All right, we all know that in the world of fanfiction, almost a hundred percent of the time (or in other words, 99.99999/100) Harry is supposed to become an animagus. However, the possibilities within that are endless. Join Harry and friends as he goes on a safari to find his inner beast (with Fred and George taking bets along the way!)
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, Sirius would be alive, among other things. Enough said.
Harry the?
You're Behind the Times, Harry!
It was fifth year. The first week had been boring, and since Harry didn't intend on doing his homework until Sunday night, he couldn't think of anything to do. So now we find our teenage hero slouched in a chair in the Gryffindor common room, staring at the wall. Well, at least until Hermione found him.
"Harry Potter! What are you doing?!" she said. Her voice was loud and demanding. Harry winced.
"I don't want to start my homework yet!" he complained.
"I wasn't going to talk about that, though you do need to finish it, Harry, or you'll never be prepared," Hermione was interrupted.
"Hermione, that isn't what we came to talk about!" Ron said.
Harry tried to figure out where he had appeared from (after all, Hogwarts, A History did say you couldn't apparate or disapparate on school grounds) but he ignored that fact in the hopes he could find out what he did wrong.
"Okay, Ron, I get the point. Anyways, Harry, you're behind schedule!" Hermione admonished.
"What?" Harry was confused. Hermione hadn't already drawn up more schedules to study for OWLs, had she?
"You're supposed to become an animagus this year, Harry, I thought you knew that!" she said.
"What?" the issue was not becoming any clearer.
"You're supposed to want to become an animagus, Harry, didn't you know that! It's in almost every fanfiction out there!" Hermione said.
"What?" Harry was a hero with a limited vocabulary. If you need any confirmation of this fact, ask Snape.
"Fanfiction Harry, you know, the…" Hermione slapped her hand over her mouth, "um, never mind, you're not supposed to know about that."
"What am I not supposed to know about?" Harry asked. His vocabulary was expanding. Of course, if your friends with Hermione Granger, then it is in the contract that a fringe benefit of being Hermione's friend is that your vocabulary will expand, if only in self-defense.
"I said never mind that!" Hermione snapped. She really wasn't supposed to mention anything about that. That, and she didn't want to mention some of the things that were on the site. Absolutely ridiculous it was, some of it!
"I'd just go along with her" Ron whispered, "It's safer."
"All right, Hermione, but I still don't get why I have to become an animagus," Harry complained.
"Why are you questioning me about this? Don't you want to see what you will be? Don't you think it might be useful? Wouldn't it be nice to try and do something just like your dad?" Hermione asked.
Harry was a bit shocked. "I never really thought about it," he said, musing. It might be interesting, at that.
"You're hopeless, Harry!" Hermione said.
"Okay, okay, I agree with you, I'll try and become an animagus already," Harry said. The idea really was beginning to grow on him, "What do I have to do?"
"Right!" Hermione said, finally satisfied, "It's time to do research!"
"What?! You never said anything about research!" Ron said accusingly, "You just told me that we could turn into animals!"
"Honestly, Ron, why do you think so few people become animagi? It's not easy! It's a process that takes years!" Hermione admonished.
Harry, who the author momentarily forgot, suddenly popped back up into the conversation. "I agree with Ron, Hermione. I don't want to spend too much time on something like that. It might not even come in very handy. For instance, what if Ron became a peacock? That wouldn't be very useful!"
"Hey, why do I have to be the peacock?!" Ron said, annoyed, "I'm going to become some creature that is a brilliant strategist and a loyal friend, because I am good at chess and always stick to my friends no matter what!"
"What about the Firebolt?" Hermione protested, "and Crookshanks? You weren't such a loyal friend there! And before the troll, you thought I was all I was was a brainy bookworm!"
"You still are," Ron muttered defensively.
"And during fourth year," Harry pointed out, "You were so sure that I deceived you and entered the tournament even though I never once suggested or said that I was interested in it! You based your entire argument on one little observation I made, and ignored everything else!"
"All right all right, I get it! I'm still not a peacock," Ron mumbled.
"No, little brother, of course not!" George, or was it Fred, said, slinging his arm over Ron's shoulders.
"Right, my dear Forge! A flobberworm, that is what you shall be!" said Fred, or was it George? Now I'm confused! …wait…you didn't read that! This isn't the author speaking! You are simply hallucinating, because I am the author and know all! Return to the story!
"Shove off!" Ron said, twisting out of his dear brother's grasp, "We're talking about things privately! You can't know about us turning into animagi!"
"Tsk tsk," it was George speaking now, and the author figured that out because George has a freckle on his right cheek that is shaped like England. How does she know this? She doesn't, really, she's just making all this up. Why are you even reading this, it's rubbish, return to the story immediately! And don't forget to review, because the author is of course one of the best reviewers and always reviews every story she reads whether she likes it or not because she is of course not a hypocrite and wouldn't ask people to review if she wasn't a constant and regular reviewer herself. Now, back to the story! Shoo!
Where was I?
Right.
"Tsk tsk," said Fred…I mean George! George. "After all of those times you've spied on others, and you're telling us to simply to ignore this rather enlightening conversation? Absurd!"
"It is, my dear brother, quite the hypocrites they are!" Fred said.
"But never mind that, we shall go and leave them to their delusions of privacy and secrecy!" George declared. I am quite sure it is George this time.
"Right!" Fred said, and the two left. As soon as they were out of sight from prying eyes (since those are everywhere, as we all well know) they got some powder out, dusted it onto their hands, and reached up into what seemed to be thin and rather empty air. They tugged, hard, and the author fell onto the dusty castle floor, coughing. She looked up, disgruntled.
"Whatever was that for?" she asked angrily.
The one she had called Fred spoke, "First off, I'm not Fred, and I'm George. Honestly, woman, if you're going to write, get it straight!"
George, or Fred, actually, added, "Really! And you call yourself an author! You can't even tell us apart!"
The author stood up, brushing herself off angrily, "How am I supposed to tell the two of you apart when your own mother can't?! I'm surprised you know, after all these years! If you're twins, you've always looked alike, and that means that your mother probably couldn't tell you apart when you were younger any better then she can now, which means you both know which is which!" The author stood triumphant, hands on hips, smirking confidently.
Fred came over (at least, she hoped it was Fred, she was starting to get a headache) and patted her on the shoulder consolingly. "It's really quite simple, my poor delusional writer. When we were younger, Mum always dressed George in green clothes, and she dressed me in blue. Or was it the other way around?"
"Anyways," George continued, "We know quite well who we are, and would thank you to stop mixing us up!"
The author stamped her foot from frustration. "You are always together; don't you ever get tired of it? How do you maintain separate identities if you are never separate?! You might as well just be FredandGeorge or GeorgeandFred for all the difference it makes! And why do you expect me to know these things?! It's not like I can see you while I'm writing, and you don't seem to expect everyone else to know! Why do you pick on me?!"
Fred and George shrugged. "You're the author. You're supposed to know, and it does get tiring that even authors mix us up. You don't know how many fanfiction stories we've had to sit through while we worked on developing this powder. Some of the things," here they both shuddered, "Bloody awful. You're not too bad, but at least get us straight, right?"
"And stop making us talk in British/American accents! We're British, doncha know?" George said.
"I'm American! The only British I know I learned from movies and books and things! At least I've read the books!" the author protested.
"Oh, bloody hell, just choose one and stick with it! I'm getting a headache switching from one to another!" Fred complained.
"I'll try," the author grumbled.
"Right!" the two said, and sauntered off, whistling. The author, left to her own devices, was trying to figure out how to get back to her house. She tried climbing up the walls a few times, only to slid off and fall flat on her butt.
"Drat!" the author said finally. She stayed on the ground, and waited patiently for inspiration to strike. When it finally did, she felt like smacking herself on the head.
"Drat it all, I'm the author. I just have to write that I'm back home!" The author looked around, and seeing no convenient writing supplies on hand, settled for writing in the dust. She almost jumped for joy when she suddenly appeared back in her home in front of her computer.
"Right. Now, it's time for those twins!" the author said, rubbing her hands together malevolently, if that was possible.
In the hallways, the twins felt a cold wind blow through them, or at least that's how it felt to them. It dried their eyes out, and they closed their eyes for a moment. When they opened them, they saw an appalling sight. George, who was facing Fred, looked at what had happened to his brother.
Fred was clothed in green, a soft, moss green robe. The scarf around his neck, that normally alternated red and gold, alternated light green and silver. Where his school crest generally was, in small, flowing script was written, "I am Fred."
Meanwhile, as George looked at his brother, horrified, Fred looked at his twin, equally horrified. George's robes where now a light baby blue, his scarf alternating the same blue as his robes and a cream color. Like his brother, where his school crest was normally instead the words in the same, flowing script as the other robe were the words, "I am George."
"She didn't," Fred breathed. (The author cackles, triumphant, for now she could tell them apart)
"She did," George confirmed. They conjured a mirror, and looked at themselves. They turned around, and saw that the flowing script was repeated in a much larger size on the back, with the same identifying markers. They turned back to face the mirror, and the mirror suddenly become opaque from condensation. As the twins watched, words appeared on the mirror.
"I have followed your wishes, and will now be able to call you by your respective name. These clothes cannot be altered and changed out of, except during baths, for the remaining time of this fanfiction. Please enjoy your new clothing!"
"I thought I was Fred!" the one with George complained.
"I don't know, I can't remember," the one with Fred written upon his robes commented.
"I guess it doesn't matter that much," the one now known as George said, shrugging.
"True!" the one now known as Fred said. They sauntered off, whistling. They would be able to work around this.
End of Chapter One
Yes, an HP fanfiction! For those that have followed me from my main fandom, Inuyasha, well, surprise surprise! Anyways, this idea has been bothering me for awhile, so I decided to try it out! It always made me laugh, while reading HP fanfiction, all the fanfictions that make him an animagus and all the varieties of animals he has become. JK Rowling (who I have a few other issues with) never actually makes him that interested in being an animagus. In fact, the closest thing to it that happens is before the second task when Harry jokingly suggests becoming a fish (I think it was a fish) animagus.
Anyways, I'm going to have fun with this. It is so not finished yet, so stay tuned!
By the way, I am open to what you think Harry should become! I know what he's going to become in the end, but … I'll be able to incorporate your ideas, so feel free to shout out! Don't be shy! Or you can propose your all time favorite most ridiculous animagus form that you have had Harry have. All suggestions that I use will be referenced at the end of the chapter.