Immediately after getting back to the castle, it was discovered that Sirius Black had already made it inside of Hogwarts. In the name of safety, every student was forced to sleep in the Great Hall after getting things sorted in our rooms, with a roll call before bed, and permissions to the bathroom. I was luckily spared from such a farce, as it was the night of a full moon, Dumbledore had me inside the Chamber for my transformation. Before I went to sleep, I talked with Gaynor and got myself comfortable in her plentiful amounts of webs, covering almost every surface in the main chamber.

“Are you sure you’re eating enough?” I asked, the Basilisk still around the same size as when I saw it a month ago. Her pedipalps twitched before she crawled overtop of me, moving to my other side before wrapping her long legs around my cocooned self. “Yes! I’ve eaten much more than before! Still growing big!” She cheered, her vocabulary slowly getting better as she grew. I patted her head while Val slithered around her body. “You can just say the word, and you can come with us everywhere you know?” 

She somehow figured the meaning behind his words, and shook her head while getting more comfy beside me. “I like being in a nest. I feel cozy here. Just visit plenty.” I sighed, feeling a wave of sleepiness come over me. ‘Please don’t get into trouble.’ I begged myself as I drifted off to sleep. 

The next morning, I woke up to being in the same spot as before, Gaynor still wrapped around me with her many legs, her pedipalps shivering as she slept. She was getting much too big for it though, quickly growing to a little over my size. “Alright, time to get up…” I mumbled, slowly removing myself from her clutches, a skill I was getting a little too good at. I dressed up in my clothes, and felt the weight of the book in my pocket. I slowly took it out, and cracked it open, now finally having some time to read more.

It was a mistake, I quickly recoiled at the horrendous teachings he gave. It was teachings of the dark arts, with the first being a curse that only created pain in the target, mind splitting, agonizing, death embracing pain. He went on to regale me with how simple it was to have those beg for death in less than an hour. Flipping the pages, many of his spells were like that, only causing pain from what the spells inflicted on the person. One grew nerve endings out of the skin, another caused death in specific portions of the body like the eyes or ears, either letting it rot to slowly overtake the rest of the body, or letting those he tortured to live blind or deaf while fighting one another in ‘games’ he held to the death. Removing limbs to place back together in strange forms of living furniture and architecture, or even a specific potion in which the petrified person remained aware of everything, but unable to move, trapped in their own body.

I held myself back from puking, now knowing the leather and red text this book was bound by and written with. I should have burned it, I should have cleaned the world from its existence, but couldn’t. A burning curiosity filled my soul, needing to understand Dementors. There was so little understood, and even less written, leaving me with nothing to study or learn from. All they gave were warnings but nothing of their habits. I knew that Dementor led me to this book, somehow guiding me to it, wanting me to take the reins of its former creator, but I didn’t understand why. 'But how far am I willing to go to know?' A chilling thought flew into my mind, shivering down my spine as I dispelled it, not wanting to think too much about it. 

I continued to read, but it was slow going, pausing every few minutes to regain some sanity, as well as hold my stomach to withhold anything from escaping my lips. There were a few good spells amidst the horrifying description of chaotic evil. He was a very good wizard in terms of concealing magic, including what the book was bound with, having protections and concealing runes that survived even long past his death. ‘Perhaps the Dementors picked me for some purpose, and that’s why I can see the true appearance of this book?’ I reasoned, flipping the page on more of his descriptions for concealing enchantments.

They were meticulous in one word, but horrific in another. The reason why they worked so well even after death, was from using the blood of oneself or another wizard as a catalyst, demanding sacrifice to work. My guess is that the Dementors purposely removed his enchantments on the island, allowing for more people to find them and let them feed, as in this book, it explained how to reach the island of now Azkaban. It clearly wasn’t his indication to let the world know of his island of evil deeds, only someone to follow his vision. 

I shivered at the idea of that being me, and flipped to the next page, talking more about runes, enchantments, and wards that required the blood of a wizard, but also more spells that controlled the winds and tides. ‘If I can understand how these work, can I create new spells for similar effects?’ I wondered, seeing a kernel of usefulness in this book. Flipping back to the front pages, I glanced back at the recipe for the strange concoction, only labeled Dominion of Fear.

I had to assume that this was how he controlled the Dementors after creating them. The book only said to make it and drink it to attain his former power. I didn’t want that, but I did want to speak with the Dementors, or at least understand them better. I frowned while staring at the ingredients and instructions before finally closing the book, my soul screaming in alarm of attempting such a vile thing, the fear of what might happen to delve into the dark arts. However, somewhat thoughtlessly, I still placed a small slip of paper on the page, using its cipher as a bookmark to return to later, my curiosity already burning with its foot in the door. 

Hermione POV

A week after the incident with Sirius being spotted in the school, and after the hellish homework of Snape teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, forcing everybody to write an essay on how to recognize a werewolf (An essay she felt was used as an attack on Lupin, yet another werewolf she had discovered in school, pressuring her into moving faster), the day that Hermione had been waiting for had finally arrived. A lightning storm was happening during a Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. She made an excuse to not show up, saying she had one last minute assignment for Transfiguration, and went to Professor McGonagall's office.

She was already waiting for Hemione, and quickly rushed her to the closet. Opening it up, McGonagall removed a small cloth, showcasing a vial of green solution. “I trust you have done the ritual at every morning and evening Mrs. Granger.” McGonagall reminded, staring intently at Hermione for any sign of insecurity. “Yes, Professor.” She answered back, not batting an eye under McGonagall's sharp gaze. “Very well, chant it one last time.” Hermione nodded, taking out her wand, and placing it over her chest. She let out a sigh to calm her nerves, being so close to a skill she needed. Amato… Animo… Animato… Animagus!” She chanted with perfect clarity, McGonagall now handing her the small potion.

Hermione opened the cap, and quickly drank the contents, ignoring the bitter taste. The moment the solution entered her stomach, a sudden pain felt as if she had been stabbed in the gut, and it quickly began encompassed her very being. Like her body was being squashed into a suitcase she grunted while gritting her teeth, slightly scared that she failed. “Pain is normal for the first time dear, everything is going well, no need to panic.” McGonagall reassured her, easing her mind as the pain amplified.

Only after the pain ended, did Hermione open her eyes to look at herself. Her body was now covered in dense fur, her hands and feet were webbed paws, and she now had a tail. “An otter I see. Truly an animal with the curiosity that matches you Mrs. Granger.” McGonagall towered above her with a proud smile. Hermione began smiling herself, and quickly thought about changing back, her body slowly morphing back into her usual human figure.

“Thank you so much professor.” McGonagall nodded at Hermione’s gratitude, and began to speak, only to have the door of the classroom fly open, Ron yelling in shock. “Harry’s fallen off his broom! Dementors attacked him again!” Both Hermione and McGonagall rushed out of the room, letting Ron lead the way to the medical wing for Hermione as McGonagall rushed to Dumbledore’s office to speak with him about this.