A/N: A little later than usual today. Ah, well. Enjoy! Oh! And thanks for all the lovely reviews! I seriously don't say that enough, but you guys are awesome!
Not one but two new Educational Decrees were posted within the next few days, just as Link was beginning to practice the actual spellwork involved in becoming an animagus. He had only recently finished Sirius' book, the odd urgency he'd felt lessened but still present after its completion. It was such a bizarre, out-of-place feeling that Link was certain it was the will of the Goddesses that he train in this type of magic. Complex though it might be, he was sure he could accomplish the transformation within a few weeks if he worked hard enough. It would mean sacrificing his work in other areas, but the low-key anxiety was so pervasive he was sure it would be worth it just to rid himself of the feeling.
His friends ambushed him in the Room of Requirement just as a short Latin phrase spilled from his lips, and Link was left covered in thick fur from wrist to elbow as Hermione shoved two notices under his nose. One forbid the presence of the Quibbler in Hogwarts' walls, while the other allowed Umbridge the authority to override other teachers' punishments with her own.
Ron poked at the pale gray fur as Hermione huffed, "We'll leave the one about the Quibbler alone, obviously."
"Obviously?" Harry looked her askance.
"Yes, obviously," Hermione smiled smugly. "There is no better way to have ensured everyone read it."
Link wasn't entirely sure he followed that line of logic, but accepted it as one of those strange quirks that came with such free trade of information. Like the need to write opinions that came with widespread literacy. Or maybe it was the same in Hyrule and he'd not noticed before. Link thought back, recalling vaguely when the King tried banning all talk of Zelda's magical birthright. Though she'd been barely twelve at the time, everyone had instantly wanted to know why they weren't to speak of it, which meant everyone whispered about it. In under a fortnight the whole of Castle Town had known that Zelda had been unable to access her sealing magic, and the King had lifted the ban out of sheer inability to enforce it.
Okay, so maybe he did follow.
"Think about how nasty she'll be if we let her take over 'administering discipline,'" Hermione continued, speaking the phrase Umbridge had first used with a lightly mocking air about her. "She's already really unfair. Anyone that's got parents working in the Ministry she turns a blind eye to."
Ron and Harry both straightened, eager smiles painted across their faces. "Does this mean-?"
"Oh yes," she nodded. "Though I don't think we'll need an actual note this time." Hermione paused, then frowned. "Link, have you noticed you've got a tail?"
A mirror helpfully appeared right behind the hylian. All three boys looked toward the base of his spine, where a fluffy tail was indeed wagging happily. Ron snorted.
Hmm. That could be a problem.
They made plans to leave a solitary black quill on Umbridge's desk, enchanted to look like her blood-letting ones in appearance only, with a copy of the second notice. Though Link was unhappy about it, they'd also voted he stay in the Room until he sort out his extra appendage as, now they'd noticed it, the tail was extremely distracting. While the hylian was certain he could get in and out of Umbridge's office despite it, Hermione was particularly insistent he not take the risk. "Besides, Merlin forbid you shed in there," she sniffed, only partially in humor. "That fur can be traced back to you."
Link felt he ought to be offended. The beast he half was snarled unkindly, and the hylian felt the tail still.
Hermione armed herself with a plethora of disenchantments, counter-jinxes, and identifying spells while Harry slipped Sirius' penknife into his pocket. Ron opened the Marauder's Map and ducked under the Cloak when the green-eyed wizard lifted it for him, and the folds of it draped back down, leaving toes visible but nothing else.
"It's a bit cramped in here," Ron said, voice floating disconcertingly from empty air. The Map rustled faintly as the three perused it.
"Well she's not in her office. Let's get going," Harry's voice came next.
"Don't worry, Link," Hermione offered kindly, "we'll be careful."
Link waved them off with a soft growl of distaste at his own inaction and had to pull himself further from the door to stop from following along, some lupine instinct urging him to guard his allies. The trio weren't helpless, he firmly reminded himself, and he was no rookie knight that thought he must accomplish everything on his own. (Ganon was an exception. And Zelda had been vital at the end anyway. Teamwork and delegation and whatnot. Right.)
The beast remained unsettled, and Link's lips curled in a displeased snarl.
The hylian all but ripped open the animagus book, distracting himself by figuring out where he'd gone wrong. It couldn't be that difficult. The spell was complex, yes, but surprisingly short. It was probably just some word he'd mispronounced, or some nuance of wand motion he'd failed to grasp. A little fur wouldn't take that long to get rid of.
He didn't make it to class for three days.
Umbridge had sacked Trelawney. Link didn't know much about the divination teacher aside from her penchant for dramatics, but there was no way she deserved to be treated as the toad-woman treated her. The poor woman had been reduced to tears as the ministry witch flung her belongings at her with violent little flicks of her wand, appearing intent on driving Trelawney out with twisted enjoyment lining every inch of her face.
Something very wolfish and wild, still lingering close to the surface from Link's failed transformation, growled low in his chest. Until now it had been manageable, dismissed with little effort. Now however, he stalked through the Great Hall, past the growing crowd of students, something low and threatening urging him on. Umbridge had always been a nuisance, but here she was now, practically attacking another member of the faculty, a violence that had and could again be turned on his charge. That made her a threat.
He stopped in front of the toad-woman, white teeth with just a hint of fang bared, and an audible snarl tore from his throat. A dark curl of satisfaction warmed his gut when something close to fear entered her gaze.
It was very fortunate that McGonagall intervened in that moment, as Link came frighteningly close to doing something he would later regret. The transfiguration professor leaned in close as she brushed by. "If you require assistance with your transfiguration, Mr. Hyrule, you need only ask," she whispered before adding more loudly, "Now I must ask you to please step aside." Without further ado, the stern professor knelt by Trelawny, placing a supportive hand on her shoulder.
Link bristled, but turned away from the scene, following Hermione's urgent waving to the side of the Great Hall.
"What were you thinking?" she hissed, but had time for no more than that as Dumbledore finally made his appearance. Umbridge's cruel sneer faded to outrage when the elder wizard offered Trelawney her rooms in the castle and overrode the toad-woman's every protest with the ease of long practice in dealing with the weak-minded.
He calmly circumvented Umbridge's final obstacle by presenting a new teacher the moment Trelawney was aided in returning to her suite.
By introducing their newest professor, Firenze.
All Link herd was the stamping of hooves, sharp against the stone floor, and he'd whipped around. A powerful torso sat proudly atop four legs, coated in tawny fur, and the hylian's first thought was 'Lynel, the man's brought a Goddess-forsaken lynel into the castle-"
Link's gaze darkened. He barely remembered moving. For that matter, he barely remembered falling. Hermione had seen the fierce intent threaded throughout his entire being and had reacted with a lightning-fast trip-jinx that sent Link sprawling to the floor, hand twisted painfully where it caught in his pack as he'd reached for the Master Sword.
It was enough to jar him back to his senses. The small group of students around them gawked at the display, the rest too distracted by Dumbledore's introduction of the centaur standing in the middle of the Great Hall to notice. Powerful, yes. But sleek and refined and intelligent in ways that lynels simply weren't. The centaur - Firenze, Link recalled dimly - turned straight toward him and bright blue eyes met blue.
Link was caught in that intense stare for a long moment, horrified, because what the hell was wrong with him? It was one thing for added worry about his friends to make his control slip a little. This was something else entirely.
The students between them shifted, blocking out the centaur's gaze. "Link?" Hermione asked warily, pulling him to his feet. "Are you alright? What was that?"
The hylian shook his head, murmured a vague apology in her direction, and fled.
The following couple of days passed without much of note; Harry reported no unusual dreams beyond a single recurrence of the corridor at the Ministry, which they all hoped meant his occlumency was going well. Research had once more stalled. No sudden tests or outbursts or new Educational Decrees hindered them at all, which left Link plenty of time to fret over his disastrous animagus training.
Link had eventually slunk into McGonagall's office, following her whispered suggestion in the Great Hall, shamefaced and a little scared. The witch given him a severe look and warned him of his greatest failing; he was falling prey to his animal's instincts. "The point," she'd said stiffy, "is to retain the human mind, not succumb to the beast's." What followed were several pointed instructions on how not to lose his mind to primal instinct, a feat that had planted a firm wall in his progress.
He was unashamedly afraid to lose himself again.
Link ardently stuck to bookwork for a solid three weeks, searching with a frenzied intensity for any more mention of gateways or dementors in relation to them. But without any success to speak of, there was little to distract him from that urgent anxiety that filled him whenever he so much as thought the word 'animagus.' The longer he procrastinated, the worse it got, until finally he broke down and hesitantly tried once again to transform.
"Keep in your mind everything that makes you human, everything that separates you from an animal. You are a wizard, not a beast." He repeated McGonagall's words to himself over and over, holding in his heart thoughts of Zelda, of Hyrule, of those lost and those to be gained, but he quickly realized those thoughts were wrong. Animals could love and grieve and share affection as surely as any human; it was in a wolf's nature, as pack animals and monogamous mates. It was in their instincts to care for their own as surely as it was to protect their pack or hunt their prey.
So Link thought of rules, of holding himself back and keeping himself restrained. Of long hours training to perfect his craft. The feel of a blade rubbing callouses into his hands, the soft leather of reins and the stiffer hide of a saddle as he rode behind his princess. He thought of kings and castles and duty passed through the ages and into legend. Of armor that guarded him from the world, and machines that let him manipulate it.
His next attempt went a little easier. The next even easier, until the wolf retreated from the fore of his mind and once again Link could relax into the familiarity of practice and hard work.
By the time the next DA meeting rolled around Link had stuck himself with furry ears, a tail, and a set of wicked fangs that made it particularly difficult to speak, and was once more hiding in the Room of Requirement. Hermione had insisted on this precaution, primarily because if Umbridge suspected Link of attempting an illegal animagus transformation, she could get him arrested. Thankfully, the beast seemed to have been calmed, and no violent impulse needed restraining at the thought of the toad-woman.
"Do it again," Lee said, fascinated, as the rest of the DA snuck their way into the Room. Link bared his fangs and the boy shook his head in morbid interest. "You look just like a shark with those teeth, mate." Link poked at one of his fangs and wondered absently what Sidon would think.
Fred and George cackled gleefully. They had better not give him fins next, or so help him he was dunking them in the lake.
Link had ended up brainstorming with Harry and Hermione for suggestions on how to simulate a live battle with little risk of real injury. He'd thought perhaps having the students combat each other in teams using disarming charms and stinging hexes might work, but Hermione thought they should work their way up to firing live spells like that. Get them used to dodging and blocking first.
The Hylian hadn't been so sure. Harry had them practicing shield spells, in particular Protego, for a few weeks in February, and stinging hexes were only a little painful, not dangerous. The added threat of real pain helped drive home the relative seriousness of these exercises too, and added incentive for better performance. Hermione had scrunched her nose at that and Link wondered if perhaps it was her own reluctance to get hit that gave her such a dislike for the idea.
Harry had wound up suggesting a compromise in the form of dodgeball, to which the Room had summoned a plethora of soft balls for the students to throw at each other. Their last DA meeting had consisted of Harry explaining the rules of the game to a crowd of over two-dozen skeptical witches and wizards, with Link adding that shield charms and disarming spells were acceptable, but no others.
The result? Instant chaos. The game itself had lasted about an hour; the rest of the time had been devoted to imparting tips and advice about spatial awareness and dodging efficiently in place of the more ennergy-consuming and less reliable shields, with enough practical work thrown in to exhaust everyone. They'd ended up overrunning that part of the meeting, and had to pass on practicing a spell everyone had been eager to continue working on, and one Harry had only just started teaching them that March.
Sneaking the students back to their respective dorms that night had been a real pain.
Tonight fared little better, and Link was just thinking that stinging hexes would be a necessary motivator when Harry called a halt to their practice. Finally, they were getting back to the lessons that had everyone so eager.
The Patronus.
Link had no idea what that even was when they'd first started learning, but the others had all been very impressed by Harry's ability with the spell, so it must have been fairly difficult. And then he'd displayed a stunning silver stag...
A goat, a serpent, a bird, and an ape flashed through his mind, massive and luminescent. Link had shaken his head, clearing it of the distraction to focus on Harry's beautiful spellwork. The light spirits felt important in that same vague way his fragments of memory of the Hero of Twilight did, but Link simply didn't know enough to understand why.
Link shifted his focus back to the present. Honestly, when the hylian first learned the patronus was meant to drive away dementors he'd thought to retreat to a corner to continue work on his animagus transformation, but curiosity had eventually won out.
He tapped his wand hopefully against the fangs lining his mouth, acutely relieved when they flattened a little. It felt bizarre, but he could speak like this. Probably.
The hylian closed his eyes, summoning the memory of his and Zelda's wedding, feeling a pleasant warmth circling his heart. "Expecto Patronum!" he murmured. A shining mist spewed forth from his wand, but no creature. Link wondered what he was doing wrong.
"What memory were you thinking of?" Harry asked quietly, nearly drowned out by the sound of casting students. A few silvery animals gamboled about, swiping at puffs of mist issued forth by those that had yet to succeed.
"My wedding," Link replied with a slight frown.
Harry blinked, looking just as consternated. "Aren't weddings happy? I mean, you looked happy when you showed us that photo of your wife."
Link hummed thoughtfully. Maybe that was it. He was happy whenever he was with Zelda, but their wedding... well, it had been rushed. Neither of them had been quite ready, but Zelda had bowed to the pressures exerted by those that recalled the old ways. Her blood was that of Hylia, and even if she hadn't cared to observe all of their century-gone traditions, continuing her line was paramount. If the blood of the Goddess was lost, there would be nothing to stand in the way of Ganon's next rise. It was the sole rule that no one had been willing to compromise.
Point being, for the security of the country, Zelda needed an heir. For that, she needed a husband. The severity of this rule was such that no coronation could take place with her unwed.
Link's position as Hero worked well for him there. He had been the only person in existence with ties to every chieftan or equivalent thereof in every race, and had gained allies in every town. There had been no one better suited for the role of king consort than he. And so they'd married, Zelda had been crowned Queen, and she had extended to him the authority of an actual King so that they could rule on equal terms. It had all looked very nice on paper, and indeed events had worked out quite well in the end.
They just hadn't been ready at the time.
Perhaps it was that lingering recollection of fear and uncertainty that was tainting his spellwork now, Link mused, lupine ears pinning back. It felt so silly now, but at the time they'd been terrified of the changes that would be wrought by such a step.
A different memory then. Link thought back, to that shining moment of victory when the Dark Beast had been defeated and Zelda had descended from incorporeal light. He'd held her in his arms for the first time in a century, filled to the brim with relief-happiness-love at her slight but very real presence. The dirt and grime and exhaustion of the fierce battle had been forgotten by her mere presence. She had been there, whole and healthy and alive, and every wish he'd had since waking in the Shrine had seemed possible in that moment.
Link smiled. "Expecto Patronum!" he called, voice light with confidence, and bright silver splashed from his wand, swirling into the shape of a massive bird. It circled overhead once before landing in front of him, looming over the hylian with its massive bulk. Its fluffy tail curled over its back as the bird clicked its thick beak, massive wings furling at its sides.
He'd never seen such a creature, but something about it seemed familiar nonetheless. Link raised his hand, fingers skimming over the bird's long neck and tingling with the power of his patronus. It leaned into the touch, though in all likelihood the bird couldn't even feel it. Link's smile widened.
'Hello again, old friend.'
That was when things went very, very wrong.
Harry had wandered off while Link had been concentrating, and was now the center of a small commotion by the door. Link could hear a high-pitched voice wail something about 'her' through the murmuring crowd, but Harry's next bellow was perfectly audible.
"RUN!"
Link hung back as the DA scattered in a panicked evacuation of the Room, casting his gaze about for anything incriminating. His gaze alighted on the Army's sign-up sheet, pinned conspicuously to the wall. He cursed, snagging the parchment just as Hermione yanked him toward the door. It tore, leaving only fragments still tacked to the wall. Link hoped there was nothing important remaining there.
"Where's Harry?" Link asked the bushy-haired witch as they pelted outside. Ron was halfway down the hall already, but the green-eyed wizard was nowhere to be seen.
"I don't know!" her sharp brown eyes panned along the corridor. "There!" she exclaimed, just in time to see the wizard trip over thin air. Harry turned the motion into a neat, practiced somersault and was up off the floor in a heartbeat, pelting full-tilt down the hall and out of sight. A familiar, pasty blond lurched out of hiding after him, a poorly-aimed spell flying from his wand. Malfoy careened down the corridor after the Boy-Who-Lived, but it was clear he wasn't fast enough to keep up.
"Come on," Link urged, slipping his hand in the girl's and pulling her along. If Umbridge had recruited students to do her dirty work, then there were likely others lying in wait. The hylian crammed the parchment into his pack as they ran, fishing around for Harry's cloak in the same motion. The silken material fell into his hand, the korok's enchantments holding true, and he swung the cloak over their heads. It draped over them neatly and the duo vanished from sight.
Harry panted as he entered the common room a couple hours later, hair windswept and eyes a little wild. He'd booked it there straight from the Headmaster's office.
An anxious Hermione rose immediately from her seat by the fire. Link glanced up sharply, lupine ears perking. Harry resisted the urge to laugh at him, instead welcoming Hermione's powerful hug. He could all but see the questions just waiting to be fired.
"Where were you mate?" Ron beat her to the punch. "We've been waiting ages!"
"You won't believe this," Harry breathed, "but Umbridge actually got the Minister here."
"What?!" Hermione gasped.
He nodded. "She sent Filch after me. He was waiting just outside the bathroom door," he explained briefly. He'd hidden inside for a solid twenty minutes. Malfoy had run straight past the door, but had likely been the one to tell Umbridge he'd seen him leaving the Room of Requirement. After the Slytherin's failure she'd sent Filch instead, and the foul-tempered caretaker had dragged him straight to Dumbledore's office.
"Fudge asked all sorts of questions about the DA," Harry couldn't resist grinning, "but Dumbledore headed him off. He couldn't do a thing! Umbridge nearly threw a fit. The most she could accuse me of was running through the corridors." As mad as he still was at the Headmaster, watching him calmly railroad over Umbridge and the Minster had been awesome.
"Since when is a school group important to the Minster for Magic?" Ron squawked in the same instant Hermione asked, "But how did they know?"
Harry's smile dimmed. "Marietta Edgecombe," he scowled. "She ratted us out." He paused slightly before adding, "Nice jinx by the way."
Hermione looked taken aback. "Thank you. But... that jinx doesn't stop people from talking altogether. Did she have second thoughts?"
Harry frowned. "I don't think so... I think Kingsley might have jinxed her, but she didn't say a word."
"Kingsley was there too?" Hermione asked in alarm.
"Fudge brought him and another auror."
"Were they hoping to arrest you?" Ron gawked. "Blimey, mate. Umbridge is off her nut if she thinks that'll fly over a school club of all things. So's Fudge." Especially now that the Quibbler article had been read by so many. Harry had far more supporters amongst the wizarding community than he thought. No longer was the Prophet able to get away with flatly calling him mad. The number of readers that supported that nonsense had since dropped sharply, and Harry was gratified to hear about the number of complaints the paper had been receiving over the whole mess.
"More like Dumbledore," Hermione scowled. "I bet you anything they were hoping for evidence of their wild theory that he's building an army here."
"And they thought they could arrest him? With two aurors?" Ron shook his head incredulously.
"Good that they didn't find anything then," Harry said dryly. "The only thing left in the Room was a bit of parchment that said 'Dumb-' stuck to the wall. Well, that and a bunch of Defense books, but they can't tell me off for studying, and they didn't catch anyone else."
Hermione sighed in relief.
"What about our meetings then?" Ron asked mournfully.
"The Room's been compromised," Link pointed out and Harry jumped. He'd almost forgot the elfin blond was there. "There isn't anywhere else such a large group can discreetly practice, is there?"
Hermione shook her head. "Not on Hogwarts' grounds. Not that I'm aware of, at any rate."
Harry felt his mood sink at that. The DA had been one of the few things that made Hogwarts worth returning to this year. If they were forced to disband, he didn't know what he'd do with himself. His only other outlet was Quidditch, but with Ron having such a bad time of it, the sport wasn't quite as fun this year either.
"I guess they're cancelled," Harry groused.
Link shot him a considering look. "You could always join me," he offered, holding up the mysterious book that had appeared in his belongings over the holidays. "Snuffles was hoping you'd be interested."
"In becoming animagi?" Hermione asked, disinterested. She was not overly fond of animals outside Crookshanks, Harry mused. If she were going to attempt the transformation, it would be more out of scholarly curiosity than anything else.
"Oh yeah," Ron perked up a bit. "Didn't Si- uh, Snuffles and your dad become animagi in their fifth year?"
Harry eyed Link's lupine tail warily as it swayed back and forth. "Yeah. D'you think it would be useful?" Only, Harry didn't really want to end up with extra limbs for months on end while figuring it out. He got enough stares as it was.
"More useful are your occlumency lessons," Hermione threw in bossily. "How are they coming along?"
The green-eyed wizard resisted the urge to groan. "I think Snape's making it worse." Every time he thought he had a handle on his emotions, Snape would attack his mind with legilimency and Harry would be left with a pounding headache. Mondays and Wednesdays after his "lessons" were the worst. The dreams were more intense then, and Harry couldn't fathom that they were actually helping. He got more use out of Link's breathing exercises. "I've been having dreams almost every night lately."
Hermione looked alarmed.
"I'd be interested in becoming an animagus!" Ron interrupted loudly, cutting through the discomforting turn the conversation had taken.
"Ron, you can't even conjure a teacup yet," Hermione sniffed. "Besides, Angelina's been wanting to put in a few more hours of practice a week. I think she might actually be planning it right now." Harry wasn't sure if he should feel insulted or not that she'd do such a thing mere hours after the Room had been compromised.
The redhead wilted. "What's the use?" he moaned. "I'm terrible. It'll be a miracle if we win the Cup, great seeker or not."
Harry felt simultaneously warmed by the compliment and upset at Ron's defeated slump, but there was not much more he could say. They'd been going over this since Ron joined the team, it felt like, and Harry wouldn't be very surprised if Ron finally quit, as he'd been perilously close to doing for months now. "You just need a bit more confidence, is all," he tried half-heartedly.
Ron, if at all possible, sunk even further into his seat. "What's there to be confident of? You heard her," he waved offhandedly in Hermione's direction, "I'm not much good at anything, am I?" he asked bitterly.
Hermione sat ramrod straight in alarm. "I said no such thing!" she sputtered. "If you just applied yourself a bit more... and, like Harry said, had a bit more confidence... I'm sure you'd be flying a lot better!"
She didn't sound any more convincing than Harry had. "Right." Ron drooped, slinging his schoolbooks over his shoulder. He dragged his feet all the way to the boys' dorms.
The three watched him go in silence. Harry sighed deeply. "I think I'm headed to bed too," he said drearily. Whatever good cheer remaining had vanished with Ron, and there was no way he was going to be able to focus on homework now.
It had been an exhausting day. In no time at all, Harry was fast asleep, dreams taking him far away, to a glass-filled room in the Department of Mysteries...