Once again, I apologize for the wait! I had hoped to have this finished before fall semester, but there was so much to be done in so little time that I've been on campus for almost two weeks without getting the chance to write. Don't think I'll be as much of a stranger as last year, though! I intend to update at least as often as I have over the summer (knock on wood). I know that's not much, but it's better than it was.

Looking at the number of this chapter - 25 - I am amazed at what a simple experiment has turned into. I originally planned on ten to fourteen chapters, but it somehow took on a life of its own, and I'm glad of it.

Enjoy the stuff that's not mine!

Of Fears Unknown

Chapter Twenty-Five: Of Purposes Unknown

James had to stand back from the door as Lupin stumbled in, staggering under the weight of several thick volumes. The stack wobbled dangerously, and he caught half of them as they began to fall. "Thank you," panted Remus.

"What are all of these for?" James enquired with raised bows.

"You," came the reply as the rest of the tomes were hefted into his arms, and he buckled momentarily under the sudden weight. "Read all of them by your next moon cycle. Read and understand them."

"But these must be a thousand pages apiece!" he cried in protest.

"Well," Lupin waved it away cheerfully. "I guess you should get started, then." And he left before James could protest further.

He gaped at the closed door for a few moments before his arms began to shake with the effort, and he all but dropped them onto the table with a dusty thud, a small cloud pluming into the ray of morning sunlight filtering through the window. He opened the cover of the topmost volume and his eyes widened in shock. "This is - !" Hagrid came over to see and James swung round to face him. "It's advanced transfiguration! I haven't got any magic - how can I be expected to be able to perform it?"

"Hold on, now, calm down. He said ye had ter understand it. 'E never said anything about doing it."

James' dismay disappeared in an instant. "Hmm. That is true. But I wonder what for. What can he possibly expect me to do with this knowledge?" Neither of them knew the answer.

And so he studied for the next month. He returned to the old Willow, and it seemed to welcome him back, for it did not lash its branches at him when he sat at its roots. As he turned a page a few chapters in, he was suddenly thrown into the disorienting effects of déjà vu. He had been here before, reading spellbooks under the Whomping Willow. The last time he had done so, he had woken up hours later in the Shrieking Shack. What had happened between? The memories still would not come, and with a sigh he went back to his studies.

The Whomping Willow was not the only one who welcomed him back. Chrystafi, who had grown too big to be called little by anyone but Hagrid, had returned to following his surrogate through his day. He must have sorely missed James, for he seemed to cling closer than the man's shadow.

As the reader can imagine, life wasn't all studying spellbooks. James had work to attend to, or he would not get paid. The runespoor required diligent care, the baby chipperphant needed nurturing at the oddest hours, and of course, there was Dobby's boat to craft.

The baby chipperphant, though female, had gained the name Jack and seemed to be coming along rather well. It did not get along with the unicorns at all, and seemed to like using its caretakers as teething rings, but was otherwise very healthy. In just two weeks she had tripled in size. Having grown too large to stay in the hut - she could intimidate Fang into submission, though that was no great feat - and James was tasked with building her an outdoor enclosure that she could not escape from. It was difficult. Being that she was both a climber and a burrower - not to mention her wood-chewing abilities - a simple wooden fence like the ones containing the hippogriffs and unicorn foals would not suffice.

James was glad for the challenge. It kept him busy and thus away from everyone else. He still felt immensely guilty about the way he had acted, and was not entirely sure how to make it up to anyone. This was not his only reason for evading human contact. Upon his most recent flare, James had discovered that his false self had resorted to the tincture the doctor had left instead of taking painkillers, and that his body was rather strangely addicted to it. His subsequent abstinance left him irritable and snappish, and the one thing he didn't need to do after regaining himself was act like a petulant, pathetic brute.

And so he kept busy, hid himself in his work and his studies, and was not seen but every once in a great while.

The moon waxed and was soon full. "All right, James, fight! Fight it!" cried Remus, and to be sure the former-commodore complied. In the burning grip of his transformation, James Norrington fought with every fiber of his being. When at last it came to an end, it was a half-beast that crouched in Lupin's office. "Well done, oh well done! Your countermagic has returned for sure, stong as ever, as far as I can ascertain."

The abomination tipped its head to one side inquisitively. He understood that the countermagic allowed him to be less dangerous, but his colleague seemed to imply that it was significant in more ways than one.

Hearing the unasked question, Lupin explained. "I trust that you have been studying those books I gave you?" The James-creature nodded. "We are going to merge those concepts with your countermagic. We are going to take your ability to fight the change and take it to a whole new level. You will be sent for in two evenings' time. Make sure to stay out of the moonlight."

James nodded his comprehension and took his leave.

(X)

Instead of returning to Hagrid's hut or the Forbidden Forest to wait out the night, Norrington decided he would patrol the corridors. Should danger come, he could fight it off. And should and naughty children be wandering the halls, one look at his nightmarish visage would send them scurrying back to their rightful places. Whatever they saw, or thought they saw, could later be explained as an illusion and blamed on the resident poltergeist. Of course, the one person he met that night was the single exception to all of this.

He heard their footsteps. Smelt their flesh and clean linen. Saw the glow of their wand-light. He stalked closer, hoping to pounce and then flee. Hopefully the child would do the same. But the student turned suddenly, and once more he found himself face to face with Harry Potter. "Mr Norrington?" The boy hadn't looked up yet. He had been staring at an old piece of parchment in his hands. James instantly scooted back into the shadows and fled, unable to fully avoid being seen, berating himself for trying to vary his schedule, and leaving the student gaping after him and looking back at the parchment.

(X)

The next night was not much better, for although he was no longer a half-beast and thus less conspicuous, he was also less unappetizing to the eye. It was for this reason that, taking refuge in Lupin's classroom for the evening, a small pair of hands still managed to close around him and lift him into the air to meet the inquisitive face of a speckled and bespectacled first year who had left his notes. He found himself once again at a dinner table in the Great Hall, though this time among young Ravenclaws. He shrugged to himself, enjoying the food, and made his escape while the magicians argued over the pudding.

Having reached the relative safety of the entrance hall, he sheltered behind a statue and paused to catch his breath. It was getting to be - had long been - a hassle to always have to evade capture. He wasn't sure how trouble was finding him so easily; he suspected his countermagic worked like a magnet and just drew them to him. One thing was certain. It would not be long before he ended up in another child's dormitory - and after the first experience, he wasn't too keen on a repeat. The collar had served its purpose and without it, he was just an enticing, adorably cute pet in apparent desperate need of a home.

He sighed and hoped that whatever Lupin was planning could solve the problem. Why couldn't they have done it tonight, he found himself wondering before he recalled that it was the true full moon and that Lupin had probably transformed. He would have to survive another night.

(X)

It was evening when they came to get him. He had been told to evade the moonlight as much as possible, or else suffer to wait another month. Not wanting to risk more experiences like the night previous - and desperate to please in the hopes that it might make up for his false behaviour - he paid due attention to both sunlight and moonlight, avoiding the well-lit windows of the castle, traversing by its western side early in the day and by the eastern as it grew later.

He skirted the shafts of light shining through the windows as he clipped along to keep pace with Dumbledore's brisk stride. Their conversation was idle. The weather; the state of the creatures; how little Jack was coming along and what she had gnawed to bits this time; neither of importance nor relevance.

He was led to a corridor on the seventh floor and was beginning to wonder if indeed they were going anywhere at all. "A memory is like a raspberry, is it not, Mr Norrington?" James could not conjure an answer. "A body that is an aggregate of smaller bodies, each of which are themselves aggregates of smaller details and elements - the skin, the seed, the flesh, the juice, the flavour. A moment in your mind's eye often contains so much more than a shallow glance back in time will reveal. Let an ill-conceived jibe suffice as an example. The fact that the joke was not well-received is the body of the memory - but what that joke was, who it was aimed at, the progression of its conception, presentation, the silence, and the embarrassment are the smaller bodies aggregate. What conjured the wit, the setting, the audience and their manner of acquaintance, their facial expressions, the length of the silence and its awkwardness, and what thoughts ran through the mind of the rememberer, the realisation of failure, and the paranoia that accompanies embarrassment are the elements comprising those smaller bodies. Even then, they can be dissected into greater detail - colour, texture, position, action - what was who drinking or eating or doing simultaneous to the rememberer's actions?"

The Headmaster unexpectedly changed direction, retracing their steps, and James continued on for a few moments before he realised Dumbledore was no longer with him. As he regained the lost ground, the musings had continued. "They are also alike in that they may be sour or sweet. A raspberry, if picked too early, is most displeasing in taste; but when it has been given time to ripen, its sweetness is most pleasant. Likewise, the memory of that joke is more sour while it is still fresh and green. But as the rememberer ages, the blow lessens, becomes miniscule, occasionally even cherished with fondness."

Again the Headmaster changed direction and they began the length of the hall a third time. "And like a raspberry which grows moldy and with time degenerates until it is no longer a raspberry, so too do our memories degenerate. Whether it is time or our own doing which causes the distortion, a memory is often different when looked back upon than when it was made. Ah, just in time. I was beginning to make myself hungry."

James, who had been studying an enormous tapestry, trying to figure out why a medieval wizard might have been training trolls for the ballet and therefore listening with only half an ear, suddenly realised that the soft brushing of Dumbledore's footsteps and the glide of this robes had ceased. He turned and found the old wizard had quite vanished. His searching eyes came to a door that had most certainly not been there before and, with a sigh of resignation, he opened it.

The room he entered was large and dim, lit almost solely by wandlight. There were half-visible and indescribable symbols decorating the walls, but what drew his gaze and stole his breath was the great circle of mirrors in the middle: a Stonehenge of reflections, gleaming in the faint light.

He was motioned to stand at its centre, and once there he was faced with an army of himself at least two dozen strong. What made it more than a mere circle of reflection was that each visage was a different James. He was surrounded by himself from all walks of life: the Commodore, calm and confident, with a hint of humour and cynicism that had been gained after his encounter with Sparrow, proud but devoted to protecting the innocent; a teenaged midshipman, just promoted to acting-lieutenant by the look of it, nervous but eager to prove himself; as a young boy growing up in Scotland, so innocent and full of life;. He saw himself as a ferret and as a half-beast. He saw himself sodden and resigned, and knew he was seeing himself preparing to let go of the floating plank in the hurricane and join his crewmates in death.

Directly behind him was a man who looked and dressed like him, but who was not him. The open expression, the lack of depth to the eyes - or, perhaps, a different sort of depth - and the general posture made it evident that this was him after he had remembered a false past. They turned their backs on one another as he faced forward once more. Only the reflection in front of him seemed to be a normal mirror, showing him as he was now.

They all moved with him. If he were to turn to a cabin boy and raise one hand, so too would the boy. Out of the corner of his eye, he would see that the other reflections had also raised their hands, and he would see them looking out the corners of their eyes.

"James," the sound of Lupin's voice snatched him away from his observations, "Do you understand the procedure detailed in the fourth volume of Stabe?" Norrington nodded, eyes widening with apprehension. "That is what we are going to be attempting tonight. We think it may solve your problem. Are you willing to give it a try?" It was more out of facination than anything that James agreed, and the plans were explained to him. "Are you ready?"

Swallowing, he replied, "As I'll ever be."

"Then let us begin." Dumbledore moved to where he could see James through the gap between two mirrors. Snape and Lupin did the same, and in this way they formed an equilateral triangle around the circle of mirrors, with their victim at the very centre. All at once they began to recite incantations, their voices boucing off the walls of the room and merging to form an eerie chant. Without a break in pace, the three raised their wands and pointed them skyward. Lupin gave a wave of his, and the unseen shade of an unseen window rolled up to let in the moonlight, strong and bright. It bathed James in light and reflected off the mirrors so brightly that it might have been day.

The transformation began almost instantly. "Fight it, James!" Lupin urged him, while the other two continued to recite. "Give it everything you've got!" And he did. He put every ounce of his strength into it. He thought about everything that made him him, and fought not to lost his grip on himself. Even so, he felt his body changing shape, and although he continued to fight the moon's power, it seemed that he could not halt it. So hard was he concentrating that he didn't realise that he was in no pain.

At last the chanting ceased and the transformation stopped. As the echoes faded, James could feel that he once more had four legs, a tail, and moveable ears, and he knew that he was a ferret again. Had he been so unable to fight as he had done? Or was this the result of the procedure which, as he had read, was a reflection of his own personality? He placed his head on his paws in shame. He really was a ferret at heart.

That was when he saw his reflection. The creature staring back at him was not a tiny, faint-hearted, conniving ferret, but a great, golden lion.

"Congratulations, James," said Dumbledore. "You are now an animegus."

Well, I hope you enjoyed that! Ideas for the next chapter are already under way, and an ending appears to be in sight.

I giggle to myself because I was listening to Chain of Memories music as I wrote the memory similie.

Please leave a review! Thanks!