I had a couple of clever reviewers point out if you can't have an animagus of a magical creature, then why could Hermione have a metamorphagus form of a mermaid? Well the largest, most honest reason is "author privilege" and "alternate universe". But seriously, my reasoning is as follows: the animagus form is the 'animal within' – the spirit guide type of thing. It is an animal from the natural world that best expresses the basic personality and drive of the wizard or witch. So many of the magical creatures are too intelligent – I wanted to show the essence of each character as portrayed in an animal. Now, the metamorphagus is more complicated. My story is insinuating that Hermione is either related by blood to the mermaid (and I don't want to think about how that would work…), or so spiritually in tune, that her magic allows her to be one. She doesn't understand it fully herself, but realizes that it is powerfully part of her – for all practical purposes she should have been a mermaid, and IS a mermaid. Also, I feel there is a world of difference between an animal with a wizard's brain, and a magical being – the same magic would not apply. Does that make sense?

Some folks pointed out that bears are indeed native to England. I know that, but bears are not loyal to their mates or families. Mother bears are fierce protectors of young cubs, but at 2 years of age will gladly maul them. So Neville could not be a bear, even though he looks 'bear-like'.

Final tally of houses (as of the time I finished this chapter) Slytherin 10, Hufflepuff 4, Gryffindor 5, Ravenclaw 3.

And thanks to my talented and lovely beta Spacegal19!

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Chapter 25

Harry

Godric Gryffindor was not a man who didn't think before acting. He was not a man of misplaced passions. But that's not to say he didn't jump into something with both feet and say afterwards 'boy that was fun' while everyone else was weakly shaking their heads and downing healing potions.

He had waiting too long to get his hands on Harry. This was going to be a blast. He all but dragged him to his classroom and practically threw him a long sword. "Time to train, lad!" he quipped and threw himself at him with abandon.

Harry finished the week barely able to walk or lift his arms. He hurt. But boy; was he learning to duel. Magical dueling, swords, soundless, wandless, two wands – Harry was growing very dangerous and proficient in it all. Godric was like a child in Honeydukes when Harry showed him his dueling/second wand. They quickly learned the best ways to utilize it, and had many fun group sessions with them.

The Chosen One was already as comfortable with wandless magic as he was 'with-wand', thanks to the Goblin training, but Goblins did not use magic in fighting as much as weaponry – it was a matter of personal pride for them. Godric was able to now hone his ability and teach Harry to cast curses and hexes without the use of his wands. Harry still felt that his custom wand 'packed more punch', but if he found himself wandless, he was still a force to be reckoned with.

Harry was destined to be a warrior – forged by time herself to be the weapon to take down the perversion that was Tom Riddle. And Harry wasn't going to let time down. He was strong with a wiry strength – Neville was the muscle and Harry was the tendons. He was graceful as a dancer, cunning as a fox, and he was quickly becoming mortally dangerous to the dark.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o

Harry was sitting in the great hall with his friends. They were all sharpening their swords, Neville's companion gnome giving them helpful advice. Gnomes had an affinity with metals and stone as well as plants. A house-elf came up with a tray of hot mead for the young adults to enjoy. He thanked the elf as he took his tankard, looking the creature over. The house-elves were different then present day. It drove Harry to distraction at times to have to 'own' Dobby, Winky, and the rest – it grated on his sense of justice, and he absolutely hated the way the wizarding world looked down on the house-elf.

Harry called the elf back to him. "Andy?" The elf looked up and came over. "Why are you so different from the elves of my time?"

Andy smiled but wasn't much help. "I'm sorry; sir, but I've never met the elves of your time."

Rowena looked at the exchange sadly. "I can answer that for him, Harry. Your house elves are tragically the product of countless generations of inbreeding forced on them by possessive wizards. As with any living being, inbreeding will reinforce both the good and bad genetics of that being. House-elves from your time are stronger in magic and loyalty, but on the down side, they are not as intelligent or independent. Wizards over the centuries have convinced themselves that house-elves have always been thus, and taken advantage of it."

Harry felt himself choked up. Poor Dobby and Winky was a product of wizard's selfish needs. Perhaps laws could be passed to allow for more independence for the house-elves. With a larger gene pool, perhaps the house-elves could regain their dignity given time.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o

Harry dutifully followed Godric into the Forbidden Forest. He felt the reassuring thump of his sword in its scabbard bumping his leg rhythmically as he walked, and knew he had two wands instantly accessible if necessary. Since his teacher didn't look concerned, he wouldn't be either.

They traveled a tangled path until they came to a clearing. With a start, Harry recognized the boulders lining the area – this was the place where he first saw Voldemort, drinking the blood of the innocent unicorn. His eyes landed on the spot where the dead animal had lain, with the ghostly Quirrell/Voldemort hunched over it. Godric stopped in the center and called out a shout in some unknown language that filled Harry's very veins with pride and hope. He looked around expectantly.

He didn't have long to wait, before several centaurs came trotting into the clearing. They gave formal nods to Godric, whom they clearly saw as an equal. He nodded back in such a manner that Harry knew Godric saw them as his peers as well. Harry bowed and they eyed him over before speaking.

"Welcome, Chosen One. The stars have spoken of you for centuries. It is an honor to see you at last" a tall, sturdy bay spoke. The centaur was serious, noble, and had the same dreaminess as Luna. Harry felt the wisdom of ages radiating from the man.

A centaur with a palomino body spoke to Godric. "What can we do for you, Godric?"

Godric smiled sadly. "The centaurs of Harry's time have grown distrustful from generations of dishonest wizards dealing with them shamefully. The fault is man's. Can you teach Harry to speak so he can mend the bridges wizard-kind has burned?"

The third centaur Harry noticed with a start was a female, black bodied with white stockings. "We can teach him our tongue and manners, but what he does with it is up to him."

Godric bowed again. I will leave him with you. Let him come and visit the castle as he needs – he has companions he is closely bonded with." With a friendly clap on Harry's back, he turned and left Harry with the fierce looking centaurs.

O0o0o0o0o0o

With a small sigh Harry turned from his retreating teacher and eyed the three centaurs. They studied him for a time, and the female smiled. "My name is Allyce, young heir. Come with us."

They left the familiar clearing and made their way deeper in the Forbidden Forest. "Just how far does this painting go?" Harry glanced around with astonishment. There were many creatures running and flying through the woods as they passed – how could one painting support all of this?

The tall bay, whom Harry learned was named Brennan, smiled. "Once you entered the forest, you left the painting, Chosen One. You are correct – a painting can only host so much magic. Most of your current experience takes place in other dimensions.

"Hmmm" Harry replied, not at all surprised. "When are we, then?"

The palomino, Chatten, mused "I'm not sure how to translate. We don't use the same calendar as you. We go by the stars."

"Oh this is going to take a looong time" Harry thought to himself.

The four walked in silence through the darkening wood. They stopped at a clearing in a sunken glen where Allyce walked to a small group of saplings and started chanting in a low voice. Harry watched with interest as the small trees willingly bent and wove themselves into an open-ended shelter.

Night fell as the centaurs taught Harry which plants were edible and how to cook them over a small campfire that gave off little light or smoke. Once the meal was done, they put the fire out to watch the stars that showed through the clearing in the trees above their heads. "Most of our lessons" Chatten smiled solemnly at Harry, "will be at night."

Harry wasn't sure which he would be missing more – meat or conversation that didn't wander down mental bunny trails.

O0o0o0o0o0o

Harry spent the next few months with Chatten, Allyce and Brennan studying hard. He took occasional breaks back to Hogwarts, mostly for a good steamy snog with Hermione and to pig out on roast mutton or beef. He had a long list of what he missed from his own time – Hermione, plumbing, the huge variety of food at Hogwarts-present-day, Hermione, draft-free rooms, beds (when he was with the centaurs), Hermione, meat (when he was with the centaurs), underwear, and Hermione.

He was truly not one to whine, but the centaur magic was very strange and foreign to him. Centaurs did not use wands, and didn't do much in the way of magic as Harry would call it. They would enchant their weapons for strength and accuracy, work with the trees for shelter as he had seen, and they would do charms for secrecy and protection. The horse-people didn't have many possessions, so there wasn't much to defend, levitate, or hide.

On overcast days Harry would learn the centaur tongue and customs. His three companions were very easy to get along with as centaurs go, but they were not warm and friendly. Centaurs just were not that way. They were consumed with reading the stars and forecasting the future over decades of comparative star alignments. Why was anyone's guess. How did it benefit the centaurs to watch Mars or Jupiter for years and years and be able to say with a deep, wisdom-filled voice "A time of great change is at hand." Just what is that suppose to mean and who does it benefit?

Harry left the centaurs with a deep appreciation of their love for the wood and creatures, and a huge respect for their patience. But he couldn't honestly say he would miss them.

O0o0o0o0o0o

Harry was sitting in a sun-drenched classroom with Rowena and Godric, having returned from the centaurs. "Today" she started, "We are going to talk about your curse scar. Have you ever thought about why you survived Riddle's attack as a baby?"

The young wizard raised his eyebrow in surprise. There would be no dueling today, he realized sadly. "Well, Dumbledore told me it was because my mum sacrificed her life to protect me."

"So was it your Mum or your Dad's death that protected you?" she challenged the boy.

"Err, well, he said she invoked an ancient charm – she was said to be good at charms." Harry wriggled in his seat, uncomfortable with the subject.

"Harry, when did she have time to cast a charm? You have lived through your parent's death far too many times due to your link with Riddle and your sensitivity to dementors. What did she cast?" Godric looked at him with a penetrating gaze.

He shut his mouth, realizing it had been hanging open. "She didn't" he concluded. "And it could not have been merely the act of sacrifice – I would guess many parents die to protect their children. Am I right?"

Godric smiled encouragingly. "Yes Harry. So how did you survive?"

"I take it you know, or have some good idea?" Harry leaned forward with interest. Knowing if he could survive a killing curse a second time could come in handy – especially when one has a blood thirsty crazed megalomaniac after them.

Rowena cleared her throat. "We don't know for sure, Harry. But we can draw some conclusions. First of all, everyone knows there is no spell to shield the Avada Kedavra – if your mother had discovered one, she would have used it to protect your father and herself as well as you."

Harry nodded in agreement with her logic.

The black-haired witch continued. "I think we all agree it wasn't simply the act of self sacrifice. If that were the case, your father's death would have shielded your mother. Also, there would be more examples of it."

"Some people feel it's unblockable" Godric broke in, "but you know that's not true. You have seen several instances where it was blocked by physical objects. So there is the possibility of armor – but I doubt your Mum had dressed you in plate or dragonhide for the evening."

"So how?" Harry asked with frustration. "How did I survive one?"

Godric gave him a slightly apologetic look. "Well, to start with, the Avada Kedavra was invented by the four of us,"

"WHAT?" Harry interrupted. "I would NEVER have expected that!"

Rowena sniffed "don't jump to conclusions, dear. We actually developed it as a humane way to butcher animals. We did not teach it to anyone, and we never used it on sentient beings. It seems my dear husband Salazar kept a private journal that included the development of it, which surfaced in the 1800s. Sadly, a dark wizard got hold of the notes and re-invented it."

Harry gaped at the witch, feeling marginally better at hearing that.

"Anyway" Godric continued, "being a spell that was 'co-authored', so to say, by the four of us, it can not be used by one of us against any of us. I can't kill Rowena with the AK, and she can't kill Helga with it, etc."

"Why and how?" Harry asked, rubbing his scar unconsciously.

"Too bad Hogwarts doesn't teach magical theory or creation anymore, but creation of a spell is a very difficult and involved process. Basically when a mage creates a spell, it has their magical 'signature' in it. The notes that Salazar left were detailed enough to bring to light our old spell – signature and all. And having our signatures on that spell means that blood heirs can not kill each other with it."

Harry's jaw dropped open again. He conjured a glass of water to re-hydrate his tongue that was getting way too much air. "Sooooo you are saying that I…" he started hesitantly.

"Yes" Godric spoke up. "You must be related to one of us. We haven't bothered following genealogy over the past 1000 years, as we don't leave the painting – we concentrate of 'spiritual heirs' when the need arises. We don't know for sure which one of us is your great-great-great, and so on, grandfather or mother."

The water gone, Harry wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and sputtered "now hold on. Wouldn't that mean the wizard who created Scourgify centuries ago would find his friends could not use it on him to clean his robes after a sloppy meal? What about other every day spells like Expelliarmus and Wingardium Leviosa?"

Rowena smiled at his astuteness. "Very good, Harry. But commonly used spells were created removing that magical signature so that wouldn't happen. That's just common courtesy when inventing a spell that has the potential of becoming popular. We didn't bother with that step with Avada Kedavra because we never intended to use it anywhere but the farm attached to Hogwarts for butchering meat for the school."

"So whose kid am I?" Harry looked at the two of them, now squirming with excitement.

Godric smiled broadly. "Probably mine, Harry. Your parents did live in Godric's Hollow, and you were able to pull my sword from my sorting hat."

"How cool is that?" Harry was grinning ear to ear. "But it's good and bad news. Tom can't use it on me, but I can't use it on him."

Rowena and Godric both nodded solemnly in agreement.

"So why did his body die when he attacked me as a baby?" Harry frowned. Even if your soul was left behind, he still felt the body dying was pretty bad.

"Again, we are just theorizing, but we think it is the amount of magic you have. You are a very powerful wizard, Harry. When he tried to kill you, not only was the spell unable to kill you due to your blood ties, your magic threw it back magnified. There are instances of that happening in young children – just never with the AK." Rowena studied Harry like a specimen in a display case. "But again, we have no way of proving it."

Harry's head shot up suddenly. "Then how did my dad die?" he asked penetratingly. I'm pretty sure he would be the blood relation to you, Godric."

"Who says James was killed with the AK?" Godric asked softly. "You weren't in the room when Riddle murdered him – you were upstairs with your mother. From what you told us, there were the signs of a battle in the parlor – several spells were traded, and there wasn't room to hide behind anything. It appears Riddle used something else. When the Avada Kedavra is used against a sentient being, the caster has to use an intense amount of hatred and power. It is likely that Riddle did not see your father as a challenge and was 'playing' with him, not willing to expend his magical energy on removing him."

Harry winced at the thought of this. He would have to speak with his father's portrait when he returned to the trunk.

O0o0o0o0o0o

Harry had a tough day. He had finished his training with the centaurs last week, and was slowly getting use to living with humans again. Today had started out rough. First, he had started studying the steps to revealing his animagus form, and it was interrupted by a rather hysterical Hermione. It had taken him the rest of the morning to calm her down and accept her, in his opinion, very cool adder form.

He learned at lunch that earlier in the week Luna had already achieved her form of some kind of hawk, and Neville was a black wolf. Granted he was starting later then his friends, but if he was totally honest with himself, he wasn't use to being last in things.

He was really struggling with the enchantments to discover his form. At first he was hoping for something way cool like a dragon, Pegasus, or griffon, but Godric had assured him that magical beasts were not possible. He really wanted it to be something that could fly, and the only progress he had made was the briefest of glimpse of a clawed avian foot, so that was good.

What kind of bird? He looked through the windows in the Great Hall, waiting for his friends to join him for dinner. An owl would be neat – he could talk to Hedwig much better that way. A hawk like Luna's wasn't bad, although he felt her form was way too girly for him self. Perhaps an eagle or menacing looking vulture? Or maybe the foot wasn't from a bird, but a bat? A bat could be very cool – the ability to get around in the dark could be very useful, and it would be a plus to make girls scream.

O0o0o0o0o00o

After a week of struggling with discovering his form, everyone met in the Great Hall to help Harry. Rowena looked pointedly at Luna "are you sure you can't help him out?" If she sounded a bit annoyed, it was because she was. She had been trying to get Luna all week to tell her what form Harry's animagus would be, and Luna flatly refused.

"All right, Harry, "Rowena marched up to him. "This could have gone much quicker for you if a certain witch" she shot a dirty look at Luna again, who was ignoring it as only Luna can, "would help more. I've got a spell that the four of us will do on you to achieve your first transfiguration. Once you've seen it and felt it, you will be able to do it from there."

He nodded in agreement and stood in a large open area of the hall.

"Why so much space around you, Harry?" Luna asked mildly.

"Well, I know I'm some sort of bird, but I don't know what. What if I'm a condor, or even a Pterodactyl? I don't want to hurt anyone." He stood in still expectancy, waiting for the spell.

The founders stood in a circle around Harry and started chanting and waving their wands at him. With a puff of smoke, Harry was gone. Neville started searching around the ceiling for a flying hawk or eagle, but Hermione and the founders were staring at the floor in mute shock. Luna simply raised an eyebrow and said "I didn't want to be the one to burst his bubble".

Harry looked up at his friends. "Burst my bubbles? What does Luna mean?" Harry tried to look over his shoulder to see his back, but his head didn't bend that way. "Well, I'm not an owl then" he thought practically. He tried to bend down to see his chest, but found his neck was relatively short and stiff. He cocked his head and looked at Hermione and the founders. Hermione was clasping her hands by her cheek and cooing – not a good sign. The founders were in a worse state then Harry had found Salazar the other morning. They were snorting, crying, and choking with mirth. Why were they so huge? Just how big was he?

With a dirty look at the teachers, he spread his wings and took off. He landed lightly on a window sill and examined the reflection and peeped in extreme annoyance and humiliation. The bird peeping back at him was a robin.

O0o0o0o0o0o

Harry was on his second flagon of mead. Due to the time difference he was now of age and, quite frankly, he needed it. He, Lord Harry Furybolt James Potter-Black, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, Goblin warrior, hope of the wizarding world and heir to Godric Gryffindor had an animagus form of a common robin. And not even a large American Robin, but a 'cute widdle rolly polly' British robin. The stuff of Christmas cards. Not the stuff of legends. He would never, never live this down.

Hermione tried to be sympathetic, but kept breaking into choruses of how cute he was. He didn't want to be cute – he wanted to be imposing, dangerous, and COOL! She tried to point out that robins are very, very brave, especially for their size, but quite frankly it didn't help.

"Oh well" he sighed, draining the earthenware tankard, "at least I can fly."

… and let the flames begin!