Concentrate, Draco, concentrate.

Draco Malfoy closed his eyes briefly at the reminder, letting his fork settle to his plate and breathing in deeply once. Opening his eyes, he regained his calm. If this wasn't so stupid as to be almost funny, he would enjoy the ritual… however even needing to do it for such a reason was quite distressing.

When in the world did my panic from lateness get so bad that I have to go through the calming ritual?!

And there he was once more, panicking over nothing whatsoever and being forced to calm down again so his housemates didn't notice anything aloof. Under the table, Draco discreetly lifted up a hand and regarded it. It was trembling.

"Thank you, thank you!" boomed from the head table, and Draco was horrified as the food vanished from his plate. He hadn't had much time to eat to begin with, with him being late combined with the effects of not being able to wolf as the rabid Griffindors did and the aftereffects of too much adrenaline, so Draco had barely had time to take a bite. Glancing sideways beneath his bangs, he saw Blaise smile sweetly at him, and he groaned inwardly as he saw his lack of breakfasting had been noticed. First rule of the Slytherins—make sure no one noticed anything, while noticing everything yourself. Unfortunately, the result of this sort of motto was that everyone was constantly in the act of spying, even within their own House… and they really didn't need that, being how disliked they were in the grand scheme of Hogwarts. Draco looked at his still trembling hand and sighed inaudibly.

"Again, I thank you, students, for letting me stay here and cast my spell of protection on this wonderful castle and home! And of course your headmaster, Dumbledore, for even allowing such a thing!" The portly man guffawed as he turned to Dumbledore, who was still sitting and smiling serenely, and Dumbledore rose and shook his hand. The man seemed to be expecting applause, and Draco frowned at him in immediate dislike as a few students throughout the room tentatively began clapping.

"So," the man said, not even losing steam in the face of tired, Monday dreading students, "my name is Draconis Berenstein, and I'm a Ministry official here to help. My office number is and my credentials are…" Draco shut the man out as he began listing, but he couldn't shut out the surge of anger at the man's name. Draconis? This ugly, fat little man was named DRACO?! Glaring hatefully up at the head table, Draco gradually became aware of interrupting murmurings, and realized that most of the attention in the Great Hall, instead of on the loathsome man, was on him. He turned away from the "Ministry official" and widenened his glare onto all the students, making sure it lost none of its power.

Smirking lightly at the positive effect he was having, this effect being that everyone was looking very rapidly away, he turned to his table, ready to focus on his breakfast and ignore everyone in the Slytherin table, who were not actively whispering but rather actively watching. But regrettably, his breakfast was no longer there, and he scowled briefly, remembering the reason, and looking up to hear the man's last words.

"--Thus, thank you for all listening, and soon I shall cast the animagus spell that will enable you all to be safe from the Dark Arts and other such dangerous people and their wands."

Draco snorted in his head, but that was as far as he got as the man suddenly waved a wand hidden in his sleeve. Focusing on the previous words he had uttered, Draco's eyes suddenly grew wide. The animagus spell…? Oh no, oh no-- Hogwarts' headmaster did not have the power to cast such a spell on an army of uninformed students, and definitely not on himself, Draco Malfoy! Horrified, Draco rose quickly from his bench, the nervous trembling filling his whole body again as he prepared to address the headmaster. But it was too late, as a shower of dangerous-looking sparks suddenly erupted from the end of Berenstein's wand and shot off zinging out the doors and throughout the castle. Draco had the sudden feeling of shrinking, and he allowed himself one deep breath before all went dark.

Draco awoke from the transformation completely intact, and a flash of relief settled as he rotated quickly around his new body checking for injuries or missing limbs. Nothing was missing, he was full-bodied and fully capable of what he should be able to do. Coiling tightly around himself, Draco closed everything off except for his eyes, which were left balefully warning off everything awake around him, and concentrated on his situation.

First off—everyone here should be an animagus. That was easy enough, and despite the spell's contradictory nature, it seemed the Ministry official who was not actually a Ministry official had pulled off the spell according to what it should have performed. Much better than being splinched, Draco concluded with an almost-invisible shudder.

Secondly—he would not be able to control the Slytherins with this new situation. As a dangerous but small snake, he would be crushed at the slightest disapproving action, and neither money nor fame would help him here. Poison? Draco evaluated thoughtfully. But no, that wouldn't work either… his poison would have less effect on the same animal he himself was. Who had ever heard of snakes mauling snakes in nature? There was obviously some kind of reasoning behind it.

Thirdly—he needed control, now. With the almost complete loss of his Slytherin reign, Draco would not have access to the information he needed, though for a time he could hold off his father by blaming him for not being previously informed. Nevertheless, even for himself he craved the power and control he was used to having, and he knew that without it Draco was going to be a very, very sorry snake.

Thus, what to do. The Slytherins were no longer accessible, as easily concluded by the subtle shifting of the massive Anaconda next to him, and this completely threw the social situation of Hogwarts into turmoil. A wave of panic briefly engulfed him at the direct thought, but Draco pushed it back with an angry inward shove. He had the advantage here—he had been forced into this spell before where he doubted any other had. He knew his capabilities. And in addition to that, this was a very valuable opportunity if he could use it correctly. Focusing his eyes again, which had begun a feared wandering with the previously terrifying thought—Draco snorted at himself—the concentration began again. This was just another exercise, another test to see if he could manipulate a situation to its utmost potential. And if it could be done, Draco would do it.

Testing the air, Draco uncoiled slowly, knowing that even if he didn't have a plan quite yet, staying here would ruin it before it existed. He had awakened earlier than most of the zoo in here, disregarding the blue-eyed owl above him who was currently floating on an invisible current and looking down curiously, and that meant he had yet another advantage. The advantage being, at this point, to get away from Zabini, who was the anaconda, and get his tail out of there before the Slytherin table discovered how tiny he was and decided to destroy him. Draco had aimed for power when he had owned the Slytherins, not friends, and he was sure to be benefited from if he stayed here.

Aiming opposite his table, Draco attempted a smirk on his snake face when he passed the Hufflepuff table. It didn't work all that well, he thought regretfully, but then again, there were always snake expressions. The only disappointment was that most humans didn't know snake expressions—a pity, that. Shaking himself abruptly, Draco told himself to concentrate. How could he think about expressions when he didn't even have a plan yet? Snapping, he passed the flock of birds without further ado and continued on to wherever his unconscious seemed to be taking him.

Hm, Draco thought interestedly, gazing at the row of awakening monkeys, Ravenclaws. It wasn't like each table had a specified animal, but there seemed to a large portion of each House transformed a certain type. Draco quickly turned his head to what he could see of the Slytherin Table from this low vantage point. A lot were snakes, yes, and according to what Draco thought they were the true Slytherins, but there were quite a lot of other odd animals back there too. Turning away from the array of foxes, raccoons, mongooses, and even a panther, Draco set off again, slithering as rapidly as possible around and underneath tables.

Ahah! Draco's mind declared, as he finally made it all the way across the Great Hall and was now present at the woefully uneducated Gryffindor table. Draco raised an internal eyebrow at himself and moved on. It seemed he wanted to be present at… what the hell is a wolf doing over here?!

For indeed it was true. The Gryffindor side of the room was almost completely destroyed; possibly having something to do with the disturbing amount of elephants present, but even their huge bulk did not disguise the oddity of a completely black wolf present in the mess. There were horses and dogs—oh yes, lots of dogs—a few camels—whaa?—an otter, even a few hard-core lions in there—but there was only one wolf. And it stuck out like a sore thumb.

To Draco's somewhat bemused, but mostly aghast dismay, he seemed to be heading straight towards this completely black wolf. Draco was thus presented with quite a conundrum—should he follow the logical course, or should he follow his instincts? His father's voice quickly rung in his head—Always have a plan, never act without reason—but Draco's own experiences contradicted the statement just as strongly, filling him with a piqued sense of confusion. Draco had found that his instincts were often very good. Almost every mistake he had made had been a result of ignoring it, or cutting in with other emotions before it had finished doing what it did with him—the hippogriff situation, the Hermione-punching him situation, numerous issues with his mother… he winced at the implications. The only situation where his instinct had failed him was that first day at Madam Malkin's, when he met Harry Potter. He had reached out to befriend him, as Draco had felt was exactly what he should have done, following what he felt, of course, and he had been rejected. Quite badly, in fact.

Nevertheless, thought Draco, ridding himself of these thoughts, he had punished Harry Potter in the end and it all worked out for the best anyway. He couldn't imagine what his father would have done if it had worked out… but back to the present, he was almost attached to the dark wolf, and he had to make his choice here and now. Plan now, act later—and possibly lose a valuable opportunity—or act now, plan later, and possibly destroy himself. Draco flicked his tongue out again, an expression of which he didn't know the meaning but found himself using quite lot. The slightest of pauses, and then…

Nobody saw the black snake quickly slither up and under the thick fur of the rousing black wolf, and when bright green eyes opened a moment later, Harry Potter was far too busy being alarmed to notice the sliding of smooth scales weighing across his back.