Celtic Wish—Thank you for the kind review! I admit I haven't seen an Animorphs crossover before, either, but there are so many HP stories out there… Anyway, I'm glad you like it. I shall continue!

And I don't own 'The Wizard of Oz', either.

xxxx

I read the letter, blinked, and read it again. My first thought was 'prank', but owls were temperamental birds of prey, not couriers. Unless maybe it was Marco in disguise—but he would have said something by now. If someone—or many someones, as it seemed—actually used them as carrier pigeons… well. 'Prank' was unfeasible.

Rachel had once told me—jokingly—"It's just 'cus you're magic." I don't remember in reference to what, but I'd certainly never thought she was right.

Well… I could keep being a shapshifting vigilante freedom-fighter from my parents, but going to a boarding school would require permission. And convincing. And not just them, either… I was probably a bit more open-minded than most, as I tend to sneak out at night and morph into a variety of different animals, but magic…?

Well. If this was real, it could help. A lot. Alone, in a low-activity (for Yeerks) area, and at a mere ten years old with parents who couldn't help but check up on me several times while I stayed over at friends' houses… I really didn't do much. But if the others ever needed me, I wanted to be ready, to be able to help. If this whole 'magic' thing pulled through… the possibilities would be endless. There might even be a way to extend or bypass the time-limit, or ways to tell if someone was a Controller. Maybe even ways to remove a Yeerk from an unwilling host without having to deal with Kandrona starvation.

Maybe ways to protect our identities, our families… maybe creatures that could really fight. Lions and tigers and bears (oh my) were all well and good, but if something like dragons really existed, even Visser Three could be brought down. Assuming, of course, that they weren't tiny little helpless things.

Though, considering our luck, they probably would be.

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the thoughts of a war that, as of yet, I could do nothing about. The letter, though, I could do something about, so I brought it to my mother.

Two weeks and a visit from a teacher later, we were in the singularly most unusual alley I'd ever seen. At least, it was called Diagon Alley. It looked more like a small town, albeit a town riddled with unusual things.

The teacher, a brusquely fair woman named Minerva McGonagall, met me and my parents outside a large white marble building called 'Gringotts' that claimed to be a bank. She helped us with the Goblins (who were cool) and explained the money-system. She also pointed out the shops that we would need to visit before going off to buy supplies of her own.

We ran into her again at the bookstore and I found myself talking to her. She was easy to talk to, despite her stern demeanor. Her subject intrigued me—Transfiguration sounded like an external variant of my morphing ability, except powered by magic and will instead of DNA and some extremely complicated technology. (Ax tried to explain it to me once, and I got lost around the first mention of 'Z-space.)

She seemed rather pleased to encounter my interest, and she was very helpful. Undoubtedly, she would be less pleased if she knew just what I was thinking of doing with it… Transfiguring Taxxons seemed like a good way to deal with them. And Yeerks, too. Maybe regular caterpillars and slugs. Transfiguring Visser Three might be kind of fun, too…

"My dear child, are you all right?"

I snapped my attention back to the bespectacled teacher. "Sorry. I was thinking—is it possible to transfigure living things?"

"Yes, of course," Professor McGonagall smiled, "You won't start getting into that until Second Year, of course, it's much more complicated than non-living Transfiguration."

"What about people? Could they learn how to… I don't know, turn into animals or something?"

"Yes, although it is difficult to master," Professor McGonagall smiled slightly, "Every witch or wizard has an animal that, should they have a strong enough magical core as well as a great enough grasp of Transfiguration, they could change into. Of course, you need to register with the Ministry of Magic for it to be legal, and there are very few actual Animagi out there."

"Can you do it?" She had seemed a bit too pleased with the question.

"Yes, I can transform into a cat."

"Really?" Cats were fun. I had a small, dark gray tabby in my repertoire—it was very satisfying to be a cat. The feeling of compact power and the innate confidence and balance… it was wonderful, and there was a sharp edge of cunning, predatory calculation that could be usurped by sheer playfulness at a moment's notice. I wondered if Animagi got the instincts or only the shape of their animals when they changed.

"Yes, really," the smile was indulgent, now, and I got the feeling that this woman liked me.

"Can you change into anything else or is it a one-animal thing?"

"One animal only, I'm afraid. There's never been a Animagus able to transform into more than one."

Ah. Thus the registry—it would put a damper on the misuse of an animal form if you knew someone could just look it up in a Ministry logbook somewhere. Not like us Animorphs—we could change into people just as easily as animals, and could become anything we touched—provided we decided to Acquire DNA. Thinking of which… "What about people?"

A slight frown crossed the woman's face before she understood what I was asking. "No. There are a few people who can naturally change their appearance and a few glamour-spells, but the actual taking on another person's appearance can only be done with a potion. An illegal and highly difficult to brew potion." She smiled a bit, "Besides, the potion only lasts one hour and an Animagus can remain in animal form indefinitely."

Indefinitely? So… There had to be some way to take off the time limit. Maybe not for the others, but at least for me, since I had magic. Hopefully for the others, too… Tobias may be happier as a hawk than a human, but I wouldn't wish his fate on any of the others.

I was suddenly getting a rush of ideas and wanted to talk longer, but my parents found me.

"Tsume, there you are!" Mom blinked, "Oh, I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall. I hope she hasn't been any trouble."

McGonagall gave a truly warm smile, "She's been no trouble at all. It's rare that I find such a young student with this kind of interest in my subject before the first class, especially amongst Muggleborns. I'm looking forward to seeing her during the school year."

My mother nodded to my soon-to-be teacher, then turned to me when McGonagall politely excused herself. "Tsume, you know better than to wander off like that," she scolded, "Stay where your father and I can see you!"

I sighed. Sure, I knew why they were so… overprotective, but it was still annoying. And what on earth were they going to do when I went to a boarding school for six months? "Hai, 'Kaasan." Some of the few words I knew in Japanese—I tried to make use of some of them, as my birthmother had encouraged me to learn the language, but that meant my parents had to put up with it. They did, too, and took it as a sign of apology when I switched to something I still had to think about to speak.

I figured it couldn't hurt to let her think I was sorry for wandering off amongst the bookshelves, though I wasn't. I was sorry that they worried so much, though, and it would amount to the same thing, as far as Mom and Dad were concerned.

Mom nodded, "I know you're excited, but it's best we stay together, at least until we learn the layout of this place."

Tactically speaking, she was right. Although I hoped she would never find out that I tended to think in such terms—I may not be on the frontlines, but I will be and I know it. It's best to prepare while I can.

We went through the shelves and found the assigned First Year books—Beginning Transfiguration, The Standard Book of Spells, Basic Countercharms and Jinxes, and Beginning Potions—and moved on to the Apothecary. Well, the wizard's version, anyway.

It smelled rather nice, really. Like exotic herbs—but it wasn't a pharmacy or store of natural medicine. Instead, it appeared to sell only potion ingredients; everything from mint to beetle eyes, although there was a unicorn horn on a cushion and a small basket of what claimed to be Chinese Fireball scales in the corner. Whatever a Chinese Fireball was… although if those were its scales, I had no doubt that it would be a rather striking creature—anything that shade of red would have to be.

We got the basic kit for First Years and Dad humored me and let me go examine the gleaming white horn in minute detail. Mom opted to leave as quickly as she could, due to her allergies acting up from something in the store.

I really wanted to touch it—who knew? Maybe there was enough viable DNA left in that thing for me to get a blueprint… but the sign said 'No Touching', and I was willing to bet the man behind the counter intended to enforce that rule.

Eventually we made our way to the robe shop, where I suffered through allowing a stranger to measure me. The fact that she was a nice stranger hardly helped—I had to let the woman touch me—but at least she was efficient when she saw how edgy I was. Finally, finally we got to go to Ollivander's.

The wand shop. On one level, it seemed silly—if I could make strange things happen by accident, why should I need a wand to do it on purpose?—but on several others, the idea was alluring. A magic wand. It sounded like something out of a fairytale… and I'd had precious few things childlike in my life of late.

The whole thing sounded like something out of a fairytale. Somewhere in all this wonder and magic there had to be a catch. There just had to be—I mean, if non-magical people could occasionally cause a lot of harm, what would happen should a magical one want to? But for this one day, I was intent on ignoring the fact that somewhere in all of this fairytale wonder there would be the Wicked Witch, just waiting to send out her wretched flying monkeys and I was going to pretend that this was the magical Land of Oz, safe and filled with innocent magics like color-changing horses and nice women who could turn into cats.

The wand shop was not overly endearing, inside or out. It gave the impression of being a rather dusty storeroom for long, as though whoever stored things here made things simply because he liked to, then set them aside as he had no use for them himself. If it weren't for the desk, I would have thought we'd walked into the wrong place—the desk was clean, a spare inkwell and a few scrolls of parchment neatly placed in one corner while an open piece of parchment with neat writing was spread in the middle held by three paperweights and an inkwell with a quill in it.

The man almost snuck up on me—would have if I hadn't had practice with the Animorphs. (Rachel had somehow been convinced to teach me awareness of surroundings… as a cat. Do you have any idea how hard it is to hear a cat when it is deliberately sneaking up on you? And then, of course, Tobias joined in, then Rachel in owl-morph, so I'd keep an eye on the sky as well. Unlike hawks, owls make virtually no noise when they're flying…)

I heard him just a few feet shy of 'too close to dodge' and spun.

My father jumped at the action. (Mom had waited outside when she'd seen the dust.)

"Ah, Tsume," the man said softly, "I had wondered when you would be in for your wand."

The fact that he knew my name could be explained away any number of ways, but I found myself wondering if any of these magic-users could read minds. It would be bad news for me if they could.

Calm, I ordered myself. I could do calm. I could do focus—it helped with morphing, turned it from something grotesque to something elegant, even beautiful. It also, I'd found, could be used to get rid of injuries without attracting notice. A cut on the hand, and said hand could be flipped over, the skin shifted (preferably to something not long-furred) and shifted back without anyone seeing, and the cut would be gone. The same tactic could be employed while in morph, and it was quick. I could even do meditate. My therapist had taught me how, before he started me in on martial arts, then insisted I continue.

A slight frown crossed the man's face, then he carefully selected a box from a dusty shelf and opened it before handing me the wand it held. "Beech wood and dragon heartstring," he stated, "fourteen inches, rigid."

It took me a moment to understand that he was describing the wand, but I took it anyway.

"Well, go on, give it a wave."

I hesitated, then shrugged. The stick felt oddly alive in my grasp, but it grated against my sense of self and the pulse of energy it gave off was brief and stinging.

I dropped it with a yelp and glared down at the offending piece of beech. "No."

"It would seem not," Ollivander agreed, bending to pick up the wand and return it to its place. He came back with another and an intent expression—something that made me nervous, to say the least.

"Try this one," he offered me a plain length of dark wood with no further explanation.

It grated much like the other had and I handed it back without waving, "No. I'm not getting zapped again."

He blinked, "What makes you believe you would be?"

"It feels like the other one," I informed him. "So, based on experience, it should do the same thing."

"Hm," the man seemed altogether too interested at that, but didn't ask me to wave the wand. "Perhaps dragon heartstring is not for you." He placed the wand back in its box and set it aside before reaching for another, seemingly at random. "Try this one."

It was a light, silvery wood—perhaps birch or aspen. I took it.

The feel was different, not grating and more alive, but it felt too… hot, somehow. I waved it anyway, but its draw was strange and it made me feel feverish and dizzy. I shook my head and handed it back, "Too warm."

"Phoenix feather," he explained. "It seems you have a natural ability to tell a wand's core, and whether it would be right for you. Why don't you just walk though and pick one."

To a wandmaker, that was probably some great talent, but to anyone else, it would hardly be useful. Still, I was grateful for the offer—it meant no more shocks or instant fevers. The first wand I touched felt clean, too clean. Pure on a level beyond anything I'd felt before, so of course I asked what it was.

Ollivander came and glanced at it, "Tea tree and unicorn hair, from a foal. Not very powerful, but very good for healing."

"Mm," I moved on. Of course unicorns would feel pure, and so would baby animals—put them together and… voila. Although I doubted I would be a healer. Another felt clean, but not that overwhelming purity—but still not right. I ran into several more grating prickliness and a few of that great warmth, one of which felt comforting. I mentally marked where that one was and continued on.

Then I touched one that felt icy cold, somehow. The wand itself was a deep, clearish red—like crystallized blood or fire—and had a soothing, pungent smell. Somehow it felt familiar, the chill as comforting as the phoenix-feather wand of silver birch. "What is this one?"

"Thestral hair and crystallized Dragon's Blood," Ollivander stated.

I blinked. "Dragon's blood?"

"No, not the animal. There is a tree from China which bleeds red sap called 'Dragon's Blood°'. A fellow wandmaker who lives near where the tree grows sent me some and insisted I make a wand with it."

I nodded my understanding and moved on, again mentally marking the place in my mind.

Not a single other wand in the shop felt right. I sighed and turned to Ollivander after sending my father an apologetic glance. He'd been waiting patiently, even though I know he just wanted to get out of there.

"There are two, Mr. Ollivander."

"Two?" That seemed to come as a surprise, but he shrugged slightly. "Bring them and we'll have a look."

I retrieved the two boxes and Ollivander's eyebrows rose, "Well, well. That is curious. Very curious indeed."

I didn't want to ask… unfortunately, Dad did. "How so?"

"This wand," Ollivander laid his hand over the box with the birch wand, "is made from phoenix tail feather and silver birch. The phoenix was a young female—no more than three hundred. The phoenix, as you probably know, is a symbol for eternal life. Unless they are killed, they live forever by being reborn in fire. The other is Thestral hair and Dragon's Blood. Thestrals are a symbol of death, because only someone who has witnessed death can see them."

Huh. That was curious.

"Take them out, one at a time, and give each a wave."

I did as I was told, lifting the Dragon's Blood wand out of its box and swishing it down through the air. I felt as though I had an icy wind blowing through me, refreshing and wonderful—and, somewhat to my surprise, the red wand erupted in a shower of silver and black sparks that sprinkled through the air and floated upwards to the ceiling before slowly blinking out.

The phoenix feather wand had an oddly similar yet completely opposite reaction. I felt as though I'd just settled down in front of a warm fire, a soothing sort of sense of well-being seeping through me as red and gold sparks scattered down towards the floor. On total impulse, I picked up the Thestral wand without putting the birch one down, and the two sensations mixed and clashed, not blending so much as coexisting, filling me with a strange sensation of cold warmth.

Ollivander slowly relaxed, apparently having become alarmed when I decided to pick up two clashing wands at the same time.

"Perhaps both would suit you," he mused finally. "The Thestral wand is better for Transfiguration and Defense while the phoenix wand is wonderful for charm-work. Both are exactly nine inches. Do please be careful with them. Twelve Galleons."

Dad paid while I idly wondered just what I was getting myself into.

xxxx

Dragon's Blood—believe it or not, to the best of my knowledge that bit is true. At least according to the man who runs Aurora Essences in Haines, Alaska. A lot of people find Dragon's Blood smells a bit overpowering by itself, but combined with amber it's really quite soothing. I don't doubt that, dried into amber itself, its scent would be much fainter—almost unnoticeable from any distance.

All right, the bit about the therapist and meditating and martial arts—I wasn't kidding. He thought I was too timid and that learning martial arts would be good for me. We never got past basic stances, as he decided to start a dojo and I was in boarding school, but for the sake of this story, we're going to assume actual training. I know the two-wands thing might be a bit odd, but you'll come to understand the symbology I'm going for later, I hope.

This chapter was a bit slow, but things should pick up a bit more next. Trains are wonderful things.