A/N: I won't waste yours or my time explaining why it's been what, nearly six months?, since I last posted. I have no excuse beyond laziness and a lack of inspiration. But as I told the 145th review and a good friend, Ptronille, I won't abandon this story. If it takes me 'till I graduate college, I'll finish this story! I was going to hold off for another month and post this chapter on the one-year anniversary of the posting of the prologue, but a PM from a particular reader, GinnyPotter4evr, convinced me that it was time. So here it is, the chapter that I know I've been looking forward to for a while. Reviews, like tips, help "to insure prompt service" (as in, review and it might not be another eon before chapter fourteen, PSYCHOANALYSIS).
Chapter Thirteen: Animagi?
"What are you doing here?" Ron said as soon as he walked in to the transfiguration classroom three days after the meeting for the first animagus lesson of the year.
Ginny Weasley looked affronted. "Why shouldn't I be? I can be an animagus!"
"I didn't realize Professor Paxton was opening them to fifth years," Hermione commented, dumping her crammed book bag on a desk with a relieved expression.
"He didn't. Why did you bring your stuff?"
Hermione raised her eyebrow as if to say, "I was in the library, of course" while Harry scanned the room looking for the professor.
"So how are you here?" he asked distractedly. He was anxious to begin.
"This is their punishment for turning my daughters into squirrels and getting me stuck on the couch for three nights." James had appeared, looking a little disheveled. "Ron, the twins want to know what time you and Harry have to go to bed. Seven thirty, so you know." He turned just in time to see Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini walk into the room.
"Seeing a lot of him around, aren't we?" Ron whispered to Harry. "Which one of us is slipping?"
Ten minutes later, everyone had arrived and the class began.
"Welcome students, felons." James grinned at Luna and Ginny. "Great choice, taking this course. I'm actually surprised so few of you are here," he added, scanning the small group in front of him.
There were three Ravenclaws not including Luna, a sixth year, and two seventh years who looked interested in the theory, but the sixth year (Rebecca Beelson) looked positively terrified at the thought of changing into an animal. James would bet five days on the lumpy couch that none of them would be able to make the change.
The two Hufflepuffs in his seventh year NEWT class seemed more like animagus material. His eyes skimmed over Luna and Ginny, he knew they were future animagi, and focused on the only two Slytherins in the room.
James recognized the look on Blaise's face. It was the same expression Remus always wore when he and Sirius tricked him into pulling a prank with them. Obviously Blaise hadn't planned on showing up. That didn't bode well for his chances. Draco looked promising, however.
The four remaining Gryffindors, with perhaps the exception of Neville, seemed to be toss-ins.
Overall, a good catch.
"Today we are going to make sure you can all change. If you don't have a strong inner-animal, you can either leave or follow along with the theory, okay? Excellent. Ready to meet your animal?"
Hermione looked ready to jump out of her seat with excitement while Beelson went a sickly color green. James had to wonder what in the world she was doing here. Ravenclaws were a nutty bunch.
"There are two ways to find your inner-animal. Anyone know what they are?" Hermione's hand was in the air before anyone else could comprehend the question.
"The Aniraligrus potion, also know as the Animalistic potion," Hermione gushed, "will temporarily give you the identifying characteristics, both physical and psychological. It is considered beyond NEWT level because of the dangers if not brewed correctly. The second is more common, but less informative, the Intrabeastic-Revelio spell, rated at NEWT. It will show the caster a faint projection with only the simple physical attributes clearly visible."
The room was quiet for a couple of seconds, Harry because he hadn't heard Hermione's swallowed-the-textbook voice in public since somewhere around third year, the Ravenclaws in respect. Harry was willing to bet that they had only done some cursory reading. Ron seemed to be between grinning and revelry at his best friend's memory.
James didn't seem very surprised. The grin on his face flashed again. "Well done, Hermione. Fifteen points to Gryffindor. Now I don't know about you all, but I'm abysmal at potions." Draco's scoff was cut short by a threatening glare from both Harry and Ron. James hadn't seemed to notice. "So we will be doing the spell Miss Granger was so good as to tell us about. Yes, Mr. Simpson?"
The seventh year Hufflepuff put down his hand. He spoke with a strong Scottish accent. "What if we can't do the spell? Will Expecto Patronum tell us our shapes? If we have one," he added as an afterthought.
Harry's eyes snapped to James. Was his patronus his shape? Would he be Prongs like his father?
James perched himself on the corner of his desk. "Don't worry about the spell. If you don't get it before the end of class today, you can come to me anytime to practice. As for whether your patronus is your animal, not always."
"Why is that?" Harry broke in.
James glanced at his son. "A patronus is a protector, and therefore an embodiment of someone or something of a guardian, tailored to the caster. That's why more people can cast a patronus than can turn into animals. An animagus form, on the other hand, is a," he paused and rubbed his mouth, searching for the right words, "a personality.
"That's not to say some people have less of a personality than others," James clarified before Hermione could ask the question that Harry could see itching to come out. "Just that those with a shape are more set. At least that's the general consensus among transfiguration masters. There can be a hundred reasons why someone doesn't have an inner-animal, but the most common one is that he or she is mixed to the point that no animal really fits. The fit has to be perfect—give or take a few traits.
"I read once that only one in five wizards have a shape, so don't take it too hard, alright? Does that answer your question, Mr. Simpson? Mr. Potter?" Both of them nodded and Harry had to suppress a small smile at the obviously relieved expression that flashed across James' face before the usual relaxed humor could reappear.
"How will we know?" Patsy Campbell, one of the seventh year Ravenclaws asked before James could continue.
"Your spell. A strong inner-animal will appear semi-well defined, enough for you to know the species. If you are more mixed, you will only see the vaguest shape of the animal you most clearly match. You won't be able to make out the species, but you might be able to tell if it's a mammal or something. Anything else?" Everyone looked at each other, but no one spoke.
James waited another thirty seconds before hopping energetically off his desk. "Everyone up!" he ordered. Everyone sprang up from his or her desks without question. The last person who had hesitated in Professor Paxton's class had walked around with green hair for a couple of hours (or so the rumors went).
The transfigurations professor twitched his wand and all the desks turned into cushions that reminded Harry strongly of the Divination room. Another flick and the extra cushions were banished to the corners.
"No point in us being uncomfortable," James explained. "Pull up a pillow."
Everyone shuffled toward the twelve cushions arranged in a circle on the floor. Ron started to head to the biggest, but Hermione grabbed his arm and gave him a don't-even-think-about-it-Ronald look. He grinned sheepishly in reply before sitting down on the pillow to the right of Harry.
"The spell is Intralbeales Revelio. Pronounce it correctly or something nasty might happen." James' eyes sparkled as Beelson gulped and everyone shared nervous looks. "But that's only half the battle. You have to really think about yourself. I don't mean your looks," James glanced at Draco's almost impeccable appearance, "but more like the memories you think define you. This part of the spell is why it's rated NEWT level. Like the patronus charm, it uses the memories you've focused to shape your basic instincts, and thereby qualify your personality."
"So you can choose your form?" Neville spoke for the first time. His expression was determined and yet still confused.
James shook his head. "That's the brilliant thing about it. Intralbealistic-Revelio doesn't care about the memories themselves, but rather the reasons behind why you chose them specifically." James was looking at Harry now, some part of him willing his son to pay attention to his next words. "After all, the reasons behind actions make all the difference."
Harry shifted under James' brown stare and James returned to his senses.
"So it psychoanalyzes us?" Campbell interrupted.
James cocked his head slightly. "What?"
Campbell opened her mouth to explain, but Hermione jumped in first. "It is a muggle term. A muggle psychologist named Sigmund Freud tried to help his patients by interpreting their actions and/or responses to his questions. Among other things," she added timidly, suddenly embarrassed for interrupting Campbell.
James looked thoughtful. He answered slowly, "I suppose you could say that then."
"It's going to tell us we have mummy-issues?" Andy Russell, the other Hufflepuff and a muggle-born shot out.
Harry tried very hard to keep his snort of amusement inside, but only Hermione really managed to. Even the Slytherins cracked an, albeit very quick, smile. Ron, however, just looked confused.
"What has that got to do with your animagus form?" he asked.
All the muggle-borns and half-bloods raised in the muggle world shared surreptitious amusement, but only the ever-serious textbook, also known as Hermione, answered.
"Sigmund Freud is most famous for his theory that everything boils down to unfulfilled sexual needs or aggression, usually towards a parent or person of authority."
"That is ridiculous!" Draco cried, quite un-Malfoyishly, Harry noted.
"Well, yes, that is why most regard psychoanalysis as soft. Today it is all mostly done through the NeoFreudians."
"What's that?" Beelson asked. She looked a little less afraid now.
Hermione opened her mouth, but closed it with a sharp snap when James said, "As interesting as that is, we must press on. In answer to your question, Mr. Russell, no, the spell doesn't care if you want sex or something with your mother."
James waited until the room settled down again. He looked at his watch. "Take out your wand and try to cast the spell. Don't think of your memories until the spell is cast. You'll know when you've done it," he answered the unasked question.
They all looked surprised to be asked to perform the spell so quickly, especially Rebecca Beelson, but everyone did as their professor ordered.
Hermione was the first person to get it, not much of a surprised to anyone. She exhaled loudly, but slowly, and her eyes closed. Everyone stopped mumbling the incantation to watch.
Nothing happened for almost three minutes and then Hermione opened her eyes and stared straight ahead like a girl possessed, excitement decorating an otherwise blank face. At first no one noticed the glimmering in front of Hermione, but then Ginny squeaked in surprise and everyone saw it.
A form was molding out of silvery mist. It shimmered as a tail formed behind four legs and sharp ears grew out of a long head. The shape paced for a moment, showing its power. A slow minute later, as smoothly as it had come, the wolf disappeared.
OOOOOOO
Draco Malfoy was next. His face wasn't as tranquil as Hermione's had been. It was stronger and it looked like he was struggling before he suddenly relaxed. A moment later, his eyes were open and once again, a silvery fog formed into a dancing creature. A snake with a diamond head slithered around Draco's head, its strong muscles pumping without visible effort.
Almost before the snake faded, Patsy Campbell went into the meditative state. She didn't stay there as long as Draco or Hermione, and when she broke from the trance, only swirling light met her disappointed gaze. It writhed in the air for a long time before fading in defeat, but no one noticed. They were too busy watching the Boy-Who-Lived.