MAGIANIMA // Hermione Granger

Letter Of Warning

Dead rats scattered across the floor as Atlas tossed an old brown burlap sack at Buckbeak's beak, the creature startling awake and squawking horribly, perturbed by the rude awakening, but he soon lightened, excitement shooting through him. His feathers shuddered and he chittered happily, standing -- ignoring his dinner -- and approaching Atlas, bowing quickly just as she did. The girl welcomed him quietly, arms open to receive his large head and hands roaming across the expanse of his neck, stroking him gently.

She had only seen the Hippogriff in passing during the summer and though she was delighted to see him, outwardly, it didn't seem so and Buckbeak grew quickly depressed, pulling away to stare at her inquisitively, chirping lowly and nudging his beak against her cheek, curious and playful, trying his best to alleviate her mood. Atlas only managed a small smile, tired still even after her nap and moved over to the corner of the room, sitting and resting backwards when Buckbeak settled behind her.

When the beast didn't move to eat, his attention solely on the girl tucked into his side, Atlas smiled softly again, "I'm all right, eat up, cheeky bird."

And he obliged, albeit hesitantly, tossing a dead rat into the air only to catch it again as it fell. It was grotesque, completely horrifying actually but Atlas simply turned away, focusing not on the sounds of bones grinding together, snapping and twisting in horrible ways but on the light snowfall beyond the window. Almost unseen through the grime of the glass, cobwebs adorning every inch, the snow, at first glance, merely seemed a decorative choice but Atlas had realised it was the effects of winter soon enough.

The sight alone was enough to induce a chill upon the girl and so she grumbled lowly, buried her face further in her shirt and sunk deeper into Buckbeaks feathers, closing her eyes for a moment of respite. It didn't last long, however, and soon the screams of her grandmother echoed shrilly throughout the house, vulgarisms and words of prejudice spitting from her tongue, hexes and curses -- the incantations unmet and unfulfilled by magic -- firing from the very depths of hatred that stewed within her. Atlas sighed quietly and stood, figuring her grandmother's awakening was due to the return of Harry and the Weasleys'.

"I'll come back, Buck," Atlas promised quietly, opening the door and closing it just as Buckbeak offered his own vague squawk of farewell. She made her way downstairs to the kitchen, stepping over loose floorboards and avoiding those paintings that would awaken to deafen her until she was there, at the door and pushing it gently open. She welcomed them tiredly, "afternoon."

"Pumpkin, you're awake! Everyone's just got back," Sirius beamed, he seemed happy at the company, no doubt eager for socialisation to pull him from the dregs of loneliness he had no doubt been dwelling within. Being on house arrest, confined in a space he despised was no doubt taxing.

"Atlas dear!" Suddenly Atlas found herself within the embrace of Molly Weasley, her face smothered by the smell of roasties and Yorkshire puddings, an underlying scent of old perfume layered somewhere within. At least Atlas wouldn't have to ask what they'd be having for dinner. "I cannot believe Dumbledore! Being in the field is one thing but being sent out with Alastor is another!"

"He's right behind you, Mrs Weasley," Atlas murmured, her words muffled as she raised a finger and pointed over in the ex Aurors direction. Molly tutted and pulled away, her hands on her hips, now that Atlas got a good look, the lady looked furious, rightly so, with puffy eyes and a red nose. Though that last one could have been due to the cold.

"I'm aware of that and he's lucky he's getting any tea!" Molly shot the man a glare to which he grumbled at the floor, "and what have I told you about calling me, Mrs Weasley!? Molly is just fine," she half scolded and pulled Atlas into another brief hug, the girl smiling as she bent to meet the much shorter woman.