Summary: Whoever thought showing a boggart to emotionally unstable adolescents was a good idea should seriously rethink their lesson plans. (Harry Potter au)
The third year Gryffindors and Slytherins filed into their Defense Against The Dark Arts class with high hopes for the second trimester. Although it was Professor Morrison's first year teaching at Hogwarts, he'd already proven himself to be far more capable than those who had come before. For one, he was about a decade younger than most of them, though his thinning cornstarch hair and the burgeoning wrinkles around his eyes suggested otherwise. He also never talked down to his students, never treated them like they were anything less than the gifted witches and wizards they each strived to be, and centered his curriculum on a less traditional, more hands-on approach.
The classroom's outer wall was decorated with hanging jars of formaldehyde, each containing the preserved carcass of a magical creature, some of which they'd seen brought into the class and studied. In one jar, there appeared to be an unborn fetus of a fish creature that floated within the glass, its eyes closed as though resting. Its head was bald, and a little too flat and long to be mistaken for human, though the tentacles stemming from its lower half would have certainly given that away.
Strange as it was, Genji would have much preferred to see the creature alive. However, as that would have required jumping into the Great Lake and deliberately putting himself within stabbing range of aquatic warriors that were known to be territorial… Well, it was safe to say that he was content with seeing if Professor Morrison had planned any future lessons around them at some point over the course of the year.
There were no chairs for them to sit in this time, so the students remained standing in haphazard, shaky rows, while their professor stood beside an antique armoire that shook like something or someone was trapped inside.
Genji snagged a free spot beside the American transfer student, Jesse McCree. Although he wore the red and gold robes customary to Gryffindor, there were high leather boots on his feet that pretty clearly violated Hogwarts dress code. He'd at least removed the spurs, though, as they'd continuously gotten caught in the hem of his robes. He'd first arrived from IIvermorny with a Stetson on his head, but a certain Slytherin prefect had drawn the line at the hat and confiscated it. To be honest, Genji was still working on trying to get it back.
Recognizing him, McCree flashed him a wide, excited grin before returning his attention to the the shuddering armoire. Once they were all settled, Morrison asked, "Could any of you tell me what a boggart is?"
A cheerful voice coming from McCree's opposite side piped up, "It's a magical creature that takes on the form of our worst fears, Professor." Craning his neck to catch side of her, Genji raised a brow at the shorthaired young witch. He didn't remember Lena entering the classroom with them. Was she late? If so, then Morrison hadn't commented on it.
It was a sentiment McCree echoed eloquently. "Now just wait a doggone minute- When the blazes did she get here?!"
Their professor whistled low, offering Lena a tired look of approval. "Excellent, Oxton. Five points to Gryffindor." She puffed up her chest, preening under the praise.
"Now," Morrison continued, straightening from his relaxed slouch as he began to address the entire class, "there's a spell I'm going to show that works wonders with a boggart. It's called, Ridikulous." He swished his wand through the movements, which were simple enough to remember. Whereas some spells required precision, this one was more reliant on the thought behind it. If the students didn't believe it would work, it wouldn't. "Repeat that a few times without your wands."
He waited until they'd completed the exercise before explaining that the key to getting rid of a boggart was laughter, the very opposite of fear. "When you can force it to assume the shape of something that will make you laugh, that's when you've won." There was something to be said for the acoustics in the classroom, since he hardly seemed to raise his voice a decibel above the average speaking volume, and yet everyone in the room could hear him as clearly as if he were standing right next to them.
Hands clasped behind his back, Morrison called Jesse McCree to the front of the class, but since he was already standing at the front, the rest of the students did him the favor of taking a large step back. Upon seeing that even Lena and Genji had followed suit, Jesse shot them a wounded look of betrayal, which admittedly did make Genji feel a pang of guilt, though it wasn't anywhere near enough to convince him to volunteer alongside him, or worse, take his place. Instead, Genji responded with a small shrug and silently wished him the best.
Going by the stricken expression on the American boy's face, it did nothing to lessen his feelings of abandonment.
"Alright," Morrison started, either ignoring or oblivious to his bellyaching, "what are you most afraid of?"
Sliding into the spotlight with a showman's ease, Jesse shucked off his nerves and let loose a charming grin, "I reckon nothin' much, Sir, 'cept maybe homework." The class tittered, letting out much of their apprehension in the brief sound, which was already a step in the right direction.
"Alright, class, settle down." Placing a heavy hand on Jesse's shoulder, Morrison steered him towards the armoire. "Hold onto the image of what you are most afraid of, and then on the count of three, I want you," leaning in close, the professor whispered his instructions into McCree's ear. Whatever he said, the boy brightened, his spine straightening as he leveled his wand at the dusty antique.
While the entire class watched in anticipation, Morrison counted to three, his pale blue eyes shining a little brighter, and then with a swift flick of his wand, the wardrobe's metal knob jerked to the right, and the door slowly began to swing open, all the while issuing an ominous creak that sent chills through the students.
A long, low warning hisss issued from the crack, followed by a pair of slitted eyes that glowed like fire pits from out of the darkness. Soon, a giant rattlesnake, its flat head rising until it towered over the entire class, had uncoiled from the wardrobe. On its head rested a stetson with a leather cord tied around its cap, there were spurs tied around its tail, and from its needle-thin fangs dripped tendrils of yellowish poison.
Gritting his teeth, Jesse readjusted his grip on his wand, but the snake must have assumed he was hesitating, because it threw its head back with a sibilant cackle. Then with a voice like tar and oil, it sneered, "Ya think yer better than us cuz' ya know a few parlor tricks now, boy?"
Quietly, Morrison urged him to cast the spell, but McCree wasn't paying attention to him, anymore. His focus was entirely on the snake. Though his face was paler than a sheet, something hard and cold with hate came over him. "It ain't parlor tricks," Jesse growled, and a blasting curse flew from his wand, setting the snake's tail alight. "And I am better than you."
Though it was clear that his turn was over, there was not a hint of laughter in the room when McCree turned his back on the creature's agonized thrashing to rejoin the class.
Morrison frowned. "That wasn't quite what I was expecting, but since it was your first try I'll let it slide. Next time, though, try using the spell I taught you." Louder, he said, "To the rest of you, get in a single file line and, for Merlin's sake, think of something funny!"
They struggled to form a line, like a giant centipede with legs that pushed and shoved and tripped over themselves. A girl in pigtails was pushed to the front, and the snake spun into a tight ball, before springing outwards in the form of a massive mosquito.
Stumbling back a step, the girl cried out, "Ridikulous!" and the insect became a hummingbird tooting kazoo sounds into the air. She giggled, and it caught like a flame, setting off the entire class. It wasn't long until the first turn was forgotten, buried by tap dancing spiders and a crocodile that could do ballet.
Then Lena stepped up, bouncing on her heels with excitement. The boggart condensed, spun, providing glimpses of all the myriad of phobias and anxieties it was surrounded by, and when it finally decided on a form, standing before Lena was none other than a mirror image of herself.
If there were a record playing it would have scratched, because the confusion brewing crowded out much of the cheer, though Morrison simply looked exasperated by the latest hiccup in what was supposed to be a fun lesson. At first, the mirror Lena was content to merely mimic her movements, but gradually her form became indistinct, flickering in and out of existence with a silent scream.
The true Lena couldn't look away from the scene, couldn't lift her arm or move her lips to form a spell that had been wiped entirely from her mind. Eventually, the Gryffindor prefect, Fareeha Amari, tried to pull her gently to the back of the line, but Lena shrugged her off, seemingly snapping out of whatever daze had taken hold of her, "No, wait," she took a deep, steadying breath, "I can do this."
Once the spell was cast, a pair of rollerblades appeared on the substantially more solid boggart's feet, and it skated up the walls, making a full run around the room, a streak of orange and blue blinking effortlessly in and out of time as the class watched in awe.
Shaking his head with quiet amusement, the professor then announced that the next up would be the last for the day, and thus, it happened that Genji stepped up to face Lena's shadow. She stared at him for a moment, then a smirk quirked her lips, making him swallow down his nervousness because even though the boggart looked like the perky witch in every way, that expression was decidedly too mean, too downright nasty to belong on her face.
She spun around, blurring, and Genji waited, ready, the spell resting at the tip of his tongue… until his older brother stepped forward, pale and drawn, with a katana in his grasp that dripped blood at his feet.
It started with the stares.
Hanzo could feel them pressing on his back as he walked the halls.
Most of the Hogwarts staff and students knew of his lineage the instant they learned his name - the Shimada were a renowned family of Purebloods, after all. The rumors surrounding his family - that they'd delved in dark magic, making deals with ancient beasts for powers that were beyond the realm of mortal understanding – had followed him throughout the years, but enough time had passed since his sorting that his ancestry had virtually ceased to be interesting. Instead of Hanzo, a Shimada and potential dark wizard, he was simply Hanzo, a strict but fair Slytherin prefect.
He hadn't realized how much the distinction meant to him until it seemed to be on the cusp of slipping away.
Youthful faces turned abruptly or hid behind conveniently open books when he attempted to make eye contact, and it wasn't long before he realized that the students, and especially the Gryffindors, seemed to be avoiding him.
The worst was when he tried to get in contact with his little brother, whose seat he'd noticed had been suspiciously empty during the last few meals in the dining hall. Just when he'd thought he'd caught a glimpse of his spiky head amongst the sea of gold and scarlet robes, the students converged around Genji, blocking him from sight like lions protecting their young. Normally, Hanzo would have been less than impressed by the gesture, but with each of them wearing such fierce glares, he actually found himself taking a step back.
"Genji… you are a disgrace to the Shimada name." The class, Gryffindors and Slytherins alike, gasped as one when the boggart clad in his older brother's form lunged, and Genji, forgetting his wand, scrambled out of the way, desperate pleas bubbling past his lips.
Before the boggart could attempt a second strike, however, Jesse and Lena leapt in front of Genji, each of them grinning audaciously with their wands raised and a spell on their lips, "Ridikulous!"
Within seconds, a translucent rattlesnake with rollerblades attached to its scaly underbelly popped into existence. When it attempted to strike, it found that it couldn't get any purchase, and slipped and rolled awkwardly across the wood flooring. It was such a sight, with its comically widened eyes and distressed hissing, that the students couldn't help but laugh, softly at first and then with added feeling.
Meanwhile, Jesse and Lena refused to let Genji come out from behind them, and together formed a defensive wall around the young Gryffindor that kept him safely out of the boggart's sight.
"Okay, class," Morrison intercepted the confused boggart, briefly turning it into a beautiful miniature of a moonlit night, "that's more than enough for today." After casting the spell, he grabbed the moon like a pearly basketball, dribbled it, and then tossed it back into the wardrobe.
Ignoring groans of disappointment and papers rustling as the students prepared to move to their next class, Morrison turned to the odd Gryffindor trio still clustered by the wall, "You three." Two of them straightened, having been interrupted in the middle of delivering a thumbs-up that was as reassuring as it was blessedly corny. "I'll let your teachers know you'll be a few minutes late to your next class. There's something I'd like to speak with you about."
"I just don't know what I did wrong," Hanzo groused irritably to a Slytherin first year in their house common room. Her name was Hana, and she was draped gracelessly over a striped green armchair, her focus zeroed in on the handheld gaming device in her hands with a frightening intensity, despite the confiscated cowboy hat, which Hanzo had no memory of letting her borrow, that kept threatening to fall over her eyes. Despite the rather adverse effect areas of concentrated magic, like wizarding schools, had on electronics, she'd somehow managed to get her own to work, and she put that revolutionary knowledge to good use by becoming the sole live streamer at Hogwarts.
While she defended her title as the current reigning champion of Mario Cart, Hanzo, continued to brood on a couch that smelled mildly of mildew, as most things did in the dungeon.
It didn't bother him much that she didn't seem to be listening. Actually, he preferred it, since voicing his troubles aloud was often enough to make him feel leagues better, but now he was genuinely at a loss for what to do. It wasn't like he could stalk the halls, intimidating third years into telling him where his brother was. That would be a blatant abuse of his prefect status and if word spread that he was throwing his weight around like a common bully, he was sure the privilege would be summarily revoked.
There was a smack of loud chewing, and then a massive blue bubble expanded from Hana's lips, before it suddenly burst, leaving her with a subtle bluish tint around her mouth. "Why don't you go talk to him?"
"Have you not been listening?" Though it was already clear that she hadn't been, her flippant response nonetheless nettled. "I can't-"
"Then maybe you just aren't trying hard enough," she interrupted with another obnoxious smack of her gum. There was a series of descending musical notes as her screen flashed with bright, rainbow letters, Game Over.
Frustration boiling over, Hanzo nearly snapped at her for the careless comment, then immediately thought better of it. He couldn't exactly blame her for giving bad advice when she was doing him a favor just by listening to him complain, an act which wouldn't have been necessary if he'd put a little more effort into making friends his own age. And once he'd successfully cleared his head, he realized she was actually right. There was something he could do, something that he hadn't even considered, because if bullying children would get him demoted, this would get him expelled.
A plan in mind, he got up to leave. "Tell anyone who asks that I was here with you the entire time and I will get you more of that gum from Hogsmeade."
Hanging her head over the armrest with her game still flashing in her hands, Hana fixed him with an upside-down grin that could only be described as wolfish.
"Deal."
Since the halls were practically abandoned during the afternoon dining hour, with the exception of stragglers and those trying to get some last minute studying in, and he knew that Genji would very likely be skipping supper again, Hanzo decided that it would be the perfect time to sneak into Gryffindor tower.
His paws scrambled on the stone tile flooring beneath for purchase as he navigated through the corridors, desperate not to get lost or stepped on, though keeping low and to the shadows felt natural enough to him that he needn't have worried.
Stealth just seemed to come with the territory of being an unregistered animagus.
It also helped that there were few students who paid any attention to the ground when they walked. It certainly worked out in his favor, as he was not once accosted by anyone desiring to capture or (debatably worse) pet him before he was raising his head beseechingly at the Gryffindor's painted guardian.
The lady in the portrait bore a plumpness characteristic of those from her time in possession of wealth and means, and wore her brunette tresses in curled ringlets that bounced merrily as she regretfully shook her head. "Sorry, dearie," she whispered to the azure creature glittering prettily as it brushed its scales against her frame, "but there's nothing can do if you don't have the password."
And even if it did have the password, it couldn't very well communicate to her, she didn't add.
She stared down at the young serpent when it wound itself into a coil, regarding the animal with suspicion before her brows suddenly arched in surprise. "Oh! You're a student, aren't you?" She smiled kindly, knowing now that the creature was nothing that may harm the students. "An animagus, and at such a young age." Sighing, her eyes distant with nostalgia, she added, "I haven't seen that in quite some time."
Uncurling his long, slender body so that he could raise his head and front paws off the ground, Hanzo communicated through a series of low hisses and quick snaps, I apologize for approaching you in this form, but circumstances demand it. Could you please grant me access to the Gryffindor common room? I'm not going in there to cause trouble. I just want to talk to my brother.
"I'm sorry," and she sounded like she meant it, "but my answer hasn't changed. No password, no entry."
Hanzo did his best not to growl in frustration, as it was significantly more challenging not to give into such urges when transformed, Could you simply tell me the password, then?
"Nice try, dear, but no."
There was a click click of golden claws hitting the tile and then Hanzo leapt onto the painting, hooking his claws into the canvas. Predictably, the Fat Lady let out a startled shriek, and tried to shoo him away, but he held fast, even pawed lightly at the magically reinforced material to rile her up further. It felt almost mean-spirited to antagonize her like this when she'd been so kind to him, but it was the only thing he could think of to get into the tower.
And everyone knew that what the Fat Lady may have lacked in singing ability, she more than made up for with lung capacity.
It wasn't long before the passage to Gryffindor tower was opened from the inside by a dark-skinned boy poking his close-cropped head out to see what the commotion was. For a moment, his brown eyes met the slitted pupils of the miniature dragon swinging off of the Fat Lady by its front paws, both of them too shocked to moved, and then Hanzo rocketed through the crack, sprinting over the boy's shoulder and into the tower before the bewildered first year could finish processing the situation.
The shouts coming from behind Hanzo only spurred him on, driving him to power past the burning in his muscled legs and the panic hammering away in his chest.
"Is that a dragon?!"
"Quick, someone catch it!"
It appeared that the common room was not as empty as he'd hoped, as reaching arms seemed to come from all angles. He swerved, zigzagging right and left to avoid the pair of second years, a boy and girl, attempting to corral him. It was when they attempted to throw a blanket over him that his claws lost purchase and he slammed into a nightstand, knocking over a silver goblet filled with pumpkin juice and an oil lamp that nearly shattered on his tail.
He climbed onto a scarlet armchair, leapt onto the ledge atop the fireplace, then pushed against it with his hind legs, propelling himself over the heads of the shocked students until his claws managed to snag on the chandelier, where he dangled, feeling helpless and looking foolish.
This was the sight which greeted Genji when he walked into the common room to see what all the fuss was about. The students had drawn their wands, apparently tired from chasing him around the room and wary of grabbing his tail - as they should be - when Genji cried out, "Wait!" They all swiveled to stare at him, Hanzo included. Genji swallowed, suddenly nervous. "That's my pet. I think someone might have transfigured him into a dragon as a prank." As though to prove it, he stepped under the chandelier, his arms outstretched and a silent plea in his eyes.
Huffing softly, Hanzo retracted his claws, allowing himself to fall into his little brother's waiting embrace. Looking pleased, Genji grinned at the others, as if to say, See?
Since the animal did seem to like him, the Gryffindors accepted Genji's claim without any further suspicion, and settled back into their armchairs to study. Professor Reyes was rumored to be giving out surprise quizzes in Potions and none of them wished to find out what horrors awaited the unprepared.
Holding the dragon close to his chest, though it wriggled it out of his grasp once they were safely out of the common room, preferring to drape itself around his neck and shoulders like a living scarf, Genji rushed to regain the solitude of his own room, before carefully pulling the dragon off him and holding it out so that their eyes were level when he whispered fiercely, "Anija, are you crazy? What would you have done if they had caught you?"
Been expelled, probably.
Everyone knew there was a clear No Dragons rule at Hogwarts, so it would have been only a matter of time before the students mentioned him to one of the teachers or staff, and inevitably, his status as an illegal and underage animagus would have been discovered.
"Hey, are you okay?" The sound of Genji's voice, softer now, jerked Hanzo out of his thoughts. He tilted his head at the question, and chuffed in the hopes of getting Genji to elaborate. "You're trembling."
Mortified, Hanzo ducked his head, internally berating himself for allowing his instincts to control him to this extent. Instincts which told him, as ridiculous as the notion was, that he'd only narrowly escaped death.
He squirmed, flicking his tail impatiently until Genji, rolling his eyes at being bossed around by a lizard, even if the lizard was his older brother, placed him down on the four-poster bed's crimson comforter. To Genji's surprise and amusement, the dragon didn't settle down immediately, but instead rumbled quietly as it padded in circles, creating a dip in the comforter that it promptly settled into.
Fighting a smile, Genji flopped beside it, earning himself an affronted glare from the dragon. When he blinked, however, it had ceased to be a dragon, and beside him sat his brother, fully clothed in his Slytherin robes and equally disgruntled. He took a moment to compose himself, running palms down his head to smooth flyaways, before allowing them to rest at the base of his neck. Peering curiously at his little brother, who knew what was coming, Hanzo calmly asked, "Would you mind explaining to me why everyone in this school seems to think you in dire need of protection?"
From me, went unsaid.
Genji heard it, anyway.
He shrunk into himself, ashamed of his behavior in the face of an imagined threat – the professor would have never allowed the boggart to actually harm him, after all – and of the domino effect it'd had on the school. There were terrible, nasty rumors going around about Hanzo. Rumors which he'd done his best to discredit, but anyone he tried to talk to seemed to either think he was too traumatized to admit the truth or covering for him out of a misplaced sense of loyalty.
Sensing the turmoil swirling within him, Hanzo placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Whatever the reason, I swear to you I will not be upset. Just," he took a deep, steadying breath, "tell me what happened."
And so Genji did. Slowly at first, but faster as the words started to tumble out.
It had started with Divination class. Professor Vaswani was known for making predictions that were sometimes a little… overly practical - the exact date and time of an impending cavity, while useful, was hardly exciting information - she'd seemed genuinely concerned when she'd read his future in the tarot cards she'd laid out in front of the class.
Someone dear to you will betray you, she'd told him, her amber eyes bright with sympathy, and you will be reborn.
He'd brushed it off as nonsense at first, but then the nightmares started. Every night, he felt with terrifying clarity the chill of his brother's blade as it ripped him open. Sometimes, the dream only lasted long enough for him to see Hanzo's expression morph into a porcelain mask, and sometimes it lasted long enough for him to see both the mask and his brother shatter into pieces.
Hanzo listened without comment until after Genji finished recounting his experience with the boggart, though his mouth curved with distaste at the thought of Professor Morrison setting a creature whose sole purpose in life was to provoke fear on a class of third years. "We could handle it," Genji muttered when he mentioned it, bristling.
Clearly that was not the case, but Hanzo held his tongue.
He remembered the Divination professor from when he'd taken her class (it was required) and had been pleasantly surprised at how much he'd appreciated her approach. Instead of focusing on the mystic aspects of Divination, she'd guided them through the more spiritual and meditative side, showed them how to clear their minds, breath deeply and find their center.
She'd talked about her home in India, what it was like to walk through crowded streets filled with colors and sounds and a million conversations, and to be so overwhelmed by it all that she spent every moment in public yearning for solitude and every moment in solitude dreading its inevitable end.
But practicing Divination gave her focus. It gave her a way to connect with people on a level that surpassed words, surpassed the body, and touched the soul. And for that, she'd said with a slight smile, she'd always be grateful for the opportunity she'd been given to learn, practice, and share that connection with students who might be just as scared and nervous as she was.
By the end of that first class, Hanzo had been so intrigued by the sheer amount of honesty and sincerity with which she'd talked about her own insecurities that he'd found himself taking an active interest in a class he'd initially written off as a waste of time.
Scaring a child to impress a class of teenagers just didn't seem like her modus operandi.
But he would never harm his brother.
"Divination," Hanzo said at last, "is not an exact science." And Genji nodded, waiting patiently for his brother to tell him something he didn't already know. "The diviner is given symbols, images to interpret, but that interpretation can change. While I am not saying she is wrong, it is possible that she overestimated the severity of the betrayal."
Glancing behind him, at the head of Genji's twin-sized bed, Hanzo caught sight of the pachimari toy their father had sent Genji as a Christmas present during his first year at Hogwarts, and snatched it, then held it aloft, high over his head where Genji couldn't reach no matter how high he jumped. Cackling like a villain, Hanzo crowed, "Yes, this toy is mine now. I shall take it to the dungeon for the snakes to feed upon, and you will never see it again!"
Realization creeping slowly over Genji's face, he stopped trying to reach the toy, and instead threw himself over the bed. "Oh, what cruelty. What betrayal! And from my own brother!"
Unable to suppress a grin at Genji's dramatics, Hanzo tossed the pachimari at his head before plopping down next to him. It bounced off harmlessly. "See? The prophecy's been fulfilled. You have nothing to worry about, little brother."
"That's easy for you to say," came the muffled reply from where Genji had buried his head in the comforter. "You're never scared."
For a moment, Hanzo was too stunned to reply. He hadn't realized his brother had thought so much of him. "That's not true." With thoughts of the recent chase in the common room and the stomping of boots bringing a rueful curve to his lips, Hanzo sheepishly admitted, "Gryffindors scare me a great deal."
A startled laugh erupted from out of the covers, and Hanzo leaned back, relaxing slightly. "Genji, everyone has things they're afraid of. If there existed someone who feared nothing, not death or loss, then we would all know what boggarts truly look like."
He watched as Genji gave a small nod, then finally straightened, pulling himself into a cross-legged sitting position. "Okay," he breathed. "I believe you."
And Hanzo sagged with relief, as a tension he hadn't even realized existed dissipated into nothing.
They settled into a comfortable silence, content to savor simply being in each other's presence, since their age difference guaranteed that they didn't share any classes, and being in different Houses made spending time together during study hall or at dinner kind of awkward.
Finally, after he'd grown tired of watching Genji pick at the same scarlet string sticking out of his sheets, Hanzo announced that he needed to return to Slytherin House. Hana could only cover for him for so long before someone realized he was missing.
Genji frowned, "Are you going to use your animagus form again?"
The thought of crawling through a common room filled with excitable children caused a shiver to run down Hanzo's spine, but what other choice did he have? A Slytherin prefect couldn't very well waltz right out of Gryffindor Tower without drawing unwanted attention.
While he mulled it over, Genji reached into his trunk to dig out a shapeless duffel bag. "Why don't we use this to get you out?" Due to the eagerness and pride radiating from every inch of him, Hanzo regarded the bag with a caution he felt was entirely warranted.
"I'm not going to fit in there, Genji."
Looking entirely too pleased by this turn of events, Genji clarified, "Obviously not. Which is why you need to transform."
There were probably a thousand, more sensible ways to exit the tower undetected that didn't require Hanzo transforming or being stuffed in a bag, but he was tired and Genji wouldn't let this go until he got what he wanted, and so it was with no small amount of reluctance that he agreed to the plan. Inexplicably, his little brother's grin widened, "And in exchange for me carrying you to the dungeons, you can give Jesse his hat back."
Thoroughly exasperated, Hanzo threw up his hands, "I cannot believe we're negotiating about this." Knowing his brother could never say no to him for long, Genji dangled the duffel bag in what was meant to a tantalizing fashion. It was all Hanzo could do not to role his eyes so hard the nurse would have to shove them back into his head. "I'll think about it."
With any luck, Hana had not yet grown overly fond of it.
He closed his eyes, allowing his magic to spread evenly throughout his body, and pictured his limbs shortening, growing thinner as scales erupted over their surface, scales that rippled in the light and fit together seamlessly, like a second skin. He could almost feel it, the lengthening of his teeth, the hard, lethal sharpness of his claws, when his already heightened hearing caught a quietly awed whisper, "You'll teach me how to turn into a dragon someday too, right?
Hanzo's lips curled into a vague smile, eliciting a noise of frustration from his little brother, and then in an instant, Genji discovered that Hanzo had been replaced by a rather smug looking dragon. Before he could get another word out, the dragon rocketed into his duffel bag, rummaging through essays, notebooks, and homework until its slender body and tail were safely tucked inside and completely hidden from view.
It wasn't really fair of him to hold onto his secrets when Genji had been so honest with his, but Genji was sure that the right amount of persistent wheedling would break him down over time.
It always did.
When Genji slipped the duffel bag on, still miffed by the avoidance, he found it to be significantly heavier than he'd anticipated. "Anija," he grunted, readjusting the straps, "are you gaining weight?"
He tried to keep a straight face for when he walked into the common room, but there was a rustling in the bag, followed by a pressure on his back from where a clawed foot lightly kicked him through the fabric, and then it was all he could do not to dissolve into helpless giggles in full view of the other Gryffindors. Somehow, he managed to cling desperately to the last vestiges of his self-control long enough to burst out of the tower, having ignored every inquiring brow he'd passed. Once he was standing in the hall, he allowed a huge grin to spread across his face, and wound up making the trek to the dungeons with a noticeable spring in his step.
And why shouldn't he?
After all...
How many other kids could say their older brother was a dragon?