Harry spent a few weeks at home to recharge the protections, but with the return of Voldemort, he wanted to be with someone who understood. Sirius, still confined to his Fidelius-warded house, was only too glad to have him over. With no pressing matters and considering that Harry's life would be fraught with danger from now on, his godfather brought up the topic of the Animagus transformation.
"There are two ways of becoming an Animagus: the slow and safe, or the fast and easy one. Your father and I used the latter, as goes without saying. The first method takes years of study, so it is only suited for you Ravenclaw bookworms." Sirius grinned at the dirty look Harry sent him. "If you go down that route, you have to choose an animal you identify with the most, and learn everything there is to know about it: anatomy, diet, habits, you name it. Then you gradually build a model in your mind, until you can call on it and transform."
"I get to pick what I'll turn into? Brilliant!" Harry was already deliberating on which of the big cats was the most badass.
Sirius nodded. "It sure is, but your model has to be impeccable—and that takes getting into the animal's mindset, learning to see the world from its perspective. I once knew a bloke who wanted to become a lion, so he spent a year living in the African savanna."
"Did he make it?"
"Nah, poor sod got bitten in the arse by a Runespoor and died."
Harry shook his head ruefully. "What a way to go. I guess that explains why there are so few Animagi."
"Oh, I wouldn't be surprised if there were a lot more than the Ministry records say." Sirius smirked. "I mean, us Marauders were geniuses, but we can't be the only ones to have invented a shortcut."
Harry waited for him to continue, but his godfather just sat there with a faraway look on his face. "A shortcut?" he prompted.
"A hallucinogenic brew of, shall we say, questionable legality. Animagus Express, James used to call it. Take a good swig, go on a spirit journey to discover your animal, and voilà." Sirius smacked his palm on the table for emphasis. "Then you just meditate in your own time until you embrace it as a part of yourself. Shouldn't take more than a couple weeks, given how eager you are."
Harry rubbed his chin. "What's the catch?"
"No conscious control over what animal you get, first and foremost. Also, your instincts take over the first few times you transform, so you can't change back by yourself. No worries, though—I could cast the reversal spell with my eyes closed."
A more than acceptable trade-off for not having to spend a year outdoors. "You're positive I'll have a form, then?"
"Of course, Harry." Sirius's face darkened. "Even that pile of Hippogriff dung Pettigrew had one, so you certainly will."
He searched for something to get his godfather's mind off the traitor. "Can I invite some friends from school?"
"As long as you trust them," Sirius said, nodding. "I was thinking of letting the Weasley twins in on this myself. They've been pestering me to teach them something good ever since they learned I was Padfoot, and this way you can help each other out once you're back at Hogwarts."
Harry grinned. "I'll write everyone and see who can make it."
The five of them sat on the pillow-covered floor of the Grimmauld Place's basement, arranged in a circle around a cauldron of turbid liquid which looked more like a decoction than a proper potion. Everybody was wearing pajamas or sweats, prepared to crash when the magic kicked in.
Hermione looked around uneasily. "Couldn't I get my own room, Mr. Black?"
This prompted a round of teasing from the twins, who quieted down after Sirius glared at them from the antique rocker he was reclining on.
"It's just Sirius—and I'd rather keep you all in one place so I can see if something goes wrong."
Hermione looked up in alarm. "Wrong how?"
"Well, I'm not a certified Potions Master, and this isn't exactly legal. Don't worry, though—back in the day, we tried this brew several times until we perfected the recipe, and we were fine. Nothing a bezoar and a Vanishing Charm couldn't fix." He gave the pale girl a reassuring smile and patted his pocket, rattling the stones inside.
The Weasleys looked at each other and shrugged.
"Worked for the Marauders, didn't it?" Fred asked rhetorically. He grasped the ladle and took several huge gulps, then backed away. "Hmm... tastes a bit like Mr. Lovegood's herbal tea."
"I call next!" George edged closer to the cauldron and repeated Fred's actions. The two amused their rapt audience by making faces at each other until their eyes suddenly rolled up and they collapsed on the pillows in a heap.
Sirius whistled. "Looks like it's a tad strong. You lightweights don't take more than two mouthfuls."
Tony was next, releasing a mighty burp after downing the foul liquid. Wrinkling his nose, Harry imbibed his share before scooting away and lying down. He watched Hermione rotate the ladle to drink from a spot the others' lips hadn't touched until he was overtaken by dizziness and drifted off.
He was in a giant room, a humongous fuzzy shape looming ahead. There was something very wrong with him: he had no arms, but instead possessed new body parts he couldn't even name due to sheer confusion. He attempted to move and his too-many legs carried him forward, beating an unfamiliar rhythm against the floor.
The shape resolved into a massive square, which lit up with cold blue light at his approach. A disembodied male voice began speaking. "This creature is remarkably resilient and adaptive, and is found in most parts of the world. It can eat just about anything, but will survive for an entire month without food."
That... that sounded like one of those nature documentaries he'd sometimes watch at the Dursleys. Was he back in the living room of number four, Privet Drive?
His head swam as he tried to look around. Despite having trouble bending his neck, he could somehow see in front, above, and even behind himself in a baffling, mosaic-like view. The image from the enormous TV was too blurred to discern, but he discovered that his own body was flat and sleek, and he had two flexible feelers swaying above his head.
"With the ability to squeeze through gaps a quarter of its body height and withstand forces more than nine hundred times its weight, it has a well-deserved reputation of being one of the hardiest insects on the planet," the narrator continued. "I am talking, of course, of the much-maligned cockroach."
Harry screamed, but no sound left his mouth.
He sat up with a gasp, and Sirius dropped a magazine he'd been reading to hasten towards him. The sun was already down, and the gas lamps filled the basement with their warm, cozy glow. Harry's partners in crime were still tossing and turning in their enchanted sleep.
"Alright, Harry?" Sirius asked, helping him up. "How did it go?"
"I..." He licked his parched lips and coughed. His clothes clung to his sweaty skin, giving him a plausible excuse. "I need a shower."
His godfather grinned. "Stoking the suspense, huh? Go on, then."
He climbed the stairs to the ground floor on unsteady legs and shut the door behind him before slumping against it. His form sucked. No, a bloody guinea pig would have sucked—his was utter shite! The facts about the insect's resilience the dream had pulled from his memories were almost impressive, but no matter the potential utility, there was no way he was transforming into that.
Shivering from a chill, he headed to the bathroom where he would be free to freak out in privacy.
The prospective Animagi gathered in the kitchen for hot tea and snacks, looking worn out yet elated. The last to join them was Tony, whom Sirius had to help to his chair. The boy appeared pallid and sickly, but one glance at his satisfied expression told Harry enough. He looked away, staring sullenly at the wall as he gnawed on a Pumpkin Pasty. The palpable merriment in the air was making him even more wretched.
Sirius sat down at the head of the table and rubbed his hands. "About time we started—what did everyone get?"
As if on cue, the twins smiled simultaneously. "Our forms are identical!"
Tony chuckled. "There's a surprise."
"What kind of animal?" Sirius asked eagerly.
"Not sure what it is, but it's great," Fred enthused. "Small, swift, nimble—I could climb everywhere. Not the best eyesight, though."
"I caught my reflection in a pond—the little rascal had a brown coat, with a bandit mask across the eyes," George added. "I'd have preferred something larger, but this is still brilliant."
"Sounds like a polecat to me," Harry said, remembering an eventful trip to the zoo.
Hermione nodded. "Mustelidae, or the weasel family. How fitting."
Sirius and Tony laughed, drowning out the twins' indignant cries, and even Harry cracked a smile.
"Magic loves symbolism," the oldest Animagus explained. "Your form could be related to your disposition, lifestyle, or something else that makes you unique. It's not always immediately obvious." His smile disappeared and his eyes grew distant.
Harry sighed. Was his form what it was because of his knack for survival? If so, he'd have preferred a tardigrade—at least he would be too small for anyone to see.
Sirius clapped his hands. "Who's next?"
After some deliberation, Hermione revealed that she was an otter. Harry thought the semi-aquatic form utterly impractical, but the girl seemed pleased, saying that she enjoyed swimming a lot. She had to endure some ribbing from the others when they realized that otters belonged to the weasel family as well.
They were in for quite a surprise when a fidgeting Tony divulged that his animal was a gorilla. It was the most powerful form yet, and the bewildered group had a hard time reconciling the image of the skinny Ravenclaw with that of the freakishly strong beast. They searched for a connection for a couple of minutes before giving up.
Tony wagged his eyebrows. "Maybe it's because I'm naturally gifted, if you know what I mean."
"A gorilla's penis is about four centimeters long," Hermione said flatly.
"How do you even know that?" Tony demanded over roaring laughter.
"Teenagers," Sirius said in a tone that implied he was a mature adult. "What about you, Harry? I've been looking forward to this for months. Following in your father's footsteps—he'd be so proud."
Harry gulped when everybody's attention focused on him. "Um... I'm not really sure."
"Come on," Sirius said. "Whatever it is, it can't be worse than a rat!"
He grimaced, trying to put his thoughts in order. How could he tell them? "The thing is... I don't remember seeing much of anything. Only some odd geometric patterns and stuff."
Sirius gaped. "Blimey, really? I've heard it was possible to not be compatible with any animal, but that's supposed to be very rare."
"Could he have forgotten what he dreamed of?" Hermione asked curiously.
The host shook his head. "You don't forget your animal—it quite literally becomes a part of you. Tough luck there, Harry, but don't worry. It's just not your thing, I guess."
Harry hated hearing the disappointment in his godfather's voice.
"Yeah, don't brood over it, mate," Tony added cheerfully and clapped him on the back. "Not everyone can be as awesome as me."
"Gorilla dick," Harry said under his breath.
"What brings you to my office so early in the year?" Flitwick asked from behind a desk sized for his diminutive stature.
The glint in the professor's eyes told him he knew the reason already, but Harry nevertheless held up a silver badge. "I found this in my mail, and I think there's been a mistake."
Flitwick steepled his fingers. "Why do you think that?"
He frowned. "Going by grades, Terry would be the obvious choice—not to mention, I haven't exactly been a model student, have I?"
"Your grades are more than sufficient, I assure you." The Head of House leaned forward and fixed him with a stare. "Tell me the real reason, Harry. You just think it's too much of a hassle, don't you?"
He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Right in one, sir."
Flitwick's mustache twitched in amusement. "Only putting effort into pursuits that engross you is a very Ravenclaw trait. Alas, how I wish my students had a titch more Hufflepuff in them." He reclined on his chair and stretched. "Very well. You're interested in dueling, are you not? I'm willing to give you some pointers over the next few months. Not to toot my own horn, but I've won my fair share of championships back in the day."
Harry nodded slowly. Professor Flitwick's exploits were the stuff of legend among his housemates. "Sounds great, professor, but why go this far? Others would jump at the chance to make prefect."
"I've had my eye on you since you stood up for Miss Lovegood in your third year. She seems a lot happier since you took her under your wing." He smiled at Harry's obvious discomfort. "There are other reasons too. With the Ministry's propaganda following the Tournament, the headmaster and I wanted to send a message that Hogwarts stands with you."
Nothing like that had even occurred to Harry. "I suppose I'll take it, then. Thanks, sir." He pinned the badge on the lapel of his robes. "Come to think of it, don't prefects get to tinker with the tower's guardian?"
Flitwick raised his eyebrows. "They can change the password, yes."
He grinned. "I had bigger modifications in mind. Maybe this won't be so bad after all."
Harry changed his mind a scant two hours later, after the Sorting Feast ended and it was time to herd the new students into their dormitories. The sprogs were all prattling among themselves and not paying him any attention however many times he cleared his throat. He could swear he hadn't been so disrespectful back in his first year.
"Er," he tried again, "first years, over here!"
The kids closer to him stood expectantly, but a gaggle of girls farther down the table were still deep in conversation. He sighed and stepped forward, but was stopped by his fellow prefect placing her hand on his arm.
"First-year Ravenclaws, line up in pairs," Su said in a voice that was barely louder than her usual.
Everyone shot to their feet and scrambled to pair up with someone they knew, leaving the slower children glancing at each other bashfully. The noise quickly died down under Su's gaze, and she nodded in satisfaction.
"Follow me."
Harry goggled as the orderly line went past, the kids scarcely giving him a second glance. He rushed to catch up with his partner.
"Su, wait up! How did you do that?"
Over the next few weeks, Harry grew used to the privileges and responsibilities of his new status. Once this year's batch of students no longer required handholding to find their classes (recalling his own first year, he was almost sympathetic), he diverted his attention to a pet project that he'd acquired Flitwick's approval for.
"Are you finally going to explain why you dragged me here?" Hermione grouched as he ushered her towards the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room.
Stopping a few paces away, Harry gestured at the elaborate wooden door. "I made major security improvements, but I need somebody from outside the house to test them. Somebody really smart, like you." He tried to keep a straight face.
She gave him a suspicious glance but stepped forward. The eagle-shaped door knocker came alive, asking, "The more you have of it, the less you see. What is it?"
"A riddle, huh?" Hermione furrowed her brows before smiling and exclaiming, "Darkness!"
"Wrong," the knocker replied.
She worried her lip. "Nothing else comes to mind... What's the answer?"
"Did you really think I would tell you, darling?" the guardian said snidely. "Not very bright, are you?"
One look at Hermione's indignant expression, and Harry couldn't hold in his laughter. She slapped him on the shoulder.
"You tell me, then!"
Harry stepped up. "The answer is 'cataracts'."
"Correct." The door swung open.
Hermione gaped at him. "That's just stupid."
"It's rather ingenious, actually. Su and I keyed in every Ravenclaw as they were leaving for class, so the door will open for them automagically, as it will for the staff." Harry pulled the door shut. "Only outsiders and mixed groups will be challenged. Umbridge too, for that matter—it slipped our minds to key her in."
"Does that mean anybody who solves the riddle can get inside?" Hermione asked. "That doesn't seem secure at all."
"Oh no, that's the beauty of it. No one outside Ravenclaw should be able to solve it if we got the spellwork right." Harry smirked and stepped aside. "Care to give it another go?"
He expected that someone who prided herself on her intellect wouldn't be able to resist the challenge, and sure enough, Hermione proved him right by marching up to the door again.
The eyes of the bronze eagle shifted towards her. "I am lighter than a feather, but even the strongest man cannot hold me for long. What am I?"
Hermione took her time, pacing in front of the entrance as she pondered the question. "Breath," she said after a while. "I'm pretty certain of it."
"Not even close, sweetheart," the tower guardian said.
"Ugh, does it have to be so patronizing?" Hermione whirled on Harry. "I bet you can't answer this one either!"
Harry contemplated the riddle. Truth be told, it didn't matter what his guess was since the knocker would accept almost any answer as long as it came from a Ravenclaw. "Snow... a snowflake. It would melt in your palm."
"Well reasoned." The door creaked open.
"This thing is rigged!" Hermione said, incensed.
He grinned. "That's the idea."
Harry surveyed the row of students all in various stages of producing the Patronus Charm. He'd been worried when they were forced to seal the Roost after Umbridge rejected their club's application, but the new location—the nigh-miraculous Room of Requirement—proved to be a boon, providing ample space for spell practice at a moment's request. The only issue was Hermione roping him into tutoring their fellow fifth-years.
"Watch your wand movement," he said as he walked past a nameless Gryffindor. The boy grunted and resumed waving his wand like Aunt Marge would the nearest piece of cutlery during one of her tirades. Harry shook his head and moved on. "Looks like you're almost there, Michael—maybe try a different memory?"
A Hufflepuff girl who constantly chewed gum raised her hand. "Can you, like, show me the spell one more time? I dunno if I'm doing it right."
He resisted the urge to sigh. "Sure, Megan."
She gave him a toothy grin. "Call me Meg."
Harry's spirits lifted slightly. It was almost worth demonstrating the Patronus for the fourth time in twenty minutes. How did their professors deal with this every day without going insane?
Taking a deep breath, he found his happy place and said, "Expecto Patronum!"
A great silvery octopus burst from his wand and glided through the air as people paused to stare in admiration—and, in case of the witches, apprehension. Then it promptly sailed towards Padma and started pawing at her hair with its appendages.
"Ugh," she said, her hands passing through the translucent shape as she tried fruitlessly to push it away. "Get your creepy tentacle thing off me!"
"Not again," Harry muttered.
He jabbed his wand at the amorous octopus and pulled it off Padma, but as soon as he relinquished his control, it floated towards its next target. Su stoically endured her hair being ruffled, and Harry decided to leave the Patronus alone until it faded. There was no counter-charm, after all.
"It can't be a coincidence that thing only goes for us girls," Padma said, crossing her arms.
"I can't help it!" he whined. "It does that on its own."
"A likely story," she scoffed.
Harry threw his arms up in frustration and stormed off. He spent a couple more minutes correcting the most obvious mistakes before clapping his hands.
"Great job, everybody," he said loudly. "Practice calling up a happy memory on command. Next meeting is on Friday, same time."
There were a few disappointed groans as people started filtering out of the Room, some pausing to shake Harry's hand. When it was only the usual suspects left, he sighed in relief.
Tony clapped him on the back. "That wasn't so bad."
"You aren't the one who has to teach a bunch of..." He caught himself before he could say 'dunderheads'; god forbid he started empathizing with Snape. "People from houses where intelligence is considered an afterthought."
"Well, I think what you're doing is admirable," Hermione said. Her smile faded when Harry scowled at her.
"We have time until curfew," Padma said. "How about showing us what Flitwick's been teaching you?"
Those words captured everyone's attention. There were no Ravenclaws who didn't know about the Charms professor's prowess on the dueling platform, whereas Hermione was just happy to get her mitts on any knowledge she could.
"I don't know," he drawled, fighting back a smile. "Seems like a lot of work."
Padma batted her eyelashes at him. "Please, Harry? I'm sorry I said your eldritch monstrosity was creepy."
He snorted. "That's the most of an apology I've ever gotten from you. Didn't know you cared for dueling that much."
"I don't, really," she said. "But after what happened last year... it won't hurt to be prepared."
That had the effect of sobering them up. The Room remained quiet until Harry cleared his throat.
"Right, then. The first thing I learned is so simple I was surprised they don't teach it in class... Although, given the Crabbes and Goyles of the world, I really shouldn't be." He held up his wand. "Does everyone remember the Incarcerous gesture?"
"A circle and a jab," Hermione supplied.
The tip of his wand traced the shape in a slow, exaggerated manner, then did it again, this time reducing the circle by half. "The trick is to make the circular part smaller in diameter, which lets you cast faster and telegraph less to your opponents. Flitwick used Incarcerous because it's perfect for a demonstration, but this should work on other spells with a somatic component just as well."
Tony scratched his head with his wand. "That's it?"
He nodded. "It's more difficult than you might think. The jab has to go precisely through the center, and the circle itself has to be smooth. When your gestures are so compact..." He slid the butt of his wand towards his fingertips for better control and went through the motion as fast as he could. "Incarcerous!"
There was a whistling noise and a whiff of hot wax, but no ropes appeared.
"There's less room for error," Hermione said thoughtfully. "The spell will fizzle out if your hand so much as twitches."
"Exactly," Harry said, pleased with how quickly she caught on. "Shall we practice for a bit?"
Su and Hermione were already attempting to cast the spell on an alarmed-looking Tony, so Harry paired up with Padma. Her circle came out lopsided on her first try, and the conjured cords smacked into Harry's chest and fell to the ground. She frowned and tried again, this time trapping him successfully.
"You're getting the hang of it," he said after she freed him, "but you can make the motion much smaller, look—Incarcerous!"
Black ropes shot out of his wand and flew towards Padma, enveloping her torso in a turtle-shell pattern and tying her hands behind her back. Harry goggled, slowly lowering his wand.
She looked down, squirming a little. "That's an odd way of tying someone up. Feels very secure, though."
Harry glanced at his wand, then back at the tightly bound girl. The loose Hogwarts robes were stretched taut on her figure, accentuating her curves, and her long skirt was bunched up by the rope wedged between her thighs. He gulped. "I—I didn't mean to!"
Padma frowned. "What are you talking about?"
It was too much to hope that the spectacle would go unnoticed. Hermione and Tony were content to gawk from the sidelines, but Su approached, looking Padma over curiously.
"Shibari," she said. "It's a type of erotic bondage."
"What?" Padma fixed Harry with a murderous glare, her face growing redder by the second. "I swear to Nimue, Potter, if you don't let me go right now..."
He made a pacifying gesture. "I will, I will—just don't start throwing curses, alright? It was an accident!"
Su tugged on a rope. "It's too masterful to be that. Padma couldn't escape whatever lecherous things you did to her." Her tone was deadpan, but the corners of her lips twitched upwards.
Padma squeaked, her tan skin flushed. "D-don't pull on it! And you, Potter—stop gawking and free me already!"
"Er, right." Harry wiped the goofy grin off his face and raised his wand. "Finite Incantatem."
Padma went for her own wand as soon as she was unbound, and Harry jumped back, lifting his hands defensively.
"I told you it wasn't on purpose!"
"As if I'd believe that! Your Patronus and now this—all just a fluke!"
"Do me," Su said quietly. She averted her eyes, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "As an experiment."
Harry didn't need to be asked twice. "Incarcerous!"
Su let out a soft eep but remained still as conjured ropes tied up her petite form in the same hexagonal pattern. Harry burned the image of her restrained body into his mind until Padma ended his fun by canceling the spell.
"How are you doing this?" she asked, tapping her foot. "Such a spell variant doesn't even exist!"
"It sort of... happens by itself?" he offered.
Padma furrowed her brows, pacing and muttering under her breath. Halting, she glanced first at Su, then at Tony.
Hermione gasped. "Of course—we should check all the variables."
"Oh no," Tony said, looking green around the gills. "Absolutely not."
"Get him, and I might forgive you," Padma said with a sinister smile.
Shrugging, Harry targeted his best mate and pronounced, "Incarcerous!"
Tony tried to dodge at the last moment, but Harry's aim was true. Both guys breathed a sigh of relief when he was trussed up around the waist in a wholly mundane manner.
Padma massaged her temples. "I don't understand. It's like your magic itself is perverted."
"What a mystery," Harry said with a poker face. It seemed his wand's core affected his spells more than he'd expected.
Harry just about stuffed a whole fist into his mouth in an attempt to suppress laughter at Tony's joke, but that wasn't enough to escape Snape's notice.
"I suppose expecting the clown duo to stay quiet during lessons is too much," the Potions professor drawled, walking up to their desk and tapping it with a yellowing fingernail. "Potter, switch with Zabini. Do not drag your new partner down."
Harry glanced towards where the Slytherins were seated and repressed a wince. Zabini's partner was Crabbe, the worst brewer in the class, who was only good at tasks involving crushing and grinding.
Snape lingered for a moment as though expecting him to object, but Harry knew better than that. He gathered up his belongings and rose.
"Good luck," Zabini whispered as they met halfway.
Harry snorted. He set down his bag and seated himself at the desk next to Crabbe, who sneered at him in a typical Slytherin welcome.
"Let's do our best, Mr. Crabbe," Harry said with a nod.
The boy scowled and looked away, and he grinned. Snape's attempts to get him to lose his cool had been growing more inventive lately. Little did the professor know that Harry had a secret weapon. He patted his pocket where several glass vials jingled merrily, and his smile grew wider.
He left the classroom whistling a tune. Their potion turned out nearly textbook-perfect, and even Snape found little to criticize. Crabbe had actually looked at him with something akin to awe towards the end of the brewing process—not that it took much to impress that bloke.
Leaving the throng of students behind, he ducked into an unused corridor and looked around before reaching into his pocket. Still humming a tune, he pulled out a handful of vials and took a measured gulp of a milky liquid, followed by two of an aquamarine one.
Immediately, his head cleared and his mind acquired a laser-sharp focus. He carefully pocketed the potions and looked up, momentarily mesmerized by the stone wall. He could trace every grain, pinpoint every imperfection, and could even tell which blocks were hewn from the same rock...
"Are you still taking that stuff?"
Harry whirled around, then relaxed when he recognized his best friend. "Don't scare me like that—and yeah, I am." He stepped back into the corridor which would take them to their next lesson. "In fact, I'm taking better stuff."
Tony frowned. "Better how?"
"Michael's cousin's potion did work, but it made me too impulsive. I added something to counteract that to the stack, as well as a memory booster, and it's been brilliant. My grades have never been higher, and nothing Snape says even fazes me anymore." Tony still looked unconvinced, and Harry was getting impatient. "Mate, it's like living with cheat codes on!"
"I hope you know what you're doing," Tony said.
He rolled his eyes. "Stop worrying so much. This stuff works on pure magic, so it's not like I can get addicted or anything."
He'd checked, of course—he wasn't stupid. While the potions were rather pricey and banned during exams, they worked so well he had to wonder why everyone wasn't using them.
Two polecats cavorted in the vast empty space created by the Room of Requirement. The Weasley twins had taken to their new ability like ducks to water, and while Tony and Hermione were still unable to transform, Harry had no doubt they'd get there eventually.
Hermione in particular took issue with the twins accomplishing the feat before her and was diligently attempting to make the breakthrough herself. She sat cross-legged a small distance away, her eyes shut in concentration.
Harry was only there to cast the reversal spell should things go awry, but it looked like even that would be unnecessary. He leaned back against the wall and sighed. Become an Animagus, Harry. It will be awesome, Harry. Why did he have to listen to his godfather?
He was startled out of his despondency by Hermione banging on the padded floor with her fists. "This is so frustrating! I don't know what I'm doing wrong."
"You'll figure it out," he said mechanically.
The Weasleys bounded up to her and popped back into human forms, their change swift and fluent.
"You have to embrace your inner animal, Hermione," one said.
"Rawr!" the other added. They both transformed again, circled the giggling girl, and ran off.
"I never thought about it before, but how come the clothes transform along with one's body?" Harry asked, idly twirling his Horntail scale pendant. His mind weighed seeing Hermione in the nude against getting an eyeful of two naked gingers and decided it was probably for the best if everybody stayed dressed.
"It has to do with familiarity. Your wand and clothes are items you feel a certain attachment to—they're almost a part of your identity." Hermione glanced down at her robes, then back at him. "Just so you know, I wear these every day, so don't expect me to leave them behind."
Harry snorted at how easily she'd read him. "Lamentable, to be sure. But where does this stuff go?"
Hermione perked up. "Oh, that's such a fascinating topic! I've read just about every book in the library that discusses the transformation, and it's only recently that the wizards took the effort to really research it. The leading theory is that we Animagi possess a personal dimensional pocket of sorts. We're both human and animal at the same time, and the extra form gets sort of... stored away."
Harry gaped at her. "You mean your animal is already there, waiting to be called upon?"
Hermione nodded energetically. "Isn't it amazing? They tried to measure the size of the pocket dimension depending on the mass of one's forms, but the arithmantic calculations were above NEWT-level."
Harry groaned, slouching against the wall. The idea that his 'animal' was an indelible part of him soured his mood even further. Hermione kept jabbering, but he wasn't listening anymore.
The twins ran up to him and popped back into their human shapes, out of breath but pleased as punch. "Think we figured it out," said the one he guessed was Fred. "Won't need you watching over us anymore, Harry."
"Yeah. Smashing work, lads," he said without much feeling.
The twins exchanged a glance. "Chin up, Harrykins," probably-George said. "Come with us, we have something that'll raise your spirits."
Scandalized students crowded around a defaced wall in the entrance hall. The crime appeared to be fairly recent, if the wet paint was anything to go by.
Professor McGonagall left the Great Hall and did a double take at the sight, her face paling. She turned and disappeared behind the doors again, coming back a minute later with the headmaster in tow.
Dumbledore parted the mob with his sheer presence. A haunted look crossed his face as he read the graffiti proclaiming that 'Grindelwald did nothing wrong'.
"Who is responsible for this vile act of vandalism?" he asked gravely.
No one dared say a word, cowed by his unusually serious tone. For a few seconds, an uneasy silence reigned. Then...
"Hee hee hee," hysterical laughter echoed from the direction of the dungeons, followed by the slapping of bare feet on stone.
All eyes turned towards the dimly-lit corridor from which the noise originated. The footsteps were getting closer, and the onlookers waited with bated breath.
A stark-naked Harry Potter emerged from the hallway and looked around wildly. His eyes were glazed over behind his spectacles, and he seemed entirely unconcerned about the people ogling his body.
"Fuck the police!" he declared, flipping the crowd his paint-smudged middle finger before sprinting in the direction of the main staircase. Moments later, two red-haired pursuers stomped up from the dungeons and ran after him.
"Stop him!" Fred shouted, sounding rather out of breath.
The gathered gaped at the scene incredulously, not offering any help. A few witches giggled as they eyed Harry's retreating backside.
"That's something you don't see every day," Seamus commented.
"Quite so, Mr. Finnigan." Dumbledore came out of his stupor and turned to address his deputy. "Minerva, please inform Argus that his services are required here, then head for the hospital wing. I am going to capture Mr. Potter and get him some medical attention as soon as possible."
Displaying remarkable spryness for a man his age, Dumbledore caught up with the twins on the sixth floor. Together, they pursued their quarry up to the seventh, where the headmaster finally stopped him with a well-placed Impedimenta.
The trio approached guardedly, the twins spreading out to cover the escape routes. Dumbledore stopped several feet away from Harry, taking in his unfocused eyes and flushed face.
"Are you all right, my boy?" the headmaster called out.
Harry whirled on him. "Get away! If you don't, I won't be able to guarantee the continued existence of this country."
Dumbledore raised his palms, wand held loosely between his fingers. "Harry, please calm down. We only want to help."
Harry took a deep breath and chanted, "Sentinels of the ethereal boundary, scions of the primeval dawn, attend to me. By my mandate, rend asunder the barrier between realms, and grant passage to the One Shrouded in Flames."
The twins exchanged a glance, then took a step back. Dumbledore could hardly blame them; Harry's performance in the first task of the Triwizard Tournament was not something one would forget. Were they about to get an encore?
Harry struck a pose which might have looked impressive had he been clothed. "My desire is destruction without equal, my resolution is imperishable, my oblation is the souls of my foes. The Eternal Warlock compels you, come forth from the abyss, and return all of creation to cinders!"
Dumbledore was torn between letting things play out and stopping the boy before he could hurt someone, yet when Harry adjusted his glasses and they shone with a sinister arcane light, caution won out over curiosity.
He flicked his wand forward. "Stupefy."
