CHAPTER SEVEN
Icarus crashes into his father's office like a hurricane.
"Da," he cries, running up to his desk and planting both hands on it, "tell me the truth. Are you sick?"
Severus looks up slowly from the essay he's grading.
"No," he says, carefully, "what would make you think that?"
Icarus rummages through his bag and pulls out the Walkman.
"Because - because -" he waves his hands, keeping a careful hold of the equipment, "how else would you explain this?"
Severus blinks.
"It's your…birthday present."
"Da," Icarus says, "you brought me a violin at Christmas. What's wrong?"
"Are you saying you don't want it?"
Icarus clutches it to his chest, horrified.
"I never said that."
"Then I don't - why does something have to be wrong?"
"Because…" Icarus pauses, searching for the words, "because you don't - all of my other birthday gifts are secondhand!"
Severus is looking at him like he's an idiot. He probably sounds like one.
"If you have to know," he says, after a moment, "I received my ten-year raise."
Icarus eyes him suspiciously.
"How much?"
"Four hundred."
"Galleons?"
"No," Severus says drily, "sickles, dipshit."
"But you got me A night at the Opera?"
They stare at each other for a very long minute. Then Severus launches from his chair. Icarus does the smart thing - and runs.
…
He carefully extracts the mandrake leaf from under his tongue and stuffs it in the phial. It's a pleasant, cool night with very little cover from the clouds - dangerous, of course, if he hadn't been wearing a disillusionment charm.
Then, gently, he adds two strands of his hair, a teaspoon measurement of dew, and the death–head chrysalis.
"Ok," he breathes, sealing the phial, "that's done, then."
"It is, is it?"
His heart does something funny in his chest as he feels the disillusionment charm unravel. Very slowly, he rises from where he's sat and turns around, hiding the phial behind his back.
"Professor," he squeaks.
Professor Karim raises a brow, his white and gold robes fluttering around his legs.
"It isn't like you to be caught, Mr. Sørensen," he says softly, "I trust it was worth it?"
Definitely not, Icarus thinks, embarrassed.
"That will be five points from Slytherin," Professor Karim says, "usually I would deduct more, but I cannot deny that I'm…curious. What is it that you're attempting?"
Icarus hesitates. If the phial's confiscated, he'd have to start all over again - and take further precautions not to get caught. On the other hand…
"Mr. Sørensen," Professor Karim steps forward, frowning, "unless you are attempting dark magic, I -"
"It'sananimaguspotion," Icarus blurts, ears burning.
Professor Karim stares at him for a very long time. Then, impossibly, starts to smile.
"Really?"
Icarus nods - he has dimples - and pulls it out from behind his back.
"Are you - are you going to confiscate it?"
"Well," Professor Karim is still smiling, "I'm supposed to. But I won't."
Icarus frowns.
"You forget I taught at Uagadou before coming here," Professor Karim says, "most students, by the time they've reached they're third year, either are animagi or are on their way to becoming one. Though I am admittedly not familiar with the European process, you are an exceptional student and I see no reason to interfere with any attempt to further your education."
"Shouldn't you -" Icarus starts, "shouldn't you be telling me that it's too dangerous, or something?"
"It is if it goes wrong," Professor Karim says, clasping his hands behind him, smile fading, "and as a precaution, I would like to accompany you when the storm arrives."
"Oh," Icarus swallows, tucking the phial into his pocket and not quite believing his luck, "I - ok."
"Now I suggest getting back to your dormitory before Mr. Filch catches you," Professor Karim says, suddenly stern, "or Professor McGonagall, for that matter."
The weeks following pass in a haze of disbelief and uncertainty. Most days, it took Icarus all he had to convince himself that the night hadn't been some sort of lucid dream. Until the first crackle of thunder shakes the castle on an otherwise quiet April afternoon.
Professor Karim finds him before he has a chance to run to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
"Ready?" he asks, grinning like a child.
Icarus fingers the phial in his pocket and finds himself smiling back. They slip out of the castle through a hidden entrance on the east corridor and dart across the fields to the forest, cloaks raised as a shield from the rain. He leads them through the trees to a wide clearing a little ways away from the lake.
"Well," Icarus gasps, voice drowned out by the storm, "here goes nothing."
He recites the incantation, wand pressed against his heart, and swallows the contents of the phial. For a moment, nothing happens and he feels the beginning of panic stir in his chest - if it'd gone wrong -
He doubles over, a soundless scream ripping from his lungs as pain ignites every nerve ending and another heartbeat slams against his chest. An image flutters its way through his brain - some sort of large black cat, with two tails - and then he feels his body stretch and lengthen and suddenly it's over.
He blinks the rain from his eyes, much lower to the ground than he's used to, and turns in a clumsy circle. Professor Karim's by the edge of the clearing, sheltering by the trees. He's saying something but Icarus isn't sure what and then he leaps forward and transforms…into an antelope.
Taller than whatever Icarus is by far, he runs a circle around him, looks back, and darts off into the forest.
When they stumble back into the castle, human again and sopping wet, Icarus takes one look at Professor Karim and bursts into giggles.
"What?" Professor Karim asks, pushing his hair from his face.
"N-nothing, nothing," Icarus manages, "I just can't believe it worked."
"I, for one, am glad it did," Professor Karim sighs, "I would've been in so much trouble if it hadn't."
From the look on his face a second later, he hadn't realized he'd said it out loud. Icarus' giggles evolve into full-blown, rib-aching laughter.