Harry Potter and the Cracked Reservoir
Chapter 35: Another Prophecy
By Musings of Apathy
Chapter 35: Another Prophecy
Thank you to my Betas; Donalddeutsch, Sparky40sw and Cateagle.
Late Thursday evening, Wilhelm Vaisey, seventh year Slytherin chaser, was returning to the common room when he heard shouting from an unused classroom. He approached and put his eye to the cracked door. Inside he could see an incensed Harry Potter facing off against a determined Ginny Weasley. This struck him as very unusual, as they were widely known as the perfect couple by the school, their temperaments blending famously. He stilled to listen closely, being the Slytherin that he was.
"…for the best, Harry," Ginny stated. "We both know it."
"I don’t care, Ginny," Harry ruled. "I won’t have you hurt."
"Harry, we both know what the new prophecy says," Ginny sighed, as if this point had been bandied about for far too long. "If ‘the Dark Lord’ or one of his followers hurts the love of your life, me, you get more powerful in fighting for me."
"What?" Harry asked sarcastically, "and the more you get hurt the more powerful I become? I won’t have it!" he yelled. "I won’t have you getting hurt!"
"Harry, it’s the only way," Ginny said in a frustrated tone, tears prickling the corner of her eye. "We can put me in danger and one of those idiots," she spat, "will hurt me and you get the power. Once you have the power you can save me."
"Is that what you think is best?" Harry asked, his voice rising in pitch and volume. "Maybe if you get a broken arm, I could have enough power to cast silently. With a broken leg, I could cast multiple patroni. With a skull fracture maybe I could have wandless magic. What? Brain damage? That gets me a vegetable for a love and mage sight?" he yelled. "Maybe if you were to die I would be all-fucking-powerful and could just wish old Voldemort vanquished!"
"Harry, it’s not…" She was cut off.
"Ginny, can’t you see?" Harry pleaded, his voice suddenly trembling and tearful. "I can’t have you hurt at all. I love you too much! It would kill me inside to have you injured." Tears bubbled to Harry’s eyes.
"Harry, it’s all right," Ginny soothed.
"I can’t let those bastards get a hand on you," Harry cried, obviously blinded by love and tears, "just because some prophecy says that if I do, I would get the power to vanquish ‘the Dark Lord’. Some things just aren’t worth it," he said with conviction through his tears.
"Harry," Ginny said in a comforting soft voice, "I might be hurt anyway."
"Just promise me that you won’t do it on purpose," Harry implored. "Promise me that you will try to keep yourself safe."
"Harry…" Ginny started again, as if the solution was obvious to her and quite the opposite of what Harry was proposing.
"Promise me, please," Harry pleaded again.
"Harry, you know what Dumbledore will say," Ginny informed him, trying a new tack. "If a prophecy says that me getting hurt will make you powerful enough to kill Voldemort, he would say that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one."
"Sod Dumbledore. We’re not telling him! Not now. Not ever," Harry paused, gathering himself for his argument. "I won’t let him make the decision to sacrifice the woman that I love. He is all too willing to sacrifice others for the good of the many. But what has ‘the many’ done for us? Why do we always have to be on the sacrificing end of the bargain? I don’t want him to be in a position to make that decision. I don’t trust him to make the right one," Harry ranted. "And I don’t want you to make the decision yourself. Promise me."
"Harry," Ginny said in a normal, everyday voice, "Maybe this time he would be right. Maybe this would be for the best."
"Ginny," Harry said through blinding tears. He dropped to his knees, pleading overtly. "Please. I have nothing to live for without you. Sure, I’ll have the power to kill the bastard, but then I’ll want nothing more than to die myself to join you and my parents in death. Whether there’s an afterlife or not, this life won’t be bearable without you in it. I can’t have you hurt. Please promise me that you’ll keep yourself safe. Promise me that you won’t tell Dumbledore about this new prophecy."
"Okay," she conceded with tears in her own eyes. "I…I won’t tell Dumbledore."
"Promise me," Harry continued, mindful of her partial promise, "that you won’t put yourself in danger. Promise me that you will try to keep yourself safe. Do it for me."
"…Oh, Harry," Ginny said, dropping to her knees and embracing him in tears. "I love you. I promise. I promise that I’ll try to stay safe."
"Thank you Ginny," Harry cried, hanging on to her for dear life. "Thank you. I love you more than life itself."
Wilhelm backed away from the partially open door in shock. This was important information. He’d have to get the information out. He had to get this to the right person. This could possibly mean a turning point in the war, a turning point that wouldn’t go well for his Lord. Plans and machinations bandied about in his head. His future could ride on this information. His standing in the Death Eaters could depend on this reaching the Dark Lord in the right fashion. He needed to get this to the Dark Lord himself. He had a plan.
Wilhelm Vaisey walked briskly through the empty corridors away from the Slytherin common room and to his new destination, the owlery. If he could get a letter to his father tonight, his father could pull him out of the school tomorrow for the weekend. He couldn’t trust this information with any owl. They were right. If Dumbledore found out, he would ensure that the prophecy was fulfilled. Yes, he’d have his father say that his mother had taken ill and asked to see him. This would work as no one in the school, not even his fellow Slytherins, knew of the blood-traitorous bitch’s incarceration in their own dungeons. After all, his father and himself had to keep her disgrace from both sides of this most righteous of causes. To think, a pureblood such as her, planning to speak publicly against their master. Absolutely disgraceful.
Ginny and Harry were still clutching each other on the cold hard floor when they heard the door click shut and a murmured silencing spell. They didn’t break their hold until they were interrupted with the slow beat of one person applauding.
"That was brilliant!" exclaimed Ron, now identified as the clapper.
Harry and Ginny were still coming down from their emotional highpoint they had reached at the end of their little ‘play’.
"Did it work?" Harry asked, holding Ginny’s hands, lovingly.
Hermione did not look up from the large piece of worn parchment that she was peering at.
"He’s turned around and is going to the Owlery. He just reached the bottom of the stairs and is climbing," Hermione said. "I would say that it worked."
"Brilliant idea, Hermione," Harry said.
"Yeah," said Ginny, drying her eyes. "No wonder they say that you’re considered the brightest witch in Hogwarts."
Hermione blushed and stammered, "Thanks."
"How did you two get so good at that…acting stuff?" asked Ron.
Harry and Ginny grinned at each other. "Well," Harry said, "It’s just lying. We just got really carried away in the emotions. You have to say it like you believe it. You have to be a character, someone for whom what you are saying is true for."
"When it was really going well," Ginny said, "when it really heated up, the emotions just flowed from me, and it just…worked. Felt really good when it was going right."
Hermione smiled at the couple with pride for them.
"So, you invented a false prophecy on Friday evening," Ron said, "That sure makes the rest of the weekend pale by comparison. What ya got planned?"
Harry and Ginny both looked excited, practically bouncing in their seats. "We have an appointment with Professor McGonagall tomorrow afternoon," Harry said, "for our first attempt at the full animagus transformations."
"Fascinating," Hermione declared, "Can we come and watch?"
Ron shot her an amused glare.
"Sure," Harry and Ginny both answered.
Ron met up with his friends for an early lunch that Saturday morning after he had a lie in through breakfast. Ron, not normally one to miss meals, attacked his lunch with enthusiasm. Thus happily missing the conversation between Hermione and the perhaps soon to be animagus couple. Hermione was fascinated with the animagus transformation process, one generally known as an arduous one. If Ron were cognizant of the conversation, he would have been glad to not have his breakfast spoiled by the gruesome talk of flesh, bone and transformations.
After Ron finished with his lengthy repast, the group of friends stood from the Gryffindor table and proceeded happily to their afternoon appointment with Professor McGonagall. No sooner had they entered the classroom than they were met with a tabby cat sitting on the teacher’s desk, looking at them with unblinking, steely eyes.
"Hello, Professor," Harry said to the cat.
The others quickly greeted her as well.
The cat leapt from her perch on the desk, transforming into the normally stern Transfiguration Professor.
"You know," she said, "It is a lot more enjoyable when I do that with my first year students. At least they still approach life with some awe."
Ginny smirked playfully at the teacher. "Well, please, transform back so that we may show our proper awe."
The Professor gave the mischievous young woman an assessing eye. "I will transform back for a demonstration in a few moments."
Ginny grinned back. Harry smiled at the Professor while watching Ginny out of the corner of his eye. He had learned to be wary of Ginny’s various grins. This wasn’t one of the more pleasant ones to be faced with, but luckily it was the Professor that had aroused her mischief not himself.
"Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said, "Nice of you to come. I must insist that you do not take any action during this meeting without instruction. This is a delicate process and must be uninterrupted. An animagus is the combination of their human intellect and animal instinct. Try your best not to arouse their animal instinct, as both Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley are predatory animals capable of doing great harm."
Ron and Hermione were eager to say that they would follow her orders.
"Now which of you will undergo the transformation first?" the Professor asked, ignoring the still present glint in Ginny’s eyes.
"I will," Harry volunteered. He knew full well that Ginny was nervous about the upcoming experience and would be more comforted by watching him go through the transformation first. Now his only worry was as to his success with the first attempt at transformation.
"Okay, Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley," Professor McGonagall said, "Watch my transformation and note the progression of the change from human form to animal."
She immediately performed the change, more slowly than she normally would, to the happy and slightly amazed looks of the students.
The glint in Ginny’s eye turned to a twinkle causing Harry to groan inwardly. What was his girlfriend going to do now?
Ginny knelt down to the cat and scooped the protesting animagus into her arms. "Awww," she said, drawing the single syllable out, "Isn’t she cute?" she fawned over the struggling cat. She started to pet the tabby, the cat’s instincts causing it to go limp and enjoy the attention. After a couple of moments, Ginny placed the cat on the floor, back where it originally transformed. At full speed of her normal transformation, Professor McGonagall came back into existence directly before their eyes.
"Miss Weasley!" Professor McGonagall said sternly.
"Well," Ginny said, "You did lament our lack of ‘AWE’ at your other form," she reasoned. "Besides, you seemed to enjoy the attention."
"Yes, well," the Professor said, "While it’s true that the animagus retains their human intellect, the animal instinct can overtake the intellect with the correct stimulus."
"And cats love attention," Hermione said as she got an epiphany. "And so the stimulation of Ginny petting you overpowered your human intellect with the feline instinct to revel in the attention."
"Quite correct, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said. "Thus highlighting why you must treat an animagus properly not only as the mage that they were but the animal that they are when they transform," she lectured. "Now Harry," she continued, turning to the man in question, "Concentrate on your animal form in every detail. Rebuild the animal in your mind’s eye. Just nod your head when you have the form complete. Remember to exercise your human intellect to exert control over your animal instinct."
Harry smiled and concentrated on the image of the panther in his mind, its many layers. From the silky fur, through the strong skin he pictured the muscles, his muscles, taught and strong. He could picture the muscle, bone and viscera. He pictured each of the organs, their structure and function. He continued this until he had made an inventory of the parts that made the whole of a panther. When he was complete, he gave the briefest of nods to the transfiguration professor.
Professor McGonagall raised her wand and performed a complex motion, reminiscent of tracing a rune in air, the pattern pointing to Harry from head to foot and back before she stated with clear authority, "Hominis Instar Muto Animus!"
Harry felt tightening in his body, his arms and his legs. He felt the changes roll through him; closing his eyes to distract himself from the changes he could feel in his face.
He felt his jaw narrow and lengthen. His teeth rearranged themselves, becoming sharper and longer. His tongue lengthened and turned from the one he was used to, fleshy and wide to something different. His tongue was longer and thinner; easily wrapping around his teeth when he opened his mouth experimentally as he was still changing.
His shoulders pulled in to his chest, which had started to change shape. He involuntarily pitched forward, perching on his fingertips and toes automatically. He could feel his rib cage contract in a manner completely different from breathing; stretching forward and in from the sides, rather than expanding and contracting. His torso retracted as his organs shrank. His hips and thighs narrowed while his thighbones shortened. His knees moved from halfway from his hips to the floor to level with the bottom of his ribcage. The bones in his feet lengthened as his feet drew from a full contact pad to the balls of his feet. His toes contracted together and his nails grew into thick claws, narrowed and extremely sharp. His arms had a similar transformation. His upper arms and shoulders contracted in toward his chest, while his forearms only narrowed as his tendons strengthened and became more taut. His fingers contracted and shortened forming paws with four fingers, while his thumb retreated up above his wrist, becoming ancillary. All over his body the fine hairs that cover the human form grew and filled in, forming a rich black fur that rippled with concealed strength. His face was broad and regal. His eyes changed from an emerald green with round pupils to an even more haunting, deeper bottle green with a panther's unfathomably deep black, round pupils. On his forehead appeared a light grey in the sea of mottled black in the shape of a lightning bolt. Without close examination, it would never be noticed.
As his transformation completed, his mind having catalogued the changes, he opened his eyes to realize that his transformation held no pain. He had expected the transformation of his bones and muscles to cause excruciating pain at first. He thought that he would have to get used to the changes before his body could adapt. Yet, it didn’t fill him with pain. His mind catalogued the changes without his pain receptors dancing wildly in his mind. He looked around and found the details sharp in the lit room. He could smell his surroundings. There were four living smells in the room. He lazily licked the air, drawing it in and rubbing it across the roof of his mouth. He was assaulted with the more intense flavor of the others in the room as the scent molecules traveled from his mouth up his Jacobson’s organ where he tasted the smells in the air. He was now able to analyze the scents around the room.
He walked around the room, stopping at each person. ‘The older one smells like a feline, a cousin,’ his instincts told him. His intellect recognized that he could smell Professor McGonagall’s cat form. He merely passed over the next figure. He could smell another feline on her, but it was not threat to him, or so reported his instinct. His intellect knew it was Hermione and her cat, Crookshanks, that he could sense.
The next person did peak his interest. This one was male, but he was concealing something. Harry’s panther instinct identified the smell as food. This one held food that it wanted. Harry’s intellect was equally fascinated. The smell that he was trying to identify was only reported by his current instincts as what could only be translated as carrion, or Harry guessed, dry meat.
Harry raised his large paw to the pocket of the robe that Ron was wearing. He batted it a couple of times, letting a low rumbling growl before he opened his mouth and turned the growl into a little verbalization, almost a whine.
Ron was startled. No one had said anything as Harry had stalked down the line of friends, being torn between fascination and instinctual fear.
"Ron," said Hermione, "What’s in that pocket?"
"Um," said Ron, "Just some beef jerky."
Professor McGonagall snickered to herself before gaining composure. "Mr. Weasley," she said, "He seems to want it. I would suggest that you give it to him."
"But that’s my snack," whined Ron.
"And the instinctual part of him is probably telling him to rip you to shreds because he can smell it on you," she advised him.
"He what!?!" screamed Ron.
This scream startled Harry, who jumped back in a defensive crouch, ready to pounce, emitting a warning growl.
Ron jumped back as well. He quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out a large piece of peppered beef jerky that his brother Bill had sent him from a recent trip abroad.
The black panther pounced on the thrown meat and proceeded to devour the morsel while stretching out on the floor and holding the piece between his large paws.
The others watched with fascination as he ripped dried strips from the small mass.
After he finished satisfied, he stood and walked to the last person in the room. This female had a wonderfully familiar scent, his panther instincts registered. His instincts quickly identified this woman as his mate, as she smelled of his human form blended with her own wonderful natural scent. Harry’s intellect was happy to note this from his instinct, that Ginny smelled of him, was marked as his. He rubbed his sleek body against her legs, causing her to giggle. She knelt down and stroked his smooth fur.
"Mmm," she purred for him, "Aren’t you pretty," she complemented, "And so strong feeling," she continued as she stroked his lean, powerful body.
Ron bristled. This just seemed so wrong to be seeing his little sister stroking a big cat who was really his best friend. The whole scene just seemed so…obscene.
"Perhaps it’s time you changed back, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall stated.
Harry’s cat form turned to acknowledge the Professor. The group watched the transformation in reverse as he stretched upright changing back into a wizard in school robes. His glasses were back, perched on the bridge of his nose and all of his clothing back in exactly the same place it had been before it became part of his transformation.
"Very good, Mr. Potter," the Professor said with pride in her student. "Fifty points for Gryffindor."
Harry blushed, "Thank you, Professor." He smiled at his friends as they congratulated his achievement. He hugged first Hermione with brotherly enthusiasm and then Ginny with other than brotherly intentions. In his excitement he captured her mouth for a quick celebratory snog.
They broke apart at Professor McGonagall’s clearing of throat. "Enough, you two," she said without a hint of disapproval in her voice. "It is now Miss Weasley’s turn for her transformation."
Ginny looked nervous. She smiled to the Professor in acknowledgement of her turn before closing her eyes and scrunching her face in concentration. It was a bare minute before the Transfiguration Professor observed Ginny’s fervent nod.
Professor McGonagall raised her wand and performed the complex pattern with the expertise of long years of practice. "Hominis Instar Muto Animus!" she intoned for the second time that afternoon.
Ginny immediately began to shrink rapidly. Her robes melted into her body, changing to a sheen of healthy feathers across her back, black tiled with white edges. Simultaneously, her body morphed to a compact form supporting two strong pointed wings, which she flexed out from her body. Her face changed, becoming quite small and covered with a mottled grey with nearly a red under-tone that seemed to come out in the reflection of light from its surface. Her eyes were unfathomable black orbs surrounded by stark blue-grey skin giving way to the feathered face. Her whole new skull seemed to be made for the sole purpose of supporting the powerful beak. The top half was hooked and sharp to the down turned point. The bottom beak nestled into the top, concealing the sharp hard tongue of the species. Her chest feathers were white dappled with deep grey that shone in the light with a red hue. Her legs and feet transformed into thin, but powerful, appendages with blue-grey skin over bone and tendon below the knee and above the knee, her feathers gave the impression of fluffy legwarmers, the same color combination as her chest. Her feet were now powerful, clawed grippers, useful for picking rodents from field grass and mercilessly breaking their necks before their beak ripped the flesh from the bone.
After she finished her rapid transformation, she stood on the floor in her falcon form eyeing the other occupants of the room. Her instincts served her, reporting the occupants of the room as neither prey nor predator.
Hopping a couple of times, she extended her large wings to their four and a half foot wingspan and gave a couple of large experimental flaps before taking a leap forward and pushing herself into the air. She vaulted to the top of the ceiling and circled the crown several times, letting out a high screech.
Her friends and mentor below looked on in true awe.
After several laps she glided down and alighted onto Harry’s shoulders, her high vantage and keen eyes having no problems identifying her mate.
Harry grinned broadly. They had both been successful. He reached up and stroked the soft feathers on Ginny’s falcon breast. After several minutes of calm bliss, Ginny sprung from his shoulder and transformed midair. She came down hard onto her feet, bending at the knees. She immediately launched herself into Harry’s waiting arms, ecstatic at her success.
"Very good, Miss Weasley," the Professor said proudly. "If I might suggest, until you get used to the form and the transformations, stick with the solid ground for the change." She smiled at the happy redhead. "And fifty points to you as well for a magnificent transformation on the first try."
Ginny squeaked happily and launched herself into a group hug with her brother and her friend, pulling Ron and Hermione together in celebration.