"I hate all the things that can happen between the beginning of a sentence and the end." - Leonard CoheN
DE018RK
Sirius opened his father's old diary and flicked to the page he had last been reading. The page was headed On Power.
At first he thought it was going to be Dark. And/or Disturbing. Instead it was about neutral relics and rituals, the majority of which had been corrupted over the centuries, Sirius knew. But a few had not been, Sirius found. Harry was too young for most and Sirius too tainted, but there were a few that could be useful. Three ritual protections, one based on smoking an herb regularly, and the fifth was a relic that was, amazingly enough, upstairs. The Potters's Bollocks Dagger. It was somewhat like the Elder Wand of legend in that it was a focus that was allegedly handed down by a personification—Venus in this case—but the Bollocks Dagger did not make the wielder unbeatable. Instead, it allowed them to know if a person a wielder wanted to seduce could be by letting them know if they were actually interested. Sirius debated telling Harry or not then decided to ask Charlus about it. The ghost probably knew, he decided. It was not a particularly rare book but the dagger was considered a legend. Sirius was only sure it was the same because of the markings on the dagger and the design in the book.
He chuckled, imagining what it would have been like to have that dagger back when he was first trying to lay a witch. He might have succeeded at fourteen instead of not getting a witch in the sack until he was sixteen.
He went back to reading the rituals. One was the same as the ritual of protection that was used for the first Wielder's wife. Sirius discounted that one. He didn't want a potential hiccup in Harry's ability to protect himself. The second ritual was a Bonding of Silver and Blood to protect oneself from vampires. He ignored that one as well. A darkling was a better protection than having silver in one's blood. The third was viable but unlikely to be used. Harry would have to raise a rabbit, name it, then sacrifice it. He doubted Harry would want to do that. So the final one was the herb smoking one, a way to change the way a smoker perceives magic. It was indescribably expensive to attain, partially because the dragon manure required was illegal in the magical United Kingdom and the herb was illegal in the mundane United Kingdom. Sirius smiled. Harry's fledgling intelligence agency had significant pull to ignore certain laws.
He called for Sinister to bring him his writing desk and then settled in to write a letter to one of his spies, an Herbology Master who was now the Botanist-in-Chief of Herbalmage, a monthly botany catalog and magazine.
My dear friend, he started the letter, misspelling and erasing and rewriting dear twice to signify the letter was not an intelligencer oriented missive but a friendly one.
I recently came across an entry on toclafane enhanced cannabis sativa. I hoped you would be able to share any information newer than what's in this book I read.
He added what the book said then check the files and asked how the woman's husband—Chipper—and their children—Valla and Halla, were then enclosed a small packet of rare seeds, adding a postscript saying he had no idea what they were. In fact he did; they were blood roses, a white rose that, when fed thestral blood, gradually took on the most beautiful hue of crimson and were ice-covered. A bit of a bribe.
~•~
Serra Svati nodded at her assistant as the young witch brought in a thick pile of mail.
As she flipped through, she saw a letter from her handler. She had already accepted being reactivated but wondered how her new position outside of the Ministry could help the Light.
Then she saw it was just a request for information with a packet of seeds. She set those aside for her assistant to look at and opened the letter, noticing the rubbing on the page where the writing had been erased. There was no encoding in the page.
She read through it quickly then took out a fresh sheet of forest green parchment and dipped her quill in her emerald ink.
Dear Sirius, she began.
It's so good to hear from you again so soon. Your request comes at an opportune time as I am about to leave for Denmark to discuss Toclafane with dragon breeders and have been reading up on it lately. Toclafane causes a magical change in marijuana that when used long term by a magical allows for a user to experience magic differently. Anecdotal evidence shows that magesight becomes an instinctive spell for many as well as a more intuitive feel to magic as the magic of the herb permeates the body. I know of a handful of people who currently partake and I will ask them for their experiences.
She added that the kids and her husband were doing well and suggested he join them for dinner one night soon. She knew he would decline. Mostly because Serra was his first sexual experience that went badly when a family curse she had never been told about had her grow vagina dentata and nearly castrated him.
Darkan Greystave smiled as Albus walked into his office. He stood and crossed the room to hug the man. "What brings you to America?"
Albus smiled. "Harry Potter and his guardian need bodyguards. And I believe they may want to buy you out."
"Really?" he asked, gesturing Albus to sit and summoning a bottle from the wet bar. He poured two fingers of vanilla infused bourbon then sat. "I am looking to retire. And most of my people would be fine with moving."
"I think they would end up going worldwide," Albus said then took a sip. "Oh, quite excellent."
"Really? What are they planning?"
"Classified."
Darkan nodded. "Of course. Well, I have a few teams right now that can transfer to England immediately: our contract with Gala ended so I have five teams on standby. We have a place in Diagon Alley I can rent to you to house them. And they have a couple yurts to use as mobile command centers."
"Yurts. I've heard of those before but I've never seen one."
"They're brilliant. They're used by Mongolians. They're round and very easy to put up. Our fifteen foot models can house a full company along with their supplies, support personnel, and still have enough space to expand out for another couple platoons if necessary. I'll get you one for your birthday."
"Speaking of birthdays," Albus said. "Thank you for the scarf last year."
"Well, I was sure you were sick of books and I was down for four months and stuck at home so I took up knitting. And I am so sick of getting war related stuff myself, i presumed you were as sick of books as I am."
"For the most part. I did receive one by accident I rather enjoyed. It was called The Witches of Wellingham. It was very gripping."
"Ahh, a robe-ripper? My wife loved those. She probably had it. She was writing them near the end, putting out a couple a month."
Their conversation strayed back to Harry Potter's needs and after forty minutes time a cost for the personnel and a cost for the business was settled. Greystave would be Harry's as soon as Sirius sent forth an offer for two hundred fifty thousand galleons. A bit of a discount but Albus had assured his friend that none of his employees would be let go.
The two shook hands then Albus looked at the available teams. Like all of the members of The Greystave Group, each team had been heavily modified with magical surgery to resemble each other if female or change their bodies to a more impressive physical specimen if male. Each male had nearly non-existent body fat, had to be able to bench press four times their own weight, and had to be able to handle the rage issues the change made. The females all received less invasive changing that didn't cause the rage issues, Albus knew so he decided on a significantly female team. And they would be more welcomed by Sirius Albus was quite sure.
"This team, the Angels of Barthe, how long have they worked together?"
"Ahh, they're relatively new. They've been together for four years now. They all are twenty-seven. The two men have had no rage issues since their modifications. It's a good choice: they've worked as Quick Response teams for the accidental magical squads. The reports from them say they're excellent with kids."
"You use mercenaries here for government functions?"
"Here in New York, yes. Since my teams are all no-maj born or halfbloods raised partially no-maj, they're all good at dealing with the no-maj parents."
"I do wish we involved the muggle parents sooner like you do here in the Colonies," he said, using Colonies on purpose to antagonize Darkan who rolled his eyes and scoffed. Albus smirked.
Darkan touched a small box on his desk. "Amoritia, I need the files on the Angels of Barthe."
She brought in nine scrolls and set them on the desk. "Angel 2 was just reset, grandpa. Be careful. I'm going out for lunch now. My new car is being delivered."
"Be safe," he told her.
"I didn't know you had a granddaughter," Albus said once she left.
"Damian married last year, that's his stepdaughter Lilith but I've known her since she was two. I think you met her."
"Oh, yes. I remember her. When you visited London in '82. She finished at Ilvermorny last year?"
"Year before."
Albus nodded and accepted the scroll that stated everything the Angels had done since beginning at the company.
Their first mission post the six months of training and the nine months of potions and magical work had been to rescue a team of Curse-breakers in the Amazon. It had turned out a little messy from what he read but they had saved all the people save one and stopped the minor daemon released.
Their next mission was a month later and they were inserted via portkeys and brooms to the top of a magically hidden mesa in Colorado. The team had led with expulso curses that bracketed the ritual, he read. Then they had landed and waded into the battle using swords and minor blasting spells.
The rest of their missions were usually less violent but they were competent from curse-breaking to dark creatures to ritual degradation.
"Yes, I think they'll do. But of course Sirius will have to sign off. And Harry as well. He's come into his family inheritance early."
"Magic or money?"
"Both, technically. When Sirius adopted him, he decided that Harry should have full control of his own assets. Harry decided he should have a trust fund instead. He's a good kid," Albus said. "Sadly, many people want him dead."
Serra shook the hand of Jak Bjornson, the wizard who met her at the train station, then Serra was fast tracked through customs.
A waiting limo drove them to a reservation hidden in Rømø where dragons were kept deep underground, their manure harvested for toclafane spores.
In the massive underground caverns, male dragons were kept in separate caves where they were fed the meat of other dragons, every two hundred pounds of meat covered with a fried egg from a common welsh green dragon and seasoned with Himalayan pink salt, green peppercorns, and ghost peppers grown in a cave in Ecuador in the Andes: the formulaic ritual created a toclafane spore for every fifteen pounds of manure which had to be sifted and found before an hour was up after extrusion or it would die.
As she was shown to a cavern where handlers were digging through dragon feces, looking for the spore—a macroscopic creature she was surprised to learn when she saw the thumb sized purple and pink protozoan. It was immediately placed inside a potion, cleansing the dung from it before it was added to seven pounds of sugar. It went wild, eating it rapidly, growing until it split.
In the forty minutes she watched, it split into 65537 spores in total before the sugar was all eaten. Those spores began to eat each other, splitting and consuming until once again there was only one remaining, this one massive, its body bulging oddly until it exploded into a gooey mess in the cauldron. More sugar was added then the mixture was added to mulched dragon manure.
"That's fascinating," Serra said as she watched the brown mixture turn black, the nitrite crystals in it turning green from the gooey mess. Purplish-black sand was added until it was turned into 42 lbs of soil and compacted into a cube.
"This is going to the Caribbean. They'll be using it to create a new flower clock."
"How many countries are you able to sell this stuff to?"
"Forty. Mostly tropical countries that are former French colonies."
"Probably why it's illegal in my country. Speaking of, I have a client who is looking for more information on the spore. Is there any literature I could get for him? He may be able to use it in the UK."
"Really?"
Serra shrugged. "I don't know the particulars but he is very interested in toclafane enhanced cannabis sativa."
"Ah, the really good stuff," Jak said, grinning. "I wish I could afford to get it. The only place legal to grow it right now is in Uruguay, the witches there are pretty good at it too. A month's supply is about a thousand galleons."
"I wonder if the cost is due to the rarity since it's only available from there?"
He shrugged. "Seems reasonable. I'll find the paperwork and have it for you tomorrow before the conference or send it to you."
They shook hands then Jak passed her off to another handler, this one a petite witch with a dragon-claw scar on her face, framing her eye so it looked like a half-moon spectacle. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Svati. My mom reads your column religiously. She has this climbing column of ice dragonlilies that she said it's your column that won her the past four display awards she's gotten."
"Your mum is Harrietta Mabit?"
The girl grinned. "Yeah!"
"She's got a great eye for building trellis displays. I have two pictures of her displays in our display at the office for visitors to look at. What's your name?"
"Maribella."
She showed Serra around for a few more hours, showing her how the omelettes were made—the wizard doing the work was half-giant and wearing a chef's neckerchief and chapeau in white over a crimson red chef's jacket and a pair of baggy checked trousers.
"Ever tried dragon egg?" he asked as he flipped the one in his pan.
"No, are they good?"
He held up a finger then flipped the egg onto a platter and cut off a small bit of the white and the yolk and held them out on tooth picks.
"Whoa," Serra said. "Spicy!"
He grinned and held out a glass of milk. "But good, eh?"
"Yeah. It had a bit of a—well more of a very—spicy pepperoni flavor to it."
Sirius shook the hand of the last member of Harry's new security team, the second of the two men. They both had mostly shaved heads with the one with gold eyes having a three foot long reinforced braid from a four inch circle of hair on the back of his head while the other wizard had icy blue eyes and a green X-shaped mohican. Sirius was fairly sure Harry was going to think that looked awesome.
"So while Harry's at school, what are you going to do?"
"Professor Dumbledore said that you have multiple properties that need to be secured, including a location in Hogsmeade, a new castle, this home, and an island?"
"Oh, yes. Well let's go to the castle first then. We've got the dwarves in right now, redoing the foundation and the cladding and a couple dozen wizards repairing the wood within."
Followed by the seven Angels of Barthe, Sirius led them out to an intercom style device at the end of the drive. He punched in 7799663. "It'll be here soon.
"So how do you all differentiate if you all use the name Angel?"
"Angel A through Angel G," the red-headed Angel said.
"You're really all named Angel?" he asked, still shocked.
There were chuckles as Angel D, the platinum blonde, said, "Those are our real names. Or variants of. Mine was actually Joanna de Angeliano. Theirs are all given names."
Sirius looked them over. Angel A was a brunette with green eyes, Angel B had black eyes and dirty-blonde hair, Angel C had mousy brown hair and matching eyes with green flecks, and Angel E had copper colored hair. Their skin was all close to the same tone, what Sirius had heard called Olive, he thought.
Before he could say anything else, a black Aero City bus with neon lights and loud music playing shuddered to a stop. "We have seven of these buses for transporting our muggle and magical staff to the castle. For now, it's location is classified: it's hidden by the fidelius charm."
Aboard the bus, three women in go-go cages and skimpy lingerie were dancing to the music. All muggleborns who had finished fifth year but hadn't done well enough to continue into sixth. They could use magic but weren't very good. Dancers on a bus that was rarely used paid much better than waitress in a pub and being pawed.
Sirius loudly said, "Uh, this is my personal transport, the staff ones aren't like this."
They laughed.
~•~
In the castle, Sirius showed them the security offices first, the former barracks for the castle's soldiers in the inner North walls that separated the inner courtyard from the outer courtyard where the 'townspeople' had lived before the separation of muggles and magicals. The other five sections of the inner wall were used for storage, an armory, the stables, and a number of buildings for craftsmen necessary to the castle back then. The outer courtyard had surprisingly spacious living areas for nearly a hundred thousand people that were being disassembled to be turned into multi-tiered gardens and livestock paddocks to feed the new denizens.
"I've never heard of this castle before," one of the wizards said.
"It was abandoned. No one knows why exactly. The family that owns it couldn't afford to rebuild it and no one wanted to buy it since it was so expensive, required so much work, and has massive back taxes on it that we were able to avoid due to the branch that will be paying you."
"Oh?" Angel A asked.
"We have a remit from the ICM to form a worldwide surveillance and espionage organization, making use of technology and magic combined." And significant loopholes to abuse.
They all turned to look at him as Remus's voice came around the corner. "Sirius?"
As soon as he came around, Sirius introduced the Angels to Remus.
Neville walked into the greenhouse and looked at the seedlings growing. They were the ones his grandmother had ordered for him. As he checked the soil moisture, Professor Green came in and looked around. "They're doing well, Mr. Longbottom. How's the spellwork for the product going?"
"Hermione and Sophie said they should finish researching all the spells by February. Harry's almost done with the fabrics, and Ron's almost done learning how to do the enchantment bases, professor."
"The Septarines are blooming in Greenhouse seven. You should pick seven to send your grandmother."
Neville nodded. "How'd you know my grandmother liked those?"
"All women like them. They mean your elegance is magical. You should always add at least one to a bouquet but three or seven are better."
~•~
As Neville was mailing off the seven he had picked, Harry walked into the owlery and a whispering white death flew past Neville and settled on Harry's shoulder. "Gah!"
"Hedwig, stop that!" Harry told her. "Sorry, she really likes scaring people."
"It's okay. Who're you sending a letter to?"
Harry affixed Hedwig's harness and put the letters in. "Tonks and Licorice. Wait for Tonks's reply, please."
Once she was on her way, the two walked back to the dorms. "How long until the plants are done? Do you need help?"
"Professor Green is helping with taking care of them. Gran said he wrote her and said he was really impressed with me."
"He should be," Harry said at the Keeper's prompting. "You're really good at that stuff. I bet you'd be a great apprentice to professor Sprout when we finish at Hogwarts then a professor when she retires."
"Really?!"
"Yeah. You're good at theory, Hermione said. And great at herbology."
"I'm going to the potions club," Neville said after a bit of thought. "Coming?"
"Not today. Practice with the team."
They split off and Harry headed back to get his uniform and broom as Neville went to Potions club. Older students ran the class so that each club meeting did two potions per meeting per year level; the first the potion for that week, the second the potion for the next week with a quiz on potion ingredient reactions.
As Neville walked in, Hermione waved him over to join her and Dean.
~•~
Harry was running around the pitch, getting sweaty and out of breath along with the twins.
When he dropped, they kept going, only slowing enough to make sure he was actually okay before they continued until they dropped.
Oliver soon had them up in the air, flying swoop drills on a large dog he had transfigured from a rock.
The dog would do a backward flip every time they missed grabbing the hoop it held in its mouth until Harry grabbed it on his sixth dive and the dog was transformed back into a rock.
"Well done!" Oliver said then retransfigured the rock into a dog as Harry tossed the hoop back at him.
~•~
Hermione and the other five Gryffindors who had gone to the Potions Club meeting were sitting at the Gryffindor table when Harry and the rest of the team came in. She and Neville went to join him where they usually sat, in the spot between where the Prefects sat and where the team sat near the far end from the staff side.
Sophie walked in with the rest of the girls from first year and plopped herself down next to Harry as Ron came in and sat down next to Neville across from the three.
Harry grimaced at this—he hated having Ron sitting across from him at meals—but didn't do anything. Instead, he opened his comic book and read The Transmutation of Ike Garuda until the food appeared on the table.
"What's that about?" Sophie asked.
"A detective looking into a missing transport thi—err, platform."
"What's a detective?" Neville asked as he happily dug into his Lancashire hot pot.
"Independent Auror," Hermione said, even happier to dig into her sushi.
"Oh. They're usually called Private Aurors or Aurors-for-Hire."
Harry poked at his meal, unsure of what it was until Hermione noticed. "It's a cheeseburger pie. I had it last week. It's really good."
As he ate, Harry continued reading until Hermione put her chopsticks on the platter and said, "Oh, Harry, your family motto is 'The World Is Not Enough.' It's also James Bond's."
Harry perked up at that. I'm building a spy agency and have the same family motto as the coolest spy ever, he thought.
Sirius skipped a few steps on exiting the floo then shifted to Padfoot and barreled out of the hospital wing, sliding past groups of students and jumping over one group of first years filling a hall then realized he had Harry's scent and turned around. One of the first years was looking at him, rolling his vivid green eyes at the dog's antics.
"Is that Hagrid's dog?" a Hufflepuff asked.
"No," Harry said. "He's mine. And he's not supposed to be at the school."
Padfoot leapt on Harry and licked him, making him try to fend the dog off as the children laughed.
Harry finally got him under control and led him to the hospital wing since it was the only place he knew of with a functioning floo for transit.
Hermione and the others followed along.
In the wing, Sirius changed back and grinned at the slobber covered Harry. "You could use a comb."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "You will rue this day. You hear me? Rue. Well? Go on, start ruing! You rued bastard!"
Sophie giggled as she entered the room.
"You're an animagus?" Neville asked. "That's so cool!"
"What's an animagus?" Hermione asked.
"Wizards who can turn into animals," Ron said. "They're really rare."
"Not that rare," Sirius said. "But so many people realize their form is useless so they just never register or use it. A girl in our year was a sloth. Why become a sloth unless you think your life is too hectic?"
That made Hermione giggle then she explained what a sloth was, moving slowly, making the rest of the first years in the group laugh.
"And my grandfather was a cow. Not even a bull but a cow. He was humiliated when it got out," Sirius finished. "Anyway, I came to talk to Charlus but I decided to see you too."
"Why've you got my dagger?" Harry asked, realizing the bollocks hilt was protruding from his grandfather's belt. "How'd you get in my safe?"
"You're really gonna ask me how I got into a safe?" He smirked. "Anyway, this is what I needed to talk to Charlus about. Now, run along. I'll see you in a week or so."
~•~
As they walked away, Neville asked, "Umm, did that dagger look like what I thought it looked like?"
Harry nodded. "They're supposed to, well, to look like, errm," he paused, looking at the two girls who had smirks on their faces as they looked at him expectantly.
"Well?" Sophie asked.
"It'ssupposedtolooklikebollocks," he said fast, his face red.
The girls both exploded into giggles, more at his expression than at the word.
~•~
Charlus looked up from the book he was reading and said, "Quill command, pause."
Sirius set the dagger on the table then put his father's diary on the table.
The ghost read it slowly.
"Fascinating," he said when he finished reading it. "Have you tested it?"
"Yes. Madame Rosmerta has no interest in me but her new barwitch deepthroated me."
"Deepthroated?"
Sirius explained using hand gestures and his own open mouth.
"You seem to have some skill at that," Charlus said drily.
Sirius gave him two fingers. "So, should I tell Harry?"
"No. Well, yes, actually, but when he's seveteen, not now. Attempting to have sex is a time-honored tradition of youth. I never got to ask James who he finally bedded first."
"Jilana, a recent graduate in between our fourth and fifth." There was still a hint of jealousy in his voice.
"Good for him," Charlus said,
I wonder how we never knew of this. Or maybe we did but it didn't get passed on," he said thoughtfully, stroking his beard. "I'll have the darklings check the family archives—" Harry had assigned a dozen to study the family library of journals and copy anything of potential interest and make an index of everything else then present it to his grandfather "—and we'll see if it's mentioned there."
"It's always amusing," Sirius said. "'I shall maintain this journal for my future children will need this information.' And then no one ever reads the family journals."
Charlus chuckled. "Yeah, historians make more use of family journals than family members ever do."
"Okay, I'll put Harry's dagger back then I have a date with a vicious trollop."
Charlus raised an eyebrow. "A troll?"
"Trollop. You know, a slut. The barmaid? That was her nickname at school. She could fight and fuck like no one else."
"Ahh, well stick to the shagging," he said, dismissing Sirius and turning back to his research.
Sirius tossed some floo powder into the fireplace as he said "Rosmerta's Public House."
~•~
"So are you going to learn to be an animagus?" Sophie asked. "Because I want to."
Harry nodded. "But it's not ultra-important so I'm not working on it now."
"What's not important?" Hermione asked as she approached with a stack of books.
Harry raised an eyebrow as he looked at the titles. All about animagi. "That," he said, pointing at the stack.
"I just wanted to learn more about animagi," she said defensively.
"I meant that was what we were talking about. Animagi."
"Oh."
"Are you going to try to be one?" Sophie asked Hermione.
"Maybe. It depends on what I learn from here," she said. "You?"
"Definitely. I want to be a Dove," she replied. "You?"
"She'll be a honey badger," Harry said.
"Why a honey badger?" Hermione asked.
"Dunno, just seemed you."
Hermione wasn't sure if she should feel insulted or honored so she set to reading and making notes instead.
After two hour's of research—which Harry spent working on his homework he missed doing in group due to quidditch practice and Sophie spent writing in her notebook—Hermione had learned there were three methods of focusing the animagus spell on a person. The way Professor McGonagall had done it she assumed—from her explanation in class after demonstrating it—which was months and potentially years of meditation. The second way also required meditation but it was combined with various potions that let one see their form then they were transfigured by someone else into their form over and over until the form was second nature to the person. The third excluded the mediation and constant transfigurations, instead the person was covered in spells via tattoos that forced the body into its form at a mental command until it became second nature.
Hermione used a light pink ink to make a line through the second and third way of doing it. She didn't want her body covered with tattoos or to have someone constantly cast a transfiguration spell on her.
"Which way did your dad and Sirius do it?" she finally asked.
"Tattoos for him and Sirius, transfiguration for the traitor."
"Oh," she muttered. "I was hoping one of them did it via the first method."
"Meditation? Sirius said that's how professor McGonagall did it. You could ask her. And there she is," he said, pointing at the professor as she walked into the library.
Their Head of House walked over to a table near them and spoke softly with the students at it. Two got up and left as Hermione raised her arm, thinking she was done speaking.
McGonagall noticed the arm and made her way over.
"Professor, did you do the meditation for the animagus transformation?"
"Yes. It's the only way I suggest because the other two ways have drawbacks. Though I know Sirius and James did the third way, I do not suggest it for one small mistake in the tattoo process, you could end up stuck somewhere in between." She drew in a breath, looking away from them. "In fact, a good friend did such. She died soon after when she was stuck partially as a fish and partially human. Fish use gills instead of lungs. She suffocated because she still had a mouth but had no lungs to draw air into."
Hermione and Sophie both blanched at the mental image.
"But this is something I will help you with if you are able to maintain an O average in Transfiguration and make it into my NEWT class."
"What about just meditating to find out if I have a form?"
"It may take you five years to get to that point," she told her. "I am considered a prodigy, like Mr. Potter's father was and it still too me six years of meditation and hard work to get to that point."
Hermione nodded.
She told them to have a good day then left.
Harry hesitated then said, "I think Remus or Sirius could tell you how to do the meditation." It wasn't in the books available to first years. "Sirius had me studying the meditation form because he and Remus aren't as good at transfiguration as my dad was and they said I shouldn't ink up like Sirius did."
"So you could show me then?" Hermione asked.
"No. I mean, I could, but it wouldn't be right. Ummm, I mean, safe."
Hermione made a mental note to ask Harry's godfather.