The two half-human felines were curled together on the bench in their compartment of the Hogwarts Express as it made its way back to King's Cross Station. The Leaving Feast had been a huge relief, as those who'd been petrified were fully restored with no other side effects than a temporary stiffness. Hermione had received good news from her parents: They'd agreed to her inviting Harry to their home for the holidays, although they had planned on going to France. Of course, with Hermione 'kittified', that course of action was on the back burner. Chances were looking very slim, depending greatly on whether Fred, George and Ron could get the collars repaired in time.
They weren't alone in the compartment, as Ron and Neville had opted to keep them company. Susan Bones and her best friend, another Hufflepuff that the friends vaguely recognised from the Sorting in first year as Hannah Abbot, had dropped by and were chatting with Neville about Herbology homework. Across from the kitty couple nearest the door was the last member of the little group: the newly transformed Ginny Weasley.
It had taken a few days for some of her new abilities to manifest, but the one that had been obvious from the first was the change in her voice. It now possessed a musical quality, almost primally so, that cheered most of those she spoke to. Draco Malfoy and his ilk did not find it so pleasant, complaining loudly that her voice hurt their ears. She was still somewhat fragile, emotionally. Soul deep trauma wasn't easy to overcome, even with mythical assistance.
The door slammed open as the Malfoy scion and his two bodyguards entered. Harry raised his head from Hermione's lap at the disturbance, as the blonde menace glared around the room.
"Three blood-traitors, a half-blood and three things that shouldn't exist," Draco sneered. "At least we won't have to put up with those things next year. There's no way my father's going to let animals be equal to wizards of pure-blood status. I told him I didn't think you could get lower than a mudblood, but the three of you... abominations, managed it."
"Shut up, Malfoy," Ginny said, delighting in the way the blonde boy winced as she did. "Your daddy has a few problems of his own, doesn't he?"
Amelia Bones, Susan's aunt and the head of the DMLE, had looked very carefully at the dates on the documents to replace Dumbledore, and take custody of Harry and Hermione. Even with emergency-based rush orders, he'd had the papers ready way too quickly. So the long political rigmarole had to have been started well before the first attack. When she'd presented him with the ruined diary, the senior Malfoy had gone white, throwing it over his shoulder, where his House-elf caught it... and one of Harry's socks, missing since the Chamber incident, fell out into the diminutive being's hand.
As Lucius had turned, drawing his wand from its hiding place in his cane, Harry had loudly exclaimed "So that'swhere that one was!" at the same time as Dobby's "Master has given me a sock! Dobby is free!" As he levelled the wand at the emerald-eyed feline, Amelia Bones had reacted by breaking his jaw a second time, and arresting him on charges of endangerment and conspiracy, with the option for several counts of attempted murder if he made a fuss.
Draco did not take the reminder well. "He'll have those fictions overturned in no time, freak."
The Malfoy scion's harsh words had two effects. First, Ginny's emotional state was already fragile from the lingering traces of the possession, so she began to cry. Hermione leaped across the compartment to comfort her, and following Madam Pomfrey's instructions, also collected some of Ginny's tears in a vial, to test for curative properties.
The second effect stemmed solely from the harsh and critical way Draco had used the word 'freak'. It reminded Harry strongly of his time with the Dursleys, and his reaction was a little extreme. He stood, his fur fluffed out and crackling with some kind of magical discharge. He had no idea how to accomplish what he wanted, at least not magically. As upset as he was, seeing nothing but red, the catboy simply pushed at reality with his magic, completely forgetting to use his wand, and demanding that the arcane energies he'd gathered make it so.
There was an instant of utter blackness in the compartment, accompanied by the heat, humidity and smells of the deepest jungles, and a mighty roar, like a hunting lion, but deeper, more dangerous.
As the blackness faded, everyone in the compartment wondered what had just happened. Although Harry hadn't moved from where he stood, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were cowering against the far wall of the corridor, trembling in their shredded and tattered robes, with a cold sweat covering them, and drenching their clothes, or rather, what was left of them. The three bullies didn't even have a scratch on them. Not even Harry knew what had happened. Leaving them to recover on their own, he closed the compartment door.
Platform 9¾ was as crowded as ever, and it took more than a few minutes to gather up their luggage. After promising to owl each other often, they parted ways, with Ron and Ginny following the twins and their mother to the Floo system, and Susan and Hannah meeting up with Madam Bones on the platform. Neville's grandmother was waiting for him, and that left the kitty couple, under their glamour charms, of course, heading in the direction of the barrier that lead out to the muggle side of the station.
Beyond the barrier, across the even more densely packed muggle station, Hermione could see her parents. The Grangers were casually dressed and waiting patiently. The feline couple made their way cautiously across to them, being very careful not to let their tails get caught on or in anything. Once there, Hermione was hugged fiercely, purring happily as her family welcomed her. Oddly, for once Harry didn't feel alone at the sight of some-one else's family, the hugs and love that he saw. He knew his mate was his new family, that hers was also his, and he'd never felt happier about something over which he had no control.
It was as they emerged from the station, and began putting the kitty couple's things in the back of the Grangers' station wagon that it happened.
"You! Boy!" The unpleasantness of Vernon Dursley's voice at high volume was something that Harry had been hoping to avoid. Harry flinched as the man came towards him, in what used to be an intimidating rush, but as his old habits fought his new instincts, he could see his uncle's 'rush' was more of a high-speed waddle. To the new Harry, Vernon Dursley was as intimidating as a duck.
As the overweight, no, fat man lumbered towards the emerald-eyed feline, Hermione caught Harry's flinch, obviously an ingrained behaviour, and began to see red. "How dare that, that, walrus accost my mate," she fumed, silently, as her claws emerged from her fingertips. Not that anyone could see them, of course.
Vernon ignored the bushy-haired girl who stepped closer to Harry, too intent on his nephew. "No nonsense from you, boy," he growled, "you're going back to your room, and none of... that stuff until you go back, unless they've finally kicked you out. Oh, yes you'll work for your keep."
Harry stood straighter. "But Uncle Vernon, I sent a message to you, saying I'd be spending this summer with Mr and Mrs Granger, here, and that you wouldn't need to 'take care' of me anymore."
"As if they'd want to have you," Vernon muttered.
"Actually," Michael Granger said, in a deceptively calm voice, "we're quite happy to have him around. He's a close friend of our girl and..." Alas, he got no further before Petunia's loud sniff cut him off, as she pointedly looked away from the family behind Harry.
"My condolences, sir." Vernon's response wiped the expression from Michael's face. "It's unfortunate that your child is so lacking in judgement that she's friendswith the boy. We'll just get him home and out of your hair."
Harry could smell the anger boiling out of his uncle, an overlay to a smell of rancid bacon, but there was another scent in there, almost sandwiched between the two... It took him a few minutes to understand what he was smelling: fear. Vernon was afraid of something. What? And why was he so insistent on Harry going back to Privet Drive? The catboy was certain he'd sent an owl with the message, and one signed by the headmaster, too. So why was his uncle so desperate to keep his despised nephew around?
A thought struck him. If his parents had made arrangements for his schooling eleven years before the actual schooling, then it was almost certain that they had made similar arrangements to provide for his upkeep until then. Any parent who thought that far ahead would have. Not that Harry had seen anything that suggested...
"Oh, heck," he realised, in a burst of intuition. "No wonder a low-end bureaucrat in a drill company could afford all those presents for Dudley. He was getting paid to look after me, pocketing it, and calling me a burden on their finances!"
While these thoughts flew through her mate's mind, Hermione was acting. After Mr Dursley's thinly-veiled insult, she lashed out at him, barely remembering to make it a solid slap, rather than gouging for one of the walrus' eyes, as her inner cat called for. She forgot that her claws were out, however, leaving four parallel trails slashed into his cheek across a bright red handprint.
Vernon stood there in shock, blinking for a few seconds before, with a sound not unlike an enraged water-buffalo, reaching for the chit who'd dared to hit him. As his hands closed in on the girl, Michael Granger's fist hit him across the ear, performing a feat Harry would have sworn was impossible if he wasn't seeing it before him now: lifting Vernon Dursley from his feet with neither magic nor a forklift. As Petunia started squalling in fear and anger, Dudley planted all the blame on the 'freak', knowing beyond a doubt, thanks to his father's indoctrination, that everything was Harry's fault, and hurting him for it was a good thing to do. So the youngest Dursley demonstrated his vaulting intellect by doing the same thing as his father, with a different target: Harry.
The green-eyed boy had seen the exact move Michael had pulled off to drive Vernon to the ground. Not having as much skill, he couldn't manage the same finesse, but his feline muscles made up for it, a little. On top of that, his opponent was lighter, not by much, but still.
Dudley crashed down on top of his father, and Harry spoke in a low cold voice that growled at them. "That was stupid, Vernon. I refuse to call you Uncle. You tried to hurt Hermione. If her dad hadn't decked you, she would have. Then 'Duddy-kins' here proves the old saw about stupidity: that you're doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results." Harry turned away, as two constables arrived. The inner cat wouldn't leave it at that, and scraped his foot towards the Dursleys, as though covering scat in a litter tray.
"I need some help," he thought, as he climbed into the back seat next to Hermione, who stroked his back until he purred.