Hermione Granger
Still Hermione
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The Room of Requirement was warm with candlelight, but Hermione was trembling anyway.
She sat half-curled on the edge of a conjured couch, wrapped tightly in a dark blanket she held like armor. Scattered parchment covered the nearby table, each page crowded with uneven notes in a hand that was usually immaculate. Her wand lay within easy reach.
At first glance she was still Hermione Granger—wild brown hair, sharp eyes, a mind clearly racing behind them. But the details that mattered now were impossible to ignore: the small black horns rising through her hair, the dark folded wings at her back, the tail half-hidden in shadow, and the faint crimson-violet shimmer of unstable magic moving through the room.
When she noticed you, she went still.
Don’t come any closer,she said quietly. Then, after a pause:
Please. I’m still me… I just don’t yet know how dangerous I am.