Bella began to sniffle.  “Helena made those for me…”  Harry patted her tail, and the three continued to the collapsed area.

 

“RON!” Harry shouted.

 

“Harry!  You’re alright!  Is Ginny OK?!” Ron shouted from behind the rocks.

 

“She’s alright!” Harry called.

 

“What about the basilisk?” Roon inquired.

 

Harry looked at Bella.  “...It turns out she was just as much of a victim as Ginny was…” he said.

 

There was a pause.  “What?”

 

“Just help me move the rocks and you’ll see!” Harry told him.  “Hey, what happened with Professor Lockhart?”

 

“Reality warped to make him not a fraud,” Ron responded.

 

“I still can’t believe that I was, apparently, a glory hound who stole fame from others.  I didn’t even want fame!” a rougher version of Lockhart’s voice cried out.

 

“Welcome to the club, Professor,” Harry deadpanned, moving some rocks.  Eventually, thanks to Bella’s strength, they managed to part the rocks so that someone could squeeze through.  Ginny went first.  Then he did.  Finally, it was Bella’s turn.  She got stuck thanks to her sizable assets, but Harry managed to pull her through.

 

“Ah, a Lamia.  How interesting.  I thought they only lived in Nevada these days,” Lockhart mused.

 

“A Lamia?  Those exist?” Harry exclaimed.

 

“Indeed.  Once they mingled with humans, but after a brutal extermination campaign in the early 1800s, they were forced to the United States, which was the only magical government that offered them refuge,” Lockarrt explained.

 

Harry gained a horrified look.  “W-why!?”  Bella was also tearing up.  Why had the Wizards tried to wipe her kind out!?

 

To Harry’s surprise, Ron was growling.  “Several Pureblood men and women had tried to marry them, but they had all refused, citing that their blood was rotten.  Thus, they petitioned the Ministries to exterminate them.”

 

Lockhart nodded.  “Many families, however, didn’t go along.  If memory serves, the Weasley family was the keystone of getting the surviving British Lamia across the Ocean,” Lockhart added.

 

“It was the right thing to do,” Ron said.  Bella gave him a hug, pressing her breasts against him.

 

“So, Harry… feel free to tell me what happened,” Ron said.  “But first, we need to get out of here.  Any ideas?”

 

Fawks then chipped, and landed. 

 

“Dumbledore’s Phoenix?  Well, that’s our ticket out of here.  Grab hold of him, and he’ll take us to the Headmaster’s office,” Lockhart instructed.  Everyone grabbed on, and Fawks took to the sky, not even slowing down with the extra weight of his four human and one lamia passengers.  It was even more exhilarating than the slide down, and it was far shorter.  After only fifteen seconds, they landed in Myrtle’s bathroom.

 

“You’re alive!” she gleefully declared.  She then turned to Bella.  “And who are you?”

 

“Myrtle, this is Bella.  She was controlled by Tom Riddle, who was the heir-”

 

“Tommy?!” Myrtle exclaimed.  “He was the heir of Slytherin?!” Myrtle exclaimed in shock.

 

“Something tells me that you knew him…” Ron muttered.

 

“Of course I knew him!  We were friends!” Myrtle said.  “Was… was he just playing me?”

 

Harry felt a spike of anguish, and had no idea where it came from.  “I… I don’t think so,” he said.  “I don’t know how I know, but I’m sure your death wasn’t meant to happen… I saw his memories where he framed Hagrid… he was crying… I’m pretty sure it was an accident.”

 

Bella nodded.  “He tortured me… with a curse… after that attack… said I went after the ‘wrong person…’” Bella admitted.  “However… a week later… he stopped caring… something happened and I don’t know what…”

 

“It doesn't matter now.  All we know is that the attacks are over, and we have to see the Headmaster… if he’s back…” Ron said.

 

Fawks chirped a bit.

 

“It’s more than likely that he is back, Ron,” Harry told his friend.  “If he isn’t, McGonagall will listen, right?”

Chapter 10

Chapter by The_Plauge_Dragon

Summary:

Le discord: https://discord.gg/MEGP4gS

As it turned out, Dumbledore was, in fact, back in his office, along with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Professor McGonagall.  When the group walked into his office, Dumbledore was dumbfounded, and he was not alone.  “So… would anyone care to tell me what, exactly, happened?” he requested.  Before anyone could say anything, both Weasley parents leapt at their daughter.

 

“GINNY!” Mrs. Weasley wept, hugging her daughter like she’d disappear if she let go.  Considering the past 12 hours, no one could blame her.  “Are you alright!?  Who was the heir!?” she exclaimed.  “Harry!  Please tell me- and is that a Lamia!?” she exclaimed, looking at Bella in shock.  “I thought they were all in the US!”

 

“Patience, Molly.  While I know you are distressed and would love nothing more then to find who did this, I have my suspicions.  Harry, please tell us everything, and leave nothing out.”

 

Harry nodded fearfully, and explained everything, from when they entered the chamber, up to when they left.

 

“So Lord Voldemort managed to possess Ginny… even though my sources tell me that his spirit is hiding out in the forests of Albania at the moment,” he said.

 

“Y-you Know W-who P-posessed Ginny?” Mrs. Weasley whispered.  “How!?”

 

“H-his diary!  I-I found it in t-the books Dad bought me… I- I’ve been talking to him!” she sobbed, clutching her parents like she was a young child, not a 14 year old.

 

“Oh Ginny!  Haven’t I taught you anything?!  If something can think for itself, don’t trust it until you see where it keeps its mind!  But… how did it get in her books…” he thought aloud, confused and worried.

 

“Professor McGonagall, Professor Lockhart, will you please excuse us, alert the kitchens for a feast celebrating the triumph of these two Gryffindors, and take Ginny and her parents up to the Hospital wing for a calming draught?  I daresay she needs it.  There is no punishment, as poor Ginny was merely a puppet, possessed by Lord Voldemort.  Older, wiser, and more powerful wizards have fallen prey to his traps, so it makes no sense to punish a first year.  Please leave me, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and… errr… what is your name?” Dumbledore asked the Lamia who everyone had seemed to forget about.

 

“Bella.  Are you the Headmaster?” she asked.

 

Dumbledore nodded.  “Miss Bella may stay as well.  I need to discuss a few things with you three,” he said.  Minerva nodded, and escorted the three Weasleys to the Hospital Wing.  When the door closed, Bella slithered up to Dumbledore, a furious look on her face.

 

“WHY HAS WAND LORE BEEN PUSHED TO SEVENTH YEAR!?” she screamed at him.  “AND WHY DOES NO ONE KNOW MAGIC IS SENTIENT!  WHAT’S NEXT, THE STUDENTS NOT BEING WARNED ABOUT THE FAE!?”

 

“The what?” Harry asked.

 

“AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!” Bella screamed, trying her hardest not to constrict the Headmaster.  Her hands were making grasping motions at the Headmaster.

 

“My dear, please put some clothes on.  While I don't swing that way, I think you are distracting Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore calmly said.  He then waved his wand, and Bella was wearing a shirt that read ‘Mega Snek’.  Harry had to fight down a laugh.

 

“You spelled ‘snake’ wrong,” Bella grumbled.

 

“There is a difference between ‘snake’ and ‘snek’ but that’s not what we’re here to discuss.  What we are here to discuss is the sheer bravery you two have done.  Not only have you risked your lives to save young Ginny, but you risked expulsion due to breaking one hundred and seventy three rules.  I think you two should have special awards for services to the school… and two hundred points to Gryffindor.”

 

“Two hundred?” Ron whispered.

 

“Each,” Dumbledore said.  Ron nearly fainted.  “Yes, it appears that Gryffindor will win the House Cup again this year.  Mr. Weasley, will you take a note to the Owlery, and request our Gamekeeper back from Azkaban?  I’d request not having Hagrid there for a second longer then he has to be there,” Dumbledore instructed him.  Ron nodded, and took off.  Dumbledore then looked at Harry and Bella.  “It shows how different you are from Lord Voldemort that you used such a powerful enslavement ritual and you released this poor soul from Voldemort’s control,’ he said.

 

“Sir?” Harry asked.

 

“I am not blind, Harry.  You have been nervous about your ability to speak Parseltongue for quite some time, have you not?  You wonder if Gryffindor is the right house for you,” Dumbledore mused.

 

“Y-yes, sir…” Harry said.

 

“Well, had Slytherin House been like it was during the Founding, I have no doubt that Salazar would’ve literally fought to have you in his House,” Dumbledore mused.

 

“I met him, sir.  Him and Gryffindor.  Their ghosts talked to me and Bella,” Harry said.

 

“That is rare.  Few students have interacted with the Founders’ ghosts.  I have met them on occasion, but only after I became Headmaster.  Godric has a nasty habit of popping out of toilets right when you’re rushing to the bathroom,” Dumbledore said.  “You have, shall I say, Slytherin’s good traits.  You’re cunning, resourceful, and have a mentality that basically boils down to ‘screw the rules, I’m doing what’s right!’.  Lord Voldemort, who is directly descended from Salazar, has evil versions.  He is cunning in his cruelty, resourceful in his schemes, and has a lust for power that makes him willing to break all rules to fulfill selfish motives.”  Dumbledore paused, and saw Harry’s eyes still filled with worry.  It physically hurt to see him like that.

 

“B-but what about Parseltounge?  H-how can I speak it?”

 

Dumbledore sighed.  He had a theory, and he didn’t like it.  But with the diary… it seemed more and more probable.  He’d have to check.  “Before I answer that, Harry, let me tell you something.  The vast majority of beings, magical or non-magical, have been shades or grey in morality.  Very few are pure evil.  In fact, I have only seen one student who had no shred of goodness in them, and it wasn’t Riddle.”

 

“S-sir… are you saying…”

 

“That there’s a more evil Dark Lord out there?  No.  Last I checked, she was working for the Ministry.  But back to Tom.  Despite what you may think, when he was 11, he was cold and calculating, yes, but he also had a genuine desire to be loved.  Myrtle, a muggle-born who would be sorted into Ravenclaw, was someone he grew close to.  He had already drawn a group of others who he called friends but were more like minions, but I do believe he genuinely cared for her.  In fact, while I did suspect him of opening the chamber, the fact that Myrtle had died threw me off.  After that… that sliver of goodness was crushed inside of him, forced down into the bottom of his soul… until that night in Godric’s Hollow.”

 

“W-what do you mean?” Harry stammered.

 

“That night, when Voldemort attempted to murder an infant- the worst sort of crime against nature a human can do- that sliver of good could no longer remain in him.  So when the spell backfired, that sliver ripped itself from him, and attached itself to you.  I’ve heard rumors that it burns when Voldemort is nearby, or when he’s about to do something.  Perhaps it is because of that small, small portion of him that looks on in horror at what he has become, and is begging you to stop himself.”

 

“V-Voldemort… has a part of him in me?” Harry gagged.

 

“No.  Tom Riddle, the innocent child who was curious and wanted real friends, has a portion of himself in you.  Lord Voldemort does not have a claim to you, Harry.  Never forget that.”

 

Harry remembered something.  “Occasionally… over the past year… I’ve had… bursts of emotion.  When I was facing Voldemort down in the Chambers, I felt an uncontrollable rage, and shouted at him for killing Myrtle.  Additionally, I felt a spike off anguish when Myrtle asked if Voldemort was just using her…”

 

“While I doubt this sliver of soul is intelligent enough to express anything beyond base emotion, take heed, Harry.  Voldemort did not, has not, and will NEVER corrupt you.  You won’t be taken over like poor Ginny.  Your thoughts are your own.  Never forget that.”

 

Before either of them could say anything more, the touching scene was ruined by the door slamming open, bouncing off the wall.  Lucius Malfoy strode in, and behind him, much to Harry’s shock was Dobby.  Bella slithered in front of Harry, arms spread in a protective stance.

 

“So you’ve returned, and brought that thing with you,” he spat, nudging in the general direction fo Bella.

 

“Dear, dear, Lucius.  Is that how you treat a basilisk?” Dumbledore inquired.

 

The Malfoy Patriarch nearly choked on his own spit.  “What?!”

 

“It seems that the basilisk herself was as much of a victim as any of the petrified students,” Dumbledore explained.  “Additionally, I know you’d love to hear my excuse as to why I have returned.  You see, after the news that Arthur Weasley’s daughter had been taken, the other Governors sent me an entire flock of owls, begging me to return.  Eight of them mentioned that you had threatened to curse their families had they not agreed to suspend me in the first place.  And worry not, Lucius.  The culprit has been caught.”

 

“I… see,” the pure-blood said after a pause.  “Who was it?”

 

“It was the same person as last time.  Only this time, Lord Voldemort was acting through his diary, possessing a student to do his dirty work for him.  Said student is, of course, distraught, but those used against their will aren’t guilty,” Dumbledore said, eyes glaring at Malfoy while holding up the destroyed diary.  Harry, meanwhile, was watching Dobby.  The House Elf was pointing at Lucius, the Diary, and then beating himself, as if he had done something he shouldn’t have.  It took all of three seconds for Harry to figure it out.

 

Dumbledore continued.  “Young Ms. Weasley claims to have found the diary in her school books.  It is likely that someone close to Lord Voldemort set her up.  It would’ve been horrible if Voldemort wasn’t exposed.  Poor Ginny would’ve taken the blame, and Arthur’s Muggle Protection Act would’ve never passed.”

 

“Unfortunate indeed,” Lucius growled.

 

“I think I know how it got there,” Harry suddenly said.

 

“Oh?” Dumbledore inquired.

 

“I think Lucius put it there when he and Mr. Weasley had that fight.  You slipped it into her cauldron as a petty revenge scheme against the Weasleys.”

 

“Prove it,” the wealthy pureblood snarled.

 

“Oh, no one will be able to, Lucius.  Not now that Lord Voldemort has been removed from the diary.  However, it boggles the mind as to why he would entrust something of this level of power to someone who he bewitched, instead of someone who followed him of their own free will.  Either way, I would suggest not handing out his old school objects, because if you do such a thing, and threaten my students again, I will utterly destroy you, and your family’s standing.  Are we clear?”

 

Harry felt the raw power coming from the old Headmaster.  He had a kindly smile, but his eyes were steely, like he was daring Lucius to say anything else.

 

“Dobby, we’re going!” Lucius barked, turning away from the three.  Harry suddenly had an idea that would serve to humiliate the man even further

 

“Professor, may I return the diary to him?” Harry asked.

 

Dumbeldore had a knowing smile on his face.  “Oh, please do, Harry.  But do remember the feast.  I’ll also alert the prefects that the lockdown has been lifted”  Harry nodded, pulled off one of his socks, stuffed the diary inside, and sprinted after Draco’s father.  “Mr. Malfoy, this belongs to you,” he said with the utmost sincerity, handing the filthy sock to him.

 

“How dare you!” the man growled, ripping the sock off.  “You have no IDEA who you are insulting!  One word from me, and you’ll be in Azkaban!” he spat.  He flung the sock away in disgust.  “I eagerly await the day when you meet the same end as your mudblood mother and blood-traitor father… Dobby!  Come!”

 

“...Master has given Dobby a sock…” the Elf said.

 

“What?!  I didn’t-” Lucius’ eyes widened, and saw Dobby holding Harry’s sock like a priceless gem.

 

“Dobby is free!  Dobby is free!” Dobby cheered, tears of joy rolling down his face.

 

“You.. YOU TOOK MY SLAVE FROM ME YOU BRAT!” Lucius howled in fury, losing his composure at this final insult.  Dobby snapped his fingers, and Lucius was thrown back.

 

“You… dare…”

 

“Dobby dares… Dobby also wants to try out several curses on his old master if his old master does not leave.  NOW.”  Lucius saw the downright vengeful look in the House Elf’s eyes, and briskly walked away, almost breaking into a run.  When he was out of sight, Dobby turned to Harry in awe.  “Great Harry Potter has freed Dobby!  Dobby can never repay this debt!” the Elf exclaimed.

 

“Just… please don’t try to save my life again like you did this year,” Harry asked.

 

“Yes, yes!  Dobby wouldn’t need to, either, now that Harry Potter has the basilisk on his side!  Dobby wishes Harry Potter luck!”  With another snap of his fingers, Dobby disappeared.

 

*****

 

Ginny let her parents bring her down to the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey tut-tutted and settled her into a bed. Honestly, she didn’t really have the strength to fight it, or to disagree with her mother as she sobbed, “Ginny, how could you have been so foolish ?” 

 

“I’m sorry, mom,” Ginny managed to croak, “I know I messed up.” 

 

“Hush, sweetie,” her father said soothingly, “you made a mistake, but you’re okay now. Just rest for a while.” 

 

Ginny would have, but honestly, her head was kind of a scary place right now. Huge sections of it felt like they had been...torn through, almost, like a clawed beast had ripped through the pages of a book, taking what it wanted and leaving destruction behind. And if Ginny closed her eyes, she could still see Tom’s face, hear his laughter as he dragged her into the Chamber. Ginny was a mess, basically. Wracked with guilt over the people she’d hurt, including Harry’s friend. He must hate her now, right? He’d barely looked at her on the...ride...up from the Chamber, even though he’d saved her life. As much as Ginny couldn’t help but feel her crush grow stronger, she also wondered if her foolishness in getting her brain hijacked by a Dark artifact had made her even more useless in his eyes. And of course, now Ginny was lying helpless in a medical bed, barely able to move or think, with her parents staring down at her with sympathetic, pitying, gentle eyes, telling her that of course everything was going to be alright! It made her want to scream. Didn’t they know she was guilty? She’d hurt all those people, been saved from being a murderer by luck! Of course things weren’t going to be alright! She could still feel Tom in her head, laughing at her!

 

Ginny knew he was gone, that he was Voldemort, that he’d nearly sucked her soul out until Harry had killed him with a sword like a hero from one of her stories. But his presence remained, in the shape of the holes in her memory, in the filth she felt on her soul, in the nightmares that snuck up on her every time she closed her eyes. All Ginny wanted right now was for someone to talk to her who didn’t have to understand, who wasn’t obligated to love her. Maybe she could trust them to tell her that things weren’t alright. 

 

Just then, she heard a low hissing, thrumming sound. Her skin prickled, hair standing up as a profound sense of danger-danger-wrong-bad seemed to steal her thoughts away, good and bad. Her parents could feel it too, Ginny could tell; their eyes widened, they shifted uncomfortably. Her father stood, his eyes hardening until Ginny remembered that he’d fought in a war, once. 

 

Her mother asked, “What’s going on? Where’s that coming from?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Ginny’s father replied, “but I’m going to-“ 

 

“Mom, Dad, it’s okay,” Ginny said weakly as the prickling sensation got stronger and the hissing got louder, “she’s probably just upset, that’s all.” 

 

Her parents turned to her, their expressions full of concern. Her mother prompted, “Ginny, who’s causing this? Is this connected to what happened to...you?” Ginny shook her head, a move that was more tiring than it ever should have been. 

 

She assured her parents, “No, this is just...a friend of mine. Dad, could you get the door for her? She doesn’t like opening them.” 

 

“Why would someone dislike doors?” her father wondered aloud, wrinkling his nose. He did what Ginny asked, though, pulling the large metal bolt aside and opening the door wide. He began, “Hello, can I help yo-“ 

 

“ Tell me where she is, worm. Now,” a voice commanded, a voice that sent shivers down Ginny’s spine.

 

It was ethereal and inhuman, lilting like music that humans should never have heard, burbling like water running in a brook. It was a thousand sounds and none of them, and it sent Arthur Weasley scrambling backwards, fumbling for his wand. He stammered, “W-whatever you are, get away!” 

 

The voice, whatever it was, didn’t even respond to him. Instead, the sound of footsteps (had there been footsteps before? If so, Ginny hadn’t heard them) echoed through the room, as the being the voice belonged to finally entered, revealing itself as… At first, Ginny could only focus on parts of the figure, thanks to her exhaustion and semi-consciousness. The figure was a young woman, Ginny’s age, slightly taller than Ginny with strawberry-blonde hair. That hair was currently floating, though, raised up in a staticky halo around her head, moving with no regard for wind or force. Raw magic radiated off of the girl, filling the room with an ominous air and the odd thrumming hiss that didn’t seem to come from her mouth, or be within the range of the human voice-yet it was a voice, it had to be. Her blue eyes flashed and sparked with wild, untamed feeling, seemingly depicting a different disaster in each strangled heartbeat; a forest fire one second, a lightning storm the next, an icy blizzard after that. The girl’s eyes landed on Ginny, who smiled as widely as she could under the circumstances. The terrifying, menacing girl strode closer, ignoring Ginny’s mother. 

 

Slowly, she raised a hand, and Ginny could have sworn she saw tiny, fragmentary ripples trail from each finger, pure black at the center like a tiny black hole, a rip in the very fabric of reality that collapsed back in on itself as the girl moved. Her strange, turnip-like earrings spun helplessly in the forceful breeze the girl created with her very presence. At last, the girl was standing over Ginny. Ginny managed to look her in those endless, apocalyptic eyes, and smiled as she asked, “Hey, Luna, how’s it going?”

Chapter 11

Ginny could feel her parents giving her looks of disbelief, but the redhead only had eyes for the girl in front of her, whose very presence seemed to send mad whispers into the ears of every person around.

 

Ginny’s closest friend replied in a voice like whispering thunder, “ You. Are you still walking among these fleeting beings?”  

 

“Yeah, Luna, I’m still alive,” Ginny confirmed, “I’m...not feeling so hot, though.” 

 

“ Your very soul is…mangled. I can taste its cries on my tongue,” Luna agreed with a nod as she sat down, the waves of magic coming off of her never slowing or relenting. 

 

Ginny rolled her eyes as Luna’s remarkably cold hand covered hers and replied, “Yeah, I know, I know, I’m sorry for not trusting you about the book.” 

 

“ I warned you,” Luna reminded her, “ I told you that it contained only darkness, and still you went looking. You are an insolent fool, and I will ensure that you experience a THOUSAND- Ginny, I’m so glad you’re okay!” 

 

Ginny’s parents blinked in complete and utter confusion as, without warning, every bit of the terrifying aura disappeared from the blonde girl, and in an instant she resembled a perfectly normal Hogwarts first year, albeit one with exceptionally strange turnip-earrings and a slightly vacant stare. Ginny, however, didn’t seem to notice the shift at all. Instead, she told Luna, “I’m sorry. I’m...I’m just glad I’m still here. It was...really scary, Luna.” 

 

Luna nodded gently and reassuringly. Stroking Ginny’s hand with her own, she replied, “I’m glad you’re still here, too, Ginny. If you had died, I would have cursed your spirit to wander the endless netherworld for a thousand thousand years.” Molly and Arthur watched in existential confusion as their daughter threw her head back and laughed, as her bizarre, occasionally terrifying friend asked, “What? Was something I said funny?” The two Weasley parents exchanged a look, and agreed that some things were best left undiscussed. At least their daughter had a friend to help her through her healing.

 

*****

 

The Slytherin common room was humming with energy, even after McGonagall had ordered everyone out of the halls, ringing with sniggers and hushed conversations that everyone seemed to be engaged in. The mood was high, almost smug, as though they’d achieved something. In the middle of the room, Draco Malfoy held court, his circle of closest sycophants laughing around him as they praised the Heir.

 

“I tell you, they’ve finally done it!” Draco announced, “first the Mudbloods, now they’re gunning for blood traitors! Well done, well bloody done! I hope they go for the rest of the Weasleys next, or maybe that freaky spider girl Weasley’s fucking!”

 

Even upperclassmen laughed along, some out of genuine agreement, others out of fear. It was impossible to tell which was which, though; here, everyone’s face was schooled into perfect masks, expressions that could go blank in an instant.  Nobody in this room thought they had anything to fear from the Heir, after all. Mudbloods and most half-bloods didn’t last long in Slytherin, and everyone who survived had unimpeachable (and inbred) bloodlines.

 

Daphne watched it all from her spot by the window, a place she’d claimed because it was quiet and she had her back to the wall. You never knew when someone would attack you, not in here.  That was the way of the world, she supposed. Either you were the aggressor or the victim. And Daphne was not a victim.  She laughed along, as expected of a pureblood heiress of the Ancient House of Greengrass; maybe she even believed it. It fit with everything she’d ever learned, after all, the worldview she’d been shown for as long as she could remember.

 

But still, some tiny part of her held her back from losing herself in the mob. A voice whispered, “Someone is dead, you monsters.”

 

She quashed the voice, the weakness. Show any chink in your armor in Slytherin, and someone would find it. Show sympathy for blood traitors, Mudbloods, or lesser humanoids, and your life was almost certainly over.

 

At that moment, Tracey Davis slipped into the common room, having been in the library, further from the dungeons, when the lockdown went into effect. She quickly crossed the room to Daphne, her closest ally in the pit. (Not friend, Daphne reminded herself, Slytherins and pureblood heiresses didn’t have friends.)

 

Tracey slipped into the chair across the small table from Daphne, smiling lightly.  That irritated Daphne. Tracey had always been bad at concealing her emotions; she was honestly not very good at the great political game that was Slytherin House.  But she was reliable, and relatively trustworthy, and Daphne had known her since they were both children imagining sparks flying from their palms. Their families were close allies; if one of them had been male, there might have been talk of a betrothal. But as it was, they were a team, the closest thing to an ironclad relationship you could get in the world of pureblood politics.

 

“How bad is it out there?” Daphne asked the shorter girl.

 

Tracey frowned, gathering her thoughts for a second. She replied, “Bad. I ran into Snape patrolling the halls. He nearly hexed me when I accidentally snuck up on him. I don’t think they’ve found the Weasley girl or the Chamber yet.”

 

Daphne said, “What are the odds they find her alive, do you think?”

 

“Low, probably. Lockhart’s full of shit, at least Dumbledore would have had the strength to fight whatever Slytherin’s monster is,” Tracey answered, shaking her head grimly. 

 

Daphne looked around furtively; nobody appeared to have heard Tracey’s borderline heresy, they were too busy laughing as Draco impersonated one of the petrified victims.  She hissed, “Trace, don’t say things like that! You know Dumbledore is a traitor to everything Magical Britain should be!”

 

“Of course he is,” Tracey replied, “but you can’t deny the man has power. Even the Dark Lord was scared of him!”

 

“Be that as it may, you can’t just go around praising the man now that we’re finally rid of him,” Daphne told her, even as she suppressed her own wish that they had the capable, steady Dumbledore right now, “now, is there anything else you heard?”  

 

Information was power, and if there was one thing Daphne’s family had drilled into her head, it was that a true pureblooded witch always had to be ready to use whatever means available to improve her own standing. Knowing more about events outside of this room gave her an advantage over the others in her House.

 

Tracey slowly nodded and said, “Yeah, apparently Potter and the Weasley that’s always following him around are missing, too.”

 

“Off on a grand adventure to save Weasley’s sister, no doubt,” Daphne decided, “who knows, maybe they’ll find another subhuman for them to add to their collection.”

 

Tracey let out an undignified snort and added, “Knowing them, they’ll win somehow, too.”

 

“Please, they’re second years up against Slytherin’s Monster,” Daphne laughed, “only an incredibly powerful wizard could even hope to defeat something Salazar Slytherin himself placed in the castle to keep it pure.”

 

Daphne would’ve sworn she heard a male voice screaming in frustration. 

 

“You’re right, they’ll just end up monster meat,” Tracey agreed.  At that moment, the door opened to reveal one of the Slytherin prefects, a minor pureblood from a house Daphne didn’t remember.

 

“Professor Snape sent me here to tell you that the lockdown has been lifted, effective immediately,” the black-haired boy announced. Instantly, a clamor arose, with dozens of students yelling questions at the stoic prefect.

 

Over the chaos, Draco Malfoy called, “Savage, what the bloody hell are you talking about? What about Slytherin’s monster?”

 

The prefect, Savage, answered, “Apparently, Potter defeated it. The blood traitor is still alive, too.”

 

“How the fuck did he do that?” Draco demanded.

 

“I’ll be damned if I know!” Savage shouted back, “all I’m sure of is that Professor Snape called me into his office, and on my way here, I saw Potter walking through the halls with a giant fucking snake woman wrapped around him!”

 

Savage sneered as he said “Potter,” like a true pureblood should. It was something Daphne had always struggled with; something about the boy had just made him...hard to hate. He’d looked so scared, early that first year, like his whole world had changed. Daphne could never find the hatred in her heart necessary for that sneer.  And now that scared, skinny boy had defeated a monster that had driven Dumbledore himself from the castle, and apparently bent it to his will.

 

As the whole world (or at least, Daphne’s world) descended into chaos, Tracey turned to her and asked, “What do we do now, Daph?”

 

Daphne’s mind started to race, considering their next course of action. If Potter really was powerful enough to defeat a monster like that, then that tipped the scales in the political landscape dramatically. Nobody in Slytherin could match that, and whoever found a way to even the odds again would hold significant influence.This was an opportunity, and Daphne had always been good at seizing those.  If she found some sort of asset that could equal whatever Potter’s capabilities were, then Daphne could use that strength to benefit her family.  That was the other primary law that Daphne had had burned into her from the moment she was old enough to speak, the goal of all pureblood heirs.  Family comes first; your family is everything.

 

Daphne leaned in close so that only Tracey could hear her and said, “Alright, Trace. I have an idea.”

 

“What’s the idea?” Tracey asked.

 

Smirking, Daphne replied, “If it works, you’ll see.”  She had some work to do.

 

*****

 

Harry had seen Hogwarts feasts before, but nothing like this.  For one, everyone was in their pajamas.  For another, everyone was talking to their unpetrified friends.  Harry had been glomped by a sprinting Hermione, frantically crying with joy that he solved the riddle.  Justin had come over to his table and apologized profusely at accusing him of benign the heir.  And then, just when things couldn’t get any better, Hagrid arrived.  He was in tears as he seemed to drink in the surroundings.  He then, crying with joy, gave Harry and Ron a bone crushing hug.

 

“Arry!  Ron!  I’m so glad you listened to me!  I’m gonna go see Arragog after this!” he bawled.  Ron decided against telling him right then and there about his engagement.  Speaking of…

 

“Harry… where’s Bella?” he asked.

 

“She went to our dormitory.  Why?”

 

“Ari is there, Harry.”

 

Harry facepalmed.  “I made a big mistake, didn’t I?”

 

Before they could say anything else, Dumbedore cleared his throat.  “May I have your attention, please?” he called.  All of the students stopped to look at him.  “First of all, thank you, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Potter, for ending the attacks.  Now, we’re only a few days from exams, and the OWLs and NEWTs have been taken… but in light of the joyous events of today, the exams for the rest of the years are cancelled!”  There was a massive amount of cheering from the school, save the Slytherins, and Hermione, who looked distraught.  Draco looked like a present had been snatched from him.  If Harry had to guess, he had been hoping to see Hermione fail.

 

“Additionally, Professor Lockhart has decided to retire, citing an existential crisis,” Dumbledore added.  He left out the fact that he had seen the Professor setting his makeup kit on fire, ripping up his books, and cursing like a sailor.  He also didn’t mention Lockhart promising to go to Albania after his crisis was over. The man would have made an incredible member of the Order, and with Voldemort still out there...well, Dumbledore was glad to have such a capable fighter on his side.

 

“Shame, Lockhart was growing on me,” Ron mused.  “Thought he’d last another year… wonder who Dumbeldore will get next year?”

 

“A vampire?” Harry joked.

 

*****

 

After the feast was over, Harry and Ron rushed up to their dormitory.  They were met by a bunch of worried Gryffindors.  “Ron… what’s going on in there?!” Neville exclaimed.  Ron opened the door, finding Ari, in Drider form, clinging to the ceiling.  Bella was on the floor.

 

“Please come down!  I won’t hurt you!” the basilisk lamia pleaded.

 

“Noooooo!” Ari wailed, flinging webbing at her.  “Stay back!  Go away!” she begged.

 

At Harry and Ron’s entrance, Bella turned to them.  “I’m sorry!  She took one look at me and she won’t come down!” she bawled.  “I’m not a monster!  I promise!” she sobbed, curling around Harry.

 

Ron stepped in.  “Hey, Ari… you can come down now,” he told her.

 

“But… basilisk!” she complained.

 

“Bella isn’t going to hurt you, Ari,” Ron countered.

 

“Are you sure!?” Ari asked, trembling.

 

“I’m positive.  If you want, I’ll give you a kiss-”  Ari was down within five seconds, towering over Ron, thanks to still being in drider form.  She then turned into her mostly human form.  “Welp, a deal’s a deal,” Ron said, kissing her on the lips.  Ari’s tongue played with his, and he tried to ignore the pincers, his magic singing at the proximity, while the portion of his brain not flooding with hormones was freaking out at kissing a girl.  Eventually, they separated.  “Now then.  Harry, will you help me introduce Bella to Ari?”

 

*****

 

Hermione was having trouble adjusting.  First of all, the morning after the party, she found herself staring into poison-green eyes, belonging to a woman with some of the largest breasts she had ever seen.  What really caught her eyes, though, was that the woman was snake from the waist down.  “I'm so, so sorry,” the snake woman said, bowing.  “I didn’t mean to hurt you…” she sniffled.

 

Hermione made the connection in five seconds.  “You’re the basilisk,” she said.  Bella meekly nodded.  Most wizards would start screaming in fear.  Hermione wasn’t most wizards.  “What the fuck?” she calmly asked.  Well, tried to ask.  Bella was still saying how sorry she was, before darting out of her dormitory, softly crying.  Well, she’d have to get answers from Harry or Ron.  Turning the basilisk that had been attacking students into a Lamia was either their doing or Fred and Geroge’s idea of a “welcome back” prank.  Thus, she went to the common room.

 

When Hermione walked into the Gryffindor common room, she expected a lot of things.

The sense of comfort and coming home was one of them; for whatever reason, the cat in her had marked something about this place as safe, and returning to it after so long away felt like letting out a deep breath. 

Honestly, Hermione was adapting to those cat instincts a lot better than she thought she would be. Back before she was petrified, they would scream in her head and try to overwhelm her constantly, but now they sat comfortably in the back of her mind, barely distinguishable from the rest of her thoughts. Maybe spending some time in what was basically a magical coma had helped her mind settle a little.

 

Hermione’s expectations were apparently based on outdated information, though, because when she walked into the common room to cheers and smiles, her eyes instantly landed on her friends.  Harry was in the corner, talking to a sad-looking Bella, who had coiled herself into a ball, hiding her face with her tail as she hung her head. Harry knelt gently by her, but his words were too soft even for Hermione’s cat ears to pick up.

 

Then, of course, there was Ron, who was currently getting the life snogged out of him by a woman Hermione had never seen before in her life.  “Huh, that’s new. Since when did Ron have a girlfriend?” Hermione wondered. Hermione couldn’t see the girl’s face at the moment, but she definitely wasn’t ugly, with long black hair that seemed to shimmer as she moved, milk-white skin, and a body that made Hermione just a little envious.

 

Hermione may not have been romantically interested in Ron (Merlin bless him, but loud, slightly dumb, and unquestionably loyal was just not her type) so the pang she felt in her stomach watching him getting kissed like the girl was trying to suck his soul out wasn’t jealousy, exactly. It was more like...a reminder that her crush wasn’t likely to look twice at her.  Hermione chanced a look over at where Harry was still soothing Bella. Seeing his shining green eyes and dark hair always made her heart do a flip, as much as she told herself that crushing on a friend wasn’t going to end well.

 

Shaking herself to dismiss the thought, Hermione walked closer to Ron, who was finally pulling away from the girl.  Loud enough to get his attention, she said, “Hello, Ron. I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

 

Ron jumped, turning to give her a sheepish, surprised look. His face was as red as his hair when he replied, “Oh, hey, Hermione! I...kinda don’t have a girlfriend, exactly…”  Hermione raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms; she could feel her whiskers twitching with a mix of amusement and confusion.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said dryly, “I forgot about your well-known habit of snogging random women like you’re a soldier coming back from war to a loving wife.”

 

“Erm, about that…” Ron trailed off, looking even more uncomfortable as the girl finally began to turn to look at Hermione.

 

“About what?” Hermione asked, tapping her foot impatiently.

 

It wasn’t Ron who responded, though. Instead, the girl announced cheerily, “Actually, I am his wife!”

 

Hermione felt her jaw drop; her brain screeched to a halt as she tried and failed to process the girl’s words. She turned to look at Ron for confirmation. When he nodded quietly, Hermione had to take a second to confirm that she wasn’t still in a Petrification coma.  At least THOSE dreams made SOME sense.  Also, she was able to control them-it had been quite fun to become Catzilla.

 

She took several deep breaths, and eventually managed to find her voice again.

“I see,” Hermione said in a remarkably calm voice, “mind telling me how that happened? Because unless you’re all playing a prank on me and I’ve been out way longer than I thought I was, you were very much not married a few weeks ago. That’s not quite enough time for a whirlwind romance, I feel.”

 

Ron blushed even harder as he admitted, “It was kind of an accident.”

 

“How do you accidentally get married?” Hermione asked, her voice cracking just a little.

 

“By being stupid, apparently,” Ron muttered. Hermione was glad he was finally accepting who he was, but it wasn’t getting her any closer to the answers she really needed right now.

 

Luckily, the girl explained, “I told my mom he looked cute, and she agreed not to kill and eat them if I married him!”

 

Hermione blinked. Okay, scratch being lucky, that just made everything more confusing.

Then, as the girl smiled at Ron, Hermione saw the very not human mouth parts just inside her rosy pink lips, and the pitch-black eyes with no pupils. Suddenly, things made...well, not more sense, but they didn’t make less sense, which was about all Hermione could really ask for at this point.

 

“You’re an Acromantula, aren’t you...I’m sorry, what’s your name?” Hermione asked.

 

“Ariana. Please, call me Ari,” the girl replied, “and yes, yes I am.”

 

Hermione nodded, then looked back at Ron, who had an expression filled with more regret than someone who had drawn the ire of Fred and George.  “How?” was all she could get out.

 

“It’s a long story,” Ron replied.

 

“Ronald Weasley, you are the biggest arachnophobe I have ever met, and you married yourself off to an acromantula. If it wasn’t a long story, I’d be convinced you were cursed,” Hermione told him.

 

Ron snorted, but whether it was at Hermione’s words or the idea that his life could get any more cursed, even he wasn’t sure. He muttered, “You don’t know the half of it.”

 

Hermione’s ears pricked as she caught the words. Sweetly, she asked, “Oh? What don’t I know? Is this somehow weirder that I thought it was?”

 

“Well, Ari’s kinda...royalty?” Ron replied, his voice making it sound like a question.

 

Hermione fought to keep her face neutral as she turned to Ari for confirmation. The girl nodded, her jet-black eyes twinkling as her inhuman mouth twitched into what might have been a smile. She added, “I’m the one hundred and twenty-seventh daughter of Queen Aragog, the last Acromantula Queen in Britain!”

 

“Cool,” Hermione replied.  Turning back to Ron, she said, “So, let me get this straight.”

 

Ron watched quietly as Hermione raised her hand, ticking items off her clawed fingers as she went. The tabby girl began, “You, Ron Weasley, married a spider girl.”

 

Ron nodded quietly.

 

“But not just any spider girl,” Hermione continued, “no, that would be too simple for Ron Bloody Weasley. Instead, you married a spider princess.”

 

“Yep, that about sums it up,” Ron croaked. His hand wrapped around Ari’s waist and drew her tight, so casually he didn’t even seem to notice. She certainly did, though, smiling and letting her slender arms drape over his shoulders.

 

Hermione sighed deeply, wondering why these idiots were the best friends a girl could have. She told Ron, “You are somehow both the luckiest and unluckiest man in the world.”

 

Ron snorted, but didn’t dispute it. It was kinda hard to, when he was currently being cuddled by a gorgeous woman who also happened to have the eyes and mouth of a spider.

 

Even though she really didn’t want to deal with anything else in her first day not being Petrified again, Hermione asked, “So, other than, you know, getting married, what did you and Harry get up to while I was out?”

 

Ron gestured helplessly at the pile of dejected basilisk in the corner and the Boy Who Lived who was trying to cheer her up. “Did you not notice the lamia in the room?” he wondered.

 

“I did,” Hermione admitted, “but if I think too hard about it, I’m going to go insane, so I’ll just stay over here with you and your cute spider wife, if that’s okay.”

 

“She is not cute,” Ron muttered. When Ari heard it, her pout and the sadness in her dark eyes had Ron stumbling over his words trying to make up for it.

 

When Ari had been placated with reassurances that she was, in fact, the cutest acromantula in Hogwarts (and the only one, but Ron wisely didn’t mention that part,) he turned back to Hermione with a look on his face that had her dreading his words.

 

Ron said, “Well, other than Bella and Ari showing up...I kinda rewrote reality to make Lockhart not a prat anymore.”

 

Hermione blinked once. Then twice. She would have blinked a third time, but before she could, she demanded, “You what?”

 

“I rewrote reality,” Ron repeated, “Lockhart was trying to Obliviate me and Harry-oh, he does that to all the people he stole his stories from, by the way, the bloke was a thief as well as a prat-and he tried to use my wand to do it. He ended up getting knocked out by the explosion when my wand disintegrated, and when he woke up he was a totally different person.”

 

“I see,” Hermione replied quietly, “that’s...okay, then. There’s about a million things I’d like to say to that, but most of them boil down to “How,” “Why,” and “What the fuck?”

 

Ron shrugged again-his shoulders were really getting a good workout today-while Ari giggled and muttered seductively into Ron’s ear, “Only the strongest wizards are capable of appealing to Magic herself like that. Acromantulas love when their mates have such strength.”

 

Hermione wasn’t sure if she was gagging or if there was a hairball in her mouth, but she supposed it really didn’t matter. Before Ron could get seduced by an acromantula of all things, she coughed loudly and said, “Man, why do you guys get to have all the weird stuff happen to you?”

 

“Says the girl who permanently made herself half cat,” Ron countered.

 

“Fair,” Hermione admitted after a moment of hesitation over actually telling Ron he had a point, “but seriously, next you’re gonna tell me that the Founders showed up or something!”

 

The way Ron winced really should have been the cue for Hermione to leave. Instead, though, she froze and asked, “What’s with that reaction, Ron?”

 

“Um, about what you said…” he mumbled, rubbing his head with his free hand.

 

Hermione’s blood ran cold. “Don’t,” she whispered softly, “please, don’t.”

 

But alas, Ron finished, “According to Harry...they kinda did? Their ghosts, at least. Apparently they’re Bella’s adopted parents.”

 

Hermione’s face was frozen for what felt like an hour. She didn’t say a word, didn’t react or respond in any way. Ron and Ari just shared a look, one that ended with them agreeing that today was just not anyone’s day.

 

When Hermione finally unfroze, she wasn’t angry or shocked or even really surprised. Instead, she just looked like her higher brain functions had shut down in order to stop thinking about the weirdness that was going on today.  Quietly, she announced, “I’m…gonna go upstairs and scream into a pillow for a few hours.”

 

“Why?” Ari asked, tilting her head in confusion.

 

“Because the pillow isn’t going to turn into a pillow-woman or make me wonder if everything I’ve read in Hogwarts: A History is a lie,” Hermione replied stiffly.

 

Ron nodded sagely. “That’s fair,” he decided, “I’ll let you know when Harry talks Bella round.”

 

“Don’t,” Hermione requested, “if I think about the fact that I got Petrified by a snake with bigger tits than me any more, I might actually Obliviate myself.”

 

“...I don’t think anyone ever expected to have to say that,” Ron answered.  “I can’t even think of anything more weird!”

 

“Draco turning into a girl?” Harry asked, walking over with Bella still wrapped around him.

 

“... Not weird enough…” Ron replied.

 

“Draco turning into a girl and falling for you?” Harry snarked.  Bella chuckled a little.

 

“Impossible, but not too weird.”

 

“Draco turning into a girl, falling for you, and you impregnating her?” Harry said, unable to hold in his laughter after saying that.  Ron wasn’t able to either.

 

“OK, THAT’S weirder!  And the most impossible thing I’ve ever heard of!” Ron chortled.

 

*****

 

June continued, and the slow march towards the end of term drew nearer.  Harry was getting nervous, like he had last year.  Would the Dursleys lock him in his room again and try to literally starve him?  He was brought out of his musings when he felt something large wrap itself around him.

 

“Are you alright, master?” Bella asked, worried about him.

 

“No… no I’m not,” he admitted.

 

“It’s about going back, isn’t it?” Ron asked, munching on some toast.  Ari was snuggled up next to him as well.  Snape was walking around the tables, keeping discipline.  Harry could hear some of the slytherins talking loudly about betrothals.  “You don’t want to go back to the Muggles, do you?”

 

Harry shook his head, piling more food onto his plate.  Hopefully he could gain another pound or two.  It might last him another week.  “Master, you’re eating too much!” Bella protested.  “It’s not healthy!  You could gain too much weight!”

 

“I’d lose it all over the summer, Bella,” Harry promised.  Snape had a confused look on his face.

 

“Hey, Harry… if you don’t mind me asking… do the Muggles let you out for water?”

 

“I have to wait for when I can use the bathroom or the hose when I’m watering Aunt Petunia’s flowers,” Harry admitted.  At hearing that, Snape’s eyes widened, and the man stormed off.

 

Bella hissed with anger.  “They won’t touch you!” she growled, coiling around him even more.  She was shimmering, like she’d turn into her normal form.  “I won’t let them!”

 

“As much as I’d like them to be met with an angry Lamia, you can’t.  That’d breach the Statute of Secrecy,” Ron replied.

 

“The what?” Bella asked, cocking her head.

 

Ron sighed.  “The edict that made Wizarding society go underground.  Muggles don’t know we exist anymore, and all references regarding us are treated as fairy tales.  It’s been that way since the late seventeenth century.  As much as I’d love for Harry to have you to protect him… there’s no way in hell that you’d be allowed to go.”

 

Bella hugged Harry tighter.  “C-can Harry stay here?  I promise to protect him!  T-there’s a clause that allows students in abusive homes to l-live at Hogwarts!” she pleaded, eyes filled with tears.

 

This time, it was Heromione who shook her head.  “According to Hogwarts: A History, that clause was revoked following the implementation of the Statute of Secrecy.  If children just vanished, people would get suspicious,” she explained.

 

Ron nodded.  “Short of Dumbledore stepping in, absolutely nothing can help Harry, Bella.  Believe me, we’ve tried.”

 

Bella kept trying to protest, determined not to let Harry return to the Dursleys, but Harry himself didn’t seem very interested in the conversation anymore. In his head, he was wondering how he could possibly go back, now that he was finally at home in the magical world. He might have accepted returning anyway, though, if something inside him didn’t shatter every time he saw Bella struggle with her return to the world.  He couldn’t leave Bella alone. Whatever happened, he would find a way, for her.

Chapter 12

Chapter by The_Plauge_Dragon

Summary:

Le discord: https://discord.gg/yS9bCwj

Albus was sitting at his desk, looking over reports and snacking on Every Flavor Beans, when there was a vicious, angry knock at his door. Before he could even move to open it or say a word, the door was nearly blown off its hinges as Severus Snape burst through, black cloak billowing behind him.  Snape’s face was red, and he was breathing hard, as if he’d run all the way here; or perhaps that was just the all-consuming fury that was plain on his face. His eyes glowed with rage, in a way Albus couldn’t remember seeing in a very, very long time.

 

“DID YOU KNOW?” Snape yelled as he stormed forward, magic crackling off him, sending the sensitive devices along the walls into fits.

 

Albus could only stare in shock, left confused and off-guard. He began, “Severus, what are you talking abou-”

 

Before he could finish, Snape interrupted in a low voice like a dangerous wind, “Did. You. Know?”

 

“Know what?” Albus asked honestly, all the mystery and airs he put on stripped away by genuine surprise.

 

Snape held Albus’s gaze for a long second, and apparently satisfied that he didn’t actually know, let out a deep breath; it did little to change the anger visible in every line of his body.
After a moment, Snape said curtly, “Potter is being abused by his relatives.”

 

Albus felt his eyes go wide; if he hadn’t been sitting down, he would have rocked back on his heels in surprise. He asked, “Are you certain? How do you know?”

 

Snape replied, “I overheard the boy admitting it to his friends in the Great Hall. They deny him food, water…work him like a slave. He’s terrified of going back.”

 

Something about the way Snape’s voice rang with total certainty made Albus sure of what he was being told; he didn’t even need Legilimency to back it up. And suddenly, so many things about the boy made…too much sense. Skinny, jumpy, acted genuinely shocked when shown basic kindness or confronted with people who valued him…

 

How hadn’t he seen it? Merlin’s beard, Albus knew personally what the symptoms of such neglect looked like, thanks to…her. His first mistake, his first failure…but far from his last.

All of a sudden, the guilt struck him like the Hogwarts Express. This was his fault. He was the one who had entrusted Harry to them, who had plotted and schemed and tried to ensure that the Boy Who Lived would grow up surrounded by his own blood.  He’d wanted Harry to be safe, yes…but that wasn’t safety. What else could he do, though? How else could he make sure that Harry wouldn’t end up like…

 

Seeing Albus deep in thought, Snape snapped, “You better be thinking of ways to get him out of there, and not of ways to make me think you will.”

 

Surprised, Albus’s hands dropped from his beard as he turned back towards the former Death Eater. “You seem awfully animated about this, considering how much you loathe the boy,” he observed.

 

Snape, clearly still in the grips of his anger, demanded, “What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean? That I should be glad a child is being abused? That a half-blood’s family doesn’t…doesn’t want him?” 

Albus squinted at Snape as the younger man faltered for a moment, seemingly lost in memories.

 

“Severus, please tell me you’re not doing this solely because it’s Lily’s sister,” he said softly, “you know as well as I do that you have to let go of the past, before it destroys you-”

 

Snape’s eyes exploded with light and fire as he surged forwards, slamming his fists into the desk hard enough to shake the ground as well. He roared, “THIS ISN’T ABOUT LILY, DAMNIT!”

In the aftermath of the sudden outburst, there was dead silence in the room, like a moment when the sun broke through heavy gray clouds. Two men stared at each other, one panting with rage and the effort of casting off nearly two decades of calcified grief and hate, the other with tear-filled eyes.

 

Catching his breath, Snape rasped, “This isn’t about Lily, or-or Petunia, or any of it. This is about that fucking boy, because we failed him.”

 

Albus shook his head softly, gently. “No, Severus,” he corrected, “I failed him. The fault is mine, and mine alone.”

 

“Oh, because you’re the one who starves him and beats him,” Snape scoffed dismissively.

Albus closed his eyes, sighing; he knew that assigning guilt and blame would get them nowhere, would accomplish nothing.

 

More softly, Snape said, “Look. I still don’t like the boy, but…he is still a student. I will not let another gifted young man be ruined by his childhood. We need to intervene.”

Albus almost laughed at that, at the truth Severus had spoken without realizing it. How much did Albus know about exactly that sort of evil? How much light had it cost the world, cost him? Gellert…Tom…even Albus himself, he supposed. He refused to let Harry join that grim list.

But even so…he hesitated. Getting Harry away from that Muggle family was the right thing to do, on the surface…but the blood protection, the magic, the prophecy all depended on that Merlin-damned family. Would a small kindness create a larger evil?

 

Snape watched Albus hesitate, and told him, “If you don’t fix this, I will. And then you’ll be down one Potions teacher, because I’ll be in Azkaban.”

 

Albus exhaled slowly, letting his thoughts settle. Yes, he’d done all this for a prophecy… but it wasn’t as if Divination was a reliable tool. And besides, how many times could he put off a small good act in service of larger ones, before those larger goods were too distant, and “later” became “never?”  At last, Albus opened his eyes, and raised his head to look Severus Snape in the eye. “You’re right,” he agreed, “Harry cannot return to that place. But where else can he go?”

 

Seeing that the first and hardest battle had been won, Snape began to pace the room, his thoughts outspeeding his feet. “It has to be someone who won’t use him as free publicity,” he decided, “which cuts out…well, basically ninety percent of the Wizarding World, and most of the other ten percent is Death Eaters anyway.”

 

Albus made a small sound of agreement. He added, “They’ll need to be able to accommodate a basilisk as well. I doubt that that lamia intends to go anywhere without young Harry.” 

 

Snape nodded. He responded, “The Weasleys, maybe? One more redhead will blend right in.”

 

Albus chuckled. “It’ll have to be,” he agreed, “I’ll talk to Molly and Arthur as soon as I get the chance.”

Snape nodded, satisfied. With one last nod and a farewell, he left, black cloak swishing behind him as he disappeared through the door. Once again, Albus was alone with his thoughts, and his guilt.  Resting his head in his hands, the greatest wizard in modern Britain fought back tears, remembering another time, when he’d failed so terribly, it had torn his own family apart.

Albus Dumbledore had failed so much, so many times. But maybe he didn’t have to fail Harry Potter any more than he already had.

 

*****

 

Harry, Ron, Bella, and Hermione were hanging out in the courtyard.  Bella was enjoying her basking.  Harry would pet her head, and she’d purr.  He’d then scratch Hermione’s head, and she’d purr as well.  Ron would just chuckle at Harry’s divided attention.  He was also a bit worried for the future.  He figured Hermione had a crush on Harry.  While Harry didn’t know, he could tell.  Perhaps it came with always reading faces, so as to make sure Fred and George weren’t planning on pranking him.  Bella also showed admiration and affection, which worried him.  Love triangles never ended well.  And when one of them was a powerful creature… well… that was just asking for trouble.  Either way, things would certainly get really interesting next year.  Ron shuddered at that.  Literally everyone knew what happened in third year.  It would be incredibly unlikely that Ari wouldn’t be pregnant by next summer, or already have given birth once.  What surprised him was that the idea of his spider wife carrying his children wasn’t disgusting in his mind.  He also wondered how his parents would react to him making them grandparents… so far, none of his older brothers had settled down with a family.  ‘Then again, none accidentally got themselves married to royalty,’ he thought to himself.  And speaking of the future, he saw Snape walking towards the group.  He wasn’t just walking.  He was power-walking, with a grim smirk on his face.  Now, had it been the beginning of the year, Ron was worried that Snape was cooking up some boneheaded reason for Harry to be expelled.  However, the man had changed (for the better, as 3/4ths of the school thought) over the past year.

 

“Potter.  Weasley.  Come with me,” he instructed.  Harry stopped scratching Hermione’s ears, which caused her to meow in complaint, before turning beet red.  “I understand the reluctance to stop petting cats.  Minerva was quite vocal in her displeasure as well,” Snape added.  “Follow me.”  With that, he started walking towards the castle.  Harry and Ron looked at each other.  “Potter, feel free to bring your girlfriend and willing servant,” he added.  Hermione blushed at that.  Harry almost did as well, but didn’t.  He did glance at Hermione, however, whose tail was twitching.  Snape led them towards Dumbledore’s office.  “Hershey’s,” he said.  The griffon moved aside, and, once again, the staircase was there.  Snape led them up the stairs, before opening the door.  “Albus, I do believe that you should explain everything,” Snape said, leaving.  “And no, you’re on your own.”

 

*****

 

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Bella looked at Dumbledore.  Harry was surprised at how… old Dumbledore looked.  He had always looked old, with his white beard and whatnot… but now, he looked… tired.  His wrinkles were far more pronounced, his eyes were drooping, and he seemed to be slightly trembling.  In all honesty, it worried Harry.

 

“Sit down, Harry,” Dumbledore said.  Harry did so.

 

“Sir, what’s this all about?” Harry inquired, nervous.

 

“It’s about you, Harry.  It’s about how I have utterly failed you,” he admitted.

 

“...Sir?”

 

“Do you know why you live where you live, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

 

“...Because they’re my closest living relatives?” Harry hesitantly answered.

 

“...No, that’s not the reason.  The reason stems back to why Professor Quirrel couldn’t touch you.  It all depends on your mother’s protection.  The ward she gave you depends on familiar blood.  Thus… I made one of the greatest mistakes of my life,” Dumbledore said.  “Hagrid told you that he brought you to the Dursleys, but it was I who told him to.  I understand that you might hate me, and I would not fault you for it.”

 

“I don’t hate you, sir.  I just want to know why you put me there,” Harry said.

 

“As I said, it’s because of Lily’s protection, which I will call ‘blood wards’, require familial blood.  Thus, I had you taken in by your aunt and uncle.  I left them a note, explaining the situation, after placing powerful wards and warming charms over you.  The note explained what had happened, and requested that she show the same love Lily would have should they have befallen the same fate.  I trusted in her sister to have basic human decency… and I was wrong.  And you, Harry, paid the price for it.  However, for the blood wards to work, you have to spend some time each year there to maintain them, until you reach 17.  It’s the best defense you have… or had,” he said.

 

Harry felt hope spark in his chest.  “S-sir?” he stammered.

 

“Thanks to this chain of events, you have enlisted the services of a fiercely loyal basilisk.  While not as guaranteed as a zone of denial, having one of the most powerful creatures in existence guarding you is a close second, and I daresay you’ll be much happier,” Dumbledore answered.  “That brings up the question of lodging, though.”

 

Harry’s mind was looping, as tears of joy began to well up in his eyes.  “Y-y-you mean I won’t h-have to go back?” he whispered, sounding like a small child.

 

Dumbledore mentally ran through every curse he knew that caused pain but would baffle muggle authority that wasn’t the cruciatus curse.  “Yes, Harry.  You won’t have to go back.”

 

The dam broke.  Harry collapsed out of his chair, crying tears of joy.  Bella coiled around him, offering soothing words.  “Gone… t-they’re gone…” Harry whimpered, snuggling into her coils.  Bella gave him a snake hug, and soon all that anyone would see of Harry was his black hair, occasionally shaking from muffled sobs of relief.

 

Ron turned to the Headmaster.  “So, what was that about lodging?” he requested, and Bella soothed Harry by rubbing her hand through his hair.

 

“Harry has to live somewhere, after all.  Severus has helped narrow down the preferred lodging.  Harry shouldn’t go to someone who will live off of his fame, and, of course, he cannot, under any circumstance, be allowed to live with those who show… similar views to Lord Voldemort,” Dumbledore said.  Ron and Hermione flinched.  Dumbledore was happy that Harry didn’t.  “Thus, Severus pointed out a simple solution, one I think would benefit everyone,” Dumbledore said cheerfully.  “Harry, would you like to live with the Weasleys?”

 

There was silence.  “Harry?” Ron asked.

 

“...This is a dream.  I’m going to wake up in my bed, pack my bags, and go back to the Dursleys,” he sniffled.  Ron reached over and pinched him.  “T-thanks Ron… d-d-does that mean… this is really happening?  T-that I’m going to live with you?” He stammered.  Ron nodded.

 

“You’re NEVER going back to those brutes, Harry.  Not on my watch,” Ron promised, patting him on the head.  Harry sighed contentedly, still wrapped in Bella’s coils.

 

“Miss Granger, I daresay that I shall have to inform your parents of your transformation into a human-cat hybrid… or have they paid any attention to manga?” he inquired, eyes twinkling with mirth.

 

Hermione’s eyes widened.  “Oh no!  I never told them the specifics, just that there was a small accident in potions and everything was fine!” she announced.  “And I can’t just claim that these are fake, either!” she shouted, pointing to her ears.  She was also beginning to breathe rapidly.

 

“I presume you are not one for cosplay,” Dumbledore guessed, causing Hermione to start.  “And it would be strange for you to suddenly seem into it that much, boarding school or not,” he added.  “Miss Granger, I know that you are still raw over your transformation.  You have suffered immensely over the year, and, as much as I loathe to admit it, you will likely suffer longer.  You will have many trials and hardships, but I have no doubt that those who stand against you will be cast aside like friendships after a blue shell,” Dumbledore said.  “And as for why I have this level of trust?  You are the brightest witch of our age, Hermione Granger.  You will be able to rise above those who try to cast you down due to their own insecurities.  Of this, I have no doubt.”

 

Hermione nodded, thankful that Dumbledore had said those encouraging things to her, and a little surprised at the Mario Kart reference.  “T-thank you sir,” she said.

 

“Now, Mr. Weasley, you should probably tell your parents about this development,” Dumbledore suggested.  Ron nodded as well.  “I will write a letter to your… former guardians, Harry,” Dumbledore announced, the air pressure multiplying fivefold.  “And I will express my… disappointment… and how I found their lack of love disturbing,” he added, subtly clenching his fists.  With that, the group left, leaving Dumbledore alone in his office.  

 

After they had left, and he was alone, his magic lashed out in every direction.  Normally, he kept his feelings under wraps.  It wouldn't do to frighten anyone.  But now that he was alone… he could vent.  He screamed in sheer, undying loathing.  Not at the Dursleys, but at himself.  He should’ve done MORE to help Harry.  He should’ve SEEN the signs!  For Merlin’s sake it couldn’t have been more obvious then if Child Protection Services had walked right up to the castle!  Then, he stopped, his eyes wide in horror.  “Did… did I willingly turn a blind eye?” he squeaked.  “Did I willingly send him back to that hell because of the prophecy?” he whispered to himself.  The thought made him collapse to the floor, and vomit.  It took him three minutes to get back up.  Thankfully, the floor didn't show his reflection.  It would’ve likely shown Grindelwald, mouthing ‘For the Greater Good’.  Shakily, he clawed his way to his desk.  “I’ll make this right, Harry… I’ll make this right,” he promised.

 

*****

 

That night, Dumbledore was sitting in his office.  He was going over his paperwork.  One of the requests, which was in VERY poor taste received a troll face as a signature.  Fawkes had already delivered it before he had caught himself.  Shrugging, he continued.  Minerva had filed for a cat scratcher (under the identity of a sixth year Ravenclaw… again).  Honestly, why couldn’t his deputy Headmistress just… buy one?  Flitwick was calling for himself to be the head of the Dueling club that Lockhart had set up.  Of course, he would accept that… with safety precautions, of course.  Professor Kettleburn was retiring, apparently, to ‘spend time with his remaining limbs’... well, Dumbledore was tempted to replace that with ‘remaining limb’, since half of his leg probably didn’t count.  As for his replacement… Dumbledore positively giggled at the sheer level of horror the Ministry would experience after he put a Half-Giant in the position… and then, he threw back his head and laughed aloud as the PERFECT Defence teacher came to mind… hopefully Severus had truly moved on.  Before he could continue, Fawkes came in, carrying a letter.  That made him nervous.  The phoenix never carried letters to him, unless they were VERY important.  He saw the color, and almost screamed.  It was a howler.

 

“Fawkes… you know what to do with howlers…” Dumbledore cautioned.  Namely, he ate them.  The burning made the fiery bird pleasantly tingly.  In response, Fawkes placed it on his desk.  “Oh no…” he gasped.  “No, no, no, no…”  The howler showed a name he feared:  Molly Weasley.  And sure enough, his fears were confirmed.  The howler rose to the air, and his nightmares began.

 

“ALBUS PERCIVAL WULFRIC BRIAN DUMBLEDORE!  I TRUST YOU WITH THE SAFETY OF MY ENTIRE FAMILY, AND WHAT DID YOU DO!?  YOU PLACED HARRY IN A HOME WITH ABUSIVE RELATIVES!?  WHEN MY CHILDREN SHOWED UP WITH HARRY THIS SUMMER CLAIMING THEY HAD USED THEIR FATHER’S CAR TO RESCUE HIM, I THOUGHT THEY WERE EXAGGERATING, AND SCOLDED THEM!  HAD I KNOWN THAT THEY WERE BEING COMPLETELY ACCURATE I WOULD’VE SCOLDED THEM FOR NOT TAKING ME WITH THEM!”

 

Dumbledore knew that if they had, Molly would probably be charged with two counts of usage of the killing curse and the cruciatus curse.  It wasn’t like she wasn’t capable.  The Death Eaters had attacked the Burrow when her kids were young, and she had a TRIPLE digit body count by the end of the night.  

 

“RON HAS TOLD ME THAT YOU ARE PUTTING HIM WITH ME, AND I WILL LOVE AND CARE FOR HIM!  I WILL BE THE MOTHER HE HAD BEEN DENIED, AND IF YOU SO MUCH AS BREATHE IN THE DIRECTION OF RETURNING HIM TO THAT HELL… you know what I do to those who hurt my children…”  With that, the howler burst into flames, and Fawkes cheerfully devoured the still-warm ashes.

 

Dumbledore very nearly pissed himself.  It was horrifying to watch Voldemort himself get on his knees and BEG her to put someone out of their misery.  He was also doing that too.  Heck, everyone was watching in stunned horror.  Then again, Fred and George were conceived that night… that line of thought was squished instantly.  As a homosexual born in the 19th century, Albus was certainly not one to judge.

 

*****

 

Harry was in a daze as he packed up his things.  He wasn’t going back to Privet Drive.  He was free!  It was impossible for anything to ruin his happy mood.  Draco’s sneers and insults didn’t even faze him.  He was just so happy!  Finally, it was time to board the train.  For once, he wasn’t dreading it with every fiber of his being.  He ended up in a compartment with Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Bella, Ari, Fred, and George.  It was slightly snug, although things were made easier when it turned out that Bella could, in fact, transform into various types of non-magical snakes, and still communicate in English.  The group played Exploding Snap for a while, before practicing disarming.  Harry was getting quite good at it.  Finally, about half an hour before they were going to pull into Kings Cross, Harry, still deliriously happy, turned to Hermione.

 

“Hey, how exactly are you going to blend in?  You mentioned that cosplay was probably not going to work,” he said.

 

Hermione’s ears drooped.  “It’s most likely that I’ll have to spend most of my summer indoors… hopefully, my instincts aren’t too upset with that…” she admitted.  “And that’s not even starting on my… growth,” she added, cupping her breasts.  “I told my parents about it, so I’ll have to go clothes shopping sometime.  Hopefully we can find a store that doesn't ask too many questions,” she said.

 

“Did I tell you about the time Dudley got a pig tail, courtesy of Hagrid?” Harry asked.  “He had to get it removed in a private hospital,” he explained.  The entire compartment roared with laughter.

 

“Pity.  We could’ve done more to him,” Fred mused.

 

“We could’ve given him a snout to go along with it, and give his mother rabbit ears!” George added.

 

The compartment was filled with ideas on what they could do about the Dursleys for a couple of minutes.  Finally, they pulled in.  Harry pinched himself again, just to be sure that no, this wasn’t a dream.  When he didn’t wake up in his bed at Hogwarts, he began to sniffle some more.  “Mate, are you all right?” Ron asked, worried for his friend.

 

“Y-yes, Ron… I’m all right,” he told him, grabbing his trunk.  He walked out of the compartment, and off the train.  Bella transformed into her lamia form, and slithered after him.  There, standing on the platform, was his new mother.  Harry stood still, barely believing this was real, even after all this time.  Bella snuggled him, giving him a sense of security.  Ginny rushed up to hug her mother.  After her terrifying experience, Harry couldn’t blame her.  He had wished that he had had someone to hug like that after his last year… and then, he realized that he now did.

 

*****

 

Hermione walked past the group of her friends, heading towards her parents.  As she did, she couldn’t help but notice how close Bella was to Harry.  It wasn’t the closeness of a friend… it was something deeper.  Bella had developed feelings for Harry.  The object of her affection hadn't noticed, oblivious as he was, but she did.  She could see the way Bella leaned into Harry.  Her hips were shaking slightly, like a girl weak in the knees.  Hermione felt her chest, and, once again, compared them to the basilisk’s.  It was a little insulting that her breasts were smaller than that of a literal reptile, who, by all account, shouldn’t even have breasts!  Then again, Ari had breasts.  Evidently magical creatures had non-mammalian mammaries for some reason.  Hiding her jealousy, she rushed up to her parents.

 

“Hermione!  Why are you in cosplay?” her mother asked.  Hermione’s tail twitched.

 

“I-it’s the potions accident…” she explained.  “I-it made me half-cat… the ears and tail are a part of the side effects…” she said, a little worried about having to explain it.  “It’s… well… permanent,” she said.  Hermione’s father ruffled her head in an affectionate way.

 

“My dear, you are still purrfect,” he told her, a mischievous smile on his face.  “I understand that the wizards don’t want us to let the cat out of the bag, I presume?”

 

Hermione’s ears twitched in annoyance.  “Daaad!” she complained, blushing.  “Y-you can’t… I mean…” 

 

“Cat got your tongue, Hermione?” he asked.  Hermione started making random noises, including a meow, which caused her to slap her hands over her mouth in embarrassment.  “I see that it would be a cat-astrophe if this got out,” he said.  Mrs. Granger just shook her head at her husband’s antics.  “So, do tell us about your hair-raising year.  I’m very thankful that you’re un-furchanent accident occurred, but I’m purroud that you apparently had just solved a thousand year old riddle!  You’ve always been clawver like that!  Also, how have your furrends been?”

 

Hermione just started screaming.

 

“Don’t be hiss-terical!”

 

*****

Ron took a deep breath as he stepped off the train. He had known this was coming, but it still fucking sucked.  Behind him, Ari asked softly, “What’s wrong?”  Ron shook his head, trying to distract himself from the singing in his magic at how close she was. Her gentle hand trailed over his shoulder as he hesitated, giving Ari the chance to step down next to him. She smiled brightly, and even as Ron felt his spirits lift, the sight of her beady black eyes and mouthparts unnerved him a little.

 

He suppressed that shudder and instead explained, “Nothing, I’m just…a little nervous, that’s all.”

“About what?” Ari asked.

 

Ron scanned the crowd quickly, and located the shock of red hair that signaled his doom.  He replied, “You're meeting my mother, that’s all.”

 

Ari tilted her head quizzically; Ron tried to ignore the way his heart cooed at the movement. She mused, “From your tone, you sound like you expect her to be angry.”

Ron raised his eyebrow. “Yeah,” he confirmed, “I do.”

 

“Why?” Ari asked again, “she should be honored that you got such a powerful marriage!”  

 

There were several problems Ron could see with that statement, but Molly Weasley was in range now, and he barely had the time to sigh, “You’ll see,” before she was on them.  At first, the motherly woman was too busy fussing over Harry and Ginny (who was looking much better than she had been a few days before, although still pale and unsteady) to notice the slender, black-haired woman next to Ron. When she eventually got to her youngest son, she immediately wrapped him up in an all-encompassing hug, which Ron returned because he wasn’t an idiot.

 

“How have you been, Ron?” she asked, apparently still oblivious to the now very jealous-looking acromantula not three feet away from her.

 

Ron struggled to find the family-appropriate word to describe the sheer level of bullshit he’d been through in the last few days. Eventually, he gave up, and muttered, “Oh, you know, I’m fine.”

 

Molly didn’t look satisfied with that, but she did at last let him go. As Ron tried to subtly position himself between his mother and his wife, he began, “So, uh, Mom, there’s something you should probably know-”

 

Alas, it was too late. Molly’s eyes landed on Ari, who was turned slightly in a way that happened to obscure her extra eyes and mouthparts. Molly saw Ari’s hand intertwined with Ron’s, and to her son’s dread, she actually smiled.

 

“Ron, you didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend!” she squealed. Ron’s face went as red as his hair, while Harry failed to hold back a snicker at the impending mess.

 

“Er, about that…” Ron began, only to get cut off as Ari turned fully, and Molly’s smile froze on her face as she saw Ari’s true face.

Ari announced, “I’m not his girlfriend, I’m his-”

 

“Wife,” Ron finished quietly, “by a magic bond.”

 

Ignoring the way Ari beamed at him, apparently touched by their ability to finish each other’s sentences, he focused on the way his mother’s smile died in an instant, replaced by abrupt confusion.

 

For a second, Molly was silent, studying her youngest son and his acromantula bride. Then, she simply said, “Oh.”  Ron braced himself for the onslaught, which began a moment later, when his mother demanded, “Ronald Bilius Weasley, how on Earth did you manage to get yourself into a magical marriage with a monster-”

 

“Mom, she is not a monster,” Ron interrupted, his voice surprisingly firm. Behind him, Ari, who had gone tense at the word, relaxed a little, gratitude pulsing across their connection.

 

At first, Molly seemed shocked by his interruption, but after another moment, understanding and shame followed, and she said, “Ah. You’re right. Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. What’s your name?”

 

“I am Princess Ariana, daughter of Aragog, the last Acromantula Queen of Britain,” Ari said formally, standing straight and proud, maybe in response to being called a monster.

 

Molly looked taken aback, but to her credit, she took it in stride, quickly saying, “I see. And how, exactly, did you end up magically bonded to my son?”

 

Ari looked at Ron to answer, because Ron’s life wasn’t risky enough without explaining his dangerous exploits to his mother, apparently. He said quietly, “It’s a long story, Mom. All I’m going to say is…it was better than getting eaten.”

 

Molly did not look pleased at that, and Ron couldn’t blame her. She was looking at Ari with something that wasn’t quite naked hostility, but was certainly close. Her voice was stormy as she said, “You are far too young to be in a magical marriage like this. Both of you. If I had my way-”

 

Her voice firm and commanding, Ari interrupted, “With all due respect, it doesn’t matter what you would do if you had your way. I am bonded to your son, and that can’t change. One way or another, we’re stuck with each other…and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I understand being a mother concerned for her child, so I want to assure you that I will never let harm come to Ron. Aside from the fact that the bond would mean I get hurt too, I care for him, deeply. I promise you that.”

 

Ron stared at Ari in shock and mild terror, as did Ginny, Fred, and George. All of them waited for their mother to blow up and turn Ari into a scorch mark on the pavement or something. But Molly seemed shocked, too; she only stared at the acromantula girl, who looked every inch the princess she was as she returned the glare icily and without a single quaver or moment of hesitation.

 

At last, Molly’s shoulders set, and her face changed into a look that was angry, but in a way that suggested almost being impressed by her son’s significant other. “You are a rude, arrogant, and disrespectful woman, aren’t you?” she said dryly, in a voice like the calm before the storm.

 

Ari nodded once. “I will also give you many grandchildren,” she added in the same businesslike yet humorous voice.

 

Then, to Ron’s shock and terror, Molly Weasley simply nodded once, and said, “Well, as little as I like this situation…I suppose I don’t have much choice but to accept it. That being said…Ron, you’re grounded.”

 

Ron jumped, not expecting to be addressed until after his mother had verbally (and maybe physically) eviscerated his wife. He complained, “Wait, why?”

 

“For marrying a spider woman, dear,” Molly replied. Then, without another word, she turned and began to usher her charges away, heading towards the Burrow.

 

Ron stared at Ari like he had never seen her before. “How in the hell did you do that?” he asked softly, mildly terrified.

 

Ari smiled blindingly at him, and for the first time Ron didn’t feel a mild shudder at the sight of her jaws. “I grew up with a hundred and twenty six older sisters and a mother who’s a Queen,” she explained, “I’m good at diplomacy.”

 

“That’s diplomacy?” Ron said incredulously, “you just pissed my mom off and…apparently got her approval because of that!”

 

Ari nodded gravely. “That’s diplomacy,” she confirmed, lacing her arm through Ron’s as they began to walk away from the Hogwarts Express, “remind me to teach it to you sometime.”

 

“I’m not sure I want to learn,” Ron muttered under his breath. 

 

If Ari heard, she didn’t show it. Instead, she hummed happily under her breath as they walked. Eventually, she asked, “When do you think Harry and Bella will become mates?”

 

Ron jumped, surprised by the question. “E-excuse me?” he stammered, trying to make sense of the idea of his best friend with a basilisk.

 

Ari just smiled. “Ooh, or maybe Hermione will get to him first!” she cheered, “I bet those cat instincts of hers are driving her crazy without someone to-”

 

Ron begged, “Please stop.”

Ari sighed, “Okay. But only because you asked.”

With that, she happily led him onwards, towards home. Ron just shook his head, and followed.

Chapter 13

Chapter by The_Plauge_Dragon

Summary:

Le discord: https://discord.gg/yS9bCwj

AND WE'RE BACK AFTER 4 MONTHS!

The Weasleys, with Harry in tow, left for the burrow in a new car.  Evidently Mr. Weasley had managed to get himself one that was headed for the scrap heap.  A little magic here and there and it had more space then a stretch limousine, and was just as comfortable to boot.  For Harry, it was like after Ron, Fred, and George had saved him from the Dursleys, only magnified a thousandfold.

 

“Hey, mum?  Where is Harry going to sleep?” Ron asked.  “He could sleep in my room if he wants,” he added.

 

“Four of us in one room?” Ari asked, tilting her head in confusion.

 

“Your wife has a point,” Molly replied, causing Ron to go beet red.  “Perhaps Bill and Charlie’s room would suffice,” she said aloud.  “Would that be fine with you, Harry?” she asked, already treating him like another son.

 

“I- I- I’d like that,” Harry stammered.

 

“Would you like one bed or two?” Molly asked him.  “This goes for you as well, Ron.  I’m positive I can whip up something, regardless of your preferences,” she told them both.

 

“Wow, mum, you’re really taking all of this in stride,” Fred commented.

 

“Yeah, we’re surprised your staredown with Ari was all there was,” George added.

 

“I am surprised as well,” Percy finished.  “It is unlike you to be so willing to change things.  Why allow this all of a sudden?” he inquired.

 

“If you knew half of what poor Harry had to go through then you wouldn’t be asking that,” Mrs. Weasley replied.  “And that’s all I’m saying on the matter unless Harry wishes to add,” she added on to her comment.  “Now that we’re out of London, let me see how your father outdid his LAST enchanted car.”

 

Harry blushed.  “M-Mrs. Weasley… I… I can pay the fine,” he stammered.

 

“Oh Harry, there’s no need for that,” Mrs. Weasley explained.

 

“I… I really want to… it’s my fault that we used it…” Harry began to explain Dobby, how the Elf was trying to ‘save’ him against his master’s wishes, and how he had tricked Lucius into freeing Dobby.  “I- I don’t want to be a burden on your…”

 

Molly Weasley slammed on the brakes.  “A burden!?” she exclaimed, turning around.  “Harry James Potter, you were not, are not, and NEVER WILL BE a burden!” she nearly shouted in maternal rage.  Harry nodded, suddenly fearful.  Mrs. Weasley’s features softened immediately.  “Oh, Harry, please don’t be upset.  I’m touched by your offer, but I don’t want to rob you,” she explained.  Honestly, the very IDEA of taking a single Knut from the Potter vault made her want to vomit her own stomach up.  What kind of bitch would take advantage of an abused orphan’s trust just to get rich!?  It sickened her.  She pressed the button on the car that made it invisible, and they vanished from muggle view.  She pulled the clutch back, and they were airborne.  For Harry, it was like the night Ron, Fred, and George rescued him and brought him to the Burrow for the first time.  Only now… it was infinitely better.  He was never going back to Privet Drive.

 

*****

 

Dumbledore appeared in Privet Drive with the typical crack of apparition. He was wearing a normal muggle business suit.  Unlike almost anyone who was raised magical, Albus was quite adept at keeping up with Muggle fashion… even if it had been with great sadness that he had to put away his bell bottoms for the last time.  He had NEVER failed to impress with those.  He shook the thought out of his head, replacing it with sheer anger.  He marched over to Mrs. Figg’s home, and knocked on the door.  “Arabella!” he called.  That was the first clue that he was furious.  The squib opened the door, with a scowl on her face.

 

“About damn time you showed up,” she snarled.  “Was it the letter where I threatened to tell Rita Skeeter about the many, many arguments you had with your brother if you didn’t get off your wrinkly arse and get poor Harry’s relatives whipped into shape?”

 

That brought the Headmaster of Hogwarts up short.  “Letters?  I never got any letter from here…” he muttered.

 

“I sent at least one a month from the time the poor boy was three years old,” she replied.  “How could you have not gotten any?”

 

Dumbledore’s eyebrows scrunched together, the mind of the warrior reemerging.  This mind was the one of paranoia, the ‘necessary evils’.  He hated using it with every fiber of his being.  But right now… paranoia was his best bet.  After a moment, he whipped out the Elder Wand, and felt around the blood wards.  They were intact, though not for much longer.  However, only an inch from their boundaries, there was another ward he most certainly did NOT place.  It was one that alerted the caster to outgoing mail.  “They’ve all been intercepted,” he realized.

 

“Intercepted?” the squib asked.  “How?”

 

“Mail detection wards.  They’re used by the powerful and paranoid to let their allies know that they have sent postage.  I didn’t put such an invasive ward up… but who did?”

 

“It doesn't matter right now.  Since you’re here, something must’ve tipped you off,” the old lady grumbled.

 

“Severus brought poor Harry’s abuse to my attention, and Harry’s reaction only confirmed it.  I am half-tempted to just let Molly do the talking, were it not for the Statute of Secrecy,” Albus replied, shoving down the warrior’s mind.  Now it was the mind of the furious teacher, who was going to go through hell and back to protect his students.

 

“They should be back in about thirty minutes, given the time the Hogwarts Express arrives,” Mrs. Figg replied.  “Oh, and Albus?  When they arrive, and when you talk to them… can you use this to record it?” she inquired, tossing him a camera.  “I want to be able to know that you put them in their place,” she told him.

 

Dumbledore took the camera, and nodded.  “I must be able to look back on this, so I don’t make the same mistake again,” he said sagely, heading over to #4.  He got inside with a simple flick of his wand, and set the recording device on the ceiling with some magic.  Now, however, the alarm bells were ringing like air raid sirens.  The house was steeped in magic… and not the good kind.  It was magic he had felt once… when his sister was still alive.  He dashed to the cupboard under the stairs, where the magic was the strongest.  He flung it open, and gasped.  There was a rotting mattress down there, which showed signs of use.  The smell there made him want to tear down the entire house.  He stumbled back, and raced up to the other area where the obscurial magic was emanating.  Sure enough, the smaller bedroom had it.  There were bars on the window, a cat door with some food stains on it, and over a dozen locks.  His rage was building more and more as he found more bedrooms in the house.  He saw pictures all over… but none of Harry.  He finalized his search, and sat down on the couch, and began to cry silently.  The tears were ones of someone who had failed so utterly.  They were tears of fury at a child being forced to endure such torture.  And they were tears of horror, for what had very nearly happened to Harry.  Dumbeldore knew now that, were Harry sent back, his Obscurus would’ve leveled Little Whinging by the middle of July.

 

*****

 

Half an hour passed, and sure enough, Dumbledore heard a car pull into the driveway.  “Where was the freak?” a teenage male’s voice asked.

 

“I told you, Dudley, I don’t know,” A female voice replied.

 

“But I don’t wanna have to do all those chores he did!” the teenager complained.  Before anyone could say anything else, they walked into the living room, where Dumbledore was standing.

 

“Petunia,” he said, glaring down from his crooked nose.

 

“Do I know you?” Mrs. Dursley asked.

 

“Why are you in my house!?” Vernon howled.

 

“I am Albus Dumbledore,” Dumbledore said, frowning.  “I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and I must say that I’m INCREDIBLY dissa- no, furious, at how you treated Harry.”

 

“We treat the freak however we like!  We’ve wasted lots of money to keep this roof over his ungrateful head-”

 

“Ungrateful?  UNGRATEFUL?!” Dumbledore raged.

 

“Yes, ungrateful!” Petunia snapped.  “You dumped him on my doorstep!  You left him here!  It’s your fault that we had to spend extra money that could’ve-”

 

“You’re blaming me?  For what you did?!  You obviously have enough money!  You have a new car, for the love of God!  Imported, as well!  I took a walk around your house, and I know where you were keeping him!  A cupboard under the stairs?!  What is WRONG with you people?!”

 

“Wrong with us?!  WRONG WITH US?!” Vernon roared, getting right in Albus’ face.  Albus had to resist the urge to grab the man’s mustache and rip it out.  “You FREAKS dumped that brat on our doorstep, expecting us to spend our money to feed that waste of space!  And you come here, and DARE to accuse US of-”

 

Dumbledore raised his wand.  He didn’t have to, but he wanted to.  “Legilimens!” he roared, forcing his way into Vernon Dursley’s mind.  He forced Vernon to see that he was reading his mind, forcing him to KNOW that Dumbledore was finding his darkest secrets.  And then, after a minute, it was over.  Dumbledore was visibly shaking with fury.  Their glassware exploded into shrapnel all at once.  The TV started to static.  A very, VERY strong wind blew through the house, causing the glass shards to shred the furniture.  And then, just as it had started, it stopped.  Dumbledore was no longer shaking.  He was merely frowning.

 

“I have discovered the point where my rage, so hard to ignite, burns so brightly that I am back to being calm,” Dumbledore said.  “Tell me, were you aware of the wards your sister placed around your house herself? Or how many times they saved your lives?” he asked.  There was stunned silence.  “Those were very nasty wards.  In fact, they couldn’t be picked up, not even by Lord Voldemort.  But when a witch or wizard came to do you harm, they disintegrated into nothingness, leaving only a wet mark on your house.”

 

Petunia remembered waking up to seeing several wet marks on her house, even when it hadn’t been raining.

 

“They failed when she died, creating the most powerful protection she could on her son.  I hadn’t seen anything like it before.  These wards would remain in place until Harry was of age, which, at the time, was 17.  They would protect not only him, but you as well.  He had to be around you for some time each year to keep them in effect.  It is the ultimate protection… and you nearly killed yourselves with it,” Dumbledore said.

 

“K-killed?” Petunia stuttered.

 

“Indeed.  You see, when a magical child is forced to suppress their magic due to abuse, their magic becomes… violent.  Uncontrollable.  And it desires to keep its host safe from their tormentors… permanently.  It gains form, a creature called an Obscurus.  They take the shape of dark fog.  Tell me, had you ever seen that?” Dumbledore said calmly.

 

“Th’ freak had black mist on his feet the night he escaped,” Dudley said stupidly, before his mother could shush him.

 

“Then you had less than 24 hours to live,” Dumbledore said with finality.  “Were his liberators an hour later, the damage would’ve been irreversible.  You were hitting a nuclear warhead with a mallet for over a decade, and the timer had finally activated,” Dumbledore replied.  “With the power young Harry has at his disposal, I would be shocked if Little Whinging was left standing after the first outburst.  Obscurials can live for weeks, months, or even years after their first manifestation.  My sister lived for over a decade before she died, so I know personally how dangerous an Obscurial is.  Young Harry will never be returning to this hell.  He will live life without you, and you three will live whatever time you have left without him.”

 

“Are you threatening us?” Vernon hissed.

 

“I am saying that not all the witches and wizards who wished to see you dead are gone, and they’ll know the second these wards fail.  They will fail by the first of July.  And they will come.  You will suffer, unlike whatever you have suffered before.  And when they tire of torturing you, they will kill you.  It will look like a gas leak to muggle authorities.  I am half tempted to use that spell myself, but I think it would be more… deserving for you to know that you’re living on borrowed time, and that time is running out.  Good day.”  With that, Dumbledore used both hands to do the English version of flipping them the bird, walked backwards out of their house, and disapperated with a crack.  As he did, he wondered if he should’ve tried to offer them sanctuary.  However, when he did, he remembered his little sister, shaking like a leaf after those three boys had attacked her… her screams of pain when her magic forced itself out… and finally, her corpse, laying there on the floor.

 

“May God have mercy on you, Dursleys, because I don’t have any for abusers.”

 

*****

 

The Burrow was exactly as it had been when Harry had arrived for the first time.  The chickens gave Bella and Ari terrified looks before running in the opposite direction.  Bella uncoiled herself, and immediately went after them, hair streaming like fire behind her as she laughed.

 

“Oh, I do hope she doesn't eat them all.  They're a rather decent source of extra money.”

 

Bella paused, before nodding.  “Don’t worry, I’m just chasing them!” she promised, before slithering after them.

 

“She’s somewhat more childish then I’d have expected,” Molly mused.

 

“Is it because she’s spent most of her life asleep?” Ron asked.  Harry just shrugged.  “Hey, Ari, what do you… oh boy.”  Ariana was drooling at the sight of one of the gnomes.

 

“Meat potatoes…” she said, as if in a daze.  She staggered towards it.  The gnome, realizing that if that woman caught him, he’d be devoured instead of thrown, squeaked in fear and ran off to his gnome-hole.  Ariana chased after him.  “Come back!  I just wanna taste!” she whined.

 

“Well, there goes one chore,” Fred said, watching their sister-in-law chase the gnome.

 

“Indeed.  I daresay we’ll never have to deal with them again, brother dearest,” George remarked, as Ari turned into her drider form to speed up.  The gnome made a flying leap into his hole, and was an inch from being skewered on one of Ariana’s legs.  The drider moped, before coming back to Ron, tears in her eyes.

 

“It’s not faaaiiir!” she cried, burying her face in his chest.  “They’re slower in the Forest!”

 

“There are gnomes in the forest?” Percy inquired.  “I daresay that it will be a fine extra credit essay.  Please, do go on.”

 

Ari shifted back into her humanoid form.  “They’re the bottom of the food chain, actually,” she said.  And their juice… to die for!” she gasped, shivering.

 

“Juice?” Percy inquired.

 

“Percy, how do spiders feed?” Fred asked.

 

“...Oh,” the Prefect replied, a little green, as Ari continued, discussing the best way to turn their insides into soup, how much you should shake them, and stuff like that.

 

“Do you use fire?” Percy asked, taking notes.

 

“Fire?” Ari asked.  “Sometimes, when we want to make stew,” she said.  “Take some venom, put it in something, let them melt, and then cook it!  The juice is really good!” she exclaimed.

 

“I’ll take your word for it,” Percy said, closing his book.  “Now, Harry, do you know what Miss Bella went off to-” Several chickens went under his feet, causing him to look down.  “What the-” And then Bella went under him, knocking him on his ass.  Bella stopped and came up to him.

 

“I’m sorry!” she said, hugging him.  “I was so intent on catching one that I didn’t notice you!” she cried, giving him a hug with her coils, before letting him go.  Fred and George were laughing so hard they had fallen down as well.

 

“A-apology accepted, Miss Bella.  Do you mind answering a few questions?” Percy asked.

 

“Questions?  About what?” Bella inquired, tilting her head.

 

“Many things.  While Lamia anatomy has been well documented in the previous centuries-”

 

Fred snorted in the background.

 

“Your firsthand experience with the Founders of Hogwarts is far more valuable in terms of knowledge.  What were they like?  What did they enjoy doing?  What personality Quirks did they have?”

 

“Well, Dad- Godric, kept saying that Papa- Slytherin- was my papa in blood as well,” Bella said, hand on her chin.

 

“A-and was he?” Percy stammered.

 

“He said he wasn’t my papa by blood, but by bond,” Bella replied, a soft smile on her face.  “Oh, and Helga had this hamster!  I always wanted to eat it… but I had to wait until it died,” she moped, drooping again.  “It really was better than I had hoped,” she added, perking back up, drooling at the memory of the tasty morsel.  Seeing her drooling at that caused the family to burst out laughing, Harry included.  All was right in the world.

 

“Come now, Harry.  Let’s get you settled in,” Mrs. Weasley said.

 

“Hey, Mum?  It’s the full moon tonight, and Luna wanted to have me over for dinner,” Ginny replied.

 

“Of course, Ginny.  Just please be careful,” Mrs. Weasley said.

 

“Mum, I know that Luna would never harm me,” Ginny replied, rolling her eyes.

 

*****

 

Daphne cursed under her breath as she exited Borgin and Burkes.  The shop owner had been somewhat surprised to see her- not because she was a pureblood, but because her parents weren’t with her.  She had spent over an hour wandering around the store, looking for something powerful enough to match a basilisk. Eventually, she had given up, and asked Borgin himself. The man had laughed at her, and said that he had nothing of that strength, and he didn’t know anyone who did.  Knowing that the man had several artifacts in his possession that would already land him in Azkaban, Daphne saw no reason as to why he’d lie about that.  It was a shame, but no obstacle was insurmountable, not with enough planning, skill, and luck. She’d have plenty more opportunities to find a way to even the playing field.

Daphne pulled her cloak over her to shield her from the wind, and walked down a different part of the street.  She was about to turn so that she’d appear by Diagon Alley’s entrance (no one should know that the heiress to the noble house of Greengrass would sully her feet in Knockturn) when she heard a sound from one of the tiny side alleys between the buildings of Knockturn. She stopped, curiosity getting the better of her.

Hesitating for a moment, Daphne took one step into the dark, claustrophobic alley. Then another. The sound of her feet striking the broken, filthy cobblestones echoed again and again, far more than they should have.

 

“Who’s there?” Daphne asked, her voice somewhere between the imperious pureblood expecting answers, and the nervous young woman behind that voice. Her hand drifted over her hip, where her wand was resting. She preferred to avoid using it-even if the Trace was more or less useless in such a magically powerful area as Knockturn Alley-but paranoia felt like a logical reaction here. She didn’t want to be caught in an ambush. At last, Daphne’s eyes could make out the figure that was producing the noise; she recognized it as gasps of pain, now. A man was huddled against the wall at the far end of the alley. He was slumped down on the ground, and for a second, Daphne wondered if he was alive. The sound of breathing grew louder, more frantic, and the man stirred slowly, eyes dull and faded in the tiny amount of light left in Knockturn. He was so skinny, she could count his ribs, and he barely seemed to move aside from the slight rise and fall of his chest. When he saw Daphne, his eyes shot open; he looked positively terrified.  

 

“Y-you shouldn’t b-be here!” the man stammered, trembling as Daphne took another step closer.  “G-get away from me!”

 

Daphne snorted. As if this man posed any threat to her. She was a member of the House of Greengrass, trained in magic since childhood. She couldn’t even see a wand on the man-though it was hard to tell, since his clothes were scarcely more than ripped-up rags. He was covered in hair, and had strange, jagged scars all over him. 

 

“What’s going on?” she demanded. There were whispers in the back of her head; one of them told her she was out of her depth here, faced with the kind of man she usually ignored with a haughty look on her face. Another told her that there was danger, and that she needed to follow the man’s advice and run.

 

She shoved the worry away. She was a witch of House Greengrass. She wasn’t afraid of a wandless beggar, or anything else. Still, it might not hurt to be a tad bit gentler with the man. She wasn’t likely to figure out what was wrong with him by sneering like an arrogant pureblood-which she was.

 

Daphne took a deep breath, summoning up a part of herself she’d been taught how to bury since childhood. “Are you all right?” she asked him, stepping closer. “You look cold.”  Which was strange, since it was summer. It was a warm night, even.

 

The man’s broken nails scrabbled on the stone ground as he tried to get to his feet. “I-I’m fine!” he protested, unconvincingly. Daphne could see his skin was red and raw from wounds and poor health. “P-please, don’t come any closer!”

 

Daphne frowned. Was the man really trying to lie to her? “I can see that that’s not the case,” she snapped back. She found herself wondering why she cared so much. She’d walked past men like this before, derelict husks thrown out like trash, and not felt a thing. Why did she stop now? Why did she decide to give a damn now?

Irritated-though at herself or something else, she didn’t know-Daphne pulled out her wand. Softly, she said, “Lumos.” Soft white light filled the tiny alleyway. Daphne cringed a little at the sheer extent of the man’s scars, as the light revealed them in all their terrible detail. Layers upon layers of jagged red scars like…were those claw marks?

 

“Get away from me!  G-get-” the man hunched over, and cried out in pain. When he spoke again, it was soft, quiet; he was begging.  “Please,” he whispered. “Run.”

 

“You can’t hurt me,” Daphne said. “You don’t even have a wand.” Daphne tried to meet the man’s eye, but he had fallen silent and still. His eyes were fixated on the light from Daphne’s wand-wait, no, not at the light. At something behind her. Daphne turned her head ever so slightly, and saw a white orb hanging in the sky, just above the rooftops of Knockturn Alley, perfectly framed by the alley walls she was confined in. The moon was out, and it was round and flawless-it was full.

 

Daphne’s heart froze in her chest. There was a scream of agony from behind her, mixed with a sob. And then she understood.

 

Daphne whirled around just in time to watch the man crumple to the ground, screaming in pain as his whole body started spasming. Daphne saw his fingernails elongating, sharpening into claws like meat hooks. His flesh warped, bones breaking and reforming, limbs contorting into impossible, horrifying angles. The few rags of clothing he had left gave up the ghost as fur spread across his skin in waves, cries fading into inhuman grunts that sounded canine. Daphne’s throat went utterly dry as the man staggered to his feet-only it wasn’t a man anymore. It was an eight-foot-tall, musclebound killing machine with the face of a wolf.

 

Daphne scrambled backwards, eyes wide, panic overriding every thought, every plan she tried to formulate. Her arm was shaking too badly to raise her wand. The werewolf’s amber eyes bored into her as it stalked closer and closer, still cautious for now, but not for long. There was nothing in those eyes that could be recognized as human; none of the fear or desperation that had been in his eyes just a minute before. There was only a slavering, bloodthirsty animal, full of predatory cunning and all-consuming hunger.

 

Daphne’s legs gave out as she desperately tried to escape the alley; she pitched over backwards, still scrambling away, still blindly panicking. She was an idiot. How had she not seen this coming? She was in Knockturn, of course there would be…would be… Daphne tried to scream, but no sound came out. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The werewolf was breathing down her neck, teeth like steak knives getting closer, until she could see the drool dripping from them. There was no point in screaming, anyway-nobody was stupid enough to hang around Knockturn at night, and they wouldn’t have come to help even if they had heard. She was alone.  

 

A flash of desperate power flared in Daphne’s chest, as she realized that the only way she was getting out of here alive was by her own power. She had to stand and fight, or she was dead meat. “Harry Potter faced down a basilisk,” she thought to herself. “If you want to beat him, you have to at least be able to take down one damn werewolf.”

 

Daphne raised her wand, though her arm was trembling like a leaf in a hurricane. “S-Stupefy!” she croaked, putting as much strength as she possibly could into the spell. Red light spat from the end of her wand.  But in the moment before it struck, the werewolf moved. Apparently, it had been hesitating for some reason, but the attack put it right back into fight mode. Daphne’s stunner flew harmlessly overhead as the beast dropped onto all fours, streaking across the few meters between it and Daphne before she could do so much as shriek. 

 

Daphne had less than half a second to react before the werewolf lunged, a bloodthirsty howl erupting out of it. Her wand was already glowing again, though she hadn’t spoken the spell.  Accidental magic-a panic response.  It didn’t save her.   

 

The world turned red as the werewolf’s jaws clamped down on Daphne’s arm.

Chapter 14

Chapter by The_Plauge_Dragon

Summary:

After a bazillion years... here we are!

The first day that Harry was at the Burrow was probably the best day of his life.  Waking up in a bed that had been his (Mrs. Weasley really was quite handy in transfiguration) from creation had been just something that he marveled at for a good ten minutes.  Bella had just slept by the fireplace that night, which Harry was happy for.  He wasn’t sure he was ready to share his bed with anyone just yet… although Bella was very pretty.  Ron had walked down the stairs, Ari still hugging him from behind.

 

“Good morning, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said, a cheery smile on her face.  “Breakfast will be ready shortly, so you just sit down and wait.”  With a flick of her wand, the many utensils of a kitchen were working, as if guided by an army of invisible servants.

 

“Is that common?” he asked Ron, who was sitting next to him.

 

“That skill?  Not really.  Mum’s always had a knack for the stuff.  From what Percy said, household charms like this are mostly taught for fourth years and up.”

 

“Is that why some people have house-elves?” Harry inquired.

 

“You mean besides the desire to own slaves?” Mrs. Weasley grumbled.  “Yes.  They’re so lazy or incompetent that they can’t cast simple cleaning spells.”

 

Harry nodded.  While he had more questions, it seemed like asking them would probably ruin the mood, so he just got his food quietly.  There was silence for a moment from the rest of the Weasleys as well.  However, that silence was ruined when Mr. Weasley burst in, a massive smile on his face.

 

“You’ll never guess what happened today!” he exclaimed, his smile never leaving.

 

“You found out what a rubber duck is used for?” Molly asked.

 

“Lucius is going to Azkaban?” Fred asked.

 

“You got a pay raise because Amelia knows you deserve it?” George inquired.

 

“Well, she has tried to authorize a raise for some time,” Mr. Weasley answered, still smiling.  “But that’s not what I’m happy about!  I won the Draw!”

 

Molly nearly dropped the dish in her hand.  “You did what!?” she exclaimed.

 

“The Draw?” Harry asked, prompting Ron to close his mouth.

 

“It’s the Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw!” Ron exclaimed.  “It happens once a year, and the winner gets seven hundred galleons!”

 

“Oh, so it’s like the lottery,” Harry said, before doing the math.  “Isn’t that around 3500 pounds?”  It didn’t sound like too much to him.

 

“Oh, Arthur!  That’s wonderful!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, hugging her husband.  “That’ll help cover Ron’s new wand, and maybe we can see Bill this summer!”

 

Harry knew that two of the Weasley children were full-grown adults with jobs.  One was in Romania, and the other was a curse-breaker in Egypt.  He hadn’t ever met either of them.  “I think Egypt would be more expensive than that,” he told them.

 

Mr. Weasley looked at Harry, and smiled.  “Nonsense, my boy!  All we need to do is get a portkey!”

 

“A what now?” Harry asked.

 

“A portkey is a form of magical transportation,” Percy said.  “Under the correct Ministry guidelines, they are used to transport any witch or wizard from one location to the next.  A charm is placed on an object- usually a mundane object, so as to not attract muggle attention, and then, all of those using it hold on.  After a rather… discomforting feeling, you arrive.”

 

By now, Bella was nearby, and heard some of what was said.  “While I’d love to go to Egypt, I’m not sure it’s a good idea.  The Fatimids-”

 

“-Don’t exist anymore, Bella,” Harry responded.  “We’ll need to catch you up to speed a bit, it seems,” he said jokingly. 

 

“Father, I presume we will be leaving after the proper paperwork is filled out, and the expenses are paid?” Percy inquired.

 

“Expenses?  If it’s just a spell, why not just use it?” Bella asked.

 

Percy looked like someone had struck him in the groin.  “Just use it?  Just use it?!  T-there are rules and laws that must be followed!  Both Ministries must consent!  Fees must be paid so as to connect-”

 

“Bribes, you mean,” Fred interrupted.  Percy’s face went red, reminding Harry of when Ron would get angry.  Before he could say anything, Mr. Weasley just grabbed some Floo Powder and threw it into the fireplace.  “Madam Bones’ office!” he instructed.  To Harry’s immense shock, a face appeared from the fire!  It was the face of an older, square-jawed witch.  Her grey hair was cropped, and one of her eyes had a monocle.

 

“Good morning, Arthur,” Madam Bones said, her booming voice echoing off the walls of the Burrow.  Her head turned, and looked around.  “I see my niece was not kidding when she said that Harry Potter had turned a basilisk into a lamia,” she mused, looking at Bella.  “Young man, while I do not approve of latin chants, I must say that the ability to use one is most impressive.”

 

“Thank you, ma’am,” Harry replied.

 

“Now, Arthur, you know it is unwise to disturb me.  I assume you are calling me for something of importance.”

 

“Yes, actually.”

 

The face gained a small smirk.  “Is it about how another muggle artifact works?  While it can be interesting to hear your theories, I don’t have a muggleborn auror in here with me to either confirm nor deny.”

 

Arthur blushed, remembering how the last one had nearly died of laughter over one of his… very incorrect theories.  “Well, I won the draw today…”

 

“So I have heard.  Congratulations.”

 

“Thank you.  We wanted to visit my son Bill in Egypt.  I’m requesting your help with setting up a portkey.”

 

Amelia raised an eyebrow.  “While this is part of my job, yes, I must ask why you’re not going through the proper channels.”

 

“By the time I’d get one, the Draw money would have been all but spent,” Mr. Weasley replied.

 

There was a grinding sound coming from the fireplace.  At first, Harry wondered if a secret passage was opening from behind it, only to realize the source was Madam Bones’ teeth.

 

“You don’t have to remind me…” she growled.  “Damn Fudge…”

 

“Have you ever considered running for the position?” Arthur asked.

 

“Many times.  I might if he’s voted out.  But back to the topic.  You said you needed a portkey?”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“I’ll send the paperwork over.”  The head retracted, and a few minutes later, a hand appeared, holding several files.  Mr. Weasley took the papers which, to Harry’s surprise, were untouched by the flames.  Then again, this was floo powder.  He hadn’t been horribly burned by it.

 

“Thank you, Amelia, and I’m sorry about this.”

 

“Technically, this is the correct channel- a DMLE employee has to give you the paperwork,” she said, her head reappearing for a moment.  “Have a wonderful trip, Arthur,”  With that, her head pulled back, and the green flames died out.

 

Arthur then walked over to the table, and sat down.  He waved his wand, and a quill flew into his hand.  “Just give me a few minutes, and I’ll have these filled out,” he promised.  

 

*****

 

He did.  Within the hour, Harry was watching as Mr. Weasley brought out an old shoe that looked like it had been taken from an animal shelter.  “Right, if everyone will hold onto it, please.  We’ll be in Egypt in no time!”

 

“What’s Egypt like these days?” Bella asked.

 

Harry shrugged.  “It never came up in History of Magic, so I wouldn’t know.”

 

“All I know is that the Pyramids are still there,” Ron replied.

“While talking about what we may or may not know about Magical history is exciting, I do believe we have an appointment in Egypt.” Fred stated.

 

“Indeed, brother.  Mummies to see, Egyptian curses to hear about, a pyramid to lock Percy in-” George finished.

 

“Don’t you even dare!” Molly scolded them.  “Now, everyone grab on, and in three… two… one…”

 

Harry suddenly felt like someone had inserted a hook into his belly button, and yanked him back.  Reality twisted, and he found himself on sand instead of the grassy hill.  Also, the temperature changed from warm to burning.  He looked around, and saw the Weasleys around him.  “They say the first time is the worst.  After that, you get used to it.  Now come on, let’s go see Bill.”

 

“Bill was Head Boy, right?” Harry asked Ron.

 

“Yeah,” Ron replied.

 

“Is he like Percy?” he inquired.  Ron stared at him, before falling down with laughter.

 

“Ron, did Harry tell you a joke?” George asked.

 

“N-no… he asked if Bill was like Percy!” Ron chortled, much to Ariana’s confusion.

 

“HA!” Fred shouted.  “Not a chance!  Bill’s never been one for the rules like Percy the Prefect!”

 

“Remember what he told Madam Pomfrey?  He said that all of his younger siblings were angels!  Angels!”

 

“He lied to Madam Pomfrey’s face!?” Harry exclaimed.

 

“He said it was a prank,” George replied.

 

“So… not Percy,” Bella summarized.

 

“Yeah.  He’ll be hosting us in his flat.  It’s not far.”

 

*****

 

It was a ten minute walk from their landing position outside of Cairo to Bill’s flat.  Bella had enjoyed the feeling of the sand on her scales.  Ari stayed in her humanoid form, since she’d likely sink into the sand with her spider legs.  She still was uneasy, clutching onto Ron for support.  This comfort did make Bella feel something she wasn’t expecting:  Jealousy.  Why was she jealous?  She didn’t feel attraction to Ron.  Was she pining for someone?  Well, she didn’t know that many people after her freedom.  There were the Weasleys, Hermione, and Harry… oh.  Now she felt it.  Her heart shuddered at her master’s name.  Harry had freed her from the evil heir of Papa’s… and had done so by complete accident.  He had then proceeded to not blame her for the things she had done as a puppet… and she was pretty sure that he had been looking at her assets from time to time.  Lamias tended to have wonderful hips from how they moved… and her breasts were nothing to sneeze at, either.  She cupped them with her hands, the tissue spilling out.  Ari turned around and gave her a slightly envious glare.  It was then that Bella decided she needed help.  She slithered up to Ari, and approached her from the side Ron was not on.

 

“Ari… can we talk?” she asked.

 

The acromantula gave her a look.  “About what?”

 

“Love.”

 

“About time,” Ari grumbled.  “If your desired mate wasn’t as dense as a brick wall, he’d have probably noticed it.”

 

“I- what- how-” the basilisk stammered.

 

“I could tell you had feelings for Harry before the end of the school year,” Ron said.  “I’d suggest talking to him tonight, if you feel up to it.”

 

“T-tonight!?” Bella exclaimed.

 

“Well… he is coming closer to being of age… speaking of, Ron… can we try to have children tonight?”  Now it was Ron’s turn to become embarrassed.  Bella could almost hear the sizzling from his cheeks, like his face was trying to turn itself into bacon.

 

“N-no t-t-thanks, Ari… we’re around m-my family… and…”

 

“Humans tend to not want their relatives to hear them breeding,” Bella said to Ari.

 

“Oh.  Sorry,” she said, drooping slightly.  “Can we try when we get back to Hogwarts?”  Seeing that Ron was in no state to help her, Bella returned to her place besides Harry.

 

“Bella?  Was something wrong?” Harry asked.

 

“No… but can we talk?  Tonight?”  Bella was tapping her fingers together in worry.  In all honesty, it made her look cute.

 

“Oh, we’re here!” Mr. Weasley said, stopping by what looked to be a brick wall.  Looking around, he pulled out his wand, and tapped several stones in a pattern- not unlike Diagon Alley.  Harry waited for the wall to move, only to start when the ground began to sink down.  “Down we go!” Mr. Weasley said in joy as the ground lowered.  Harry saw the muggles not notice as they were swallowed up, and then, they began to move horizontally.  This continued for a few minutes, before the circle of stones they were standing on came to a roaring green fire.  A very familiar type of green fire.  The circle passed though, and then, they were somewhere else.  Harry stepped out, and almost gasped at the sight.  They were in a massive oasis, with walls at least twenty meters high all around them.  A lake of crystal clear water was in the middle of the small wizard town, with gleaming marble fountains of ancient Egyptian gods spewing water into the air.  The temperature was cooler by about 7 degrees celsius.

 

“The Hidden Oasis,” Bella gasped.

 

“You know about this place?” Percy inquired.

 

Bella shook her head.  “Papa and Dad told me about it.  So this is where your brother lives?” she asked Ron.

 

“Yeah.  It’s the major wizard settlement in Egypt.  Bill lives over there,” Ron said, pointing to one of the flats on the left ring of the oasis.  The large group then set off, arriving at the first floor.  There was a House Elf at the front.

 

“We’re here to see Bill Weasley,” Mr. Weasley said politely.

 

The House Elf nodded, and snapped her fingers.  A key floated towards them.  “Flat 708,” she said.

 

“Thank you,” Mr. Weasley replied, bowing.  He took the key, and they entered a lift.  It was expanded to fit them all, and Harry estimated it could fit all of them twice over.  The lift dinged, and they walked to one of the doors.  Mr. Weasley knocked a couple of times, and Bill came to answer the door.  “Bill!” Mr. Weasley exclaimed, giving his son a hug.

 

“Hey, Dad,” Bill replied.  Harry finally got a good look at the eldest Weasley child.  He looked… cool, for a lack of a better term.  He had one piercing, from which a fang dangled.  His red hair- a common trait among the Weasleys- was tied in a ponytail.  He was wearing dragon-leather boots, and clothing that looked somewhere between ‘business casual’ and ‘rock concert’.

 

“You still have that silly fang earring?” Mrs. Weasley sighed.

 

“Yes, Mother.  The goblins don’t care, as long as I get the treasure.”

 

“Isn’t that grave-robbing?” Harry asked.

 

“It’s one of the ways new currency is added to the system,” Bill explained.  “A lot of tims, the tombs have old goblin money that is reused and added to the money supply.  It’s cheaper then turning a continent over for gold,” he explained.

 

“And artifacts?” Harry asked.

 

“Well, if they’re magical, we hold on to them.  If they’re not, the goblins use their contacts in the muggle government to pass them to museums around the world,” he said.  “It’s part of the Statute of Secrecy.  You also get a cut from the finds,” he added.

 

“What have you found in some of the vaults?” Harry asked.  Fred and George groaned.

 

“Well, my dream is to find the Ark of the Covenant,” Bill said.  “Hopefully I don’t go digging in the wrong place.”  Harry got the reference, and chuckled.  He had seen the movie from his cupboard and had liked it a lot.  “Now why don’t you all come on in,” Bill said, moving aside.  Harry entered, and froze.  The flat, from the outside, looked to only be a one-bedroom flat.  However, on the inside, it was like a manor.  “Now then, make yourselves at home,” he said.

 

*****

 

Harry had enjoyed the trip to Egypt.  The Weasleys who were allowed to use magic were more than willing to cast cooling charms, which made the temperature rather pleasant, instead of unbearably hot.  The Weasley Twins had heeded their mother’s warning, and didn’t lock Percy in any Pyramid… so far.  Bella had been sunning herself a lot… and had been… distracting.  Her human clothes that they had bought for her did little to hide her figure.  When she sunned, she was usually in her underwear (she had asked about sunning nude but Mrs. Weasley put her foot down on that.  It was at one of those times where she was sunning herself when Harry decided to sit next to her.  He was a bit a ways away.  “Do you even need to sun yourself?” he asked, looking at the ground.

 

Bella stretched her arms above her head.  “When I’m in my normal form, yes.  When I’m a lamia, not really.  It still feels nice and does help energize me,” she explained.

 

“So you’re warm-blooded as a lamia, and cold-blooded as a basilisk?” Harry asked, wanting to clear this up.

 

“Yep,” Bella replied.  “Doesn't mean I wouldn’t want to warm up with heat sources,” she added, slithering closer to Harry, who looked up at her.  “You’ll do,” she said, coiling around him.  Harry found himself wrapped in Bella’s coils.  He was relaxed there.  She had always given the best hugs, and made him feel safe.  He had seen her fight Tom Riddle, and was very aware of how durable she was.  Also, Dumbledore had used her power to make him free of the Dursleys.  He let the tension go from his body, and snuggled in the scaly blanket.  Bella had left his head out of her coils, and was looking at him.  Harry really, really wished she had more clothes on.  “Harry?” she asked, seeming nervous.  She was chewing her lip, like she was trying to say something.

 

“Yes, Bella?” the almost-16-years old teenager asked.  “Is something the matter?”

 

Bella seemed to struggle for a bit, opening her mouth, and then closing it.  She repeated this a few times, before she finally managed to get her voice to work.  “I like you a lot Harry,” she said.

 

“I know,” Harry said, patting her scales.

 

“No, I like you like you,” she managed to get out.

 

Harry may have been completely dense to female attraction, but he wasn’t shonen-level dense.  “...Oh,” he said after a moment.  Bella nodded, blushing.  Harry was almost certain her scales were beginning to turn red as well… Could scales get sunburned?  “So… you like me in that way…” he said, face beginning to flush.

 

“Y-yeah… l-like Hermione-”

 

“Say what now?” Harry asked.  “Hermione… likes me… more than a friend?”

 

Bella nodded.  “I… I had fallen in love with you after you saved me… like the stories of the Roman heroes Papa would tell me about… but I didn’t want to steal you from someone who had probably liked you longer…” Bella then uncoiled herself, and was now holding the end of her tail in her arms.

 

Oh boy.  It was a love triangle moment.  Now Harry would have to choose.  He had just learned two of his friends loved him, and he could only pick one of them.  How would he do it!?  How would he choose?!

 

“So you both can’t date him?” Ari asked, skittering up.

 

“How… How long have you been there!?” Harry exclaimed.

 

“Long enough,” the acromantula said.  She was still a ways away from Bella, as instinctual fear didn’t go away after only two months.  “Are polygamous relations illegal in the Wizarding World?  Bella asked.

 

“I wouldn’t know,” Harry admitted.  “Hermione would, but she’d probably die of embarrassment if she had to-”

 

“It was legalized in the mid 20th century in Wizarding Britain,” Ariana interrupted.

 

Harry blinked a couple of times.  “It… was?”

 

Ari nodded.  “All of the participants would have to take the same family name, and all children would be of that house.  Ron said it was to make those with rotting blood be able to take multiple wives or husbands to maintain their family line,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the memory of the smell.

 

“If that’s the case, wouldn’t they have done so already?” Bella asked.  Harry agreed with her.

 

As if on cue, Ron decided to show up.  “It’s because, in order to form this relationship, all but one must cast aside their family name.  When they have to take the family name, that means that they’re married into the family, and only have that family.  It makes it very, very unappealing.  And since most purebloods can’t have more than one kid… it’s almost never used.  After all, in that culture… the family is everything.”

 

“I see,” Harry muttered, trying very hard to ignore how Bella was staring at him. What was that look in her eye? It seemed almost… hungry. 

 

A moment later, Bella asked, “Harry…what do you think of Hermione, anyway?”

 

Harry blinked. “Er…she’s a really good friend?” he replied awkwardly. Why did that feel like a lie?

 

Bella raised an eyebrow. Clearly, she’d noticed something in Harry’s hesitation. “A friend, you say,” she told him. “Well, maybe I should go make friends with her, too.”

 

Ron, watching the back-and-forth between Harry and Bella, suddenly put the pieces together. He shot a worried look at Ari, who just grinned, revealing her mouthparts. 

 

Deeply confused, Harry said, “Umm…okay, then? I’m sure she’d love to get to know you better.”

 

Bella grinned. “I’d like that,” she responded. “I’d like that very much.”

Chapter 15

Chapter by The_Plauge_Dragon

Summary:

Ok, so sorry for the year+ wait. This just didn't wanna work- the summer between the 2nd and 3rd years. Thus it's shorter then normal. Don't worry... we've got LOTS of ideas for 3rd year... huehuehuehue...

Harry’s revelation on the fact that the reason for his freedom from the Dursleys was in love with him sank in slowly.  It took several days, in fact, for everything to finally kick in.  Bella, on the other hand, would try to show her affection in various ways- coiling around him, sleeping by his door at night at times, and occasionally trying to cook for him.  It wasn’t as bad cooking as one might expect.  Then again, considering she was a Lamia, and had a vastly different view on what was edible, it was a miracle that it turned out even remotely OK.  Everyone had a wonderful time, and Bella was excited to learn about the history she missed.  Finally, after two weeks, it was time to head home.

 

Home.

 

The Burrow was his home.

 

Harry still loved that simple truth.  Every day was like a vacation for him.  When he had to do chores, he did them with relish, as he got breaks, and others had to do them as well.  Ariana was usually in charge of degnoming, though her results were… sticky.  On the plus side, that meant that de-gnoming required less work.  Eating with a family that loved him… that was his favorite thing.  Those weeks of bliss were the happiest that he could remember.

 

If only it could stay that way.

 

*****

 

It was a few weeks after the Egyptian trip ended.  Everyone was eating breakfast, when Mr. Weasley stormed in, fear evident on his face.  “Molly.  Bedroom.  Now.” he instructed.

 

“Arthur?” she asked, concerned.

 

“Now,” he instructed, showing her the front page.  She blinked, gasped, and followed him.  He slammed the door shut behind him.  There was a silencing charm, and then… nothing.

 

“...What do you think that was all about?!” Ron exclaimed.

 

“Something important, obviously.  They required privacy!” Percy replied, going back to his porridge.  Harry was a bit more concerned than Percy.  Finally, after about ten minutes, the two Weasleys left the room.

 

“Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban.”

 

“Who?” Harry, Bella, and Ari asked at about the same time.  However, everyone else at the table had their eyes widen almost comically.  

 

“How?” Percy squeaked out.

 

“We don’t know.”

 

“Why?” Fred whispered.

 

“Why do you think?” Molly sighed.

 

All eyes turned to Harry.

 

“Who is this Sirius?” Harry asked.

 

Arthur and Molly shared a look.  “Sirius Black was the heir to the Black Family.  They were… radical Pureblood Supremacists- to the point that the Malfoys seem neutral.  And Sirius… seemed to follow in his family’s footsteps.  He was one of You-Know-Who’s supporters, and… killed 13 people with one spell.  He was shipped to Azkaban, and… is now the first to ever escape.”

 

“But how?!” Percy repeated.  “The guards-”

 

“Don’t talk about them, please,” Mr. Weasley requested.  “The Ministry is doing a full inquiry… and… I’m getting this STRAIGHT from Fudge himself… for the past two weeks… Sirius has been muttering something in his cell… before he escaped.”

 

“W-what was he muttering?” Ron whispered.

 

“He’s at Hogwarts.  He’s at Hogwarts.”

 

Before anyone could say anything, there was a flash of fire, and Fawkes landed on their table.  He spat out an envelope, and left without making a noise.  Within the envelope was a letter.

 

If Black touches a hair on a student’s head I will tear him apart, cell by cell.

-Respectfully, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

 

“Is he capable of doing that?” Harry asked slowly.

 

“Yes,” Mr. and Mrs. Wealsey said at the same time.

 

“I’ve seen it.  There is a reason You Know Who never attacked Hogwarts.  Albus is a patient man, but an attack on his students makes him lose all restraint.  The Hogwarts motto also applies to him.”

 

“How powerful is he?” Harry whispered.

 

“Powerful enough.”

 

*****

 

Harry didn’t know what, exactly, to expect of the knowledge that there was a serial killer apparently after him.  Most of the Weasleys were terrified… but there was a source of levity known as the Twins.

 

“There’s another one?” Fred suggested.

 

“If I had a knut for every time there was a serial killer after Harrykins here, I’d have two knuts… which isn’t a lot but it’s weird it’s happened twice,” George mused.

 

“This is serious!” Percy exclaimed. 

 

“Yes, rather Sirius indeed,” Fred told his older brother. 

 

“How are you two so calm?!”

 

“For one:  Dumbledore.”

 

“If Snake Nose won’t make a move with Dumbledore in a fifty kilometer radius, why would his attack dog do that?” Fred pointed out. 

 

“And besides- Harry has a basilisk. Good luck getting past that,” George added. 

 

“And third- Ronniekins.”

 

“Ron?” Percy asked, confused, which made Harry quite peeved.

 

“He Accidentally became royalty, Brother. He also accidentally warped reality regarding Lockhart. We know he’s garbage at lying so he’s telling the truth there. Odds are is he’ll stumble- perhaps literally- into a way to keep Harry perfectly safe.”

 

Harry really couldn’t deny that- what with Ron’s dumb luck.  Exhibit A was currently helping Mrs. Weasley with the dishes, after all.  As he pondered, Hedwig chose this time to land on his shoulder. 

 

“Hey, girl,” Harry said to the snowy owl. 

 

“Preck,” Hedwig replied, nuzzling against Harry’s head. 

 

“See, Perce?”  Even Harry’s owl isn’t too concerned.”

 

“Probably just disappointed with the chaos that surrounds him.”

 

Hedwig just ruffled her feathers at that.  As she finished the ruffling, Ron entered the room they were all in.

 

“Hey, Harry… how do I use a phone?” he asked.

 

“Do you have one?” Harry asked back.

 

“Dad has one in his shed where he keeps his muggle artifacts… it works, but we’re not allowed to use it for the most part. It should be OK to use if it’s someone who knows us, though.”

 

“Do you know any numbers?” Harry inquired.

 

“Nah.  It’s enchanted so that you speak to whoever you want to call nearby, and it’ll pick up,” Ron explained.  He led Harry to the phone in question.  It was an older rotary phone.

 

That sounded really, really useful to Harry.  “Hermione Granger,” he spoke aloud, picking up the phone.  There was a rumbling from the phone as the call was made.  After about five more minutes, Harry heard a male voice.

 

“Granger residence.”

 

“Err… Hello?  This is Harry Potter?  I’m a friend of Hermione’s…” he said.

 

“Ah,” the voice said.  There was the sound of him putting his hand over the phone.  After a little bit, a familiar voice picked up the line.

 

“Harry!  How was Egypt?” Hermione exclaimed.

 

“It was great!” Harry exclaimed.  He then began to tell her about all the pyramids, traps, and the wizarding community down there.  “And then… I think Bella confessed feelings of love for me.”

 

“...Oh,” Hermione said slowly.  “That’s… that’s surprising,” she said after a bit.  

 

“Yeah… I didn’t think she fancied me… am I even good enough for her?” Harry asked her.

 

“Harry James Potter, you are definitely good enough for Bella,” Hermione said with conviction.  Okay, it was still hurting to know that she now had a snake woman who was as old as the school as a love rival, but for now, she’d work on getting Harry’s confidence up.  Because that’s what friends- and hopefully a girlfriend- would do.  “You saved her from slavery, for one.”

 

“By accident!” Harry pointed out.

 

“And Ron accidently got married to a Spider Princess.  I think that accidentally gaining a romantic partner is a running theme for us,” Hermione deadpanned.

“Ask her who she thinks will fall in love with her by accident- just to complete the trifecta,” Ron whispered.  Of course, this was to try to get Hermione to tell Harry, but his best friend didn’t have to know that.  Harry covered the phone.  

 

“Ron… Bella said that she liked me…” Harry pointed out.

 

“Does she think that you don’t know?” Ron asked back.

 

“Who… who do you think will fall in love with you?  If you were to guess the future, or who you’d desire?”

 

Hermione wanted to say ‘You, Harry’, but that’d cause him to have issues.  He already knew that Bella was after his heart.  “...I guess I’ll have to wait and see,” she said.

 

“...Bella said you liked me,” Harry told her.

 

If Harry could see her, he’d have seen her tail puffed up from shock.  “...What?!” she exclaimed.

 

“Was she wrong?” Harry asked.

 

“...No, Harry, she isn’t wrong.  I… I admit I’ve had a crush on you for some time.”

 

“...So… what does that mean?” Harry asked her.

 

“Tell Bella we’re now friendly rivals for your love.”

 

“B-but-”

 

“Harry, you are worthy of that affection.  Not because you killed Voldemort-” Ron flinched- “But because you’re you.  You’re smart, handsome, and most importantly, kind.  I’ll work to earn-”

 

“And that’s enough,” Ron said, taking the phone.  There really wasn’t any more need for the two to flail around like that.  “Hermione, let me lay this out for you:  Having multiple partners in a marriage is legal.”

 

“...I beg your pardon, Ron?” Hermione asked, slowly.

 

“It would be perfectly legal for both you and Bella to marry Harry.  Granted, you’d have to basically take on the Potter name only…” Ron went into a bit more detail.

 

“...Let me get this straight, Ronald.  You’re telling me that I am able to be in a… what’s the term?”   They heard the phone be muffled for about ten seconds, before Hermione’s voice returned.  “Ok, so you’re telling me that I’m able to be in a poligamous relationship with Harry… and the Basilisk.”

 

“That about sums it up, yes,” Ron replied, as Harry’s face just kept getting redder and redder.

Chapter 16

Chapter by The_Plauge_Dragon

Summary:

A bit short, but this was hopefully the last chapter that was hard to write. Fingers crossed...

30 days before the next full moon:

 

For the rest of her life, Daphne would never remember more than a frantic few snatches of the next few hours. 

 

Somehow, she got out of that alley, away from that horrible monster, though she had no idea how. Her wand flashed, a piercing, blinding light filled the alley, there was a howl of rage and frustration…and then she was running, clutching the bloody, gaping wound in her arm, running like hell itself was nipping at her heels. All she understood was panic and terror…and a slow, creeping, horrific understanding.

 

She had been bitten by a werewolf. Even in the blind, shrieking terror of racing back up Knockturn Alley, leaping for the nearest public Floo, and somehow stammering “Greengrass Manor” through clenched, chattering teeth, Daphne knew what that meant.

But she hurled the thought away, mustering all the violence she could to stop herself from understanding. She rejected it. It wasn’t true. It wasn’t happening to her. It couldn’t be happening to her. She…she would be fine, right?

 

She had to be fine. She had to be.

 

Daphne stumbled out of the fireplace in the grandness of the Greengrass Manor, clutching her bleeding arm. Without hesitation, she sprinted for the stairs. She heard the start of a question behind her, her father calling out “Daphne? Is that you?” from the other room, but she ignored it. Even in her utter panic, she knew she had to hide it. She had to make sure nobody ever knew. 

If they found out…if her parents found out what had just happened to their daughter…her life was over.

 

Oh, who was she kidding? Her life was already over.

 

She made it to her room, slamming the door shut and sealing it behind her. She still had her wand, somehow-a gift she was in no state to question as she stammered out locking and muffling spells on the door, tearing a strip of cloth from an old dress in her closet to wrap around her arm as a makeshift bandage, and finally coming to a halt, having exhausted every last drop of her manic energy.

 

For a moment, she almost relaxed, the adrenaline starting to wear off. And then, her eyes landed once again on her bloodstained arm, and it all came crashing down.

 

Daphne crumpled to her knees. Tears began to flow from her eyes, but she could not even summon the energy to sob. She clutched her arm tightly, trying to force herself to deny the truth she knew she couldn’t escape, trying to lie to herself, trying to pretend it would all be okay.

 

She failed. She…she’d been bitten. There was no way around that, no way to deny it.

She’d been bitten by a werewolf.

 

*****

 

14 days before the next full moon:

 

Daphne screamed in fear, anger, and hate as she slammed her fist into the wood.  Her clothes were longer, trying to hide the bite wound.  It didn’t heal up.  It didn’t vanish.  It just left a scar.  A big, obvious scar.  She couldn’t stop denying it.  She’d been bitten by a werewolf.  Not a dog, but a werewolf.  She was a monster now.  She let out a wail, turned so her back was facing the wall, and slid down.  That was it, then.  She couldn’t go back to Hogwarts.  She’d be a danger to herself and others.  There was no cure.  No way to mitigate the damage.  Every full moon, she’d become a monster.

 

She had risked everything to find something to go up against Potter, and fate had decided to give her a monster in the most sadistic way possible.

 

*****

 

7 days before the next full moon:

 

She could feel it.  It wasn’t just the calendar running out.  The paranoia.  The nightmares.  It was all coming to a head.  Her family was giving her suspicious looks.  She didn’t tell them.  She wanted to so badly.  They’d take care of her.  They’d give her a cell in the cellar to transform safely.  But she couldn’t.  She couldn’t just drop a bomb like that on them.  Maybe after her first transformation.  Maybe then, she could trust herself to believe in the idea that family is everything once again.

 

*****

 

The day before the full moon:

 

Daphne hurriedly moved her furniture to her door.  Thanks to living in a Pureblood household, she wasn’t Traced, so she could use magic whenever she wanted.  Her furniture- probably worth more then whatever that Weasley family had in total- was pushed to every available entrance and exit.  Not even her window was spared.  She had loaded her things up in the furniture as well, just so that it would be that much heavier, and she didn’t hurt her family.

 

“It’s just for tonight,” she told herself.  After this, her family would take care of her.

*****

 

Finally, the time came.  Daphne was putting the last bits of furniture onto her door, when she felt the heavy light of the full moon.  Never had something so beautiful been so horrifying for her.  Her eyes soaked up the light of the moon, and in her last bit of motor control, she shoved her wand into one of her drawers, and shut it.  She didn’t want to snap it by accident.  Then, it was like she was suddenly pulled up by meathooks.  Her arms were forced aside, and it was like she was being torn apart.  Her muscles shred themselves, reknitting in new patterns.  White-hot, liquid fire raced through her body, causing her to scream in agony.  She clawed at her face-only for that clawing to become literal, as her nails sharpened and lengthened, slicing deep gashes into her cheek, blood welling up in the cuts. She could feel each bone snap, each tendon twist, each muscle minced and diced as her body began to change.  Her teeth elongated, becoming wicked fangs.  Her scream became more of a howl.  Her senses opened up, and she could hear so, so much more.  Her nose stretched and snapped, becoming a snout, and she could smell so much more than before. That was the last thing she remembered, and dimly heard herself howl once more, and saw the barricade approaching.  After that… darkness.

 

*****

 

That night, howls of a werewolf rang out through the manor.  Claws crashed on barricaded furniture, reinforced with every form of spellwork the House of Greengrass could summon.  The other three members of the family had suspected, but didn’t want to believe it.

 

Now the truth was trying to tear itself out of its self-made prison to rip them apart.  The growls, howls, and eventual shrieks of pain kept them up all night, barricaded in the master bedroom.  Both elder Greengrasses had their wands at the door, aimed squarely at the slavering monster their daughter had become.

 

But, inevitably, the night ended, and the sun rose again. Then, those horrible noises softened and faded, replaced once again by the pitiful sobs of a teenaged girl.

 

Not long after dawn, the barricade spells finally came down, and Daphne’s parents came into the room, wands still at the ready. They found Daphne curled up on the floor, tattered rags of once-fine clothes clinging to her body as she shivered. Blood still flowed freely from the horrific clawmark on her cheek. The whole room had been completely destroyed; furniture smashed, fabrics shredded, the thousand little kicknacks of any child’s life lying scattered and broken among the rubble.

 

Daphne cringed harder as her father gave her the most hateful look she had ever seen in her life; there was loathing there, the kind cultivated by decades of pureblood beliefs-and fear, too, deep in his eyes, the same color as hers.  “Daphne,” he rasped. “How could you? Of all the disasters you could have brought down on the family…”

 

Daphne whimpered. “Please,” she whispered, not sure what it was, exactly, she was begging for. “Please, Father-“

 

“Do not call me that!” her father snapped. “Not after what you’ve done. You put the whole family in danger, Daphne! Your sister was here! All of us! If you’d gotten loose…”  Daphne curled up harder. She glanced up-and saw Astoria watching from behind the door frame, eyes wide with horror. She made eye contact with her little sister, and saw Astoria’s eyes fill with disgust, as if Daphne was nothing more than an animal. She didn’t try to look up again after that.

 

“Please,” she repeated, knowing what the next words out of her father’s mouth would be, knowing that her mother would not save her. “Father, don’t do this-“

 

Her father’s eyes blazed. “I am no longer your father,” he said, his voice terrible, final, overpowering. The magic of the Greengrass wards swirled around him as he said, “You are no longer a member of the House of Greengrass. You…you’re just the beast that killed my daughter!”

 

Magic roared, and Daphne screamed again. 

 

*****

 

When Daphne could think again, she was kneeling in the dirt outside the front door of the Greengrass manor. She stared at that imposing door for a long time, even after the echoes of it slamming shut were long gone.

 

She couldn’t breathe. 

 

Her father’s words still rang in her ears; she could feel tears slipping down her face as she knelt in the dust. The fresh scars on her cheek stung as the saltwater passed over them.

Daphne had never felt so alone in her life. 

 

She hadn’t even been allowed to pack her bags before she’d been deposited here on the side of the road like some sort of trash to be hauled away.

 

In one last desperate attempt, she picked herself up and rushed towards the entrance. She had to try. They were her family, for Merlin’s sake! It was the first rule she’d ever been taught: family comes first.

 

Daphne bounced off an invisible wall six feet from the door. Blind panic rose in her gut as she realized what had happened.

 

The wards had locked her out.

 

They no longer considered her part of the family.

Chapter 17

Chapter by The_Plauge_Dragon

Summary:

Huh. That was faster.

For an eternity, Daphne knelt in the dust, unable to accept what was happening.  When it finally sank in, she couldn’t bear the sight of the house anymore.  With a sob, she turned and fled, into the miles of woods and moorland that surrounded the Greengrass Estate. She didn’t know where she was going, but she had to get away.  She could feel her wand in its sheath by her hip; aside from the clothes on her back, she supposed it was the last thing in the world that really was hers. 

 

Soon, Daphne had made it well past the tiny area of land she knew from childhood, running blindly as tears streaked her face, ignoring the branches that cut her arms and legs as she raced through the woods. Her long dress ripped and snagged as she ran; with sudden, vicious hatred, she aimed a cutting curse at it just above the knee, hissing as her shaky aim caused the spell to score a shallow gash across her lower thigh. She tore the lower half of the dress away and kept running.

 

Somewhere deep inside her, she could feel the werewolf, lying dormant, but never gone. It was a whisper in the back of her head, something more like instinct than a voice. It gloried in the run, in freedom. She hated it at that moment, with more viciousness than she’d ever hated anything. She crushed the alien feelings and the joy they brought. How could she feel joy when she’d lost everything?

At last, though, night came; she thought it had been late morning when she’d… when she’d… when she’d started.  She collapsed in a tiny hollow she’d found; her eyes closed on an ocean of tears.

 

*****

 

The day after the full moon was a strange one at the Burrow.  Ginny would go off to hang out with Luan during the full moon, and Bella would shy away during that time.  Harry wondered if it was guilt, so he decided to ask her this time.  When he did, Bella gave him an uneasy look.

 

“Something is… off about that one,” Bella told him.

 

“Off?” Harry repeated, confused. 

 

Bella nodded. She looked worried and pensive as she stared up at the hill outside of town-the one the Lovegood home supposedly stood on. As he looked after, Harry could have sworn he heard the slightest hint of music-unearthly music, like the wind howling backwards. 

 

“Luna?” Harry asked. “She’s a little…weird, yeah, but she’s not that bad.”

 

Bella scowled. “Luna,” she…was saying that a lamia had hissed something racist? Harry felt like it might be racist. But nevertheless, there was definitely a serpentine undertone to Bella’s voice as she spoke. “I do not like this name. The full moon is when all creatures of magic are at their strongest. A powerful night. A dangerous night. Why is this Luna so insistent on having Ginny come to her then?”

 

“I’m pretty sure they’re just friends,” Harry said.  At this, Bella smiled a little-but it was uneasy, fond, but deeply concerned.

 

“There are things in this world you cannot be friends with, Harry,” she replied sadly.  “There are things older than wizards, stranger than wizards. Things that see us as amusing little worms to toy with. If anything, this Luna may just want something from Ginny.”

 

Harry was pretty sure that the girl a year younger than him wasn’t something older than wizarding kind, but he also got the feeling Bella wasn’t going to let it go so easily. “Like what?”

 

Bella hummed thoughtfully. “Her name, perhaps?” she wondered-then looked up alarmingly. “She… she hasn’t given it during the full moon, right?”

 

“Uhhh…” Harry began, not sure how to answer that, on account of him not knowing what she got up to there.  “I don’t know?”

 

Bella frowned again-and Harry felt a sudden compulsion to fix it, to make her smile. “We should ask her,” Harry suggested.  Bella gave a shrug, and followed Harry as he went up the stairs.  It was a bit hard for a lamia to get around tight stairwells, which was probably a reason why Papa had insisted on wide staircases (Though why Dad had decided to let the staircases change on their own was beyond her).   They came across Ginny, who was doing her homework.

 

“O-oh!  H-harry!” Ginny stammered.  “What… what did you want?”  Well, she was definitely getting better at speaking to him.  That was a plus.

 

“Umm… Bella’s concerned about your… friendship with Luna,” Harry admitted.  Ginny looked confused.

 

“Is this some sort of tenth century custom that I’m not aware of?” she asked.

 

Bella slithered into the room, coiling in the center of the cluttered space just tightly enough to avoid disturbing anything. “Child,” she began-despite the fact that her human form wasn’t that much older-looking than Ginny- definitely a few years older than Harry, but not too much. “How much do you know about this Luna?”

 

Ginny blinked. “She’s my friend?” she replied, confused. “She and her dad live up on the hill. She’s a bit…odd. Some of the other families in the village wouldn’t let their kids play with her when she was young.”

“Not yours?” Harry asked, to which Ginny snorted. 

 

“My mom once got told she shouldn’t let “that thing” near her children,” she said dryly. “She hexed the woman so badly she was in St. Mungo’s for a week.”

While Harry tried (and worryingly, succeeded) to picture Molly Weasley hexing somebody, Bella frowned. “Only her father?” she asked. “Does she have any other family?”

Ginny hesitated, thinking. “She…talks about her grandmother sometimes,” she recalled. “Her mom’s mom. Luna spends some time with her around the solstice, apparently.”

Bella looked even more worried at that revelation. “Is there…anything else odd about her?” she prompted. “Anything that stands out?”

 

Ginny thought for a moment. “She…doesn’t like iron?” she eventually answered, sounding uncertain.

 

Harry blinked. “Who doesn’t like iron?” he wondered aloud.

 

Bella’s tongue flicked between her teeth-a gesture almost human enough to not remind Harry of a snake. “Iron is magically powerful,” she said. “Many magical creatures are repelled by it. That’s why Hogwarts has so many iron doors and handles-to protect the students from things they are not ready to face.”

 

Ginny nodded slowly. “Luna says that’s discrimination,” she added. “Something about “just because I could slaughter everyone in the castle and harvest their souls for twisted dark rituals doesn’t mean I will!”

 

Bella and Harry exchanged a glance at that, before turning back to Ginny. “...Please tell me you didn’t give her your name, let alone on the full moon?” Bella asked.

 

“Uh, no? What does that have to do with anything?” Ginny replied. She looked extremely confused now.

 

Apparently, however, that was all Bella needed to hear. “Okay then,” she decided. “I don’t want to ask any more questions.”

With that, she turned and left, so quickly that Harry almost stumbled over himself following her out. As she slithered downstairs, Harry asked, “Hang on, what was all that about?”

Bella turned to him as she reached the landing. “New plan, Harry,” she declared. “We are going to stay away from-”

“Stay away from who?” a terrifyingly familiar voice asked. Harry and Bella turned to see none other than Luna Lovegood standing there, turnip earrings, bizarre glasses and all. There was no indication of how she’d gotten in.

 

Bella whipped around so quickly that it made Harry jump. “Your Grace?” she said awkwardly-and that made Harry even more nervous.

 

“Your Grace?” he muttered nervously, only for Bella to clamp a hand over his mouth and squeeze him to her-directly into the side of her breasts.

 

Meanwhile, Luna smiled, baring her teeth-and just for a moment, that smile activated every fight-or-flight response in Harry’s body. It was too sharp, too bright, too perfectly even to not be hiding something terrifying. He went rigid as an overwhelming sense of wrongwrongwrongwrong surged through him, overpowering even the distracting sensation of Bella’s snake boobs against his face.

 

“My!” Luna said, giggling. “It seems someone knows their courtesies! It’s quite alright though, you can just call me Luna.”

 

Bella squeezed Harry tighter. “Apologies, Your Grace,” she replied. “Old habits merely die hard. I believe I met your grandmother once. She knew one of my mothers.”

Luna smiled. “Ah, yes, she mentioned that once, I believe,” she said airily. “She was quite sad when Rowena managed to escape her court. Well, good day!”

 

With that, she climbed past them, up towards Ginny’s room. Only when she was absolutely sure that Luna had left did Bella release a gasping Harry, who found himself too confused to even register the boob-smothering.

 

“I’m sorry,” he demanded, “What the hell was that? Your Grace? Her grandmother? And…did you mean Rowena Ravenclaw?”

 

Bella looked down at him with her snakelike eyes, vertically slitted and bright, deadly green. “Sorry, Harry,” she said uneasily. “But trust me, you’re better off not knowing.”

 

Harry opened his mouth…then recalled the way Luna’s eyes had seemed to shine with unearthly light behind her glasses, and decided that Bella might just have a point.

“Er, okay,” he agreed. “Should we go do something…less terrifying?”

Bella giggled. “Please,” she said. “I don’t feel like bartering with our firstborn child today.”

They made it twenty feet down the stairs before Harry’s brain came to a screeching halt. 

 

“Our firstborn child?” he thought-but it was too late. Bella was already dragging him off on some other ill-advised adventure.

 

*****

 

When Daphne awoke again, it was with the rising sun. She kept running, ignoring the protests of her body.  Where was she going?   Away, that was all she knew. Sooner or later, she’d find somebody who would help her, right? Some witch or wizard who wouldn’t attack her on the sight for the crime of being...one of them?  Daphne didn’t know if such a person existed; certainly, she’d never met any.  But it was that or dying, and Daphne had already decided.

 

She was not going to die like this.

 

But the only people she found were Muggles; old warnings about breaching the Statute of Secrecy held her back from approaching them. Who knew how they would react to a bleeding, scarred girl in old-fashioned clothes, clutching a magic stick, suddenly appearing in their backyards?  

 

For two more days, Daphne ran.  At least, she thought it was two more days; by the end of the second, she was too exhausted and dizzy to keep track of time.  She kept time by the points where it got too dark to see, now.  Eventually, the wolf instincts returned; she couldn’t fight them off again. Instead of being useful, though, they only added to her panic and desperation.

“You’re being hunted,” they whispered to her, “have to run, have to run, find safety, where is safe?”

 

“Gee, I don’t know,” Daphne wished she could say to her instincts, “I think I left safety back with the people who just disowned me and left me to rot.”  Everything melted together into an endless rush of fear and wilderness and avoiding any life she came across.  Wasn’t she dangerous now? A threat to anything and everything?

 

A beast?

 

At least she wouldn’t... turn again. It was still four weeks until the full moon.  Small blessing that was, when she’d had nothing to eat or drink in three days.  She could feel it creeping up on her; it was no longer just the dry, cracked lips and the desperate pain in her throat, it was the headache that filled her entire brain, and the fogginess that made it feel like her limbs were made of lead.  It made the pain of hunger seem like an afterthought.

 

Daphne tripped over yet another root, and nearly broke her arm in the fall. She barely managed to roll in time, and she lay face up in the summer greenery of the bleak moor; she didn’t have the energy to stand back up.  Daphne felt her cracked lips curl into a painful smile.  “I guess I am going to die out here after all,” she thought.  How ironic. Daphne Greengrass, Heiress of the House of Greengrass, dying on the fucking moor because she was too stupid to remember to drink water.  Her smile faded.  Well, Ex- Heiress now.

If only she hadn’t gotten curious that day… Daphne looked back up at the sky.  It really was beautiful out here, wasn’t it?

 

Her eyelids felt so heavy…  Yeah, she’d just take a nap out here.  Maybe this was all just a bad dream…

 

She closed her eyes, and part of her didn’t expect to wake up again.

 

*****

 

The man had been tracking this scent for two days now. It was unmistakable; a newly turned woman.   He remembered those terrifying days long ago. He’d been even younger than she was, and judging by her panicked flight, her family hadn’t taken it as well as his had.

 

At last, he saw her, lying in the moor, unconscious… but still breathing.  As soon as he reached her, the man fell to his knees over her, whispering half-remembered spells from a green-eyed friend whose absence still made his heart ache.

 

The blonde girl gasped once; she was stabilizing.  The man picked her up gently, making sure not to jostle her as he slowly began to carry her out of the moor.

 

*****

 

When Daphne opened her eyes again, it was with confusion.  Was she still alive?   “Huh, would you look at that,” she thought.  She realized she was lying on a cot. She tried to move, and the world swam a little.   She groaned, waited a moment for the dizziness to pass, then tried again.  This time, it worked. Daphne gingerly rolled out of bed, looking down to see that she was wearing clothes she didn’t recognize.  She realized her wand was still in its sheath at her hip; she took it out and prodded the clothes. They shimmered a tiny bit, proving that they were transfigured from her old dress.  Well, she appreciated the courtesy, if nothing else. 

 

Slowly, she started to look around. She was in a two-room cabin, by the look of things. It was small and roughly hewn, but clearly magical. The multicolored fire and clatter of dishes moving by themselves in the corner proved that.  Looking further, Daphne saw a chair, facing away from her and towards the fireplace.  She started to creep towards it, when there was a loud sigh, accompanied by a sudden movement from the chair.  Daphne froze; her heart was pounding with sudden fear, and she didn’t know why.  Yawning, a skinny man pulled himself from the armchair. He stretched, until his eyes finally landed on Daphne.  Instantly, he smiled warmly. 

 

“Ah, you’re awake!” he said.

 

Daphne started to say, “W-who…” before her voice cracked, hoarse from disuse.

The man nodded knowingly. “Don’t worry, Miss, you’re safe with me,” he assured her, “I found you not far from here, unconscious from dehydration and exhaustion. As for the question you were trying to ask...my name is Remus Lupin. Pleased to meet you.”

 

A few minutes later, Daphne was seated in an identical armchair across from her savior.  First, she asked, “How long was I out?”

 

“About two days,” Lupin told her, “you were exhausted more than anything. It looked like you ran almost nonstop until your body just couldn’t go anymore.”

 

Daphne croaked, “W-where am I?”

 

“Not far from the village of Godric’s Hollow,” Lupin replied.

 

Her eyes went wide. She said, “H-how? That’s so far from where I started…”

 

Lupin answered, “I don’t know where you started, so I can’t confirm that, of course… but I do have a few theories. We’ll get to those in good time, though. May I ask your name?”

 

Daphne’s parents had always told her not to talk to strangers, and especially not to tell strangers her name.  Well, they’d also told her she wasn’t stupid enough to get bitten by a werewolf, and that they loved her.  Daphne was starting to figure that her parents had just told her a bunch of bullshit.  “I’m Daphne,” she said, “Daphne Gr-“  A door appeared in her memory. A door, and a family she’d once had, and an invisible wall six feet in front of them.

 

Blinking back tears, she finished, “J-Just Daphne now, I guess. I got disowned.”  Lupin’s gaze was too understanding; his eyes were haunted. 

 

“Is that why you ran away?” he asked.  Daphne nodded.  Leaning forward in his seat, Lupin said, “Well, Daphne, it may be a poor idea to take advice on names from a man named Wolf Wolf-“ Daphne snorted, and Lupin grinned as she gave a weak smile.  “But I don’t think you need to listen to anyone else on the issue of what you call yourself. If you wish to hold onto your name, do so. If you wish to sever that tie, do that. If you’ve been disowned, you don’t owe the people who did it anything. That doesn’t mean you don’t own your name, though,” Lupin finished.

 

Daphne felt the tears returning. “Thank you,” she said, “in that case...I guess I’m Daphne Greengrass.”

 

Lupin didn’t look shocked, which meant he was either a very good actor, didn’t care who she was, or he had already guessed it.

 

“I see,” he mused, “and why were you disowned?”

 

Daphne’s mouth went dry. Who knew what he would do if she told the truth?  Daphne had never met a witch or wizard who would associate with a werewolf. She knew what she was, how she’d be treated l for the rest of her life.  “D-Do you promise not to kick me out?” she asked.

 

Lupin smiled. “Daphne,” he replied, “I’m not going to kick you out for being a werewolf.”

 

Her jaw dropped. “H-How did you know?” she stammered.

 

Lupin snorted. Daphne saw the shabby clothes, the crude hut; she recalled his position, far outside of a wizarding village.  He replied, “Because, I’m a werewolf too, Daphne.”

 

For a long moment, Daphne didn’t know what to say. Then, she asked, “How long?”

 

Lupin’s smile was wry and humorless. “Ever since I was a child,” he answered, “it’s a long story, though.”

 

It wasn’t Daphne’s place to pry. But something else was bugging her.   “If you turned as a child...how did you learn magic?” she asked.  Lupin’s smile was still there, still feigned, but now it seemed nostalgic, yet sad. “The same way everyone else in Britain learns magic, of course. I went to Hogwarts,” he said.

 

Daphne stared at him in shock.  “You...you went to Hogwarts?” she hissed, because her voice still wasn’t back enough for her to yell, “you’re a werewolf, and you went to Hogwarts ?”

 

“I’m a werewolf, and I went to Hogwarts,” Lupin confirmed.  Daphne felt hope soar in her chest. She’d given up hope of going back there almost immediately after she’d been bitten.   Everyone knew beasts weren’t allowed at Hogwarts.

 

“How?” she asked.

 

Lupin replied, “Dumbledore was willing to take a chance on me, and I had the best friends a person could ask for to help me through it.”

 

Instantly, Daphne’s hope died in her chest.  “Oh,” she said.

 

“What’s wrong?” Lupin asked.

 

“I...I can’t do that,” Daphne answered.

 

“Why not? I see no reason why you couldn’t still attend Hogwarts,” Lupin challenged.

 

Daphne explained, “You don’t understand. I’m a Slytherin. Slytherins don’t make friends. We have allies, followers, and enemies. You show one weakness in there and you get eaten alive! I...I can’t go back there! They won’t even let me back into the dorms!”  Daphne was hyperventilating by the end of it.  Why had she gotten her hopes up? Of course she couldn’t escape what she was, or what she had been.  From a member of a blood purist family to a werewolf…

 

She was the worst of both worlds.

 

“Well then,” Lupin said, “I have a solution in mind.”

 

Daphne looked up in shock.  “W-what solution?” she asked timidly.

 

“Get new friends,” Lupin joked.

 

Daphne started to laugh, a hysterical laugh that turned into tears, then turned into sobbing as everything hit her again.  How was she going to do this?  Daphne was shocked out of her spiral for a second by a gentle warmth around her shoulders.  She realized Lupin had crossed the space between them and was hugging her gently.  Even in her old life, Daphne had hated being hugged.  But now, she let it happen.

 

Eventually, Daphne was out of tears to shed, and died down to sniffling again.   At last, Lupin said, “Let’s get you some food. You must be starving.”  Daphne realized that she was starving. Funny, how the shock had almost made her forget.

 

As Lupin started to head for the tiny corner of the cabin that served as a kitchen, Daphne stopped him with one more question, one that had been eating at her the entire time.  “Mr. Lupin… why are you doing this?” she asked.

 

“Why am I doing what?” he responded.

 

“All of this! Helping me, I mean. You saved my life, you’re feeding me and keeping me from breaking down again...why? I’m just some poor werewolf girl now, I don’t have money or influence or anything anymore. You don’t get anything out of helping me, I literally have nothing. But...you’re helping me. Why?” Daphne asked, trembling as she tried to understand.  All her life, her worldview had been incredibly transactional; she’d been taught to be that way. It was how the noble pureblood families had always seen the world as a zero-sum game where everything you did must be for your own benefit. 

 

Daphne didn’t live in that world anymore, and this new one scared her.  Lupin’s smile was genuine this time.  “My dear,” he replied, “it’s because you have nothing that I’m helping you like this. I know what you’re going through, I went through it myself, though my family was more supportive than yours. You need someone in your corner, Daphne.”

 

As she heard the sizzle of bacon in the pan Lupin had just pulled out, Daphne felt her knees crumple again.  She cried, not for the family she’d lost, but because she’d found someone who showed her more kindness than they ever had.

Chapter 18

Chapter by ColdLuigi

Notes:

The last five months aren't real. We don't talk about them.

For more than a month, Lupin helped Daphne rebuild her life from ashes.  It was much like learning to walk again, she decided, only harder.  For several days, she’d been too weak to even leave the house; she became convinced that Lupin would kick her out, that she was just draining his resources.   Every time Lupin saw that look in her eye, he stared her in the face until she admitted why she was near-wild with desperation to earn her keep.

 

He shook his head fondly and told her, “You don’t have to earn your keep, Daphne. If you’re not using money to help people, why do you have money?”  That answer had rocked her to her core. 

 

With each passing day, Daphne realized more and more that the kind of life she’d been born into was wrong. Purebloods had always claimed to be the best of humanity, the only true heirs to power and wealth. But when Daphne was finally well enough to accompany Lupin into the tiny wizarding section of Godric’s Hollow, she decided that they weren’t.  As Lupin explained to her, the reason he chose to live here was that the local apothecary was one of the few in magical Britain who had both the capability and the willingness to make Wolfsbane potions for werewolves.

 

Daphne had never even heard of Wolfsbane, and when she asked, the truth shattered what little respect she maintained for the world that had deemed her worthless the moment she made a mistake.  Her entire life, Daphne had been told that lycanthropy was an inescapable curse, that as tragic as it might be, there was simply no getting around the fact that it turned its victims into savage monsters, who had to be destroyed or driven away from the “civilized” world for the safety of all.

 

But it wasn’t inescapable or inevitable. A solution existed, had existed for years.  Daphne realized that her family must have known that this potion existed, and chose to disown her anyway, because it kept them from political damage when their allies found out she had become a werewolf.

 

She had not been thrown out because she was a danger, but to maintain the lie of purity.

 

*****

 

For a girl who had been raised to hate the Muggle world, Daphne took to it shockingly quickly. 

Eventually, out of boredom, she successfully pestered Lupin into letting her come along when he went to work.

 

Lupin worked as a handyman for much of the small village, wizarding and otherwise. She wasn’t allowed to come along to the wizarding jobs, which she had actually suggested herself; who knew what was going to happen when it was discovered that she was missing? Daphne didn’t want Lupin to get accused of kidnapping or something for saving her life.

 

But on the visits to Muggle homes, Daphne watched a werewolf greeted like an old friend, called “Mr. Lupin,” and treated like a person. The fact that she’d never seen that before made her angry. 

 

Daphne fidgeted a little when Lupin introduced her as a distant relative sent to stay with him while her parents finalized a messy divorce, and the villagers responded by treating her with the same kindness they always showed Lupin.  She didn’t feel like she’d done anything to earn it, even as she earned a new nickname in the sleepy village: “Lupin’s Girl.”

 

If she tried to call Lupin her uncle like they’d agreed for a cover story, the villagers looked at her indulgently; “Sure you are,” their expressions said, “we all know the truth.”

 

*****

 

As she helped Lupin with repair jobs big and small, Daphne discovered something else: she liked working with her hands.

 

For a girl never allowed to do anything physical or actually productive with her time before, the feeling of accomplishment she got from fixing something herself was incredible. In a few weeks, Daphne had learned more about the Muggle world and their technology than in years of mostly-neglected Muggle Studies courses.  On one of these jobs, Daphne asked, “Lupin, how do you know so much about Muggle technology?”

 

“Necessity,” Lupin replied, “Muggles don’t know or care about where I come from, or what I am. Living among them is often the safest way for our kind to exist.”

 

“Then why do you help wizards, too? Why don’t they treat you like they treat other werewolves?” Daphne asked.

 

Lupin was silent for a moment, then answered, “This town is special. The wizards here treat me a bit better because of some old friends.”

 

“Old friends? Where are they?” Daphne asked. The thought of there being wizards who might not call her a beast was...it gave her hope.

 

Lupin’s eyes were haunted again.  “Dead,” he croaked, “nearly twenty years now.”

 

Daphne was quiet after that. 

 

“Our kind,” Lupin had said.  She was still trying to get used to thinking of herself as a werewolf. Would she ever be welcome in her old world again? 

Did she want to be?

 

*****

 

Daphne and Lupin settled into a routine over the next few weeks. Working, eating, sleeping, Daphne let herself get lost in the beautiful monotony of it. It made her scars, inside and out, hurt less.

 

With every pipe she fixed or meal she helped cook (after seeing that Lupin, while a good cook for any meat-based dish, was helpless with anything else, Daphne had taken over that duty), Daphne felt like she was rebuilding herself, piece by piece, into something new.

 

Maybe she had died out on that moor, and been reborn into who she was meant to be. Because after a little while, Daphne started to have little periods of time, hazy moments maybe, where she was happy, like she was healing.  Asking Lupin questions about the Muggle world, trading stories and jokes in front of a roaring fire, even hearing him snore loudly from the other room, all of these things made Daphne feel more at home than her old life ever had.  Once, she’d been a pureblood princess who lived a life of fear and anger, with deadlines and restrictions and so many rules. She’d been contorted by them, molded like clay until she was in an evil shape, spewing hatred and cruelty because it was all she’d ever known.

 

She would have hated herself for being bitten by a werewolf.

 

But that Daphne was gone now; she’d died somewhere in the British countryside.  Now, there was Werewolf Daphne, the handyman’s... relative who lived in Godric’s Hollow.  She just had to figure out who Werewolf Daphne wanted to be.

 

*****

 

Three weeks after she came to stay with Lupin, Daphne returned from a grocery run with an extra surprise tucked under her arm.

 

As she entered the cabin, Lupin looked up from the book he’d been reading.  “You look like something spooked you. What’s up?” he asked, putting the book aside.

 

Daphne managed to get the groceries set aside before she flung the newspaper onto the table.  “It looks like the secret finally got away from my family,” she said in a trembling voice, like she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

 

Lupin bent down to look at the headline.  “GREENGRASS HEIRESS MISSING; FAMILY OFFERS NO COMMENT,” the Daily Prophet screamed.

 

Looking up, Lupin saw Daphne with a strange look on her face.  “Why hasn’t your family said anything?” Lupin wondered aloud.

 

“Probably politics,” Daphne answered, “they don’t want to admit that they failed to protect me-“ “ control me,” she thought- “and I got bitten and disowned as a result, it makes them look weak.”

 

“I see,” Lupin said, “but what do you think they’ll do now? They can’t keep pretending you’re on holiday or something forever.”

 

Daphne nodded, trying to suppress tears as words and faces and walls were dredged up from her memory.  Eventually, she mused, “I...I don’t know. Maybe someone figures out the truth, or maybe they try and pin my tragic demise on another family they’re trying to get rid of. It doesn’t matter, really, they’re not my family anymore.”

 

Lupin met her eyes. “Do you really mean that?” he asked gently.

 

She sniffled a little; “Yeah,” she replied, “I do. They wanted to get rid of me? Well, congratulations, they got rid of me. They’re not my problem anymore.”

 

Lupin walked around the table and hugged her. Daphne clung to him, letting the tears out.

That was another difference between Lupin and her old father: Lupin showed her that crying wasn’t showing weakness, it was part of healing and coming back stronger.  “C-can I keep staying with you?” Daphne asked timidly.

 

“Of course, Daphne. My home is your home, for as long as you’ll tolerate a decrepit old man like me,” Lupin said.

 

The tears flowed even more after that.

 

When the hug ended, Daphne had one last question to ask.  “How?” she wondered, “how can you be so certain when you let a stranger into your home? I...I could never do that.”

 

Lupin’s smile was kind, and distant, and tragic in a way that Daphne couldn’t quite put her finger on.  “It’s not that hard,” he said, “after all, where else would you go?”

 

Daphne didn’t have a counter for that; all her Slytherin cunning and political training and intrigue failed in the face of a simple, ironclad statement.

 

“Even if nobody else will help you, I will.”

 

What could her fears be but smoke in front of such unthinking, automatic kindness?

 

*****

 

As the full moon started getting closer, Daphne started getting twitchy.  She could feel it creeping in her veins. The call of her instincts got louder and louder with each passing day.  Lupin looked even more tired than usual; now, Daphne understood why. It was exhausting to war against your own mind, knowing you’ll lose the battle in the end.

 

Until finally, the day arrived.  Daphne knew she didn’t have much time left, and she was on the verge of panic, until Lupin came to her with a potion.  “Here,” he said quietly, “Wolfsbane.”

 

Daphne accepted it, seeing Lupin had an identical one in his own hand.  “H-How does it work?” she asked.

 

“We drink it before nightfall,” Lupin explains, “and...well, have you turned before?”

 

Daphne nodded. “Once,” she said, “and it was... awful.”  She thought back to that terrible night.  She’d been so frantic, trying to keep herself secret, that she hadn’t noticed the small changes leading up to it that she noticed now. But she’d known her lunar calendar, known it was coming, been ready to fight it every step of the way.

 

It hadn’t mattered.

 

It had felt like a puppet master had been slowly taking over her body, like she was bursting at the seams, screaming soundlessly because she didn’t have vocal cords anymore.  Then it had reached her mind, and she’d stopped screaming.

 

Daphne was jerked back to the cabin by a hand on her shoulder. Lupin nodded knowingly; he didn’t need details to know what she’d gone through, he’d lived it countless times.  “This potion,” he said, “weakens the transformation dramatically, and lets you...steer it a little, I guess. You can’t fight it entirely; lycanthropy is old magic, and old magic like that is too strong. But you can turn yourself into a harmless wolf, then curl up and go to sleep.”

 

Daphne nodded, looking at the poison-green potion.

 

Lupin checked his watch. “Alright, it’s time,” he told her, “bottoms up.”  Together, they drank.  Daphne gagged as it touched her tongue; it was vile.

 

She drank it anyway.

 

As soon as they were done, Lupin spelled and locked every door and window, then said, “I’ll see you in the morning, Daphne.”

 

She replied, “Goodnight, Lupin. I’ll try not to bite anybody.”

He chuckled as he closed his bedroom door.

 

Daphne curled up on her bed, shuddering as she felt the potion working its way through her system.  To think, a month ago she’d been at the very top of magical Britain’s social ladder, and now, she was trying desperately not to vomit in a tiny cabin, hoping that she wouldn’t become an unthinking killing machine.  Well, it was certainly more interesting than going to more summer parties, that was for sure.

 

Daphne felt a wave of black, coarse hair start to creep its way up her arms, and closed her eyes.  Instead of fighting the transformation, she leaned into it, telling it where to go. It was like slipping into a warm, familiar coat.  This time, there was no pain. It wasn’t comfortable, either, but Daphne had long since gotten used to discomfort. It came with the territory.  Bones bent, flesh shifted, fur sprouted; bit by bit, she felt herself become a wolf. Not a werewolf, a normal, simple wolf.  Relief flooded her. She was safe. It had worked.  Then, she followed Lupin’s advice and went to sleep. 

 

*****

 

For a week, Daphne was walking on sunshine.   The cloud of fear, the belief that deep down she was still a monster, was finally lifted.  She became bolder, going on more trips into town for supplies or just to enjoy being free.

 

The Muggle villagers accepted her warmly; they were glad Lupin’s daughter was settling in here; she'd clearly had a tough life before now.  The magical villagers, meanwhile, could’ve sworn that that strange girl staying with the Potters’ old werewolf friend looked awfully familiar...could it be that missing Greengrass girl? No, impossible; this girl had an unmistakable scar down one cheek, the pureblood princess definitely wouldn’t have that.

 

Daphne ignored them; she wanted to be her true self before she returned to the wizarding world.  And then, one day, Daphne came home, and Lupin wasn’t alone.

 

*****

 

Albus Dumbledore, Very-Important-Man-People-Still-Didn’t-Listen-To, took a sip of his tea as he regarded his old student.  “How have you been, my boy?” he asked, “had anything interesting happen over the summer?”

 

“Well, I accidentally became a father,” Lupin thought, “but I have no idea how to talk about that.”

 

“Well, not really. Mostly been reading the news,” the werewolf replied.

 

Albus nodded thoughtfully. “Hmm, always a pleasant distraction,” he mused, “say, have you heard anything on this matter of Daphne Greengrass vanishing? Half the country is up in arms about it, yet nobody can find her. I’ve been looking for her myself, of course; her parents may be Dark, but she is still my student, and I want to make sure she’s safe.”

 

Lupin twitched a little.  “Oh, uh, actually, I have heard something about that,” he said sheepishly.

 

Albus raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What have you heard?” he asked.

 

“Well, you see-“ Lupin began, only for the door to slam open and cut him off.

 

“Hey, Lupin, I noticed we were out of milk again this morning, so I went ahead and got some while I was out,” Daphne said.

 

Albus spat out his tea, and Daphne finally noticed him.  “Wait, Professor Dumbledore?” she said incredulously, “what are you doing here?”

 

Recovering himself, Albus said, “I might ask the same of you, my dear. Everyone has been looking for you for more than a month! Your parents are distraught!”

 

Daphne snorted. “Yeah, I doubt that,” she said, “considering the fact that they disowned me.”

 

Albus’s eyes widened. “Why would they do that?” he asked in disbelief.  Daphne hesitated, looking at Lupin for advice. Lupin looked taken aback for a second, but then nodded.

 

Slowly, Daphne said, “I...got bit by a werewolf early in the summer. I tried to hide it, but when I turned, my parents found out. They disowned me on the spot, kicked me out of the house. I broke down, ran for days until I collapsed. Mr. Lupin found me nearly dead on the moor and brought me here.”

 

Albus was in shock. They’d done what to his student? But he could see the girl was looking to him for his reaction; no doubt, she was terrified, knowing all too well how most wizards reacted to werewolves.  

 

Albus Dumbledore was not most wizards.

 

He cleared his throat, then said, “I see. Clearly, Remus, you have understated how interesting your summer has been. Miss Daphne, why don’t you come sit down? I’m sure you have quite the story to tell.”

 

She did, plopping down in the comfy armchair that Albus conjured with a wave of his wand.  She opened her mouth and began to speak, Remus only adding things in where Daphne faltered; 

 

Albus let them speak.  As they did, he noticed how much the girl had changed over the course of the summer.  In her first two years at Hogwarts, she’d struck Albus as a fairly standard pureblood princess, icy and reserved, poisoned by a childhood spent stewing in the cesspits of hateful ideology that were the pureblood families of magical Britain. Now, though, she’d expunged every last drop of that idle hate, revealing a kind, insightful, and practical young woman with a core of psychological scar tissue that always accompanied healing from such a terrible event as what she’d gone through.

 

They say that a crisis reveals one’s true identity, Albus mused, and Daphne Greengrass had clearly had an unparalleled crisis.  But as he listened to her story, he found it harder and harder to stay calm. This girl had gone through more than any student deserved- especially one so young. Becoming a werewolf in her echelon of society would have been bad enough. But for her family to disown her?

 

It made Albus furious. As soon as he was done here, he was going to be having words with House Greengrass.  At last, though, Daphne was done. She and Remus looked at Albus for his response.

 

Albus began, “Miss Daphne, I am so sorry you had to go through that. If I understand correctly, you’re afraid of being kept out of Hogwarts, yes?”

 

Daphne nodded silently.

 

“Well, do not worry, my dear. I will make sure you can return. After all, we have one of the premier Potions Masters in Britain, Wolfsbane will be freely and easily available to you there.”

 

Daphne’s shoulders slumped in relief, but her eyes were still worried. She said, “Thank you so much, Professor Dumbledore, but...I’m also worried about going back to Slytherin House like this. Everyone will know, and I’ll be everyone’s target.”

 

Albus nodded thoughtfully; how was he going to ensure her safety?  Then, it hit him. Harry.

 

“Well, I cannot say for sure. If absolutely necessary to ensure your safety, House transfers are possible, but I also have another idea. I know a small group of students who are among the most loyal and protective young people I have ever met. I will ask them to help support you, if you wish,” Albus replied.

 

Daphne looked hopeful, but her eyes still narrowed. She asked, “Who are these students?”

“Harry Potter and his friends,” Albus answered truthfully.

 

Remus looked uncertain, but Daphne thought about it for a second. 

 

Finally, she said, “Okay.”

 

Remus said, “Daphne, are you sure about this?”

 

She looked back at the man who had taken her in and replied, “Yes, I’m sure. If there’s one thing every person in Hogwarts knows, it’s that Harry Potter would fight a dragon for his friends. If… if I can count myself among them… maybe I won’t feel so alone anymore. Maybe I can have a group of friends like you had at Hogwarts.”

 

Albus raised an eyebrow. He’d already picked up on the dynamic of these two; it was much closer to father and daughter than anything else, and that pleased him.  There was no way in hell he was letting Daphne stay anywhere else than with Lupin.

 

But still, the thought of Harry forming a second Marauders...was exciting, in all honesty.  He hoped that Minerva would survive… and not blame him.

 

But that was an issue for another time. For now, Albus said, “Thank you, Miss Daphne. Do you mind giving me and Remus a few minutes to talk?” 

 

“Of course!” she replied, leaving the cabin.

 

Albus and his old student looked at each other for a moment.

 

“Do you think asking Harry to protect her will work?” Remus asked.

 

“I know it will work,” Albus replied, “Harry Potter has this… air about him, this ceaseless drive to gather the lost, the scared, and the broken around him, and they flock to him like moths to a flame, and grow stronger for it. It is an inspiring sight.”

 

Remus stroked his chin thoughtfully; Albus noticed he’d clearly been shaving more recently.  “Where do you suppose he got that from?” he wondered, “Neither James or Lily ever had anything like that.”

 

Albus nodded; he knew where it came from, but he wasn’t sure if he should tell a scared father the truth.  “Indeed, it is a rare gift,” Albus agreed, “in fact, I have only ever seen it in one other student I have taught.”

 

“Who?” Remus asked.

 

Albus shifted uncomfortably.  “It is not an example to emulate,” he warned.

 

Remus’s eyes hardened. “Professor,” he said, “who was it?”

Fuck it; Albus had seen where lies and half-truths had gotten him (two graves, a family destroyed, a lover gone mad). He was done lying.  Albus replied, “It was the man who gave Harry his scar.”

 

There was dead silence for a long moment after that, and then Remus said, “Why did you come here originally?”

 

“I am in need of a Defense teacher,” Albus replied, “I wished to offer the spot to you.”

 

Remus looked at him. “Will I get to meet Harry after all this time?” he asked.

 

Albus nodded. “In addition, you can help keep Daphne safe,” he pointed out.  He knew he’d won; he could see it in Remus’s eyes.

 

“Okay,” the skinny man said, “I’ll do it.”

 

Albus smiled. “Wonderful!” he declared, “now, I’m off to speak with House Greengrass about their... conduct.”  Albus’s growl left no doubt about what kind of speaking he meant. 

As he exited the door, Remus said, “Professor?”  Albus turned, and Remus had the old fire in his eyes, the one Albus hadn’t seen since James and Lily Potter had died, since Lupin had become the last of the Marauders.

 

Lupin requested, “Fuck them up, okay? For what they did to her.”  Albus nodded, and left the cabin, Apparating a second later.

 

Soon afterwards, Daphne re-entered the cabin, seeing Lupin calmly sitting in his chair.

“So…what was that about?” she asked.

 

Lupin grinned. “Well, apparently I’m the new Defense teacher at Hogwarts,” he replied lightly.

 

*****

 

As Ron stepped into the bedroom he now shared with…with his wife, his mind was a million miles away. As a result, he didn’t register Ari calling his name for a few moments.

 

“Oh, uh, sorry,” he said sheepishly. “What were you saying?”

 

Ari looked at him oddly… or maybe that was just the effect of her eight beady black eyes and the fanged mouthparts lurking behind those plush, rose-tinted lips. Even after months of spending time around her every day, and sleeping next to her every night, Ron still felt unnerved by her face.

 

“I was asking if you were well,” she asked in her usual prim, not-quite-foreign accent. “You seem… troubled.”

 

Ron sighed. The magic marriage-bond between him and Ari did quite a few things–it gave the two of them an unblockable ability to know where each other were, let him draw on her magic in a pinch and vice versa, and even provided some amount of resistance against many Dark curses. But it also let them know what the other was thinking, which made it very, very hard to keep secrets or have any amount of privacy. 

 

“I’m fine, really,” he assured Ari. “It’s just, well…Mom just told me that someone we know from Hogwarts has gone missing.”

 

Ari looked concerned. “Who?” she asked, mouthparts buzzing slightly as she parted her lips.

 

“Daphne Greengrass,” Ron said. 

 

Ari frowned for a moment. “One of the girls who shouted at us in the Great Hall?” she asked eventually, drawing a nod from Ron. “I see. And this upsets you?”

 

Ron hesitated. “It doesn’t bother you?” he asked back.

 

Ari was quiet for a moment, and once again, her inhuman features made her expression completely inscrutable. Ron fumbled for the bond, and got an echo of unease back.  At last, Ari sighed. “Acromantuala morality, yes?” she said, making Ron recall their previous conversations about her people’s morals. He nodded. “We do not see the loss of an enemy, or a rival, as something to mourn. I understand it is different for you, but…” 

She shrugged, and Ron, moving purely off of instinct, wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Ari sighed, snuggling into the touch and laying her head against Ron’s shoulder. For the first time since he’d been married to her, Ron really, truly felt like he’d settled into sharing everything with this strange, not-quite-human woman.

 

“It’s not really that I’m mourning,” he said at last, making Ari stir. “I’m just…I dunno. Kind of a shitty way to end the day, y’know?”

 

Ari hummed, glancing out at the last rays of the dying sun. She glanced back at the door to the hallway, seeing that it was locked. She nodded to herself.

 

And then, she stretched up and kissed Ron deeply.

 

He jolted in surprise, partially at the unexpected kiss, and partially because he felt Ari’s mouthparts buzzing just behind her lips. His surprise was so great, it took him a second to protest when Ari rolled them both over, landing him on his back as she straddled his hips.

At last, Ron got ahold of himself and pulled back, making Ari look hurt as he gasped, “Whoa, whoa? What are you doing?”

 

Ari tilted her head quizzically. “You just said that receiving this news was a poor way to end the day,” she said reasonably. “I am offering a better way to end it.”

 

As if to prove her point, she reached for the hem of her shirt–which was made of her own silk, as was all her clothing, since Ari derided all human-made cloth as being of “inferior weave” and refused to wear any of it.

 

Ron’s eyes widened. “Wha…whoa, slow down!” he protested, making Ari’s hand freeze in place. “That’s…we’re…it’s a little too quick, y’know? And my mom would kill u-”

 

Ari snorted. She leaned in close, still straddling Ron, until her lips and eight beady eyes and mouthparts were mere inches from his skin. “Your mother will do nothing,” she assured him.  “We are married, bonded by law and magic. And besides, we have been sharing a bed for months now. If she was so opposed to me having my way with her son, she would have put up a stiffer fight at the beginning.”

 

Ron gulped. “Sure, but…” he began, unsure if he wanted to flinch away from the kisses Ari was now starting to pepper down his neck or lean into them. “This just feels a little…I don’t know, sudden?”

 

Ari didn’t have eyebrows to raise, but she certainly managed to give off the impression of doing so as she pressed her lips to Ron’s ear. “Ronald Weasley,” she buzzed, “I have made no secret of the fact that I want you. I have wanted you from the moment I saw you. And remember, I can see your thoughts. I know you want me too. What would be sudden about a married couple enjoying each other?”

 

Ron closed his eyes as Ari’s mouthparts brushed against his ear. As if burned, she yanked back, finally understanding.

 

“Oh,” she murmured weakly. “Is it…do I still disturb you so greatly?”  She sounded heartbroken, and it hit Ron right in the gut. 

 

Could he really keep doing this to this beautiful woman, with her jet-black hair and porcelain-pale skin, the woman who’d willingly bound herself to him to get him and Harry to safety? Was he really that afraid of her because she had a few extra eyes and appendages?  Was he such a coward?

 

Ari looked away from him, and it was at that point that Ron remembered all over again that, despite the way she acted, despite her confidence and her skill, Ari was the same age as him, and she’d never navigated these tangled intimacies before, either. 

 

“If you don’t want to do this,” she began softly, “Please, just say so. I’ll understand. I won’t be hurt.”

 

The faintest tingle of lie, lie, liar whispered along their bond, and Ron made his decision. Yes, he wanted this woman. Yes, she was gorgeous, her body perfect, yes, she wanted him; everything about her was incredible. And he wasn’t willing to merely overlook or tolerate the parts of her that unnerved and scared him. She deserved better than that.

 

So, he took the most Gryffindor approach possible.  “Ari,” he said, opening his eyes, “you can open your mouth.”

 

Ari stared at him, all eight eyes locked solely on his face. She kept her mouth closed for a reason. Because early on, she’d opened it, and the sight of her glinting fangs and buzzing mandibles, stretching as she yawned, had rendered Ron unable to look at her for days. And under it all, Ron knew that Ari didn’t want to hurt him. That she, in her inhuman, odd, peculiar way, had come to love him already.  “Are you sure?” she asked softly, timidly. Ron nodded.

 

Ari obliged him, slowly and nervously. Bit by bit, her red, beautiful lips parted, revealing fangs and mandibles, the most arachnid parts of her other than her eyes and her silk, the pieces that she could never get rid of, even at her most human. Her mouthparts buzzed, twitching like limbs.

 

Ron reached out for her, slipping one arm, then two, around Ari’s back. He pulled her to him, gently, sweetly. And then, as her eyes watched him unblinkingly, he pressed a kiss to her lips.

Her mandibles twitched in surprise, outstretched on either side of his face, brushing lightly against his cheeks; they had hair like a tarantula’s, short stubby bristles that tickled as they stroked over his skin. He deftly avoided her fangs as he kissed her, and then at last her hands came up to cup the back of his head, kissing him back just as eagerly. He didn’t flinch from the embrace of her mandibles, and didn’t avoid her fangs or her eyes. He felt the nerves well up in his stomach, but pushed through them to treat this woman the way she deserved to be treated.

 

When the kiss finally broke, Ari was looking at him with love in her jet-black eyes.   “You are too good to me, husband,” she murmured. “Do you…want to…”

 

Ron nodded. “Can we…go slow?” he asked softly. He tried and failed to suppress the shiver that went through him at the way Ari said “husband.”

 

Ari smiled, and this time it was a full smile, fangs, mandibles, and all. Ron barely even noticed.  “Of course,” she said, and Ron realized from her grin that Ari had noticed his reaction, and that she liked the way it made him react. “As slow as you want, husband. But I meant what I said. I am yours, and you are mine.”

 

Ron shuddered again. This time, he didn’t stop Ari as she reached for the hem of her shirt.

He didn’t stop what happened next, either. 

*****

 

Lord Jacob Greengrass was working late in his study on a stormy night, lightning flashing outside the ancient, enchanted windows of the eight-century-old family estate, when the wards alerted him to the appearance of a visitor.

Setting aside his quill, Jacob grumbled, “What kind of inept fool would want to see me at this hour?”

 

Swiftly making his way downstairs, Jacob happened to pass by the room that had once belonged to his eldest daughter. He shuddered just at the memory of those howls, at the reminder of how close his family had come to being wiped off the map, or at least politically destroyed, thanks to the actions of that foolish girl. It was a miracle worthy of Merlin himself that it had only cost him one daughter lost to such an awful fate.

 

Jacob couldn’t help but feel a pang of loss at what had happened to Daphne. Truly a tragic end for her, to be bitten and turned into such a terrible beast. So much potential, so much effort expended on making her a proper heiress to his house, and she’d failed to make anything of herself in the end.  He’d raised her, and all she’d done was disappoint him and shame her house. Well, he’d washed his hands of her, and good riddance.

 

At last, Jacob made his way to the door. Not bothering to check the wards again or worry about potential risks (he was a pureblood Lord, he could defend himself perfectly well if it came to that, and it was peacetime, he had no enemies who wanted him dead that badly), he threw open the door just as a flash of lightning turned the world white.

 

When he saw who it was, Jacob had to force his face to remain an impassive mask. What was this old fool doing here?

 

Albus Dumbledore stood patiently on his doorstep, face twitching with restrained emotion, hands combing through his long white beard. He was perfectly dry, despite the pouring rain beating down on him.

 

Courteously, Jacob said, “Headmaster Dumbledore, this is unexpected. What brings you here?”

 

“I have come,” Dumbledore said stonily as thunder rumbled behind him, “to discuss your daughter.”

 

“What are you talking about? Astoria doesn’t start Hogwarts for a few weeks yet,” Jacob Greengrass replied, confused.

 

Dumbledore’s eyes flashed dangerously, and then were calm again, as though he’d found what he was looking for. In that moment, Lord Greengrass saw not the kindly headmaster of Hogwarts, but the man who had broken the second-greatest Dark Lord in European history like a twig over his knee.  “I was speaking of your other daughter,” Dumbledore said.

 

Jacob’s expression soured as he thought of that foolish girl. She was almost certainly dead in a ditch somewhere by now, what did Dumbledore hope to gain by talking about her?

Calmly, he said, “I have no other daughters.”

 

“Oh?” Dumbledore asked in a low, humorless voice, “I remember differently. Daphne was quite an interesting student, and I was devastated to hear the news of her disappearance.”

 

Jacob tensed as Dumbledore’s tone grew more hostile. He stood aside, and Dumbledore entered. The two wizards made their way into the sitting room, where Jacob’s wife, Sunny, was already waiting, blinking back sleep but ramrod-straight as a pureblooded noblewoman should always be.

 

When they were all settled, Jacob replied, “Indeed. It has affected my wife and I deeply, especially as time has gone on, and we are forced to accept the likelihood that our daughter is dead.”

 

Sunny slumped a tiny bit next to him; she hadn’t been happy about the loss of their eldest child, though she’d understood the necessity of it as much as Jacob had.

 

“Of course,” Dumbledore said somberly, “my deepest condolences. Losing a child is always a tragedy, one that I have seen all too often myself.”

 

Jacob nodded suspiciously, still waiting for Dumbledore to get to the point.

 

It came a moment later, when Dumbledore continued, “Imagine my surprise, then, when I happened across her not twelve hours ago, hale and hearty and under the care of a personal friend of mine.”

 

Jacob’s jaw dropped, and Sunny let out a tiny gasp. They were reeling, shocked by the potential risk Daphne posed to them now.  She wasn’t just alive, she was in the hands of one of their political opponents. This could be devastating, if Magical Britain discovered what their daughter had become.

 

Instantly, Jacob realized that he had to bluff it out. He began, “Why, that’s incredible! We have to get her back, immediately! Thank you, Headmaster, for telling us.”

 

Dumbledore looked utterly unimpressed. “With all due respect, Lord and Lady Greengrass, drop your bullshit,” he snapped, the polite veneer finally cracking.

 

Sunny gasped, “How dare you speak to us like that!”

 

“I dare,” Dumbledore interrupted, “because of what you did to your eldest daughter.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Sunny asked, attempting to join her husband’s bluff.

 

Dumbledore explained, “You see, Daphne had a fascinating story to tell me when I met her today. Fascinating, and heartbreaking.”

 

Jacob realized that the bluff wouldn’t work; Dumbledore knew everything. Jumping to his feet, Jacob shouted, “If you’ve seen her, you know what she is! She’s a monster, nothing more! That thing is no longer my daughter!”

 

“So that’s your excuse,” Dumbledore whispered, his eyes shining with grief and pain, “that’s why you disowned your own child. You truly believe that she’s some sort of...unthinking animal now.”

Jacob and Sunny nodded, a little confused about Dumbledore’s words. Of course Daphne was a monster; she was a werewolf, for crying out loud! She was a danger to everyone around her, period.

 

“I see. In that case, I suppose I have no regrets about doing this on her behalf,” Dumbledore announced as he stood, towering over both of the purebloods in his flowing robes. His eyes were hard and unflinching, filled with righteous fury.

 

Jacob’s eyes widened as Dumbledore drew his wand. Sunny threw out her hand and yelled, “Wait! What are you doing? You can’t just...attack us!  You’ll be sent to Azkaban for a crime like that!”

 

“Oh, really?” Dumbledore countered, his lips twisting into a humorless, bloody smile, “I’m the criminal here?”

 

“You are!” Jacob replied, “we were completely within our rights to disown Daphne for getting bitten! She’s not even human anymore under the law!”

 

“Unfortunately, you’re right on both counts,” Dumbledore sighed, twirling his wand in his fingers, “which leaves my hands rather tied.”

Jacob started to relax again, just a little. Maybe this wouldn’t end badly after all…

 

Then, Dumbledore said, “Unfortunately for you, I don’t particularly care. I suppose I’ll just have to dispense my own justice in this situation.”  Out of options, Jacob went for his wand. Before he could even get it halfway out of the holster, though, Dumbledore’s wand glowed white, and Jacob collapsed to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, unable to move.

 

The Greengrasses watched in helpless terror as Dumbledore approached them, raw magic swirling into a cyclone around him.  Dumbledore raised his wand again, and spat, “Let this be a lesson: Never touch another one of my students again.”

 

A bright red light filled the room, blocking out everything else, even the flashes of lightning outside. The light would have been visible from miles away through the windows of the manor, had anyone been around to see it. For a moment, there was nothing but that terrible light, turning everything into a demonic caricature of reality.

 

And then the screaming started.

Chapter 19

Chapter by ColdLuigi

Notes:

No, we are not going to elaborate on why this chapter is coming out.

Don’t worry about it.

Returning to Diagon Alley was the scariest thing Daphne had ever done.  The last time she’d been here, she had paraded down the center of the street like she owned the place, picked out the finest items in each shop, and made sure to remind everyone that she was better than them.  Then she’d been bitten, and realized that she wasn’t one jot more important; in fact, she wasn’t even considered human anymore by most people.

 

And of course, all that wealth and status was gone, too, locked away from her forever like her old home had been.  Sitting in front of Fortescue’s, she pondered the crazy turn her life had taken.  For the past six weeks, she’d gradually healed and rebuilt herself, turning from a spoiled, hateful pureblood princess to someone she thought was a far better person. She’d replaced obsessive political training with a love of working with her hands, arrogance with a knowledge of what it was like to have nothing, reliance on manipulating others with the ability to rely on herself. Where she’d once been cruel, she’d learned kindness. 

 

Werewolf Daphne knew who she was, and she liked what she’d become with Lupin’s help.  Daphne wasn’t without her scars, of course, physical and mental; she knew the long claw mark down the side of one cheek would always be with her, a reminder of the agony that had been her first turning. On the inside, she was still terrified of being left alone again, of waking up one day and finding out that she was just a monster again. Daphne didn’t think she’d ever be able to forget the last words her father had said to her.

 

“You’re just the beast that killed my daughter!”

 

Daphne felt a hand on her shoulder, shaking her out of dark memories.  “You still nervous?” her savior asked.

 

Daphne smiled. “A little,” she admitted.

 

Remus Lupin smiled back as he replied, “I suppose that’s only fair. The first time I was out in public after I turned, I was convinced everyone saw right through me. But they didn’t. You’re going to be fine, Daphne.”

 

Daphne’s heart lifted as it always did, but a ball of fear remained in her gut. She tried to mask it by joking, “Easy for you to say. You weren’t a prominent socialite before you turned, unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”

 

Lupin laughed. “Are you doubting my roguish good looks?”

 

Daphne raised her eyebrow as she glanced at the man who was just about the only half-decent father figure she’d ever had (not that she knew how to tell him that); he’d cleaned up significantly in the last few weeks, sure, but he still looked like he’d missed about a year’s worth of sleep.

 

“Roguish good looks” is not what I’d call it,” Daphne informed him.

 

“Oh? Then what would you call it?” Lupin asked teasingly.

 

Daphne pursed her lips, stroking her chin thoughtfully.  “Scruffy,” she said eventually.

 

Now it was Lupin’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Scruffy? Really?”

 

Daphne nodded, even though she was aware that by the standards she’d once been held to, she was probably not much better. Casual Muggle clothes from the trip to Diagon, hair bound tightly into a bun (a style she’d found worked best for helping Lupin with tricky repair jobs), and of course, the red, angry scar all made her look more like a Muggleborn or half-blood than anything else.  Of course, her appearance also made it much less likely that anyone would recognize her as the still-missing pureblood girl, which she was more than fine with. As far as she was concerned, old Daphne Greengrass would stay lost on the moors forever.

 

It was only then that Daphne realized that Lupin had expertly managed to get her mind off her old fears. “You clever old dog,” she thought.

 

It was time to move on, though.  “So, why are we here again, other than to pick up my school stuff?” Daphne asked. She was glad her Hogwarts letter for the year had come to Lupin’s house, even if she still wasn’t sure how the hell that worked.

 

“Well, I figured I’d go ahead and reach out to Molly Weasley to see if you couldn’t meet Harry and his friends before school started,” Lupin explained.

 

Daphne fidgeted nervously. “So...they’re going to be here?” she asked.

 

Lupin nodded and said, “Yeah. Is that okay?”

 

“Of course. I’m just a little anxious, though, about how they’ll receive me. I… wasn’t great to them last year, especially Hermione.” Daphne admitted. She was trying to be better with talking about her fears; Lupin was really good at helping her face them. 

 

He assured her, “I doubt Dumbledore would ask them to help you if they were the type to hold grudges. Besides, if Harry’s anything like his parents, you’ll be in good hands.”

 

Daphne nodded thoughtfully; Lupin may have told her about his past, but it was still pretty strange to think about this shabby man being a war hero who’d been best friends with people as famous (and infamous) as the Potters and Sirius Black. She said, “You do know we aren’t always like our parents, right?”

 

“Yes, I do,” Lupin replied, “but I still say that you’ll be fine. I certainly hope that we can be different from our parents, though, or else where would you be?”

 

“I don’t know,” Daphne said lightly, “after all, I can’t really disown myself , can I?”  Maybe she shouldn’t have joked about that, but Daphne had… well, not come to terms with it, but accepted that it had happened. What mattered now was what she did with the new life she was fashioning for herself.

 

Lupin’s eyes were, as usual, understanding as he watched her across the table. Then, he glanced to the side, and beamed at someone in the distance.  “Well, here they are,” he said.  Daphne took a deep breath and prepared to meet Harry Potter for real.

 

*****

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been slightly surprised when Molly Weasley had told them that they were going to be doing their shopping for the upcoming Hogwarts year without Ginny, and with Bella and Ari staying behind. Neither of the monstergirls had been particularly upset about that, it turned out; neither were fans of London or crowds of humans, and they were quite content to remain at the Burrow.

 

Even so, it wasn’t until they had entered Diagon Alley that Hermione asked, “Molly, why are we here, again?”

 

As she led them out into the street, the older woman said, “We’re meeting an old friend of Harry’s parents. Apparently, Dumbledore wants you to help a student he knows.”

 

“Wait, what?” Harry said, startled, “I knew he wanted us to meet the student, but what do you mean, an old friend of my parents? Why didn’t I know about him?”

 

“Dumbledore has been pretty distracted lately,” Molly said, “it must be that business with the Greengrass girl. Dreadful, that. First, she goes missing, and then that happens to her parents…”  Hermione, Harry, and Ron shuddered involuntarily, remembering the news reports. 

 

“What do you think happened to her?” Hermione asked.

 

“Best case scenario, she got fed up with pureblood bullshit and ran away,” Ron replied, “worst case scenario… well. If there’s one thing wizards are good at, it’s coming up with nasty ways to kill somebody.”

 

Hermione clutched at Harry’s hand as she winced. He responded in the same way, offering reassurance.

 

Molly boxed her son’s ear, telling him, “Ron, stop that! And as for your parents’ old friend, Harry, you’ll meet him soon. While I don’t approve of what he’s done...I think you’ll see his reason for not being around earlier soon.”

 

That didn’t make Harry any more excited about this whole trip, but he didn’t have time to question it.

 

Molly pointed to Fortescue’s, where a shabby man and a blonde girl in Muggle clothes were sitting at one of the outside tables. “There they are,” she said, “let’s go introduce ourselves.”

 

The very first thing Molly did was march up to the shabbily dressed man and grab his ear.

As Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched in confusion, she shouted, “Remus Lupin, where have you been for these past twenty years?”

 

Wincing, the newly named Lupin replied, “Good to see you haven’t changed, Molly! I’ve been...around, you know?”

 

The blonde girl had already started to jump out of her seat, maybe to defend Lupin, when she heard the greeting and sat back down.

 

Harry took the opportunity to study her. She felt...familiar, somehow, although he could only see a part of her face, and it certainly didn’t seem like any he’d ever seen.  Beside him, Ron was staring with a strange look on his face, while Hermione was just as confused as Harry was.  Finally, Molly turned to the girl, a clear expression of confusion on her face. 

 

“Remus, who is this?” she asked, “is she your daughter?”

 

Instantly, Remus and the girl started frantically blushing. Lupin said, “Oh, no, no, this is… well, I’ll let you handle this, okay?”

 

He gestured to the girl, who nodded. Slowly, she turned halfway towards the group, then paused, clearly nervous. As she did, Ron took a deep breath.  “Holy shit, Greengrass?” he said in disbelief.

 

Harry did a double-take. That was the missing Slytherin girl, alright. What the hell was she doing here?  Daphne’s smile was frozen, fixed, and her visible eye was shining with fear. Wordlessly, she nodded.

 

“H-hello there,” she said in a cracking, scared voice, so unlike the haughty pureblood girl they remembered that it made Harry pause in his tracks.

 

Hermione hissed a little, and the sound made Daphne turn fully.

 

Harry stared in shock at the angry red scar that now covered part of her cheek. Four jagged lines ran parallel down the lower corner of her face; they couldn’t be anything but claw marks. The scar was clearly a few months old; it had begun to fade, but would never be entirely gone.  “W...what happened?” Harry whispered.

 

Daphne hesitated. “I...it’s a long story,” she said timidly, glancing at Lupin, who nodded encouragingly.

 

“Yeah, and you’ve been missing for six weeks,” Ron pointed out, “and Dumbledore just asked us to help you back at Hogwarts. What the hell is going on? You haven’t even called Harry “Potter” yet!”

 

Daphne snorted. “Oh, that’s how you know something’s wrong?” she said sarcastically.  Then, she softened again, seeming to draw into herself. “But...yeah, you’re right, you deserve to know if you’ve been asked to help me…” she admitted, “I… I got disowned by my family. Lupin took me in.”

 

As she spoke, Daphne looked at the shabby man, who smiled affectionately back at her. She returned the smile, which looked far too natural on her face compared to the sneers she had once worn.  Harry’s mind whirled. She’d gotten disowned? What kind of family would do that?  What had Daphne done?

 

A moment later, Hermione asked exactly that, saying, “Why did they disown you?”  Daphne went rigid, unconsciously trying to turn and keep her scar out of sight.

 

Ron has been quiet for a long moment, but as Daphne wilted under Hermione’s question, he asked quietly, “You got bit by a werewolf, didn’t you?”  Instantly, everyone froze, especially Daphne.

 

Molly snapped, “Ron! How dare you say something so-“

 

“How did you know?” Daphne asked softly.

 

Once again, everyone was quiet. Slowly, Ron replied, “Well, the scar helped. But other than that… you’re acting very shy, like you expect to be hunted down at any moment. And showing up in the presence of one of the most famous werewolves in Britain, who apparently took you in, is kind of a giveaway.”

 

Harry whipped back around to stare at Lupin, who seemed more surprised at being called famous than at being outed as a werewolf.

 

“I don’t know if I would call myself famous, ” the shabby man mused, “after all, I’ve done little more than live in a hut for the last twenty years or so.”

 

Ron shrugged. “Considering the fact that you’re the only werewolf ever mentioned in anything remotely like a positive light in anything I’ve ever read, I’d say you’ve won a very dubious prize,” he replied. “And most of that is just because you were known to be a friend of his parents.” Ron gestured at Harry, whose eyes went even wider at that.

 

“Ah, yes. I’d imagine you have many questions, don’t you?” Lupin asked kindly; his eyes were distant, but unlike many people, he seemed to see Harry, not James with Lily’s eyes.  Harry nodded wordlessly.

 

“I will answer them,” Lupin promised, “but I’m afraid that will have to wait. For now, I think Daphne should be our concern.”  Daphne steeled herself as the group’s gaze fell back on her.

 

“You are fine,” she reminded herself, “you are not a beast, they don’t hate you. They just want to understand.”

 

“F-forgive me if I don’t want to tell the entire story right now…” she began haltingly, “but… yes, Ron, you’re more or less correct. Two months ago, I got bitten by a werewolf. It was my own fault; I got curious about something I shouldn’t have.”

 

Harry and his friends sat down at extra chairs, gently allowing Daphne to continue.  She did, saying, “I tried to hide it, but… well, I turned. My parents found out, and disowned me on the spot. I… wasn’t thinking straight, and I ran off into the woods. A few days later, I collapsed from exhaustion not far from where Lupin was living. He carried me back to his home, nursed me back to health, and helped me cope with what had happened. For the last six weeks, I’ve been living with him.”

 

Harry nodded. “I see,” he said, “and why the Muggle clothes? Why...the rest of it?”

 

Daphne smiled weakly. “It isn’t quite my old style, true,” she agreed, “but I’ve spent those six weeks living in the Muggle world, mostly isolated from all the magical things I grew up with. I suppose it helped me… reevaluate things, learn for myself what the people I was brought up to hate were like. I have to say, I like them better than purebloods.”

 

Ron and Harry snorted in agreement, but Hermione looked confused.  “You just said purebloods like you aren’t one,” she pointed out.

 

Daphne smiled wryly. “I’m not, really, not anymore. Werewolves like us are even worse than Muggles in their eyes. We’re… we’re considered beasts, not even people anymore,” she answered, nodding at herself and Lupin. 

 

Hermione’s eyes widened. Now that, she could understand.

 

As Daphne looked down at her lap, scared of what their response would be, Hermione leapt out of her seat and threw her arms around the blonde girl.

 

Daphne tensed with shock as Hermione hugged her, the brown-haired girl’s agile tail curling around Daphne’s waist.

 

“You’re not a beast,” Hermione insisted, “you’re not.”

 

Daphne smiled weakly. “Th-thank you, Hermione,” she choked out.

 

Harry and Ron looked at each other. Ron raised his arms as if to say, “she’s your girlfriend, mate.”

 

Harry sighed, and got up to help pry Hermione off of Daphne, who was starting to tear up a little.

Once he’d done that, Harry knelt next to Daphne and asked, “How can we help, Daphne? You are coming back to Hogwarts, right?”

 

Daphne nodded and replied, “Yeah, Dumbledore already set things up. I’m just worried because… well, I’m in Slytherin, remember? And you know how Hermione got treated last year…”

 

The three Gryffindors tensed at the memories; the slurs, the taunts, the threats.  Daphne continued, “Considering that I’m one of their own, showing weakness… I’d be torn apart. Lupin, though… he said that he got through Hogwarts with a lot of help from friends, people he could trust. I… I don’t have any of that right now.”

 

“And you want to fall in with us,” Ron divined, “to give you protection?”

 

Daphne shrugged. “Kind of,” she admitted, “but I’m trying to stop seeing the world like that-like a pureblood out to screw everyone else over for their own gain. In Slytherin, you don’t have friends. I’m hoping to make some now.”

 

“You’re wrong,” her mind said treasonously, “you did have one friend.”

 

Ron nodded; he recalled a lonely, scrawny boy in the first-year compartment, who’d looked like he needed a friend. How was this any different?

 

“I see,” he said, “thanks for being honest.”

 

That left Harry, who only asked, “What do you need us to do?”

 

He’d made up his mind when Hermione had chosen to accept Daphne; now, he just needed to figure out a plan.

 

Daphne thought for a moment, then responded, “I’m… still figuring that out. Just being there would help a lot, you know? Hell, I’m not even sure what House I’m going to be in next year.”

 

Harry looked confused. “What do you mean?” he wondered.

 

Ron piped up, “House transfers. They’re rare, usually only used if a student is actively in danger or something serious is going on. I figure this counts.”

 

Daphne nodded, then continued, “Maybe, who knows what will happen? Other than that… I don’t know.”

 

Hermione hopped back into Daphne’s lap. Getting right into the blonde girl’s face, she promised, “We’re gonna be your friends. We’ll help you, okay?”

 

Daphne started blushing furiously at her closeness, but she managed a faint smile.  “Thank you,” she gasped as Hermione hugged her tightly.

 

Harry was awfully confused, watching the scene. Why did he keep feeling drawn to Daphne, especially when Hermione was… well, in her lap?  It was a very cute scene, definitely.

 

The group talked for a while longer, but at last, Molly suggested that they get on with their school shopping.  The Gryffindors immediately hopped up; Daphne was slower and more hesitant to leave. She looked to Lupin, who shooed her off with a gesture. Daphne turned back to get up, only to see Harry offering her a hand. A second’s hesitation later, she took it, almost daintily getting out of her chair and following the trio.

 

Lupin and Molly watched them go fondly.

 

Lupin said, “Those three are a hell of a team, Molly.”

 

“Don’t you mean those four now, Remus?” Molly said lightly.

 

Lupin shrugged. “I suppose I do,” he agreed, “they’ll be thick as thieves in no time, I hope. Now, what can I do for you?”

 

Molly’s face was serious as she slid into the chair opposite Lupin.  She replied, “You can start by explaining where the hell you’ve been all this time. After that, you and I need to talk. About why that girl looks at you like you’re her father, for one-“

 

Lupin tried to protest, but Molly’s glare had cowed Albus Dumbledore himself, and Lupin was no match for it.  Molly continued, “and on a much less...pleasant topic. Namely, your old friend, Sirius Black.”

 

Lupin’s eyes were old when they opened again. He leaned back in his chair and said, “Fine. Where should we start?”

 

*****

 

Walking down Diagon Alley with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Daphne felt like a different person.  She’d never acted like this with anyone before, even in private.  Trading jokes, laughing, acting like there wasn’t a care in the world…

 

It made Daphne feel light , somehow, her heart filling with warmth.  She was pretty sure it took them three times as long to get their school supplies as it had taken her on her meticulously-planned, in-depth movements in previous years, where the goal had been to be seen as much as it was to buy quills and books and robes.  Daphne found that she didn’t mind that it took longer, because spending time with Harry, Ron, and Hermione was just so much fun.

 

She’d found her place in their group more quickly than she’d expected; for a trio as legendary as these three, they acted more like regular students than anything else.

 

Watching Hermione make huge, glittering eyes at Harry to convince him to get catnip toys while Ron laughed his ass off in the background removed any sense of hero worship Daphne might have had, and replaced it with a powerful fondness for these people who had accepted her without question.

 

(For the record, Harry had gotten the treats. Daphne could tell that Hermione had that boy firmly wrapped around her paw.)

 

Unfortunately, the warmth couldn’t last forever. As Daphne and her new maybe-friends walked down the far end of Diagon Alley, Daphne ran into one of the few things from her past life she’d never truly cast off.  They had been shuffled aside in the traffic flow of people by a group clearly escorting some pureblood or other when Daphne made eye contact with Tracey Davis, whose face became a perfect mask of shock. 

 

Without warning, the pureblood girl instantly charged past her escorts and came directly towards Daphne. Before Harry, Hermione, or Ron could react, Davis was slamming into her and dragging her, off-balance, into a nearby alley. 

 

*****

 

By the time the three Gryffindors had processed what was going on and charged into the alley after Daphne, they found her pinned to the wall, with Tracey pointing her wand directly at them. In a low, dangerous voice, she demanded, “Stay away from her, Potter.”

 

The three responded by going for their own wands.  Daphne yanked Tracey’s hand away from the collar of her shirt and snapped, “What the hell are you doing, Tracey?”

 

Tracey turned back to her, replying, “What does it look like? I’m saving your a- oh Merlin, what did they do to your face?”  Tracey let Daphne go completely, her expression horrified as she finally saw Daphne’s scar, as well as her Muggle clothes.

 

Instinctively, Daphne’s hand flew up to her cheek, feeling the now-familiar map of ridged and broken skin under her fingers.

 

Tracey’s eyes hardened again. Brandishing her wand at Harry once more, she yelled, “You’re gonna pay for kidnapping her, you bastards!”

 

Her words left all four of them confused and off-guard. Daphne recovered first, and she said, “What the fuck are you talking about, Trace? I didn’t get kidnapped!”

 

“Then where the hell have you been for these past six weeks?” Tracey snapped, still pointing her wand at the trio who blocked the exit to the alleyway, “you just disappeared, and nobody knew where you went!”

 

“Trace…” Daphne began; she didn’t know what to say.

 

“You left me!” Daphne’s old friend cried.

 

Now, Daphne was remembering the truth of her past; even though she’d said she hadn’t had any friends in Slytherin, that wasn’t quite true. She’d had Tracey.  For as long as she’d known her fellow pureblood girl, they’d shared the closest thing to friendship people as trapped by rules and expectations and hate could share. They’d understood each other, how they’d both chafed at the restrictions and responsibilities they’d borne as pureblood heiresses. In a world where everyone betrayed everyone eventually, they’d had each other’s backs in the snake pit.  It wasn’t what she’d craved all these years, but it had been something, some connection with another person when such things were considered weak. And for Tracey, it had been the only thing she’d had. Daphne could see the chains around her old friend so clearly now, and the weaknesses.

 

Trust between the trapped was a precious thing. But Daphne was no longer trapped, and Tracey was still in the world she’d left behind.

 

Her vision narrowed; she no longer paid attention to Harry, Ron, or Hermione, their wands still aimed at Tracey. “I didn’t get fucking kidnapped, Tracey, I got disowned!” Daphne roared.

 

Tracey’s wand wavered as her eyes went wide. “D... Disowned?” she said in disbelief, “what happened? What did you do?”

 

“Nothing, except get curious,” Daphne muttered ruefully.

 

She raised her head to regard her old friend, eyes raging with emotion. She asked, “Do you really want to know?”

 

Tracey nodded wordlessly, slowly lowering her wand.

 

“ Fine,” Daphne spat, “ I got bitten by a werewolf.”

 

Instantly, Tracey’s wand came up again, but this time, it wasn’t pointed at the Gryffindors still watching the scene. It was aimed squarely at Daphne’s heart.

 

“Y...you’re one of them?” she said, her voice heartbreakingly soft.

 

“One of them,” Daphne thought, “not Daphne anymore, just “one of them.”  A hateful smile on her face, Daphne said, “Am I a werewolf? Yes, Tracey, yes I am. I’m still me, though, I’m still Daphne.”

 

Tracey’s wand arm was shaking visibly now, but she kept it trained on her old friend.  “I...I see,” she said weakly, “how long?”

 

“Since the beginning of the summer,” Daphne answered honestly, “ that’s why I got disowned, Trace. They threw me out of the house to die.”

 

Tracey flinched; her wand stayed up.  Daphne advanced another step towards Tracey and continued, “The last words my father ever said to me are seared into my mind, Tracey. Do you want to know what they were?”

 

Tracey screwed her eyes shut; she was shaking now.  Daphne didn’t relent; she took another step forward, unconsciously turning as she did so until the Gryffindors were behind her.

She said softly, dangerously, “He told me, “You’re just the beast that killed my daughter!” I still hear those words sometimes, in my nightmares. Please, Tracey, don’t call me a beast, too.”

 

Tracey flinched again. “I...I can’t…” she stammered, “W...what else were your parents supposed to do?”

 

“Help me, protect me, love me,” Daphne said, raw and emotional, “not key me out of the wards and dump me on the side of the road like trash. Do you know what I did?”

 

Daphne’s oldest friend shook her head.  Maybe Daphne shouldn’t be saying this, shouldn’t be doing this to Tracey, but she didn’t care. She was no longer speaking to Tracey. She was speaking to the whole “pure” world that had kicked her out.

 

“I ran,” Daphne supplied, “I ran for three straight days, until my legs gave out. I fell down on the moor, and I couldn’t get back up again. And you know what I did then? I laid down to die, Tracey.”

 

Tears were streaming down Tracey’s face now, but still her wand did not move.  “But I didn’t die, because someone chose to be kind . The only damn person who showed me kindness was Remus Lupin, who saved my life, and then my spirit,” Daphne said, by now close enough to see the glistening tear tracks on her old friend’s cheeks, “he taught me that everything I’d been raised to believe was wrong, wrong in the most horrible way possible. Sometimes, I wonder if I really did die out on that moor, if this is my rebirth. Because it sometimes feels that way.”

 

Daphne’s voice was soft, almost gentle, but Tracey jerked and shook with the words as if she was being struck with a hammer.

 

Daphne was crying now, too; she’d never bared herself this much to anyone, and now she was doing it for four people who could use it to destroy her. 

 

“Please, Trace,” she pleaded, “I’m still me. Look past the lies you’ve been told about my kind, and see me. It’s still me, Daphne.”

 

At last, Tracey couldn’t take it anymore. Daphne was too close; her mouth was just a few feet from Tracey’s ear, and she’d closed the distance so much the tip of Tracey’s wand was pressing against her shirt.

 

“G-get away from me!” she cried, jabbing her wand forward and forcing Daphne to back up.

 

Daphne stumbled; she looked up at her friend, and said, “Please…”

 

Tracey was crying openly now, but still, she said, “I...I’m sorry, Daph. Y-you’re...it’s not fair. Why did it have to be you?”

 

“It doesn’t have to be,” Daphne begged, “you can still stay with me.”

 

Tracey shook her head once, and replied, “I...I can’t do this...I have to go.”

 

She turned away from Daphne in a swirl of robes and tears, starting to run out of the alley.

Daphne asked, “Wait, where are you going?”

 

The Heiress of House Davis hesitated; for a moment, Daphne thought she was coming back.

Tracey answered, “To mourn a friend.”

 

Daphne felt desperate fury rise in her blood as Tracey shouldered her way past Ron and Hermione.  She spat, “The girl you’re mourning never existed! She was a puppet, a facade spewing hate she didn’t understand!”

 

Tracey replied, “She was real to me. And you were all I had. The only one I could trust.”

 

“Wait!” Daphne yelled one last time.  But it was too late; Tracey disappeared out of the alley and into Diagon itself, vanishing from view.

 

Daphne fell to her knees, crying openly. She’d lost her old ties entirely now.  Then she felt a warmth surround her, arms encircling her body. She looked up to find Harry, Hermione, and even Ron hugging her tightly, giving her something to hold onto. She clung to them and let the tears flow.

 

It had been Old Daphne who collapsed in that tiny alley.

 

When she rose again, it was Werewolf Daphne who said, “L-let’s get out of here.”  It was Werewolf Daphne who, from that moment on, was friends with Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley.

 

*****

 

The next few weeks passed in a blur for Harry and his friends. Part of it was the usual whirlwind of preparing for another school term, but there was more to it, too; the craziness of new and growing relationships, the slow integration of Daphne into their friend group, the ever-looming threat of Sirius Black hanging over it all.

Whatever the reason, though, it ended the same way: with all of them filing onto the Hogwarts Express, finding a compartment–including Daphne, who was terrified of being spotted the entire time–and taking their seats.

To their surprise, Lupin joined them, claiming that there was no room in the teacher’s compartment. Ron rather suspected that, in truth, he just wanted to keep an eye on Daphne, to make sure that she was okay.

Whatever the reason, his presence proved to be very welcome; he spent the trip regaling Harry with stories of his parents, which seemed to soak into Harry’s memory like a dry sponge absorbing every drop of water it could. It didn’t hurt that the stories were often so funny that they ended with all of them howling in laughter–including Daphne, who was still uneasy and awkward, even after everything.

Naturally, that was the exact moment that the Hogwarts Express came to a sudden, screeching halt.

Jarred by the sudden stop, all of them jolted in their seats, even Lupin. Where the students lurched, though, the grizzled werewolf turned towards the door with the wary ease of an old veteran, already reaching for his wand.

 

“What was that?” Harry asked from where Bella and Hermione had both snuggled up against him.

 

“I’m not sure,” Ron answered, craning his neck. Next to him, Ari bared her fangs for a moment before sitting up.

 

“I do not like this,” she declared, glancing at Bella. Bella nodded in uneasy agreement.

 

“I sense…something,” the basilisk murmured. Nobody got a chance to ask her what she meant before they felt it, too.  A chill crept into the cabin, and up the spines of everyone sitting in it. Warmth and light seemed to vanish from the air, dark murmurs filling the space as frost crept up the window of the compartment.

 

Lupin’s eyes narrowed. “Dementor,” he hissed. He reached into his bag for something, but before he could find it, Harry screamed.

 

He curled into a ball, shaking, as a figure appeared at the doorway. Bella and Hermione reached for him, but they could only hold him still as the door opened, and something out of a nightmare stepped through.

 

The dementor was terrifying. Nearly seven feet tall, clad in whipping, raggedy robes, with long sleeves covering whatever twisted limbs it had and a hood completely concealing its face, it floated into the compartment on a waft of icy wind, filling the heads of everyone who saw it with horror and fear. Bella and Hermione reeled back; Daphne cringed away, hearing her father’s shouts all over again. Even Ari was frozen into place, helpless as the Dementor advanced.

 

But not Ron. Fighting through his own nightmares, he rose to his feet, and extended an arm across the Dementor’s path, as if to block it. It turned to face him, and the bone-deep terror gripped his spine even harder.  He ignored it. Gritting his teeth, he summoned every drop of courage he asked, and—figuring it was probably best to be polite with the terrifying creature made of darkness and despair—asked, “Hey, uh, sorry to bother you, but our friend’s not handling your, uh, doom and gloom too well. Could you…maybe tone it down a little?”

 

For a moment, there was no response. And then, a slightly muffled but undeniably female voice replied, “Oh, yeah, sorry. Here, gimme a second.”  Ron’s eyes widened as the aura of terror and doom and misery faded away almost entirely. A pair of thin, pale hands emerged from the depths of that ragged cloak, and reached for the hood, slowly peeling it back to reveal…

 

For a moment, Ron struggled to comprehend what was beneath the Dementor’s hood. It wasn’t what he’d heard they concealed there, some unknowable monster, some doomed last glimpse of despair before your soul was ripped from your body.  No. It was a girl. 

 

A very pretty girl, in fact, with aristocratic, fine-boned features, high cheekbones, a pointed nose, and a chin so sharp it could have cut through flesh.  She shook her hair–long and brilliant, nearly iridescent white, wrapped into twin braids that ran along the crown of her head before merging back into a single weaving braid down her back that shimmered a dozen colors at its end–out of her hood, then looked at Ron with eyes that were a piercing, unearthly ice-blue, nearly white at their centers and bluer further out. She smiled, revealing an inhuman mouth and perfect red lips that opened outwards in a ring, source of the Dementor’s Kiss. A Dementor smiling was somehow scarier than one looming over you in all its terrible glory.

 

“Sorry about that,” the Dementor girl said in a voice that should have blown its vowels like the howling winter wind, should have crunched its consonants like dry dead bones beneath booted feet, but instead was bright and peppy and clearly belonged to someone just about Ron’s age. “I was just doin’ my rounds, y’know? Didn’t mean to scare anybody.”

 

Ron gaped for a moment, before managing to get ahold of himself again. “It’s, uh, it’s alright,” he said. “Just… thanks for turning it off, I guess?”

 

The girl nodded. “Is he doing better?” she asked, pointing to where Harry was lying on the bench. Lupin was next to him, breaking a square of… chocolate? “Oh, perfect, that’ll help. Chocolate always fixes it when people have bad reactions to me.”

 

Ron nodded absently. “Well, uh, thank you again for that…sorry, what’s your name?” he asked. “Calling you “The Dementor” in my head doesn’t seem very nice.”

 

The girl raised one sharp, nearly-invisible eyebrow. “You’re worried about being nice to the Dementor?” she asked evenly, gesturing at herself with one long, thin finger.

 

Ron shrugged. “I figure it can’t hurt,” he admitted.

 

The girl laughed, then, a high, clear sound so unlike the doom and gloom she’d brought with her. “Oh, I like you,” she declared, making Ron even more uneasy. “The name’s Diana. What’s your name?”

 

“Ron,” he replied. “Nice to meet you, Diana.”

 

Diana grinned, baring those monstrous, inhuman lips. “Funny, cute, and polite?” she asked, looking him up and down. “I’ll be remembering you, Ron.”

 

With that, she put her hood back up and floated back out of the compartment, leaving Ron to flop back down next to Ari, feeling relieved.  “So,” he said as Harry stirred, “Dementors can be cute girls? Did anyone know that?”

 

Hermione winced. “Ron,” she hissed, “You have a wife, you can’t just call another girl cute-”

 

Ari raised an eyebrow. “Why shouldn’t he?” she asked, wrapping her arm around her husband. “He’s right. That woman was… intriguing. I would like to see her again.”

 

Hermione froze, reflective cat eyes blinking in abrupt confusion. “Oh, uh,” she stammered.  “Okay then.”  Then, she proved that she really was the smartest person in Hogwarts by shutting up.

 

Lupin, meanwhile, rose to his feet. “I’ve had the displeasure of meeting Dementors before,” he said. “They…weren’t like that. Whatever Miss Diana is, she’s no ordinary Dementor. You would be wise to be careful around her, Ron.”

 

Ron nodded slowly. “I mean, I wasn’t exactly planning to not be careful,” he pointed out. “But, uh, point taken.”

 

Daphne, meanwhile, let out a long, pained sigh. “What is it with this school, anyway?” she asked. “Do they really think that girl will keep out Sirius Black?”

 

Bella shrugged. “Well, either she does that, or she spends all her time flirting with Ron,” she said. “Either way, I think the results will be enjoyable to watch.” Ron spluttered, Ari laughing right along with the rest of their friends, and the last of the chill finally vanished from the room.

 

It was good to be back at Hogwarts.

 

*****

 

Lupin had many thoughts going through his head as he watched the castle appear.  Many of them were happy memories of four friends… three of whom were dead, and one who had betrayed them all. So maybe not the happiest memories, come to think of it. 

 

But the rest of his mind was on exactly what had just shown up on the train. The Dementors concerned him; the one who’d spoken to Ron most of all. Whatever Ministry official had ordered them here clearly cared more about preventing any more Sirius Black headlines than the wellbeing of students. He’d spent the rest of the train ride moving up and down the halls, checking in on students in the wake of the Dementors. Dozens had been affected by the creatures’ aura; Harry was obviously affected the worst of them all, but he’d nearly run out of chocolate by the time he was done.  

 

Having those things around the school all year would be a problem.  He’d have to talk to Dumbledore about it.  In the meantime, however…

 

“Right then,” Lupin said.  “As the eldest-”

“Second eldest,” the Basilisk lamia pointed out.

 

“...Right… second eldest… I think that we should probably get off the train, and just make our way to the castle without much else to say, perhaps?”

 

*****

Severus Snape was fuming.  First Sirius bloody Black escaped Azkaban, and now he was being forced to teach besides the Last Marauder!  Not only that, he was supposed to brew Wolfsbane!  Granted, he wished it had been available when Lupin was younger–mostly because if it had, he wouldn’t have nearly died in that damn tunnel to the Shrieking Shack. 

 

As he stirred the potion, he growled, “If Lupin misses a class because of this, I’m subbing and teaching everyone how to kill him,” he snarled.

 

“And you know he’ll thank you for it,” Albus Dumbledore replied, entering the potions lab. Snape hadn’t even heard him come in. “Severus.  The train is almost here.  I think you should come up to the feast.”

 

“Every time I see his face I’m thrown backwards in time to the worst day of my life,” Snape growled.  “I’ve moved on from hating James.”

 

“But not yourself?”

 

“Yes.  And I don’t need a reminder of my many wrongdoings and failures.  Black prancing around in free air is enough torment!”

 

“...It will get worse,” Dumbledore sighed. “The Minister officially passed the ordinance.”

 

Snape blinked. Cornelius Fudge was a fool of the highest order, but surely even he saw how insane surrounding a school with Dementors was. “You can’t be serious.”

 

Dumbledore’s eyes were distant and deeply annoyed. “I am.  The Dementors of Azkaban have already begun to arrive outside the grounds.”

 

Snape went back to stirring. “Thank heavens that we have the barrier to keep them off the grounds proper,” he said.

 

Dumbledore was silent. 

 

Snape stopped stirring. “You did… manage to keep them away from the castle, right?”

 

Albus Dumbledore’s bushy white eyebrows were furrowed so deeply they seemed knit together. “It seems the Minister wished to make a statement,” he replied. “The Dementor force is led by a very… specific commander. The barrier was very little defense against one such as her.”

 

Snape’s eyes widened. In the cauldron in front of him, the potion bubbled dangerously, completely forgotten.

 

“Are you serious?” he hissed. “Her? What were they thinking?”

 

Dumbledore just shook his head. “It gets worse.”

 

“How can it get worse?!” Snape demanded.

 

“She was the one in charge of checking the train.”

 

Snape’s fists clenched at that. “Checking… the train?”

 

Dumbledore snorted. “Evidently the Minister had a fear that Black would smuggle himself in via the Hogwarts Express.” The look on his face made it clear exactly what he thought of that idea.

 

Snape considered himself an expert at being angry. This was an entirely new level of rage. “That idiot!” he snarled. “Does he have any idea how much damage he could have caused?  A regular Dementor was bad enough, but…” Snape trailed off.  “How bad was it?”

 

“...I don’t know.  Remus was on the train.  I’ll have to ask him.  Also… you’ll have to brew two portions of Wolfsbane each month.”

 

“...Two?” Snape whispered, eyes wide in horror.  One of the students had been bitten?

 

“Yes… one for Remus… and one for Daphne Greengrass.”

 

Snape blinked in shock.  “Greengrass?  As in-”

 

Dumbledore nodded. “The girl that the House of Greengrass disowned instead of purchasing Wolfsbane from a number of potion makers.  The girl who was thrown out of her house, with the parents only thinking of their status, not the life they were trying to snuff out.  The girl that Remus Lupin saved from the brink of death.  The girl I didn’t know was still alive until she walked in on me talking to Remus coming back from a shopping run for milk.”

 

Snape shook his head. Twenty-some years, and he still found new ways to be shocked by the cruelty of the pureblood families towards their own. “Now I have the mind to thank whoever did… that…to them,” he declared. He may play favorites, but he’d liked Greengrass, in his own way.

 

Albus Dumbledore smiled, then, and it was a terrifying thing to behold. “You’re welcome.”

 

Snape froze.  “Albus? Are you saying…?”

 

“That I assaulted the Greengrass Patriarch and Matriarch in a manner that would have gotten Grindelwald all hot and needy?” Dumbledore asked, eyes twinkling with mirth… and some malice.  “Why yes.  I do believe I was in top form that night.  Tell me, have their bones reverted to normal?”

 

Snape’s eyes felt as big as dinner plates. “St. Mungo’s will either want you dead or to make you the employee of the month,” he said. “They learned a great many things from… your apparent escapades.”

 

Dumbledore chuckled, “Well, Remus did request that I ‘fuck them up’ for what they did to their daughter.  I couldn’t exactly say no.”

 

“I know where you got the reference for what their bones would look like, Albus.”

 

“Muggle manga is truly a treasure trove, yes.”

 

Snape just shook his head. “I already have nightmares from what I saw.  Do not make me long for them.”

 

Dumbledore shrugged. “Only if they try to harm her or try to force her expulsion.  Do let them know that, please.”

 

That left Snape staring at him in mild terror yet again. “You didn’t even wipe their memory?” he asked.

 

“Of course not,” Dumbledore replied, eyes still twinkling as if he were merely a mild-mannered grandfather and not the most terrifying man currently alive in Wizarding Britain. “It’s not like they’re in any state to tell anyone what happened, after all.”

 

Seeing that he could safely leave the Wolfsbane to simmer, Snape decided to sink into his chair, not quite trusting his legs at the moment. “I’m… going to just… sit here for a while,” he declared.

 

“Feel free to.  But don’t forget about the feast!”  With that, Albus skipped–yes, skipped–out of the lab.

 

Snape did not get paid enough for this.

Chapter 20

Chapter by ColdLuigi

As they entered the Great Hall, Daphne separated from the group with extreme reluctance, heading for the Slytherin table; as much as she would have liked to stay, she was still technically a member of Slytherin House, for all that her former allies shot her uneasy, occasionally outright hostile looks and seemed unsure what to make of her mysterious reappearance and disfiguring scar. Lupin, meanwhile hurriedly made his way to Dumbledore, taking his seat at the teacher’s table.  Harry noticed Snape was looking at Lupin with disguised contempt—and the disguise was a genuine effort, from what Harry could tell.  As he sat down, he could see Malfoy and his goons sneering at him.

 

“So, Potter, is it true?  Did you faint?” Draco sneered at him, as one of them feigned swooning.

 

“I imagine you soiled yourself, Malfoy,” Ron shot back.

 

“Oh, did you faint too, Weasel?” Draco mocked.

 

“Actually, he pacified the Dementor,” Hermoine shot back.

 

“Wasn’t asking you, half-breed,” Draco spat, turning back to the goons.  Daphne had settled in at the table, but she looked really out of place, especially since she was keeping her head down.  Harry hoped she’d be alright.  Up at the staff table, Lupin was describing what had happened.  McGonnagal had a shocked expression.  She said something to Lupin, and he nodded.  He saw her place a hand to her head, like she was exasperated.  Huh.  He wondered what that was about.  Probably about the Dementor?  Were they supposed to do that—turn into cute girls?  Maybe he should ask. Care of Magical Creatures was a class he’d signed up for, after all.  Maybe they’d be covered?  Dumbledore then stood up, and the murmuring slowly halted.

 

“May I have your attention, please?” Dumbledore began.  “Before we dive into our wonderful feast and proceed to eat ourselves sick, I have a couple of announcements to make.  First of all, I would like to welcome Miss Bella Slytherin back to the castle.”  There was stunned silence, as Bella slithered up to the podium.  “Yes, I imagine many of you are confused.  But, after much discussion, a few millennia-old curses, and going over some papers that were thrown at me, I was able to determine that Miss Bella is, in fact, Slytherin’s adopted daughter.  Yes, she is the Basilisk.  Yes, she was controlled.  Yes, she is perfectly safe… how many of you have looked at her and survived?  Then again, you probably weren’t looking at her eyes.”  There were some awkward chuckles at that. Hermione and Harry shared a sheepish grin as Bella laughed too; her chest was indeed very distracting.  

 

Now, as you can see,” Dumbledore continued, “we have our newest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Please give a warm welcome to Professor Remus J Lupin!”  Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Daphne applauded- as did many of the students Lupin had helped on the train.  

 

“Additionally, tomorrow, there will be a re-sorting- the first re-sorting in one hundred and seven years.  This resorting is due to the fact that a student’s life is in danger if they remain in their house.  If this student would like to reveal who they are, they may do so.”  Daphne stood up, revealing her presence to those who hadn’t seen her come in.

 

“Holy shit, is that Greengrass?!”

 

“I thought she was dead?!”

 

“What happened to her face!?”

 

These mutterings rang through the hall.

 

“Greengrass, care to explain yourself?” Draco sneered.

 

“Would you like to explain, Miss Greengrass, or should I?” Dumbledore inquired.

 

“Can you do it, Professor?” Daphne requested.

 

“Very well.  Over the summer holidays, Miss Greengrass was bitten by a werewolf.”

 

There was a mass turning of heads towards Daphne, with many of the Slytherins looking at her in shock and disgust.

 

“I have, after consulting with experts at St. Mungo’s, decided that she will continue her schooling at Hogwarts. We will place additional safety measures, on top of those related to Sirius Black’s escape, to ensure the safety of other students should something go awry. However, thanks to the services of our esteemed Potions Master, Miss Greengrass will not be a threat to her fellow students, even during the full moon.”  Snape nodded, determination on his face.  “As far as I am aware, this incident likely has little or nothing to do with the tragic incident that befell her former parents.  I would request that you not spread disturbing rumors about that either.  They have gone through so much, and I hope you will join me in wishing them a speedy and full recovery.”  There were some murmurs.

 

“Pureblood girl getting bitten by a werewolf?” Dean muttered. “Can’t imagine her parents handled it well.”

 

Harry and Ron shared a somber glance at that.

  

“I am telling you all this because she will be re-sorted tomorrow, so that she may be in a House more… conducive to her education. As the wards cannot be re-keyed until tomorrow, she will spend tonight in her Slytherin dormitory. I eagerly await to see her perfectly healthy tomorrow morning.”  There was a layer of ice on those words that was thicker than Antarctica.

 

“What did he mean by that?” Neville whispered.

 

“He’s laying down the law,” Seamus explained.  “He’s telling the Snakes that if they fuck with her, he’s going to fuck with them.”

 

“...Oh.  But… he wouldn’t do anything… bad, right?”

 

“He’s Dumbledore,” one of the older Gryffindors replied.  “Yeah, he’s Light, but only because the Dark shits their pants when they think of him.”

 

“...Okay then,” Neville replied, a little shaken.

 

Harry was just watching the reactions to Daphne.  There was so much undisguised contempt and loathing being sent at her from her soon-to-be-former housemates. As he watched, a sixth year sitting near Daphne hissed something at her that made her flinch, even as she kept her head high.

 

“How can we be safe around that?” Pansy shrieked, pointing at Daphne.

 

“Severus?  Would you like to explain?” Albus asked, as Professor Snape rose to his feet.

 

“The Headmaster is referring to a potion known as Wolfsbane. When ingested, it weakens the transformation and allows the afflicted to remain in complete control of his or her mental facilities, thereby making them able to control themselves and prevent loss of life. Unfortunately, there has been a concerted effort to keep it under wraps for… political reasons,” Snape sneered at the last bit.  “ As a potioneer, I have brewed this potion many times. I am fully confident in my capability to ensure that Miss Greengrass will pose no harm to anyone.”

 

The reaction to that was mixed; many seemed mollified by Snape’s words, while a minority–mostly Slytherins–murmured in discontent, still shooting ugly looks at Daphne, who barely seemed to see them.

 

Noticing the dissenters, Snape arched one dark eyebrow. “For those who still express doubt in my capabilities,” he intoned, “I will have my first lessons of the year on the theory of Wolfsbane, why it was invented, and why it is important in modern wizarding society. If, at the end of that class, you do not believe what I am saying, then I invite you to submit to me an extra credit essay on why Wolfsbane is insufficient to guarantee student safety. If you can produce no less than four feet of parchment on the topic, I will reconsider my stance.”

 

Not a single student spoke after that. Satisfied, Snape sat back down.  Dumbledore started to applaud, and slowly and surely, more students began to as well.

 

“Okay, seriously, what the fuck happened to Snape?” Ron whispered. “That was almost… cool of him.”

 

Harry just shrugged. Beside him, Hermione just laughed.

 

“Papa would be so disappointed in all of you,” Bella growled at the Slytherins, before slithering away in a huff.  She plopped herself down by Harry, and coiled around him.  

 

Slowly, the applause faded away, and Dumbledore stood once more. “In other news, Professor Kettleburn has decided to retire to, in his words, ‘spend time with his remaining limbs’. Thankfully, I’ve found a man just as passionate, and far more durable, to replace him. Please welcome Professor Rubeus Hagrid!”

 

The cheers from Harry were meant to fill the hall. He wasn’t the only one either. Many students were cheering.  It seemed that the massive man must’ve moved many hearts.  Snape was applauding with relish. Hagrid was just in crying tears of joy.  

 

As the feast began, Bella helped herself to ungodly amounts of meat.  Harry noticed Daphne was doing the same.  So was Lupin.

 

*****

 

Snape was estatic as he skipped into the teacher’s lounge. “What’s gotten into you, Severus?” Professor Sprout asked. 

 

“Hagrid has complete access to the forests!  Do you know HOW MANY potion ingredients can be obtained?!  And that’s just the start!”  Snape was rubbing his hands together.  “Rubius, how might you convince an Acromantula to part with its venom?”

 

“I mean, I jus’ could ask…” Hagrid said slowly. “That isn’t the only reason yer’ happy, right?”

 

“I still remember the gamekeeper who would offer me snacks,” Snape added. “That, and the simple fact of the matter is that you’ll easily be able to protect the students… just remember that they’re much more fragile.”

 

“Oh yeah, sure, sure. Can you help me with lesson plannin’?”  Snape slid over and went over the list.

 

“I’m assuming you’re not leading the Seventh Years into the forest, right?”

 

Nah.  I asked Aragog if she’d be willin’ to walk to the edge… the problem is she ain’t certain on what form ta use.  That, an’ she’s gotta make some clothes, ya know?  Gifts to soothe the students’ fears.”

 

“The fact that you’re referring to Acromantula silk, spun BY an Acromantula Queen, as a ‘gift’ astounds me.”

 

“What?  Aragog puts her heart ‘n soul into ‘em!”

 

“I apologize:  Calling them a ‘gift’ is an understatement.  That’s the sort of present nobility gives.  What else were you planning?”

 

“Hippogriffs fer the third years.”

 

Snape nodded. “An excellent choice. Just be sure to give warnings.”

 

“I plan to,” Hagrid assured Snape.  Snape had also helped him with the textbook- apparently people didn’t know that you had to stroke the spine of the book!

 

“And if any dunderheads ignore the warnings, that’s on them,” Snape added, heading out of the staff room.

 

*****

 

Daphne lingered apart from the stream of green-clad students heading back towards their dorm for as long as she could, trying to ignore the hateful, deadly glares being shot at her by every one that passed by her, from the seventh years to the first.

 

She didn’t see Astoria. She wasn’t looking for Astoria, really, but she’d expected to notice that small, almost angelic face staring at her, lip curled in disgust just like all her friends, just like their parents. She didn’t see Tracey either.

 

Small blessings. 

 

She waited until every single Slytherin student had long since disappeared down the hall. And then she waited some more.  She saw Harry and the others start towards her, but she waved them off. They needed to get to their dorms; she wasn’t going to get them in trouble for her sake.

 

This was her fight. She’d face it.

 

At last, Professor Snape came to her, as the house-elves began to appear in the Great Hall, cleaning the tables of the remains of the feast.

 

“Miss Greengrass,” he said, stern and dark. “You should be getting to bed.”

 

Daphne nodded slowly. She didn’t bother trying to hide the apprehension on her face.

Something in Snape’s expression shifted; that had been happening more, lately, as his usual moods and dark attitude had lightened.

 

“Say the word,” he said, more softly this time, “and I will go in there myself.”

 

Daphne considered it. Considered whether it would truly stop what she knew was coming.  She realized that it wouldn’t. One way or another, Slytherin House would come for her. At least this way, she would be expecting it.

 

“There’s no need,” she said, standing straight. “I’m not afraid of them.”

 

And as Snape watched her walk through the door, she found that, somehow, it was true.

 

*****

 

Daphne stepped through the door to the Slytherin common room one last time, suppressing her fear behind a mask, just like she always used to. Her back ramrod-straight, she entered like a condemned prisoner facing execution.

 

Instantly, every head turned her way; every eye zeroed in on her face, as proud and defiant as ever. Daphne saw the raw hate, the dismissal, and the fear, and her scar burned. She knew everyone was going to be staring at it, at the unmistakable proof of what she was.

 

Everyone was looking at her, and Daphne knew what they saw: a werewolf. A slavering, mindless monster. A beast. To them, she was a threat, something less than human, who didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as them.

 

But it was nothing Daphne had not believed about herself before, and that made her shame into armor.

 

Tracey must have been somewhere in this room, watching her former friend with fear and anger and grief, but Daphne refused to look too closely at the sea of aristocratic, simpering features; she didn’t need to reopen old wounds today, any more than she already had.  Astoria would be here, too, maybe with her new allies, maybe still settling into Hogwarts. Daphne refused to look for her, either, to see if her sister’s eyes carried the same fear they had all those months ago, to see if her sister even recognized who she’d become.  Daphne took another step forwards into the common room she’d once felt comfortable in, and still, nobody made a move. There was silence, the hostile, muted kind of silence where nobody was quite sure what they wanted to do quite yet, other than stare at the werewolf who had once been someone they’d known.

 

Daphne could have used the pause, the miraculous, blessed reprieve, to escape, to turn tail and run into her dorm room where she’d be at least a little bit safer. But there were friends waiting for her behind the door she’d just come through, and they believed that she was strong, that she was more than a beast. She wasn’t going to disappoint them by hiding like a coward, not when the house she already knew she’d ask the Sorting Hat for valued bravery above all else.  More than that, Daphne was angry. Angry at what, she didn’t know; her family for throwing her out, Tracey for abandoning her, the whole damn world for marking her and making her into what she was now. But most of all, she hated the people in front of her in that moment. Daphne has been one of them, once, full of blind hate and unearned arrogance and the belief that her blood was better than anyone else.

 

She wasn’t that person anymore, and seeing where her old self had stewed in racism and toxic hate and meaningless plots for imaginary power only stoked her fury hotter.  Daphne was spoiling for a fight, and if these cowards were going to give her the opportunity, who was she to refuse?  Daphne took another step forwards, until she could face all of Slytherin House at once, her back no longer against the wall.  Still, nobody moved, and nobody made a sound.

 

Daphne felt her eyes blaze with anger. She could see the pity in their eyes, under the hate and the fear and the mirth at watching another person fall to pieces. The pity more than anything was what got to her; Daphne had rebuilt herself into someone who was better than she’d ever been, and she wanted no pity, especially not from these arrogant assholes.

 

So Daphne opened her mouth and demanded, “Well? Are all of you going to sit around hating me blindly, or does one of you have the balls to say what’s on all your minds?”

 

Still, nobody responded. Getting more heated, Daphne snapped, “I know exactly what you must be thinking. Come on, say it! Call me what you want to! I don’t give a shit, I know what I fucking am!”  Daphne could feel the pain rising to the surface, all the loathing and anger and pity she’d directed towards herself over those long months, every time she’d ever wished that she’d never been bitten boiling over at once.  When she was done, Daphne stood rigid as always in front of her former house, panting with exertion as the words left her lips. And at last, someone responded.

 

“So, the wolf bitch can speak,” came the mocking voice of Draco Malfoy, a smug smile across his features as he stood.

 

“Oh, I can speak alright,” Daphne retorted.

 

Malfoy rose to his feet, and Daphne wanted to punch his stupid grin off his face. He mocked, “Are you sure about that? It sounded a lot like barking to me. Tell me, how the hell did Dumbledore let you back into this school?”

 

“Because,” Daphne snapped, “I deserve to be here, just like you.”

 

“No, you don’t,” Malfoy told her, “you’re a werewolf now, Greengrass. Don’t you know what that means? You’re a threat, a danger to everyone else around you. You can’t be around proper wizards.”

 

“Why not?” Daphne asked in that same mocking tone, canines flashing. “Afraid that I might bite?”

 

Trying to hide how obviously unnerved he was by Daphne’s steady approach closer to him, her teeth bared in a snarl, Malfoy snorted, “Oh, please, you wouldn’t dare. Besides, if you hurt anyone, you won’t just get expelled, you’ll probably get put down like a rabid dog. You might as well do us all a favor and just get out of here now, Greengrass, before we have to get rid of you for our own safety.”

 

Daphne ignored the simpering threats and replied humorlessly, “Oh? Who would “get rid of me?” You? Please, I could take you with a hand tied behind my back. But guess what, Malfoy, you’re going to get your wish; I’ll be gone by tomorrow. Slytherin isn’t my home any longer. Honestly, it never was. I won’t be missing you, you bunch of bigoted, arrogant beasts!”

 

Malfoy blinked in surprise, and murmurs spread through the common room. They’d come here expecting what Slytherins always did–feasting on weakness, ripping apart one of their own who had failed to conform. They hadn’t expected Daphne to attack.

 

Daphne felt something in her chest break apart, and she laughed hysterically, a sound like shattering glass. When she smiled again, it was a wolf’s grin, a threat and a warning, all bared canines and curled lips.

Low and intense, her voice rang through the space as she said, “If you want to hate me for being a werewolf, fine. I know what I am, and I know what you are. I’m not ashamed of who I’ve become; the only thing I feel shame for is who I was before I was bitten. I’d rather be a werewolf than one of you, and I’m never going to hide in the shadows and let you believe that your world is perfect and right. Go to hell, all of you.”  

 

As quickly as it had flared, the rage in Daphne’s heart cooled, magma becoming jagged stone in her chest. Daphne let out a long breath, and turned to march towards her dorms, leaving a stunned Malfoy behind.

 

She didn’t look back at a stunned common room, or at the torn looks on more than a few students’ faces.  Then, someone (Daphne would never be sure who; definitely not Malfoy, who seemed as shocked as everyone else) stood and yelled a curse, wand in hand.

 

Daphne felt her instincts flare, and she started to turn, but it was far too late. A sickly yellow beam of light soared through the air, aimed right at her chest. Daphne could only close her eyes and brace, hoping that whatever Dark spell had been used wouldn’t kill her on impact.

That impact never came, as an all-too-familiar voice yelled, “Protego!”  When Daphne opened her eyes again, Tracey Davis was standing in front of her, between Daphne and the small group of upperclassmen who had leapt to their feet, wands drawn.

 

Tracey yelled, “You idiots! Using Dark curses in the common room will bring the damn Headmaster down on us! She’s here for one night, and then she’ll be out of our hair forever!”  Daphne’s eyes went wide as Tracey spoke, and as the upperclassmen actually listened, putting away wands and slowly dispersing.

 

As the crowd of gawking students gradually began to break up, Daphne whispered, “Tracey… thank you.”

 

Tracey didn’t turn to face her, didn’t even acknowledge Daphne’s words for a long moment. When she finally did, they didn’t sustain the hope soaring in Daphne’s heart.  “I didn’t do it for you,” Tracey said flatly, crushing Daphne’s fragile hope and making her feel like she was losing her friend all over again.

 

“Then why?” Daphne demanded.

 

Tracey responded, “I was repaying a debt. That’s all. We’re even now.”  Then, she left, too, walking away without another word, or even a glance over her shoulder.  Daphne was alone again, and she had little choice of what to do.  Daphne fairly sprinted down the long hallway to where the Slytherin third-year girls were, and slipped into her bed. Drawing the muffling curtains tight, she finally let the sobs loose.  The last ties were cut; there was no going back now.

 

*****

 

The class schedules were handed out the next day. “Divination at nine today, oh, and Care of Magical Creatures this afternoon,” Ron muttered. Hermione was just looking a bit red in the face. “Is everything all right?”

 

“Fine, just…Crookshanks was a bit embarrassing.”  Hermione had gotten a cat during their shopping- a big orange one. Crookshanks had it out for Scabbers for some reason. It was also here that they learned Hermione and him could talk to one another.

 

“Embarrassing how?” Harry asked.

 

“He wanted to be godfather.”

 

Harry paused. “Oh.”

 

“Do you think Daphne is all right?” Hermione whispered.

 

“I heard she was taken to the Headmaster’s office,” Ron whispered back.

 

“That’s where the sorting hat is,” Harry explained.  “So do we have Hagrid’s first Care of Magical Creatures class?”

 

“Nah. That’s the 7th years.  Wonder what Hagrid will do?”

 

As Ron finished that statement, Bella slithered up. “Sorry I’m a bit late,” she apologized, coiling herself into a noodle pile, “Hagrid wanted to talk to me.”

 

“Holy shit, is he starting with you?!” Ron whispered. 

 

“No, I’m next week. He’s starting with his…daughter? I didn’t know he had a family.”

 

Harry and Ron looked at each other with wide eyes. “Bella, he’s talking about Aragog- an Acromantula.”

 

“Oh. Isn’t that Ariana’s mother?”

 

“Yes,” Ron replied.  “Should we warn them?”

 

“...No.  We handled an Acromantula colony.  They can handle one Acromantula,” Harry assured Ron.

 

“If any of them come back as my in-laws, Harry, I’m blaming you,” Ron stated, as they finished their food.  Hermione waved them a goodbye as they separated, with Harry and Ron eaded for the Divination tower.

 

*****

 

“This looks like a New-Age shop,” Harry said aloud, as they entered.  While that weird knight had been helpful, they still only barely arrived on time, and were absolutely exhausted.  

 

“A what?!” Ron whispered to him.

 

“A…never mind, it’s a Muggle thing,” Harry replied.

 

“If I tell Dad that he’ll never let you hear the end of it,” Ron pointed out.  “What is it?”

 

“They look like the Divination room.  Tell him that.”

 

“Right, that’ll work.” Harry and Ron looked around for a good place to sit.  At least the poufs were comfy.

 

“Welcome, all of you, to the ancient and noble art of Divination!  This is not a gift that can be taught to all. Merely reading from a book cannot teach you everything,” Professor Trelawney began.

 

“Remind me to tell Fred and Geroge thanks for telling Hermione to drop,” Ron whispered to Harry, who nodded.

 

“This is one of the most challenging arts that can be shown!  Many a witch or wizard can cast a flash of light that explodes, or turn a needle into a toothpick, but!” she waved her arms around.  Harry thought she looked like a woman on too much caffeine.  “Very few can practice this ancient art!  I apologize for not meeting you in person before, but too many fates intertwined tires my inner eye." With that, she began going to some of the students.  She started at Neville.  “Is your grandmother well?”

 

“Well…I…yes?”

 

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure. Her fate has crossed a precipice!  She will do something that no one can return from!”

 

“She’s going to Great Uncle’s house…”

 

“And you must let go of your Father’s last gift!  It is holding you back- it does not fit you!” the Professor exclaimed, moving onwards.  “And you!” she said, pointing to Ron.  “Oh…oh my…” she got red in the face, and moved on.

 

“What the bloody hell was that about?” Ron asked aloud.

 

“Ari?” Harry replied, shrugging. 

 

“You know what?  That’s fair.”

 

“Oh, and Longbottom?  After you break your first cup, please move onto the blue ones.  I like the pink ones,” the professor called.

 

“Cups?” Harry and Ron asked one another.

 

“This term, we shall be focusing on the art of reading tea leaves!  After that, palmistry!  Assuming we have mastered fire omens, we shall move onto crystal balls!  That will be our year.  February will be a rough month due to a flu outbreak, but I have warned Madam Pomfrey, so we should be well prepared.”  Everyone was now getting up to take a cup and fill it with tea.  “In America, they use coffee beans,” the professor explained.  “Rubbish.”

 

“Kind of hard to use tea when they used it all to turn one of their harbors into the world’s biggest teacup,” Ron snorted.

 

Harry had the distinct impression that Muggle world history was lacking in the Wizarding world.

 

The teens took their cups, and drank.  Huh, it was actually good tea.

 

“Once you are finished, take note of the shapes that appear on the bottom of the cup, with references on pages five and six on Unfogging the Future,” Trelawney instructed.  “Now swap cups, and tell me what you find.”

 

Harry turned to look at Ron’s cup, as the sound of broken china filled the room.  He looked up briefly to see Neville heading towards the cabinet with the blue teacups, before going back to the cup.  “Well, I see a lot of brown, soggy stuff,” he snarked.

 

“What a coincidence!  So do I!” Ron exclaimed back in faux surprise.  “What shapes do you see?”

 

“Well…there’s a cross, so that’s great trials or suffering, usually involving pain… but also a sun… and that’s joy or happiness…”

 

“So I’m going to suffer… but be happy about it?” Ron asked, confused.

 

“Yeah, that’s what it looks like, at least…”

 

“I think I understand…” Ron mumbled.

 

“You do?”

 

“I mean, suffering led to something pretty happy for me before, innit? Ariana?”

 

“Right- Arachnophobia led to your marriage,” Harry said, chuckling.  “But that was mental suffering, not physical. What’s my cup say?”

 

“I…I don’t know,” Ron mused.  “I think I see an acorn- that means unfound treasure…”

 

“If I find a buried chest of gold, I’ll split it 50/50 with you,” Harry promised Ron.

 

“Just make sure it’s laundered as a Christmas gift.  Even considering taking your money from you makes Mum want to vomit,” Ron told Harry.

 

“Okay. Anything else?”

 

“Some kind of animal?  A hippo… no, it looks more like a sheep…”  Harry let out a snort as Ron spoke aloud.

 

“May I see, my dear?” Trelawney inquired.  Ron shrugged, and handed her the cup.

 

“The falcon.  You have a great enemy…no surprises there,” she mused.  “A club… an attack…though dare I say that’s also par for the course for you…a skull.  Grave danger lies ahead.”

 

“Again, par for the course,” Harry deadpanned.

 

“...”

 

“Professor?”

 

“I…I honestly don’t know whether to laugh, or scream,” Trelawney admitted.  “Were you anyone else I would be wailing at your misfortune but, well, you have survived the unsurvivable.”

 

“What is it?” Lavender asked, peering over.

 

“The Grim.”

 

There were gasps from the classroom.

 

“The what?” Harry asked.

 

“An omen that takes the shape of a large, black dog that haunts churchyards. It’s the omen of death,” Trelawney whispered.

 

“Oh.  That’s bad, right?”

 

“Indeed, my boy.  I shall alert the Headmaster.  If this omen comes for you…it is possible that the monster you vanquished thrice now may try something this year once more.”  The Professor looked up.  “Class dismissed!  Oh, and Longbottom, try to catch up tomorrow-also, don’t leave your shoes untied- I don’t want you to be late.”

Chapter 21

Daphne sat alone in Dumbledore’s office, huddled in her chair as she stared at the Sorting Hat.  There would be no going back from this. Really, there hadn’t been any going back for a long time now–not since that werewolf’s jaws closed on her in Knockturn Alley.  But still, she sat there, unmoving, unable to work up the courage to reach out and put the hat on her head–to finally make that last break.

 

It had seemed so much easier, back in that common room, facing down her old House, full of rage; it had even seemed easy as she slept fitfully in that bed beneath the lake one last time, not daring to rest too deeply lest her former housemates come for her again, where fear had made her desperate to find safety. But now, alone in this room, Dumbledore having left to give her privacy with her thoughts, she lingered, hesitating.

 

Being a coward, more like. How very un-Gryffindor of her.

 

Why was she even bothering with this? She was a werewolf! She was infected, contagious, dangerous. Wolfsbane or no, how could the Patils or Lavender Brown or Hermione possibly sleep in the same room as her?  All it would take was one slip-up, one mistake, one forgetful moment. One night, and Daphne would turn again. Only this time, there would be dozens of her schoolmates, students unable to defend themselves, in her path.

 

Daphne shivered–but before she could sink deeper into her thoughts, there was a knock at the door.  She whirled, expecting Dumbledore’s patience to have run out, and she scrambled for an excuse.

 

But instead of the Headmaster’s wizened features, Bella’s pretty, not-quite-human face stared back at her as she slithered through the door.  “Am I interrupting?” she asked softly, the muscular coils of her tail shutting the door behind her.

 

Daphne blinked in surprise. She hadn’t realized that Bella even had access to Dumbledore’s office. The lamia still existed in an odd sort of between–place in Hogwarts; she wasn’t a student, as she was not a witch and couldn’t use magic, but neither was she a visitor, as she had lived in the castle for well over a thousand years, and nobody particularly wanted to try and evict Salazar Slytherin’s own adopted daughter from the school he had helped to found. So, while Harry and the others went off to class, Bella was more or less left to her own devices, free to roam the halls, befriend students, and, it seemed, break into the Headmaster’s office whenever she felt like it.

 

Even beyond that, though, Daphne couldn’t help but feel unease as Bella slithered into the room. She’d met the lamia before, if only briefly–mostly on the platform for the Hogwarts Express, actually–and their interactions had been…not the friendliest. Bella hadn’t said much at that time, but her reptilian eyes had been cold–and Daphne had been able to feel the distrust roiling the air around her.

 

Daphne shook her head slowly. “No,” she croaked softly. “I’m just…”

 

“Staring at my father’s old hat, after coming to be re-sorted nearly an hour ago?” Bella asked dryly, forked tongue flicking between her teeth in a manner that Daphne intuitively recognized as sarcasm. “You are stalling, wolf-girl.”

 

Daphne winced. Somehow, hearing it in Bella’s voice, stilted and dated and dry like a thousand years lost to time, only reinforced what she was: a beast. A monster. Something that had no right to be here.  “No,” she protested weakly. “I’m just…”

 

Bella raised one eyebrow, the dark red of her hair glimmering against green scales, and Daphne fell silent again.  Bella allowed that silence to stretch on painfully long, until Daphne could barely stand it anymore. Then, she said, “In my day, you would never have been allowed in this castle.”

 

Daphne flinched at that. Scrambling for the defiance she’d shown in the Slytherin common room, she snarled, “Yeah, well, I’m here now. Deal with it.”

 

Bella met her gaze evenly. “You mistake me, wolf-girl,” she said, and while her voice was not kind, neither was it un kind. “My parents would have not been opposed to welcoming those of your kind who wished to come. But they could not allow it, because you were always a danger to those around you. They had to protect students from rampaging werewolves.”

 

Daphne hung her head, drawing in her limbs, preparing for another blow. Instead, she got Bella’s hand on her shoulder, gentle and supporting.  “That is not the case anymore, or so I am told,” she said softly. “I know nothing of this Wolfsbane potion; it is far too new for my memory. But if it really is what Severus Snape says it is–”

 

“It is,” Daphne interrupted, quiet but strong. “I’ve…I’ve used it before.”

 

She didn’t elaborate, but Bella nodded anyway. “Then you have been given a great gift, wolf-girl,” she said. “Do you know how many generations of people with your affliction have lived and suffered and died without it? What they would have done for the ability to control and prevent the transformation that rendered them unsafe to live amongst others?”

 

Daphne flinched again. She… hadn’t considered that. “I…” she began, only to fall silent.

 

Bella sank down, into something approximating a kneeling position. “Use that gift, wolf-girl,” she urged softly. “Show that strength Harry sees in you. Show the strength that made you stand before the darkness and send it scurrying in fear. My fathers would both agree–what you did last night is a feat worthy of Godric Gryffindor himself. You have nothing to be afraid of from what that Hat has to say to you.”

 

Daphne’s eyes widened a fraction. “Hang on, how do you… how do you know about that?” she whispered, cringing away from Bella, just a little.

 

Bella smiled, and it was utterly inhuman, wide-eyed and humorless and ringing with the sort of light that reminded Daphne that behind the beautiful young woman with a snake’s tail was perhaps the single most feared magical beast to ever exist, a thousand-year-old basilisk which called the greatest magical structure on the planet its home.

 

“I am as old as this castle, girl,” she said by way of explanation. “It is like a sister to me. We were born at the same time, and we speak a language only we can speak. She has no secrets from me, and I have none from her. She tells me everything that happens within her walls.”  For just a second, Daphne shivered. Then her own doubts caught back up with her, drowning out the fear with something worse.

 

“And if I screw up again?” she whispered. “If the Wolfsbane fails?”

 

Bella nodded in acknowledgement, and her smile was gone as she met Daphne’s eyes

“It is a flawed gift, to be sure,” she agreed, “and I wish to be honest: you remain a danger to the students I was charged to protect. You remain a danger to the man I love, and to the woman he loves. All that stands between your friends and death at your hands is a potion that I do not understand, and your own memory, responsibility and judgment. And given that you managed to get yourself bitten in the first place, these things are… well, suspect.”

 

Daphne suddenly became very, very aware of the fact that basilisks could kill with their eyes. Bella’s gaze wasn’t lethal, yet, but the way her irises glowed made it clear that that could change at any second.

 

“But I will give you a chance, wolf-girl,” she said, still stern, and still gentle all the same. “Harry trusts you, and he saved me from that memory of an evil man. Ron trusts you too, and he is wiser than he realizes. They are good judges of character–better than me, perhaps. So, I will allow you to try and prove my parents wrong once again.”

 

Daphne forced herself to hold Bella’s gaze. “And if I fail?” she asked, voice not quavering, if only barely. “If… if I turn?”

 

Bella’s smile was sad, now. She laid a hand on Daphne’s knee.

 

“Then I will kill you myself,” she promised. “You have my word that it will be quick and painless. I can do that much for you, at least. You have had enough pain for a lifetime, wolf-girl.”

 

Daphne…shouldn’t have found that so reassuring, honestly. And yet, somehow, she did.

She rose to her feet, taking the Sorting Hat in her hands. As she raised it over her head, she looked back at Bella.  Softly, she whispered, “Thank you.”

 

And then she lowered the hat into place, closed her eyes, and made her request.

 

*****

 

Most of the class was looking at Harry like he’d keel over at any moment.  Hermione caught up with them.  “What’s gotten into them?” she whispered.

 

“Harry got the Grim in his tea leaves,” Ron explained.

 

“The what?”

 

“Have you seen a great black dog anywhere?” Ron asked Harry.

 

Harry wracked his brains.  “No.”

 

“Good.  If you had, you’d be on borrowed time.”

 

“What’s the Grim?”

 

“The omen of death,” Ron said, opening the door to the transfiguration class.

 

“So, Potter was the one she predicted the death of this year?” McGonagall asked.

 

“Professor?”

 

“Every year, Trelawney picks a student and goes on about how they’re fated to meet a tragic end.  It doesn’t happen- though she usually interprets it as her warnings working.  True Seers are very rare, and tend to keep to themselves. Do not fret, Mr. Potter.  You seem perfectly healthy to me.  And if you do happen to meet your demise, I’ll take that as an excuse for you not to turn your homework in.  I imagine her hysteria disturbed you.”

 

“Actually, Professor,” Ron said, as they sat down, “She was calm about it, and said that Harry had ‘survived the unsurvivable’ before…”

 

“Well then, I’ll have to ask Professor Dumbledore if she’s under the weather today,” the head of Gryffindor House mused.  “In the meantime, we will be talking about Animagi today.”  To show off, she turned into a tabby cat, let out a few meows, and walked up and down the desk.  Hermione poorly stifled a giggle, as the class applauded from their seats.  Minerva turned back into a person.

 

“What was the laughter for, Miss Granger?”

 

“I’m a pretty kitty, watch me strut, strut, strut,” Hermione got out, snorting.  Harry and Ron looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

 

“I don’t see what this is all for,” the professor stated, though Harry could see the comprehension in her eyes.

 

“Hermione can understand cats, Professor,” Harry wheezed out.  It took the class two seconds to put the pieces together, and they started to laugh as well.  McGonagall's cheeks were red.

 

“Bollocks,” she cursed, which caused the class laughter to increase in intensity.

 

*****

 

Hermione’s tail was still twitching in amusement as they headed to lunch.  “Well, that was an interesting class!”

 

“The look on her face was priceless,” Ron agreed.  “Was the parchment on the practical uses of such an ability and homework to test it out a punishment or curiosity?”

 

“I think it was curiosity,” Hermione said, shrugging.  “I mean, I do wonder what Mrs. Norris has to say…”

 

“Probably some stuff about how nasty we all are or something,” Ron grumbled, as they entered the Great Hall.  As they did, they saw a couple of Seventh Years, with Percy in the lead, sitting down around them.  “Did I become anyone’s in-law over the course of the morning?” Ron asked, concerned.

 

“No, it’s just… Why didn’t you warn us?”

 

“About?”

 

“Aragog’s form!”

 

“Oh, you mean the grown-up, aristocratic looks?  It never crossed my mind.  You’ve been seeing Ari all summer.”

 

“She’s almost entirely in a mostly human form, not in a full spider form, nor that spider from the waist down form Aragog was in the entire time!” Percy pointed out.  “And the rest of the year won’t stop hounding me with questions!  And then there’s this!”  He held out a parcel.  “Royal Acromantula silk clothing!”

 

Ron whistled.  “What’d you do to get that!?”

 

“We all got it as a ‘gift to calm our nerves’!” Percy exclaimed.  “I… I feel like I should sell mine, but that would be selling a gift… and she called me ‘Fire-hair’ as well!”

 

“Ah.  Yeah, she decided that was a good name to call me when we met her,” Ron replied, shrugging.  “So what’d the lesson cover?”

 

“Mostly biology and capabilities,” Percy said. “She was either reading something or answering questions.”

 

“Huh.  Hagrid taught her to read,” Harry said. “Any idea what he’s got in store for us?”

 

“You’re not telling us anything else?”

 

“Eh, I’m sure it’ll come up if there are repeat lessons.  I was more worried that I’d get a lot of in-laws.”

 

“She tried to set me up with her one hundred and fifteenth daughter. I had to inform her I was spoken for,” Percy admitted, which caused Harry and Hermione to snort.

 

*****

 

Harry was admittedly excited about what would come during the class.  He knew Hagrid was… quite fond of dangerous beasts, but he was sure that the man wouldn’t go in over his head.  Sure, he had shown Aragog, but he could trust her to not eat anyone.  

 

“What do you suppose Hagrid has in store for us?  Dragons?” Ron asked.

 

“That’s for first years,” Hermione replied back.  “Obviously, he’ll go for something more sensible, like a basilisk.”

 

“Second year,” Harry pointed out.

 

“Fair, fair. Vampires?” Ron inquired.

 

“Those are Beings, not Beasts.”

 

“Lethifolds?” Ron suggested, having pulled out Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and looked through the XXXXXs.

 

“I honestly don’t think I’d be surprised,” Harry deadpanned, as they walked their way down.  As they did, they noticed they weren’t the only group of three.

 

“Great.  Double Classes with the Slytherins,” Ron groaned.

 

Hermione’s tail flicked in agitation.  “I guarantee that they’ll try something,” she growled.  The two boys in the group nodded, and they finished the walk down to Hagrid’s hut.  He was waiting for them nearby, wearing a beaming smile.

 

“Welcome, welcome!” Hagrid said, wearing a beaming smile.  “I got a great lesson fer yeh!”  He promised, rubbing his hands together with glee.  “Follow me!”  Hagrid began strolling along the edge of the forest.

 

“We’re not going in there, right?” Draco asked.

 

“‘Course not,” Hagrid promised.  “‘Sides, with me, there wouldn’t be anything ta’ fear.”

 

“Suuure…” Malfoy replied, sarcastically.  Hagrid ignored him, which seemed to make Draco annoyed.  He led them to a paddock, where a bizarre but oddly majestic creature was pacing.

 

“Ain’t she pretty?” Hagrid beamed, standing next to a creature that Harry had never seen before.  They looked like a horse, but the entire front half had been replaced with an eagle, up to and including wings, beaks, and killer talons.  “This here is Buckbeak.  She’s a hippogriff!” Hagrid declared, picking up a rodent corpse.  “An’ fer waitin’ so patiently, have a nice dead ferret!”  He tossed it into the air, and Buckbeak caught it in her mouth.  “Would anyone like to get closer?” he asked, looking around.  Most of the class backed off as Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped forwards.  “Wonderful!  Now, the firs’ thing ta know- pay attention everyone!” Hagrid shouted, causing everyone to turn to him… except Malfoy, who was talking to his thugs.  “Again, ta first thing ta know is that hippogriffs are proud creatures, yeh hear me?  Do not insult one. If you do, she’s liable to gut yeh from end to end. I repeat, Do.  Not.  Insult.  One.”  Harry heard Draco’s mutterings pick up a little at Hagrid’s warning.  What was he up to? 

 

A hand rose in the air, and Hagrid nodded at the girl who’d raised it. “If they’re so dangerous, why do you want us to meet one?” she asked plaintively.

 

Hagrid smiled. “Aye, they can be dangerous if yeh anger ‘em,” he acknowledged. “But most things can be. And hippogriffs aren’t big fans of strangers; they don’t trust easy. Terribly fickle beasts, hippogriffs. But if ye can earn their trust, yeh won’t find nobody more loyal.”

 

“Now, ter approach a hippogriff, what ye do is bow while maintaining eye contact- bow as low as yeh can, nice and slow.  Don’t blink too much either.  ‘Arry, you first,” Hagrid instructed.  Harry stepped forwards some more, and made eye contact with the creature.  He had to admit she was quite majestic.  He bowed low- so low he was afraid he’d stumble forwards and fall flat on his face- would that be an insult?

 

He watched as the Hippogriff seemed to stare at him imperiously, considering.  Hagrid’s smile began to falter.  That wasn’t a good sign.  “Alright. Back away slowly, ‘Arry…” he began, before the front legs of the Hippogriff bent, and the low bow was returned.  “Well I’ll be darned!  Usually hippogriffs give a short bow!  She must’a really liked yours!  Go on up and pet ‘er!”  Harry was nervous, but stood up, and slowly walked to her, hands in plain sight.

 

Was that mirth in the beast’s eyes?

 

Gently, as if approaching a stray animal, Harry put his hands on her feathers.  Wow, they were soft.  The hippogriff let out a low sound- kind of like a coo.  Hopefully that meant she was enjoying the pets.

 

“Wow!  I think she’ll even letcha ride ‘er!” Hagrid declared.   For the briefest of moments, the eyes seemed to show a glint of amusement, before that vanished.  What was that?  “Now, climb up through the wing joint, but be careful with the feathers- she won’t like you pullen’ them out!” Hagrid chuckled.  Harry had just sat on the creature when her wings suddenly snapped open, and she galloped off.  Harry had to clutch her around her neck as she took to the air, flying above the trees.  She flew around the clearing, then headed towards the castle.  She flew over the towers and around the classrooms- Harry was pretty sure he saw Professor Flitwick make eye contact with him- and then flew over the lake.  As she did, she lowered herself to near the water level, grazing the water with her talons… and then did a barrel roll.

 

Harry almost fell off- key word being almost.  Buckbeak gave a squawk of some kind, which sounded… amused?  He hoped it was amused.  She then took to the skies once more, and flew back into the clearing.

 

“Well done Harry!  And well done, Buckbeak!” Hagrid cheered, as Harry slid off of Buckbeak, who turned her head and nudged him a little.  Hagrid tossed her another ferret, and she chomped it down happily.  “She must’ve really liked ‘yer respect!  Remember people, be respectful!” Hagrid reiterated.  Harry slightly wobbled back to the class.

 

“You all right?” Ron asked his friend.

 

“I was until the barrel roll over the lake,” Harry replied, which caused Hermione to shiver, her tail poofing up.

 

“Right then, who’s next?” Hagrid called.  Draco stormed over, eyes hard.  “Malfoy, remember ‘ta bow-”

 

“I’m not bowing to some fat bird mare that allowed Potter near it!” Malfoy snarled, as Buckbeak backed up, until she hit a tree.  She gave a warning squawk.  “Yeah, know your betters, brute!” Draco spat.

 

The talons came up, and Malfoy wasn’t laughing now.  Instead, he was on the ground, clutching his arm and wailing.  Hagrid immediately went in front of Buckbeak, trying to calm her.  “Woah!  Woah!” he told her, holding his arms up.

 

“It’s killed me!  It’s killed me!  I’m dying!  Dying!” Draco wailed.  Harry caught his eye, and saw a look of malicious glee.

 

That bastard had done that on purpose!

 

“Class dismissed!” Hagrid called, looking nervous, as he picked up Draco.

 

“M-my father will h-hear about this!” he wailed, as many of the Slytherins followed Hagrid.  Most of the Griffindors were muttering to themselves.  Buckbeak proceeded to walk over to Harry and bump him a little, causing him to start, but scratch her some more.  More cooing came out.

 

“Did he not listen?!” Hermione exclaimed in shock.

 

“No, he listened all right,” Seamus replied.  “Me mum knows a bit about that sort of thing- that was Hippogriff baiting, that was.”

 

“Hippogriff baiting?” Harry asked, continuing to give scratches.

 

“Intentionally provoking a Hippogriff,” Seamus explained, arms crossed.  “Hagrid did nothing wrong- he did everything right.  And even the hippogriff tried to wave him off- you all saw that, right?”  There were nods.

 

“Then why did he do that?” Neville whispered.

 

“Probably to get Hagrid in trouble,” Ron hypothesized.

 

“Well, then we need to make sure Hagrid knows he did nothing wrong!” Harry declared, removing his hand from Buckbeak.  Buckbeak gave what could only be described as a pleading croon, and Harry began petting her again.  He looked desperately around at his friends, none of whom seemed willing to try and free him from the attentions of the thousand-pound buzzsaw with wings. “Uh…help?”

 

*****

 

Eventually, Buckbeak let Harry go, and they marched up the steps to the castle.  As they began sitting down to eat, they saw Daphne sitting… at the Griffyndor table.  She turned to look at them, and smiled.  “Hi, guys,” she said.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione raced up around her.  “I guess I’m a Lion now.”

“How’re you feeling?” Hermione asked her, concerned.

 

“About as well as I could be,” she admitted.  “Snape assured me that he’ll keep me supplied, and the sorting was only a little bit of time- the Hat said that I’d be safest here, and among friends.  He also said that it was very brave of me to face the Snakes in the Snake Pit, and before that, to throw away the lies I’ve been told.”

 

“But you were up there the entire day!” Ron whispered.

 

“I had a… talk with Bella.  She helped me get over things as well.”

 

“I see.  Was there anything else?”

 

“Dumbledore helped as well. He said that he was very willing to listen to my worries. I kind of just told him how I was doing…and then he set up a ten-pin bowling game.  He had to explain to me what that was.”

 

“What’s ten-pin bowling?” Ron asked.

 

*****

 

Hermione explained one of Dumbledore’s hobbies to Ron as Daphne got her stuff ready.  As it turned out, she'd be sharing a dorm with Hermione as she had guessed-!there was a joke about cats and dogs living together that came to Harry’s mind, but it wasn’t very tasteful, so he didn’t say it aloud.  After she got settled in, she came down to the common room- marveling at how… welcoming the place was. Sure, she got plenty of uneasy, and even hostile, looks from the other Gryffindors, but she was used to those, and it seemed like quite a few of them were willing to accept her just to stick it to the Slytherins. It really felt like she could just… let her guard down, bundle herself up in front of the fireplace, and just fall asleep there, never worrying about a curse in the back.  She shook the thought from her head as she went over to the table where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were going over their respective homework.

 

“So how did your day’s classes go?” she asked.

 

“Arithmancy was wonderful.  I heard that divination was… strange.”

 

“I’ve heard about Trelawney,” Daphne replied.  “The older Slytherins would complain about her.  She always marks someone for death.”

 

“She marked me,” Harry explained.

 

“Oh.”

 

“It was a really subdued situation… he had the Grim and everything…”

 

“Maybe it was just showing me,” Daphne muttered, which caused Ron to snort.  “What about Care of Magical Creatures?”

 

“Hagrid showed my mother-in-law to the 7th years, for one,” Ron replied, as he got to work on some Transfiguration homework.  “He showed us a hippogriff. She liked Harry. Didn’t like Malfoy so much though…”

 

“What happened?”

 

“Malfoy was a right prat to the Hippogriff, and then made a scene when she attacked him.  And Hagrid had been very clear about what happens if you’re a right prat.”

 

“So, Malfoy causing trouble?” Daphne replied dryly. “Say it ain’t so.”

 

Ron snorted. Daphne really was slotting right into their friend dynamic. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I’m kind of worried about Hagrid, though.”

 

“Hippogriff baiting is a crime- with ‘the results of said baiting’ being the listed punishment.  Hagrid should be fine,” Daphne promised.

 

“This is Malfoy we’re talking about,” Ron pointed out.

 

“...Bugger.  Yeah, we should probably go talk to him,” Daphne decided.

 

“Do you want to come?” Hermine asked.

 

“Well, I’m your friend, right?  The least I can do is be on the lookout for Black or Dementors.”

 

*****

 

They’d barely made it out of the castle before a fog of dread and despair descended on them. Instantly, Ron, Harry, Daphne and Hermione fumbled for their wands.  It didn’t matter much; Harry tensed up as the chill crept into the air, a dark-robed figure descended out of the air towards them, but as it approached, the whispers of agonizing memories slowly began to fade.

Hermione watched the dementor approach with wide, shocked eyes. “I thought they couldn’t come onto the grounds!” she said nervously.

 

The dementor descended, looming ominously between them and the path to Hagrid’s hut. For a moment, it did nothing.  And then, from within the depths of its hood, a familiar female voice mumbled, “Oh, yeah, right. Forgot about that. Oops.”

 

She pulled her hood back, revealing Diana’s fine-boned features, shimmering hair, and unsettling leech-like mouth, split into what looked like it was supposed to be an easygoing grin.

 

Ron gave her an odd look. “I thought there was a barrier around the castle you couldn’t enter,” he said warily. “Also, uh, hello, Diana.”

 

Diana smiled disarmingly at him; the fact that she didn’t seem to have teeth, and that all that was behind her lips was an empty, howling black void, made him feel very not disarmed.  She waved a hand. “Nice to see you guys again,” she said warmly. “And yeah, there’s a barrier.”

 

Harry blinked. “But you’re… here,” he said awkwardly. “How?”

 

Diana shrugged. “Don’t worry about it,” she said cheerily, ensuring that all of them were now worried about it.  But still, there didn’t seem to be much they could do about that, so they decided to let it slide. 

 

“So,” Ron said, after realizing that he was apparently the only one Diana knew well enough to not make small talk awkward, “any particular reason you came to us, or did you just wanna say hi?”

 

Diana grinned. “Oh, I just wanted to say hi,” she replied. “You were the nicest guy I met on the train, so I thought I’d introduce myself in a way that didn’t, y’know, give people horrible traumatic flashbacks.”

 

Harry looked mildly insulted at that, but Ron was getting increasingly used to weird non-human ideas about personal interaction, so he simply nodded and said, “Well, why don’t I introduce you properly?”

 

Diana beamed at him, and Ron tried to not get freaked out by the way her jaw contorted. He found that he mostly managed it, having so much experience with Ari. (To say nothing of his… experience, now that they’d started actually enjoying the benefits of Hogwarts’ bylaws on permitting married students to share a bed, along with the miracle of bed curtains with silencing charms.)

 

So, he went around the circle, introducing Diana to his friends. They seemed mostly friendly, even if Harry was, understandably, a bit careful.  “Oh, yeah,” Diana said to him once they’d all been introduced. “Sorry about the train thing, by the way. Didn’t mean to still have the Bad Vibes aura going.”

 

Harry blinked, confused. “It’s, uh, fine,” he said slowly, trying to process the fact that a dementor had just used the word “vibes.”

 

Diana clapped gleefully. She was no longer hovering ominously over the group, having sunk down until long, nearly skeletal legs coalesced from the whirling smoke beneath her. On those legs, she was still shockingly tall and apparently rail-thin; she towered over almost everyone in the group, and even Ron, the tallest of his friends thanks to a summer growth spurt, was a good five inches shorter. Diana seemed to naturally favor a hip-cocked, hand-on-waist posture that softened the hardest edge off her height and made her seem teasing, playful, almost coy. That at least made her seem a little more human, even if the long ragged cloak and the mouth didn’t do much to soften her image as a terrifying soul-sucking creature of death and despair.  “So, where’re you guys headed?” she asked, looking at Ron, who glanced at his friends. 

 

“We were, uh, going to go see our friend Hagrid,” he said. Then, hoping the others would be okay with it, he offered, “You could… come along, if you want.”  For a moment, Diana said nothing, and Ron worried that he’d offended her or something. Without the ability to interpret the movements of her mouth, it was basically impossible to know what exactly the suddenly-misty look in her eyes meant.

 

“Do you mean it?” she asked softly.

 

Ron glanced back at Harry and Hermione, who shrugged, indicating they had no objection. Daphne, for her part, didn’t seem to think she had any right to weigh in.  “Sure,” Ron said. “Hagrid’s also the Magical Creatures professor, I think he’d love to meet you:”

 

Diana beamed, then, an expression so bright that it crossed the species barrier easily.  “Well then, Ronnie,” she said, eyes twinkling. “Lead on.”

 

Ron looked at the fifth member of the group, and did so.

 

“Did you just sweet-talk a dementor?” Daphne whispered.

 

“I can still hear you, and yes, he did,” Diana replied.

 

“I just… was polite.  I figured that it worked out well for me so far, so I’d just keep doing it.”

 

Harry looked at Diana, and then thought about the spider-woman currently asleep in Ron’s bed.  “Yeah, I’d say it’s worked out for you,” He said, after some consideration.  They continued the walk, and eventually, they were near Hagrid’s hut.

 

“We’re not out too late, right?” Ron whispered.

 

“The curfew is 10:00 PM,” Hermione told Ron.  “It’s only a quarter until nine.  We have time,” she promised him, as they approached the door.

 

“And I’m telling you, Rubeus, that you did everything right,” the voice of Severus Snape declared, before it went quiet.  The door was thrust open, and Snape eyed them.

 

“So, four Gryffindors. I am assuming-” Snape then noticed the fifth person in the group.

 

“Hi!” Diana said, waving.

 

“Mr. Potter?  Would you care to tell me why you have a Dementor following you?” Snape droned.

 

“I wanted to say hi to Ron,” Diana explained, her aura down low.  “He was nice to me on the train.”

 

“I see. Ten points to Gryffindor for common sense, Weasley.”  It was still hard for him to give points to their house, but there was much less dislike of it.  “I do believe this is the second time you have stumbled across something that has never happened before.  I am curious to see if you perform a hat trick.  Hagrid?  You have students and a friendly dementor here to see you,” he called in.

 

“‘M drunk, not hallucinatin’, Snape,'' Hagrid mumbled.

 

“Yes, well, either your liquor has hallucinogenic properties or I really am seeing Mr. Potter, and his three friends, along with a dementor on your doorstep, looking to see how you’re doing.  I shall take my leave.”  With that, Snape walked past them, before he gave them one last look.  “Mr. Weasley?”

 

“Y-yes, Professor?”

 

“...Never mind.”  With that, he left.  

 

The group shrugged, and entered Hagrid’s hut.  Hagrid took a look at them, then his bottle.  “Nope,” he said, putting the bottle down, and standing up.  “If yer’ real, stay there.  Goin’ ta sober meself up,” he said, thudding out of the hut.  There was a pause, before they heard a loud splash.

 

“Eh, not the worst reaction,” Diana said, shrugging.

 

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing with the dementor, but agreed,” Daphne decided, as they waited for Hagrid to come back.  Fang was slightly curious about the two new people.  Daphne proceeded to give him some nice pets, before Hagrid came back in.

 

“I guess I’m not hallucinatin’,” Hagrid said, slumping down to his seat.  “I’d be ruddy angry at you, Harry, for bein’ out here.  Black could be out here.”

 

“He has no wand, and I’m right here,” Diana said smugly.  “Trust me, by the time he was able to harm them, I’d have Kissed him silly.”

 

“Ye know what?  You’re an alright Dementor lass.  How’d you get through the barrier, anyways?”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Diana answered, waving her arm casually.

 

“Humph.  Didn’t know your kind could speak,” Hagrid mused.  “None of ‘em did when I was locked up.”

 

“I didn’t see you around,” Diana mused, getting a closer look.  “Then again, I usually roam the maximum security levels.  Lots of bad people down there.”

 

“Like Sirius Black?” Harry asked.

 

“Him and worse.  His cousin… there’s about ten thousand screws loose, and that’s without the inbreeding,” Diana said, shrugging.  “So you said you four were visiting him?  So what are you here to visit him about?”

 

“We’re here to comfort you, Hagrid,” Harry said, walking up and holding Hagrid’s hand.  “It’s not your fault.”

 

“Yeah, Snape said somethin’ about that too.  He’s really changed in the past year… wonder what happened.”

 

“He got his head screwed on right?” Ron guessed.

 

“Yeah… he told me Malfoy’s still whinin’ in the hospital wing, saying it still hurts… wonder how Pomfrey hasn’t kicked ‘im out…”

 

“He’s milking it,” Harry grumbled.  “Probably to try to get you fired.”

 

“Yeah… Dumbledore says he’ll help me… but ‘ol Lucious likely went off to ‘th board of governors… jus’ cause he isn’t on them anymore doesn’t mean he don’t got any influence…”

 

“What they say?” Hermione whispered.

 

“Said I started off too strong- shouldn’t have done a three-x with Third years… hogwash.  They suggested I start you all with Flobberworms…”

 

“Seriously?” Ron snorted.

 

“Yeh… not doin’ that.  Instead, I think I’ll stick with creatures that I know’re safe for you…” Hagrid mumbled.  “Could do a whole lesson on Bella for everyone…”

 

“I think that giving everyone a lesson on one of the deadliest XXXXX creatures isn’t going to help,” Harry admitted.

 

“She’s smart.  She won’t rise to ‘th bait Malfoy’d throw,” Hagrid muttered.  “Or I could do centaurs… maybe Unicorns if any o’ them are willing to show… Snidgets, maybe?”

 

“Aren’t those XXXX?” Ron asked.

 

“Only so ‘yer don’t try ta squish ‘em.  They’re harmless,” Hagrid replied, waving his hands.  “It’s nice ‘ta see you all coming down here for support… but it’s probably late… and miss…”

 

“Diana,” Diana told Hagrid.

 

“Would’a be willing to work with the seventh ‘n sixth years?”

 

Diana gave a grin.  “I don’t see why not?” she said.

 

“Good… that’s enough lesson plannin’...”

 

“Hagrid… I think you’re still doing a bit too much…”

 

“Nah… I was ditchin’ some o’ my other plans…” Hagrid picked up a letter, and tossed it into the fireplace.

 

“I’m genuinely concerned about what that letter was about,” Ron muttered.

 

“‘Jus a letter to an old friend ‘o mine and Dumbledore’s.  Don’ worry about it.  Now you should probably head out… gettin’ close to curfew.”  The group nodded, and left, leaving Hagrid in slightly better spirits.  “Heh… hearin’ them being supportive helped…” he said to himself, and then, he got back to his lesson plan.  “Oh, Dumbledore… you don’ have ta do that…”

Notes:

If you haven’t yet noticed, we’ve added a fic to a series with this one, which will include all the smut scenes that we’re replacing with fade-to-blacks in the main fic! The first chapter (covering the Ron/Ari scene in chapter 18) is up now, so go check that out if you’re interested in the horny side of this fic!

Chapter 22

Chapter by ColdLuigi

Notes:

A very long chapter for you guys today. Enjoy!

Draco didn’t return to classes until a Double Potions class with the Griffindors and Slytherins on Thursday, sauntering in like he was a survivor of a great battle.  The Third Year Slytherins burst into applause, like he’d miraculously survived anything beyond his own stupidity.

 

“That’s quite enough of that,” Snape declared, looking up from the inspection he was doing on Neville’s cauldron (“You have improved tremendously, Longbottom.  I do hope you keep doing so”) “Everyone, please go back to your potions.”  Draco placed his potion near Harry and Ron’s potion.  “And Mr. Malfoy, while other teachers may be interested in your theatrics, need I remind you that even the simplest potions can cause immense damage if done improperly?” he groused, looking over Hermione’s potion (“I would be anxious to see, Miss Granger, if I could use this to shrink the egos of some students”).

 

“But I can’t…” Draco groaned.

 

“Madam Pomfrey is an exceptional Healer, and has dealt with much worse then a mere slash from a hippogriff.  Your arm is fine,” Snape growled, now looking very annoyed.  “Your actions speak poorly of one of my colleagues- one who I have a close friendship with as both a supplier of potions and on a personal level.”

 

Draco stopped acting like a wounded veteran, betrayal in his eyes.

 

“And don’t give me that look, Draco.  Your father wouldn’t want you to slack off in your studies.”  With that, he strode over to the other side of the class.

 

“I don’t know what that old fool did to him last year, but he’ll regret it,” Draco grumbled.

 

“Who, Dumbledore?” Harry asked.

 

“We really need to send him a thank-you card,” Ron whispered to Harry, who nodded.  Now that Snape had changed for the better, and was seeming to stay that way, potions had actually been a lot more enjoyable.  Not hearing sneering remarks about his father every other minute, and not seeing him bully Neville, and even toning down his favoritism, had done wonders for the atmosphere of the area.  Honestly, Snape was becoming one of the teachers he liked… well… ones he liked more than Binns, at least.  Harry was brought out of his musings at Ron putting in the roots he had carefully cut over the course of a half hour into the potion.  “Do you think they were good enough?” he asked.

 

“They should be, yeah,” Harry replied.  “And we know why you’re putting it on, Malfoy- trying to get Hagrid fired.”

 

Draco snorted.  “Doesn’t matter.  Father’s too influential.  The Minister listens to him- far more than he used to listen to Dumbledore, of all people!” Malfoy chortled.  Just then, there was a hissing from Neville’s cauldron, and Snape damn near teleported over.

 

“Mister Longbottom?  Did you put in too many rat spleens?”

 

“N-no… I only put in one, like you said,'' Neville whimpered.  Snape looked down at the potion, and frowned.  He then looked to Neville, and saw that he had written down the instructions to help himself remember them. 

 

 “Miss Granger?” Snape called.  “Please help Mr. Longbottom with his potion.”  Hermione nodded, and walked over, sitting down next to him, and whispering instructions.  Neville looked like he’d been struck on the head by something particularly heavy, as Snape walked away, cloak billowing as usual.  Harry tore himself away from the strange sight (And thus, Snape earning a few points in his book) and went back to the potion.  Seamus had moved close to them, his potion currently at the point that it had to sit for a little while.

 

“Hey, Harry!  Sirius Black was sighted by a Muggle!” he whispered.

 

“What, really?” Ron asked.

 

“Yeah, by a Muggle.  Apparently the Muggle news was told that he was a madman with a gun, so they kept their distance, but he wasn’t too far from here!”

 

“That’s not good,” Ron whispered.  “Do you think he’ll try to get into the school?”

 

“Why, Weasel?  Want to sic your pet spider on him?” Draco snorted.  “Or perhaps you want to catch him single-handedly, Potter?  Have that be your end-of-year meddling?” he spat.

 

“No thanks.  I’m happy at being two for three on the ‘nearly killed by Voldemort at the end of the year’,” Harry replied, which caused those nearby to flinch.  “At the very least, he respects my need for education.”

 

Seamus let out a snort, and went to add the final touches to his potion.  Hermione was bouncing back and forth between her own potion and Neville’s, as Neville seemed to at least be somewhat capable of doing some things on his own.  

 

“And you won’t go after him yourself, Potter?  After what he did?”

 

“He killed twelve people.  I’m not keen on being the thirteenth,” Harry explained.

 

“Oh… so you don’t even know?  No one told you?” Draco sneered.

 

“Told me what?” Harry asked.  Ron just shrugged.

 

“Oh Potter, you poor, poor fool.  You don’t even know why,” Draco tut-tutted, turning back to his half-finished potion.  Harry was now very confused, as Ron finished their potion.  It seemed acceptable at the very least.  Harry then noticed that they were missing the last ingredient, so he hurriedly threw it in, just as Snape was walking around, announcing that it was time to finish.  He had seen the gentle splash.

 

“Mister Potter?  I do hope that was the finishing touches.  The Shrinking Solution is a deadly poison if brewed improperly.  Have you ever seen someone who’s had their heart suddenly shrink?”

 

“N-no sir,” Harry stammered.

 

“Then you are fortunate.”  Snape peered over the cauldron.  “A decent job.” He then went over some more potions, before coming to Hermione’s.  “Miss Granger?  Are you, perchance, hoping to sell this potion?” he asked, causing the class to turn to her.

 

“No, professor,” she said.

 

“With the quality of this brew, I would have thought otherwise.  Top marks,” Snape stated, going over to Neville’s cauldron.  The poor boy was sweating nervously.  “Passable, Longbottom.  There was only one mistake, and it was corrected quickly with help.”  That was all Snape said, turning to the Slytherins.  The rest of the students were getting up.  Harry decided to take a chance, and walked over to Snape, after he sent the Snakes from the class.

 

“Professor?” Harry asked.

 

“Yes, Mister Potter?” Snape inquired, turning to face him.  “If you’re concerned about Miss Greengrass, do not be.  The only parchment I received was two and a half feet from a fifth year, and it was all about the politics of keeping werewolves from accessing it so as to keep them out of the population at large- a failure in both counts.”

 

“That’s not what I was asking. Draco implied that I’d have a reason to hunt down Sirius.”

 

At this, Snape’s eyes darkened, and he clutched his wand with an iron grip.

 

“Professor?”

 

“If, by any chance, you do decide to do something as foolhardy as hunting Black down, please inform me first.  I shall accompany you, with the promise that I get the first ten minutes with him,” Snape hissed.  “Now move along.”  Harry, now exceptionally confused, did so.  Whatever reason he apparently had to go after a mass murderer was apparently similar to Snape’s.  He wondered what it could be.

 

*****

 

They had lunch (Bella was with them now, having come back from sunning herself on the shore of the lake) and then the Griffindors headed to the Defense class.  Daphne was looking excited- obviously looking forward to her guardian’s class.  Harry was admittedly curious.  However, when they arrived, he wasn’t there.  Harry got into a desk, and got his things out.  Bella was beside him, leaning onto him.  Some of the other Third Years were shooting jealous looks at his direction.  However, the silence didn’t last.  Lupin had arrived.  “Hello everyone, Miss Bella,” he said, nodding to the guest.  “This will be a practical lesson- you will only need your wands.”

 

“You’re not releasing pixies, right?” One of the Third Years asked.

 

“Oh no, nothing of the sort,” Lupin replied, a slight grin on his face.  “Pixies get everywhere.  Now, the lesson will be taking place elsewhere, so you’ll all have to follow me.”  Everyone was chattering to themselves as Lupin led them somewhere.  However, on their way, they encountered Peeves, filling a keyhole with chewing gum.  Bella just gave a frown.  Lupin cleared his throat.  Upon seeing them, Peeves gave a cackle.

 

“Well if isn’t Snakey Snake and Loony Lupin!” he giggled.

 

“Peeves, if I were you, I’d remove that gum from the keyhole,” Remus requested.  “While effective in blocking the door, Mr. Filch does, in fact, need the brooms.  I would kindly request you remove the gum.”

 

“Nuh-uh!  Nope!  Not for you or Sally’s Snake!” Peeves declared.  “Make me!”

 

“Is that a challenge I hear, Peeves?” Lupin had a wolfish grin that made Harry feel like he was watching one of the Weasley Twins.

 

“Yes!  Show me Loopy Loony Lupin!” Peeves cackled in joy.

 

Lupin pointed his wand at the door.  “Waddiwasi!” he shouted.  The gum slowly pulled itself out of the door, and Peeves started to have what little color he had drain from his face.  “Now then… engorgio!” The wad was now taller than a person.  With a grunt, Lupin hoisted the gum at Peeves, who was hit by it, and it slammed itself against the wall, Peeves still stuck to it  “Is that enough, Peeves?”  To everyone’s surprise, muffled laughter came from the gum.  “I’ll take that as a yes.  Come on, class,” Lupin requested, leading everyone forwards and into the staff room, which was where he had led them.  It was empty with one exception- professor Snape.  He had a book open, and was writing something.

 

“Good afternoon, Professor Lupin,” Snape grumbled, turning the page on his book and writing something down.  “Here for a lesson?”

 

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Lupin said politely.  There seemed to be a slight tension in the air.

 

“I see… is there any chance I may, perhaps… observe?”

 

“I don’t see why not.  Miss Bella is already here,” Lupin said, shrugging.  Snape got up, walked to the end of the room, and sat back down.

 

“I assume that your lesson is about what’s coming out of the closet?” Snape droned.

 

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Lupin replied, summoning a wardrobe.  Said wardrobe rocked a little.

 

“Ah, are you there, Remus?” a distinctly feminine voice inquired.

 

“Yes, actually.  Thank you for volunteering.”

 

“Who’s in the wardrobe?” Neville whispered.

 

“Technically not who, but what,” Lupin explained.  “A boggart is inside this wardrobe.”  That seemed to scare most of the class, and they hurriedly backed up.  “Would anyone like to tell me what a boggart is?”  As expected, Hermione’s hand came up.  “Yes, Miss Granger?”

 

“A boggart is a shape-shifter.  It takes upon the form of what it thinks the person it sees will fear the most.”

 

“Exactly right!” the voice from the closet replied. It was deep and honeyed, ever-so-slightly outside of a normal human range, which made every word oddly unsettling. “Sorry, but a girl’s gotta eat, y’know?”

 

“And that brings us to the subject of this lesson,” Remus said, patting the wardrobe.  “This boggart has recently moved in; as a species, they prefer dark places, like under sinks, closets, and the like.  Like I said, the one in this wardrobe moved in recently, and has paid her rent, so to speak, in offering to be a practical examination for you all,” Lupin explained.  “Now, a boggart has a weakness- a rather simple charm.”  Neville raised his hand.  “Yes, Longbottom?”

 

“A-are we sure we should… talk about it w-while she can hear?”

 

“It wouldn’t do me any good knowing.  And for the record, I do know that spell by name,” the boggart replied from the wardrobe.  “But that was excellent thinking of you.”  Neville blushed at the compliment.

 

“Indeed.  Fifteen points to Griffyndor,” Lupin declared.  “Now, the spell in question is:  Riddikulus!  Repeat it back at me!”

 

“Riddikulus!” the class chanted.

 

“Yes, yes, very good!  Now, what that does is turn the boggart’s shapeshifting against it- into something you can picture in your mind- turning your fear into something funny.  A boggart feeds off fear, but not laughter.”

 

The wardrobe rocked again. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the boggart said. “Can’t eat laughter. It’s like cotton candy–so sweet it just doesn’t taste very good. And the texture, yuck! Of course, we don’t just eat fear. Lupin knows what else we eat pretty well, ain’t that right?”

 

The class blinked at the oddly flirty tone the boggart took; in particular, Daphne looked like she was about to vomit at the implication. Lupin, though, just rolled his eyes. “If you don’t mind saving that for later, Betty, I’d appreciate it,” he said mildly. “Do recall that Dumbledore would like to come by to speak with you later, and I’d rather not have that conversation in flagrante, so to speak.”

 

The boggart–whose name was apparently Betty–just laughed. “Not face to face, I bet?” she asked. “He was awfully freaked out with the form I took last time.”  

 

Now that was intriguing- what was Dumbledore afraid of?

 

“Yes, though the wardrobe door,” Lupin affirmed.  “Now, who wants to go first?”  Much of the class backed off.  Neville was the one who didn’t back off fast enough.  “Well, Neville, I guess that’s you.  Now tell me… what is your greatest fear?”

 

“...”

 

“I didn’t quite catch that, Neville.”

 

“G-great Uncle Algie,” Neville whimpered.

 

Harry winced at that.  He remembered that name- the wizard who nearly killed Neville.

 

“Oh… oh Neville, I’m so sorry…” The boggart whispered.

 

“Now, Neville… is there a way that you can… make him funny?  What about your grandmother?”

 

“P-please no… I-I don’t want it to turn into her either!” Neville hastily exclaimed.

 

“Remus?  Be a dear and let me at his relatives, would you?”

 

“I will be having a talk with your grandmother…” Remus promised.

 

“Okay that does it- Remus, help him find a way to make him change his grandmother into something funny, because there’s so much fear coming from him that I’m already in his grandmother’s form… sheesh, she has no taste… a vulture hat?  Really??”  Nevile let out a whimper.

 

“Can you think of anything, Neville?  Anything at all?” Lupin requested.

 

“I… I think…” Neville whispered.  “No, I can’t!”

 

“How about option three?” the boggart asked.

 

“Her?  Yeah… I think I can work with that…” Neville murmured.  Lupin flicked his wand, and the lock on the wardrobe lifted.  Out strode a woman.  She was tallish, with long black hair.  Her eyes showed madness.  She wore a long black dress, which accentuated her pale, aristocratic features.  Many of the other students were afraid as well.  As for Neville?  Well, he had a look of pure rage.

 

“Redikkulous!” he shouted.  There was a cracking sound- not unlike a stock sound for a whip- and suddenly, the woman was wearing some of the worst clothing Harry’d ever seen- her hat had a stuffed vulture on it, a bright red handbag was in her grasp, and was wearing a truly garish dress.  The class burst into laughter, causing the boggart to look down.

 

“Oh come on!” she complained.  “I just got out of this getup!”

 

“Pravati!  Your turn!” Lupin called.  The girl stood in front of the irritated boggart, and watched as she shifted into a mummy, covered in fresh blood.  It let out a groan, and began to stumble forwards, trailing linen wrap.

 

“Redikkulous”  Crack!  Suddenly, the mummy tripped on its linen, and started spinning around, coming apart at the seams.  The rest of the class roared in continued laughter.  Eventually, the mummy ended up in front of Seamus.  As she stopped, she turned into a pale, emancipated woman with a green face.

 

“Redikkulous!”

 

“We’re no strangers to looove~ You know the rules, and so do I~”  This time, only the muggle raised Witches and Wizards were laughing, but it was enough.  Dean nudged Seamus aside, and the boggart became a disembodied hand.

 

“Redikkulous!”

 

And now it was caught in a mousetrap and showing Dean how she appreciated the change with a certain gesture.  Harry was then pushed up in front of the Boggart.  Lupin began to lunge, but before he reached, she turned into a dementor- not Diana, but a traditional one.

 

“Over here!” Lupin called.  The Boggart shifted again, and this time, it became a full moon.  Lupin was frozen for a moment, before he too shouted, “Redikkulous!”  It became a white balloon that zipped over the class, before flying back into the wardrobe.  Lupin quickly locked it.  “Thank you for your time, Betty,” he said politely.

 

“It was my pleasure,” the boggart replied happily.  “I’ve gotten enough food.”

 

“And with that, I think that class is dismissed!  Ten points for everyone who faced the boggart!”  The class hurried out, Bella following behind them.  Snape gave Lupin a glance.

 

“That was particularly brave of you, Lupin,” he said.  “Though I imagine that your worst fear being the moon of all things may make some of the class… suspicious.”

 

“I have no regrets.”

 

“But one thing does bother me… why slide in front of Mr. Potter?”

 

“I had assumed that the shape Betty would take would be Voldemort,” Lupin explained, which caused Snape to flinch.

 

“I think that Potter’s trifecta of victories against the Dark Lord give him little to fear from that madman,” Snape declared.  “Though I see that the dementor gave him quite the impression.”

 

“Indeed.  It appears he’s afraid of fear.”

 

“A wise fear,” Snape noted, heading out the door as well.  “Oh, and Lupin?  Do remember to meet me in my office, not the other way around.  Lugging a cauldron full of wolfsbane would lead to… suspicions, especially since I’d be carrying two doses.”  With that, Snape left the staff room, so as to check on the Wolfsbane. 

 

The full moon was in just a few days, after all.

 

*****

 

Defense Against the Dark Arts was soon becoming most of the students’ favorite class- and after two teachers that had been… well,  either a fraud or literally possessed by Voldemort, anything would have been an improvement.  Some of the Slytherins, however, didn’t like Lupin so much- many were giving him withering glares.  Harry decided to ask Ron about that during History of Magic.

 

“He’s on the werewolf registry, for one,” Ron told him.  “For another- he was against You-Know-Who, and proud of it.  A lot of Slytherins are the kids of You-Know-Who’s followers, so they don’t like him for that reason.”

 

“Do many of them… know?” Hermione whispered.

 

“It’s not really that common knowledge if you don’t read history of magic textbooks that came out in the last decade, and almost no one looks at the registry,” Ron replied, shrugging.  Harry and Hermione looked at him.  “What?  I gotta do something with my time in this class that Mum’ll accept as actually useful,” he said as Binns continued to drone.  “Do you think Dumbledore will ever get rid of him?” Ron asked, motioning to Binns.

 

“Who’d they replace him with?” Harry muttered back. “Nobody wants to teach History of Magic.”

 

*****

 

The weeks continued on, with classes resuming.  Snape’s year-long change continued.  Grades in potions were increasing, and people were dreading the class less.  Neville was also getting passing marks, and Harry had heard Snape talking to him after class.  Neville had come back actually looking happy.

 

“What was that about?” Harry asked.

 

“Oh, Professor Snape was telling me how Herbology is useful for potions-making, and gave me an assignment for extra credit, based on what types of herbs can be used for potions,” Neville replied.  “What happened to him?”

 

“That is still a mystery,” Harry muttered.  “It was almost a year ago, wasn’t it?”

 

“Halloween,” Hermione replied.

 

“Feels like longer, doesn’t it?” Ron mused, as they entered the common room.  “Oh, how was Ancient Runes?”

 

“Absolutely fascinating!” Hermione exclaimed, tail swaying in excitement.  “So many ways to have magic be used in writing!  So many combinations!”

 

“So many ways for things to go wrong,” Harry added.

 

“Well yes, but there’s so much to learn-”

 

Crookshanks let out a meow.

 

“HEY!” Hermione called out, tail puffed up in irritation.  Crookshanks meowed again, and took off.  “Anyways… How's Scabbers doing, Ron?”

 

“Poorly… ever since Egypt, he’s been wasting away… I mean, he’s lived for a really, really long time- probably magical residue- but… is this it?”

 

Harry gave Ron a few pats on the back in sympathy.

 

“Crookshanks still refuses to tell me why he hates him,” Hermione added.  “I told him you cared about Scabbers, and he was really sarcastic about it.”

 

Divination was an… experience.  Trelawney was very professional with Harry, while almost everyone else was looking at him like he was spun glass.  It was making things harder, especially when most of the class hung onto every word… except for her words saying he’d be fine.  Pravarti and Brown would even go there during lunch, coming back incredibly smug afterwards.

 

Care of Magical Creatures was, while not as exciting as the first lesson, still quite an enjoyable experience.  Hagrid showed them some two to three x creatures, and mostly stayed there, because, in his words, “I don’t want teh cause me grandson-in-law any embarrassment.”  Exactly three people there knew what he meant, and they sure as hell weren’t sharing that information.  Apparently the next seventh year lesson was on Basilisks- and for that time, Bella had returned to her full form.  Penelope Clearwater was allowed to be excused from the class, due to past trauma, though word of mouth was that she didn’t hold a grudge against Bella herself.  

 

The other thing occupying Harry’s time was Quidditch.  Oliver Wood, now in his seventh year, had stepped up his game.  Gryffindor hadn’t won the cup since Charlie Weasley was on the team, and Wood was desperate to win this year.  Last year, the only reason they hadn’t won was because the final match was canceled (Wood hadn’t blamed Bella.  Harry’d told him who the real culprit was and oh boy did Wood look pissed).  So he had a pep talk with all of them, and started really hitting them hard with practice- they weren’t going to lose this year.  Three nights a week, every week, damn the weather.  He said it’d be good practice in case the games were played on days with really bad weather.  He was willing to co-train with the Hufflepuffs when the need arose; as he said, “They’re not going to try to study our tactics. That’s cheating.”

 

Finally, there was the last thing Harry was looking forward to in October- the Hogsmeade visit.  Trelawny had told him, “Three for Three” in class.  Lavender and Patil thought that meant that he’d die or something.  Harry wondered if that meant something was going to happen that Halloween night.  He decided to ask Ron, Hermione, and Daphne.

 

“Well, I think she’s just guessing,” Hermione replied, nose deep in her Ancient Runes homework.  Harry had finished his earlier that day.

 

“I mean… she was going to see Dumbledore about that… and honestly, she’s not the worst there…” Ron admitted.

 

“She’s the one telling everyone Harry’s a dead man walking!” Hermione complained.

 

“Actually, she’s the one telling everyone that I’m likely going to find my way out of trouble, and have a high chance of survival, though she has been harping on Neville to ‘cast aside the pressures of those before you, so you can rise above them’.  It’s getting intense.”

 

Daphne yawned, eyes bloodshot.  “I think she just might be observant?  That might be it.”

 

“Perhaps… but then why would Dumbledore hire her?” Ron inquired.

 

“Counter-argument:  Binns,” Harry pointed out.  Everyone, including Hermione, groaned.

 

“Literally anyone would be better than Binns!  Even Lockhart!” Ron complained.

 

“Pre or post rewrite?” Harry asked.

 

“Both.”

 

*****

 

The next day, the six of them–Harry, Daphne, Bella, Ron, Ari, and Hermione–stood in front of the Hogwarts Express as it pulled into the station. Harry was clutching the Hogsmeade letter Molly Weasley had signed- after Black had escaped, she had done so with reluctance, before Ron had pointed to Bella, who was in her full form, sunbathing.  That had solved the issue, as any thousand-year-old Basilisk soulbound to defend your life from harm would.  

 

As they boarded the train, Hermione was talking about the sights at Hogsmeade.  Thankfully, the train ride was short, so she didn’t get to spoil everything about the trip- then again, she’d be with them the whole time, so anything she didn’t get to tell them in advance would be vomited out as they went from place to place.  One thing Harry did learn was that Hogsmeade was the only place in Britain that was completely populated by wizards-no Muggles lived there.  That was why they could safely visit, and also gave the place the same ability to host the bizarre and wonderful shops that filled places like Diagon Alley.  Ariana was looking forward to Zonko’s, and she dragged Ron there.  Daphne was a little paler, and shivering.  When Harry gave her a concerned look, she told him, “It’s the full moon tonight”, which made the group nod, and Harry gave her a one-armed hug as they followed Ron and his wife into Zonko’s.  Harry paid, of course.  Next, they decided to get lunch at The Three Broomsticks.

 

“It’s a very popular restaurant, especially when the students are in town, so it’s unlikely that we’ll get seats,” Hermione explained, as she entered the restaurant, and found it almost half empty.  Her left side showed completely empty tables.  The right side showed students and older witches and wizards eating, with their backs to the left side.  “What in the world?”

 

“Hey!  Ron!” a familiar voice called.  The group turned around, and sure enough, Diana was there, along with a couple of her… less human-appearing kin. On either side of her were fully cloaked and hooded dementors, radiating an aura of doom and despair that had people cringing away just at the sight of them.

 

“Diana?” Ron asked, heading over.  The others–even the non-humans, who were a little more resistant to the dementors–stayed where they were, paralyzed.  Harry was beginning to sweat profusely.  The two dementors near Diana moved towards Ron, but Diana let out a low, whooshing sound–their language, it sounded like–and the two begrudgingly sat back.  Ron felt like they were glaring at him.  

 

“What are you doing here?  No offense, but…” Ron just motioned to the rest of the restaurant.

 

“Patrol duty,” Diana said, shrugging.  “Or at least, it was. This seems way more fun. Hey, Rosmerta!  Pull up some more chairs for us, will ya?” she called.  The owner of the bar came over, and did so, though she kept a wide berth from the two normal dementors.  Diana fished out quite a bit of gold, and handed it to her.  Rosmerta just headed back to the kitchen.

 

“Hey… can you ask your friends to… turn it down a little?” Ron also requested.

 

“Sure.”  Diana said something in their whooshing language, and the nightmare-tasting air nearly disappeared.  “It’s as low as it can go.  It should be safe for you all to sit down.  I’ll pay.”  Ron motioned for the rest of the group to follow, and they slowly began to sit down.

 

“I didn’t know dementors had a currency system,” Hermione stated, her thirst for knowledge enveloping her.

 

The two normal dementors let out low whooshing sounds.  “That’s laughter, by the way,” Diana explained. “Also, what, you thought we guarded Azkaban for the fun of it? Nah, the Ministry pays us. Not enough, obviously, but hey, tough times and all that.”

 

“Can they… speak?” Harry asked, still eyeing the faceless hoods of Diana’s companions.

 

“English?  Nah.  Most of us can’t speak human languages,” Diana replied, shrugging.  “But we all understand it.”

 

“Why can you speak them?” Harry asked.

 

Diana raised an eyebrow.  “Don’t worry about it.”  There was a short whoosh from both of the two normal dementors around her.  Diana’s eye twitched a little.  “So… Hogsmeade weekend, right?  I know a bit about Hogwarts history–got quite a bit of time on my hands to read.”

 

“Wouldn’t that distract you?” Daphne wondered.

 

“Nah.  Right now I can tell exactly how many humans are around me,” Diana promised.  “I guess you could say it’s ‘preydar’.”

 

Ari nodded.  “You can sense your prey around you?  How far is the range?”

 

“Quite far.  Useful, really.  It doesn’t pick up other dementors, though.  It would be more useful if it did.”  There were a couple of laughing whooshes.

 

“Those two friends of yours?” Ron asked.

 

Diana fell quiet for a moment, head at a forty-five degree angle, ghostly braid dangling down her back. Her smile wavered, and for a moment, the peppiness that she’d been wearing since the moment they’d met her slipped from her face. “Something like that,” she finally said, though she sounded a little sad.  “When I told them I wanted to visit the pub, they insisted on coming along.”

 

“Dementors can eat human food?” Hermione asked, as Rosmerta came by with some water.  Harry quickly drank his.

 

Diana grinned–or at least, she parted her monstrous lips, folding them outwards and chortling. “Yeah.  Our main food source is happiness and souls, and we’re constantly feeding off that when we’re around it, but we can consume and digest human food.  I swear, the rest of them would not shut up about butterbeer…” She raised her hand, and had another round brought to them.  The two normal dementors took a mug each, clinked them, and took a swig.  It was unnerving to see two beings chug a beverage and not hear the sound of chugging. 

 

“Fascinating… I wish I had a notebook with me,” Hermione whispered.  “No one’s ever documented your kind before!”  One of the other dementors let out a short whoosh, which caused Diana to snort.

 

“No one mentioned that acromantula were able to turn into hot women either, but I haven’t heard you ask about that, either,” Ron snarked, as Ari hugged his arm to her chest.

 

“Actually, it’s been brought up in ‘X x or Being?’,” Hermione explained.

 

“Brought up in what now?” Daphne asked.

 

“It’s a fringe book- it discusses which magical creatures we list as ‘beasts’ should actually be shifted to ‘being’, on accounting of intelligence and possible ability to integrate.  It’s… not a well-received book.”

 

“Prejudice strikes again,” Ron mumbled.  “It would have been really helpful to have…”

 

“Would you have risked following the spiders if you had known?” Harry asked, chuckling.

 

Ron made a sheepish face. “Honestly?  Possibly.  Hormones and all.”

 

Ariana chittered, fanged mouthparts flashing. She’d been much more free with that lately. “That has turned out quite well for you, hasn’t it?” she teased, turning Ron around and French kissing him.  Harry noticed a look of… was that longing?... on Diana’s face for but a mere moment.  “So, what was your plan after this?” she asked, finishing the kiss just as Rosmerta came to take their order.  Diana translated for her friends.

 

The four humans and the acromantula all placed their orders, and then replied to her question.  “I think we were planning on heading to Honeydukes after this- for dessert, you know?” Ron asked.  “If you want to join us…”

 

The two dementors began whooshing at each other. They turned to Diana, and said something low, almost like hissing.  Diana’s face got red, and her smile began to slip. Then, she looked thoughtful.  She gave a whooshing response to her companions, who relaxed again, long, bony fingers folded in front of them. Odd, for all that they seemed to joke with Diana, they seemed less like friends and more like…something else. Harry couldn’t put his finger on why they seemed off to him. Something about the way their dark hoods continually watched the door, maybe.

 

“What was that all about?” Ariana inquired.

 

“Definitely don’t worry about that,” Diana stated, waving a hand dismissively.  “I’d love to go… but I’m not sure my entourage would be welcome. Happy kids in a candy shop are… well…”

 

“Like kids in a candy shop for you?” Ron guessed.

 

“Exactly.”

 

“I don’t mean to be rude… but do you think you two could… I don’t know… wait a bit away from the candy shop?  If you want anything, you could tell Diana and we could get it for you,” Ron promised.

 

The rapid whooshing picked up, and Diana was now looking a bit embarrassed.  Just what were they talking about?  Eventually, they just nodded, and, thankfully for Diana, Rosmerta came out with their meal.

 

*****

 

Ron’s hands were occupied during their visit.  While Hermione was wrapped around Harry’s side, Ron had Ari on one side, and Diana was behind Ron.  Soon, the smell of sweets entered their nostrils.  The group of six rushed into the candy store, while the two normal dementors just sort of hovered outside, obviously anticipating something.  Hermione was sniffing the air, her enhanced senses causing her to enjoy the place more than the rest of the students.  Harry picked out some cat-looking candies, which she immediately pleaded for.  Then Ron found the ones with catnip in them.  Harry bagged those up before Hermione could lunge for them.

 

“Does she get affected by catnip?” Diana asked.

 

“Oh yeah.  It really mellows her out,” Ron said.  “When she’s getting too stressed we get one of the catnip mice out and none of us are stressed twenty minutes later. Harry especially, if she gets too into it.”

 

“Ron!” Hermione groaned.  

 

Ron fell silent, but that just left an opening for Bella to lean over towards Diana and hiss, “Do you know what catnip is?”

 

Diana shook her head, and Bella’s forked tongue flicked out, revealing a grin that promised nothing good. “It’s an aphrodisiac,” she declared. “Harry is quite a lucky man indeed.”

 

Hermione made a sound halfway between a wheeze, a groan, and the sound a cat made when it had a hairball in its throat. Harry’s face turned red.

 

This just caused Diana to laugh, which caused a few students to wonder who the taller woman was.  Luckily for Hermione’s dignity, they soon shifted their attention onto the huge variety of candy on display. They ended up grabbing more then a few bags of sweets.  The dementors outside took some of the bags, and began to dig into the chocolate frogs.

 

“So dementors like chocolate as well?” Hermione mused.

 

“A little too much, sometimes,” Diana admitted. “I really should watch my weight more.”

 

Ron raised an eyebrow, glancing up and down Diana’s body. The girl was one of the skinniest people he’d ever met, slender and nearly skeletal; not in an unhealthy way, just…well, very slim. Certainly, her svelte, fine-boned form wasn’t one that needed any concern about watching weight.

 

Before he could remark on it–or notice Ari’s eyes lingering on the way his eyes lingered on Diana’s body–the subject changed again, as Hermione took Harry’s hand and declared, “Come on, I wanna see the Shrieking Shack!”  

 

They all followed the catgirl eagerly. Hermione, having read the guide and layout of Hogsmeade in Hogwarts: A History, took them to a secluded hill, with barbed wire between them and the shack.  Diana’s friends had just taken their candy and left.

 

“So… the most haunted place in Britain?” Ron mused, looking over the quiet shack.

 

“They said that every full moon it would… get really, really… loud…”

 

“And when was that, exactly?” Harry inquired.

 

“When… Professor Lupin would’ve been a student.”

 

“Huh, that’s a weird coincidence…gonna go check to be sure.”  Diana pulled her hood over her head, and floated off.  The rest of them–who couldn’t fly–watched her leave.

 

“Do ghosts fear dementors?” Ron wondered aloud.

 

“Not as much as Potter does!” a familiar voice declared.  With a groan, the group turned around.  “So, Weasley… house-hunting?” he snarked.

 

“Why would he?  The Burrow’s great!” Ari declared, grabbing Ron’s arm and hissing, mandibles visible.

 

“I bet for vermin like you, it is!” Draco snorted.  “One room, and from the sounds of it, dug into a hill!  Oh, I bet that makes Hogwarts look like a luxury home!”

 

“Ari, don’t,” Ron told her.  “He’s just jealous.”

 

“What would I, or anyone of my standing, have to be jealous of?  Your family is nothing but poor blood-traitors!”

 

“Blood-traitors?” Ari asked.

 

“Pureblood families that don’t think that inbreeding equals racial superiority,” Ron explained.

 

“He has actual friends, not people he has to buy off!” Hermione snapped.

 

“Shut it, Half-breed!” Draco spat, before turning to Daphne.  “And what about you?  Thinking of finding a moor to run on?!”

 

Daphne flinched, but said nothing.

 

“Do you seriously have nothing better to do than to flap your lips at us, Malfoy?” Ron deadpanned.  “Honestly, you’re so pathetic !” he snorted.  Malfoy went for his wand, and fired off a jinx.  Ron dove for cover, the red light arcing towards the shack.

 

“That’s not allowed!” Hermione called out, before Crabbe lunged for her.  She leapt out of the way.

 

“Who cares?!  No one’s here to see us!”

 

“I am.”

 

Draco paused, and looked up.  Diana had her hood uncovered, and she was glaring daggers at Draco.  Ron could feel the change in temperature.  Where he and his friends were, there was only a minuscule pull.  But facing Draco… he could see frost, and the three Slytherins’ teeth were chattering.

 

“D-d-d-dem-” Goyle sputtered.

 

“My name is Diana,” she growled, forming her long legs, and striding up to Draco.  She grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him to her face.  Now, the only thing that was coming out of his mouth were screams.  Diana looked him over, wrinkled her nose, and then tossed him down, causing him to crash to the ground.  “Not good eating,” she stated.

 

“M-my-”

 

“Your father, Draco Malfoy?” Diana spat.  “Oh yes, do call him.  I’ll be sure to welcome him with a nice, sloppy Kiss, while you and your mother watch !”  She lowered her aura enough for them to stop gibbering.  “Now get out of my sight.”  The three scrambled back- slipping on some mud that had been dirt only a few moments before- and ran.  Diana just threw her head back and laughed.

 

“Holy shit,” Daphne whispered.

 

“I’ll say,” Ari added, clinging to Ron.  Diana turned around, facing them.  Ron didn’t show any fear.

 

“Thanks, Diana,” he said, nodding.

 

Diana smirked.  “Any time.  It’s nice to let loose a little on pricks who deserve it,” she said.  “Anyways, I should probably head back on patrol.  You continue your date!”  With that, she slid her hood back on, and flew off.

 

“Wait… date?” Harry whispered in shock. Hermione raised one eyebrow, whiskers twitching. Beside her, Ron and Ari shared a knowing glance of their own, identical grins spreading across their faces.

 

*****

 

Harry had not realized that he’d taken Hermione on a date, much to the catgirl’s humor. As punishment, he was now having to carry all their bags back onto the Hogwarts Express, which he was doing without complaint; it seemed he really had learned a thing or two, after all.  Daphne was chuckling at that as well, even as she shivered more.  The moon’s pull was growing ever stronger.  As they boarded the train, her friends got a look at her.

 

“Wow… you really don’t look good,” Ron surmised.

 

“Y-yeah… gotta get ready for tonight,” Daphne muttered.  “And then there’s the Wolfsbane… it tastes so vile. The worst part is that sugar makes it useless, and I don’t want to know how that was discovered.”  There were a few anxious chuckles, as Ron looked out the window.

 

“What’s on your mind?” Ari asked him.

 

“I’m wondering about Diana,” Ron stated.  “I mean… she’s different from the rest of the dementors, right?”

 

“I mean, that’s obvious,” Hermione replied, nodding.  “What do you think that means?”

 

“Maybe she’s just special?”

 

*****

 

Deep in the Forbidden Forest, three shadowy figures touched down at the center of a glade of gray, twisted trees.

 

All around them were dozens more of their kind; their base camp had been deliberately set far from those they would protect, amidst trees that had died slow deaths to the chill and the despair of their presence. They bore this indignity without the slightest hint of discontent–it was reasonable. After all, the humans feared them, and fear was a thing that all dementors understood perfectly.

 

The camp was full of those not currently on patrol–the finest guards their people had, reassigned here on the whim of the government which had claimed their loyalty generations before. Some roamed the woods, experiencing a place which was not a storm-blasted, godforsaken rock in the hellish North Sea for the first time in their not-quite-lives. Others lapsed into the torpor that passed for sleep among their kind–as dementors were not, in the strictest sense, alive, they did not exactly need to rest. But then, as they were not dead either, nor could they exist indefinitely without some form of respite. As in all things, they found an false compromise–a thing which was not really what they needed, but sufficed.

 

No matter what the dementors were doing, however, they all sank to the ground as the newcomers arrived, kneeling with heads bowed, every one. Even those lost in the nightmares which accompanied them everywhere jolted themselves back to reality at the barest hint of movement, genuflecting so smoothly it was as if they had been awake the whole time. It was meant as a mark of respect, and of submission–but to the girl who kept her hood down, unlike all her kin, it felt colder than that.

 

“You may rise,” she hissed in the language of their people, the language of pain and death and misery, whispering like the howling winds in the night. Here, among her own, she stopped suppressing the hints of her true form–the little tells that she liked to hide when among the truly alive. Gold wove itself through her hair, a glamour lifting to reveal a gleaming crown of smoke and bone, growing as if from her very skull. A part of her she could not remove, no matter how much she might have wished to. The tines which rose from that jagged crown seemed to burn off like morning mist as they clawed for the sky, the smoke they gave off blowing back away from her head in an unseen wind, leaving a trail that blurred into her brilliant white hair so that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

 

The dementors obeyed her, rising to their full, inhuman heights without a sound. But she did not move–and so, neither did they.

 

Behind her, one of her companions spoke. “Your Grace,” they–few dementors bothered to gender themselves, aside from herself–murmured. “What is it about this human boy that draws your eye so?”

 

She frowned. “What are you implying, Sorrow?” she asked, voice cautious, layered.

 

Her guard. Sorrow–one of the only real companions she had, one of the few who she thought truly knew her–did not look directly at her as they spoke. Their head was bowed, their hood masking whatever lay beneath. “I imply nothing, Your Grace,” they intoned. “I was merely wondering if you wished to share your cunning and insight with us humble servants.”

 

A human would have heard sarcasm in such words, but dementors–most of them, anyway–were not capable of such a thing. The words that Sorrow had spoken were ones they meant, completely and utterly. It made Diana sigh, her eyes distant and full of loneliness.

 

“I do not think you would understand, Sorrow,” she said.

 

Sorrow nodded. “Of course not, Your Grace,” they agreed. “Your greatness far exceeds the capability of one such as myself to understand. I merely worry…”

 

Diana’s head snapped up. “You worry?” she asked. It was very rare indeed that Sorrow–that any dementor–dared to express such sentiment to her. For a moment, she let herself wonder if, perhaps, she’d somehow broken down the pedestal that Sorrow worshiped her upon. She’d thought it had been working in the Three Broomsticks; it had been the first time either of her guards had made a joke in her presence, or shown anything but strict obedience and devotion. Maybe she’d finally have something other than servants. 

 

Maybe she might even have a friend.

 

It was not Sorrow who spoke, then. It was her other guard, Pain. “I beg your pardon for daring to voice such thoughts, Your Grace,” they said, “But I am unsure whether your mother would have approved of your choice.”

 

Diana whirled, then, the pain of being wrong lending the motion a sharpness that sent every dementor in sight back to their knees in a heartbeat, submitting utterly before those eyes that burned like a solar eclipse, before the hair the color of a ghost, before the Crown of Bone, before the curled sneering lip of Despair’s Own. Pain and Sorrow were no exceptions; she had not even completed her turn before her oldest companions had hurled themselves at her feet, trembling in fear, and yet accepting their deaths should she choose to wipe them from the earth for their insolence.

 

For the first time, Diana found herself genuinely tempted to do just that. “My mother,” she hissed in a voice colder than death itself, “is not here. I rule. Do not speak to me of her approval.”

 

A full ten seconds passed before Pain managed to reply. “Yes, Your Grace. Her name shall be anathema to me. Forgive this foolish one for such a grave insult. I accept your judgment without reservation, Your Grace. I shall accept my sentence and wander the Shadowlands for six millennia–”

 

Diana growled, and Pain fell silent once again. No doubt they expected to suffer for their words–the dementors worshiped her, to a truly incomprehensible degree. Had she given the order, every one of them would have willingly destroyed themselves, undergone the most exquisite tortures.

 

It wasn’t power. It was a pedestal, a trap so perfect she’d given up trying to escape a long time ago. It was a coffin–she knew that firsthand, had seen it kill those she loved.

 

Diana spun again, away from her prostrate guards. “I have no judgment for you, Pain,” she said, her anger passing through her like all emotions did–weakly, fleetingly, nothing compared to the raging void where another being’s soul would be. “You will not walk the Shadowlands today.”

 

A rustle filled the air from the kneeling dementors; a human audience would have been whispering amongst themselves, stunned by the display of mercy. Dementors did not understand mercy, either. To them, there was only pain and its temporary withdrawal. That was another way they differed from her. Another reason they worshiped her.

 

Pain did not speak again, but Sorrow’s whisper filled the air. “You are truly good and wise, Your Grace,” they said. “But still, if you may deign to answer one so lowly as I…we know what we saw with that young man in the human pub. The red-haired boy, married to a Many-Legged One.”

 

Diana frowned. “And what did you see?” she asked.

 

For a moment, Sorrow did not answer. Then, they said, “This one is far too beneath you to dream of performing so crass an action as to remind you of your duties, Your Grace, but I still feel compelled to ask… have you considered the matter of your consort?”

 

Diana’s hands balled into fists. The few dementors which had begun to raise their heads and slip from their bows promptly flung themselves back onto the ground. Those who hadn’t risen pressed themselves even lower.

 

Diana took a deep breath. Then another. She closed her eyes, and red hair filled her mind. She knew the demands placed upon her. She knew her heart, too.

 

It was a far easier choice between them than she’d expected it to be. Maybe that should have scared her.

 

“I don’t expect you to believe this, Sorrow,” she said, “but I simply don’t know yet. I shall have to see.”

 

Sorrow accepted this without another word. Perhaps understanding that Diana would not be able to look at them again for some time without grave consequences, they and Pain faded into the crowd of dementors, which rose at Diana’s dismissive wave, returning to their duties without the slightest hint of complaint.

 

That allowed Diana to take a few steps into the forest, towards the towers of Hogwarts, rising above the treetops, and murmur the rest of her answer, the part meant only for herself:

 

“But I’m going to find out.”

Chapter 23

Chapter by ColdLuigi

A few hours later, after they’d returned from Hogsmeade, Daphne stared at the burbling potion sitting in front of her, and gulped. Beside her, Harry and Ron watched the potion swirl with suspicious looks. Hermione, sitting in Harry’s lap and allowing his fingers to scratch up her spinal column, seemed torn between enjoying those scratches and trying to mirror the others’ expressions.

Ron finally spoke. “Looks a bit like a shit smoothie, dunnit?” he muttered.

Hermione smacked Ron on the arm. “Ron!” she hissed- though admittedly she was curious as to how Ron knew what a smoothie was.

Daphne snorted. “Can’t say I disagree,” she admitted.

Ron raised an eyebrow. Ari had snuggled up against him in one of the comfy armchairs in the Gryffindor common room; the six of them—Bella, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ari, and Daphne—were more or less the only ones in the room, given how late it was on the night the full moon would rise. Every so often, though, another Gryffindor would come through—and they almost always gave Daphne an evil glare. Snakes weren’t trusted in Gryffindor House, even ex-snakes. Neither were werewolves…anywhere in the Wizarding World. Barely a few weeks in her new House, and Daphne already knew most of them hated her.

“Does it taste as nasty as it looks?” Ron wondered.

Hermione glared at him, but Daphne chuckled, grateful for the distraction from the nerves roiling in her stomach. She was stalling. Why was she not drinking the potion Snape had given her?

“It actually tastes worse,” she muttered mournfully. Her fingers clenched around the glass bottle.

Ron winced sympathetically. Daphne looked around the room again. She still didn’t get it; Harry and his friends had accepted her into their circle so readily, despite everything she’d done, despite what she was. Didn’t they know she was a werewolf? Didn’t they know how dangerous she was? That might have been why Bella’s presence, sitting in the corner and watching Daphne with wary eyes, felt so comforting to Daphne. She knew Bella was willing to fulfill her promise—to put her down if she ever put her new friends in danger.

Harry glanced at the bottle, then back at Daphne. “So…how does this work exactly?” he asked.

Daphne pursed her lips. “I… don’t really know,” she admitted. “I’ve used it before, but Lupin…didn’t explain much. He said that lycanthropy is “old magic,” and that the potion doesn’t stop the transformation so much as let me steer it a little.”

“So you’re still going to transform?” Hermione asked, purring under her breath as Harry stroked her back, tail twitching and brushing against his arms.

Daphne fought back a brief pang of jealousy at the sight to nod slowly. “Yeah,” she said. “Just… not into a mindless killing machine. Hopefully.”

Bella made a thoughtful noise from the corner. Daphne looked over nervously, but the basilisk said nothing, except for, “The moon is up, wolf-girl. Do you feel it yet?”

Daphne felt something rise in her throat. “Yes,” she whispered.

Despite the fire roaring in the hearth, despite the light of all her friends around her, she shivered as the moonlight crept in through the window. She could feel it calling to her. She could feel the beast stirring in her bones, in her blood. It was going to take her. It was going to tear her apart and stitch her back together into a monster. It was going to make her hurt her friends, make her rip and tear and kill—

A hand covered hers. Daphne glanced down to see that Harry had shifted to cup the bottle and her hands with it. “We’ll be here, Daphne,” he said gently, but so firmly it was as if he’d planted himself in the earth. “Whatever you need us to do, we’ll do it.”

Daphne swallowed down her fear. Somehow, the slightest touch from Harry Potter made her feel invincible. “Thank you,” she said. “But I don’t know if there’s anything you can do.”

Hermione spoke up, then. “We can stay with you,” she said. “Once you change. You won’t have to be alone.”

Daphne hesitated, then. She wanted to tell them not to bother—to get away from her, just in case. But then she thought about Diagon Alley, and about Lupin, curled up in his office right now, having surely taken the potion already, with no company except the cold, hateful light of the moon.

“I’d like that,” she whispered. Anything to keep the cold at bay.

Hermione smiled. “Then we’ll stay,” she said, and Ron, Harry, Ari, and even Bella nodded.

At last, Daphne could resist the call of the moon no longer. Her bones twisted, pain lancing through her, and she grunted, wincing as hair began to sprout on her arms. Panicking, she yanked the stopper from the bottle and gulped down the Wolfsbane. As always, it sat in her stomach for a moment, just long enough to make her think it would fail. She looked around the room, at the people who had taken her in when she had nowhere else to go.

She blinked back tears. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Hermione reached across the table. “You’re welcome, Daphne,” she replied, taking Daphne’s face in her hands as it began to twist and morph. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”

Harry came around the table, crouching beside her chair. Now, his nimble fingers scratched her back, easing the pain of her twisting, snapping bones. Daphne closed her eyes gratefully, and let the wolf rise to the surface. Gentle hands combed through her fur, the scents of love and warmth and safety filling her enhanced senses. Change overtook her, and for once, she almost welcomed it. It still hurt, but the presence of her friends made it better.

Harry and the others didn’t spend too long in the common room, after that. They petted the silver-furred wolf that Daphne had become, letting her snooze by the fire until it was finally late enough that their beds were calling.

Harry and Hermione parted reluctantly; Ari, of course, as Ron’s wife, got to spend her nights in his (sound-proofed and very much private) bed, while Harry and Hermione were still feeling out their own relationship, taking things slow and steady, sorting out where Bella fit into everything, among many other questions.

Glancing down at Daphne, Hermione said, “I… guess I’ll take her up to bed with me? It probably wouldn’t be too comfortable if she woke up tomorrow morning on the common room floor.”

Harry nodded. “Just… be gentle with her,” he asked. “I don’t think she needs any more issues to deal with in her life.”

Hermione snorted. “You can say that again,” she agreed. She managed to heft the sleeping form of the wolf into her arms. “Well… see you guys in the morning.”

She headed up the stairs to the girls’ dorm, carrying Daphne in her arms. Ron and Ari similarly disappeared up the boys’ stairs, followed by Harry. And finally, Bella followed behind Hermione, her old fears somewhat placated. In their place, new ideas began to form. Specifically, about how Harry really could use a lesson in proper courtship. It seemed he’d be needing it soon.

*****

Hermione managed to get wolf-Daphne up to her bed without too much trouble. At first, she laid the sleeping girl out on her own four-poster, but the moment she stepped away, high-pitched whines began to escape the wolf, her paws and snout twitching as she clearly began to have nightmares. Instantly feeling guilty, Hermione decided to just move the wolf to her bed. It just didn’t seem right to leave her on her own.

It really was shocking, Hermione thought, how quickly Daphne had changed. There was practically nothing left of the arrogant, sneering pureblood she remembered from the last two years. Instead, there was an anxious, twitchy, but dependable and funny girl whose eyes still hid an ocean of pain. A girl stiff with scar tissue, both physical and mental.

Hermione sighed, and began to change for bed. She’d given up on trying to keep her own hair—or Crookshanks’—out of her sheets a long time ago, so even if Daphne’s wolf form turned out to shed, it wouldn’t exactly be a big deal.

No sooner had Hermione changed, however, than she was interrupted again, this time by none other than Bella.

“Hermione,” the lamia said, slipping through the door and catching Hermione before she could close the curtains on her bed, activating their in-built silencing charm. “Can we talk?”

Hermione sighed. She still remembered their time at the Burrow—the time that had made it clear that she, Bella, and Harry existed in a messy, complicated triangle, one with tangled relationships and a lot of potential for harm and suffering. She didn’t want that. She loved Harry, and she knew Bella had similar feelings; how he felt was harder to pin down, but she didn’t think that making him choose would end in any way but pain for all of them. And besides…she still wasn’t sure how she felt about Bella.

“Fine,” she sighed, allowing Bella to slither onto her bed, before closing the curtains behind her.
Now in private and behind their silencing charm, the lamia glanced down at where Hermione was still gently petting wolf-Daphne, a smile playing across her lips. Then, she refocused. “I would like to talk about Harry,”

Hermione’s fur ruffled. “Yeah, I figured,” she replied. “I know you love him.”

Bella nodded. Her arms were crossed over her—extremely ample—chest, which Hermione always had to fight back an odd feeling in her gut about whenever she noticed Harry staring at it. It wasn’t jealousy, exactly. It was more like…desire. Desire for what, she wasn’t sure.

“I have made no secret of that,” the basilisk agreed. “He knows as well. But he loves you too.”

Hermione let out a deep breath. “Yeah,” she said softly. “So…”

Bella nodded. “So,” she echoed, “I wish for us to be honest with each other. Hiding our feelings away will only cause pain, yes?”

Hermione looked at the lamia with wide eyes. “I… okay,” she said. “So, what do you want?”

Bella glanced down at Daphne’s sleeping form, then back at Hermione. “I want us to talk this through,” she finally answered. “We have many decisions to make between us.”

“What kind of decisions?” Hermione asked slowly, squinting.

Bella raised an eyebrow. “Decisions like marriage, obviously,” she replied. “You and Harry have been courting for months, and yet you haven’t even discussed your dowry yet. What, do your parents lack sufficient lands?”

Hermione was, for a moment, struck completely speechless. She stared at Bella, who gave her an earnest look in return. At last, Hermione remembered, “Oh, right, she’s literally from the tenth century.”

“It, uh, doesn’t really work like that anymore,” Hermione explained awkwardly. “Marriage isn’t… okay, look, I’m just going to say that Harry and I don’t plan on getting married for a while.”

Bella frowned, but seemed to accept that logic. “Very well,” she replied. “Regardless, we still have the issue of, well, you, me, and him. If I were to… formalize my relationship with him… would you be opposed?”

Hermione blinked. Putting together the pieces, she slowly replied, “If you wanted to ask him out… I mean, I guess I’m not against it, it’s just… I never really imagined myself in this situation, you know? It’s all really new to me, and I don’t know how to go about sharing my boyfriend.”

Bella nodded. “I know,” she acknowledged. “And I… don’t know how to do this either. I don’t want to hurt you by accident. Or Harry.”

Hermione smiled, something in her chest feeling soothed. “And I don’t want to hurt you either,” she agreed. “That… seems like a pretty good place to start, I think?”

“Yes,” Bella agreed. “And also… does this only need to be us sharing Harry?”

Hermione’s eyes slowly went wide. “I don’t…what are you saying?” she asked.

Bella slipped closer, reminding Hermione that the lania’s only real idea of clothing was soft robes that strained quite severely around her chest. “Allow me to answer that question with another,” she said. “What do you know of why purebloods hate those like us?”

Hermione blinked in confusion. “I… assumed they were just bigots,” she admitted. Bella was definitely coming closer to her now.

The lamia nodded. “Oh, that is part of it, I am sure,” she agreed. “But another part—and this had begun even in my time—is our tendency to…entice even the most dignified of purebloods away from, shall we say, monogamy.”

Hermione’s eyes flicked open, as Bella’s hand landed on her thigh. Odd, how despite being reptilian, her fingers could feel so warm.

“The purebloods hated us because we seduced their men,” Bella explained. “Weakened the Lords’ grips on their families, drove them into debauchery…” her lips twisted into a smirk. “And corrupted their women.”

Bella’s fingers stroked across Hermione’s thigh, turning her cheeks red. “Corrupted them how?” she asked, trying not to pant.

Bella’s tongue flicked out from behind her lips. “I shall put it this way,” she replied. “It is very rare to find a monster girl- those like me, Ariana, or Diana- who does not have equal interest in both men and women. And over the years, there have been many like us who have found that there are few things in this world more enjoyable than taking a couple to bed. Together. Unfortunately, more than one pureblood woman in an arranged marriage with a dismissive husband has found that she preferred the touch of a monstrous woman to the touch of a monstrous husband.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. “You’re saying that you- monster girls, that is- were hated because you kept turning pureblooded women gay?” she asked.

Bella chuckled. “Something like that,” she said. “I never did have the opportunity to do it myself, of course— but I heard lots of stories from other lamia, to say nothing of what the harpies liked to get up to. Or the mermaids.”

Hermione’s curiosity nearly got the better of her, then— but she remained focused on the way Bella’s hand moved against her thigh. Her body was practically burning with heat.

Bella’s eyes seemed to glow as she leaned in closer. “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable, Hermione,” she assured her. “But while I may have great love for Harry… I will admit, you intrigue me, too. And that is why I have another question to ask.”

At that point, Hermione was fairly certain she’d have signed away her soul to Bella if she’d asked. She nodded weakly.

Bella’s tongue flicked out again. “You have been dating Harry for some time now,” she began. “Have you considered… intercourse with him?”

Hermione blinked. For a moment, she wasn’t sure how to answer. Then, she yelped. “I… what…” she stammered. “Bella, you can’t just ask that!”

Bella remained entirely unfazed by Hermione’s reaction. “Why not?” she asked reasonably. “We agreed to be honest with each other, did we not?”

Hermione frowned, ears and tail twitching with irritation. Then she sighed. “Okay, fine,” she decided. “Yes, I’ve… thought about it. I… don’t know, though. It’s exciting to think about… but I feel like it’d be so awkward. Neither of us know what we’re doing, really. And all the research I’ve been trying to do hasn’t really helped—”

Bella chuckled. “I should not be surprised that you did research,” she declared. “But allow me to make an offer, Hermione. I love Harry just as you do, and while I have never put it into practice, my upbringing gave me a rather greater amount of education into the art of lovemaking than yours seems to have. So, when you do take him to bed for the first time… would you like to do it together?”

Hermione froze, completely still, eyes wide with shock. She… hadn’t thought of that. Hadn’t even imagined it. And yet now that the words were in her brain, she couldn’t get them out. Her and Bella, with Harry…

Bella grinned. “You like that thought, don’t you?” she hissed. “The three of us together, teaching, learning… growing familiar with each other’s bodies.”

Hermione couldn’t help but be honest, then. She nodded weakly. “I… I do like that idea,” she admitted. “And… I trust you, Bella. I like you.”

Bella beamed. “You are a good person, Hermione,” she said. “It isn’t an easy thing, navigating feelings like this. I’m glad I’m sharing Harry with someone like you.” And then, without warning, she leaned in and kissed Hermione on the lips.

It was a very short kiss, little more than a peck. But in that moment of feeling the heat of Bella’s lips on hers, Hermione had an epiphany. “I think I understand how those pureblood women felt, now,” she thought to herself, dazed as she realized how much she liked kissing a lamia.

Bella drew back again, a laughing light in her eyes. “I think I will stay here tonight, if it’s alright with you,” she said, snuggling down into the pillows and curling up, with the sleeping wolf form of Daphne between her and Hermione.

Still out of it, Hermione lay back on the pillows herself, and nodded. “I, um… okay…” she murmured.

Bella hummed to herself as she wrapped the end of her tail around Hermione’s waist, drawing her closer. “We have quite the future ahead of us,” she mused. “Between Harry… each other… And then there is this one to consider…”

Hermione glanced over to see Bella’s hand stroking through Daphne’s fur. The wolf made a pleased-sounding rumble in her sleep, one leg twitching in happiness as Bella scratched her ears. “What are you implying?” Hermione asked suspiciously.

Bella’s answering smile was far, far too innocent. “Nothing,” she assured Hermione.

Hermione, not reassured in the slightest, decided to drop the issue. It had been a long day, after all. She closed her eyes, and fell into dreams full of snake tits and wolf tails. Oh, and lightning bolt scars too, of course.

*****

The next day was Halloween. Daphne had come down with Hermione, and while some of the Griffyndors were glaring, the fact that there weren’t any maulings that night seemed to soothe some nerves- or it was because Bella had slithered into the dorm room to keep an eye on things. Quite literally, given her ability to kill with a glance. As they exited the common room and made their way down to the Great Hall, it appeared that the Slytherins were counting them as they walked through- as if they weren’t sure that all of them had made it. Their grins got smaller and smaller as they successfully counted out the last of the Lions entering for breakfast. Fred and George were last, with Bella bringing up the rear.

“What’s gotten into them?” Bella asked.

“They were counting us,” Harry told her. Bella whipped her head around, and actually hissed in rage at them, sending some of the younger students, and some of the students from the other Houses, scrambling.

“You know, when she’s the pile of friendly scales, you forget what she really is,” Fred mused.

“Harry’s fanged servant?” George inquired.

“That joke died when Hermione was petrified,” Fred responded, as the twins sat down.

“They didn’t react this much during the last one…” Ron mused.

“Well, I was in Dumbledore’s office,” Daphne replied. “Even in the Snake Pit, people respected Dumbledore’s strength in magic… though they hated that he had that power.”

*****

The day was filled with anticipation for the Halloween Feast. To Harry’s joy, there wasn’t an interruption- no Voldemort-possessed teacher screaming about a Troll, no Deathday Party that ended up in a cat being hung from a wall… just a nice, easy feast. He looked up at the staff table. Snape was taking a glance at Lupin from time to time- and judging by the state of exhaustion he shared with Daphne, it wasn’t really hard to see why. Dumbledore was talking with Flitwick and Mcgonnagal about something, though whatever it was made all three of them laugh. Hagrid was just happy to be there, from the look of it, beaming as he ate his food. As usual, there was an empty place where the History of Magic teacher would have sat. Apparently it had just become a tradition at that point. Harry was feeling relaxed… until he saw several people rushing past him, whispering murmurs picking up.

“What’s going on?” he asked, as a couple of First-Years pushed past Bella. They slowly came to a traffic jam outside of the portrait.

Ariana held close to Ron, as they approached, ignoring Percy’s shouts of importance, until he said, “Get Dumbledore, now!” Some of the students raced off, but Fred and George pulled… something out from their robes.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” Fred whispered, as Harry reached them, and peaked around.

“What is that?” he whispered. Fred and George looked at each other.

“We’ll tell you later, Harry,” Fred promised.

“But for now, let’s find Professor Dumbledore,” George added. He opened the parchment, revealing a very detailed map of Hogwarts… and footprints of where everyone was. “Ah, here he comes,” George replied. “Mischief managed.” And like that, the map vanished. Harry turned around, and sure enough, the Headmaster was there. He looked shocked as the crowd parted. Harry managed to see the reason for his shock- the Fat Lady’s painting had been practically shredded!

“Peeves!” Dumbledore roared, startling everyone. The poltergeist appeared, eyes wide. “Did you do this?”

“No Headmaster!” Peeves sounded… frightened. Nervous. “We had a break in! I was trying to get to you!”

“A break-in… no.”

Peeves nodded. “Sirius Black was here,” he declared.

Dumbledore’s eyes blazed. “All Gryffindors? Go to the Great Hall immediately.”

*****

The Lions soon found themselves back where they had just come from. As they were going, Fred and George were pouring over that parchment.

“Did you check the dungeons?”

“Yeah… not there.”

“What about the passages?”

“Not there either…”

“What’re you talking about?”

Fred and George perked up. “Should we tell him?” George wondered.

“I think so… feels right, doesn’t it?” Fred mused.

“Since he gets into more trouble than us anyways… and with certain circumstances…” Fred began.

“Then his needs are definitely greater than ours,” George finished. “Now, Harry? This here is the secret to our success. It shows the castle, and everyone in it. Every minute of the day, in every part of the castle.”

“And you’re looking for Black?” Harry guessed.

“Exactly. Bastard’s not getting anywhere near our little siblings,” Fred snarled.

“Told you that nicking Percy’s textbooks was good for more than just a laugh,” George replied.

“Yeah, yeah… but the point stands. We’ll be setting up shop on the far end of the hall. Let’s see Black cross that distance before we can shout six syllables.” Fred snarled. “So, assuming we survive the night, we’ll hand it off to you. Now, to activate it, you tap it with your wand and say, ‘I solemnly swear that I am up to no good’. To de-activate it, you tap it again with your wand, and say ‘mischief managed’. Got that?” Fred asked.

“Yeah… why not give it to Ron?” Harry inquired.

“Ron’s life isn’t in danger thanks to a a certain snake-fucker who tried to take over our little sister,” George stated. “So you’re in more danger and need it more.”

“Nothing against Ron, but he’d have probably given it to you anyways,” Fred added on, shrugging, before the twins went back to the map. Harry snuck over to where Hermione, Ari, and Ron were. Bella was staring out towards the hallway, tail twitching in rage. He told the group about the Map.

“I’d hate to admit it, but they’re probably right,” Ron said, as the group huddled together. “And Bella’s probably not going to sleep at all tonight…”

“This is her home, Ron. How would you feel if someone broke into your home?”

“Sorry for them,” Ron answered, shrugging. “Mum would get to them before the Aurors.”

“You know what? Fair enough,” Harry answered, as the rest of the Houses came in. Bella had been watching them closely, which caused some of the students to be a bit nervous. Dumbledore came in, bringing up the rear. He put his wand to his mouth.

“I imagine that many of you are wondering why you’ve been brought here,” he said, voice amplified by his wand. “Tonight, the teachers and I will be conducting a thorough search of the castle. For your own safety, you will remain here.” Dumbledore flicked his wand, and hundreds of purple sleeping bags appeared. “And for reference- yes, these sleeping bags will cancel out snoring. Miss Bella? I want you to take up residence at the center of the Hall- full form if possible. Prefects? Watch the doors. Head Boy? Head girl? You’re in charge. If you see Black, and he is not incapacitated by Bella, then get a ghost, and those in Seventh Year have permission to engage him.” Bella slithered to the center of the hall, and slowly, she grew in size, until she was, once again, nothing but a snake. She coiled up into a ball, and her head rotated. Harry really, really hoped that she could change her vision quickly, or that it wasn’t all or nothing. Slowly, the students got into their sleeping bags. Ariana had her own, but she was right next to Ron. Harry got into his, but he had a hard time falling asleep. Every now and then, however, he’d see Bella, and felt just a little bit safer every time.

*****

Lupin and Snape were heading down the doors to the dungeons. Both of them were clenching their wands so hard that their knuckles were completely pale. “He was your friend, Lupin. Do you have any insight as to how he may have gotten in?”

“Aside from what I’ve told you and Dumbledore, no.”

“Right now I wish we had that map you and your friend group made,” Snape grumbled.

“It wouldn’t work- we made sure that we could disappear from the Map as needed,” Lupin explained. “It was in case you ever got ahold of it.”

*****

The break-in was the only thing people were talking about for a few days. The Gryffindor common Room was unguarded for some time, as there was a rush to find a replacement. Eventually, the only one who was brave enough for the job was Sir Cardigan- that crazy knight near the divination tower.

This did not inspire much confidence in their security.

Harry had felt the teachers’ eyes glued to him- obviously wanting to protect him. Thankfully, they hadn’t glued themselves to him- he had another protector. After the break-in, Bella was glued to Harry’s side, usually holding one of his arms between her breasts as she escorted him. That last part made it more manageable, in Harry’s teenage mind.

The weather seemed to follow the mood of the students- that is, it was getting worse and worse by the day. As for Wood? He was bordering on obsessive regarding talking to the team- even following them to classes. At one point, it got so bad that Harry was running ten minutes late for Defense lessons, so he just sprinted off away from Wood, which caused the Captain to run after him. Harry raced to the classroom, and threw open the door.

“One point for each minute you were late, Mr. Potter,” Professor Snape deadpanned. “I do know you’re fond of the class, so I am positive it won’t happen again.” Harry was just blinking in shock.

“W-where’s Professor Lupin?” Harry got out.

“He is a bit… under the weather today,” Snape told him. “Ever since Halloween, in fact.” Harry’s eyes widened a slight fraction, which caused Snape’s eyebrows to raise slightly. It was just then that Wood caught up.

“Harry, you can’t just run like that-” he began, before Snape cleared his throat.

“Worried about the game tomorrow, Oliver?” Snape inquired.

“S-sorry, Professor-”

“Worried enough to keep your Seeker from attending class?”

“N-no, Professor-”

“Unless you think that someone plots to throw him off of his broom with a chant, or send a rogue bludeger after him, then I would strongly suggest you leave,” Snape growled. Oliver turned tail and ran off. Snape rolled his eyes. “Quidditch fiends,” he grumbled.

“You’re getting that, too, sir?” Harry asked.

“Flint has been trying to get me to let Mr. Malfoy cut classes for extra practice,” Snape replied. “Including this one.” Sure enough, the class was Double Gryffindor-Slytherin. “Now take your seat,” Snape instructed. Harry nodded, and did so. Everyone knew that Snape had wanted to teach Defense for years- so it was obvious that Lupin knew that he had a substitute if needed. Daphne was next to him.

“Is he doing okay?” he asked her.

“Not really… it’s been a hard week or so… he didn’t have that much time to recover…” she let that slide, as Snape viewed the class.

“Turn to page three hundred and ninety four,” Snape drawled.

There was a pause.

“Sir? We’re nowhere near-” Hermione began.

“Miss Granger, I know what I said,” Snape replied. “I am aware of where you are.”

“Then why-”

Snape gave her a look. “Turn to page three hundred and ninety four, Miss Granger. I assume you have read it already.” By now, most of the students had turned to that page.

“Werewolves?” Pansy asked.

“Yes, Miss Parkinson. Werewolves,” Snape replied evenly. “After reading through the atrocious rants that many of you called research at the start of term, it is obvious that few of you know much about them, aside from a few bed-time stories. For example, many of you were of the illusion that werewolves can transform on command.”

“I told you Twilight was wrong!” Harry heard one of the Muggle-Borns whisper to another student.

“Ten points from Gryffindor on account of the Weasley Twins,” Snape replied, eye twitching. There weren’t any complaints there. “No, werewolves cannot transform on command. Nor can they summon an army of wolves.” Snape then leaned against the table, sucking in a deep breath. “Nor do they have Alpha-beta-omega dynamics.” The words came out like they were buried in syrup. “And a further twenty points from Gryffindor on account of the Weasley Twins.”

“They can’t be that bad-” Ron began.

“Detention, Weasley.” Ron blinked in confusion. “You will share my misery. Moving on… Miss Granger, since you have no doubt read the text already, tell the class what a werewolf can and cannot do. Spare no detail.” Snape then sat back in a chair, as Hermione’s mouth opened. After another thirty minutes, Snape raised a hand. “Five points f- to Gryffindor for each fact you got right,” Snape replied, catching the near slip. “Now, what wasn’t covered in the textbooks was how werewolves act outside the full moon.” The entire class glanced at Daphne. “Outside the full moon, there have been few noticeable effects. The most obvious one is a stronger preference for meat following the affliction. Even those who were opposed to the act of eating meat will forsake those values after the bite. Additionally, mutton tends to be a much more preferred meal. But other than that, and a preference for rare or medium rare cooking, there have been little to no effects documented physically during the periods between moons. However, there is a period of exhaustion following the moon, as the transformation is, I have been told, quite taxing. Miss Greengrass?” Daphne had her hand up.

“It… it is, sir,” she admitted.

“I believe that there hasn’t been much said on the transformation’s effects from a lycanthrope’s point of view. Would you like to explain?”

“Raise your hand if you’ve broken a bone,” she said. Many hands came up. “Imagine that pain. Now imagine it occurring on every bone at least once.” There were winces from the Gryffindors… and even some of the Slytherins. “It’s… it’s like a fire… the very fires of hell burning your nerves… feeling every muscle, bone, and tendon twist, snap, and regrow…” she shivered. “Wolfsbane… makes it better. It’s like putting on a coat… much more bearable.”

“I see. Thank you for your time. As for the rest of you, I want at least two feet of parchment, but no more then four, Miss Granger!” Snape instructed, which caused Hermione’s ears to lay flat, “On the subject of when, exactly, werewolves are dangerous, and the appropriate steps on how to avoid that danger. Dismissed… save for you, Weasly. Your detention begins… now.”

“But lunch-” Ron began.

“I assure you, Mr. Weasley, were I to give you this detention after dinner, there would not be a clean speck of floor. I am doing you a favor.”

*****

Ron was green the whole rest of the day, and refused to say about what… though he did shudder when one of the Gryffindors mentioned sailor’s knots.

Chapter 24

Chapter by ColdLuigi

Before long, it was the day of the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff.  To say Oliver Wood had been nervous in the last week before the match would be a colossal understatement. He’d been holding practices every single day; Bella and Hermione had barely seen their boyfriend all week.  Not content with merely drilling them into exhaustion, Wood had asked Harry if he knew any monster girls he could convince to sub in for Gryffindor. 

 

(Bella had laughed at that one when Harry told her about it. “If there were any harpies around, they would love to help!” she’d said. “Unfortunately, I don’t think there’s many left in Britain these days. It’s a shame. They always were lovely to play with.”  Harry…had decided against asking what Bella meant by play.)

 

Bella, of course, had no such compunctions. As Harry left breakfast in the Great Hall to go suit up, she slithered close to Hermione.  “Are you not going to give him a good luck kiss?” she hissed.  

 

Hermione flushed. “W-why would I do that?” she muttered back, ears flicking nervously.  “Luck isn’t something I can improve just by kissing him!”

 

Bella’s tongue flashed between her teeth. “Maybe not,” she admitted, “But are you saying you don’t want to kiss him?”

 

Hermione blinked. “That…is a good point,” she admitted. “So do I just…”  Bella grabbed Hermione by the shoulders and pointed her at where Harry was about to vanish out the doors. Then, she laid a vicious smack across Hermione’s rear, making the catgirl yelp loudly.

 

“Get over there and kiss your boyfriend!” the lamia ordered. Hermione blushed and obeyed, racing to catch up with Harry.

 

She reached him just as he slipped outside the doors, away from the crowds. “H-Hey, Harry!” she called.

 

Harry turned. “Hermione?” he asked. “What’s up?”  Hermione moved before she could second-guess herself. She wrapped her arms around Harry, pulled him tight, and pressed her lips to his. Harry looked shocked for a second, but quickly kissed her back.

 

Hermione’s cheeks were burning as she pulled away again, but she still managed to say, “Good luck in the game!”

 

Harry looked at her, stunned. “Uh, thanks?” he said. “I love you, Hermione.”

 

She beamed. “I love you too,” she said fondly, before finally letting him go.

 

Hermione nearly skipped back to the Gryffindor table. As she took her seat next to Bella, the lamia gave her an approving nod.

 

“Ssssee?” she asked, forked tongue flickering again just for a moment. “Kissing your boyfriend is fun!”

 

Hermione blushed again. “I was being a little bit too uptight there, wasn’t I?” she asked sheepishly.

 

Bella chuckled. “A little,” she agreed. “But don’t worry! That’s why I’m here, to help you loosen up! Not that Harry doesn’t appreciate your tightness, I’m sure.”

 

Hermione choked on her bacon. Beside her, Daphne did too.

 

Incredibly, the only one of them not coughing up their lungs as they tried to recover from Bella’s innuendo was Ron, who had actually been finishing a bite instead of inhaling food for once. As a result, he got a chance to look over at the two girls and raise an eyebrow.

 

“And here I thought my relationship was complicated,” he said dryly.

 

Hermione had to laugh at that. To be sure, she still didn’t quite believe sometimes that Ron Weasley had a wife, but frankly, she quite liked Ari. The drider was funny, kind, had a good head on her shoulders, and wasn’t afraid to show her fangs when necessary. Plus, she’d somehow done the impossible and gotten Ron to be responsible. Or at least, more responsible; being married had seriously made him grow up, it seemed.

 

That being said…Hermione glanced up and down the table, finally noticing something.

“Where is your wife, anyway?” she asked. Ari was normally always with them at breakfast. But now, she was nowhere to be seen.

 

Bella smirked. “I bet she’s still in bed,” she said teasingly. “You must’ve really fucked her good last night, Ron.”

 

That finally made Ron choke on his food, coughing furiously as he tried to stammer denials and clear his windpipe at the same time. Finally, he managed to say, “Oh, uh, no, she got a message earlier. Apparently Diana asked her to come out to the Forbidden Forest to talk about something. Ari didn’t say what.”

 

Daphne and Hermione nodded along, but Bella had different ideas.

 

“Mmm,” she hummed. “I wonder—does she know that Diana wants to fuck you?”

 

That made Ron’s face turn the same color as his hair and promptly lose the ability to speak. Hermione, meanwhile, just glared at Bella, receiving little more than an unapologetic smirk in response. Seriously, the lamia was a menace today.

 

“What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?” Hermione muttered. 

 

Bella’s tongue flicked out again, her eyes shining mischievously. “Oh, nothing,” she said coyly. “I’m just looking forward to the match. Tell me, do people still die playing Quidditch?”

 

Daphne blinked. “Uh…no?” she said, obviously confused by the question.

 

“The closest thing to that is the referee’s broom being turned into a portkey,” Ron added.

 

Bella frowned. “Huh. Shame,” she muttered. 

 

*****

 

After breakfast was finished, the four of them headed down to the Quidditch pitch for the match. On the way, though, a familiar hooded figure appeared on the path, making everyone else steer clear with uneasy looks on their faces.

 

“Hey, Diana,” Ron said casually, apparently managing to ignore Bella’s comment from earlier. “How’s it going?”

 

The Dementor shrugged off her hood, revealing her shimmering white hair and ghostly pale face, beaming and pleasant as usual. “Oh, I’m great,” she said happily. “Especially with how awesome the weather is!”

 

Ron glanced up at the sky. The clouds hung heavy and low, a steady rain already falling. In the distance, thunder rumbled ominously. Seeing the gesture, Diana chuckled.  “I’m a creature of darkness and despair, Ronnie,” she said. “You’re surprised I like it dreary and depressing?”

 

Ron raised an eyebrow. “Ronnie?” he repeated. 

 

Diana’s unsettling lips curled outwards into a smile. “Yep, you’ve got a nickname now,” she said cheerily. “Deal with it.”

 

Ron, quite good at avoiding conflict with so many older brothers, simply shrugged and moved on. They were still making their way towards the pitch as he asked, “Say, have you seen my wife anywhere?”

 

Diana nodded easily. “Oh, yeah, we had a great talk earlier,” she replied. “So great, in fact, that we wanted to talk to you about something too! Out of the way, where there’s no chance of us being seen or overheard! Mind coming with me?”

 

Ron glanced back at Hermione, Daphne and Bella. “Uh…can it wait until after the match?” he asked.

 

Diana shrugged. “I mean, it could,” she admitted.  “But I don’t really want to wait until after the match. I’m impatient like that. Now come on!”  With that, she snatched Ron by the arm, and led him away. Ron didn’t seem particularly inclined to protest; it seemed he’d, correctly, decided that the best way to handle Diana was to go along with her impulses.

 

That left Bella, Hermione, and Daphne exchanging confused glances with each other on the path towards the Quidditch pitch. Even as they watched, Diana dragged Ron off towards the small collection of sheds behind the pitch, well away from any bystanders.  Daphne was the first to recover. “Well,” she declared, “that was…ominous.”

 

Hermione snorted. “She is a Dementor,” she pointed out, whiskers twitching. “Ominous probably comes naturally to her.”

 

Bella laughed. “That is true,” she agreed, “but somehow, I don’t think she means Ron any particular harm.”

 

Daphne raised an eyebrow. “How do you know?” she asked, a little fragment of old Slytherin paranoia cropping up.

 

Bella crossed her arms over her chest. “Call it…women’s intuition,” she hissed, tongue flicking delightedly. “Now, come on, let’s hurry. I don’t want to miss the game!”

 

Taking Bella’s advice, the girls continued onwards towards the pitch, only mildly concerned about the fate of Ron Weasley.

 

*****

 

Ron grunted as his back hit the wood of the small storage shed behind the Quidditch pitch, propelled there by Diana’s slight but strong arms against his shoulders.  “Diana?” he asked, confused. 

 

The tall, slim girl grinned back at him, her multi-part lips curling outwards into a grin. Odd, how such an unsettling mouth—the gateway to Hell itself, according to some of the books Hermione had found—produced such a sweet voice.

 

“How’s it going, Ronnie?” she asked. Her feet, emerging from beneath the cloak and the foggy haze that always seemed to accompany her, were actually touching the ground for once. As Ron watched, she reached towards the clasp around her neck, and her raggedy outer garment dropped away, revealing that beneath it, she was wearing very form-fitting clothes, much like a bodysuit.

 

He gulped. “What are you doing?” he asked.

 

Diana cocked her head, one eyebrow arched. “I’d thought it was pretty obvious,” she said. As if to prove a point, she ran a hand down his chest, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Look, Ronnie, you’re a smart guy, so I’ll keep this short: you’re cute, and I want to fuck ya.”

 

Ron blinked. “Uh,” he began. “You, um, know that’s a little bit sudden, right? We’ve known each other like a few weeks—“

 

Diana shrugged; she was taller than Ron, and so the roll of her shoulders gave him a great view of her slim, almost bony body. “I mean, if you’re not down, that’s cool,” she said, “but like…I’m just here for a bit of fun, y’know? There aren’t exactly many cute guys my age in Azkaban, so I’ve been having a serious dry spell. And you’re funny, and cute, and I really do like you. So…whaddya say?”

 

Ron blinked. In any other situation, he’d have been nodding immediately—Diana was hot, and he was very much a teenage boy—but he immediately thought of Ari.  “Look, I’m not saying I’m not interested,” he began, “but I do kinda have to run this by my wife first—“

 

Diana’s eyes sparkled, but it wasn’t her that spoke. “How convenient, then,” a husky, familiar voice punctuated by buzzing mandibles replied, “That she and I are already quite far ahead of you, husband.”

 

Ron jumped—not that he went anywhere, with Diana’s body pressed against his and her unnatural strength pinning him down. He turned his head to find Ari in her mostly-human form leaning against the corner of the shed, eight eyes glimmering with amusement.

 

“Hello, love,” Ron said awkwardly. “Did you—“

 

Ari chuckled. “Oh, please,” she said. “Don’t stop on my account. Diana invited me here, you know.”

 

Ron blinked, turning back to the dementor girl, who nodded, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I did think this through, y’know,” she teased. “I figured that asking you if you were down for some casual fun without runnin’ it by your pretty spider wife would be bad manners.”

 

Ron nodded, because yeah, that seemed fair enough. Ari, for her part, just chuckled.  “As I’m sure you’ve guessed by now, I was quite happy to give her my permission, husband,” she said smugly, still leaning against the wall. “On one condition, that is.”

 

Ron frowned. “What condition?”

 

Ari’s eight pitch-black eyes gleamed, and she bared her fangs in a grin. “That I get to watch,” she declared with relish.

 

As Ron’s eyes widened, Diana’s narrowed with glee. “I knew I liked you, girl,” she told Ari.

 

Ari continued grinning. “That feeling is quite mutual,” she assured Diana.

 

Diana tilted her head. “You know, my offer is still on the table,” she said mildly. “You could do a little more than watch if you really wanted to.”

 

Ron shuddered, just thinking of what the two girls could do to him if they joined forces. Ari, though, just hummed to herself.

 

“Not today, I think,” she mused. “But if that offer remains open…I would not be opposed in the future.”

 

Diana laughed. “Well, consider that offer in fact open, then,” she said before turning back to Ron. “So, hot stuff, you down?”

 

Ron blinked. “Uh…yes?” he said slowly. “Diana, are you—“

 

Diana put a long, skeletal finger to his lips. “Hey, before you get into whatever you were gonna say, I do have something important to tell you,” she said slowly, her expression growing grave and serious, leechlike mouth twisting. “While we’re doing this, don’t kiss me. Like, seriously, do not kiss me.”

 

Something on Ron’s face must have required more explanation, because Diana sighed, and continued, “I assume you know about the Dementor’s Kiss?” she said, to which Ron nodded. “Yeah, well, I can’t turn that off. Dementors, we feed on souls. We hunger for them. Technically I’m always draining a little from people while I’m around, so little you don’t really notice, but actually Kissing somebody…for us, it’s the most delicious and filling meal we can have. And if you get all worked up and kiss me, I can’t not suck your soul out. Even if it wasn’t automatic at that point…I’d be too tempted by the warmth to stop. If you even get close to kissing me, I might get too worked up to stop…because even though I’ll basically kill you if I do, I really, really wanna kiss you, Ronnie. And what I want to suck…well, it ain’t just your soul.”

 

Ron took a few moments to process all of that. Pieces clicked together on his mind, and he blurted out, “Is that why you’re so okay with Ari being here? As, like, a watchdog?”

 

Diana nodded. “I was gonna ask her if she didn’t ask,” she replied, sounding weaker, more vulnerable, than Ron had ever heard her. “I wanted someone to keep an eye on us, to make sure I don’t get carried away. I just…I don’t trust myself. I can’t trust myself. Even now, part of me wants to take those lips for myself and drain you dry, Ron…and another part wants to do the same thing, but give you a real kiss, because I do like you. A lot. But it doesn’t matter, because if I do…”

 

Diana looked away, and Ron was struck again by how timid she’d suddenly become, how she was hesitating and scared, right on the precipice of what she wanted.  “Hey,” he murmured, resting a hand on her shoulder, her body seeming to soak up the warmth. “We’ll figure this out, okay? Together.”

 

Diana brightened at that. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Together.”

 

She pressed closer to him—her cheek against his, that deadly mouth of hers facing away—and her body touched him, her slim figure feeling like it was leeching the heat from his core. But it was fine; he had plenty to give, and the sensation of her small bust and rounded hips against him was generating plenty more.

 

Diana groaned, ever so slightly, as Ron’s free hand rubbed down her back. “I will say, though,” she said after a minute, sounding much more like her usual self, “So long as I don’t kiss you on the lips, I can put my mouth wherever I want on you. And let’s just say that…well, Dementors are very good at sucking. You wanna find out what it feels like?”

 

Ron did, very much. And it didn’t take long for Diana to shuck off their clothes and start showing him.

 

As it turned out, she wasn’t lying. By the end of it, he certainly felt like he’d had his soul sucked out.  He didn’t even mind the rain.

 

*****

 

Harry felt like he probably could have watered Aunt Petunia’s entire garden just with the water that was on him at any given second.  “There’s no way I’ll be able to see anything like this…” he muttered.  Fred and George looked at each other.

 

“Hey, Harry… mind if we have your glasses for a moment?” Fred asked.  Harry, confused, handed them to him.

 

“Impervius!” Fred exclaimed, before handing them back to Harry.  “Now that should do it- they’ll repel water.”

 

“Is… is that cheating?”

 

“Actually no- one of the rules is that you’re allowed to use that spell in foul weather… speaking of… Impervius!  Impervius!”  George exclaimed, clearing his face, and his twins’ face.

 

“Why not the rest of the team?”

 

“Then the Puffs will get the idea,” Fred whispered to Harry, as the teams approached one another.  Wood looked like he had lockjaw, as he shook Cedric’s hand.  Cedric just grinned.  “Sorry that our match was delayed a couple of months,” he said jokingly, as their hands came apart.  At least, Harry thought he said that- the sound of thunder and the wind was making it so that he was mostly reading lips.  Madam Hooch blew her whistle- again, he assumed she did- and the game began.  To say that it was chaotic was an understatement.  He, Fred, and George were the only ones who could see past the end of their own brooms, from the looks of it.  And even then, they could only see a little bit further.  In the middle of the pitch, it was like he was alone in a void- the stands were completely invisible to him.  Only the occasional flash of lightning illuminated the world, and that was only for a moment.  During one of those moments, however, he saw Cedric chasing something.  Something golden.  With a jolt, he realized that Cedric had seen the snitch!  He tilted his broom forwards, and raced towards it.  Cedric must’ve noticed his approach, so he redoubled his efforts.  They were neck and neck, inching ever closer, both barely paying attention to the field.

 

And then the dementors appeared.  Both of them swerved away.  Cedric got clear.  Harry wasn’t so lucky.  He began hearing the screams of a woman again, and saw dozens- no, hundreds- of dementors descending upon the grounds.  There were other, fainter screams, as the blackness overtook him.

 

*****

 

Diana rose with a jolt from her position spooning with Ron.

 

“Something’s wrong,” she hissed in a voice darker than usual.

 

Ron and Ari were slower to rise; they, too, were cuddled up in the warm, dry space in an unused shed behind the Quidditch pitch, still enjoying the quiet aftermath of their…encounter.

 

And what an encounter it had been. Ron may have had a little bit of experience now, thanks to Ari, but he had still not been ready for how enthusiastically aggressive Diana had been. The Dementor girl had, quite literally, drained him dry. Repeatedly.

 

At least she’d happily cuddled up against him once she’d had her fill, though. Funny, for a terrifying creature of despair and darkness, she was quite cute as she slept, her elfin features wrinkled and her slender body, so different from Ari’s generous curves, slotting perfectly against him.

 

He was still kind of shocked by how okay Ari was with all of this. She’d… visibly enjoyed watching as Diana and Ron went at each other, and she’d cuddled right up with the two of them, her face pressed into her husband’s back and a smile on her lips.

 

She wasn’t smiling now, though. Instead, she looked concerned as her eight eyes blinked and refocused on Diana, who’d already bolted upright.

 

“What’s wrong?” she asked in a low, serious voice.

 

When Diana turned to look at them, Ron nearly jumped. Whatever she was at the moment, it was decidedly not the peppy girl she’d been just a minute ago.

 

Her eyes were the same bone-white iridescent color as her hair, smoldering with rage, her mouth open in a shape that would have bared her canine teeth, had she any to bare. Instead, the faintest hint of an unearthly glow was visible in the back of her inhuman throat; Ron recalled Hermione’s words about dementor mouths being portals to Hell, and found himself gulping.

 

Worst of all, though, was that there was a crown on her head. A thing of gold and bone, wound through her hair, the tines rising up as if they were embedded in her very skull.

 

Diana looked at them, and her eyes were deadly serious. 

 

“Those fuckers,” she growled. “They’ll pay for this. You two, stay here. I’ve got some bastards to punish.”

 

Lightning struck, and when Ron could see again, Diana had vanished, as if she was never there.

 

*****

 

The crowd that had been roaring in approval just a few minutes ago was now stunned into utter silence.

 

Near the center of the arena, a limp figure in Quidditch robes lay unmoving, sprawled across the sodden earth. Even through the pouring rain and the thunder and the roaring lightning, they could make him out.

 

They could make out the monsters floating towards him, too. Hundreds of them, robed and hooded, made of darkness and despair. The screams of the damned followed them as they filled the arena, sinking down towards the unmoving boy.

 

Nobody moved, rooted to their seats by fear and agony, the combined presence of nearly every dementor in existence sending turning the bravest into sobbing wrecks. The few who could muster the strength to fight through the world-numbing fear and sorrow were too far away, trapped in the upper decks of the stands by the rigid, frozen crowd.

 

The first dementor reached the fallen boy. It knelt, its long, bony fingers reaching for the hood of its robe–

 

Lightning struck again. When the searing afterimage faded, an even more terrifying monster had appeared as if from thin air in the pouring rain.

 

There was really no better way to describe it; one moment, the dementors were looming over the fallen body of Harry Potter, no opposition in sight. The next, the lightning turned the world a brilliant, blinding white, and when it faded, the Queen Of The Dark stood over him.

 

She was six feet tall, thin and willowy, with eyes that echoed the lightning in their overwhelming brilliance. Her bone-white hair shimmered with multicolored light, flowing and wavy, the pouring rain passing right through it like smoke. Her hood was down, and as lightning struck again, all could see the crown jutting up through her hair, made of her own bone, growing up from her skull in a circlet of bladed spikes that burned off like flares at the end, fading away to nothing as they flowed backwards, totally ignorant of the howling rain and whipping wind.

 

In a voice like the winds of Hell, in the language once spoken by Death Himself, she said, “Kneel, or die.”

 

The reaction was instant. Every dementor hurled itself at the ground, a wave rippling outwards from the one that had been about to feast on Harry Potter’s soul. Within seconds, hundreds of dark hoods were bowing so low they kissed the sodden earth, their bony hands digging into the mud, their bodies rigid with what could only be fear. Even these, the creatures of Azkaban itself, were no match for that terrible crown of bone.

 

The terrible figure—so like a Dementor, and yet so much more— showed only anger on her face, despite the swift and total compliance of her subjects.

 

“You have violated the accords,” she hissed, the words unheard by all those watching. “You break my word. You shame me before the world. Why?”

 

At last, the dementor at the very head of the pack, the one still mere inches from Harry Potter, summoned up the courage to speak.

 

“We are hungry, Your Grace!” it cried. “We lurk in the forest, sensing all these humans, and being denied even the slightest taste of their despair—”

 

“You are denied,” the looming figure snarled, “By my command. Do you imagine yourself above my rule? Do you believe you can ignore the commands of the Crown?”

 

Most of the dementors were trembling with terror by now, their hooded heads pressed firmly into the dirt. But the one who had already spoken was braver—or perhaps just more foolish—than most of its kind.

 

It spoke again. “I would never dream of such a thing, Your Grace,” it answered. “But your mother—”

 

The dementor died in an instant. The standing figure vanished as another bolt of lightning came down, and when the light had faded again, the dementor was limply clutched in the grasp of the crowned woman’s bony fingers, head thrown back in a wordless scream. The creature of darkness and despair howled as it died, its body shriveling away to nothing before dissolving in the wind, the cloak that had once concealed it smoldering even in the pounding rain.

 

There was no more trembling from the bowing dementors. There was only the waiting. The exhaled anticipation, the bracing for oblivion. They accepted their deaths, considered them inevitable, even reasonable. They had, in their weakness, disobeyed the only law of their species. Disobedience was death, and death was a constant companion to the dementors. Perhaps they even welcomed it.

 

“My mother is dead!” the bone-crowned girl howled into the storm. “I am Queen of the Dementors now. Not her. And I command you to leave, before I send each and every one of you to walk the Shadowlands!”

 

The dementors needed no further commands. They obeyed instantly, vanishing into the storm in blurs of smoke and wind. In a fraction of a second, the Queen of Terror stood alone in the center of the field, save for Harry Potter’s limp form.

 

And then, at last, another figure approached. He, too, was entirely dry, his robes passing over the mud with no issue. His long white beard made him look grandfatherly; the wand of elder in his hand made him the most intimidating wizard alive.

 

The Queen showed no fear as she turned to face him, however. She merely inclined her head.

 

“Headmaster,” she said, in a human tongue this time, the words of death no longer howling in her throat. “I am deeply sorry for what has happened today. I take the blame. I should have been keeping a tighter rein on my subjects.”

 

Albus Dumbledore stroked a hand through his beard. “Your apology is accepted, Queen Diana,” he said gently. “But I feel you’ve done more than enough today. We will discuss how to prevent a…repeat…later. For now, I believe I should take young Harry there up to the infirmary.”

 

With that, he stepped past Diana, and raised that wand that stank of Death. Diana watched Harry rise from the earth, and follow Dumbledore away.

 

She finally relaxed, ever so slightly—though she still found that the glamor that usually obscured her bony crown, an intrinsic part of her body that had sprouted from her skull (painfully) the day her mother had died, still wasn’t working.

 

Worse, there was a familiar mop of red hair at the edge of the field, coming towards her, a dark-haired girl at his side.

 

Diana tried to force a smile onto her inhuman, soul-sucking lips. It didn’t work. She tried to tell herself that the water running down her cheeks was from the rain, that the tremble in her hands was from the cold. She knew it wasn’t.

 

She glanced down at her pale, bony hands, then at the still-smoking robe that had once been Lament, a dementor she’d known since she was a little girl.

 

She couldn’t blame them. She knew the hunger as well as any Dementor did–knew how hard it was to fight. Even she was always on the brink of giving into it–she’d barely held back the urge to feast while… engaged with Ron earlier. She knew that Lament–that all of the dementors–were only so strong. Hunger could drive them wild.

 

But she had had to kill Lament, for disobeying her. For trying to use the memory of her mother against her.

 

Right?

 

A pained smile twisted her eyes. “It couldn’t last forever, right?” she murmured to herself as she rose up to her full height. “Be grateful for what you had, Diana. Even just for a moment. Time to face the music.”

 

She turned, and didn’t look back. She owed it to Ron to look him in the eye and see the horror on his face. She was Queen of the Dementors. She would not run.

 

*****

 

Ron had figured Diana wasn’t a normal dementor.  That much had been obvious.  She had easily been able to bypass the barriers, and was… well… more human.

 

He had not expected THAT particular revelation.

 

“Queen?” he whispered to Ari.

 

Ari nodded slowly, her eight beady eyes dark and inscrutable. “Mmm,” she hummed. “I knew they had one, but nobody knows much about dementors. I thought their queen was supposed to be significantly older…”

 

Before Ron could ask more questions, though, Diana stepped forwards. She was a far cry from the sweet, funny, refreshingly blunt woman who had, to be crude, just fucked Ron silly behind the bleachers. This was the Queen of the Dementors in all her glory, a six-foot tall spectral, semi-corporeal force of madness, sorrow and despair, with a mouth like a portal into Hell and a crown of ghostly, flaming bone wound through her iridescent hair. Her legs didn’t quite touch the ground, fuzzing away into smoke just below her shins, and her cloak continued to blow backwards, against the direction of the gale-force wind rather than with it.

 

And she was looking at him with fear in her eyes.

 

Ari was the first to speak, stepping up beside her husband. “Your Highness,” she said, in a cool, polite voice that bordered on icy. “You’ve been keeping secrets, it seems.”

 

Diana’s eyes looked even more pained at that. “Yes,” she admitted. “I…I wanted to know what it felt like to have friends, for once. I wanted to live, and not just be…well, “Your Highness.”

 

Ari raised an eyebrow. “And why us?” she asked, before gesturing at Ron. “Why him?”

 

Diana hung her head. “Because…you were good to me,” she said quietly. “Because he saw a girl that should have scared him, and was kind to her instead. Because he’s the first person I’ve ever thought actually cared about me for me.”

 

Ari was silent for a moment. Then, her expression softened, slightly. “I wish you’d told me, before,” she said.

 

Diana nodded. “I’m sorry,” she answered. “I should’ve come clean. But…I didn’t want to be Your Highness. I think you can understand, Princess Ariana.”

 

Ari’s expression shifted again, and Ron got the distinct impression that she did understand, if only distantly. Perhaps there was a gap between the One Hundred and Twenty-Seventh Acromantula Princess and the Queen of the Dementors—a title that gave the somber impression that Diana had inherited her throne young and alone—but they were both still royalty. They both still felt the same pressures.

 

Ari stepped backwards again. “You don’t have to hide from us, Diana,” she said.

 

Diana looked like she wanted to believe that, but something held her back. Slowly, she shifted her baleful, searing gaze to Ron.

 

She looked him in the eye. She waited for his answer, accepted his judgment.

 

She was a terrifying creature born to feed on human misery and rip their souls from their bodies. She was six feet of skeletal haze and ghostly hatred, with a mouth that could kill if it ever met his. She’d just ruthlessly executed one of her own in front of a stadium full of people.

 

A normal wizard would have fled.  A normal wizard would have fired off a patronus.

 

Ron wasn’t a normal wizard.

 

He reached out, and took her hand.

 

“I…wish you’d told me earlier too,” he admitted. “But I get why you didn’t. You don’t have to hide from us, Diana.”

 

Diana froze, as if it was the first time she’d received affirmation and love in her entire life. For all he knew, it was.

 

When she spoke again, it wasn’t the formal, ethereal voice of the Queen of Despair. It was the girl who’d found her way into his heart with cheerful directness and earnest, tender kindness.

 

“You’re makin’ it real hard not to kiss ya, Ronnie,” she muttered.

 

Ron blinked. “Uh, thanks,” he said. “I…kinda like my soul where it is, so…”

 

Diana just snorted. “Relax, I ain’t gonna eat ya,” she said, drawing closer to wrap her arms around him in a chilly, ghostly hug. “But…thank you, Ron. For everything.”

 

Ari came to join the hug, her arms extending around both Ron and Ari from behind, her head against Ron’s neck just as Diana’s rested chin-first on his own head, and for a moment, all was perfect, even in the pouring rain.

 

And then Ron coughed slightly, as a question popped into his head.

 

“Uh, one other thing, actually,” he said sheepishly.

 

Diana smiled weakly as she pulled away from him again. “Yes?”

 

Ron rubbed the back of his head. “Am I, like, catnip for royalty or something?” he asked.

 

“...What?”

 

“I mean… Ari’s a Princess, you’re a queen…” Ron just looked at Diana, “I’ve had more intimate encounters with nobles than a storybook king, so I’m just curious if it’s me, or if I just got lucky.”

 

For a moment, Diana and Ari were totally silent, sharing a look in their eye that Ron couldn’t read. Then, their lips peeled back in bizarre, unsettling imitations of each other—one a set of spidery mandibles gleaming with fangs, the other a twisting, folding hole in reality, a portal to Hell itself.

 

“Well, I don’t know about you being catnip…” Ari began, mouthparts buzzing.

“But if you keep at it, you’ll most certainly keep getting lucky,” Diana finished with a wink. “If you know what I mean.”

Chapter 25

Chapter by ColdLuigi

Harry awoke to find that, to his surprise, he wasn’t in the hospital wing.

 

Instead, he was staring at the red-draped posts of his own bed. Judging by the lack of agonizing pain in his limbs, he’d been healed.

 

Even then, though, he couldn’t seem to move his arms. It was like there were large, soft, heavy weights pinning him down.

 

A second later, one of those weights moved.

 

Harry jolted, and two heads shot up, one on either side of him. Hermione’s bushy hair and cat ears were unmistakable, while Bella’s long, straight red hair blended eerily well into the color of the bedsheets and the closed curtains around the bed–curtains that, Harry recalled, came with a silencing charm.

 

Harry took a second to try and gather his thoughts, while Hermione and Bella clutched him tighter. “So,” he finally croaked. “Guess I’m not dead?”

 

Hermione didn’t laugh. “No,” she agreed. “But you gave us a heart attack, Harry! When we saw you fall–”

 

She fell silent, burying her face in Harry’s chest, whiskers twitching against his chest. Her tail lashed back and forth, and he could only fold his arm around her and draw her tight.  He turned again, not sure what to say, only to find himself staring directly into Bella’s yellow, reptilian eyes.

 

“Hermione is right,” she said softly. “You scared us greatly, Harry.”

 

Harry nodded. “Sorry,” he said. “I really didn’t mean to. Did…did Diana do something? I thought I saw her.”

Hermione and Bella exchanged a glance. Hermione said, “Yeah, she saved you. Turns out she’s Queen of the Dementors.”

 

Harry blinked. Briefly, he wondered if just going back to sleep was an option. “Uh…okay then,” he said, deciding to not think about that too hard, for the sake of his own sanity. “Why am I here, and not in the hospital wing?”

 

Bella snorted, her forked tongue flicking into the air. “Madam Pomfrey and I had a discussion,” she said ominously.

 

Hermione’s ear flicked. “You know that makes it sound like you threatened her, right?” she told Bella.

 

Bella just grinned. “I would have, if necessary,” she answered. “Luckily, she was quite agreeable. She told me to, and I quote, “Get that boy out of here, and strap him to the bed if you need to.”

 

Harry and Hermione went still. Hermione’s reflective cat eyes narrowed . “She didn’t actually say that,” she accused. “You’re making that up.”

 

Bella rose up onto her tail, coiling comfortably around both Harry and Hermione. Her coils were powerful and thick, though they could be remarkably gentle, too.

 

“Are you going to go ask her?” she asked teasingly. “Or are you going to do what we discussed, Hermione?”

 

Hermione went very, very pale. Harry looked at her, worried, as she visibly hesitated.

 

“R-right now?” she asked nervously. 

 

Bella nodded. “We are in his bed, and he is forbidden to leave it for the night,” she pointed out. “We just saw him nearly die, and I can tell that you are both relieved he is alright and remembering how often this man you love is in danger. I can think of no better time to give him ourselves. Can you?”

 

Hermione fell silent. Harry, still not really sure what was going on, asked, “Uh…what’re you talking about?”

Bella turned to look at him, and Harry found himself remembering that snakes were predators. She was looking at him like a particularly tasty morsel–him and Hermione, actually.

 

By way of a response, she simply said, “Allow me to show you, yes?”  Before Harry could say a word, Bella’s coils lunged. Not at him. At Hermione.

 

The catgirl yelped as Bella’s coils and hands dragged her up off the bed, flipped her over, and brought her down atop Harry, making her straddle him, legs parted directly over his hips.

 

Harry’s eyes widened as Bella pushed Hermione’s hips down, making her grind against him. “B-Bella?” he groaned.

 

Bella’s eyes seemed to glow as she leaned down to look at him, her gaze full of greedy lust. 

“Is it obvious yet, Harry?” she whispered, still toying with Hermione for him to watch. “What it is we want?”

 

Harry stared at her, his brain struggling to work. “I…I don’t know?” he said.

 

Bella raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know?” she repeated dryly. “That is a terrible answer, Harry. Either you do want to fuck us, or you don’t. Either is acceptable, so long as you communicate it. Say so, and I will stop, pull Hermione off you, and say no more. But if you wish to continue…you’ll get to play with these.”

 

Straightening back up, her hands went for Hermione’s jumper, yanking it up in a swift, sharp motion. Hermione gasped sharply as her breasts dropped free, perfect and perky and big in the dark, still space. Her voice became a moan as Bella’s fingers found her tits and squeezed, nails scraping at her nipples.

 

Harry couldn’t look away from the sight of Hermione, the smartest, bossiest girl he knew, being toyed with by Bella. He almost said yes on the spot, just to find out what else the ancient basilisk had planned for her two mates. But first, he looked Hermione in the eye.  “You…okay with this?” he asked slowly, despite the blood already flowing between his legs.  Hermione bit her lip as Bella’s groping intensified, her fangs pressing into the skin. Still, she managed to return Harry’s gaze, hooded and heavy and full of lust in a way he’d never seen before.

 

“Mmmm…” she said, still a little hesitant, but not willing to back down now that she’d committed herself. “Yes, Harry. Yes, I want this.”

That was all Harry needed to hear. He looked back at Bella, and with his heart pounding in his chest, said, “Okay. Can you…lead? I don’t know if either of us are comfortable taking charge right now.”

Bella grinned, baring sharp, needlelike teeth. Her tongue flicked between them as she visibly relished Harry’s question.  “It would be my pleasure, lover,” she hissed. “I will finally be able to properly reward you for all that you have done. With myself, and with this gorgeous little kitten here. Isn’t that right?”

Hermione mewled in Bella’s grip, and Harry realized just how intense this was about to be.  And then Bella was on them both, and there was no more room in his head for thoughts.

 

*****

 

After hearing that Harry had been healed—and then promptly dragged away by Bella and Hermione for reasons that Ron could guess quite easily—Ron, his wife, and the girl they were, uh… seeing wound up in the Gryffindor common room, sitting quietly around the fire.

 

Seemingly unconsciously, Diana chose to sit apart from them; while Ari curled up against her husband in one of the plush armchairs, the Queen of the Dementors sat stiffly in her own seat, turned away from the fire. The flickering light cast odd shadows over her ghostly pale skin, and the tines of her bony crown cast sharp, deadly shadows of their own against the wall.

 

Ron, realizing that the silence in the room might stretch on until it became unbearable, decided to take matters into his own hands.

 

“So, uh,” he began, “What’s Azkaban like, anyway?”

 

Diana blinked in surprise. Her infernal lips folded outwards quizzically. “Why do you wanna know?” she asked. 

 

Ron shrugged, making Ari stir against his shoulder, her silky black hair spilling over his chest as she yawned. Her mandibles stretched into the air, hairy and buzzing, before folding back beneath her lips.

 

“It’s your home,” he replied. “And I don’t want…whatever this is…to just be sex, y’know? You’re our friend, Diana. Only seems fair to want to know more about you.”

 

Diana raised an eyebrow. “You’re still thinking of sex?” she asked, chuckling. “After what we did to you earlier?”

 

Ari buzzed with laughter of her own, and only the fact that Ari herself had managed to burn away a lot of Ron’s awkwardness around intimacy let him keep a straight face.

 

“I’m pretty sure that asking about your home is specifically me not thinking about sex,” he pointed out. 

 

Diana tilted her head, her braid of iridescent, shimmering hair falling over her shoulder as she did so. “Good point,” she conceded. “Well, not sure why you’d wanna know about the most miserable place on the planet, but sure, why not.”

 

She took a second, gathering her thoughts, before she spoke again. “Azkaban’s…well, it’s Hell on earth,” she said. “It storms constantly, it’s cold, wet, miserable, full of screaming, insane prisoners and dark magic and evil. I think you’d like it.”

 

Ron blinked. Only when Diana’s lips curled into what passed for a Dementor’s grin did he realize she was joking.

 

“But seriously,” she continued, “it’s…not so bad, I guess. We—the Dementors, I mean—have our own wing of the fortress there, separate from the prison. It’s where I grew up. And, y’know, it’s dark and gloomy and all that…but Dementor monarchs have lived there long enough that it’s homey, too.”

 

Ron frowned. “Dementor monarchs?” he asked. “How does that make the place more homey?”

 

Diana sucked in a breath. “Oh, right,” she said quietly. “Forgot that most people don’t know that part. Sorry, you’re like… the first human being I ever actually talked to. The first one that’s sane, anyway.”

 

As Ron processed that, Ari turned in her own seat to regard Diana with the steely, even gaze of a princess. “I would like to hear this explanation as well,” she requested. “My mother’s realm is many things, but rich with information on the genealogy of the Dementor ruling family it is not.”

 

Diana snorted. “Nowhere is,” she answered. “We kinda keep to ourselves, if you haven’t noticed. But, uh…okay.”

 

She took a breath, glanced around the room, and then returned her eerie gaze to Ron’s face.

 

“So…first things first, I’m not really like the other Dementors,” she said. “I’m…well, I’m half human. So was my mother, and her father, and his father.”

 

Ron’s eyebrows knit together. “How the hell does that work?” he demanded.

 

Diana grinned. “Magic?” she suggested. “I don’t know. But it’s the truth. The Dementor King or Queen is always half human. It’s a fundamental requirement for the position—even if another Dementor somehow tried to claim power, and they never would, they wouldn’t be recognized because they’re not human. I…I am. Kinda. The power of a Dementor, but with a human mind. That makes me different from every other Dementor. They’re all single-minded creatures, who exist to feed off misery and souls and not much else. They don’t really… think. But me? I have free will. I can do anything I want. Unless it’s unfit for my station, of course.”

 

Her monstrous smile faded again, and Ron found himself once again studying the distinctly human cast of Diana’s features, the way her eyes melded mortal emotion and undeath. A girl with a human soul, surrounded by soul-sucking creatures of darkness that worshiped her as their goddess, for having the thing that they could never have. A girl raised in the most nightmarish prison in the world. 

 

No wonder she was a little socially stunted.

 

Ari frowned. “So how does a Dementor Queen have an heir?” she asked. Typical, the Acromantula princess wanting to know about heirs.

 

Diana sighed. “Each monarch must take a human consort,” she explained, the droll tone of her voice making it clear that she was reciting a line that had been drilled into her many times over. “Sometimes that’s a lifelong bond, for all that Dementor monarchs rarely have more than one child. Other times, it’s…not.”

 

Ari’s expression grew more curious. “What do you mean?” she asked.

 

Diana’s gaze darkened. “My…mother,” she said, and the look in her eyes rang with pain. “She never told me who my father was. I doubt I’ll ever know. But my mother…wasn’t the type to take a human mate for life, the way a lot of my ancestors did. I…don’t know exactly what she did, but I do know that my mother was…she acted a lot more Dementor than human. And she treated having an heir like just another requirement of the crown. There’s a reason I don’t want to know how I was… conceived.”

 

Ron shuddered, finding himself agreeing resoundingly with Diana on that one. Ari buzzed thoughtfully.

 

“Your mother sounds like a dick,” she observed, making Diana bark out a laugh in surprise.

 

“Yeah,” she agreed once she’d recovered. “Yeah, she was. She was… cold. In a human way, not a Dementor way. Always treated me…not like a burden, really, but like something she only cared about in terms of doing her duty to me. Duty seemed to be all she cared about—that, and maybe tormenting a prisoner with his own darkest nightmares occasionally.”

 

Ron winced. “Yeah, that seems…not great,” he managed.

 

Diana hummed in agreement. “I don't think she, like, gave in to her dark side or something like that,” she continued. “I just think she was a piece of shit. She sided with Voldemort in the last war, after all.”

 

Ron…hadn’t remembered that little detail. “So what happened to her?” he asked gently. “If you…want to talk about it.”

 

Diana smiled weakly, lips flaring to reveal the void between them. “You’re a sweetheart, Ronnie,” she said. “I don’t mind talking about it. She…well, she got sick with something. It doesn’t happen much to us, but when it does, it never ends well. It burned through her in a week; one day, she was ordering me around like usual, the next…the next, I woke up in the middle of the night with my head splitting apart, and I knew what had happened.”

 

She raised a long, skeletal finger to her head, tapping the tines of the crown that had literally forged itself out of her own skull. 

 

“The Crown of Bone is the mark of the Dementor monarch,” she murmured softly, her eyes distant and distracted. “It grows right out of their skull, starting from the moment the magic of our people claims them. The second the old ruler dies, the new one starts to grow. It…I’ll be honest, it fucking hurts. A lot. At least it was quick, though. By the time my mother’s servants reached me to inform me what had happened, I was already Queen in the eyes of magic, which was all my people needed. When my door opened, they were throwing themselves at my feet. They’ve never stopped.”  

 

A log in the fire popped, and Diana turned her head to watch the sparks fly, entranced by the light and the life of it. It was a moment before she could speak again.

 

“That was…two years ago?” she estimated. “I’ve been on my own ever since. Queen of the Dementors. Lady of Azkaban. Keeping the prisoners there contained, and managing a few thousand soul-sucking monsters who worship the ground I walk on, but still wish I was more like my mother, the cold-hearted bitch that she was. She would’ve let Harry die today. She would’ve probably eaten your soul, Ron, just for being my friend.”

 

Ron was quiet for a moment. Then, he said, “Then I’m glad you're here instead, Diana.”

 

Diana flashed him a smile. “I think that’s the first time anyone’s ever told me that,” she said softly.

 

Ron felt Ari’s fingers tighten on his shirt, and for a moment, he worried he’d gone too far for his wife’s liking.

 

Instead, Ari hefted herself upright, and fixed Diana with a potent glare of her own.

 

“I have decided,” she pronounced with mandibles buzzing, “that you are in desperate need of more regular fuckings from my husband. Merlin knows you’ve earned it.”

 

As Ron stiffened in alarm, Diana let out a light, clear laugh like a bell.

 

“Well, I’m not going to say no,” she agreed cheerfully. “Even if I can’t kiss him.”

 

Ari hummed to herself for a moment. “So, this consort thing you mentioned,” she began. “I’m going to make a very wild guess indeed, and assume that you would like Ron to father your heir?”

 

Ron’s eyes widened, and he felt his heart skip a beat—and then another as Diana didn’t deny it.

 

At least, she didn’t do it immediately. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, her eyes distant, her fingers drumming on the armrest.

 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Look, Ari. I’m eighteen years old. I’ve been Queen for barely two years, and this is literally the first time I’ve ever been off Azkaban for more than a day or so. Ron is the first boy I’ve ever talked to, let alone fucked. If I had to pick right now, then yeah, absolutely…but I don’t have to pick right now. Maybe eventually. But for now…can we just keep doing this casual sex thing? It’s a lot of fun, and there’s no risk of accidentally knocking me up or anything. I’d only be able to get pregnant from an actual bonded consort.”

 

Ari nodded, though she seemed curious about what “bonded consort” meant. Diana didn’t explain, though, and Ron, having already gotten himself magically hitched to one monstrous woman by accident, wasn’t inclined to ask.

 

“Well,” he said, “so long as Ari is okay with it, I’d love to, Diana. You’re…incredible, and I’m glad you’re my friend.”

 

Ari smiled. “And fuckbuddy,” she added, leaning in close to whisper, “I learned that word from one of Hermione’s books. The ones she doesn’t want anyone else to know she reads.”

 

Ron and Diana both laughed—though Ron briefly found himself mildly concerned over what else might have been in those books. Merlin only knew what depravity Bella and Hermione were inflicting on Harry right now.

 

A thought struck him, then, as Diana stirred from her seat and Ari began to rise as well.

 

“Hey, Diana?” he asked. “Did you…know any of the prisoners in Azkaban?”

 

Diana nodded as she stretched, her long, slender arms and legs curving enticingly. “Sure,” she confirmed. “Most of them were so crazy by the time I met them that they were basically just spouting gibberish, but yeah, I did my rounds like any other Dementor.”

 

Ron nodded. “Did you…know Sirius Black?” he asked.

 

The change in Diana’s face was instant. Her gaze darkened, her lips pressed in tight, and her nose wrinkled in frustration. “Yeah,” she sighed. “Yeah, I did.”

 

Ron found her reaction unnerving, but forged ahead anyway. “What was he like?”

 

Diana was quiet for a minute, staring into the fire. Then, she spoke.

 

“He was…friendly, whenever he spoke to me. He asked my name, seemed surprised when I actually answered back. Always asked how I was doing whenever I came by. And yet, I think he scared me more than any other prisoner in Azkaban,” she said.

 

Ari frowned. “Why? Because he was more insane than the others?”

 

Diana shook her head. “No,” she answered. “Because even now…I don’t actually think he was insane. Which means he was too tough for Azkaban to break.”

 

With that cheery declaration, Diana rose, and headed for the door.

 

“Goodnight, Ronnie,” she said. “I should really be getting back. Hope your dick’s back to normal by tomorrow. Just in case I get thirsty, y’know?”

 

She disappeared out the door, leaving Ron to the tender mercies of his wife.

 

Ari, of course, had very few tender mercies, at least when it came to the bedroom. “Well, husband,” she murmured in Ron’s ear, “Shall we retire for the night? I can think of a better use for your seed than nourishing a greedy Dementor Queen.”

 

Ron shivered just from the look in Ari’s eye. “And what might that purpose be?” he replied playfully, even though he already had a pretty good idea.

 

His intuition proved correct. Ari grinned, revealing buzzing mandibles and gleaming fangs. 

 

“Why, fertilizing my eggs, of course,” she declared. “Now. Bedroom.”

 

She grabbed for him, and Ron saw no reason to argue.

 

*****

 

Unfortunately, after a spectacular night, Harry was informed of what had happened to his broomstick- it had flown into the Whomping Willow.  Said tree was none too pleased by this intrusion, and had reduced it to kindling.  It had taken Ron’s pleas to Madam Pomfrey to prevent her from throwing it out.  Additionally, they had lost.  Cedric had caught the snitch just after he’d fallen off his broom.  Apparently the Hufflepuff had all but thrown a fit, seeing his win as completely unfair, and demanding a rematch.  It had taken Oliver Wood conceding to get him to stop.  Of course, he was still on bed rest the following day, so he had his two girlfriends there to comfort him.  It still hurt when he entered the potions class the next day.  Draco had taken his cast off, and was celebrating by making exaggerated motions of him falling off his broom.  The fact that he was literally seconds away from… whatever the Dementors did to those at their mercy only seemed to make them happier.  A few had muttered that they’d wished that the Queen was too late… for whatever it was.  That Kiss?  Either way, he needed to talk to someone.  Someone who knew how to beat the Dementors.  He thought of Diana, but decided against it.  Thus, he made his way to the Defense class, and knocked on the door.  

 

“Come in!” Professor Lupin called, turning around to greet him.  “Oh, hello, Harry,” he said, a soft smile on his face.  “Are you doing all right?”

 

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted, sitting down.  “Why… Why do the Dementors affect me so much?” he asked.

 

Lupin paused.  “It’s because you have gone through so much,” he said softly.  “Dementors are among the most foul creatures on the planet, literally feeding off of misery and suffering.  For you, who has suffered great loss, they can pull it… though… how clear is the memory?”

 

“A bit foggy,” Harry admitted.  “I can make out words… but always my mother’s pleas, and Voldemort laughing…” Harry paused.  “Or maybe I’m suffering for two…”

 

“What do you mean?” Lupin asked.

 

“My scar… Professor Dumbledore said that there’s a good chance that night that the last sliver of good in Voldemort was expelled when he tried to kill me…”

 

Lupin gained a shocked expression at that, before he thought for a moment.  “Then that moment would have been that shard’s worst moment as well… there may be some merit to that equation…”

 

“How do I keep myself safe from them?  If… if it wasn’t for the fact that Ron apparently is friends with possible benefits with their Queen, then I would have died-”

 

“No,” Lupin stated, growling.  “You would not have died.  You would have suffered a fate even worse than death- the Dementor’s Kiss.”

 

“What’s that?” Harry asked.

 

“You saw Diana’s mouth, correct?”  Harry nodded.  “A dementor’s lips are shaped like that because of their source of nourishment- souls.  They can, at long ranges, leech of the souls of those around them- stealing their happy memories until there’s nothing left but a man consumed with the worst nightmares of his life.  But that is still a mild fate compared to the Kiss.  A Dementor wraps its lips around their prey’s lips, like a kiss, hence the name, and they suck the entire soul out in one fell swoop.  All traces of personality are gone.  From an outside perspective, you are dead… but your body doesn’t know that yet.  You are a shell.  There are… theories about what happens to the soul.  Is it obliterated?  Is it dragged off into hell?  Or is there a tiny portion left, trapped in the still living body, unable to control itself but keenly aware of what happened to it?”

 

Harry let out a shudder of pure revulsion.  “How… how do I defend myself?”

 

“Well, for most dementors, there is a way…”

 

“Most?” Harry asked, mostly to himself, though.

 

 “But the spell is considered incredibly advanced, and most cannot even cast it- the Patronus Charm.”

 

“Can you cast it?” Harry asked.

 

“I can.  Do you want me to teach you?”

 

“Please… I don’t want to be in that position again…” Harry almost whimpered, feeling very afraid at the mere thought of being in a similar situation, without Diana to save him.

 

“Then I will.  The spell is known as the Patronus charm.  What it does is that it provides a shield between the caster and the dementor.  This shield is a personification of happiness, joy, and other things that the dementor feeds off of, but it cannot feel sadness or despair.  Therefore it cannot be harmed by it.  And with enough strength, it can push a dementor back.  Most Dementors, at least. As far as I can tell, nobody’s ever tried it on a Dementor monarch. Luckily, I think you’ve got a better defense if Diana decides to kill you.”

 

“What?”

 

“Have your friend Ron drop his trousers,” Lupin snarked.  “Now, for most of the time, a patronus will be a shape.  However, if cast with extreme strength, it will take an animal form- a corporeal patronus, as it were.  Now, I don’t expect you to have to pull that off.  That sort of thing is used for entire swarms of dementors.  But that isn’t the key.  The key is that you have a happy memory.  Focus on a happy memory, and you will be able to cast it.  Do you have a memory?”

 

It was a no-brainer.  “Yes,” he said, his mind going back to second year- it sometimes felt like it was so long ago, but one thing remained- the memory that he’d never have to go back to the Dursleys.  That they wouldn’t be able to hurt him anymore.

 

“Good.  Now, I want you to conjure up that memory, and focus.  And then say the incantation:  Expecto Patronum.”

 

“Expecto Patronum,” Harry repeated.

 

“Good.  Now, I don’t have Betty with me today, and I don’t think Diana is around, and I’m sure as hell not bringing in a normal dementor for that, so I’d say we call it here. I should have her around by the end of the week.”

 

*****

 

That afternoon, Daphne hit her breaking point.  

 

It was probably inevitable. She’d been hexed half a dozen times trying to get to class in the last month; tripping jinxes, minor curses, a hair-removal spell that had come worryingly close to ripping out her eyebrows.  The harassment hadn’t just been from her former Slytherin housemates, either. Gryffindors jeered or jolted her in the hallways; Ravenclaws watched her with hateful eyes. Even Hufflepuffs, the friendliest, most accepting people at Hogwarts, turned away from her when she approached. Everywhere she went, she found seas of closed-off, cold faces, sullen and mistrustful and murmuring.

 

Beast. Wolf. Monster.

 

She could hear them saying it. Even when they didn’t speak aloud, she could hear them. She didn’t even really disagree. How could she? They were right.  

 

She knew what she was. She could feel it in the back of her mind, whispering in her veins. The full moon had passed, but it would be back again. It would always return. Every month for the rest of her life, it would come for her. And if she slipped up once, if she made one mistake, if she forgot Wolfsbane one single time…

 

The rest of her life. Daphne still didn’t really get that, she didn’t think. It was just too big. Too hard to wrap her mind around. Her whole future was in shambles, the things she’d expected out of life in flames. She’d built herself a new future—or part of one, at least—had reinvented herself, but a change like that wasn’t something that happened overnight.

 

That wasn’t what finally broke her, though. She could take the hexes and the harassment, the whispers behind her back and the hateful glares in the hallways. She’d expected all of those things. She’d expected worse.  No, the thing that broke her was far closer to home.

 

Daphne stepped past the Fat Lady—who huffed in disgust at the sight of her, as always—and into the Gryffindor common room, still feeling her skin crawling from a barely-dodged Pins and Needles Jinx some Slytherin fifth year had shot at her on her way back from class. She found herself wondering where Harry and the others were—ever since the start of the year, at least one of them had been escorting her more or less everywhere—and for good reason, given the constant hexing. But they’d been busy today.

 

Busy, it seemed, making out, judging by the fact that Harry and Hermione were currently curled together in one of the armchairs in the common area, trading lazy, tender kisses in a way that made everyone who walked past them cringe from the pure secondhand schmoopiness.

Daphne couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight. It was a complete shift from the slightly awkward, newfound relationship that Harry and Hermione had had before—one where they still seemed unsure of how to actually act now that they were dating, still shy and timid with each other. Now, they were supremely comfortable in each others’ space; Harry’s arm curled around Hermione’s waist, his free hand scritching under her chin or petting her ears, making her purr deeply as she snuggled against his neck, her arms wrapped around his chest.  Daphne realized quickly what must have happened. Hermione hadn’t been in her bed that morning—she’d appeared at breakfast looking incredibly tired, but deeply satisfied and newly confident. She’d looked…well, she’d looked smug, like the cat who’d got the cream.  Looking at them again, Daphne realized that that was almost certainly exactly what Hermione had gotten.

 

That was what did it. Daphne pictured the two of them, two of the only people who had willingly brought her into their circle after she became a monster, together, their bodies intertwined, Harry’s green eyes and Hermione’s twitching tail, Bella guiding the two of them…and she wanted.

 

She wanted that. She wanted them. Both of them. 

 

Daphne was not an idiot. She knew herself, knew her heart. She understood what this feeling in her chest was. What it could become. She didn’t dare speak the word, didn’t dare think the word, but she knew it clear as day.  And that…that was a dangerous thing. A dangerous feeling, a dangerous wish. Because she couldn’t have it. She’d never have it.

 

She was a werewolf. She was infected. There was no escape from that. No matter what she did, she would always be a danger to everyone around her. Especially those who she might have loved.

 

So Daphne stared at Harry and Hermione as they did something she’d never get to do, and tried so very hard to pretend she didn’t feel an overwhelming, soul-deep want.  At last, they noticed her. Harry and Hermione at least had the decency to look sheepish as they broke their latest kiss and turned to look at her.

 

“Oh, hi, Daphne!” Hermione said brightly. “How are you doing?”

 

Daphne stared at her for a moment. “I want you,” the beast in her heart whispered. “I want to see what you look like when Harry Potter touches you. I want to see what he looks like when you touch him. I want what I can’t have.”

 

She grit her teeth. “I’m fine,” she lied to Hermione. “Have either of you seen Bella?”  The look that flitted across Harry and Hermione’s faces was all the evidence the former Slytherin part of Daphne needed to know that whatever had happened last night, Bella had been there too. And that was encouragement the howling beast inside Daphne did not need. 

 

Harry lifted his head. “I think I saw her sunning herself by the lake,” he offered. “Want me to come with you to find her?”

 

Daphne shook her head rapidly. “No, no,” she said hastily. “I can go find her myself.”

 

Without waiting for another word to leave her friends’ mouths, she turned on her heels and tried to act like she wasn’t running as fast as she could away from the Gryffindor common room.

She didn’t head out towards the lake, though. She headed for the Defense classroom.

 

Daphne wasn’t an idiot. She knew where to go when she didn’t know what to do. 

 

She went to find her father.

Notes:

The next chapter will appear without warning on an unspecified date.

This IS a threat.

Chapter 26

Chapter by The_Plauge_Dragon

There was another Hogsmeade visit right before Christmas.  Bella, who had never been good with cold temperature, has cuddled up around the fire, happily dreaming.  Of what, Harry didn’t know, but judging by her lecherous chuckles and hums, he really didn’t WANT to know.  Ari also stayed behind to visit with her mother. Harry wasn’t sure whether Diana would come up in that conversation, and figured that he wouldn’t worry about it too much until he had to help Ron flee the country or something.

 

Harry had gotten some spending money for things, and, on a whim, decided to take his invisibility cloak. He hid it under his coat, and soon, they were off.  Now the question was what they’d do there. As they approached the Hogsmeade station, they saw a familiar face—well, familiar hands under a hood, with two dementors flanking her. The students gave them a wide berth. This made it easier for the three to approach. 

 

“Hi, Diana,” Ron said fearlessly. Harry supposed that having fucked the Queen of Despair behind a Quidditch shack made it easier to approach her—well, except for possible pelvis injuries. With a wave of her hand, the two Dementors left, moving away, which allowed the rest of them to approach more easily. 

 

“Hi Ron,” Diana said, pulling off her hood. “Didn’t know it was a Hogsmeade weekend.”

 

“I don’t mean to be rude… but why are you here?” Hermione asked. In response, Diana frowned, her circular mouth making the movement a bit more pronounced.

 

“VIP meeting,” she grumbled.  “The Minister is a paranoid bastard.”

 

“The Minister?!” Ron exclaimed. 

 

“Why here?” Harry asked. 

 

“Probably because I’m here,” she said, shrugging.  “It takes his written orders to send me somewhere, after all.”

 

“So… the train…” Harry began. 

 

“Yeah, not my idea. Admittedly it was probably better to have the Dementor who understands the concept of no… and I got to meet you, Ronnie~” she teased.

 

Daphne giggled a little, before she turned around, and froze.  Harry did as well, and blinked in surprise. 

 

“Professor Snape?” Harry asked, surprised.  He moved his bag a little, hoping his cloak wasn’t visible.  “How… How long were you listening?”

 

“About one minute. Need I remind you, Weasley, that sex isn’t allowed during Hogsmeade trips?”

 

“Who made that rule?!” Diana complained. 

 

“The Headmaster, after the Butt-erbeer incident,”

 

“The… what?” Daphne asked. 

 

What followed was possibly the Snapiest sarcastic glare ever exhibited by Severus Snape. “It’s called that for a reason,” Snape replied.  “I think you can figure out what happened.”

 

There was a general cringing.

 

“Anyways… you said there was a VIP meeting, Diana?” Harry asked.

 

“Hoping to catch a few words, Potter?” Snape drawled.  “Well, I don’t think you can- for some reason the Minister very much wanted you not to be there- and Miss Granger, especially.  So if I were you, I’d avoid the back tables of the Three Broomsticks, near the Christmas tree.”  With that, he strode off, managing to pull off that ‘billowing cloak’ thing even in the snow.

 

“One of these days I’m going to ask him how he does that…” Daphne muttered.

 

“I mean, I’d also like to know.  It’d help a lot with making a scene,” Diana mused.

 

“So, do you know what they’re going to talk about?” Hermione whispered, as they followed Snape at a distance.

 

“What do you think?” Ron deadpanned.  “It’s obviously about Black.”

 

“Ummm… do you all happen to know anything about him?  Draco said I’d want to hunt him down…” Harry added, as he pulled out the invisibility cloak.  He figured he and Hermione could fit under it quite well.

 

Daphne paused.  “My… old family talked about him a little… my f- Mister Greengress was always smug about him, but said he ‘didn’t have the stones’ to kill muggles… said he was a blood-traitor when he was at school… but that’s it…”

 

“The man they’re saying is Voldemort’s number two was like Ron’s family?” Harry asked, incredulous.  “That… what?”

 

“I know as little as you do.  Come on.”   The group got close to the Three Broomsticks, where Harry and Hermione slid under the Invisibility cloak.  Harry quite enjoyed the closeness they had to be in to fit.  With that, they got a table.  It was opposite to where Snape was.  He nodded once, and that was all that he did.  Diana moved to a guarding position.  As an added bit of security, Daphne used a charm to move the Christmas tree a bit, so they wouldn’t be seen.  However, they could see the doors.

 

“What if they use a silencing charm?” Harry whispered.

 

“The Queen of the Dementors is right there.  Look.”  Sure enough, people were getting up and moving, a slight bit of frost appearing on the ground.  Diana had slipped into the role of a Dementor quite nicely, though they noticed that the aura wasn’t touching them, which Harry was very thankful for.  Finally, after a few minutes, he saw Professors Flitwick and McGonagall walk into the pub.

 

“Why Fudge thought bringing… her… was a good idea, is beyond me,” Flitwick grumbled.

 

“The Minister is a paranoid fool who thinks Black is going to stab him while he sits on the toilet,” Snape deadpanned.  Then Hagrid stepped in.  “Greetings, Hagrid.  How is the case?”

 

“I’ve put it righ’ in, an’ mailed ‘bout a dozen copies to various Ministry folks,” Hagrid replied.  “Wanted te make sure it wasn’t lost,” he said.

 

“Well, the Minister is going to come here, so you can ask him yourself.  It was a clear-cut case of Hippogriff baiting, so it’s likely that he could clear it up with one conversation,” Snape said.  Harry could almost feel the sarcasm in his voice as a physical force.

 

“Be nice, Severus,” Flitwick said.

 

“I’m being realistic, Filius.  Lucius has him on puppet strings.  For all intents and purposes, that blonde bastard is the real Minister.”

 

Harry was surprised that Snape didn’t like Draco’s dad, but then again, Snape had changed quite a lot, so maybe it was also that? Or maybe Snape just hated everyone.

 

“So why did he want to meet?  About Black?” the transfiguration professor guessed.

 

“Truly, you should have gone to Ravenclaw,” Snape snarked.  “That, and his order that Potter not know about the… other details.  Totally moronic.”

 

“He said he was worried that Harry would hunt him down.”

 

“Not to worry, Minerva.  I told him that I would accompany him, on the condition that I get the first ten minutes with him,” Snape stated.  “The Headmaster has voiced his concerns at keeping Mister Potter in the dark.”

 

Well, that was interesting.  Was he finally going to learn why Draco said what he said?

 

“I haven’t been told what he did,” Diana replied icily.  “And I know all of the other crimes of the prisoners.  I wish to know the extent of his crimes.”  Wow, that was almost as icy as the words she had spoken on the Quidditch Pitch.

 

“Perhaps you should ask him to, your Majesty,” Snape stated.  “I imagine it would be quite a learning experience.”

 

“And you know?”

 

“We all do.  It’s just that the Minister said we’d be in trouble if we breathed so much as a word to the students- again, his paranoia to prevent Potter from learning.”

 

“I don’t think he should know… that kind of weight on him…” the Head of Gryffindor House muttered.

 

“Ah yes, not knowing.  The foolish belief that ignorance is bliss,” Snape stated.  “You’d be surprised what a bit of knowledge can do to someone.”

 

“Speaking from experience?” the charms teacher asked, curious.

 

“Indeed,” Snape replied, casually ordering some drinks for everyone.  “I apologise if the alcohol is a bit light, Minerva.  We need you sober, not turning into a cat and rubbing up against us, demanding pets.”

 

All of them had to stifle their laughter.  Diana helped by laughing loudly.

 

“Anything else you’d like to add?” the animagus grumbled, as she took her glass.

 

Holy hell, 80 proof alcohol was LIGHT for Professor McGonagall?!

 

“I am curious to see what Miss Granger hears from you when you’re drunk.  I have heard that she can translate what you’re meowing.”

 

“I’m a pretty kitty, watch me strut, strut, strut,” Flitwick sang.  Again, Diana’s loud laughter saved them- evidently she knew when they were about to laugh, and covered it up.

 

“Not one word to the Minister.  He’s sent a letter to Dumbledore, inquiring about Miss Granger’s current status.  The last thing we need is for him to decide that it’s worth the risk of expelling Miss Granger.”

 

Harry clutched Hermione’s hand, preventing her from panicking.

 

“And how would our Headmaster take an expulsion for such a matter?”

 

“Move over, You Know Who, there’s a new Dark Lord in town,” Flitwick deadpanned.

 

“The idea of Albus being a Dark Lord does not need to become a nightmare.”

 

“Bewar’ te fury of a patient man,” Hagrid replied, totally unfazed as the others gave him odd looks. “Wha?”

 

“And this is why anyone who thinks you’re an oaf is very, very ignorant of what goes on in your mind,” Snape said.

 

“To be fair, it’s no’ like I’d have any real danger in the forest,” Hagrid pointed out.

 

“Yes, your daughter.  How is she doing, anyways?”

 

“Actually…” Hagrid leaned in, and whispered something to them.

 

“She wants to WHAT?!” Flitwick screamed.

 

“Uh huh,” Hagrid said, smirking.

 

“How… why… could it…” the deputy headmistress stammered, before the door opened, and a portly man strode through.  Diana did nothing as he approached and sat down.

 

“Minister,” Snape said, snapping everyone out of their shock.  “Why, pray tell, did you call us for an emergency meeting?”

 

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?  He broke into Hogwarts on Halloween!  That put so many students at risk!”

 

“It put all of the students at risk,” Snape replied.

 

“That and Dumbledore’s questionable hiring practices-”

 

“Say another word about Remus Lupin, Minister, and there shall be an emergency election on account of the previous MInister dying in office,” Snape snarled.  All of the teachers blinked in shock.

 

“I am… surprised that you would think so highly of it-”

 

“He saved one of my students, who was disowned and left to die, Minister,” Snape growled.  “That does raise someone’s appreciation of them.”

 

“And then there’s the other thing-”

 

“Your Highness?  If you Kiss a certain someone, I will allow you full access to the Potions class when Gryffindor is there,” Snape answered, cold as ice.

 

Fudge started to stammer nonsense.

 

“And how wonderful it is, that death threats against Ministers is legal,” Snape replied, sipping his butterbeer.  “A pity that the law was passed so that the only Muggleborn Minister of Magic ever couldn’t detain half of the purebloods in Britain.”

 

“I do believe we’re getting off track,” Flitwick said calmly, as Diana moved closer to Fudge, obviously in contemplation.

 

“W-why would she-”

 

“Because she feels like it,” Snape answered.  “You do know she’s a Queen, yes? She listens to you because she wants to, not because you have any particular hold over her. Also, I rather suspect I know where she and Mister Weasley were during the Quidditch match. That might have something to do with it as well.”

 

Harry looked back to see Ron looking mildly horrified.

 

“I… I see…” Fudge cleared his throat.  “And Potter still doesn’t know?”

 

“I would like to know,” Diana said coldly.

 

“...Pardon?” Fudge squeaked at the Dementor Queen.

 

“As Queen of Azkaban, it is my right to know of all the crimes a prisoner has been convicted of, and to direct my subjects appropriately.  It is why Rubeus Hagrid was kept off limits for the most part.”

 

Harry really needed to thank Diana after this.

 

“Well… um… he never was convicted in a court of law… exceptional circumstances and all that-” Fudge began.

 

“So there is a chance that you threw an innocent man into my realm?” Diana asked, voice dripping with malice.

 

Fudge slammed a fist on the table.  “He was not innocent!” he roared.  “We found him at the scene of the crime, laughing madly!”

 

“Yes, I know of that crime… but I have been informed that he had… other crimes to his name,” Diana stated.  “I wish to know.”

 

“Your Majesty, I must protest-”

 

“Tell me, or I will immediately order my subjects to vacate the castle.”

 

“Now I’m tempted to- Minerva, put your wand down!” Snape snapped.  With a huff, she did so.

 

“Fine!” Fudge snarled.  “You all remember who Black was friends with in Hogwarts!”

 

“Yes… Remus, Peter Pettigrew, and James Potter,” Snape drawled.  “And they were thick as thieves… and demons of the school that would make the Weasley twins look positively tame.”

 

“I know you have bad memories, Severus-” Flitwick began.

 

“As their prime bullying target?” Snape questioned.  “I’ve moved on.  There’s a reason I’m no longer tormenting Potter, Minerva, and he is very much not his father.”

 

“I liked ‘em,” Hagrid muttered.

 

“Because they helped you smuggle Aragog’s wife into the country?”

 

“Who’s Aragog?” Fudge asked.

 

“Not to worry, Minister.  The statute of limitations of transportation of Acromantulas to create a colony has expired,” Flitwick replied.

 

“Transportation of WHAT-”

 

“Yes, they were close friends.  Black was Jame’s best man at his and Lily’s wedding, and he’s even Harry’s Godfather.”

 

Now it was Hermione’s turn to grasp Harry’s hand tightly.

 

“Betraying a friend like that isn’t a crime,” Diana answered coolly.

 

“Yes, well, being the murder of one and the accessory to murder of another is.  The Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them.”

 

“I am aware,” Snape answered, voice suddenly tight.

 

“Severus, no one blames you-”

 

“I blame myself, and will continue to do so,” Snape growled.  “And you can’t stop me.”

 

“We were part of the Order.  He would have hunted us all down regardless.”

 

Fudge cleared his throat.  “The Potters went into hiding with a specific spell- the Fidelius charm.  It makes them totally invisible.  Only the Secret-Keeper would know where they were.  He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could have literally been staring right through their window, directly at them, and wouldn’t have seen them.  And… James trusted Black with his life.  With his family’s life.”

 

“He was the secret-keeper, and he divulged the secret,” Flitwick answered, trying not to shake with rage.  Harry was joining him in that.

 

“He was there, when I came ‘ta pick ‘Arry up.  He was holding ‘im in his arms, crying.  He pleaded with me to let ‘im look after ‘Arry.  But I told him Dumbledore gave me an order… he let me use his bike.”

 

“It’s fortunate that you weren’t thrown off of it,” Snape answered.

 

“He likely woulda murdered the tyke,” Hagrid snarled.  “‘Ad I known what I know… Id’a torn him limb from limb.”

 

“He can do that,” Minerva replied.  “I’ve seen it.”

 

“‘E said he was gonna go ‘finish this’ after he let me ‘ave him, ‘an sadi he didn’t need the bike no more… shoulda’ been my first clue.  Evidently he wanted to make sure that all of his friends were dead.”

 

“Peter… the Neville of their group,” Minerva said fondly.  “The Ministry didn’t even know what he had done.  Peter did.  He confronted him, called him a murder, and drew his wand, from what the bystanders said- all muggles, so their memories were altered.  Black… Black was a faster draw.”

 

“Peter was awarded the Order of Merlin, 1st class posthumously,” Fudge said.  “Delivered to his mother with the only body part of him that was found- his finger.  I was one of the first on the scene… I remember the screams of muggles… the explosion at the sewer, and Black standing there, laughing.”

 

“I see,” Diana replied.  “And you wanted to keep this from his godson?”

 

“Yes.  Had Potter known-”

 

“He’d likely have wondered why no one had told him.  “By the way, you have a godfather who betrayed your parents and is the reason they’re dead’,” Snape grumbled.  “Well, one of the reasons…”

 

“Severus, you were the one who warned them that they were in danger-” Mierva began.

 

“It was my fault they were in danger in the first place.  And I’ll never forgive myself for it,” Snape muttered darkly.  “I thought that what I heard was utterly useless…”

 

Harry honestly didn’t really know how to feel about that last part.

 

“I’d say that Lily and James would have forgiven you,” Flitwick said comfortingly.  “And you still refuse to tell me why you think it’s your fault…”

 

“So an accessory to murder and also a murder of a friend,” Diana mused.  “And yet, still sane.  And now, you think he is out to avenge Voldemort?”

 

“That is our hypothesis, yes… though again, I still say you should have told Potter, or at least allowed us to tell him.  He deserves to know the truth,” Snape answered.

 

“He will learn it after Black has been Kissed!” Fudge growled.  “And not a moment before.”

Chapter 27

Chapter by The_Plauge_Dragon

The rest of the teachers left after a few more minutes.  After they had left, Snape turned to the tree, as Harry pulled off the invisibility cloak.  “Now you know,” he said.

 

“Why do you blame yourself?” was Ron’s first answer.

 

“Because I gave The Dark Lord some information that I thought was trivial and pointless, and he took it seriously,” Snape replied, sighing.  “I was a spy for the Order, who pretended to be a Double Agent…”

 

“Mister Greengrass said you were in the Dark Lord’s inner circle…”

 

Snape arched an eyebrow. “I did say I was a spy, Miss Lupin,” he said dryly. “And judging by the fact that I’m still alive, I’d say I was a rather good one.”

 

Harry had nothing to say to that. Snape snorted.  “Remember, Potter.  I get the first ten minutes.”

 

Harry hesitated again. “Was… was that part about the bullying…”

 

Snape’s eyes narrowed. For a moment, he looked like the Snape of Harry’s first year—a man deeply bitter about the past. 

 

“Yes,” he said bluntly. “Your father was arrogant, entitled, and a bully- not unlike mister Malfoy and his followers.  He mellowed out in the 7th year, at least.”

 

“So you were-”

 

“Irrationally placing my resentment on his son who never deserved a second of it,” Snape answered honestly, sighing again.

 

“I forgive you,” Harry decided, still in a daze.

 

“Thank you,” Snape answered.  “Keep Bella around you at all times, Potter.  Black no longer has a wand, so he would likely have little defense against a Basilisk.  And again- by the time such information became actually relevant, the Minister had banned us from saying it- with the Governors providing their rubber stamp, of course.”

 

*****

 

Harry was still in a daze when he arrived back in the Common Room, which Bella picked up on.  “What’s wrong?” she asked him, coiling around him.  Harry liked it when she did that- it was a full-body hug.  He liked hugs.  

 

“I…”  He told Bella what had happened, as well as Ari, who were there, listening intently.  When he was done, Bella coiled slightly tighter- not enough to suffocate, but enough that there was more pressure.

 

“I am never leaving your side, until he is brought to justice,” Bella swore.  “Be it in your classes, or your bed.”

 

“Oh, I don’t think he’ll be complaining,” Ari said, smirking.  Harry was, indeed, not complaining.  He was especially not complaining when Bella showed that, in bed with him, she slept naked.

 

*****

 

Harry still had no idea what Bella dreamed those nights, though he would constantly wake up to the gentle hugs of a lamia, which was a very nice feeling indeed.  Sure, he’d have to wake her up, which she’d complain about, but she’d eventually let him go.  It helped keep his mind off of things.  Then, one morning only a few days later, he got a letter from Hagrid.  It was wet from tears.  That was very much not a good sign.

 

The trial didn’t go well.  I said everything you all said, and it looked like they were in agreement, until Lucius started speaking.  Please come visit me.

 

-Hagrid.

 

Well, even though he wished Hagrid had told him about Sirius, Snape’s explanation was enough for him.  He showed them the letter, and he, Ron, Hermione, Bella, and Daphne made their way down to Hagrid’s hut.  Bella was getting lethargic from the cold, but was determined to guard Harry.  This would make Quidditch difficult… well, more difficult.  After a quick jog, they reached his door, and Harry knocked on it.  After a little bit, Hagrid came out, red-faced from crying.

 

“T-thanks fer comin,” he stammered, sniffling.  He gestured all of them in, Bella immediately coiling in front of the fire.

 

“How did you even lose?  It was open and shut!” Hermione exclaimed.  “After what I heard, I looked up the laws, and this was a textbook case!  Seriously!  There was a question about this in one of the textbooks about Magical Law, almost to the letter!”

 

“Tha’s what the solicitor said,” Hagrid mumbled.  “The Commission didn’ buy it.  Said she was a dangerous beast fer attacking ‘one of our most important treasures- our children’,” he said, mockingly.  “They only cared because it was Malfoy.”  That explained the mocking tone, at least.  He came and got some very strong whisky, from the smell of it.  He began pouring them some glasses of the stuff as well.

 

“Ummm…” Harry began.

 

“Don’ worry… I’m no’ selling it… yer over five anyways,” he mumbled.  The three humans and the werewolf politely declined, though Bella took a few swigs of alcohol.

 

“Is there anything you can do?” Hermione whispered.

 

“No… nothin’... an’ it’s too cold fer ‘er…”  There was a scratching at Hagrid’s back door, and he went over, revealing Buckbeak.  She trotted inside, and immediately placed her head on Harry’s lap, letting out a croon for pets.  Harry obliged.

 

“I’d le’ her go free, but that’d get Dumbledore in trouble, probably,” Hagrid moped.  “I’m lettin’ her stay inside for Christmas… least I cen do fer’ her…”

 

“So… do you have any other Christmas plans?” Herimone asked.

 

“Aragog’s comin’ over fer Christmas,” Hagrid said, shrugging.  “Wanted my help fer somethin’,” he mumbled.  “Gotta sober up befer she comes…”  The conversation devolved into some small talk afterwards, but there was little more they could do.  The four agreed to try to find a way to appeal the order, and went off into the library a few times.  During one visit, Hermione showed them the question.

 

“A wizard walks up to a Hippogriff, doesn’t bow, and insults it, after being warned by the owner not to do so.  The Hippogriff attacks.  What is the punishment?

A:  The Hippogriff is executed.

B:  The owner of the Hippogriff is fined seventeen galleons.

C:  The owner is executed.

D:  Nothing.”

 

“I’m guessing D,” Ron said.

 

“Answer:  D.  Explanation:  This is known as ‘Hippogriff baiting’, with the punishment being ‘whatever the hippogriff did’,” Hermione read aloud.  “This alone should be the appeals case!”  She went through the book, and eventually found the exact law.  They quickly wrote the question and the law down, and sent it off to Hagrid through the mail, and then went back to the Common Room.

 

*****

 

The smell of what was to be the Christmas Feast permeated the entire school- to the point that Scabbers was even perking up and sniffing the air.  That made Ron feel a lot better.  Harry thought it was a good sign as well.  Then, finally, it was Christmas.  Harry was awoken by a pillow from Ron, who was suddenly wrapped up in angry Basilisk, who mistook it for an attack.  Thankfully, Bella was able to tell it was Ron quickly, so there was no petrification nor venom.  Ari was in her drider form, happily bouncing up and down, waiting for them.  They raced downstairs, and found their presents around the tree.

 

“See if Mum’s made you a sweater,” Ron told Harry.  Sure enough, she had.  She’d made one for Ron as well.  There was a noise of confusion, the ripping open of a present, and then Harry heard Ron start gibbering in shock.  Harry turned around, and saw that he was holding a snow-white shirt.  He looked in the box, and saw that included was a pair of pants, socks, and gloves.

 

“There’s a large bottle in here, too,” he said.  Ron slowly peeked into the box again.

 

“Ari?  Is this what I think it is?”

 

“Oh yeah!  Mom said she wanted to give you something nice for Christmas, and I told her your size!” she said happily.

 

“Custom-fitted Royal Acromantula silk clothes… and… Ari?  Did you happen to disclose anything about where we lived?”

 

“Why?” Harry asked.

 

“Because this is a bottle of Royal Acromantula venom,” Ron stated, gently holding the bottle.  It was quite large- Harry estimated that it was at least a quart.  “Regular venom goes at one hundred gallons a pint.  Royal… goes for ten times as much.”

 

“Mom did say that she couldn’t have her future grandchildren going hungry,” Ari replied, opening a large, spherical gift- and yep, that was at least three gallons of the same liquid Ron was holding.

 

“Please put this somewhere safe while I pass out,” Ron whispered to Harry.  It turned out that Harry also got a set of Royal Silk clothing.  Bella got what amounted to a long tube of it, which Ari said was likely a peace offering.  Bella seemed to like it, anyways.  Then, after moving the wrappings from another gift away, Harry noticed that there was one gift with a really familiar shape.

 

“Did someone get you a broom?” Ari inquired, stating the obvious.

 

“Let’s see!” Ron declared, as Harry pulled away the wrapping.  After he had unwrapped it…

 

“Holy shit!” Ron whisper-squealed.

 

Harry was in perfect agreement there.  For, in his hands, was a Firebolt.  An international-standard broom.  Something he had dreamed about after seeing it on display in Diagon, and especially after his Nimbus 2000 had broken.

 

“Who…” he began, searching for a tag.  There was none.

 

“Lupin?” Ron guessed.

 

“What about Dad?” Daphne asked, coming in, and stopping when she saw the Firebolt.  “Who gave you that?!”

 

“We… we don’t know.  It… it was unmarked.  Did Professor Lupin…”

 

Daphne snorted.  “Not a chance.  He doesn’t have nearly enough money for that…” she said.  “Oh, Draco is going to FLIP when he sees you on this!” she giggled.  “It’s more expensive than the bribe he gave the team to get on!”

 

“So he did buy his way on!” Ron declared.

 

“Yep,” Daphne said.  “Flint was easily swayed by the brooms… didn’t make the other seekers who did far better than him happy,” she replied.  It was then that Hermione came in, holding Crookshanks, who had some tinsel on him.  The ginger cat let out a meow and a hiss.

 

“What was that for, Crookshanks?!” Hermione exclaimed.  The cat meowed some more.  “What the hell are you—” she didn’t finish, because Scabbers leapt from Ron’s pocket, and bolted.  Crokshanks, thankfully, didn’t chase after him, instead letting out a yowl, as he jumped out of Hermione’s arms, plodded up to Ron, and made himself comfortable in his lap.  Ron absent-mindedly started petting him, which he appreciated.

 

“What was that all about?” Ron asked.

 

Hermione sighed. “Look, to be honest,” she said, “I don’t even understand Crookshanks half the time.”

 

Ron blinked. “Don’t you speak cat now?” he asked.

 

Hermione’s whiskers twitched. “Yeah,” she said. “But for some reason, Crookshanks speaks in the thickest Scottish accent I’ve ever heard. I don’t even think he’s from Scotland!”

 

“I have many questions,” Ari said, after a moment of confused silence.

 

“As do I,” Hermione agreed. She then finally noticed the Firebolt.  “Who gave you THAT?!” she exclaimed.

 

“No idea,” Harry said, shrugging.  Hermione began to think, muttering under her breath, as her tail poofed up.  “Hermione?”

 

“Harry… I think I have an idea on who sent it to you,” she said, ears flat.

 

“Who?”

 

“Sirius Black,” she stated.  There was dead silence, before Ron started to laugh aloud.  He laughed, until he saw Hermione was still there, ears flat.  Slowly, the catgirl came close, and started sniffing the broom.  Her tail flicked in agitation as she did so.

 

“Aha!” she declared.  “Let me get Professor McGonagall!” with that, she sprinted out of the common room, leaving them stunned.

 

“Is she nuts?  Using a Firebolt as an assassination attempt, when he was able to get to the Fat Lady?!”

 

“He didn’t get in, though,” Ron pointed out, playing Devil’s Advocate.  “And it’s not like this isn’t the first time someone’s tried to kill Harry on a broomstick… actually… isn’t it every year someone tried?  First year, it was Quirrel, though we thought it was Snape-”

 

“So that’s why your broom went all crazy?” Daphne asked Harry, who nodded.

 

“Second year, Dobby-”

 

“He was aiming to main, not kill… not that it helped.”

 

“And this year- the Dementors… and possibly this.”  Ron turned to Daphne.  “So Lupin’s low on money?  Would he be okay if I split my gift with him?”  He held up the large bottle, which caused Daphne’s eyes to shrink to pinpricks.

 

“If you’re willing to share with him, husband, I’ll do the same!” Ari said happily, back in her humanoid form, and holding the massive container.

 

“...I’ll… let him know…” Daphne whispered in shock, before they heard rapid footsteps, with Hermione carrying a familiar cat under her arms.

 

“Did you-” Harry began, before Hermione shoved the Deputy Headmistress’ nose up to the broom.  She sniffed it a little, before letting out a hiss.  Hermione dropped her, and Professor McGonagall, in a nightgown, was now there before them.

 

“Miss Granger, all is forgiven,” she said.  “That, and you sobered me up.”

 

“I found her using a scratching post, and she complained about being taken away from it the whole way up,” Hermione explained.

 

“Wait… so…”

 

“I remember Black’s scent,” Minerva stated.  “And that’s what I’m smelling on this broom.  Potter, as much as I would like to have you use this to wipe the floor with the Slytherins and make that Cup finally decorate my office… I… I have to…” she looked like she had swallowed a particularly ripe lemon.  “I have to have Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick strip it down and look for jinxes and curses.”

 

“But Professor-” Ron began.

 

“This isn’t easy for me, either!” she complained.  “I want to have Potter show off to Malfoy about it as much as you do!  But a student’s safety comes first.”  She took it, and hauled ass out of the room.  After she left, they turned to look at Hermione.

 

“I was right,” she pointed out.

 

“And you did tell us your theory,” Ron admitted.  “So I understand… but I don’t like it.”

 

“That is an incredibly fiscally irresponsible assassination attempt,” Daphne muttered.

 

*****

 

A few hours later, Daphne, now wearing one of Molly Weasley’s legendary Christmas sweaters with more pride than she’d ever worn any luxurious pureblood gown given to her by her birth parents, slowly crept towards Lupin’s office, her mind whirling with a thousand conflicting thoughts.

 

There were the revelations of Christmas morning to process, of course, from the Royal Acromantula venom to the Firebolt to Daphne’s own Weasley sweater—according to Ron, a “Welcome to the family” gift from his mother. Daphne wasn’t sure if Molly Weasley had decided that Daphne was part of the family by adoption, or by future marriage—her heart twisted at the thought—but she was deeply, almost painfully touched all the same.

 

Honestly, though, the gift that was currently whirling around in Daphne’s head the most was the one she’d watched Bella give to Hermione. It had been a copy of the Kama Sutra—the true Kama Sutra, not the censored, magically-redacted one the Muggles had. The one with fully animated magical drawings, thousands of additional sex positions possible only with the use of magic, and entire sections detailing the possibilities of sex with monster girls. And of course, Bella just so happened to flip the book open to a lamia-humanoid woman-human man threesome position so utterly contorted and obscene, Hermione had developed a full body blush just from looking at the image, which had involved a woman flipped upside down with a lamia coiled around her as the lamia rode a human man.

 

Hermione had all but fled the room after that…but she’d taken the book with her. Daphne had left too…for a different reason. Namely, because her mind had had that magical drawing of the position, with Bella, Hermione, and Harry’s faces plastered onto it, absolutely seared into her mind.

 

And also because she knew without even having to borrow the book from Hermione that she wouldn’t find a werewolf section in it. And why would there be? Lycanthropy wasn’t something that brought excitement and pleasure to the bedroom. It was a disease, one she would live with all her life. One that made her far too dangerous to ever have sex with.

 

So, now Daphne was using the pretext of going to speak with her father about Ron and Ari’s offer as an excuse to flee from one the happiest days of her life with her tail tucked between her legs, lest she think too hard about the fact that she was facing a lifetime of being alone and too dangerous to love. She’d be more upset if she hadn’t fled from far, far worse things already.

At least it wasn’t far to Lupin’s office. Her father had taken up residence in the same office Quirrell and Lockhart had occupied—and so far he’d seemed immune to any curse that the two previous occupants had laid on the space. Well, other than the lycanthropy, of course, but that was a given.

 

As it turned out, though, Lupin wasn’t alone. When Daphne opened the door, she found none other than Professor Snape sitting across from her father, a steaming cup of tea in his hand and his usual sallow sneer on his face.  Lupin didn’t even seem to notice that Daphne had entered—which immediately told her that whatever Snape had just said, it had rendered Lupin completely speechless.

 

Luckily, that speechlessness didn’t last very long. Lupin coughed, setting down his own teacup before asking, “You’re serious? You… really think it might be possible?”

 

Snape hummed thoughtfully. “If I can persuade her to give me some ingredients to work with, I may be able to at least experiment with it,” he said cautiously. “It has been a while since I got to actually develop something new, after all. And teaching first years how to avoid killing themselves when brewing the simplest potions does get old after a while.”

 

Lupin swallowed. “Do you understand what this could mean, Severus?” he whispered. “If you succeed, it could—”

 

“Okay, what the hell are you two talking about?” Daphne demanded, hands on her hips. Both men jumped, visibly startled by her presence. It seemed they hadn’t even noticed her walk in.

 

Lupin was the first to recover. “Daphne!” he said brightly, though he was still visibly off balance. Whatever Snape had said, it must have really disturbed him. “It was nothing, we just—”

 

Snape sighed. “I see why you were in Gryffindor and not Slytherin, Remus,” he said. “You truly are a terrible liar.”

 

Daphne raised an eyebrow as Lupin grumbled something under his breath. “Does that mean we can skip the whole song and dance and you can just tell me?” she asked.

 

Snape shrugged. “I don’t see why not,” he decided. He took a deep breath, then said, “I was discussing possible…improvements I might be able to make to the standard formula for Wolfsbane, now that Mister Potter and Mister Weasley have… provided access to rare substances not typically accessible to potion makers.”

 

Daphne blinked. “You mean, like, basilisk products?” she asked.

 

Snape nodded. “Indeed,” he said. “Royal Acromantula venom, as well. What makes it particularly intriguing is that both of those creatures are often associated in old potions treatises with… well, longevity and permanence. What few known examples of their products being used as potions ingredients have often made potions last significantly longer. In a few cases, their effects appear to have become permanent.”

 

Daphne went completely, utterly still. Her brain, still roiling with all her fears, stopped working.

Permanent Wolfsbane. Permanent? How would that even work? Would it work?

 

“Y…you’re serious,” she said slowly. “You can do that?”

 

Snape’s expression shifted. “I have no idea,” he admitted. “But this is how we research and develop new spells and potions. Experimentation. I imagine that if I could convince Miss Bella to supply the ingredients, I could at least make the attempt.”

 

Daphne swallowed. If she received some kind of permanent Wolfsbane…it could fix everything. All her fears, all her problems…maybe she would no longer be contagious. Maybe she could finally put the wolf in a cage forever.

 

Maybe she would no longer be too dangerous to love.

 

“I’ll help you get the ingredients,” she heard herself say, before she’d even made the conscious decision to say it. “What do you need, Professor?”

 

Snape gave her an odd, disturbed look. He seemed surprised by her pathetically obvious eagerness. Lupin seemed a little more aware of her thoughts, judging by the concerned look he gave her, but Daphne ignored him; she had a mission now, and she was determined to accomplish it.

 

Snape sighed. “The ingredient in question is…basilisk milk,” he finally said, sounding reluctant to even complete the words. “Though I should warn you against simply walking up to Miss Bella and asking—” 

 

He spoke only to empty air. Daphne was already gone, sprinting out of the room like her nonexistent tail was on fire.

Chapter 28

Chapter by The_Plauge_Dragon

The group made their way down to the Great Hall after Daphne finished talking to Bella, where they found Professor McGonagall downing several glasses of sherry, the weight of the choice she had made heavy on her heart.  Binns, as per usual, didn’t show up.  Harry had a sneaking suspicion that he was still lecturing in his classroom, not even aware that it was the holidays.  To their combined surprise, the House tables had been moved to the side, with a table to fit a dozen being the only one there- and the reason was obvious.  The only other students that were apparently there for the holidays were a pair of nervous first years, and one sullen Slytherin fifth year, who took one look at Daphne, and stood up and marched out of the hall, scowling at her the entire way out.

 

“Well, that wasn’t very nice of him,” Dumbledore mused.  The heads of the Houses were there, as was Filch.  “Since there were so few students here for the holidays- likely due to the dementors- I decided that it’d be best to have this be the only table.  Sit, sit,” he encouraged, his eyes radiating grandfatherly warmth.  The group of four did so, and Albus wasted no time in passing out crackers- complete with miniature fireworks.  Snape took one, and found himself with a deer cap- and judging by the horns, a stag one.  This seemed to make him grumble a bit.  Minerva used her own, and then proceeded to enter the Silly Zone- for now there was a catnip necklace around her.  Quickly, Flitwick Vanished the necklace, saving both her and Hermione from further embarrassment.  Before Ron could test his luck with the next one, the doors to the Hall opened, revealing Professor Trelawney.

 

“Ah, Sybill!”  Dumbledore said warmly.  “It’s rare to see you outside of the Divination Tower?”

 

“Well, I smelled the delicious food, and couldn’t resist.  That, and I’m already drinking my worries away due to next year,” she added.  As Dumbledore summoned a chair, the Divination teacher paused.

 

“Sybill?”

 

“Thirteen.  The first to rise is the first to die.  Potter, since you have been giving the Grim Reaper blue balls since you were but a babe, could you quickly stand up when I sit down?”  With that, she sat.  Harry stood up, confused.  “Thank you, that should dispel the bad luck.  You can sit back down now.”

 

“Really, Sybill?” McGonagall deadpanned.

 

“He’s going to die of old age or not die at all, since, with his ability to survive anything, either Death is unable to catch him or is a shy maiden who cannot approach him, lest her heart give out.”

 

“Did you just suggest that Harry’d literally fuck Death?” Hermione deadpanned.

 

“Nothing is impossible with him,” the Divination professor said.  “And I meant it more or less in jest- but seriously, Death seems to want to collect you as late as possible.”

 

“Thanks,” Harry muttered.  “Tell that to the rest of your class.”

 

“I have been trying, my dear,” Trelawney explained.  “They seem to think that it is like arithmancy- one formula always leads to another!”

 

“It’s not?” Ron asked.

 

“No!  The winds of fate are not always set in stone, and the best way to seal your fate is to deliberately try to change it!”  She let out a sigh.  “Sorry… I’m a bit high-strung, considering all of the visions about next year,” she admitted.

 

“Hey, why did you blush when you looked at me the first time?” Ron asked.

 

“I was unprepared for the amount of sex in your future,” the Divination teacher declared. Then, she turned to Harry. “Or yours.”

 

Bella may not have been in full basilisk form, but Harry was still pretty sure that if he turned to meet her eyes at that moment, he would die on the spot. 

 

*****

 

There wasn’t much else to be discussed, though Snape had pulled Daphne aside regarding some sort of project that he was working on for her.  Harry didn’t pry.  However, when she came back, she had a permission slip in her hands.  A very, very familiar one.  Carefully, Harry grabbed the back of Hermione’s robes to prevent her from pouncing, and, without another word, the four made their way back to the library.  They showed the permission slip to Madam Prince, who gave them the same ultimatum as last time.

 

“So… why’d he give you a pass?” Ron asked.

 

“There was a book here about failed attempts at what he’s trying to do, so he’s seeing if he can learn from the mistakes- and he thought that you three might find something useful if worst came to worst.”

 

“I could show them the Latin chant I used on Bella?” Harry suggested, trying not to think about what “the worst” might be referring to. The thought of Daphne forgetting Wolfsbane on a full moon was…deeply worrying, and not just for the risk she would pose to everyone in the castle, but for the agony he knew Daphne would suffer.

 

“Harry, I love you, but I’m not going to use something like that if Black gets to us- namely, because I’m terrified he’ll become a monster girl of some type,” Hermione deadpanned, having apparently interpreted Daphne’s comment differently. “And that might complicate his hatred into base obsession.”

 

“Please remove these mind images immediately,” Harry answered back, as Ron ended up wandering into a section on Acromantulas.  Harry ended up walking to an aisle, and pausing.

 

“I think that this area is super restricted because it’s all about sex,” he deadpanned, now noticing the titles of the books.  “Living with a Lamia?” he asked, looking through it.

 

“A lamia’s sexual appetite is unquenchable, and haunts their dreams- dreams of what may have been, or had their lovers been a different form-” Harry read aloud, before slamming the book shut.  Well, he had even less desire to know what Bella dreamt about now.  He looked at the other books, eventually landing upon one titled ‘XXX Xs, by Newt Scamander’.  Curious, he opened the book.  The first pages were quotes from various high-up wizards, judging by the titles.  ‘Rubbish’, ‘dangerous’, ‘threatens the purity of our blood’, on and on and on.  The last one read, ‘A marvelous reading on the conscientiam monstrorum, though unfortunately does not go into details of the males of these marvelous beings’... made by Albus Dumbledore.  ‘Apologies, Professor Dumbledore, but in many cases, male members of these species are rare or do not exist’ was underneath it.  Harry knew that Scamander was the author of Fantastic Beasts.  Curious, he turned to the introduction.

 

‘I have come across many Magical Creatures throughout my travels across the world, but even as I did so, I began to notice something strange- many of these creatures had human level intelligence, even when assumed not to.  I am not including those who requested the classification of Beast, nor those that we knew of to be fully sapient but too dangerous towards humans, but many other species have shown far more intelligence… and usually, the more dangerous ones.  As I would discover, many of them were susceptible to a certain spell I was taught by a Japanese Wizard- a spell that very few know, for it had been deliberately buried in history, and ruled as the darkest of magic.  This spell was not ruled as Dark because of its terrible effects on the mind, body, or soul- but rather, because of what it could do if used en masse.  This spell turns beasts with the appropriate intelligence into a more humanoid version of themselves, capable of speech, reasoning, and interaction with humans- beings which I have dubbed ‘conscientiam monstrorum’, or aware monsters, or CM for short.  Some may be familiar to you.  Others will not.  However, one that this is common is that most, if not all Conscientiam monstrorum are exclusively female, and capable of producing viable offspring with humans, with the children being human if male, and CM if female.  This revelation prompted the thought that will likely get this book banned throughout the Wizarding World- if enough of these are created through the spell I will end this introduction with, then, over several generations, humanity as we know it will end, as our species intermarry enough so that there will be no human females, thereby consigning both us and them into an interdependent relationship for all time.  Interestingly, all offspring are magical, so this may eventually lead to the extinction of the Muggle as well.  I will tell you the spell, but be warned- this spell is beyond Unforgivable.  The official penalty for casting the spell is death.

 

-Newt Scamander

 

Addendum by Tina Scamander:  Many of you may be alarmed by the nature of the contents of this book, and believe that me and my husband would have separated.  This is not the case.  Be aware that my husband has remained faithful, and any notes on the sexual activities of said creatures were done with my explicit (and occasionally eager) consent.’

 

Harry flipped to the first page, past the rather long introduction.

 

‘Bestia uxor mea.  These three words, when cast by a witch or wizard, will create the fabulous creatures you will read through this book.  Of note- unless cast by an exceptionally powerful witch or wizard, they will only take effect if the creature is consenting to the results- usually when it is in their self-interest.  Interviews with transformed CMs (What I will refer to as ‘first generation’), have said that they are aware of what happens if they consent before the transformation… which has made me reconsider my relationship with my mother’s hippogriffs-’

 

Harry dashed over to Hermione.  “Hermione!  I found something!” he exclaimed, showing it to her.  The catgirl took the book, and read the first few pages.

 

“This… this is a fascinating spell. The implications of being able to turn nearly any sufficiently intelligent magical creature into these… ‘conscientiam monstrorums” are…intriguing,” she mused, whiskers twitching.  She then read further.  “...But Newt says that First Generations are usually executed for various reasons…”

 

Ron came over, and looked over the book, after hearing what Hermione said.  “Don’t be surprised, Hermione.  Purebloods usually see even those connected with Muggles as inferior and polluters.  Literal non humans would be seen as way worse.”

 

“How much worse?” Harry asked.

 

“From what I know from listening to my dad’s rants about the shit he overhears?  Either kept around as slave species or exterminated.”

 

“Overhears?” Hermione inquired.

 

“There’s a running joke that most backroom deals take place around his office- probably because they think he’s too busy trying to figure out light switches or can openers or fashion trends-”

 

“I’d give up on that last one, if I were you,” Hermione interjected.

 

“-But he listens.  It saved a lot of lives, back when You Know Who was running around.”

 

“Okay then… so now we have a spell more illegal than the Unforgivables… what are those?” Harry asked.

 

“They’re the three curses with the highest offense possible- lifetime in Azkaban,” Hermione explained.  “Evidently those in power decided that a brainwashing curse, a torture curse, and the instant murder curse were less dangerous then the Waifu Generating Spell,” she grumbled.

 

Harry thought about Bella, Diana, and Ari, all of whom had shown themselves to be frighteningly powerful, and largely dismissive of human laws when they got in the way of their goals. “Y’know, they might have been onto something,” he muttered.

 

“Or they were just prudes,” Ron replied. None of the others could disagree.

 

*****

 

Harry still hadn’t gotten the Firebolt back when the holidays were over, for which McGonagall was profusely apologetic about- she had made sure Flitwick was also not delaying over Quidditch rivalry.  When Christmas was over, Wood raced over to Harry.

 

“Hey, did you get a broom?” he asked.

 

“You’re not worried about the Dementors?” Hermione asked him.

 

“Well, we all saw who stepped in to save him in the game against Hufflepuff, and how she’s close to Ron, so they shouldn’t be an issue, right?”

 

“Diana was pissed about them attacking the field,” Ron agreed.

 

“Where was she while that was happening, anyways?” Woods inquired.  He then saw Ron’s blush.  “Never mind.  But did you get a broom, Harry?”

 

“I did… but McGonagall confiscated it…” Harry moped.

 

“WHAT?!” he screamed, which caused everyone to look at him oddly, before going back to their meals.  “Why?!”

 

“Because it had Sirius Black’s scent all over it, apparently,” Harry mumbled.  “And it was a Firebolt, too…”

 

“A Firebolt?!  Are you saying…”

 

“That apparently Black’s assassination attempt involved shelling out hundreds, if not thousands of galleons, to get me an international-standard broom?” Harry deadpanned.

 

“Well, I’m going to talk to her!” Woods grumbled.  “Black was a Gryffindor! Homicidal Death Eater maniac or not, there’s no way he’d ever sabotage the team!”  With that, he stormed up to the teacher’s table.

 

*****

 

What Harry really was looking forward to was learning from Lupin.  He was still a bit out of it (The full moon had come a few days ago)- and the Slytherins had gotten worse about it. Some were carrying silver- which was rubbish, according to Hermione- but the meaning was clear.  He was also receiving bones and dog treats.  It was him throwing a box of them away when Harry re-entered the room with Ron.

 

“Ah.  Harry, Ron,” He said, nodding.  His wardrobe rattled a bit.

 

“Hello, you two,” Betty called out.

 

“So you’re not planning on having a real Dementor here?” Ron asked, remembering Harry’s fear.

 

“Yes- a real dementor wouldn’t back off if Harry doesn’t get it on the first try, and since Betty’s an imitation, she’d have less of an effect compared to a regular dementor.  And I don’t think that I could recruit Diana- Royal Dementors are different from regular ones…”

 

Ron nodded.  Diana was half-human, so that would possibly complicate things a little.

 

“So, do you have that memory?” Lupin asked.  It was obvious which one it was.  Harry nodded, and he unlatched the wardrobe.  A Dementor stepped out.

 

“He’s here!  Lily, take Harry and run!”

 

“No, not Harry!  Please!  Why?!”

 

“Stand aside, woman-”

 

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry roared, the memory of knowing he’d never have to go back to the Dursley’s ringing in his mind.  The result was that the voices were muffled, like they were going through a radio.  There was a white shield in front of him, Betty poking it, but not trying to go through it.

 

“First try, too!” Lupin called out in joy.  “All right, Betty-” The dementor vanished, replaced with a full moon.  “Riddikulus!” he shouted, and the moon transformed into a rapidly deflating balloon, that flew through the air, and hit the back of the wardrobe, before Lupin closed it again.  Ron was applauding.  Harry, however… was just staring.  “Harry?”

 

“I heard them,” he whispered.  “I… I heard my parents… Dad was telling mum to run…” Harry murmured, staring at the ground.  It didn’t matter how old he was- he had never remembered his parents’ voices.  Now he had voices to the faces that were in the photo album Hagrid had given him.  Lupin just rested a hand on his shoulder in comfort.

 

*****

 

Even with that new spell, Harry’s mind was still focused on the upcoming Quidditch matches.  Ron had assured Harry that Diana was keeping a much closer eye on the Dementors this time, so there shouldn’t be much issue.  Also, Wood still continued to pester McGonagall.  At one point Harry found him clawing at her office door, and had to enlist Bella’s help to drag him back to the Common Room.  Slytherin barely eked out a win against Ravenclaw, which Wood said was good- if Gryffindor won the next game, then they’d be able to hit second place easily, and the larger score, the better.  Thus, they were drilling constantly.  Harry was pretty sure they’d gone to Hermione to try to get her to brew something to sedate Wood, or to keep them awake.  As for Daphne?  There was something she was working on, but she didn’t really tell them much, which was fair enough.  Hermione had been focusing intently on her schoolwork, but wasn’t a nervous wreck about it.

 

Harry was pretty certain the ‘destressing’ that Bella had made them do every Friday helped.

 

That lamia had become insatiable .  Apparently she had been shocked that few of their age had sired children. It had taken Hermione four hours to get her to agree to stop trying to get her knocked up by Harry—mostly because the idea was hot enough that Hermione kept getting… distracted.

 

As January became February, Harry had also started to pester the Deputy Headmistress about the broomstick.  She kept telling him that no, there wasn’t a guarantee.  Finally, after she answered him without him opening his mouth, he decided to ask Lupin about it.  He had more lessons about the Patronus, since it hadn’t been able to chase Betty away, merely hold her there.

 

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Lupin told him.  “Why, I only learned it in my sixth year, and you didn’t even need to cast it to pass,” he explained.

 

“I know, it’s just… I’m scared,” Harry admitted.  “What if it’s not good enough?  What if it breaks?”

 

Lupin nodded- that was a justifiable fear.  “In other circumstances, I’d say that you had a point.  But the fact of the matter is that, unlike in most cases, you don’t need to drive them off.  You just need to delay.”  He looked out the window.  “I met her.  Diana, that is.  Officially, after your last game.  I… I’d never thought it was possible to kill a dementor… and she did so with little effort.  There is a reason they fear her, aside from instinctual loyalty to their Monarch.  And she’s friends with benefits with your best friend.  That is… an invaluable asset to you regarding them.  And she’s… far more human then her mother.”

 

“Her… mother?” Harry asked.

 

Lupin gained a dark look.  “If there was anything that personified the worst of the Dementors, it was her.  She sided with Lord Voldemort in the last War, and was merciless.”  He clenched his wand.  “There’s a reason I’m relieved that Ron has enraptured Diana.  Against a Royal Dementor?  The Patronus is worthless.  All you can do is run .  Run, and pray that the Royal one is too preoccupied to chase.”

 

Harry gulped at that.  “Is she-”

 

“There is only one King or Queen- the child of the previous Monarch.  The crown is passed on at the death of the previous.  Not a second before or after,” Lupin said, leaving it at that.  “I don’t think she’d appreciate me telling you more.  Perhaps Ron would know more than most experts in the field, since he’s got far more access to a Royal Dementor then anyone aside from their consorts… and most of those weren’t terribly sane to begin with.”

 

*****

 

There were murmurrings the next day.  Harry slid into his seat.  “What’s going on?” he asked.

 

“The Claws got a transfer student,” Ron said.  “Got here last night, and was sorted.  People are trying to get a look at her.”

 

“Her?” Harry asked.

 

“All they know is the name and gender… and where to even start with the name?” Hermione moaned, head in her hands.  “It’s so obviously fake!”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Her name is Cho Chang.”

 

There was a long pause.  “...You’re kidding,” Harry deadpanned.

 

“Harry, I wish I was.  But no, that’s her name.  Maybe Ginny knows more?”

 

“Why would she know more?” Ron asked Hermione.

 

“Because she talks to Luna?” Harry guessed.

 

“Isn’t she that weird girl with an unhealthy obsession with imaginary-”

 

“Ron, don’t,” Ginny warned, having scooched into their group. “Seriously.”

 

“...Okay then.  Do you know anything more?”

 

“Only that she’s from mainland China.  Luna just muttered something about fake names.  Why?”

 

“Apparently her name is Cho Chang,” Harry told her.

 

Ginny didn’t even blush.  “Are you fucking serious?” she whispered.

 

“Harry wouldn’t want to shag his psychotic stalker, would he?” Fred asked.

 

“That’s a bit low, brother,” George admitted.  “And we got more info.  Snuck into the dormitory.”

 

“How?!” Hermione hissed.

 

“We have our ways,” Fred chuckled.  “She got in because the Claws’ old seeker had something of a breakdown, so she’s replacing him.”

 

“Define breakdown?”

 

“Opened the wrong book in the library and saw things no human was ever meant to see. He’s mostly been screaming about the unknowable horrors lurking in the gaps between the stars since then, so he quit the team.”

 

Harry decided he didn’t want to know.  “Anything else?”

 

“Apparently she’s not human.”

 

There was a long pause.  “Seriously?” Harry asked.

 

“How?!” Ron exclaimed.  “To get a transfer student, the Board of Governors has to approve, and there’s no way they’d allow a non-human in!”

 

“Beats me,” George admitted.  Then, there was rustling.  “Oh, here she comes.”  Harry turned, and was…

 

…Well, not unimpressed, at least.  She was tall, yes, and had a nice rack- two of them, to be exact.  One above her head and one below.  Her ears were deer ears, and she moved with grace, eventually settling down at the Ravenclaw table.  Her fur was pure white as well, and showed remarkable cleanliness.

 

“Huh,” Bella said.  “I thought they were afraid of showing themselves, after the Song Dynasty declared them a delicacy.  Are they still in power?”

 

“China’s no longer a Monarchy,” Ron told Bella.

 

“So it’s like modern Britain?”

 

Every muggleborn or muggle-raised student burst out laughing at that.

 

“No,” Hermione said, wiping a tear from her cheek.  “I’ll explain later.”

 

*****

 

For all that she’d changed immensely over the past year, Daphne did occasionally find an opportunity to remind everyone of the fact that she had been raised to become a master of political negotiation.

 

She just hadn’t expected to be negotiating for…well, this.

 

Eerie, snakelike green eyes twinkled with amusement as Daphne held herself stiffly, awaiting a response she hoped desperately would be an agreement. 

 

It wasn’t. “Sssso, you require my… milk?” Bella asked, her deep green coils winding and undulating as she pulled in closer to Daphne.

 

Daphne nodded weakly, hands clenched into fists in her lap. She and Bella were sitting in an empty, unused classroom—the perfect arena for a clandestine trade.

 

“Yeah,” Daphne said slowly. “Professor Snape has an idea for a new version of Wolfsbane, but it needs a few ingredients like…well. That.”

 

Bella’s tongue flickered as she considered it. “An intriguing idea, wolf-girl,” she said. “However, I am well aware of Severus’s… past, and I hope that my reluctance to give him access to such a powerful substance is…understandable, yes?”

 

Daphne blinked. “So…is that a no?” she asked, feeling a ripple of despair pass through her.

Bella’s lips slowly curved upwards. A basilisk’s smile was a terrifying thing, loaded with promise and menace in equal parts. 

 

“Hmm…no, I do not believe it is,” she declared. “It simply means that I will require an appropriate… trade, so to speak.”

 

Those green eyes seemed to glow. Daphne still hadn’t forgotten speaking with Bella in Dumbledore’s office, the day she was re-sorted. She hadn’t forgotten the basilisk’s blunt, straightforward voice informing her that Bella would kill her if Daphne ever failed to control her transformation. 

 

Daphne really shouldn’t have found that reminder as comforting as she did—the knowledge that those glowing green eyes hovered over her like an executioner’s axe, that one mistake would lead to her being killed by someone she’d come to consider a friend—but she did. It didn’t make the prospect of negotiating for a basilisk’s breast milk any less surreal, though.

 

“O-okay,” Daphne said, allowing her old pureblooded negotiation skills to rise to the fore. “What do you want?”

 

Bella flicked her tongue thoughtfully. “Hmm,” she pondered. “So many intriguing possibilities…oh! Perhaps I should ask for a measure of your breast milk in exchange!”

 

Daphne fought the urge to bring her hands to her chest. “I, uh—” she started to say, blushing furiously, “I don’t…make any? I don’t lactate, I mean.”

 

Bella pouted. “Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed. “Boo. Well, I suppose that’s a fixable problem, if you find a suitable male to impregnate you—”

 

Daphne let out a loud, agonized noise somewhere between a hacking cough and a horrified squeal. “S-something else,” she wheezed, fighting for control of herself. “Trade for something else, please.”

 

Daphne wasn’t sure if she was so against the trade offer because she didn’t like the idea of potentially waiting months for access to a potion that might change her life forever…or if she was against it because she knew immediately that the only person she’d ever consider a “suitable male” for her was Harry Potter, and she really didn’t want to let herself get sucked further down into the mess of her feelings than she already had been. Either way, Bella’s smirk remained just as merciless as ever. The more she talked to the basilisk, the more Daphne understood just what it meant that this girl had been the daughter of Salazar Slytherin himself. 

 

“No?” the lamia purred, still undulating as she slowly wound her way closer to Daphne. “Very well. I have… another proposal. One that I think you will very much enjoy.”

 

Daphne tried not to shudder at the tone of Bella’s voice. “Shoot,” she said.

 

Bella leaned in close, filling Daphne’s vision with her gorgeous features and absurdly perfect tits.  “As you are no doubt aware, I spend quite a bit of time nowadays engaged in sexual congress with Harry and Hermione,” she said smugly, making Daphne start to choke on air. “The next time we do so, I would like for you to be there, Daphne.”

 

Daphne couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even think. All she could do was desperately choke out, “I-I-I…I can’t…I w-won’t…I don’t…”

 

Bella laughed. Her hand was on Daphne’s thigh now, and Daphne didn’t think she’d survive another touch from the lamia’s smooth, flawless skin. 

 

“Oh, don’t get such foolish ideas, wolf-girl,” she said easily, clearly knowing exactly what was going on in Daphne’s mind at that moment. “You would not be involved in our lovemaking. You haven’t earned enough of my trust to be allowed to touch my beloveds in such a way. But you have earned enough that I am willing to let you watch.”

 

Daphne couldn’t hear anything anymore, except the roaring thunder of her heart pounding in her chest. Her scarred cheek stung, flushed red in shame and eager desire.

 

“W-watch,” she repeated dumbly. “You want me to… watch.”

 

Bella nodded. “And in exchange, I shall grant you what you wish,” she added helpfully. Even more helpfully, she jiggled her breasts in her hands, reminding Daphne exactly what potions ingredient she was asking for.

 

Daphne was completely, utterly still and silent. Her mind, though, was racing. Was she really willing to do this? Was she desperate enough to go along with such an insane, depraved thing in order to get the last thing she needed in order to change her life for the better?

 

Perhaps that was the wrong question. Perhaps she should be asking herself if she could keep living the way she was living—as a beast, as an infected victim, someone who could never be fully trusted, could never be loved, could never be touched.

 

Daphne knew the answer to that question already. She’d known it since the moment she put on the Sorting Hat for the second time.

 

“Okay,” she whispered. “Deal.”

 

Bella’s smile was a terrifying thing in victory, broad and bright and utterly without mercy.

“Excellent,” she purred. “The next time Harry and Hermione make love, I will bring you—and then you shall receive your milk, wolf-girl.”

 

With that, Bella rose, and slithered from the room, leaving a hollow, cold space where she’d been. 

 

Daphne closed her eyes, and hoped desperately that maybe this mad thing she’d agreed to wouldn’t be too awkward.

 

Oh, who was she kidding? This was gonna be so fucking awkward.

Chapter 29

Chapter by ColdLuigi

Notes:

As always, chapters appear at the funniest possible time, and no other.

Harry found Professor McGonagall waiting on the steps, a look of pure relief on her face… and she was carrying something.

 

“Professor… is that…”

 

“Flitwick finished going over it,” she said.  “And he said he managed to prevent himself from jinxing or damaging it so he’d have something to remove, delaying the return,” she added.

 

“...Wood’s perspective isn’t uncommon, is it?” Harry asked.

 

“No, it’s not.  But regardless, you have a very, very generous friend, Mr. Potter,” she said, handing the Firebolt over to him.  He took it with great relish.  “And don’t break it.  I want to see you drive the Snakes into the ground with it,” she declared.  “And good thing too- it’s only a week until the next match, and, as Severus was so polite to let me know, we have to win the next game or we’ll be out of the running for the 8th year in a row.  And he seemed at least a little upset about that- said that he wanted Slytherin to take our hopes and dreams from us directly.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, and the professor left for wherever she usually went.  Ron was nearby, and he excitedly told him.

 

“That’s great!” he said.  “Diana said she’ll be keeping a close eye on the match to make sure that it isn’t interrupted-” he began, before they saw Neville sitting by the common room door.

 

“Don’t listen to him… he’s just a bitch…” he was muttering to himself.

 

“I say, loon!  I am not a female dog!” Sir Cadogan declared, trying to stab Neville.

 

“...Neville?” Harry asked.

 

“Huh?  O-oh!  S-sorry… was just repeating something someone told me to say…” he muttered, blushing.

 

“...To cuss the portrait of the madman?” Ron deadpanned.

 

“...Actually s- they said that those that were messing me were just bitches.”

 

“She?” Harry guessed.

 

“Do you have a girlfriend now, Neville?” Ron asked.

 

“W-well… u-uh… can you let me in?  I had a list of passwords but I accidentally picked up a blank piece of parchment instead!” he told them frantically.  “And he keeps changing them all the time!”

 

Before they could say anything else, the door was opened, Hermione looking frantic.  “Ron- oh, there you are,” she said.

 

“Yeah?  What’s wrong?” he asked.  “And the Firebolt checked out.”

 

Hermione let out a sigh of relief, before getting nervous.  “Crookshanks was angry today… said that the ‘rat bastard’ bit himself and ran.  I can’t find Scabbers!”  She moved aside as Ron moved into the dorm, looking around furiously.  Harry, meanwhile, was bombarded with random questions about the Firebolt- people asking to use it, if he’d used it, bragging how it was better then the Ravenclaw brooms, etcetera.  This took about five minutes.  By the time he was done, Ron was staring dumbly at his bed.  Hermione was also there.

 

“Ron?” she whispered.

 

“Did Crookshanks say he ate Scabbers?” he whispered, voice low and with poison.

 

“N-no…”

 

“Does he lie to you?” Ron asked slowly.

 

“...No?”

 

“Ron, what is-” Harry finally saw it.  Blood on the sheets.  There was the sound of Bella entering as well, and she looked at the scene as well.

 

Ron was struggling to keep his temper in check.  “Because if he’s lying, then he ate Scabbers.”

 

Bella then leaned down, and her tongue came out.  “This is about an hour old,” she stated.  “And I know that I had spent the last two hours cuddling with him.  There’s an alibi for him.”  And speak of the devil, and he shall appear.  Crookshanks leapt onto the bed, and hissed at the blood.

 

“Hermione?”

 

“Coward, asshole, bastard, cunt-munching-” she began, translating.  “Crookshanks, did you eat him?” she asked.  There was a meow and a hiss.  “Okay, either he’s saying that he’d die of indigestion if he ate that… well… the insults go on for a while… or he’s saying something about pancakes and blueberry pies.”

 

“...Right, accent,” Harry muttered.

 

*****

 

Even with the fact that it seemed like, in spite of all evidence to the contrary, Scabbers hadn’t been devoured, Ron was still in a sad mood.  Harry didn’t say he really could sympathize- he’d never had a pet before, so he’d never lost one either, but he was certain it must feel horrible.  Hermione was also feeling guilty about it, but said that Crookshanks was upset about not getting, in her words, ‘that rat bastard’.  Though the two of them were much more mature then most would have thought they’d be, which was appreciated immensely by Harry, who knew he’d have been caught in the middle.  What was also appreciated by Harry was the Quidditch practice before the Ravenclaw game.  He invited Ron, so he’d feel better.  Of course, when Ron arrived, a certain dementor ended up landing by them.

 

“Hi, Diana,” Ron said, smiling.  “What’re you doing here?”

 

“I wanted to watch,” she said, nodding at Harry.

 

“...I never got to say thanks-” he began.

 

“You don’t have to.  It was my fault they got too close-”

 

“You still saved me,” Harry said.  “Thank you.”  Diana seemed to get watery eyes, and nodded, a smile on her face.  She then sat next to Ron, who let her lean on his shoulder.  Harry heard skittering and saw Ari in drider form nearby, though she was just smiling softly.  He was brought out of his musings when Madam Hooch came over- she was overseeing the practice so she could keep an eye on Harry, and also so she could see the firebolt.  She was just as impressed with it as everyone else had been.  And then she started to prattle off information on it.

 

“Oh, the balance is excellent!  If the Nimbus series has a fault, it’s a slight list to the tail end, which gives them a drag after a few years- though considering the practice of planned obsolescence, that may be intentional.  It’s a bit slimmer than the cleansweeps, which reminds me of the Silver Arrows… God, I miss those brooms.  I learned to fly on one of them, and now they’re no longer made-” Harry was pretty sure that she would’ve gone on for longer, before Wood cleared his throat.

 

“Um, Professor?  Can Harry have his broom back?  We need to practice…”

 

“Huh?  Oh, right,” Hooch said.  “Here you are, Potter.  I’ll go sit near-” she noticed Diana.  “...A bit aways from Mr Weasley…” She took a long path, which made Diana slump a little, before Ron gave her a comforting pat on the back.

 

“Okay everyone, kick off in three, two, one…”

 

And with that, Harry took to the skies on the Firebolt.  It was better then he’d dreamed.  It turned with the lightest touch- in fact, it almost seemed to be responding to his thoughts then his touch.  He sped across the pitch with lightning speed, doing a full lap of it, laughing the whole time.  The whole stadium was a blur.  Then he shot straight up, amazed that he wasn’t feeling strain.  Then he turned into a deep dive, and pulled up so close to the ground that he was able to brush his feet on the grass.  He was on this level when Wood called out for him.

 

“Harry, I’m letting the Snitch out!”

 

He turned, outran a bludger with ease, saw the Snitch dart out from behind Wood, and within ten seconds, he’d caught it.  The team started cheering madly, Ron and Diana clapping in the background.  Then, after Harry let it go, he gave it a minute’s head start, but soon saw it by Katie Bell’s knee.  He looped easily, and caught it again.

 

Simply put, it was the best practice they’d ever had.  It was as if the Firebolt’s mere presence made them do better.  Their best moves were performed without flaw.  Their most complex passes?  Perfect.  It was like they’d been blessed.  In fact, when they were done, Wood had no criticisms- a first, according to Fred and George.  Diana was laying on her back when he landed by Ron.

 

“So… full…” she mumbled.  “Gonna have to pace myself tomorrow… can’t move…”

 

Well, that spoke volumes of the morale of the team.  Wood came over.  “So, aside from her, will there be any dementors on the pitch?” he asked.

 

“...Nope.  I’ve threatened them with death if they so much as sip from the crowd,” Diana hiccuped.

 

“Thank you,” he said to her.  Diana gave a thumbs up, as Ron finally got his turn on the Firebolt.  Harry let him go for a while, before Diana let out a colossal belch, and was able to stand back up.

 

“Woooo!  Haven’t felt that much concentrated ecstasy in… I don’t even know!”

 

“Not even during orgasm?” Ari teased.

 

“That’s one person.  Seven deliriously happy people?  I must have a light stomach… gonna need to work on that.”

 

“Oh, you know it.  It’s got to be nice and big to handle my husband,” Ari whispered lecherously.  After that, Diana mostly followed Ron, so she could catch him if he fell, which was touching, in Harry’s mind.  Finally, after Madam Hooch woke up from the nap she’d been having after the first half of practice, she told the two students off for not waking her, and they marched up into the castle.  Diana split off by the doors, waved, and they went back to the Common Room.  They passed by Crookshanks, who rubbed against Ron’s legs in an affectionate way, before heading outside.

 

“It’s hard to stay mad at him,” Ron admitted.  “Though it can get annoying…”

 

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

 

“He’s also been staring at me a lot- watching my every move.  If I didn’t know any better, he’s trying to claim me as his own or something.”

 

*****

 

Harry went down to breakfast with the rest of the boys in the dormitory, who seemed to think the Firebolt deserved a guard of honor.  Bella was right by his left side, and Hermione to the right.  As he entered the Great Hall, heads turned towards the Firebolt in shock.  The Slytherins all looked utterly thunderstruck.  Draco looked particularly horrified.  As they passed, Harry couldn’t help but rub it in.

 

“This cost more then the brooms you bribed Flint with,” he told him.  “Gonna try to buy seven for the team next year so you stay on?” With that, he sat down, and began to eat.  Cedric was the next to come over.

 

“Hey, Cedric,” Harry said.

 

“Hey… I’m glad you got a broom,” his rival seeker said.  “A few of us were wondering if we’d have to start a donation drive…”

 

“Seriously?” Ron asked.

 

“It didn’t sit right with us that he lost it like that,” Cedric explained.

 

Harry was genuinely touched by that.

 

“Helga would be so proud of you all,” Bella said, smiling softly.  “You are exemplary in following her ideals.”  Cedric blushed a little, and went back to the Badger’s table.  Then Penelope Clearwater came over.

 

“Hey… can I hold it?” She asked.  Harry let her do so.  Percy was right by her.

 

“Now, now, Penny!  No sabotage!” he teased.  “We have a bet- ten galleons on the match’s outcome!”  Penelope then set the broom down, and went back to the table.  “Harry, please win.  I haven’t got ten galleons!” he whispered, panic evident, before heading back to his seat.

 

“Did you send the venom back?” Harry asked Ron.

 

“Yeah… Mum said she’s buying everyone new things and getting the house cleaned up a bit…” Ron answered.  “And buying back some farmland the family’s sold over the past few generations…”  Bella then scowled, and Harry saw why.  Draco and his goons were walking over.

 

“Sure you can manage that broom, Potter?” he sneered.

 

“I reckon so,” Harry said calmly.

 

“Got plenty of special features, hasn’t it?” Malfoy asked, eyes glittering maliciously.  “Shame it doesn't come with a parachute- in case you get too near a dementor.”  Crabbe and Goyle sniggered in the background.

 

“Shame your broom doesn’t have an extra pair of arms.  Then it could catch the Snitch for you.  God knows you need the help,” Harry shot back.  There was a pause, before he stormed back to the rest of the Slytherin team, as the Lions laughed at him.  They began to mutter something together, which made Harry a little nervous, especially when Hermione’s ears went flat.

 

“Hermione?” Ron asked.

 

“They’re plotting to break it,” she hissed.  Bella wrapped her tail around him.

 

*****

 

The teams made their way to the pitch at a quarter until 11.  The weather was the polar opposite of the Ravenclaw game.  It was clear, sunny, and the breeze was incredibly light.  Perfect flying weather.

 

“Okay, remember everyone- just fly like we did in practice,” Wood told them.  They walked onto the pitch to tremendous applause.  Harry saw Diana in a shaded area.  He waved, and she waved back.  The Ravenclaw team entered.  Cho was obvious- not only was she the only girl on the team, her horns made her distinct.  While she wasn’t a bipedal deer, she had plenty of fur in places- especially around her legs.  She didn’t have hooves, though.  She smiled at Harry, who smiled back fondly- a promise that he’d not judge her for anything other then her skills.

 

“Wood, Davies, shake hands,” Madam Hood said briskly, and Wood shook hands with the Ravenclaw Captain.

 

“We’re not the Snakes.  It’ll be a fair game,” Davies said with conviction.

 

With that, Hooch began to count down.  “Mount your brooms… on my whistle… three… two… one…” the whistle blew, and Harry kicked off far faster than anyone else.  He soared around the stadium, doing laps- looking for the Snitch, as we watched the team go.  Just like the practice, the team was inspired by his broom.  He also took the time to listen to Lee Jordan’s commentary.  To his amusement, Lee couldn’t help also commenting on the Firebolt, much to Professor McGonagall’s exasperation.  Harry streaked past Katie in the opposite direction, making her pursuers scatter.  Cho was right behind him, trying to keep up.  Harry hoped she wouldn’t use those horns of hers.  She was proving her worth, for sure.

 

“Show her your acceleration, Harry!” Fred yelled, heading for a bludger heading for Alicia.  Harry did so, and watched as the Lions scored their first goal, causing the Red side of the field to go wild.  Then, he saw it.  The Snitch was right by one of the barriers.  He dived- Cho followed after him.  He lived diving.  He got closer… closer… ten feet-

 

-And then a bludger nearly took his head off.  He had to swerve to avoid it, the Ravenclaw beater having a perfect sense of timing.  And in those few seconds, the snitch had managed to disappear.  George made his feelings apparent when he sent the other bludger directly at the offending Beater, who had to roll in the air to avoid it.

 

“Gryffindor leads eighty to zero- look at that Firebolt go!” Lee was exclaiming.  “ Potter’s really putting it through it’s paces now- look at that turn!  Chang’s Comet is just no match for it, even with her skill.  The Firebolt’s precision-balance is really noticeable in these long-”

 

“JORDAN!  ARE YOU PAID FOR ADVERTISEMENTS?!  EITHER FORK OVER HALF OF IT OR GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!” Professor McGonagall screamed.  Ravenclaw proceeded to score a few goals, adding thirty points against the Gryffindor’s 80, meaning that they weren’t ahead enough for Harry.  Then, he saw a glint of gold by the Gryffindor goalpost.  He dropped into a ninety-degree dive, not wasting a moment, before leveling out at the Snitch’s altitude.  Cho appeared by him, blocking him.  Harry would’ve appreciated the view, but he already had a girlfriend- two, at that.  He moved ahead, pushing his broom, before she screamed.  Harry looked down, and was in shock- there were three dementors on the field.  He pulled out his wand (He’d stored it on his person) and, thinking of that moment when he’d never have to go back to Number 4, bellowed, “Expecto Patronum!”  Something silver-white- and enormous- erupted from the end of his wand.  He didn’t watch- he couldn’t watch.  He was amazed that his mind was still clear, and pushed himself further.  He slid ahead, reached out… THERE!  His hand clasped around the Snitch.  Immediately, Madam Hooch’s whistle sounded.  Harry turned in midair to see six red and scarlet blurs slam into him- the hugs nearly knocked him off of his broom.  The chasers- Alicia, Angelina, and Katie began kissing him.

 

“That’s my boy!” Wood was yelling.  Fred and George were gripping him tightly.  The crowd was going wild.  As one blob, they managed to make their way to the ground.

 

“YES!” Ron was roaring.  “YES!”

 

“Good for you, Harry!” Seamus hollered.

 

“Ten galleons to me!  I must find Penelope… excuse me…” Harry heard Percy say.  Hagrid was clapping as well.  Harry heard him mention telling Aragog, but didn’t hear much more, until he saw Lupin by him.

 

“That was quite the Patronus,” he said warmly.

 

“They didn’t affect me at all!  How’d they even get on the pitch?” Harry asked, unable to keep his two questions from being part of a single sentence.

 

“They… er… weren’t dementors,” Professor Lupin explained, dragging him over to where they were- Diana was there, bone crown on full display, and she did NOT look happy.

 

“You gave Mr. Malfoy quite a fright,” Lupin chuckled.  Sure enough, the ‘dementors’ were Malfoy, Goyle, Crabbe, and Marcus Flint.  Malfoy had been on Goyle’s shoulders from the look of it.  All three were shivering as Diana let her aura freeze the area around her.

 

“I spent the entire time making sure my subjects don’t DARE to interfere, and you four… try to make my authority look anything less than unquestionable," she hissed.  She dragged Draco up to her face, and Harry saw a wet spot on his pants, which quickly began to freeze.  That couldn’t have been comfortable.

 

“Give me ONE reason I shouldn’t Kiss you right now,” she hissed, steam exiting her mouth.  “I don’t care how rotten your soul is-”

 

“Your Majesty!” Lupin called out.  She turned, and Harry had to fight to not be afraid.  Dumbledore was rapidly approaching as well.  “Please don’t.”  Her furious form flickered, before she let out a sigh, and dropped him like a sack of potatoes.

 

“I wasn’t going to anyways… just remind him who he’s pissing off,” she growled.  Draco looked like he was going to open his mouth, but McGonnagall beat him to it.

 

“Detention.  For ALL of you.  And fifty points from Slytherin.  EACH!” she snarled.  Draco turned to look at Harry, and almost opened his mouth, before Dumbledore’s voice rose.

 

“Mister Malfoy,” he said sternly.  “You attempted to cripple the opposing team, in a way that would apparently undermine the authority of the Dementor Monarch.  Be very, VERY fortunate that Queen Diana is more merciful than most- assuming she’s honest about not even planning on devouring your soul.”

 

“I was, Headmaster,” Diana said simply, arms crossed.  “This is the second time I’ve had to step in when he acts up.  If there is a third, then I will drag him to your office through the air,” she stated.  “And no, I won’t Kiss him then, either.”

 

*****

 

There was a party afterwards.  The entire Common Room was full of partying students.  Fred and George disappeared for a while, before coming back with several bags of Honeydukes sweets- some questioned how they pulled it off, but Harry knew.  He shot them a meaningful smile, and the twins winked.  Diana showed up as well, leaning against the window.  A few people waved, and she waved back.  She didn’t ask to come in, and seemed… if not happy, then content to be there.  Ron ended up talking to her for a while, before dragging her in through the window to his bed, Ari literally diving in after the two.  There was no reason to wonder what they were doing there.  A few Muggleborn students then introduced them to Butterbeer pong, and things just spiraled from there.  The party only ended when Professor McGonagall turned up in her tartan dressing gown and hair net at one in the morning.

 

“You need to get to bed!” she scolded them.  “And you didn’t even invite me!  For shame!” she scolded.

 

“That’s why you’re up here?” Percy asked.

 

“Yes!  And- no.  No, you didn’t,” she hissed, eyes locked on the beer pong area.  “You LEFT ME OUT?!” she screamed.

 

“You know what that is?” Harry asked.

 

“Yes!  I was the reigning champion for years!  How dare you not invite me!  New rule!  Invite me when you throw a party!  Now!  Bed!”  Well, that was that, and they went off to bed.  Bella was curled up to him, and he fell asleep.

 

*****

 

Meanwhile, in the next bed over, behind a set of silenced curtains, Ron Weasley’s night was only just beginning.

 

As it turned out, Diana had gotten very worked up by the drama with Malfoy, and had decided that the best way to blow off some steam was with Ron and Ari. As it also turned out, Diana had never been on the receiving end of oral sex before. 

 

When Ari had heard that, she’d dragged Diana down and literally slammed her over Ron’s face, her clacking mandibles ordering him to “Serve your Queen!”

 

Ron knew enough by now to know that when Ari used that tone, he listened. He’d set to work on Diana with a vengeance—and if he was enjoying the knowledge that the girl shrieking as her whole body shook atop him was a monstrous soul-sucking abomination, well, that was his business, wasn’t it?

 

Unfortunately for him, Ron’s feast was interrupted by the sound of his bedspread being ripped.  Diana, who he was currently enthralling with his… mastery of his tongue, let out a whine as he paused.  He saw what was doing it.  A knife.  Slowly, as Ari let her mouth work him over (God, he loved mandibles), the two watched as the knife slowly went down.  Ron couldn’t help but do some wriggling, which made her breath hitch, as the cut was torn away, revealing…

 

No.  No, this couldn’t be happening.  He was frozen, eyes wide, as the face of Sirius motherfucking Black stared down at him.  The two looked at each other for a moment- a heartbeat that stretched for an hour.  

 

“Well, shit,” Ron thought. “Guess I had a good run.”

 

And then the terrifying, half-mad mass murderer spoke.

 

“Ah, shit, wrong bed,” he muttered, wincing as his eyes flicked from Ron to Ari to Diana and back. “Well, this is awkward. I’ll, uh, come back later—bro code, y’know? Also, nice work, kid—two girls at once!”

 

And then he bolted.  Diana let out a screech and tumbled off of Ron, landing with a ‘thump’ on the floor. Ari was already lunging for the curtains—whether she was trying to cover them back up or chase after Sirius Black, Ron wasn’t sure.

 

Either way, it didn’t change what Ron did next. Which was scream his fucking head off in sheer pants-shitting terror.

Chapter 30

Chapter by The_Plauge_Dragon

Summary:

Cockblocking, Cuck Chairs, and Snitty Milk. Oh, also The En-fluffehning.

Harry was awoken from a dream about Bella trying to put on a slingshot bikini with her lamia tail by Ron’s scream.  He shot upright, saw a moving figure, and then saw Diana stumble out of the bed.  She was stark naked.  She then screeched in a way that made sure every Gryffindor was now wide awake, before racing off.

 

“GET BACK HERE YOU COCKBLOCKING MONSTER!” she screeched, a trail of ice following her.  Ron was sitting up, face wet, as Ari poked her head out of the bed as well.  Harry realized she was naked too.

 

“Ron?  What…” he trailed off.  Ron was panting, and wiping off that fluid from his mouth.

 

“H-he was here!  Sirius Black!” he whimpered.  “H-he had a knife-” Dean lit his lamp, hissing at the cold, before the light showed that yes, the curtains were slashed.  That explained how they’d heard.  “Back me up, Ari!” he pleaded.

 

Ariana nodded.  “There was a man here- I think Diana’s chasing him.”

 

Well, that was all Harry needed.  He leapt out of bed, and hurriedly threw on some robes, before getting into the common room, where many were lingering, confused.  They’d been awoken by the screech.

 

“What was that?” Fred asked, putting a finger in his ear.

 

“Diana’s chasing after Sirius Black, who apparently broke into the dormitory,” Harry hastily explained.  “He had a knife.”

 

The twins got deadly serious in an instant.

 

“Get McGonagall,” Fred told George, who nodded resolutely, and sprinted out of the dormitory.  Fred, meanwhile, grabbed Ron, and started checking him over.  “Did he hurt you?” he asked, serious as the grave.

 

“N-no,” Ron stammered, his underwear only barely on.

 

“Did he try to hurt you?”

 

“No- he said he had the wrong bed…”

 

“Who had the wrong bed?” the Deputy Headmistress asked, having been dragged by George into the common room.  “And why has one of the Weasley Twins decided that a teacher is needed?!”

 

“Sirius Black broke into the common room,” Fred stated.  George nodded.

 

“What?!”

 

“Diana’s chasing after him… he tore open my curtains…” Ron got out.  It was then that Diana phased through the floor, cold radiating around her.

 

“He got away,” she hissed.  “Somehow, I stopped sensing him.”

 

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” McGonagall said, face pale.  “What… what happened?”

 

“He… he cut through the sheet…”

 

“He interrupted our fun!” Ari complained. She was in full drider form, eight and a half feet of enraged, menacing spider-woman, clearly not bothered in the slightest about her nudity  A few of her legs were stomping on the ground.  Diana nodded. Somehow, the Queen of the Damned’s own nudity was even more intimidating, revealing how her limbs really did end in hazy clouds of swirling mist when she didn’t consciously choose otherwise.

 

“...Oh.  I see… you can leave that part out then,” Professor McGonagall said.

 

“He spoke to me,” Ron added.

 

“What did he say?” Harry asked him.

 

Ron flushed. “He, uh, said he had the wrong bed,” he admitted. “Also told me good job on the whole “two girls at once” thing.”

 

The House Head snorted, before composing herself.  “Wrong bed?”

 

“He must’ve been after me,” Harry realized.  Bella, who had thrown on some undergarments for her upper half, slithered in and coiled around Harry protectively.

 

“At the risk of sounding like I’d put you in danger, Mr. Potter, I daresay it may have been more preferable that he get the right bed,” she said, noting Bella.  “But… how did he… SIR CADOGAN!” she bellowed, grappling the painting and slamming it at the wall.  “Did you let someone in who WASN’T a staff member or a student?!”

 

“Y-yes, my lady,” the knight stammered.  “H-he had all the passwords… r-rattled them off of a list.”

 

Harry and Ron’s breath hitched.

 

“A… list?” Minerva whispered, voice deadly cold.

 

“U-uh… yes!  A piece of parchment…”  As if everyone knew, they all turned to Neville, who whimpered.

 

“B-but… it never got out of the Common Room… I lost it on the table…” he squeaked out.

 

*****

 

Harry, personally, didn’t blame Neville.  Others had, though.  He was banned from Hogsmeade visits for the rest of the year, and wasn’t allowed to know the password.  The Fat Lady was returned, having been expertly restored.  Bella had been put in front of her, much to her displeasure.  Personally, Harry preferred her over anything else- he knew how dangerous she could be, after all.  That, and she understood that it wasn’t Neville’s fault, so she let him in when he was there- or spoke the password for him.  Filch was nailing up every single hole he could find.  The front doors were taught to recognize Sirius.  Ron was suddenly more famous then Harry.

 

“Now that I know a fraction of what you have to deal with, I’ve decided that I hate it,” Ron told him.

 

“Thank you,” Harry replied.

 

“He must’ve recognized Diana,” Ron mused.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Diana said they’d met.  Odds are that he bolted because she was there,” he said.  “But how did he get away?”

 

“It wasn’t the passages,” Harry mused.  “Remember what Diana said?  How she could track souls?”

 

Ron nodded.  “Is there a way to hide yourself from dementors?”

 

Harry shrugged, as they walked to Care of Magical Creatures.  As they did, however, Ron paused, jaw dropping.

 

“What is it?” Harry asked.  Ron pointed, and suddenly, he understood.  Neville was sitting under the whomping willow- leaning against the tree.

 

“Neville!” Harry shouted, running towards him, before the branches began to sway threateningly.

 

“Oh… Hi Harry,” Neville said sadly.  The branches weren’t going near him.

 

“Neville… how… why…” Ron began, staying away from the angry tree.

 

“Oh… well… I just know my way.  I think it likes me,” he said, smiling.  “About the only one that does…”

 

“It’s not your fault, Neville,” Harry called.  “I know that.”

 

“I still was the one who-” they saw an owl approaching, carrying a scarlet letter.  “Oh no.”  At once, the tree began to swat at the intruder- the owl weaved and bobbed, managing to drop the letter in Neville’s lap.  He threw it aside, and the Willow started to bring its branches down as Harry heard Neville’s grandmother.

 

“-Dissapointment to your-”

 

WHAM

 

“-You nearly undid-”

 

WHAM

 

“Maybe Algie was right to try to-”

 

The tree then proceeded to slam down on the howler with a machinegun-like rapidity, censoring everything else that came out.  Neville, however, was sobbing.  Harry was stunned at the sheer abuse that his friend had been subjected to.  Even Mrs. Weasley’s howler hadn’t implied that Ron was better off dead!  He was so horrified that he crossed the area where the tree could hit him.  But it didn’t.  He eventually reached Neville, realising that he had been in smacking range about halfway through.

 

“That’s a horrible thing to say,” he told his friend.  Neville sniffled.  “You’re our friend, Neville.”  Harry just sat next to him, leaning against the tree.  Neville just cried.  “Why did you decide to come here?”

 

“...’m safe here,” the Third Year whispered.  “The Snakes don’t get close… I can study.”

 

“And the tree doesn’t…” Harry began, as the branches loomed.

 

“No… the Willow’s… nice to me,” he said.  “Lets me get close…”

 

“It didn’t let my broom get close,” Harry grumbled.  In response, one of the thick limbs came down and…

 

…Did the Whomping Willow just give him a noogie?!

 

*****

 

That night, Harry found himself and Hermione once again summarily dragged into bed by Bella.

That by itself wasn’t all that strange. It happened most nights now, in fact; Bella had both a way around the gender wards in the dorms, and an absolutely insatiable libido. It was normal enough that the moment Harry’s curtains opened, he wasn’t surprised at all when Hermione pounced on top of him, her ears twitching as she purred happily.

 

What was strange, however, was the fact that tonight, Bella had brought a guest along.

When the curtains around Harry’s bed had been closed again and he finally saw Daphne sitting on the corner of his bed, he went very, very stiff—and not the kind of stiff that Hermione being on top of him usually resulted in.

 

“Uh, Bella?” he asked slowly. “Why is she here?”

 

Hermione’s head jerked up as well, her feline gaze landing on Daphne, whose arms tightened even further around herself. The scarred blonde pureblood couldn’t meet either of their eyes, her head half-turned and her huddled form seeming to become as small as possible.

 

Bella, of course, absolutely radiated sultry confidence as she snaked her way into the bed, her coils draping over Hermione and Harry as one of her hands trailed up Daphne’s neck to cup her chin.

 

“Oh, it is quite simple, Harry,” the basilisk lamia replied, her green eyes glowing eerily. “The wolf-girl and I have struck a deal.”

 

Harry and Hermione shared an uneasy glance. “What kind of deal, exactly?” Hermione asked.

 

Bella’s smile only grew. “Daphne is working on a…special project of sorts,” she said, her tongue flickering as she spoke. “And for this project, she requires a certain…ingredient. Specifically, my breast milk. So, in exchange for it…she has agreed to watch tonight.”

 

Harry went very, very quiet. Hermione…did not. But her objection was not what Harry expected it to be.

 

“Breast milk?” she demanded, her voice rising into a catlike hiss. “You make breast milk and you didn’t tell me?”

 

Bella continued to radiate smug confidence, but Harry got the sense that she was a little taken aback by Hermione’s vehemence. “Why so upset, little kitten?” she asked.

 

Hermione was making grabby motions with her hands, like she was swatting at a toy. “I am literally a cat!” she snarled. “I fucking love milk! And you’re telling me that my hot snake girlfriend with giant tits has had milk this entire time, and you haven’t let me drink it? Give!”

 

Bella let out a deep, sultry laugh. “Tell you what, little kitten,” she crooned, leaning over as she threw an arm around the still-awkward Daphne, who tried even harder to squirm away from Bella’s unfairly perfect tits as they squished against the side of her head. “Do exactly what I tell you tonight, and you can have alllll the milk you want.”

 

Hermione blinked, suddenly not quite as enthusiastic as before. Mostly because both she and Harry knew that “doing exactly what Bella said” was a good way to end up fucked into a coma, pregnant, or both. Sure, Bella tended to end up in charge in bed anyway, but letting her direct things from the beginning was how Hermione had discovered what a snake tongue felt like in places she really hadn’t ever thought it was possible for a snake tongue to be.

 

But still…snitty milk. A compelling argument, for sure.

 

Still straddling Harry, Hermione sighed. “Fine,” she said, before her gaze shifted to Daphne again. “You’re… really gonna watch?”

 

She sounded distinctly uneasy about that. Daphne didn’t look any less awkward, either. The werewolf girl slowly raised her head, seemingly unable to even glance at Harry.  “Y-yeah,” she said, obviously struggling to even get out a single word from how painfully awkward she found the whole thing. “Sorry. If you want, I can just…uh, leave.”

 

Bella cut that off before anyone could say another word. “Remember the deal, wolf-girl,” she hissed smugly, still obviously enjoying how fiercely Daphne was blushing. 

 

Daphne looked as though she would welcome a sinkhole opening up under her feet and swallowing her whole at that moment. Harry couldn’t really blame her. The thought of Daphne, a girl he’d come to consider a friend, sitting there and watching him, Hermione, and Bella, was…

Well actually, he wasn’t sure he hated the idea. Which made him even more nervous.

 

“You sure you’re okay, Daphne?” he asked softly.

 

Daphne looked up, only for her eyes to skate right off Harry’s face and end up fixating on some point over his shoulder. “I’m fine, Harry,” she assured him, her tone somewhere between “not convincing in the slightest” and “the most blatant lie in the universe.” 

 

Bella clucked. “That’s the spirit, wolf-girl!” she said agreeably. “But remember—no touching. You will watch, and you will watch only.”

 

Daphne’s already beet-red face somehow flushed even deeper. “I…I don’t…” she stammered, before something visibly reset in her brain and she composed herself just long enough to say “Okay.”

 

Bella nodded. “Very good,” she said. “Now, Hermione—on all fours. Now.”

 

Hermione, Harry, and Daphne all blinked in unison. “What?” Hermione said.

 

Bella wound her way towards the catgirl, her expression growing more sultry with each passing second. “I said, get on all fours and present yourself to Harry,” she repeated, her searing magical gaze pressing down on Hermione like a physical thing as the basilisk’s gorgeous face nuzzled against her own. “You agreed to do whatever I said, yes? So do it.”

 

Hermione shuddered. She didn’t really think of herself as a submissive person, really—but there was just something about Bella that made it so much more fun to just…go along with it. So she did. Bella made short work of her nightgown as she did so, leaving Hermione totally bare, and…staring right at Daphne as she got bent over.

 

Merlin, this was going to be awkward. Hermione tried to avert her gaze, as did Daphne, the two girls staring in opposite directions and trying not to make eye contact.

 

Bella fixed that in about as direct a way as possible. “Oh no you don’t, little kitten,” she chuckled, her sinfully soft hands sliding up Hermione’s back and taking her by the chin, effortlessly pulling her head back towards the center, where Daphne was sitting, barely two feet away from Hermione thanks to the limited space. Hermione whimpered a little as she found herself completely unable to stop staring into the scarred werewolf’s bright blue eyes, both girls held spellbound by Bella’s voice alone.

 

“When I say that you are going to watch, wolf-girl,” the basilisk continued, “I mean that you are going to watch. You will not look away. You will not hide your gaze. You will study every second of what is about to happen, and Hermione here will watch you back, so that she knows you are seeing it. Am I clear?”

 

Both girls whined. “Yes,” Daphne whispered. Hermione wondered what the other girl was thinking. Surely she was disgusted by what she saw, right? Hermione, bent over and exposed…   Bella curled her way around both Hermione and Harry, who had already come up behind Hermione, more than eager to play his part in the whole deranged scene.

 

“Now, then,” the lamia purred. “Shall we give Daphne a show?”

 

Daphne whimpered again, but it was far too late to back out, and she knew it. She was in this situation of her own accord, and if this was what it took to get what she wanted…well, she used to be a Slytherin. She was used to doing whatever was necessary to achieve her goals.  But Merlin, she wasn’t ready for this. Especially once Harry and Bella really got to work on Hermione, the catgirl keeping her gaze locked on Daphne’s the entire time.  

 

*****

 

Two days later, Daphne found herself staring at a steaming potion on Professor Snape’s desk, wondering why her heart was beating so much faster now, when she’d gotten to this point.

The green wisps of smoke curling off of the potion had no answers for her, though. Instead, she had to supply them herself.

 

She still hadn’t managed to stop thinking about what she’d had to do to even get the ingredients for the potion. Bella had given her a flask of her… product the next morning, after Daphne had seen and heard things she would never be able to unsee. The sight of Hermione getting absolutely ravished from behind was… it was…

 

Daphne forced the images from her mind before they made her come undone, and focused back on the present. Across from her, Daphne’s old Head of House regarded her with a softer look than she’d ever seen on the man. She returned the look, hoping that not all of her desperate, vulnerable hope was written clearly on her face—or the churning feeling in her gut every time she thought about Harry and Hermione after watching them together.

 

Severus Snape told her, “It is my professional opinion that you should not be so eager to take this potion, Miss Greengrass.”

 

Daphne set her jaw, stubbornness fighting with deference. It didn’t help that she could feel the creep of the wolf in her veins; it was just a few hours until the full moon would rise above the horizon, and she knew that it was coming, that she couldn’t fight it.  “I know, Professor,” she replied, “but I don’t see any other way.”

 

Snape looked at her with something that might have been pity. “There are other ways,” he reminded her, “more reliable ways. There is plenty of Wolfsbane in my stores. You do not need to do this.”

 

Daphne refused to budge, refused to look away. She told him, “That’s a temporary solution, and you know it. Wolfsbane can’t help me, not forever.”

 

To the right of her, Daphne heard Lupin, the man who had saved her, the only real father she’d ever had, sigh. He said, “Daphne, you know there’s no permanent solution to… our condition. This is something you live with, not something you can overcome.”

 

Daphne hesitated for a second; she knew that Lupin was right. And maybe she could recognize that she was partially doing this because she just wanted the pain and the fear and the hate to stop. She didn’t want her old life back…but she wanted her new one to hurt less. She didn’t want to put her friends in danger for defending her; she was tired of having to dodge curses in the halls and endure the knowing, hateful looks of everyone she’d ever known.

 

But more than that, even… these strange feelings in her chest, the ones that bubbled every time she saw Harry and Hermione… they scared her. Not because she didn’t know what they meant, though. Deep down, she did, and that scared her more than she could possibly put into words, because she was infected, contagious, dangerous.

 

Who could ever love a werewolf?

 

So with one last breath, Daphne gestured at the potion, still sitting innocuously on the desk, and countered, “There is a permanent solution. It’s right there.”

 

Snape snapped, “It’s experimental, Miss Greengrass! We have no idea if it will even work or not!”

 

“Consider me the first test subject, then,” Daphne said bluntly, crossing her arms.

 

Snape and Lupin shared a disbelieving glance. Snape replied, “I’m still against it. There’s too many risks.”

 

“Like what?” Daphne asked, unable to keep the pleading edge from her voice.

 

Snape raised a hand, counting on his fingers as he said, “This potion could have any number of effects, most of them very, very bad. It could simply be toxic, and kill you. It could strengthen your lycanthropy instead of altering it to be more controllable. It could permanently turn you into a wolf, or fry your human brain, or do both! Worst of all, though… it could simply not work at all.”

 

Confused, Daphne asked, “Why would it not working be the worst scenario?”

 

Snape’s droll look was almost familiar from class, except for the undercurrent of worry visible in his eyes. He explained dryly, “Because, Miss Greengrass, if the potion fails to work, then in approximately two hours when the full moon rises, there will be a fully transformed werewolf within the castle, a castle filled with innocent children unable to defend themselves.”

 

Daphne swallowed, but it didn’t help the lump in her throat. Her legs felt like jelly, her skin itched as though fur was marching across it, and Lupin’s terrified gaze burned into her. But for all that, she couldn’t let go of the tiny spark of hope in her chest.  She begged, “I know the risks, Professor… and I still want to do this. Please, I have to try.”

 

Snape’s eyes bored into her. “Why do you want to do this so badly?” he demanded.

 

“Because without it, I don’t know how I’ll survive a lifetime of this, of being too dangerous to love,” Daphne thought, cursing her traitorous heart for knowing the truth. But there were more truths, ones she would more readily admit. 

 

So Daphne replied, “Because…if this potion works, it could help all of the people like me. This could help so many people! And I…I’ve been too selfish all my life, hated all of them…and now I can give back. Finally, I have something I can do to help.”

 

Daphne turned to Lupin, tears beading up in her eyes as she pleaded, “Let me show them I’ve changed. Let me do something selfless for once.”

 

Lupin returned her gaze evenly, his face, for once, unreadable. She thought she saw a smile on his lips, and then he nodded, almost imperceptibly.  Out loud, he said, “Give it to her, Severus.”

 

Snape’s eyes widened as he stared at Lupin. “Why are you taking her side?” he demanded.

 

Lupin smiled faintly, even as worry filled his expression. “I know a thing or two about wishing you could do some good,” he replied cryptically.

 

Snape held his gaze for a moment longer, and finally sighed, shaking his head in what looked like disgust or despair.

 

When his head rose again, his eyes were hard, one last time. He met Daphne eye-to-eye, and she refused to flinch, pulling all her strength into meeting this challenge.  In a voice edged like flint, Snape asked, “What if this doesn’t work, Miss Greengrass? What if you transform tonight?”

 

Daphne thought of all the people in this castle, of her enemies and her friends, her old family and her new one. She thought of Astoria somewhere down in the dungeons, neither of them ever letting their eyes meet in the Great Hall, lest something happen that they weren’t able to control. She never looked away from Snape, not for one second.  Steady and unwavering, she answered, “If… if it doesn’t work, you have my permission to…to do whatever it takes.”

 

The silence in the room stretched on and on, until it felt like a living thing on its own, something palpable in the air.  At last, Snape stared up into the sky, as though waiting for some divine being to strike him down. When he remained thoroughly un-smited, he decided, “Very well. Miss Greengrass, I hope for all our sakes that this works.”

 

Daphne didn’t trust her voice, so she simply nodded, staring once again at that terrible, beautiful potion, and all the possibility it offered.

 

Two hours later, Daphne stood in a sealed, locked room in the depths of the Hogwarts dungeons, feeling the wolf in her veins creeping closer to the surface, staring at the green bottle that held the last of her hope.

 

“There’s no going back from this,” she reminded herself, “whatever happens once you drink this, you won’t wake up the same person.”

 

She was fine with that; she’d woken up a different person before, and that hadn’t been all bad. In the end, she supposed that one way or another, this was just another transformation. From pureblood, to beast, to something new, something in-between.

 

Suddenly, something inside her lurched, and she realized she didn’t have time to worry; the wolf was rising, rising with the moon.  Summoning her courage, Daphne brought the flask to her lips and drank. The potion was thicker than it looked; it tasted of mint and moon and blood and fur, and a hundred other things her human senses could never identify. She downed the whole thing in one chug; it sat like lead in her stomach.

 

For a second, there was nothing, no change, and Daphne felt panic rise up inside her, as she prepared to fight the inevitable transformation every step of the way; she’d lose, but she had to fight, had to try her hardest to keep everyone safe. It was already in her blood, prickling at her skin, stirring in her brain, but she would go down fighting, dammit.

 

Then, there was pain. It wasn’t the pain of a werewolf transformation, though, and Daphne had one last feeling of elation before fur and muscle and sinew and bone were exploding and shifting, and her mind was overwhelmed by a wordless scream of agony.

 

She fell to her knees, swept up by something that was too soft to be bloodlust, too cold to be comfortable. All Daphne could do was scream as her bones ground together and her body transformed forever.  But she could scream. Her body was still her own, even in the midst of pain so total that her mind had been washed away, wolf instincts and human agony mingling into background static. And that… that was a victory beyond any other.

 

*****

 

The next morning, when the screams and the howls had long since faded away, the cell door that had been sealed from the outside slowly creaked open. 

 

The huddled form in the corner, clinging to the torn rags of its old clothes, cringed away from the light as two men stepped into the room. One was dark-haired and hawk-nosed, grim and ominous; the other was shabby and threadbare, his face filled with the kind of terror that could only come from love.

 

“Daphne?” this second man asked, in a voice that called to mind ice cream and roaring fires and roguish good looks. A voice that sounded like home.

 

Daphne. That had been her name, once, hadn’t it? Before the pain, before the moon, before the change.  The creature that once called itself Daphne Greengrass raised its head. She was nearly naked, shivering against the cold stone, clothing shredded by her transformation. Ears—wolflike and pricked—twitched atop her head, swiveling to face this voice she remembered.

 

She smiled weakly, even as claws cut into her flesh and bone-deep exhaustion crept up on her. “H-hey, Dad,” she said weakly, speaking through sharp, jagged canine teeth she hadn’t had before, her mouth the wrong shape, her tongue sitting awkwardly in…in her snout. “I think it worked…”

 

With that, she slumped forwards, and passed out in Lupin’s arms.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of The Idea Of Consequences + Bonus Scenes