HAPPY NEW YEAR! (Holy crap, how is it 2016 already?)

Also, I'm sorry guys – I finished my semester a couple weeks ago, and I've been battling this chapter since. I was immensely out of practice and I figured that it was worth waiting an extra week or two in order to make sure the chapter is at least (relatively) good quality. I hope I was right?

And, oh my god guys, we're over 100 reviews! I never dreamt I'd ever get that many! Thank you so much! And thanks to everyone who's favorited/followed/reviewed! You guys are awesome!

I still don't own either Guardians of the Galaxy or Harry Potter. I wish I did…

Please enjoy this late chapter, and I will really try to do better, my friends. Enjoy!

*0*0*0*

Guardians of Hogwarts

Book 1: The Ravager Camp

Gamora blinked and staggered a bit as her feet slammed into the hard ground, her fingers releasing the small spaceship portkey. Quickly regaining her balance, (portkeys were weird – she had only used one once before, when originally coming to England, she had hiked everywhere else,) Gamora glanced over at Kraglin and Peter, before scanning the new area.

The camp was not as she had imagined. Peter had extolled about it, nearly bouncing off the bench at dinner with his enthusiastic gestures as he explained how the camp changed places but always had the same structure.

Gamora mistakenly assumed that the camp would look more impressive than a rough oval of dark, securely-pitched tents in a clearing of an old forest. She only focused on the camp for a second before her eyes trailed to the towering dark towers of branches and sharp needles above.

The trees were singing.

These were far different from the mostly-tame trees of the Forbidden Forest (they may still hold monsters, but the trees themselves had long become accustomed to wizards and witches wandering below their boughs). These trees, these amazing, ageless trees, still sung of wild creatures and magic. They sang of star-filled nights and icy winters, of crackling campfires as the closest thing to civilization and of the wild beasts who roamed without boundary.

Their song was beautiful. And achingly familiar.

For a moment, she was not standing in a circle of rough tents, but in a very different forest, full of elegant homes created by living trees for her Clan. The same song had reverberated through her lost home – rocking her to sleep every night when she had been barely of age to sleep on her own.

A yelp drew Gamora's attention back to the present in a heartbeat, and she rapidly turned her head to focus on her friend.

Peter was sitting on the ground, rubbing his head as blond woman, with her hair held in a tight braid and her sharp green eyes piercing the small boy as she lectured him after knocking him to the ground effortlessly.

Gamora tensed, instinctively preparing for a fight as a large group of people (was that a centaur? And a goblin? In the same place without killing each other?) clustered around her friend. A large hand weighed down on her shoulder, stopping the movement to unsheathe her wand. The half-elf's head swung around rapidly, her eyes narrowing on the tall figure of the second in command of the Ravagers, who was cheerfully tossing the tiny portkey in one hand.

"Relax, little lady," Kraglin chuckled softly, giving her shoulder a slight squeeze, "They just missed Peter. They won't hurt him – at least not majorly."

Gamora turned back and saw that the blond woman had been dragged away by a shockingly similar woman who was just a hair shorter and had loose hair. "Come on, sis, I'm supposed to be the one with the temper. Let the brat get killed by the others too."

As soon as the sisters retreated, Peter (now laughing cheerfully) was under the wand of a black haired wizard who was casting intricate spells so quickly that Gamora couldn't make out what they were. The Slytherin was making placating gestures now, but the man simply stuck his wand in his face and told Peter to, "Stay the hell still, Peter, how the hell did you even manage to accumulate this much damage in just over three months, for Merlin's sake…" before going back to his spells.

To be honest, the Hufflepuff half-elf was very relieved to not be in the spotlight currently, as all of these people were so loud and jinxes were being passed between people like a normal part of conversation.

Gamora admitted in the quietest part of her mind that she was, maybe, just a bit overwhelmed.

Just a bit.

(She was never admitting this. Ever.)

The Hufflepuff dorms (and even her ridiculous friends) were positively tame compared to this camp of crazy people.

Kraglin chuckled at her expression and spoke easily, "Since Peter's being pounced on by everybody else, I guess I'll point out who's who." He pointed at the pair of woman who had first approached Peter, "Those two are Terica and Tena, the Slavic sisters. Try not to piss them off, they're terrifying when provoked…. Actually, you'd probably get along wonderfully with them, if what Peter hasn't exaggerated everything completely out of proportion…"

Gamora raised an eyebrow at the slightly-greasy man who grinned his crooked teeth at her before shaking his head and pointing at the black haired man (who was now joined by a short female centaur who was ruffling Peter's hair as a male centaur waved from behind them). "The wizard is Eldan, our healer. He seems rough, but he's just easily ruffled. Give him ten minutes and he'll be far more composed. The centaurs are Rosanna and Mistue. They're friendly enough as long as you don't pull their tails – literally and metaphorically in this case."

Kraglin chuckled cheerfully at his own joke and clapped her shoulder, abruptly backing off. Gamora squashed the instinctive flair of fear and paranoia of being abandoned in this strange environment, and then Peter was extracting himself from his friends (family?) and trotting over to her.

"Come on, Gamora, you're going to love it here!" Peter beamed, his eyes glinting with happiness at being home.

Gamora felt a brief pang of envy at his glowing look. She had no idea how it felt to be so happy just to return to a place that was called 'home.' Every mention of home for her was shadowed with the memories of death and tears and huge purple hands ripping her away.

Shaking her thoughts off, Gamora mustered a smile as Peter stopped next to her. He twirled around to the larger group and cleared his throat (very pompously) before announcing in a deep voice, "Fellow Ravagers, with two or four legs, both male and female alike, of…"

"Get on with it already, Quill!" A voice called out from the group.

Peter pouted and Gamora hid the small grin with a snort. "I was working on it," he said petulantly in his normal tone, before continuing with the lower pitched voice, "May I present, Gamora Galonlithe, one of my best friends!"

A quiet settled on the clearing for the first time since they had landed, and Gamora's grin slipped off her face slowly as one of the two blonds, the taller woman with the harsh braid and green eyes, stepped forward with narrowed eyes. "Gamora – daughter of Thanos?"

The half-elf's hands fisted as she stiffened at the name. Instinctively, she spat out, "I am no daughter of Thanos! Not anymore!"

"But you were raised by him."

Gamora raised her furious eyes to meet the green ones, unflinchingly. "He may have raised me, but he is not my father." She jutted out her chin, one hand almost starting to slip towards her wand before she caught herself. If they thought her a willing servant of that monster, then going for her weapon would only prove their suspicions correct in their head.

But it still took every nerve the Hufflepuff possessed to stand there, essentially defenseless. Her fists trembled as she battled her instinct to get a weapon in her hand, and she swallowed hard. She had to trust Peter's instincts that they'd accept her (he had promised her they would, the bastard).

(And, if her natural magic was humming at her fingertips, ready to strike out at the hint of malice, well, no one else had to know about that. Not that it would actually injure or anything, but it would give her the second she needed to reach her wand.)

She could almost feel Peter's eyes boring into her, encouraging her to make the first step. (She was definitely not going to stop Rocket the next time he wanted to douse their Slytherin friend with one of his potions.) With a sigh and a squaring of her shoulders, she growled out, "My Clan was killed by Thanos – I was taken to be raised as a weapon, and I escaped just prior to starting at Hogwarts. I have no loyalty to that monster; I never have."

The elf-girl trembled minutely as she felt all of their eyes weighing on her. She hated it.

Peter touched her shoulder lightly, and she could feel her shoulders instinctively relax the slightest touch. Gathering her courage, Gamora raised her own eyes, meeting the piercing woman's gaze directly and holding them.

After a few long heartbeats, the woman's posture loosened and she gave a sharp nod before grinning. "Well done, girl. You've got some guts to stand your ground, and you're not lying. You'll fit in well here. The name's Terica, by the way; it's nice to meet you."

The air in the clearing relaxed immediately and the other Ravagers, at the sign of Gamora clearing whatever test that was (she was betting the woman – Terica – had some sort of ability to see lies or something. She'd never heard of it, but she'd also never heard of raccoon-boys before this year, so who knew), surged forward to greet her, their voices overlaying into a cacophony of noise.

Gamora relaxed as Peter gave an exuberant whoop and collected money from Kraglin (he'd better split that with her later – she had done all the work after all). Most of the vicious aggression had faded from the Ravagers who spoke to her now. Oh, they were still yelling and picking at each other (now she understood why Peter enjoyed watching Rocket's and Ron's spats), but nothing went beyond a small scuffle, which Kraglin helped break up.

It should have been claustrophobic and terrifying and she should have been running for the hills, but, for some bizarre reason, Gamora just felt warm.

Huh. Maybe this was similar to 'coming home.'

*0*0*0*

Rocket growled unhappily as his dormmates shrieked. He burrowed deeper into his nest of blankets and robes and held his claws over his ears, trying in vain to block out the loud voices.

Why the hell were they all awake already? It was the holidays – shouldn't they all be sleeping in or something?

A familiar nervous voice cleared itself right outside of Rocket's nest. "Er, Rocket? You know it's Christmas, right? You should get up and get your presents!"

Rocket wordlessly growled at Terry as he tried to block his ears, and then his words sunk in.

Christmas? Presents?

Rocket grumbled as he extracted his head from his nest and popped it out from under his bedframe. "What do ya mean 'presents'?"

Terry blinked, his dark hair still messy from bedhead and a confused expression on his face. "You know… presents? You get them from your mum and dad, oh, um, or from your other family and friends on Christmas?"

The raccoon boy blinked up at the other Ravenclaw, still vaguely confused. He had the barest traces of memories of Christmases from before his… incident, but he barely remembered more than attempting to understand why he was forced into uncomfortable clothes and couldn't talk to his brother at all. None of this 'present' stuff.

But, Rocket didn't think that Terry was lying to him (the boy wasn't good at hiding his body language in the slightest), so he'd at least come out and investigate.

Even though it meant leaving his toasty warm nest…

Actually…

Rocket shook his head and left the warmth before he could convince himself that he didn't really need to know, and he yawned widely, exposing his sharp teeth. He gestured at Terry, who had moved back a bit when he moved, "Lead the way, idiot."

Terry rolled his eyes, long since used to Rocket's usual diction, and motioned towards the small tree positioned at the end of the dorm. "It's right there, Rocket. Yours are on the left, I think."

Rocket nodded before padding over to the tree, his claws clicking softly on the stone floor. His ears twitched as he heard Terry grab his own packages and disappear down the stairs towards the Ravenclaw common room. The rest of his dormmates were already gone from the tower (Rocket was relatively sure it was midmorning – or midafternoon? One of the two), so the raccoon-boy approached the pile slowly, warily.

He knew the concept of presents, but he didn't remember the last time he actually got one… What were they usually? Er… robes? Money? Rocket scratched his head as he tried to remember the last Christmas before his incident, but his pure human memories were fuzzy at the best and nonexistent most of the time…

Shrugging off his thoughts, Rocket eyed the pile of misshapen and badly wrapped presents. He snagged the largest with a sharp talon. He jerked it and the surprisingly-light present jerked forward into Rocket's chest. He flinched on instinct, before scowling fiercely, his tail twitching back and forth with embarrassment. At least no one was around to see.

With an enthusiasm that surprised him, Rocket ripped into the present and found his claws tangled in – cloth?

Tearing off the rest of the wrapping paper, Rocket stared in confusion in the pile of bright blue, knitted cloth. He grabbed one end hesitantly and, holding it up, found that it was a long, thick, blue scarf. There were errors in the knit everywhere: a dropped stitch there, three added ones here, a looser knit in one row surrounded by tightly knitted rows.

Not to mention, Rocket was relatively sure the giant scarf was larger then he was – the small raccoon-boy could fill his arms with the scarf and excess cloth would still spill out.

A glint of white drew his attention and Rocket grabbed the note, reading quickly:

'Friend Rocket,

Please have a wondrous holiday, and I hope the scarf will help with the drafty castle.

Happy Holidays!

Drax of Shafiq'

Rocket blinked.

Drax… Drax had knitted the scarf. He didn't even know the burly Hufflepuff knitted (though at least that explained the weird clicking of wood that came from his bag when they were dashing to class – he guessed knitting needles would click?).

Rocket sniffed the large scarf, recognizing the scents of Drax, his friends, leather, musty paper… A genuine smile broke across his face as he rubbed his cheek on the soft fabric. The familiar, warm scents on the cloth comforted him in ways that he didn't quite want to acknowledge (he wasn't completely sure if he would be able to survive without friends now – life had changed so much since he was completely alone).

Glancing at the door, Rocket quickly sprinted back to his bed and added the scarf to his nest, hiding it deep within so it wasn't visible from the outside. No one had to know how much he valued it, valued the object that showed that someone had devoted hours to making something just for him.

Returning to the tree, Rocket quickly worked through the other presents, his tail waving happily as he uncovered books from Hermione and sweets (Ron and Harry, he assumed). A new knife was likely from Gamora (he was nearly positive, since there was a note enclosed that listed different ways for it to be used to dissect potion ingredients or humans), and a muggle music player like the one Peter had (he was going to have fun taking it apart to find out how it worked).

And near the back of the pile was a large, smelly flower (oh Groot…) and a dead mouse (damn it, Rael, he had asked her to stop with the freaking mice).

Rocket looked at his loot and grinned toothily, unable to feel grumpy when he was basking in the warmth of his friends' affection.

His smile died though as he realized (with a sinking stomach that he wouldn't acknowledge) that he hadn't really given gifts – he had bought some candies, but those felt like nothing next to his friends' gifts…

But he could fix that! He could make a potion that would show… show… well, show something!

His claws itched to use that new knife and start on the potion, but he paused, glancing at the sweets that Harry and Ron had sent. Maybe they had the same problem?

Rocket swayed, mentally battling with himself before sighing and giving into the inevitable. He grabbed his bag and dashed down the stairs, heading out of Ravenclaw tower.

*0*0*0*

Moving with a confidence that belayed his first-year status, Rocket found his way to the Great Hall in record time. The raccoon-boy slowed as he entered and approached the table where the handful of students who had stayed over the holidays were eating lunch.

Drax and Harry were sitting at the table, talking quietly, but Ron was nowhere in sight (unsurprisingly – he had heard the Weasley twins howling in the corridors earlier about kidnapping their little brother for 'family bonding,' and for once Rocket felt deeply sorry for Ron Weasley). The pair looked up at Rocket and Drax waved as Rocket slid into the seat next to Drax. Harry grinned, but Rocket's eyes were drawn upwards to the colorful object enveloping the black hair on his friends head. It was a large, slightly misshapen red hat with a gold pompom on top and a golden brim. Rocket smirked at the hat before grabbing a handful of bacon and some turkey onto his plate and starting to scarf it down.

"Happy Christmas, Rocket!" Harry said, his voice bright with cheer.

"Happy Christmas indeed, friend Rocket. Did you enjoy your gift?"

Rocket grinned at Drax and nodded. "It was ok," his enthusiastic tone telling the truth while Rocket attempted not to let on how much he enjoyed it.

The raccoon-boy flinched as he realized that he had forgotten who he was talking to, and Drax's face had fallen at the lackluster words. He sighed gustily, recapturing Drax's attention, and said quietly, "It was a really… awesome gift, Drax. I really liked it."

Harry grinned and reaffirmed, "My hat's really neat, Drax. I didn't even know you knitted!"

Drax smiled and relaxed. He carefully shrugged and spoke, "It is an exercise to better fine tune my… excess strength."

Rocket frowned, sidetracked, "What do ya mean excess strength? You aren't just naturally strong?"

The Hufflepuff's smile faded and he shifted uncomfortably. Rocket's eyes narrowed and he opened his muzzle before a sharp knock on his tail drew his attention back to the Gryffindor. Harry glared slightly at him and shook his head once.

The Ravenclaw huffed in annoyance, but backed down. Pissing Drax off with constant questions was probably not the best move on Christmas anyway…

Rocket blinked as he recalled his initial reason for coming down (besides for the food). "Oi, Harry, you want to help me come up with a more badass gift than sweets?"

The Gryffindor blinked and looked at his Ravenclaw friend carefully. "What do you mean?"

Rocket bared his teeth in a dangerous grin, "Potions, obviously."

Harry eyed his friend and said, "No explosions?"

"No purposeful explosions."

"No poisonous gases flooding corridors?"

"That one wasn't even me!"

"Rocket. If you destroy the castle, Gamora will kill you."

"But it wasn't – oh, whatever, fine, no poisonous gases. Sheesh, let's just make this a boring potion, why don't we?" Rocket huffed as he grabbed his plate to eat while working and started walking out. He could hear the scuff of shoes as Harry and Drax followed and Drax's low laughter as the friendly bickering continued and the trio left the Great Hall.

*0*0*0*

So… I hope that was ok? I tried…

I'm going to try to update at least once a month. That's my new goal, so hopefully that will work.

I'm kind of annoyed I didn't get to the point that I was hoping to, but I've set some stuff up (plus, Gamora and Rocket demanded they have their rather long parts). And I hope you guys like the Ravager characters you were introduced to! They will keep popping up (just as background characters, I promise).

Please review guys! Those comments keep me writing and help a lot. :)

See ya,

Scales