It is good to be back.
After receiving permission to leave, Hermione left Harry in the potions classroom with only a glance to inform him that she felt for his predicament.
Encouraging as it was, Harry felt that maybe if she where in his shoes she might do more than merely feel some modicum of empathy and actually try to help him out. Perhaps if she made the same mistakes he did they might both be able to shoulder each other along though that was of course wishful thinking. Hermione was the perfect student even when she broke the rules. Professor Snape had said so a few minutes ago.
With a thud, the door shut behind the witch and Harry flinched at the sound. Every sound seemed to alert him, to get his body producing adrenaline and flooding his blood with the energy to fight for his life or flee to see another day. Of course, he was not an animal and the urges were more primitive than anything else, translated into gentle clenching and relaxing of his hands into fists over and over as his breathing started to steady itself. His head pulsed, even in the silence he felt like he was going deaf from the ever increasing loudness of the hiss, like sand poured down a bottomless well to slide along one side and cavort through to the other while perpetually speeding up.
"Do you need to go see Madame Pomfrey?" Asked the professor all of a sudden. "I assume that your lack of attention to my admonishings is undoubtedly caused by a sudden and catastrophic failure of your ears, Mister Potter otherwise I will assume it to be conscious and willful disregard of ones betters. Do I need to subtract another five points from Slytherin?"
Harry snapped to reality with a shudder. He felt ill, tired, exhausted, it seemed that all the afflictions of the world had congregated to have a turn inhabiting his body. "N-no sir… I am just tired."
"I hope you understand the gravity of the situation." Said the professor, taking a few steps to begin cleaning the surfaces of the tables with his wand, a spray hissing out that seemed to both clean, disinfect and polish the wooden tops. Harry did not understand what gravity there could be to the situation. He'd only burned his potion, it was not exactly the end of the world, was it?
"Sorry sir, I do not see the gravity. It was only some eye of newt." He replied with marvelous lack of awareness to whom he was speaking to, what he was saying and the apparent tone he was saying it in. With a flutter of robes rippling in the air, Snape was beside Harry staring down at the youth.
"Mind your tongue, Potter…" There was unprecedented vitriol in the words, startling Harry who stared up with wide eyes at the hunching professor. A hand on his shoulder kept him in place, preventing him from bolting away which was what his legs were demanding he do to get away from this terrifying spectre of magical potion death. "This castle and its rules have stood for a thousand years because of obedience, devotion to keeping the magical community safe, and most importantly, doing what must be done when it needs to be done. What do you suppose would have happened if you and your friends had become lost during your exploration?"
He hadn't thought about it from that perspective. "I suppose we would have been searched for?" Replied Harry with a voice just loud enough to not be considered a whisper.
"We would have searched for what was left of you. This castle is ancient, the moving stairs have taken the lives of a few wizards and witches too stupid to grab hold of the handrails. Only recently did enough protesting come towards Hogwarts and its management that we labored during the summer to ensure such accidents would not happen again. In the eyes of a few of the older alumni we are coddling your generation. You almost burned the infusion of eye of newt, today. The vapors of such an accidental brewing are noxious and can lead to death if inhaled in sufficient doses."
Harry paled, then. How could he have been so stupid? "Thank you…"
Snape paused at that. Turning slowly to look at the small, far too thin for his age young wizard. "You have enough punishments on your plate, Mister Potter." Replied the potions master. Lilly's eyes stared at him as if through time and space, imploring him to care for her son. Yet it was James that looked at him as well…
Severus Snape walked to the table, sitting down and scratching away at a scrap of parchment, waving it in the air to encourage the ink to dry some. "Give this to Professor McGonagall, she will excuse your tardiness and refrain from disciplining you."
Harry took the paper, mutely nodding and making his way through before exiting the room. Severus stared at the spot where the young wizard had been before vanishing from sight, the door latching closed as he pondered the days events.
The classroom was somewhat silent save for the bubbling of a few cauldrons for Snape's personal projects. He stood, continuing the cleaning of the tables in order to allow for the next batch of students to sit swiftly and commence their lessons promptly. Tapping away, his steps were the loudest thing yet he did not hear them, so immersed he was in his own thoughts.
There had been a time when he would have done anything to look at those green eyes again, apologize and beg for forgiveness yet to see them now on the face of someone who tormented him so in his early life was truly a wicked twist of fate. Standing before a bubbling pot of Fool's Twady, the tall potions master hung his head and heaved a heavy sigh. Life was cruel. Clearly, James and Lilly had been the lucky ones.
The hallways were empty, Harry being the only student left to make his way through to his next class. That being Professor McGonagall's Transfigurations and Basic Enchantments, he was not exactly the most enthused wizard to arrive late to the strict woman's lecture.
Unavoidably, given his after-class discussion with Professor Snape, he was late. All eyes were on him as he opened the heavy wooden door and silently made his way to the front.
A large cat sat at the table, tail flicking at the tip back and forth and that ever impassive glare that all cats seemed to have focused directly on him. Awkwardly, Harry approached the table and placed the sheet of parchment before her, swallowing before opening his mouth to say something and then, after thinking better of it, turned to take a seat.
He could imagine the look of surprise on his face when he almost crashed against Professor McGonagall. "Oh I am so sorry!" He exclaimed, his books spilling down to the floor and dropping to his knees in order to pick them up, glancing up at the less-than-impressed woman. Was it him, or did her bun look tighter than usual? Papers rustled as he scooped them up, notes from Defense Against the Dark Arts, a few very rough sketches of the phantom, scratched out scribblings from Potions and the essays he had been beginning to write during the few minutes he had to himself.
"Stand up, Mister Potter." Her tone was cutting and direct, forcing him to obey swiftly and let out a somewhat muffled rip due to his shoes keeping the low hem of his robes beneath him while rising up. A few muffled chuckles were heard and Harry felt his vision cloud in embarrassment and anger. Tears, threatening to spill down boyish cheeks, were nonetheless kept at bay by pride and sheer stubborn will.
Professor McGonagall saw this and turned slowly around to face the class. "Did someone share a joke?" She asked gently, silence as deep as a tomb falling to replace the mirth from a second ago. "I am genuinely curious, does anyone find anything humorous about this situation?" Uncomfortable silence.
"I thought not. However, unless I am going senile already, I am confident in saying that I heard the insidious laughter of mockery in the air. Needless to say, I am disappointed in you all. Hogwarts is a place of decorum, civility and camaraderie. The misfortunes of a student are not the subject of ridicule but should be the source of solidarity. You are all to write a ten thousand word essay on the value of brotherhood, as well as the positives of community compared to the negatives of isolation." A chorus of protests rose up, a few students pointing at those that had been the ones to laugh, proclaiming the unjustness of it all. "Shall I make it twenty thousand words?" Silence, again. "Good."
"Now then, Mister Potter, why are you late to my class?" Asked the professor, waving her wand in a familiar motion to the students, the papers organizing them selves in the air, the books flapping up before settling down on the empty table that sat between Ron and Hermione.
"I was kept after class by Professor Snape, professor." Replied Harry, wanting to sit at the table yet knowing that if McGonagall did not give him leave to sit, he did not have a right to sit.
"Very well, I shall refrain from reprimanding you and removing points from your house. Take a seat, I shall go over the points that your classmates were privy to until you arrived." With a nod, Harry took his seat and felt an odd sensation. It was warm in his breast, as if a fire were burning inside yet not hurting him. Only wanting to share the warmth. His lips trembled, his nose becoming stuffy before the words of the professor's lecture dragged him out from his stupor and back to the life and reality he was in.
The lesson had its interesting points and its lulls of boredom but overall Harry had to say that he genuinely tried to understand what was being taught. A demonstration of an enchantment left the class chattering in awe. Where once had stood a proud eagle now scurried a humble mouse.
"The fundamental rules of this spell are simple. Something can be turned into another thing as long as both bodies are understood and comprehended by the caster. The more knowledge and understanding one has, the more efficient the spells will be." With a soft flick of her wand, the mouse returned to the form of an eagle which flapped its wings once, twice, then took off to glide a few times around the class before swooping down to roost in its cage.
"Does anyone feel like explaining what the other rules might be? Mister Thomas?" A young, caramel skinned wizard stood at his seat and cleared his throat. "I think… The spells only work if both bodies share something in common?" McGonagall dipped her head with an arched eyebrow, a clear invitation for him to continue elaborating.
"So… If both bodies are alive, it's easier to transform the one into the other?" He sounded hopeful that he had answered correctly.
"That is a very rough explanation, but the very core of it is correct. Ten points to Ravenclaw." With a pleased grin, Thomas sat and scribbled some notes.
"Indeed, if for example both objects share a heartbeat while alive, it is possible to turn a majestic eagle into a humble field mouse. There are, of course, limitations. Size does come into account when one becomes proficient in more advanced transformations. It is extraordinarily difficult to transform a whale into, say, a dog. It would be possible; however, I do believe that the dog would behave in a very confused manner." That garnered a few chuckles from the students though there were also a couple that remained silent, still upset that the lengthy essay they had been punished into completing.
"Professor?" Asked Hermione, a hand up in the air. A burning question was clearly blazing in her mind. With a nod from the older woman, Hermione stood and swallowed, trying to phrase the question as well as she could.
"Does transformation magic affect the process of becoming an animagus?"
Minerva McGonagall pursed her lips, her mouth drawn into a thin line. Not for the first time had she been asked that question and she knew that further into the future she could be asked that very same thing again. A dreadfully inventive cadre of friends came to her mind and with a shiver the aged professor felt that she might be looking at a repeat of that experience with the three troublemakers.
Merlin keep her sane.
"Indeed, Miss Granger. And by the looks of it, it seems most of the class is thinking the same thing now." With a huff, the woman placed her hands on her hips and tapped her foot. "I relent, it is clear that nothing else will appeal to your young minds. Close your books, clear your desks and pay attention. This is advanced magic which I am sharing with you in hopes it will instill in you a desire to learn. It is also highly complex, dangerous if not done right and drawing from very advanced potion brewing skills, as well as transmutation knowledge. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term, transmutation is a branch of alchemy which is taught to all fifth years onwards. You will have much time to think about the implications of it all, as well as the consequences to doing it incorrectly."
Turning to the cat that was loafing on her table, the professor stroked its neck and back, regal as a queen and twice as dangerous given her magical knowledge. The cat purred, turning around to wiggle in place with its belly up and its legs curled in submission. Up it stared at the woman, eyes wide and big, tail poofy and clearly enjoying the pets it was getting. Professor McGonagall remained silent for a little while longer in order to provide the cat as much touching as it wanted, she herself was well aware of how delightful the sensations were.
Once again, her mind drifted back to the four cheerfully and smiling students that had harassed her, pestered her and ultimately begged her for the knowledge. A stag, a dog and a rat, all in hopes to keep their friend company. At the time she had been annoyed and even irritated by them all. Now she wished she could go back to better times.
"The animagus is a wizard that has dedicated their life to an existence of duality. Some compare them to the werewolves though that is far from true. An animagus can transform at will." With that, she morphed faster than the eye could follow into a cat of somewhat tiger-like appearance though her fur was brown, dark green and black at parts. Just as quickly as before, the professor stood before them without even a single hair out of place.
"The process for becoming an animagus is long, arduous and fraught with peril. Any deviation from the path can lead to a forceful repeat of the entire journey from the beginning. Before any of you think yourselves clever enough to ask for the process and its details, the Ministry of Magic keeps very close tabs on those that undertake the transformation. To be discovered as an illegal animagus has very severe consequences." She had begun to pace, the tip of her wand gently striking at her palm while she mused on the impromptu lesson.
"The animal that one transforms into is not selected by the wizard, either. The discovery of what creature one becomes is done at the very end during the first transformation. Some wizards are let down at finding out that their animal form is not some majestic creature and instead a rat of some sorts, or a mouse, or perhaps a turtledove. It is the personality and the personality alone that dictates what form the spells will grant the wizard or witch that undertakes the procedure." Stirring, some of the students glanced about. Many wondered what animal they would be if allowed to go through the seemingly gruelling procedure.
"This is all, of course, merely hypothetical. Back to the lessons; if we take note of…" On continued the professor, the lesson now becoming a more standardized situation.
Harry, however, could not help but feel like there was something missing about the situation. Hearing about wizards becoming like animals… No, becoming literal animals seemed to spark his heart and not for the first time did he wonder if there was maybe something more to it. Maybe-
"Mister Potter, are you feeling unwell?" McGonagall's voice cut through the momentary haze in his mind, drawing him back to the present in what seemed to be a way of traveling through time. The class was empty and both Ron as well as Hermione waited expectantly at the door. Harry stood, busily putting his books and parchment rolls away, managing to not overturn the ink well so as to not make a mess of the polished and aged wood of his lectern.
"No, thank you." He managed to mumble out before turning and joining his friends. Why did he feel some ill at ease with McGonagall? Her eyes seemed to cut through anything, as if the aged woman would read the very being of whomever it was she gazed upon.
Her words echoed after the trio, haunting in their repeating tones as the sounds bounced about from the stone walls. "Do not forget your appointment tonight, you three."
How could they? It felt like they were being sent to their deaths.
The sun had set, dinner had been eaten and by the time Ron was finished with his labors in the greenhouses, the three Slytherins and Malfoy stood before the groundskeeper's hut with a very resilient and heavy set of coats and cloaks to keep the chill at bay. Just because they were going out at night into the Forbidden Forest to do Gods knew what did not mean that they were going to do so without a way to avoid falling sick from a cold.
A harsh, trumpet like snort started the four young slytherins quite badly, Dracon giving a shout and hiding behind Harry while Hermione gripped the petrified Ron and positioned herself in a tactically advantageous position. Also behind him.
Their fear was, of course, unfounded. It was merely a very sad, red-eyed Hagrid who was packing a crossbow almost as tall as they were and carrying a quiver full of thick bolts for shooting, in case something did attempt to get a taste of the group.
Sniffle, snort, either Hagrid was unaware of the existence of handkerchiefs or he was severely upset. With a groan, Filch made his own presence known, Mrs. Norris conspicuously absent from their gathering although Fang was there to represent animals, it seemed. Slobbering and whining as a ludicrously folded face glanced at the sobbing half-giant.
"For Merlin's sake, put yourself together, man!" Snapped the irritable Filch who, despite common belief, did not in fact spend his life prowling the halls of the castle during the night. Sleep was, after all, a blissful way to pass the time.
Harry arched an eyebrow, the four slowly loosening from their stances of fright and/or defence. "Hagrid?"
"Norbert's gone…" Grunted the half-giant. His voice was heavy with loss even though he had only had the creature for the better part of three days. "Dumbledore traded 'im off to a breeder in Romania." He coughed at that, a shuddering sob racking through him before he let twin tears glisten and drip down ruddy cheeks to become lost in his beard.
That seemed pragmatic to Hermione. A fledgeling dragon was, from what she understood, as good as a mountain of gold to some wizards. If they let Norbert grow older and bigger, he could be harvested for materials and, once he outlived his usefulness, he could be put down and harvested until nothing remained. Dragons were deeply magical beings, and even though part of her knew that the death of such a creature was sad, the knowledge that even in death he could provide useful ingredients made her feel oddly at peace about the concept.
Wait, a breeder?
"Breeder?" Asked Ron and Hermione at once. Hagrid nodded. "Norbert's a girl, though I donno know they can tell. He… She's so little." Hermione knew all too well how harsh breeders were in the muggle world. Harry looked a little green.
Memories of Aunt Margaret rushed to him, endless tirades about dogs being too small for use and, rather than give them away as any person with half-a-heart would, she figured that if they were not for her, they were not for anybody. She had been involved in many, many accounts of animal cruelty, as well as once coming dangerously close to illegal things regarding dogs which, admittedly, Harry had instinctively shut his ears to. Not that it had done much good whenever they had visited her pens. The smell, like months worth of potty walks all clustered into a single acre of land.
Dogs the size of motorcycles, at least small ones. Salivating, growling whenever they looked at him. Dudley had been all too amused to push Harry towards the fences, making the dogs lose their minds for some reason and start baying like a hunting pack out for blood.
There was no love lost between Harry and dogs. Fang was ok, though. He supposed he could make an exception for the lazy hound.
With a grunt, Filch hefted up a glowing orange lantern, handing one to Draco and one to Ron. Almost instantly, Draco stood beside Harry, eyeing the red-headed wizard with something that bordered too closely on contempt. How quickly had the situation been forgotten. To Malfoy, it was not a trip through the Forbidden Forest now. It was a chance to accumulate political pull with the Boy Who Lived.
Not that Ron minded, Hermione was far more pleasant company anyway and if Draco wanted to go with Harry, that was fine by him.
Indeed, the group had guessed correctly that they would be split up, sent to walk about the woods for some reason that still they could not hazard a guess to. Why this punishment? It made no sense, not to Harry, Draco, Ron or Hermione. In truth, neither Hagrid nor Filch understood it either, but they were kept in the castle to obey, not ask questions.
"Right then." Mumbled Hagrid who, through their little arrangement, had been absentmindedly scratching Fang's head much to the visible pleasure of the dog. "Off we go. Dumbledore said to keep our eyes open, there's a unicorn in the region."
A muffled gasp escaped their lips. Though raised amongst muggles, Harry and Hermione understood the significance of a unicorn, if at least from the perspective of a muggle. Pure beings, with magical powers that were said to grant a wish to fair maidens if they approached with a suitable offering. Of course, that ruled out all of them save for Hermione, not that she had a suitable offering to begin with. Still, the thought of seeing such a magnificent creature up close or even from far away was enough to still their fears. Maybe this was a chance to let them appreciate the wonders of the castle?
"Hagrid…" Mused Harry, thinking deep now. "Was there always a unicorn in the Forbidden Forest?" A good question, though Hermione though Ron gave a soft snort which, irritatingly, Draco had also given.
With a stern look at the two, Hagrid then turned to look down at Harry, big hand on his shoulder with what was hopefully a gentle pat. "Can't say there has been, Harry. Unicorns are strange folk, go where they want. Hogwarts has very powerful magic protecting it, so said Dumbledore but unicorns are older than that." For some reason, Harry thought of the gipsies.
"Are they like in the stories?" Hermione had mentally chastised herself. Even when magic, wands and spells going about, she had casually dismissed the notion of a unicorn as fantasy. Even magic had empirical concepts, easy to measure if one knew where to look. Unicorns being holy creatures? She wondered if there was a book on them.
"That depends on the stories." Mumbled Filch who was observing the edges of the forest with thinly veiled hostility.
Hagrid nodded, oddly solemn as he shouldered the crossbow and huffed with a soft exhale. The four huddled close. This was starting to feel less like a walk through the forest and more like a hunting trip.
Darkness clung to the very air, as if gripped by some otherworldly hand that refused to surrender the bounty of it's hold. Here, the fog was pervasive and their cloaks did precious little to keep the chill at bay despite their thick and woolly nature. Nothing could be heard, not the crickets that usually filled the branches and grounds of a forest as vast as this one. Not the midnight calls of owls and such creatures. The Forbidden Forest seemed to be holding its breath for… something. Expectant, seeming to believe that if nothing moved, whatever it was that caused this feeling of pervasive gloom would move on and let the denizens of the forest in peace.
Centaurs, wise and noble, huddled in their villages with fires lit before the posts of their gates, pungent herbs burning and filling the still air with the aroma of magic. One young colt detached from the huddled mass that was his family, hands on the windowsill of their wooden home. The night was dark and full of mystery, yet his hearts beat not with trepidation or fear. Rather, he felt excited. He had failed to comment such sensations to his elders lest they force him to imbibe sedatives and pass the night in dreamless sleep. A voice had said to keep quiet and wait for the moon to shine. Soon, it would.
A dull thumping, like the hooves of a mighty centaur kicking up loam from the forest floor. A drum beat of primal stimulation, the young foal's hearts beating harder and faster, propping his human half up and leaning out to see deeper into the forest. A glow, gleaming like molten silver dashed by in a fraction of the blink of an eye and a soft gasp escaped his lips.
Asleep, his family did not see the young foal leave the safety of their home, nor did they see him exit the protective border that was their walls and gates. Darkness plunged the deeper he went into the woods until even his centaur eyes could not pierce through the gloom. It was then that he felt a presence nearby. And it was also then that he realized he was lost. The fires of the village were nowhere to be seen, the foal feeling as if he had come out of the stupor of a trance. A nervous nicker escaped his lips, tail swishing about as he turned and froze.
Before him stood a unicorn. Fur of silvery white, a horn that spiraled out of its forehead with the sheen of pearl, tipped in a wickedly sharp point. Eyes of deep, glowing red seemed to observe the young foal and it was clear that he had made a terrible error in leaving his home. This being was mighty, the weight of ages laden on its shoulders and with a toss of its head it felt like time slowed to a crawl while it approached. Somewhere, somehow, the foal felt like he could hear a song. A voice calling out for him to come, to step forth and reach out for the benevolent gifts of the unicorn.
Light came from the being, shimmering in a lattice work of polychromatic beauty, rainbow streaming from the very tip of the horn and if the moon shone just right, it even seemed to be that a star dotted the sharp point. The forest was not so bad, after all. Life was good. A smile curled his lips as he did indeed step closer, small hooves trailing the fog of the floor as a hand reached out in supplication. The unicorn stared, rearing back in majesty, kicking at the air and giving a keening whinny that echoed throughout the entirety of the forest. There was only one, yet it sounded like several unicorns called out at the same time, each a different tone, harmonizing together and revealing the true majesty of the mythical creature.
The point aimed down towards him, glowing eyes judging and finding the poor youth lacking. Some could say that a unicorn was beautiful despite it's nature.
For the young centaur, it was the most terrifying thing he had ever seen in his short life.
White, silver, then the overwhelming red of those eyes.
Finally, darkness.
Stay tuned.
