Abyss

Chapter 2

"Why don't you keep it, Miss Granger?" said Professor Dumbledore mildly. "You seem to be missing your other one, and if this one favors you..."

"But look at it, Professor," Hermione said, frantic. She undid her cloak; it had grown windy during the train ride. As was customary, bad weather was brewing. When she set the cloak on the nearest chair, Dumbledore gave a quick intake of breath. He had not expected a snake quite so large or quite as known for being dangerous. Dumbledore stood and approached it cautiously.

"How have you managed to tame it?" he asked. The snake had begun to move, lifting its head from her shoulder and slithering forward in midair toward the Headmaster.

"Snake-charming spell. It can't hurt me."

"Really," Dumbledore muttered, adjusting his glasses. He reached out with an expert hand and caught the head. The snake's ribs expanded again, and it continued sliding from Hermione to further prepare itself, but Hermione wrapped her hand around his middle, and with her other hand, she began to stroke the scales in a soothing manner. Under her fingers to which he was spellbound, the snake relaxed and some of the tension left its body, as much as he did not want to let it. He did not withdraw the hood.

Dumbledore stared at the snake's face, at the snake's eyes. The head was trembling in anger under Dumbledore's staying hand.

"Interesting," he said under his breath. Then, straightening, "It seems to take to you well, and it isn't at all pleased with me. And obviously, it isn't pleased with Mr. Malfoy either. Is Crookshanks at home?"

"Yes," Hermione answered, embarrassed, "he's grown quite enamored of my mum's affections."

Dumbledore checked and released the cobra, which wrapped sullenly around Hermione's neck again.

"And this familiar seems quite enamored of you. I don't dare let a familiar like this loose in the Forbidden Forest: centaurs seem to be able to tell good ones. He would be trampled before the week's end. There is no one else I would trust to give better care to the snake than you. Hagrid isn't quite as adept at the smaller, more--ah, excuse me--delicate creatures. It is a bit unorthodox--we've maybe had two snakes as familiars since Tom Riddle--but I will permit you to keep the familiar as your own."

"But..." Hermione began.

Dumbledore raised a hand to silence her. "Take an opportunity when it knocks, Hermione. Mr. Fitzgerald was correct when he said the only other option was to turn it in to the authorities in whose hands it will die. Keep it, Hermione." He put a hand on her shoulder and led her to the door. "It can't hurt, and you might have much more authority with him to emphasize your threats as Head Girl." His eyes twinkled merrily. "You look more forbidding with a large cobra around your neck. We might make it a tradition. Good night, Hermione." He set her on her way down the hall and went back into his office.

At Dumbledore's departure, the cobra's head slithered forward to look at Hermione.

"Well," she said wearily, "it seems we're stuck with each other. Mind being the only snake ever allowed in Gryffindor Tower?" No response. Hermione pulled gently at the body wrapped around her.

"I know you need warmth, but it's still warm on the stone and you're a bit heavy..." The snake, sensing her motivation, slipped in loose folds from her, falling to the ground. He raised himself to his full five-foot height, unhooded, and waited.

"If you get cold, you can come back on. Follow me."

She could not deny that strolling down the corridors with a cobra upright almost as tall as she and still longer than ten feet on the ground was... interesting. Students skirted to the side, even young Slytherins. As they went, the snake snapped playfully at some of the more twitchy students.

"Behave," she hissed under her breath, and the snake glared at her, but did not menace anyone further.

"Checkmate," she said to the Fat Lady. While the portrait opened, the Fat Lady did a double-take on Hermione's companion.

"Now what do you think you're...?"

"Thank you," Hermione interrupted, briskly stepping through the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.

"Hermione-e-e-e," Ron began, jumping toward her, then falling back. "What are you doing with that h-h-here?"

"Dumbledore told me keep it because, well..."

"Do you actually like it?" Harry asked from the safety of the couches.

"Not really, but I don't want to give it to the Aurors. He can't help he was born a serpent instead of a cat or an owl."

Ron snorted. "So, going for animal rights now, Hermione?"

"No," Hermione insisted. "It's just... I don't know. He's a magnificent animal; he does not deserve to die, by any means."

Harry shook his head. "Your funeral. You do realize it's poisonous?"

"Snake-charming spell, Harry, it can't hurt me."

"No, but it can hurt everyone else."

"Then I'll have to prevent it from doing so," said Hermione matter-of-factly.

"Are you crazy, Hermione?" she heard from more than one person as she pushed through the first-day throng. The snake felt the hostility because it hooded halfway and growled softly, glaring sullenly at the gaping Gryffindors. Both human and familiar gave a great sigh of relief when the door to the Head Girl's private room closed behind them.

"I get the gnawing felling you're going to be more trouble than you're worth," Hermione muttered, stroking the head gently until the hood had receded and the snake had drifted to the ground. "You really are beautiful, you know. Your eyes are creepy, but you're still beautiful."

She dug into her pockets for the letter that Mr. Fitzgerald had given her on care for the creature.

"Hm, says you're diurnal. I wouldn't have expected it. In that case, maybe I should prepare your quarters."

Hermione crossed to the foot of her bed where her trunk and the large tank Mr. Fitzgerald had sent through expensive Floo Mail. It was almost as big as the bed itself. Hermione tsked, then used a Hover Charm to safely transport the glass tank to the side of the room farthest from the window to prevent the temper of the elements from affecting the warmer environment. The tank was low and left room for only minimal maneuverability. It was meant for rest, not living. Hermione sighed.

"That good for you, milord?" Hermione asked.

Using Hermione as a foundation, the snake slithered into the warmed tank with a quiver of contentment. He looked up at her expectantly once inside.

"Oh," Hermione cried. With a flick of her wand, she transformed a piece of coal into a group of lizards. She magically herded them into the tank, and the snake took his meal of one of them.

Through the glass, Hermione watched the attack and sighed. "That ought to last you. I'll probably need some water and food for the lizards as well.

After finishing the cobra's maintenance, Hermione and the snake stared at each other. The snake had a lump in his previously smooth, sleek body that disconcerted Hermione. One final wave and the top latched to the tank.

"I wonder..." Hermione mused. "What am I going to do with you?"

The snake did not answer her, but curled delicately under a small shrub.

"And a name," Hermione continued to herself as she stood and went to her trunk, retrieving her school supplies and night things. She went to the bathroom and took a soak. It was smaller than the prefects' bath, but this one had been constructed with only one occupant in mind, and for one person, the bath was quite spacious. She allowed the stress to wash away with the complimentary fragrant soaps available. She would leave washing her hair until morning. After the bath, Hermione got ready for bed as though nothing was different. But there was that odd shift of air currents that seemed to make the snake's presence felt.

"This might take some getting used to," she muttered under her breath as she settled down at the table next to the window. Already the sky had yielded a few drops of rain and thunder rumbled menacingly in the distance. It was appropriate for her activities. She wanted to read up on the Nightmare Curse and its more effective and longer-lasting corresponding potion. Hermione rarely ever remembered her dreams, so that prospect of reading first-hand accounts on both sides of the wand was intriguing. Taking an apprehensive look around her, and seeing nothing but the snake, she began her study.

... the results of the incantation produce a single nightmare in the same night. The dream will consist of the people, places, and objects in your life that you fear the most. It is vivid, lucid, and linear, and the victim is forced to endure the dream until its established plot has concluded, generally in a dream-death. There have been cases where the dream was so saturated with fear, the victim died in his sleep, woke up with convulsions, covered in a dehydrating cold sweat, heart rate dangerously increased, or in shock.

The incantation is eclipsed by the Nightmare Potion, which attacks the body as well as the mind so that the dreams do not only have a familiar time velocity, but also feels as though they are not dreams at all. The entire sensory area of the brain is employed and manipulated. The brain activity resembles that of a person asleep, nothing more.

Once the victim awakens, sometimes weeks, months, or even years later, they are able to remember every scene with uncanny detail. Often under the potion, the subject comes back to reality severely, but curably, insane. Instances of this reaction usually are paranoia, schizophrenia, melancholia, and hypochondria...

Hermione was not sure when she fell asleep, but some time through the reading of the primary sources with drowsy fascination, her head slumped down onto the yellowed pages and her lids fluttered and shut.

The snake, however, continued to watch her, eyes slitted and tongue flitting through his mouth, tasting the air. When it was sure the girl was asleep, it rose to the top of the tank and maneuvered its body so that the latch to the lid opened. Undulating its powerful muscles, the top lifted, and the snake slid through the crack. It suppressed a wince at the cooler air. Its tail caught, but it managed to pull it out. The top made a noise as it fell back into place; the snake heard the sharp thump and turned sharply to the girl. She did not even move.

A glint of light lit its maroon eyes, and it raised itself to its full height. It stood there as if waiting. If someone were watching it, its appearance would seem to be widening, lengthening. After a bit, it almost seemed to sprout arms and its tail seemed to split into legs. But it was only illusion because now there was a man, only a man, no sign of a cobra anywhere.

From the sleeve of his robes, he retrieved his wand. His eyes, an odd color for a snake, had not changed, and they looked even more out of place on a man. The man himself was strange to the point of freakishness. His skin was almost purely white, and it clung to the bones of his face. Along his limbs, it set the elegant, wiry strength of muscle and bone into sharp relief. His robes, made for a larger frame in accordance with his height, draped over him, accentuating his thinness. His hand, like an albino spider, grasped his wand with a barely harnessed fury.

First, as he had instructed, Lucius had given him to his son, who treated everything as thought it could easily be replaced. He had obviously overestimated Draco's ability of inductive reasoning, for Draco had interpreted the action as being given a pet, and Lucius had not dissuaded him from the idea. His almost lipless mouth curled slightly. However, the Malfoys were useful; their desire for the annihilation of the empire was to be praised. That did not mean they were competent enough to handle such important non-torture-related responsibilities, and Lord Voldemort would take that to heart next time, after severely punishing both father and son for their blunder.

Because of their mistake, Voldemort had found himself unfed, cold, and uncomfortable in a basket inadequate for a snake his size. Draco had shaken him, bumped him both accidentally and deliberately into walls and people, unaware he was making a certain Dark Lord very, very angry. Then, the Malfoy boy had to be so inane as to flaunt his possession of a forbidden familiar in front of an obviously capable but vengeful Mudblood Head Girl, thus losing him within a week. Then the girl, careful, but not careful enough in her hurry, had taken him to a veritable pet shop where he had been held against his will by another Mudblood who knew precisely how to handle him. Then--insult upon injury--the great Lord Voldemort had been bested by a snake-charming spell!

The humiliation, though nearly more than he could bear, was easily remedied. He would kill the girl, then steal into Slytherin and... reprimand the Malfoy brat. Not to kill him, no. Death would be too swift.

He raised his wand toward Hermione and said clearly, in an uncracked tenor, "Avada K--"

Lord Voldemort's face contorted as the words caught in his throat. He tried again. "Av--"

Voldemort blinked. He attempted to open his mouth again, but he was anticipated and his lips refused to move.

Ever since he had first learned the Killing Curse, he had never hesitated at its use. Now, when he was least likely to find a reason to spare the child, he could not even say the incantation.

Maybe it had been too long. Maybe he had better try another spell.

"Sen-sen-sen--" he stuttered. His wand arm fell forcefully to his side in frustration. Never ever had a spell failed him before.

He continued his morbid experiment, trying to cast every hex, jinx, or curse he knew. None of them worked. Voldemort threw the wand to the floor where it clattered, wood against wood.

Voldemort froze as Hermione stirred, her arm knocking a closed bottle of ink off the desk. Voldemort, just reacting, knelt to the floor and caught it. Then, in a sudden revelation, Voldemort picked up his wand and cast a Hovering Charm on the ink bottle. It floated and returned back to the desk.

His eyes widened. It appeared that the snake-charming spell had done more than tame him--how could he forget that ridiculous docility--but also kept him from hurting her.

"Who would have thought?" Voldemort said softly, walking to the girl. His fingers closed gently around the back of her neck. He found he could not apply painful pressure, but his thumb rested in the hollow of her throat where her blood pulsed temptingly. "So fragile," he whispered. "Dare you bare your neck to me?" Her face looked distantly familiar.

Harry Potter, he thought grimly, she's a friend of Harry Potter. I don't doubt that I've seen them together over these last two years. Well, little friend of Potter's, it seems you have complete control over me. Just you wait, though. When I find a way to remove this spell, you'll be the first I come after.

His hand brushed her cheek in a mockery of a caress. Then he returned his wand to his sleeve where it touched the skin of his inner wrist, and he changed back into his newly acquired Animagus form. He supposed dimly that no one would be at all surprised at the shape he assumed, and the predictability bothered him. A little. He did enjoy the animal.

He gave one last glare full of contempt in the general direction of the Slytherin common room, and he slithered to the bed. He was not properly cold, but he was cool, and the warmth of the blankets might as well be put to some purpose.

~888~

When Hermione woke up the next morning, she was sore with an ache in her neck and ink on her face from lying on the book. She stretched against the kinks. Then she started when she realized the cobra was staring straight at her from atop a pile of her books.

"Well, what do you want? Everything you need is in the tank. Hey, how'd you get out anyway?"

The snake stuck his tongue at her. Hermione stuck hers back at him.

"I still don't know what to call you," Hermione said, reaching out and stroking his neck. "Think you could take it if Harry talked to you?"

The snake withdrew sharply.

"I can't talk to you, and maybe Harry can tell me something about you. For instance, why and how you left your tank. If you don't want to go in, you don't have to. I can make a door." Hermione peered down at her book, lifted her eyes to the snake, whose head had not moved, and shut it in a bout of paranoia. The snake seemed to grin at her.

Hermione went into her private lavatory and got her hair wet, then washed and styled. When her hair was arranged as adequately as possible, she selected one of her plainer satin robes to wear for the day. When she came out after washing her face, the snake was waiting from a shelf and draped down onto her shoulder, settling comfortably round her neck, waist, and legs. Hermione, quite against walking about with a king cobra ostentatiously wrapped around her body after confiscating it from Draco, pulled at its thick length to no avail. The snake refused to move and merely nestled closer for warmth. He butted against her chin before resting on her shoulder.

"I can't go out like this!" Hermione cried despairingly, but the snake sat still. She stamped her feet in frustration.

Hermione tried for several more minutes to remove him, but he remained obstinate, and Hermione eventually had to leave the room and get to breakfast late.

When she arrived at the Gryffindor table, Hermione knew the snake was going to cause her a distracting amount of attention, more than she was willing to handle.

"You know, 'Mione, you could be less obvious about it," Ron said through a mouthful of toast.

"Easy for you to say, Ron. You haven't been trying to get it off for the last ten minutes. Speaking of, Harry, can you tell it to get off and ask it whether it wants a door to the tank?" Hermione served herself a large plate of toast and covered it with jam.

"I've never seen those robes, Hermione," Harry said, looking pointedly at Ron. Ron's eyes focused right below the upper part of the snake body then opened a bit wider. He looked at Hermione.

"Neither have I," said Ron, slightly hoarse.

Hermione shook her head. "You two are such boys." But she could not help but be pleased. Hiding her slowly flushing face, she recovered by reminding Harry, "Harry, would you please...?"

Harry jumped up. "Oh--yeah." He hesitated before the snake, which had turned balefully his way, aware of conversations silencing around them. He had not spoken Parseltongue since second year and that had not exactly resulted in excitement and glory for him... rather the opposite. But since Hermione had requested it, Harry felt keener to oblige. Bending to the snake, he hissed softly, "You might let off Hermione a bit. You're not making her comfortable wrapped around her that way. She wants you to get off."

The snake did not stir, but hissed back, "I understand English speech vibrations, and I'd like a door."

Harry grinned and said, "Now get off her, I really don't think she's comfortable."

The snake began sliding up Hermione's body, the head raising over Harry's, the hood spread in a spectacular spectacle of aggression.

"I will not speak to you again. I go where I please. Stay!" the snake screamed again as Harry took a step closer and opened his mouth to speak. The snake's face was inches from Harry's, mouth open, revealing his half-inch long fangs.

"I don't think your little snake likes me still, Hermione," Harry said, backing up as the low hissing issuing from the snake's mouth became a growl. The snake lunged half-heartedly, then coiled back possessively around Hermione. "He says he wants the door, he can understand English vibrations, and he never wants to speak to me again, in a nutshell."

Hermione sighed. "I was afraid of that. If I was in a fouler mood, I might hex him off, but I'll let him stay today." She absentmindedly stroked the scales again. "Snape's going to have a fit, and McGonagall won't be too happy either."

"I can just see the look on Snape's face," Ron groaned. "He's not going to have a fit, he's going to have a field day."
"Maybe I can convince him to loosen his hold before then," Hermione said, shifting her stomach where the snake's body was vise-tight. The snake slid open enough for her to breathe more easily, but his hissing in her ear warned her not to press her luck.

McGonagall looked down at her as she paced the room during lecture, but the professor did not comment on the incongruous pair. It was clear, however, that if the snake disrupted or distracted the class too much, it would find itself employed as a limp accessory. Fortunately, the snake merely watched and, presumably, listened, occasionally attacking the end of Hermione's quill when he was bored.

Flitwick, too, paid little attention to the odd familiar. Flitwick was generally more laid back then any teacher and felt that if a student did not wish to learn, there was little point for him to press the issue, and he knew Hermione wanted to learn and would organize an environment in which she could. If the snake did not affect that environment, it could stay. He trusted her judgment.

She dreaded having to go into Snape's classroom, and Harry had to coax her in before she was late. Snape had not entered the classroom yet, and Draco and his cronies took full advantage of his absence.

"Enjoying the snake that doesn't belong to you?" Pansy sneered. "You confiscated it, then took it for yourself?"

"Sounds right dodgy to me," said one Slytherin near the back. "Unsportsmanlike."

"One," Hermione said softly, as though she had been preparing the speech all morning, "you didn't clear it with the Headmaster, so I was bound to confiscate it. Two, I brought it to the Magical Menagerie, but they could not take it because of Voldemort." Almost the entire room winced at the name. "If it wasn't for him, the snake would be properly cared for. Three, because the Menagerie could not take the snake, the manager suggested I ask Dumbledore, and under my time-constraints--due to the confiscation process--I had to bring the snake to school. Four, Dumbledore advised me to keep it for myself. If I had my way, I'd let it go to the Forbidden Forest or someplace where they would accept the snake and treat it humanely. Instead, the only other option I had was turning it in to the Law Enforcement Squad, who would probably confiscate it in an inhumane way because it's wizard-bred. So don't talk to me about sportsmanship when I merely follow the directions that act in the snake's best interest."

"A beautiful oration, Miss Granger," Snape said slickly from behind her, "you almost had me convinced. Ten points from Gryffindor for talking out of turn. Class started two minutes ago. And another ten points off for underhand theft that unfortunately I have no authority to further investigate." Snape looked thoroughly pleased that he had found a reason for taking points off Hermione. The occasion came by so rarely unless she was helping Neville with his potions.

The snake shifted so that it hovered out toward Snape, tongue tasting the air. If anything, it gave an appearance of amusement, swaying up and down like it was laughing.

"And keep in mind, Miss Granger, that I have several potions I'm interested in concocting that require ingredients your new familiar can provide." Then he swept to the front of the class and began a short lecture, which then followed into a quick potion with similar properties to the one discussed.

The Congealing Solution was dangerous in any situation, most particularly because the ingredients had to be put together at precise times almost immediately after the previous ingredient. Harry and Hermione had to work frantically to be as accurate as possible. Hermione was proud of him: Ever since he had leaned that an Auror needed near perfect marks in Potions, Harry had gritted his teeth and continued to sign up for Snape's class, much to the displeasure of both. And while their animosity remained, Snape did not criticize Harry's work too harshly. Both Harry and Hermione suspected Dumbledore had a hand in that. But Snape had grudgingly begun giving him fair grades, and with the added incentive, Harry's skills had drastically increased. His new fervor was evident in his work with Hermione. He was able to keep up with the pace. He even came up with the idea that they should alternate ingredients, which Pansy and Draco copied after watching them. The resulting potion was not perfect, but certainly close. Snape bottled the Solution without a word, but there was a tic near his eye.

The cobra, due to the sharp movements of Hermione's body, left her to hide under the table where the cool stone felt good against his scales with the fire from under the cauldron seeping down on him from above. Then he saw Malfoy's shifting foot. The mouth slowly opened and the fangs began to come forward. The snake surreptitiously left Hermione and headed to Draco's foot, where a glimpse of bare skin could be seen from the snake's angle.

It was difficult to say what happened next. Voldemort, as the man, would have considered it highly unlikely that he would act in such a way he endangered his own existence. Perhaps the Animagus briefly possessed the human. Perhaps the human briefly took solace in the creature's animal nature. Either way, the snake slipped up the pant leg slightly, without touching the skin, but then, in an action of passion at the remembrance of the basket through the animal's memory, the snake hooded, hissed, and reared back, alerting Draco to its presence. Hermione looked up and spotted the brown scales leading a path to Draco, and without thinking, she pulled out her wand and cried, "Impedimenta." The cobra froze, though the tail still wriggled angrily.

"I told you it did not like you. You'd be dead before now if you'd kept it. You should thank me," Hermione said irritably.

Snape looked horribly content. "Be that as it may, you ought to control your familiar. Deaths would not look good to the Ministry, especially with a Head Girl's familiar. Twenty points, Miss Granger. Next time, it's detention."

"And a trip to bed," Draco muttered.

"Class dismissed," Snape said, as though he had not heard, though he, too, knew the rumor.

"Well," Harry said mildly. "You can't say it was unexpected."

Immediately after, Hermione returned to her room, releasing the snake into the tank and locking it with a spell that make it impossible for him to get out then countered the Impediment Charm.

"Look," she said forcefully, glaring straight at him, "unless you want to remain in there for the rest of the year, I advise you to control your temper. They can put you to sleep for things like that. I agree that Draco deserves a bite out of his ankle. I'd prefer it out of his arse, but that would lead straight to death for you. I'd have to give you up to the Aurors, and at this paranoid time, it might lead to an inquiry with me and little sympathy for you. Harry said you understand English. I hope you understand me now. I've saved your life twice. I won't save you again. Your life is in your hands now. Think about it." Then she turned from it in finality. She left the room, leaving the snake trapped in a locked cage.

The minute she stepped into the common room, she nearly ran into Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey.

"Umph! Careful, Miss Granger. We were just coming to see you." McGonagall looked up the stairs to Hermione's room. "What is this I've heard of your snake trying to kill Mr. Malfoy? Professor Snape is raising demons about it. He wants it confiscated."

"Technically," said Hermione, "it already is, into my hands. I confiscated it from Malfoy, and at the time, it seemed the creature had been abused, neglected. It would probably attack me, too, if I had not tamed it with the snake-charming spell."

"Does it now extend to other people?" Madam Pomfrey asked disapprovingly.

"I don't think so. From the type of spell it is, I doubt anyone else can perform it on the snake without my removing mine."

"Convenient," McGonagall muttered darkly. "Where is this snake, Miss Granger?"

"Locked in his tank," Hermione answered, leading them upstairs.

"Good," McGonagall said. "In case the creature decides to kill anyone, we want an antidote. Before Poppy can make it, she needs the venom of the snake."

Hermione must have looked frightened, for Madam Pomfrey reassured her quickly. "The operation is painless, dear."

"No worries, I just... I'll need to be there to restrain him if he goes violent. He has a powerful body." Hermione opened the door to her room to catch the snake slithering quickly into his tank. Her Locking Charm had been countered.

"How...?" Hermione began then shook her head in bafflement. "I locked him in. With a spell."

"Snakes are formidable familiars, Miss Granger," McGonagall said softly. "You'll have to be careful with it. This one seems particularly able. Stubborn, too. Have you given it a name? The creature will not truly be yours until you name it. It's a special bond between a familiar and his witch." As Professor McGonagall spoke, she and Madam Pomfrey readied themselves to grab the snake.

Hermione got out her wand and watched the snake warily as the two women began to circle in. The cobra began to open its hood and swayed, sensing hostility.

"I haven't named it," Hermione said, "everything I can possibly think of either just doesn't match his temperament or it's too cute. And careful, he understands English."

"I'll try French next time," McGonagall said tartly, darting for the tail. She wrapped her hand around the body and held tight, but Madam Pomfrey missed the head, and the cobra whipped around to sink his teeth into McGonagall's arm.

Hermione, without even thinking about what she was saying, screamed, "Belthazar!"

The snake froze, and its head swung around, its eyes locked onto Hermione's.

"That's your name, isn't it?" Hermione whispered. "That's your name with me."

The snake's hood abruptly receded, and he raised himself up to his full height, not menacing at all.

"Belthazar," she said again, accustoming them both to the name. "They're not going to hurt you. They just want your venom so that if you bite someone, there is a remedy, and we might get off with an official warning. I hope it doesn't go that far, but precaution is wise in this case. Belthazar." Hermione knelt on the floor and the snake lowered itself so that they were eye to eye. The pervading emotion Hermione could see was one of complete surprise. "Let them do it. Let them perform the procedure, and I'll let you come with me to dinner rather than bind you to the tank."

Amusement flickered in the snake's eyes.

"Please?" Hermione said gently.

The snake looked at her for a long time, but Hermione did not feel the need to avoid blinking.

Finally, the snake... no, Belthazar, slithered toward Madam Pomfrey and bit the sponge-like object she held in her hand and began pulsing poison into it in convulsions that looked almost like swallowing. Madam Pomfrey was stunned. It took Belthazar a little time to extricate himself from the sponge, and when he did, he returned to Hermione, sliding up her body, once again with an almost touching possessiveness. He laid his head on her shoulder.

"Well, Miss Granger," said McGonagall, at a loss for words.