Summary: SSHG, AU, Sirius Black hates Severus Snape. When an ugly confrontation occurs between them at Grimmauld Place, Sirius throws an old Black family curse at him, only to have Hermione Granger attempt to stop him. She's hit head-on, and everything changes— starting with her. As her fellow students shun her more than ever, certain things thought long dead come to light, casting an ever-greater shadow over the champions of light.

Beta Love: The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Flyby Commander Shepard

Warning: Not canon, SSHG, HEA, probably crack

Heart of Stone

From the deepest desires often come the deadliest hate.

Socrates

When Albus heard the terrified shriek coming from the library in Grimmauld Place, he felt his heart fall into his stomach as an icy dread spread throughout his body.

He'd missed something.

He'd underestimated something.

He looked around at the wide eyes of those sitting at the table: Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, almost every other Weasley, and the tattered remains of the Order of the Phoenix—

Sirius Black was conspicuously absent.

Severus Snape was also absent—

Hermione Granger—

Oh Merlin, no. Not her. Not the one who had miraculously managed to keep Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley alive—

He ran down the hall into the isolated, oft-ignored library to find Sirius Black standing with his wand in hand, frozen in horrified paralysis, his flushed face twisted in dawning realisation.

Hermione Granger hung limply from what looked like a stalagmite, that had risen up from the floor and impaled her, the tip having pinned her body against the recoiling Snape. She was frozen, having pushed her professor away so only the edge of his woolen robes had been caught by the shard of stone, but the weapon of earth had taken her to the chest, breaking through her ribcage, and embedded itself into Hermione Granger's still-beating heart.

He cast a few frantic spells to stop the onslaught that had claimed her, but a blast of powerful, all-encompassing hatred blew him back into a wall, knocking him temporarily senseless.

Her screams of agony would haunt him even more than Ariana's, for his sister's death had been, at the very least, quick. She cried out in agony, her body spasming as the "rock" of the stalagmite seemed to liquefy and go molten, pouring over her young body in a slow, excruciating crawl. It poured over all of her exposed flesh and clothes, her clothing swiftly gave up the ghost as it was seemingly burned away. It burrowed into every single pore of skin. It slithered into her nose and mouth, burning as it went with earthen fury and unerring magical guidance. Her veins and arteries glowed with magical fire as the magical molten stone flowed into her bloodstream, and she shrieked the entire time until her vocal cords finally gave up, frozen in place by cooling magma as her entire body was encased in a twisted parody of an egg.

The surface of the igneous tomb, crackled as it cooled, the surface steaming and hissing as a noxious miasma arose from the entrapped stony prison.

When Dumbledore reached for the surface, a hostile, obsidian spike burst out from the egg-like formation, attempting to impale his hand.

His normally twinkling blue eyes lost all of their sparkles as his lips pressed into a hard, unforgiving line. He narrowed his eyes, glaring at Sirius Black. "What have you done?"

As a chorus of gasps came from the gathered Order members, taking in the sight of the grotesque monstrosity that had devoured Hermione Granger alive as well as the dangling, immobile form of Severus Snape hanging from the far wall, Albus saw reality close in on Sirius Black like a vice.

Alastor Moody scowled as his wand lit up and he cast spells over the pulsating, seemingly growing, igneous formation in the middle of the library, the glowing form of Hermione Granger was encased within, swirling magic and rock infesting her body as her silent, psychic screams made the faces gathered all pale in abject horror.

Moody's jaw tightened as his scanning spells came back, telling him what he did not want to see or admit: Severus Snape hadn't cast a single spell, but Sirius Black had crafted a vicious curse so filled with hatred and foul blackness of a kind that even the Darkest magical families had tried their best to forget.

"Sirius Black, you are under arrest for the use of a Dark curse on a minor. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questions something which you later rely on in Wizengamot. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

"NO! Not Sirius! Not SIRIUS!" Harry cried. "Don't do this, Mad-Eye! This is all some terrible mistake! It has to be! It's bloody Snape's fault! He provoked him!"

Alastor grabbed Harry by the front of the shirt, jerking him upward. "Don't be a blind idiot, boy. Snape's wand is clean, he didn't cast a single offensive spell, plus he's the one currently pinned to a bloody wall— Black just cast a Dark curse on a child. A CHILD, boy! Do you think that is remotely excusable? Do you think that just because you want something to be the way you want them to be that it somehow makes things go away? Well, it doesn't! I've wanted Snape to be guilty for almost two whole decades, boy, and I just got the reality check of my life right here— in this house of allies. Black was supposed to be a member of the light. He was an Auror just like your father, and now— I'm starting to wonder if your dad wasn't every bit as bad as Snape once told me he was, but I didn't want to believe him at the time."

Moody jerked on his magic via his wand, and Sirius was immediately in heavy magical irons, his mouth, hands, arms, and legs securely bound.

"NO! Don't send him back to Azkaban! It was only a mistake! Hermione just got in his way! She's impulsive! She's always defending bloody Snape! It's HER fault she got in his way! Don't do this to Sirius!"

Dumbledore put a gentle restraining hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, I saw it myself. All of it. As much as I wished to believe that Sirius wasn't truly capable of such a terrible thing, Sirius used his hatred for Severus to power his curse. That— the formation that took Miss Granger— was powered by powerful hatred and the very darkest of Dark magic."

"No, it's not! It's NOT!" Harry yelled as he desperately threw himself at the formation.

The surface bubbled and oozed with undeniable hatred, seething, burbling, hissing menacingly as if it was alive.

"NO, HARRY!" Remus cried, diving at him, throwing him to the floor as an igneous spike flew outward, just barely missing impaling the younger wizard.

Remus rolled over, wincing in pain. Harry pushed him off, looking like he was going to take another go at it when he abruptly paled and focused on the deadly spike that had torn open his jumper and trousers— and would have impaled him had Remus not stopped him in time.

Harry clutched at his forehead, screaming in agony as Dark magic swirled around him like a hungry shark as if seeking to attack him again. His scar suddenly burst open and began to bleed profusely. He cast himself down onto Moody's dragonhide boots, practically toppling the old Auror by knocking him off-balance. "Please don't take Sirius away! Please! My parents trusted him! He's my godfather! He's family!"

"Harry," Remus said quietly, trying to pull him up.

Harry fought him with all he had, his anger bubbling up uncontrolled—

The burbling residue of hate from the curse Sirius had cast fed off it, sending tendrils shooting into Harry's scar and wound and drained him of all his hate and anger and the magic that backed it up.

Dumbledore slammed down a powerful barrier shield, cutting it off before it drained Harry of all of his magic. The Order frantically put up shields to attempt to protect themselves as well. The tendrils of magic searched for the next best source of hate, licking across the shields until it found the bound Sirius—

The tendrils reared back and then shot into Sirius and fed— off his anger, his hate, his emotion, his memories like a starving Dementor.

They fed overwhelmingly fast— far too fast to protect against, too powerful to be driven back after having absorbed the magic of the House of Black, whose very existence was founded on the utmost of hatreds cultured over hundreds and hundreds of years.

Hermione's psychic scream peaked as Sirius Black fell to the ground, face first. The tendrils withdrew, the stone trap pulsed, and then it went utterly silent. The screaming stopped, and an unnatural silence settled over Grimmauld Place.

Notorious Azkaban Escapee Sirius Black Found at St Mungo's Entirely Drained of Magic!

Sirius Black, convicted murderer of former friends James and Lily Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and twelve innocent Muggles, was found comatose at St Mungo's after suffering what appears to be severe magical backlash from casting some sort of ancient, forbidden Dark magic.

Investigations have found trace evidence of the"Igneus Hominum" a horrific curse rumoured to have roots in the Black family and was allegedly used for ridding the family of ancient rivals. The spells, long-buried in antiquity, were banned, but that wasn't why they were put out of use.

"The Olde Magick spells," Ministry Antiquarian Sage Bihan Farquest stated, "were often rooted within the magic of the family that created them. Using them required a great base pool of familial magic or very strong emotion to power the spell— but preferably both. Without extensive precautions that often outweighed the benefit, use of the spell could drain a family to nothing magically. The end did not justify the means, as they say."

The fate of Sirius Black is now within the hands of the Wizengamot as an investigation as to the intended target of the spell is currently underway.

So far, however, Mr Black shoes no sign of regaining consciousness or returning magic. It is believed his condition will likely prove permanent.

"It's as if his magic simply chose to go somewhere else," a baffled healer was overheard saying as he exited a hospital staff meeting. "How do you even try to treat that?"

Harry woke the next morning in an infirmary bed at Hogwarts with a throbbing headache. The sunlight coming through the window across from him was far too bright for his eyes, and he winced in pain.

"Ah, you're awake," Dumbledore said from the comfy armchair he had conjured nearby. He stroked his beard absently. "How are you feeling?"

Harry frowned. "Tired, sir."

"Quite understandable," Albus said, his blue eyes taking on a solemn greyness that did not carry even a hint of his trademark twinkle. "You almost died, Harry. Or rather, your magic did. In this world, that is often considered a fate worse than death."

Harry blinked back his shock. "What?!"

"The spell that Sirius cast fed off, was powered by emotion— in particular, the strongest of emotions— and in that situation, my dear Harry, the strongest emotion was yours. When that emotion was devoured, it took the next best thing— the lure of your magic." Albus touched one finger to Harry's forehead where the wound was healing again. "And that lingering magic that was so strong that it stayed with you since you were born. Even—"

Albus frowned. "The magic that your mum used to protect you. It has put you in a very dangerous place, my young friend. Far more so than you've ever been."

Dumbledore sighed. "When you were but a wee babe, I enhanced the spell your mum used to protect you, binding your family's bloodline to your protection— a protection that would last until your seventeenth birthday, provided you continued to live with blood family in order to reinforce the magic your mum cast. It simply could be no other way, I'm afraid."

"But when you were captured via the trophy Portkey, that protection became moot," Albus said heavily. "The danger to you had already increased tenfold, but at least here— at Hogwarts— you were much safer. I tried to encourage you to find roots here. To want to be here, but I fear I have done you a grave disservice in not being clear from the start with regard to Professor Snape's loyalties."

"He's a monster!" Harry blurted.

"No, Harry, he is not. That is only your godfather speaking. The truth is much more complex. In fact, your father and his best mates, Sirius included, made it their mission in life to torment Professor Snape throughout his time here as a student. I turned a blind eye because I thought it was about mere boyhood pranks— but I was a fool. I was prejudiced against Slytherin and inclined to ignore even the most egregious failings of my old House. I fear that I did it again in allowing you and your young friends to repeatedly escape punishment in my attempt to keep you safely here at Hogwarts. However, I do not plan to make that mistake again. Especially—"

Albus closed his eyes for a moment as if in pain. "Miss Granger is currently in critical condition. The magic that she was attacked with has both cursed and protected—"

"She should never have—"

"Mr Potter," Dumbledore said, his tone turning steely. "She attempted to save a life yesterday. There are exceedingly few who are so brave and resolute that they choose to stand up for what they believe in with action and not mere words. Professor Snape is a trusted teacher and a dear friend of mine, Harry. I would have you remember that. And you should know better than anyone that appearances and rumour breeds far more lies than truth."

Albus narrowed his eyes. "And you do not ask me how she is or if she is alright, no. Which begs the question, Harry— what are you more concerned about right now?"

Harry stared at his lap, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling. "Sirius was my only chance to have a real family. Peter escaped. She knew how important he was to me!"

Albus cracked his neck. "Harry, if Sirius had attacked Severus entirely without Miss Granger's interference, he would still be guilty of casting a Dark, forbidden magic, and he would be facing the prospect of Azkaban yet again, if but for very different reasons. And perhaps, you should think hard upon this, Harry. If Sirius truly valued your future together, why then did he choose to let his grudge against Professor Snape overrule his feelings for you?"

Harry paled, torn between truth and fantasy— the need for his ideals to become his reality.

"As it is, the only one who can safely be in the same room as Miss Granger is Professor Snape. He is the only one here capable of controlling his emotions well enough to avoid triggering the defences on the curse," Albus said grimly. "I am unsure when the curse will be released or even if it can be. Auror Moody is doing his best to research the specific Olde magicks at work, but that is not exactly his speciality."

"Why can't you? You're the headmaster!"

Dumbledore frowned harder. "Harry, something you are going to have to learn is that none of us are perfect. None of us are the masters of all things, including me. Perhaps, especially me. In fact, I find that I see that now more clearly than ever before. Professor Snape is a master at controlling his emotions. You may not think it to be so, but he truly is the best suited for the task of keeping Hermione Granger safe."

"Not Snape!"

Dumbledore stood.

"I want to see her!" Harry exclaimed, standing up.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Harry. That is not a good idea."

"Why?"

"The last time you were exposed to Miss Granger's magical barrier-curse, you were almost drained of all magic. Do you really want to risk that again?"

Harry's jaw clenched stubbornly. "She's my friend. I should be ab—"

"Mr Potter," Dumbledore interrupted. "You've hardly been acting like a friend, and I think you need to get some sleep and do some serious thinking once you are fully rested, don't you?"

Harry lay back in the bed, scowling at the ceiling but mercifully silent.

Albus walked out of the infirmary, shaking his head, the look of concern not quite leaving the crease of his brows.

Snape braced himself against the "sound" of the continuous psychic screams that came from inside the stone prison. With each agonised screech, the ground seemed to shift and crack, the books shaking down from the shelves.

He reached out and gently touched the stone formation. "I fear I cannot take the pain away, but I can help you dull the edge. Teach you how to ground it and drive it away. If you'll let me in, Miss Granger."

The stone under his hand seemed to warm and pulse. The screams seemed somewhat lessened as her misery appeared to slowly fade into the background by his attention.

Snape extended his awareness, closing his eyes and trying very hard to allow Hermione to see his teaching from his mind without exposing her to the smouldering cauldron of emotion underneath— his anger at Black for having hit a student with a curse and that curse having been meant for him. He had never liked Black in any way, but when the hostility was aimed at him, he could deal with it. But bloody Black had caught a child in a torturous Dark family curse— the sort of thing that had been long buried for a reason.

His hatred for Black and his one-time compatriots had been a smouldering fire under his skin from the moment they had first met on the train to Hogwarts, and the fact that James Potter was long dead hadn't dulled the feeling one iota. Every time he looked at Potter's look-alike son, he was bitterly reminded of all the pain and humiliation he had endured at the malicious hands of Potter senior and his merry band of wankers.

No, the hatred he felt for them was very much alive and well, and Potter's misbegotten son was every bit as foolish, pig-headed, and brash as his utter swine of a father had been. Dumbledore had always coddled the boy as if putting him with Petunia and that horrible Vernon was somehow going to make everything okay. Everything was quite obviously far from okay.

The boy was a menace, sending emotional shrapnel around in a rising magical cyclone that the aware could feel even if he wasn't flinging chairs and tables around.

But what had happened to the Granger girl—

It was downright criminal, as much a blatant, glaring attempt on her life, accident or no.

No, Snape knew Black had fully intended for it to torture him forever, only it had struck Miss Granger instead.

And he had a feeling Hermione not only knew that fact but had also heard every last selfish, insensitive comment Potter had made in trying to prevent his mangy cur of a godfather from going to Azkaban for what he'd done, even blaming her for the mutt's predicament.

Some bloody friend.

All of this he carefully buried deep behind an impenetrable wall of Occlumency. It wasn't as if Granger needed to know his opinion of what she already knew. She hardly needed a reminder of what her supposed best mate had really thought of her when the gobstones were down.

Tendrils of magic— earth-based, Granger's own, and some other mix —wrapped around the hand he had placed upon the stone surface. It crawled over his hand, wrist, and then continued up his arm like a sleeve. He felt the brush of Granger's mind as she gobbled up what he was offering her, but the touch of this strange combination of magic caused his usually impeccable mental controls to scramble.

He realised then why that "something" seemed oddly familiar.

The magic felt like Black's and how Regulus' had once felt. It was the Black familial magic mixed with—

Oh, Merlin.

The Dark Lord's insidious magic crept over him, and he recoiled, immediately trying to shut it down. He couldn't allow the Dark Lord to realise he was helping a mere "Mudblood" even if allegedly under Dumbledore's orders.

And therein lay his second mistake—

The moment he pulled away, the tendrils snapped around his arm like an iron vice, determined to see its mission through. The magic tightened around his arm like a tourniquet, cutting off his circulation, and he was positive in that moment that he'd lose his arm completely like a wild animal caught in a trap that was forced to gnaw its own paw off to escape.

The magic burrowed into his arm with an agonising savage heat, the feel of molten stone seemingly crawling through his veins as if to share the curse utterly and completely. He could feel the draw of magic, and he saw his Mark crawling, twisting, writhing as the tendrils seemed to add to it as much as it was taking away. He cried out, his legs scrambling against the floor of the Grimmauld Place library. His neck strained as the arteries and veins bulged, his face twisted with just a short taste of the agonising torture Granger was going through second by second, minute to hour, hour to day—

Even as it burned and seethed and scalded, tearing into him with the sensation of molten lava in his veins, he sensed Granger's sorrow as she realised the memories were connected with the magic she had inadvertently stolen.

This does not belong here, a voice so like hers spoke in his blood, his mind, and perhaps his very soul. I can help you as you helped me.

He realised as Granger's magic seemed to assimilate the other magics and make it her own that the feel of the Dark Lord's magic was a phantom, a trigger, and perhaps it was a queued line waiting to be transformed by Hermione in her stone cocoon.

Would he be drained, too?

He heard and felt the pulse of a great heart beating within the stone, thumping like the footfalls of a giant upon the earth.

"Help me," he groaned, the terrible pain even worse than the Cruciatus.

I found the reason why it hurt so very much, her mind-voice said, now seeming calm and ethereal. It hurts because I fought it, but I'm not fighting anymore.

Snape, hardly the one who could ever "let go" and let anything happen as it would, struggled with the concept of surrendering to anything.

Especially when the pain was far more significant than any Cruciatus—

Yet—

Granger was never the kind of person who would lie. She had been many things as his student, but she had never been a liar. The one notable time had been when she'd said she attempted to fight the troll herself to get Potter and Weasley out of the hot seat.

Minerva hadn't believed it either, but the troll had been dealt with, so—

No thanks to Quirrell.

Snape let out his breath, trying to think of something that didn't cause his mind to see it as a threat and realised that everything he had was a threat in one way or another.

The Dark Lord.

Lily.

Potter's gang of nimrods.

Potter's son trying to kill himself with his own stupidity and brash carelessness.

Dumbledore's "fatherly" hovering, ready to yank on his chains of guilt and duty—

Not that Albus had actually saved Lily—

Not that he'd actually tried—

And for the first time in his life, Severus Snape let go of his anger and frustration and allowed those emotions to flood out of him. They came in a trickle, then a flood, and then seeped away like the draining of a long-harboured abscess.

The relief was almost painfully poignant.

He barely felt the tears flowing down his face as he collapsed on top of the stone cocoon, even as the earthen magic continued to entrap his arm. Even as he wept, having not truly allowed for such things since Lily's death (and even then it had involved much throwing of furniture and destroying of breakables he felt a profound relief as it left him. He felt this even stranger sensation of both compassion and sympathy— true understanding of a pain shared.

How could one so young already understand such loss and guilt? Such anger, such betrayal?

And then, he realised Hermione Granger had more than heard all the arguments and nattering that had gone on all around her stone prison— most of all Harry Potter's heartfelt pleas to save sodding Sirius Black over her.

She had heard the blame he had cast upon her as the reality of their friendship had been nought but convenience to Potter's need for "real" family.

He saw her in tears during the Yule Ball, crying in the girl's lavatory in her pain of being ridiculed and unaccepted. He saw her ostracised for her teeth, her hair, her too-smart know-it-all-ness.

He felt his own pangs of guilt for having contributed to some of that, yet it seemed she felt his remorse, for the magic didn't torture him for his transgressions. It felt quite alien as the sensation of both understanding and Granger's compassion touched him like the wrap of a warm hug.

That too was utterly alien to him. His mum's hugs had always been brief or desperate. His father— well, that had never happened after his magic had shown. It wasn't like any of his peers ever wanted to touch him in a genuinely caring way either. Even Dumbledore's shoulder hugs had always been layered with some false sense of grandfatherly duplicity.

No one should suffer alone, Professor, her voice came with an undeniable tone of respect.

Only a few minutes ago, he would have exploded in rage, roaring that she had no idea what she was talking about— that she could never know him or presume to know him, but he couldn't deny her genuine care. It was laced within her magic, hidden in her grief, and waiting for some outlet she had been denied for some indefinite amount of time.

He could almost feel the touch of her slender fingers on the skin of his arm— the warmth, the respect.

Before he could even realise it, all his emotions had fled with his tears, and he slumped over the stone that held Hermione Granger in a dead sleep.

Harry had just wanted to get to Hermione to convince her that it was all a terrible mistake. Surely she would understand. Sirius hadn't meant to attack her, and Snape had just goaded him into an attack like he always tormented his students. She'd have to understand that, especially after the horrid git insulted her teeth, right? He was obviously a horrible person. Sirius was his godfather! His parents had trusted him! Harry needed him!

She had so many people.

She had parents!

He didn't even have those!

She owed it to him to make things right!

"This is a really bad idea, Harry," Ron protested from underneath the cloak as they tumbled out of the floo together. "Dumbledore said—"

"Dumbledore doesn't understand!

Ron made a face. "He's Dumbledore. He understands things!"

Harry hissed his mate quiet.

As they shuffled under the invisibility cloak, they made their way past the Auror posted by the library door. The man glowered as he heard their feet shuffle on the old wooden floor, and he quickly cast a Hominem Revelio. Harry quickly clamped his hand over Ron's squealing mouth, and they did a sideways shuffle around the Auror. The Auror went storming down the hall, wand out, and they plastered themselves against the wall and slid by into the library, making sure to quietly close the door behind them.

They stumbled in to find the room filled with a strange sort of miasma. They covered their faces with their sleeves, coughing on some of the acrid vapour caught in their throat.

"Snape!" Harry cried, seeing the black drape of the man's stupid, hated billowing robes. His jaw tightened in fury.

Anger was an old, cherished friend— the friend that had never once let him down. He lurched forward, wand out, not even caring that he didn't have a plan. He was seeing red, and the anger demanded appeasement at once.

"H-Harry!" Ron protested thinly in fright, seeing the vapour around the room begin to form into a dense cluster of thick, writhing tentacles. His hand tried to jerk on Harry's robes to pull him back, get his attention— something!

Without so much as a backward glance, Harry roughly shook Ron off his arm, as his magic rose up around him like a cyclone bursting through a stand of trees. Before he even realised it, a spell was already out of his mouth, his wand flaring with a spike of furious energy, and it went zooming directly at Snape—

SssshhhhhhhhrrrrrrkkkPOP!

The Hogwarts gargoyle appeared in a puff of dark vapour, its muzzle curled in a wicked snarl of dagger-like teeth. The magic from Harry bounced off the gargoyle's skin, causing cracks in the stone, but the stone healed instantly as the skin turned molten, filling in the cracks to become whole again.

With the absorption of magic, the gargoyle grew larger, and it growled lowly, the library shaking so much that the books went toppling. It placed its forepaws on the stone encasement and Snape, a river of sticky drool hanging in rivelets from its openly annoyed maw of extremely sharp teeth.

The gargoyle's hackles raised, eyes glowed menacingly, and then—

ShhhhhhrrrrkkFOOP!

The gargoyle, the stone encasement, and Snape were suddenly all gone, leaving the library empty save for—

"Halt! On order of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement!"

Stunners hit Harry and Ronald square in the back as the cloak went fluttering to the floor, blending into the floorboards and disappearing from sight.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Mr Potter," Dumbledore said coolly as he paced his office. "You were not given permission to leave Hogwarts grounds. You left well past curfew, hijacking a school Floo after hours. You were specifically instructed to leave Miss Granger alone after the incident with Sirius Black. On top of that, you attacked a teacher and purposely sneaked by an on-duty Auror. These are all expellable offences that cannot be ignored. The only reason you are not being expelled is that there is a terrible war going on, and it is, despite it all, far safer in here than beyond these walls."

Dumbledore's pacing stopped at he placed his hand on the spinning globe in his office.

"I am placing Minerva in charge of your punishment and letting her administrate it as she sees fit. On top of this, you and Mr Weasley are both forbidden to leave Gryffindor tower outside of your classes or detentions as they may fall. You will be escorted whenever you are to leave the tower by Auror. They will be with you at all times. No exceptions. Even when you shower. You will not be permitted to visit Miss Granger at any time, and your respective owls will be strictly monitored in and out. All house elves will be forbidden from helping you, and those that may attempt to will be unable to with very punishing results. Your owls, Hedwig and Pegleg, are banned from flying outside of Hogwarts, whether delivering mail or otherwise. This also applies to you Mr Weasley and your owl, Pugsley. Should you attempt to circumvent this, they will be restricted to a cage. Am I clear, Mr Potter? Mr Weasley?"

"Pig, sir," Ronald squeaked.

Dumbledore's scathing expression seemed to speak volumes as to the actual name of Ronald Weasley's owl.

Ron tried hard not to piss himself, which may or may not have succeeded as well as he'd hoped.

"Now, you two are to report to Professor McGonagall's office at once. Auror Camus Connelly will be your new best friend this evening, gentlemen."

The two chastened young wizards slunk away and down the stairwell past the empty spot the large gargoyle should have been, not even noticing its absence.

Fawkes warbled then passed gas that smelled strongly of fermented grapes.

Albus sighed gustily. "I quite agree."

Minerva McGonagall, Scottish witch, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wickedry— sighed very. very loudly.

Wizardry, she supposed, but it certainly had its… special moments.

She was comfortably warm, and contemplating calling off work after the night she had endured trying to devise an appropriate punishment for two exceedingly trying young wizards who were so close to graduating and yet seemed to have learned nothing in the six years they had been resident within Hogwarts.

Yawwwwwwwwwwnnnnnsqueak.

Minerva blinked.

Rrrrrwooorrrsqueak.

Thump.

Okay— that was not a normal sound for her bedroom, even when the bed in question was feeling particularly ornery.

Rrrwororllllsqueak-squeak.

Minerva sat up. Okay, what the—

Two sleepy gargoyle pups stared up at her from between half-lidded eyes and large yawns, their miniature paws working against the duvet cover, tails entwined together as their plump little bodies perfectly spooned together in an adorable puppy pile (had they been less stone-scaly). Tendrils of Dark vapour seemed to waft off them, seemingly sentient in their own way as they defied the normal act of mist, fire, or even smoke.

One was the colour of obsidian— the shimmering, almost transparent black of volcanic glass that caught every colour on its surface. It had strangely familiar, lank black hair around its head like a frill. One was a honeyed sienna brown with a riotous mane of curls tumbling around its neck. Their skin was like granite encrusted with diamond dust wherever the light hit it, the colours of what she thought had been black or even brown seemingly fleeting or changing as she stared at it.

Yawwnnnnsqueak.

The brown one snuggled into the darker one, and the darker one yawned, displaying a disturbing amount of diamond-like fangs, row after row— as if a great white shark had decided to mate with a velociprator and have a mutant child.

Minerva stared.

And stared some more.

Hogwarts hadn't had new gargoyles in centuries—

They hadn't exactly taught gargoyle biology in hundreds of years due to how unbelievably rare they were, either.

The fact that Hogwarts had one gargoyle that loyally served was a great, nay, miraculous feat in and of itself.

SccrrrrrrrrtthhththththPUUUOP!

The one gargoyle she knew, seemingly larger than she ever remembered it before, popped through the stone wall like it was nothing, making a chuffing call.

The two pups perked immediately and scrambled to attend, hopping down from the bed, tumbling off the duvet, and bouncing over to the much larger gargoyle.

The gargoyle stood over them as they licked and pawed at its lower jaw, and the huge beast made a strange hhhhck hhhhck sound as it deposited what looked like a pile of assorted gems and stones on the floor. The pups descended upon them with gusto, crunching and chewing noisily. The adult gargoyle licked them over, sending them tumbling in all directions as its tongue worked them over, and then tendrils of magic held them in place for the secondary workover. The pups protested a little at being restrained, but then rejoiced in their newfound freedom after bath number two.

The smaller pups flapped their little wings, imitating the larger one, and the adult flopped down right in the middle of Minerva's tartan-trimmed bedroom rug, allowing the pups to playfully tussle and paw at its stone scales and feathers, gnaw and pounce on its tail, and then clamber over its mane.

"Erm?" Minerva finally managed, having never had a gargoyle barge into her room for any occasion. There was only one gargoyle she thought was sentient, and the others like the staffroom gargoyles, the comedic female gargoyle that always had jokes to tell those fortunate or unfortunate enough to be in the third floor stairwell—

Well, she realised there were actually more gargoyles that she'd really given credit for, but only one that moved around the castle like an actual creature. Then again— she'd never known the Headmaster's gargoyle to ever leave its post.

A bright green gem had rolled under one of Minerva's chairs, and the sienna pup set after it. Her pudgy little body got stuck between the wooden leg ornaments, and while she did get her emerald prize, she was now stuck.

Hrrrrowlllfff! she protested, her back end wriggling along with the front, her leonine tail lashing back and forth as her wings protested the predicament.

The black pup seemed to sigh, stood up, and clamped his jaws around her floofy mane and growl-tugged, his obsidian claws sticking into the ground and scraping as he struggled to release her.

Minerva blinked. Her? Him? How was she to know, truly? Yet—

The adult gargoyle watched the pair rather lazily, seemingly unconcerned by their antics.

SsshhhhrrrrrPOP!

The sienna pup suddenly popped out of the trap, tumbling arse over teakettle, and flopped wearily on top of the black one.

Hrrsqueak, the brown one seemed to apologise.

Hrrrrmph, the black one replied, tail flopping from one side to the other in seeming annoyance.

The sienna pup crunched the emerald in half and shared it with the black one, and they both crunched into their pieces with a satisfying munching session.

Whuff, the adult said, standing up, turning to leave.

Minerva watched the adult walk straight into a wall and disappear as if it were an illusion, and the pups scurried after. They thumped into the wall, dazed and shaking their heads.

The adult's head came in through the wall and engulfed them, pulling them through the stonework like it was nothing at all.

Minerva just stared until her floo abruptly came to life.

"Minerva!"

"Yes, Albus?" she answered, rubbing her head.

"We seem to have a problem."

"What now?" Did she say that out loud? Minerva wasn't really sure.

"I'm afraid that Severus and Miss Granger have gone missing."

"WHAT?!" Minerva shrieked.

Severus opened his eyes and yawned, slightly annoyed by the cute-sounding squeak that punctuated it. His tail lashed back and forth with his annoyance, but then a warm body snuggled up next to him and made all his discontented thoughts derail completely.

Warmth and safety seemed utterly guaranteed as he snuggled into that radiant, soothing comfort.

He knew there had been something that was bothering him from before, but such thoughts seemed to swim away like fish from the unknown. There were other priorities on his mind: warmth, food, home, protect—

Protect what?

Home.

Where was home?

"Here, obviously," she answered him, her leonine tail swishing as she nuzzled his muzzle. "Ædeweard says so."

Seemed logical enough.

The elder gargoyle seemed quite learned in the ways of life enough to be utterly unflappable, and his tail was so utterly impossible not to want to pounce. "Home" seemed rather comfy— cozy in some places, too noisy in others. Ædeweard seemed to think the area before the stairs was a perfectly respectable place to guard, and there were a number of other gargoyles about the castle that loved the other staircases—

Most of them didn't want to move about, though.

Booooooring.

Ædeweard was still teaching them how to walk through the walls. It was all about realising they really weren't there to begin with, he said. But of course they were there. Where else would they be?

Hermione seemed to catch on faster, and she's ploughed right through a "wall" the other day while chasing a tasty gem.

She was always playing with her food.

At least she shared the spoils when the play was done. Emeralds had the most satisfying crunch. Rubies did too, but they were really spicy. Diamonds were a little lacking in flavour, but when eaten with other stones and gems, they made for a more satisfying mouthful. Granite and marble made excellent chews. Marble seemed creamy and melted in your mouth, making you drool a bit more, though. Alabaster was really smooth, but it made you really thirsty after eating.

SNAP!

Ædeweard's mouth enveloped a wayward Niffler that was trying to steal their dinner. The Niffler had a panicked look about it as the elder gargoyle shook him back and forth and upside down, dumpling out the gems and—

That was a lot of stuff!

The empty-pounced Niffler seemed to sulk as Ædeweard used his tail to swat the creature down the hallway, driving it away from them.

Ædeweard shook his mane and separated the edibles from the other shiny objects, using his magical tendrils to shove the gems into the stonework where they could be taken later and snacked on but hidden from rampaging dinner-stealing Nifflers.

Severus eyed the shiny platters, necklaces, and rings with curiosity.

Ædeweard shoved them to the side for the humans to trip over.

The Niffler "sneakily" returned to shove the items back into its pouch just an instant before Ædeweard's tail came smashing down upon its head. It squeaked in terror as his paw "missed" the creature by a mere sliver.

Severus chuckled to himself. It wouldn't ever be trying to steal from them again.

SNAP!

Hermione growled victoriously as her mouth caged a different Niffler, this one being white with black spots. The creature squealed in terror, knowing its end was nigh.

Hermione shook her head back and forth, driven by instinct to paralyse her prey, yet a part of her seemed to be chock full of mischief. She got the Niffler covered in stone drool and then let it "slip" out of her mouth to splat against the floor. The quick-drying stone cement caught the unlucky Niffler in place where its paws hit the ground.

Severus swat the ground next to the Niffler, and it passed out in fear.

Hermione seemed to frown, nosing the playmate with disappointment.

Severus nosed her, offering comfort. She perked at his touch and play-pounced him, sinking her teeth into his scruff and growling. They tumbled together until he pinned her with his greater mass, and she squeaked in surrender as his teeth delicately pinched the skin of her throat.

She wiggled under him, tail swishing, and he let her up, giving her a tolerant lick on the muzzle.

He could barely admit it to himself, but he felt very protective of her, and she trusted him never to overdo it when they played. Something about that trust made him feel all warm inside again, and he couldn't remember why.

"I like your wings," Hermione decided out loud, grooming his left wing with thorough doses of stone-slobber. The slobber hardened, cracked and fell off, leaving his wing pristine and supple.

He eyed her with an arched brow. "Something wrong with yours, hrm?"

"Nope," Hermione said, seeming to shrug. "But yours are really attractive."

Severus sat down on his rump and thought about that, unsure of how to react to that.

Part of him puffed up at her praise, and another part of him seemed to think there was something he was forgetting.

One of the humans was walking by again. Older. Short— well, for a human.

"Go, assist in the patrol," Ædeweard said with a yawn. "Bite anything that dares threaten the peace."

Severus perked. Biting sounded like an excellent idea.

Hermione seemed to be excited to do something too.

"Remember how to come back?" the elder gargoyle asked.

FOOOOOOP!

Thump.

Hermione appeared on top of Ædeweard's head.

The elder gargoyle gave her a good lick and thump with his paw. "Off you go."

Severus sighed. Hermione was such a know-it-all.

"I'll teach you, if you teach me how to fly without wings," Hermione whispered as she pounce-chewed on his ear on the way by.

Severus perked. "Deal!"

Flitwick knew something significant had changed at Hogwarts, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it.

Lollygaggers and broom closet snoggers would tumble out from behind curtains rubbing their backsides like something had bitten them. Pranksters would cry out as their own pranks backfired on themselves. Lost first years would suddenly find themselves un-lost. Troublemakers would suddenly find themselves stuck to the floor by their legs— their entire leg from the knee down seemingly covered in stone.

Yet, he never saw what had caused such changes in fortune for wayward students.

Even more strangely—

The hub-bub caused by the Auror escort of Saint bloody Potter and his red-headed tumour seemed to have spread and simmered down to less protest and more acceptance that maybe, just maybe people could go too far. Even the Chosen One couldn't get away with everything.

That, perhaps, was the most critical lesson to instil in the students of Hogwarts: fairness.

Even the headmaster seemed resigned to the fact that his old House was slowly getting the air let out of its puffed-up ego, and the war was looming ever darker on the horizon.

Slytherin was darkening every term— the shadows of the parents threatening to drag the children down to their own depths. Flitwick was not a fool, thinking that all Slytherin were inherently evil, no, but he knew that the majority of Slytherin was pureblood or half-blood, and the families had roots deep in a society where blood was everything— power was everything. The war threatened both, and desperation often drove people to do terrible things.

Yet—

The vicious attacks against Muggles and Muggle-born supporters had started to taper off. The Ministry was conflicted, trying to both protect and deny—

Flitwick was not a politician, nor did he ever wish to be. He'd done his own fair share of fighting for his place in the world being born half-goblin. The goblins believed him to be an outsider as he had been raised to be a wizard rather than a proper goblin. He didn't want to see more people punished for societal norms.

"Um, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, Professor, could you possibly help me get my shoes back?"

Luna stared up at the ceiling where about fifty pairs of shows hung by their strings.

"I don't really need them, but I do miss having them around when Gemma forgets to pick up her gobstones."

Filius stared up at the ceiling and boggled— but it wasn't the shoes that caused his brain to derail.

Miss Chang and Miss Edgecombe were hanging upside down by their cemented feet, their mouths covered in plaster, and many, many pairs of shoes hung there like icicles, stuck by the laces into the dried cement. Their wands were stuck in the mouth of shoes just out of reach, and both girls were frozen in a pointing, giggling, state of blatant mockery.

Filius cracked his neck and rubbed the area behind his ear. "Of course, Miss Lovegood, but if you could please tell me how long this has been going on?"

"Oh, ever since my first year, I suppose," Luna said rather vaguely. "It must be all the wrackspurts. They seem to affect people in different ways."

Flitwick blanched. He charmed a piece of parchment into an origami dove and sent it flying off towards the Headmaster's office. "Well, I think it's time we all had a long talk. You, me, and these two… remarkably objectionable young… ah, ladies."

His expression darkened as he wove the spells to bring the female bullies floating back to Earth once more.

Severus raced after Hermione as she scrambled up the side of Hogwarts, her claws digging into the stone-like earth as she propelled herself forward. He realised as she raced ahead that he had to use certain other advantages to get ahead.

I remembered things— or knew things, he wasn't quite sure which— and suddenly his body was aloft and he was flying very, very fast. He shot forward and pounced her from above, sending Hermione tumbling helplessly onto the ramparts with a series of indignant, unhappy squeaks of pure annoyance.

Severus flopped down on top of her, utterly victorious, his tail swishing back and forth in unmistakable triumph.

He nosed her.

She ignored him.

He tugged on her ear.

She turned her head away, determined to keep ignoring him.

He tried to nuzzle her.

She smacked her wing against his face and pushed him away.

Severus slumped, abruptly realising that he'd cheated to win their ground race and made her upset with him. He whined softly and clawed at the flagstone, a hum of earthen magic transforming the flagstone into a rain of raw mineral clusters.

Unfortunately, it also destroyed the stone they were laying on, and the pair of them went tumbling down into the room below in an impressive avalanche of random minerals.

The two pups groaned and squeak-growled together, unsure what to make of their predicament as they found themselves in a hidden room with many, many stone gargoyles caught in various poses— frozen in mid-roars, snarls, and menacing expressions. Around them were piles and piles of gemstones, raw, polished, cut, and otherwise, everything mixing with the shower of precious gems that had been recently made by one apologetic gargoyle pup.

"Eeeru?" Hermione made a questioning squeak, nosing the leg of a nearby gargoyle.

Severus sat completely entranced by the glowing gem in the middle of the room. It shimmered with unmistakably powerful magic, beams reaching out in all directions as if from sunlight only it was clear there were no windows and no light came from the outside until their rather impromptu tumble.

Hermione seemed to ponder the glowing gem from the opposite side, the both of them feeling a strange stirring in their stomach. Driven by some overpowering instinctual hunger, the two leapt upon the gem and started to devour it, their relatively tiny teeth working hard to pulverise the magical mineral and channel it down into their demanding stomachs.

The moment the gem had been devoured between them, they each belched out a glowing cloud of magical vapour. Their fight forgotten, they curled up together, snuggling as closely as possible with the other as a deep, irresistible drowsiness claimed them— their bellies full and their curiosity assuaged.

They didn't even notice as hairline cracks formed in each of the surrounding gargoyles' stone surfaces— their frozen guardians burst through a layer of protective stone shards and began to move once more.

The room full of newly awakened gargoyles landed on all fours, snarling, growling, and ready to take on some menace they had only just identified. Yet, no such threat seemed to exist. They sat down on their rumps and looked around, understandably confused.

A female snuffled the two pups that had curled up to sleep, her beautiful topaz-encrusted wings shimmering as the outside light filtered down through the damaged ceiling. Another joined her, a pair of amethyst horns twisting around her head like a crown. A garnet and ruby studded female barged between them and immediately flopped down next to the pups and nosed them both under her wing, giving the pair a thorough tongue bath before protectively enclosing them in her wing.

A curious set of eyes peered down into the broken room from above, Ædeweard looking rather stunned by the new development.

"How long have we been frozen?" the scarlet female asked, protectively wrapping the two pups against her body.

"It seems like an age's age, Edolie," Ædeweard replied grimly. "Many headmasters have come and gone since you vanished. Many at Hogwarts believed there were but only a few gargoyles left, and only a lesser few able to converse and roam about the castle."

The crimson gargoyle shook her mane, tending to the sleepy pups against her side. "How did you find yourself pups, Ædeweard? If it has been as long as you say, any from then would have long been grown—"

The elder gargoyle whuffed, scratching the back of his neck with a hind leg. "The curse creation spell— as of olde."

The other gargoyles gasped together.

"But it takes the power of an entire family to power that curse—" a blue granite male sputtered in disbelief.

"Aye, Oswin," Ædeweard said grimly. The wee female took the brunt of it— but in saving the male from the magic drain, he shared in the curse that she would not be alone."

"Fleta— you knew a cursed one, yes?"

The pink and grey speckled gargoyle stretched and flapped her wings. "Aye. It was the ancient one, Keyon. One of the originals. He and Bede founded many lines before moving to settle in France. They say it was a great Cathedral. Thousands of gargoyles. That was a long time ago, my friend. Long before our great sleep."

"Rare for a human cursed to survive the curse— to willingly accept the transformation to survive. While many wish to live, few wish to lose what they consider most important: their humanity." The elder female yawned toothily, her crystalline teeth shining brightly.

"I've watched these two for years, Gytha," Ædeweard said with a sniff. "They both possess a strong will to survive— even stronger personalities. But— at the core of them— they were both terribly lonely souls. They were already isolated amongst their own."

"They seem like perfectly content pups to me," a malachite-coloured male said, sticking his nose under Edolie's wing to sniff them and give them a few good licks.

The pups squirmed and cuddled against each other tighter, each yawning and melding to the other for warmth and comfort.

"More than you realise, Bede," Edolie said. "Their bond is only growing stronger. By the time they are grown, mating will be a mere formality."

"Truly? I mean—" Bede cocked his head. "I realised we don't have a full rookery to choose from, but surely—"

Ædeweard snorted. "Look at them, Bede. Do you think we cuddled with anyone but our own intendeds like that? During which our very magicks blended together in perfect harmony?"

Bede made an odd face. "I suppose not."

Gytha experimentally grabbed Hermione up by the scruff and picked her up.

Hermione wriggled and whimpered, squeaking unhappily in protest.

Severus immediately poked his head out from under Edolie's wing and growled lowly. His stone-like fur stood on end, bristling like an angry hedgehog, and he slammed himself directly into the elder gargoyle's face.

Gytha dropped Hermione in surprise, and Hermione landed with a startled squeak-yelp.

Severus soft-mouthed her wing and pulled her into the corner, placing his body in front of hers in an unmistakably protective gesture, his magic bristling around him like a nest of writhing tentacles.

Gytha blinked. "I, um, bow to your superior vision, Ædeweard."

Edolie thumped over to the pups and took them both by the scruff, seeming to fold her jaws around them exponentially, and tucked them back under her wing. She ignored Severus' indignant squeak-growl of protective protest as she snuggled them against her side and wrapped her wing tightly over them both. "Males. Don't be riling up his protective ire so soon. They still have growing to do."

"You just arrived and are already bossing us about," Ædeweard complained halfheartedly.

"I've been here all along, dearie," Edolie sniffed delicately. "I just haven't moved around all that much."

Ædeweard rolled his eyes. "Technicality."

Edolie gave the pups a loving series of grooming licks. "It's good to have pups again. Our clan has missed them greatly. Even before the sleep—"

An aquamarine gargoyle with a leonine mane lay beside her, nuzzling her gently. "Perhaps, we shall all try again, Edolie. If we can have pups now— then perhaps it is a sign that many more are to come."

The crimson gargoyle's expression softened as she nuzzled the other back. "Thanks, Tyne. I hope so."

Ædeweard frowned. "But, how is it you were sleeping for so long to begin with?"

The other gargoyles shook their heads together.

"The last I remember was a human boy giving us the most beautiful stone for our collection."

Ædeweard scowled harder. "Riddle."

"What happened to the stone?" Tyne asked.

Ædeweard gave him a sideways glance. "I'm pretty sure the pups ate it."

"All hail the gargoyle pups' bottomless stomachs," Bede said dryly.

Internal Memo

To: Healers, all, St Mungos

From: Master Healer Kendric McLeod

There has been an unprecedented loss of magic occurring in over fifty magical families. All of them have ties to Y-K-W. via a Dark Mark tattoo worn upon their left arm or else significant magical blood ties to a person who does have it.

There will be mandatory overtime and sleeping quarters made available at the hospital until we can stabilise the affected patients and make sure they are not losing their grip on what little magic they may have left. No one works over fourteen hours in a stretch even with breaks. We don't need mistakes being made in this. All meals will be provided for you along with snacks, energy potions, and as much good British tea as you can drink.

I appreciate all of your hard work in this time of crisis, and I know many of you are deeply concerned about your own families as well. The good news is, it does not appear to be contagious outside the families that have already been affected. The bad news is, the magical drain seems to be triggered from somewhere well "outside" of where our best diagnostic scans can trace.

What I can tell you is that it seems to have something to do with our Patient X, Mr Sirius Orion Black. He was our very first fully drained victim, and I suspect that somehow whatever spell he cast didn't have enough magic to pull from his immediate family and so it went searching further for other familial bonds. Muggleborns, ironically enough, are immune. I fear it is because they have no blood relation distant or present to the old blood.

The only reassurance I can give you is that once the spell acquired the full amount of magic that was required to power the spell, it appears to have tapered off for the most part. At least as far as we can determine at this point. I suspect that a trigger clause remains possible, but I have yet to confirm my theory.

Until we confirm it, everyone must do their best to stabilise who we have and also contain the paranoia that this is some kind of plague.

Hermione poked her head out from under Edolie's wing and yawn-squeaked. Severus' head followed after, a sleepy look making his brows knit together and his ears swivel in different directions.

Hermione pegged his muzzle with a tender lick and bounced out from the safety of Edolie's warmth, ready for new adventures.

Severus' sleepy frown transformed into alertness, and he followed her, driven to protect her from all comers.

Hermione always seems to lead on, nose first, her curiosity paving the way, and he found himself following behind, ready to defend her from any and all danger. The drive to protect was strong, but the drive to protect Hermione was even stronger.

He wasn't sure why, but he didn't really question it. The adults all protected their home, but that seemed like a bit too much to chew— like trying to devour an entire mountain when your stomach was only the size of a pebble. He was perfectly happy focusing his attention on protecting Hermione. It gave him a sense of purpose and settled something in his stomach he couldn't quite place.

That and—

Well, it seemed like they needed each other.

He, for example, could transform solid stone into raw gems.

But consuming raw gems was a lot like eating that bland stuff the long-ears kept in the castle kitchens. Alone, it was pretty boring.

Hermione, however, could turn the gems into a great pile of tasty, faceted food, filled with deliciously concentrated energy and magic.

It seemed like a perfectly sound relationship of teamwork to him.

Hermione came to a sudden halt, ears swivelling. He clumsily slammed into her rump, and she squeaked indignantly at him. Severus chewed her ear apologetically, and she glowered a bit but then seemed to sigh and accept his apology. She squeaked softly and pointed her nose in another direction.

He looked.

Most of the time, they didn't need words to make their thoughts known, but he wondered what was going on in Hermione's head at that given moment.

Oh.

Hermione cocked her head and did her best bobblehead impression, her head moving back and forth as if she was watching a match at Wimbledon. Severus saw a student pacing back and forth, and back and forth, and—

Severus sat down hard and covered his eyes for a moment. He was getting pretty dizzy.

"We have to find her, Ron."

"Harry, mate, it's really not a good idea to mess about with those kinds of curses. Ancient family magic curses!"

"That's never stopped us before! This is Sirius we're talking about! We have to get him back!"

"It's never been a thing before!" Ron protested hotly. "There are nasty curses like Bill deals with every day— and then there are curses like what Sirius used! Family-magic-bound curses! It's linked to the blood, to the family of the user. Do you even realise that most of the pureblood families are interrelated?! Harry, it could backlash back to anyone with connections to the Black family. MY family, Harry. You could steal the magic from all of us, Harry!"

Hermione was frowning, the wrinkles around her muzzle deepening.

There was something about this particular human, the one with an untidy mop of black hair that was troubling her deeply, that much he could tell.

There was something about him—

It made him want to pee all over his shoes.

What a strange compulsion!

"We have to help Sirius, Ron."

"He's been completely drained of magic, Harry!" Ron's voice squeaked in mid-sentence. "He's in a coma!"

"We can find Hermione and get her to reverse it!"

"Do you bloody hear yourself?! Sirius did it to himself! I know you have some big dream that you and Sirius are going to swan off together and be free of the Dursleys, but it's just two more years and you can live wherever the hell you want, mate! With Sirius. With whoever. There is a ruddy blood war out there. You hear it at the meetings. Even before Hermione got—"

The red-haired human boy nervously ruffled his hair with both hands. "Harry, Dumbledore said you have to stay away from her."

"I can't!" Harry yelled, resulting in some of the portraits beginning to mutter uneasily around them. "It's because of her he's cursed!"

Hermione made a discomfited sound in her throat, pressing up against Severus' body, and he nuzzled her to reassure her.

Someone other than their own knew Hermione's name?

Impossible.

Why would a human have Hermione's name?

"You yourself were almost drained of magic, Harry!" the red-head argued.

"Almost. I'm protected!"

"You're mad! You just got lucky! And damned lucky at that!"

"You know how much Sirius means to me!"

"And what are the rest of us? Nothing? You'd drain us all of magic just for a slim chance to get Sirius back?"

The silence was thick and ominous. Harry's face was practically beetroot red with barely suppressed rage, and his magic was leaking out as it tried to escape and lash out. It sent a stinging slash in Ron's direction, and soon a small bead of blood was trickling down Ron's freckled cheek.

Ron held his cheek, shooting a disbelieving expression at his friend. "You really need to sort out your priorities, mate, before you become just like bloody You-Know-Who. Not caring who you have to hurt as long as you get what you want. Who you have to step on. Who you have to make bleed. You used to say you didn't want to be anything like him, but what do you think you look like right now, eh?"

Ron shook his head, still clutching his bleeding cheek. He stormed off, leaving Harry alone in the hall save for two gargoyle pups who were carefully making like statuaries.

"RAAAAGHH!" Harry exclaimed, kicking the nearest inanimate object and then cursing up a storm as his foot did its level best to swell out of his ratty old trainers.

The wizard stormed down the hallway with a limp.

Hermione hung her head low, looking extraordinarily guilty, her ears drooping, and her mane limp in distress. Even her wings seemed to sag in misery.

Severus realised that hearing her name spoken with such vehemence had not been a good experience for Hermione, and so he nosed her very gently, whine-squeaking his affection and encouragement.

"It's not your fault," he said softly, nosing and head-bumping her.

He said it was me. He seems so strangely familiar. Maybe it was me! Maybe I'm a horrible creature!"

"Don't be ridiculous," he admonished her sternly. "You're not like that at all even I know that."

Hermione looked unsure, but Severus grasped her ear with his mouth and tugged on it. They wrestled, growled, and squeaked until their momentum slammed them both into an ugly statue of a wizard with his foot over the dead "trophy" of a starved-looking barely grown dragon. It toppled over onto a pink-clad woman who was apparently skulking around in Hogwarts' shadows.

The toad-faced woman let out a frightful screech, and Hermione and Severus immediately bristled and growled and postured, even though they were completely unsure what to expect.

A burst of surprise caused Severus' magic to instinctively react, and the screeching human turned into a fat toad-shaped fountain spitting out rainbow water into a large basin filled with psychedelic-patterned plants, shimmering water, and equally disturbing, a school of glowing (yet oddly cute) miniature catfish. The other hidden statue was now poised as a toga-wearing young maiden sitting by the fountain with a decorative water urn clutched in her hands.

The two pups eyed each other rather guiltily and then tore off down the hallway, phasing through a solid stone wall in their haste to be away from the scene of their unintentional crime.

"Well, I say that is quite an improvement," one of the portraits said.

"Here, here," another chimed with feeling as the light in the hall dimmed and the portraits finally went to sleep.

Dolores Umbridge Disappears on Her Way to Meet with Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Madam Dolores Umbridge never returned from a routine meeting with the headmaster of Hogwarts, and no one has reported seeing her after she left the Ministry that day. Headmaster Dumbledore stated that Umbridge never showed up for her morning appointment, and she had not contacted any member of staff upon her arrival. It remains undetermined if Umbridge even arrived there at all.

Minister Cornelius Fudge has offered a five hundred galleon reward for information leading to her safe return, but so far no one has come forward.

Albus eyed the new statuary that had shown up in one of the school greens with frank curiosity.

"Odd that I don't remember ever seeing this particular fountain before, but— the house elves have been a little overzealous in cleaning out previously unused areas of late."

Minerva looked on the toad fountain with a combination of fascination and mild horror, unsure which expression was more fitting.

The firsties were having fun playing with the catfish and rainbow water, and Slughorn had already taken samples of the water to see if there were beneficial properties.

Oddly, the water seemed to be a pure seltzer with natural carbonation and minerals, the colours seeming to have no effect on it. The school of rather odd catfish seemed utterly at home in it, requiring no other food to survive— but they did make short work of any bits of sandwich or sweets that happened to fall in.

The psychedelic plant life that lined the fountain glowed, even in daytime, but the night show was so entertaining that students had started to gather in the area to study and amuse themselves watching the antics of the fish in the fountain.

"I quite like it," a delighted Flitwick said, grinning as he stroked his chin with his fingers. "Perhaps one of the students crafted it while practicing transfiguration and charms. I do hope it's permanent. It's quite a good display."

Hagrid attempted to drag Fang out to keep him from drinking the bubbling water. The terrified kitten and catfish fled in terror from the large boarhound's snuffling and eager lapping. Then the thirsty dog let out a long, loud belch and started to float away.

"Fang! Get back here!" Hagrid bellowed, chasing after the floating dog. Every additional belch carried the huge dog higher and further away.

Fang, seemingly enjoying his most unusual bout of high-flying eructation, rolled ecstatically in the air like he was on the ground, making odd sounds of canine pleasure.

Pomona was taking numerous clippings for her greenhouses from the fountain's bounty of unique plants, and the feline-fish were making cute bubbles as they playfully tickled her fingers with their mouths.

"Well, if this was what Madam Undersecretary wished to bring to us at the staff meeting she missed, then I suppose it can do no harm in remaining here. I do not detect any sign of curses or traps set upon it—" Dumbledore trailed off, apparently thinking about something.

Kuheeeek!

Fawkes warbled a series of odd chuckling sounds from atop the toad's head. He smashed a coconut on the toad's head until it cracked open the green outer husk and hardened brown endocarp so he could pillage the creamy white inner treasure within.

The fountain's water changed colour with every bash.

"Did you ever find out what Madam Umbridge wanted to meet with you about?" Minerva asked as Dumbledore stroked his beard.

Albus shook his head. "No, Minerva. I had believed she must have had some rather important Ministry business to attend to."

The fountain water shifted from pink to a rather disturbing shade of crimson, and the catfish swam around in an utter panic.

Albus tilted his head in bemusement. "Fascinating."

Fawkes smashed another green coconut over the toad statue's head, and the burbling water shifted back into a bright pink colour. The terrified catfish immediately settled down, looking far less distressed.

"You did try and cast some reversal spells on this fountain in case—" Flitwick began to say.

"Aye," Albus confirmed. "I will have the Aurors make certain, of course," he said. "No student, familiar, or staff is currently missing save for Miss Granger and Severus. And they were missing before this delightful fountain turned up."

"Minerva," Albus added. "You seem a bit, well, distressed, my dear. Is something on your mind?"

Minerva sighed. "I just can't help but think that we're missing something as of late. The new fountain, Severus and Miss Granger both missing, seeing new gargoyles moving about—"

Albus' bushy eyebrows knit together. "Gargoyles?"

Minerva nodded. "Yes. Your own gargoyle had two young pups following him about just the other day."

Albus boggled silently. "That likely explains why he was missing last night. I thought it was somewhat strange at the time. Oddly, there was another gargoyle guarding there in his place, so I figured the castle was just playing tricks on me again."

"Gargoyles haven't been active around here since the mid-forties," Flitwick observed. "Back when Headmaster Dippett was still here. They just seemed to disappear save for a few. How very curious."

Flitwick seemed to ponder something intently. "It could explain why the troublemakers are now being plastered to the walls and ceilings in various places— gargoyles do tend to be quite vigilant indeed when they have the numbers to pull it off. The old Hogwarts: A History said that gargoyle magic is what helped maintain the school over the years. To have their return in numbers can only mean good things for the school's structure and safety." Flitwick, Ravenclaw to the core, recalled random factoids about most any subject with unerring accuracy.

"Most curious, indeed," Dumbledore said absently, stroking his beard and appearing lost in thought.

Severus eyed Hermione a bit wistfully as she chewed on a large chunk of raw mineral, transforming it into a gem that was quickly becoming hard to ignore. It smelled absolutely delicious, and he really wanted it. She growled at him, not finished in her task, and he sat down on his rump, tail twitching eagerly in anticipation.

Her crystalline teeth scraped and chiselled away as her tongue polished each side to a glistening glow as magic concentrated inside it, swirling within in delicious temptation.

Kthhllurp!

A highly polished, perfectly faceted emerald landed at his feet, and he eagerly snatched it up and set to devouring it, his teeth shaving it down to release the magic as he ate.

Ahhh, perfection.

Hermione looked at him with amusement, her tail looping in obvious pleasure.

She was so talented.

He pounced and tussled with her after his meal, pinning her down to groom her ears, and she wilted into his attention and allowed his ministrations.

Females were the gem cutters, he had come to realise. Those like him— they created the raw minerals. But those like Hermione— they turned them into powerful, shimmering meals.

Ædeweard said that humans coveted gargoyle gems— wanting them for both pretty baubles to wear or display and for use as powerful foci for their magic.

Why would you want to wear food? That was just silly.

Something tickled at the back of his mind that there were many more uses for such gems than being a food source, but he was somewhat ambivalent about that. He'd rather eat them than wear them— or at least store them away.

He had squirrelled away about a thousand or so gems that Hermione had whittled into perfection, setting them in the very stone of Hogwarts' walls.

Safe and unseen.

Still, he much preferred the freshly-made gemstones from Hermione. Nothing else could beat that sheer perfection.

Hermione pulled on one of his ears, growling playfully, and she wrestled his head down so she could groom him properly. He tolerated her affectionate shenanigans with a soft whuff of tolerance. She'd been feeling low ever since the incident with the human wizard boy who had somehow known her name, and that made Severus extremely cranky.

And a cranky Severus tended to roam in search of ways to focus that frustration— provided Hermione was safely tucked away under Edolie's wing to sleep.

He'd been carefully watching the mop-haired wizard boy for days, trailing him like a silent shadow as he wandered around Hogwarts, and the other humans seemed to be a bit wary of him as well.

The only two words that seemed to keep coming out of his mouth were "Sirius" and "Hermione." Whatever the boy had going on in his head, he was clearly beyond obsessed with it, to the point where his red-headed mate was drawing the line and shaking his head in dismay. Mind you, he certainly wasn't alone in that. The humans lived together in shared rooms but separate beds (odd, in his opinion, as gargoyles liked to sleep close to each other regardless of their relationship) and they had all seemed to grow quite tired of his constant plotting and the obvious need for some kind of decisive action.

Still, the human didn't seem to have any plan in mind that didn't involve the help of said compatriots, and those comrades were not being particularly chummy, much less open to his ideas judging by their stiff and unwelcoming body language.

What was it about that particular human that made him so uneasy?

Hermione had rolled on her back and playfully batted at his chin to invite him to play, and with that, all of his other thoughts went tumbling away into the ether. He growl-pounced, and they tussled again, rolling around and chasing each other down the halls and through the greens just outside the view of the oblivious humans.

That suited him just fine. He rather enjoyed being right there in plain sight and yet so obviously unseen.

"Dobby cannot do what you is asking, Harry Potter," the house-elf said, tugging on his ears nervously. "What you ask is impossible. Dobby is very sorry, Harry Potter sir."

"Why? Why can't you do it?!" Harry yelled. "Why is no one willing to help me!"

"Is not the not wanting to," Dobby objected, pulling on his ears even harder. "Is Dobby cannot do it. Magic be terribly angry with Harry Potter's dogfather and punished him, it did. We cannot go against will of magic itself. Dobby would be punished. Magic taken away. Other house-elves be worried they be punished too. Punish Dobby in advance if they thinks that Dobby try to help Harry Potter defy magic."

"So you're not going to help me because you're scared of magic?"

Dobby frowned. "House-elves are of magic, Harry Potter sir. Without magic, we dies. We defy magic; magic leaves. If magic leaves, elf dies. Bring great shame and dishonour to all elves. Does not need to be unfreed elf to feel this way. Is true for every elf. Dobby even more in danger— Dobby is free elf. Free elf is not bound to family magic to protect Dobby. Dobby prefers this, but makes Dobby more vulnerable."

"Then you could bond to me and be safe!" Harry insisted.

"Dobby cannot, Harry Potter sir," Dobby said. "Bonding takes full magic of strong wizard family— even with one member family. Yous has only part of you magic left. Dogfather Black's spell stole much of Harry Potter's magic to power his bad spell. Only evil scar saved you— drained others connected to it instead of you because more power needed than what yous had."

Harry sat down hard on the floor, shaking his head in stubborn denial. "No, I need Sirius back, don't you understand?! My magic is just as strong as ever and I can prove it! Expecto Patronum!" he cried with a swift flick of his wand.

A faint, sputtering glow came from his wand, but Prongs didn't appear. A stunned Harry slumped and clutched at his left chest as a strange, hollow, almost pained feeling seemed to empty out every last drop of energy he had.

"Yous in grave danger, Harry Potter," Dobby said softly, his big green eyes both solemn and serious. "Much safer in here until yous magic recovers— if magic yous takes care to not offend."

"Mr Potter, whatever are you doing down there?" McGonagall said as she halted her patrol in shock upon finding him curled up in a foetal ball on the floor.

"It can't be true," Harry moaned miserably. "It can't be."

"What can't be true, Mr Potter?" Minerva asked with a frown as she helped a weak and staggering Harry to his feet.

"How can half of my magic be gone?!" Harry cried.

McGonagall's face softened with pity. "It was a very cruel spell that your godfather used, Mr Potter, but most of all because it was exceptionally Dark and powerful, and such spells require an enormous input of equally powerful magic in recompense. Magic is a balancing act— and if it cannot find the magic in the one who cast it, it will find it in anyone connected to them. It is why such spells fell out of favour long ago. Only the rarest of families have sufficient members with magic enough to power such a spell and not be drained completely afterwards, even then. Now— well, it is next to impossible."

"Come, I'm taking you to the hospital wing. Poppy will need to give you a proper looking over."

"But—"

"No buts, Mr Potter."

"Yes, ma'am."

Hermione made a soft squeak of mischief as she climbed on the human bed. The purple duvet was covered in silver stars, swirling and moving like a real constellation across the (albeit) purple sky.

Severus eyed the human bed with nervous suspicion. They'd never been in this particular room before, but they had seen the main office many a time. Alas, there seemed to be an avid discussion going on in the office, and the two pups had fled into the next room to avoid being seen.

They had fully intended to jump through the wall, but Hermione's curious nose had sniffed up something that made the rest of her follow. She snuffled the pillows and sneezed, and then she rolled on the duvet with a soft whuff-groan of pleasure as the duvet rubbed her back and wings.

Severus placed his head on the edge of the bed, looking at her with a combination of longing and vigilance, not wanting to be caught red-pawed on a human bed. His head caused the edge of the mattress to sink from the weight, and he realised it was oddly comfortable. His rump wiggled as his posterior decided it wanted the rest of him to press on.

THUMP!

He landed next to Hermione, nuzzling and snuffling and laying beside her, his ears swivelling to keep tabs on what was going on in the next room.

It was pretty comfy—

He lay his head over Hermione's flank, and she yawn-squeaked, closing her eyes.

Oh, no! This wasn't the time to sleep—

But—

So comfy.

His eyes drifted closed without his permission.

"BUT WHY IS MY MAGIC AFFECTED!"

The gargoyle pups startled awake together, touching butts, startling again, and took off in two different directions. Hermione went tumbling off the far side of the bed with a soft thump as she fell into some pillows. Severus took out the desk lamp and bedside table with a surprised squeak just as he caught the lamp between his legs to keep it from crashing down.

A small box on the table spun out of control, ricocheted off a bowl of lemon sherbets, and forcibly ejected its contents.

Ting. Ting. Ting. Ting—

A golden ring with a delicious-smelling stone came tumbling down toward his open and surprised maw.

Snap!

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Severus swallowed the delicious snack, his tongue licking over his diamondlike teeth as a sickly green vapour escaped his mouth, formed into a twisted human face, and then dissipated. He licked and licked the gold out from his teeth.

Metals were sweet but terribly sticky and malleable. They got stuck between his teeth and he tasted it for hours.

"This is not up for debate, Harry!" a voice came from the other room, louder now.

Footsteps were coming closer.

Severus scrambled over to where Hermione was, tugging on her scruff to get her up out of the pillows. She had a purple spangled pillowcase on her head, covering it completely. He tugged on it, and her head came out with a sshhhhllllPOP!

The two pups tore towards the nearest wall and jumped into it, disappearing with the oddly subtle sound of shifting rock.

Dumbledore looked into his bedchambers with a frown and turned back towards Harry.

"Harry, the subtleties of family-magic-anchored spells is something that caused such spells to be buried for a reason," Dumbledore said. "The fact that your magic was not drained completely in compensation was solely due to the 'luck' that your scar connected you to a vast extended 'family' of magic that paid the remainder of the price instead of you. This will allow your magic to slowly recover… in time. While we may scoff about blood and magic in a modern Wizarding world, Harry, the truth is, it is the blood of your family— the Muggle part— that saved your life. Had your magic been bound to solely a pureblood line, you would have perished. And it is in all likelihood— your blood that helped in combination with the scar— that magic was able to pull its price from the Dark Lord and his minions."

"But why is it punishing me?" Harry bemoaned. "Haven't I suffered enough?"

"Harry, the fact is, my boy," Dumbledore said carefully, "that Sirius Black started this cascade of unfortunate events. Even if Miss Granger had not stepped in when she did and Severus was struck instead, I fear that Sirius doomed himself the very moment he cast that terrible spell. It would have ended precisely the same, regardless. He would still be completely drained of his magic. You would still be affected as well. Sirius would still be facing a severely altered life if and when he should awaken from his current comatose state. If he had any magic left, he would be facing Azkaban for attacking—"

"But Snape deserv—!"

"No, Harry," Albus said firmly, fixing the angry young wizard with a stern non-twinkling gaze. "No person deserves what that spell was designed to do. No one. That is the most important lesson that I have failed to teach you, and for that, I am truly sorry. I should have instilled in you early on the great importance Severus has with regard to a great many things. I thought, quite wrongly, that when you learned he had saved you from Quirrell's curse on your broom, that you would have seen this truth for yourself. I see now that I was wrong to presume such."

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, this is not meant to be a punishment, but you must remain here at Hogwarts until your magic stabilises and replenishes itself. This is imperative. If you should perform an act of stress-induced magic outside of this school, you might never fully recover it. Do you understand?"

Harry stared down at his lap, his hands clenched tightly into fists. "Yes, sir."

"If something outside were to tap into your remaining magic, the consequences could be dire, indeed," Albus warned. "You endanger not only yourself but other magical families that had ties to the Black family, such as your friends, the Weasleys."

"May I go now, sir?" Harry bit out, his jaw stubbornly set.

Albus sighed. "You may."

Harry stood and walked stiffly out of the Headmaster's Office.

Dumbledore rubbed the bridge of his nose and walked into his bedchamber, tripped over a large stack of pillows, and landed face-first on his bed, his hands flailing wildly as his previously abused lamp went flying off into the corner along with the box that might have once contained a cursed ring Horcrux, had not one hungry gargoyle pup eaten it by accident but an hour ago.

Phineas Nigellus' painted mouth curved into an impressive sneer as he disappeared into the sea of fellow portrait inhabitants.

"Idiot," he sniffed.

"Hey, you!" a male voice called out. "Tsssst!"

Hermione and Severus bumped heads trying to figure out where the voice came from.

Hermione rubbed her head with one paw as Severus did the same.

They both looked up to see a figure moving about in one of the many portraits adorning the walls. "Follow me."

Hermione and Severus exchanged puzzled glances, but their ever-curious noses got the better of them. They obediently trotted off after the painted figure, down the hall, up staircases, and down even more halls until they reached a gaudy tapestry of trolls being taught to dance ballet. .

"These idiots may be walking about with blinders on, but no Black, painted or otherwise, wouldn't recognise you two—" the black-clad figure said, crossing his arms across his chest. "Magic begets magic— and the magic of my line is just as pure as it was in my time and it flows within you both. That makes you heirs to the true line of Black. Before the corruption— the inbreeding, the eventual insanity. Back when I was living, it was about magic, not blood. I have no idea which idiot started the entire blood foolishness, but the true line of Black has always been where its magic sets. That means you two."

Hermione's and Severus' expressions were identically puzzled, heads cocked sideways like Nipper, the RCA dog, listening to his master's voice.

"Now, there is something special I hid away in a room you can only find when you think very hard to find it. There hasn't been a worthy one to find it in— Merlin only knows how long. But it's time now."

"Now, get your paws up here and don't claw the canvas."

The two pups scrambled to obey, oddly compelled to obey the elder wizard. They placed their small paws on the canvas.

"I, Phineas Nigellus Black, the last mentally and magically competent heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, do hereby acknowledge you— Hermione and Severus Black— as the last of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Thus is in the magic— so it is in blood. Toujours Pur. To you, I bequeath the Legacy. To you, I bestow purity. To you, I do bequeath the future in hopes that the House of Black remains eternal. Bound in Life. Bound in Magick. May your bond remain as deep as the roots of the Earth, for as Magick has chosen, so Magick will sustain, for this is the true heart of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

Kzzzzzt!

Yip-squeak!

The two pups found themselves suspended by delicate wisps of deceptively transparent magic. It wrapped around them both and then poured into them, causing their essence to grow brighter and brighter and then explode outward.

Squeak!

They landed back on all fours, glowing bands of magic wrapped around their left ankles like bangles.

"Now kindly go in that door over there and nosh on all the gems you can find," Nigellus ordered, his face looking gruff once more.

The two pups hopped up on the portrait and gave it a quick lick before dashes into the open door—

And it promptly closed behind them.

Phineas sniffed, eyeing the gargoyle slobber on the portrait canvas. "Call me a pureblood bigot and the worst headmaster of Hogwarts, will you? Hmph. Well, at least I know Magick's Will. I may never be loved, but I do know my magic."

He retreated from the frame, disappearing from sight.

Deep within the Room of Forgotten Things, one pesky bejewelled diadem disappeared down a hungry Severus Black's gullet as the two pups made good on their orders to "devour all the gems" and promptly curled up together in a for a well-deserved snooze right in the middle of a long-lost oak four-poster bed carved to look like the embrace of a mighty dragon.

The glowing band and bond of powerful old magic shimmered on their bodies as they snuggled tightly together.

They slept on, utterly oblivious, as their young bodies did a little special upgrading of their own. Wings jerked and twisted, growing much larger as their teeth and claws lengthened, jaws jerked and elongated. Horns grew longer with each breath, and protective spikes erupted over their once smooth backs. Their tails elongated, spiralling around each other like a corkscrew of unquestionable solidarity.

Deep within Gringotts, the plaque over the ancient Black vault shimmered and proceeded to rewrite itself to reflect:

Property of Lord and Lady Severus and Hermione Black

Toujours Pur

A/N: And so begins the story of the mischievous gargoyle pups! Hope you enjoyed it!