The room hummed with quiet energy. Not from spells or music. Just… anticipation.
We'd gathered in our usual hideaway behind the tapestry corridor. A chamber we'd quietly claimed as ours this year. Charms lined the walls, layered so deeply the air itself felt thicker. No portraits. No echo. No risk.
Twelve of us, seated in loose formation—couches, floor cushions, an overturned crate or two. Everyone comfortable in their own way. Comfortable with each other.
That, in itself, was rare.
Daphne sat to my right, as always. Blaise leaned in his corner throne, arms folded, one eyebrow raised like he knew I was about to start something. Tracey sprawled at my feet, legs crossed, chewing the end of her quill like she was ready to stab someone with it if this got boring.
Harry and Hermione flanked each other, their postures oddly mirrored. Neville sat near the tea tray, watching the steam rise like it held the future. Millicent and Susan shared a loveseat, neither speaking much, but both alert. Hannah perched on the backrest behind them like a bird ready to dive in.
The Carrow twins lounged with chaotic symmetry, one tossing an enchanted coin in the air, the other watching it with mild obsession. And Luna... Luna was humming softly, tracing her finger in circles on the floor. Completely tuned in and tuned out at once.
I stood. Not dramatically. Just enough.
"Alright," I said, letting the word settle.
Every eye turned.
I kept it simple. "I want us to become Animagi."
Silence.
Then, predictably, Tracey.
"...What?" Her brow furrowed. "Like turning into animals? On purpose?"
"Yes," I said, voice even. "Controlled transformation. Full-body. Magical registration optional."
Hermione inhaled. "That process is highly restricted. The spells are unstable, the timeline's absurd, and you need Ministry approval just to—"
"We're not going to the Ministry," I said.
Hermione's mouth snapped shut. She stared at me. Then at Harry. Then back at me.
"We're doing this," I continued, "because it makes us harder to track, harder to kill, and harder to predict."
"That's... a bit grim," Neville said softly.
"Also true," Blaise murmured.
"It's illegal," Hermione added, crossing her arms.
"So is half of what we've done this year," Tracey muttered.
"Why now?" Daphne asked, sharp and clear.
I met her eyes. "Because we're growing stronger. Every month. But strength paints a target. Eventually, someone's going to come for us. And when they do, I want more than just spells between us and a wand."
Susan leaned forward. "You think this'll protect us?"
"I think it'll prepare us."
Luna spoke next. "What kind of animal do you think I'll become?"
"Something with too many legs," Blaise said.
"Or none," she replied, smiling faintly. "Maybe I'll be mist."
Millicent looked at me. "You really believe we can pull this off?"
"I do," I said. "I've researched the process. The true one. Not the Ministry version. The initial step is an intent ritual. Long. Personal. Magic that digs into your core."
"Ritual magic?" Hannah asked, brow rising.
"Yes. Each of us will need to make a potion. Not just drink it—bond with it. It'll be tied to who we are. When we're ready, it'll tell us our form."
"And after that?" Daphne asked.
"Observation. Dreamwork. Months of training. Practice, meditation, symbolic alignment. We don't force the transformation—we invite it."
"Sounds like therapy with extra steps," Blaise muttered.
Hermione looked down, thinking hard. "And if we fail?"
"We won't," I said simply.
"You're sure about that?"
"No. But I'm willing to try. And I wouldn't ask any of you if I didn't believe you could do it."
That landed. They heard it.
This wasn't about showing off. This was preparation. Intention. Unity.
Neville cleared his throat. "So… where do we start?"
I nodded to the side table. A box sat there, sealed with seven protective runes.
"We start with this."
I lifted the lid.
Inside: twelve small vials. Each one labeled with a name. Each containing a swirl of murky silver liquid, pulsing faintly.
"This is the base. Distilled under lunar alignment, brewed in silence, protected from outside magic. It's stable. But inert."
Tracey leaned in. "You brewed these?"
"Over winter break."
"With what time?"
"I don't sleep much."
Hermione picked up hers carefully, turning it over in her fingers. "This is... not standard. Where did you get the recipe?"
"Felix. He found a variation in a dragonkin transformation text. Eastern lineage. Older than the British Ministry, which means more honest."
"And more dangerous," she added.
"Also that."
They each took their vial. One by one. No more arguing.
Susan uncorked hers and sniffed. "Smells like ink and electricity."
"That's your soul talking," I said.
"...She's going to write that down," Hannah whispered to Millicent.
"I already did," Luna replied, unbothered.
I stepped back, letting them sit with it. The room quieted again.
Then Blaise spoke, low and thoughtful.
"If we do this… if we really become Animagi… there's no going back. It changes you. Not just physically. Symbolically."
"Good," Daphne said. "I'm tired of being prey."
We all looked at her.
She didn't blink.
I smiled.
Harry looked up. "I'm in. If we do this together."
Hermione followed. "Fine. But I want oversight. And weekly notes. And backup plans."
"Obviously," I said.
"Obviously," she repeated, deadpan.
Tracey downed her whole vial like it was Firewhisky. "So... what now?"
"Now," I said, "we meditate."
Blaise groaned. "Of course we do."
"Every night. Five minutes. Just listen to the vial. If it warms, you're ready for the first step."
"What's the first step?" Hannah asked.
"Intention ink," I said. "We'll each draw a rune on our chest. Every day. The same one. Until it stops fading."
"And when it doesn't fade?" Susan asked.
"Then we'll start dreaming."
"And when we dream?" Daphne added.
I smiled faintly. "We learn to shift."
There was no cheer. No triumphant moment.
Just twelve kids, sitting in a circle, holding their futures in fragile glass.
Quiet.
Focused.
Willing.
Somewhere down the line, one of us will fail. One of us might break.
But not tonight.
Tonight, we begin.
And something wild starts growing.