Chapter 58: Wandless Transformation!

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"You should ask Professor McGonagall about it, Hermione," I say. "Maybe she'll help you guys along. I'm sure Sirius will as well."

"Why do you keep saying 'you guys?'" she asks. "Aren't you going to do it, too?"

I shake my head. "I could try, but somehow I don't think it will work for me."

She frowns at me. "Why not?"

"You know how I can't seem to use a wand. I don't think I'm a normal wizard." Understatement of the fictional century.

"William, the animagus transformation is wandless, so maybe you'll be able to do it quicker than us!"

I smile gratefully, even though I don't hold out much hope at all. "Well either way I'll be there along with you guys."

A loud thunk startles me.

"Nice cloak, Potter," Crouch/Moody grumbles as he stands in front of our table. Hagrid looms large behind him, but he's outside the muffliato so we can't hear him. "And that's a useful privacy charm, Granger, one of yours?"

"Actually, that would be Mr. Lerner's," Hermione says with a smile.

I struggle not to shudder as the magical eye settles on me.

Harry saves me by jumping in then. "Can your eye...I mean, can you—?"

"Yeah, it can see through Invisibility Cloaks," Moody/Crouch says. Then he reaches above his head and holds his hand flat, tilted at an angle. "And I can see the bubble created by charms like this one, too, though I can't hear anything from the outside."

Hagrid then bends down so most of his massive head is under Moody's hand. He whispers something quietly, which, for Hagrid, is to say that Hermione and I heard every word. "Harry, meet me tonight at midnight at my cabin. Wear that cloak." Then he stands and appears to say something else before he and Crouch/Moody walk away.

"Well that was discreet," I joke, once the guy that gives me the creeps has entirely left the building.

"I don't know if you should go, Harry," Hermione says, biting her bottom lip, "it might make you late for Sirius."

I disagree. "I think you can make it, Harry. But I'll tell you what, I'll pop down there at one and keep him company a bit if you're not back. I'd like to talk to Sirius myself."

Hermione frowns at me. "I don't think that's a good idea, William. Harry might have mentioned your name to Sirius, but he doesn't know what you look like."

"He knows your face, though," I point out, "so why don't you come down, too?"

Hermione bites her lip, looking back and forth between me and where Harry's sitting. "Okay."

I clap my hands together, startling her. "Excellent! See, Harry? Now you have to hurry back to chaperone our late night rendezvous. You never know what's going to happen with those scoundrels Hermione hangs out with. Best have your Stinging Hex handy."

She raises an eyebrow at me. "I'll have my own Stinging Hexes handy, William, and they won't be aimed at your hands."

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"Hey, Hermione," I greet her quietly as she makes her way to the fire.

She yawns, "Hello, William...sorry," she says when her yawn goes contagious.

"S'alright, this is too late for me."

"Me, too."

We sit in silence for a few moments, staring at the fire. It's hypnotic. "Even though I'm supposed to be on the lookout for other students, I'm going to have to talk to you to stay awake."

Her head jerks up when I start speaking, as if she had dozed off as well. "Me, too."

"Um," I say, searching for a topic. "Maybe you should get those Stinging Hexes out after all."

She chuckles. "That would work, but I hope talking to me is a more enjoyable way to stay awake."

"It is," I say. Hermione seems to have gone to sleep and set some kind of alarm, because her hair looks especially fuzzy and tangled, as if she'd tossed and turned for the past few hours. It makes me smile, and she sees it.

"Don't say a word about my hair."

My smile widens. "I think it's cute."

Her face drops into a mock glare. "I said not a word, and don't start with that again."

My smile fades and I look toward the fire. "I know I joke about being inappropriate when Harry's not around, but you know I would never hurt you like that, don't you?" Damn late night, always makes me mushy.

I can feel her looking at me, but I'm too embarrassed by my sentimental admission to look back. "I know," she says after a moment.

"I have to admit I'm feeling a bit on the mushy side tonight, but if you tell me to stop teasing you about something, I will."

"I could really take advantage of such promises, you know." Her voice holds a note of surprise, and I get the feeling she's raising an eyebrow at me.

"You could. I just...the thought of me hurting you in any way just makes me sick to my stomach right now."

"So you hurting me will become acceptable once you're well-rested?" She asks, amusement plain in her voice. I turn to grimace at that, upon which her face softens into a smile. 

"So is this mushy, sweet William the real you, or is it the mysterious prankster we all know and love?"

Her asking about the real me hits me in a way I don't expect. My grimace fades and I close my eyes and let my head fall into my hands. I feel some tears coming but I can do nothing to stop them.

"William, are you okay?"

I hate when people ask me that when I'm not okay. It's like a trigger phrase for all my emotions to spill out. "No. I'm not."

"Please, tell me what's wrong," she pleads, "I want to help you."

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