They were still drinking tea with Harry's masterpiece pie in the kitchen of the house on Privet Drive. Snape in that same gray soft suit looked calm and... homey. Harry smiled mentally: who could have thought such a thing would happen? That from a spiteful, even hateful professor would emerge... an excellent older companion. Harry had long ago purposefully studied his family tree and very much regretted that the Princes weren't related to him in any distant way. Because when he was truly passionate about something, no one understood him like Snape. Well, and vice versa, it seemed, too. The past two years seemed like a stupid and strange dream.
"And why are you so displeased with the appearance of a relative?" Snape inquired. "I think I told you everything about magical naming. Besides, Black is your father's closest friend. You'll be able to ask him about many things when we manage to unspell him. Information, Harry, is worth its weight in gold. And loyalty—even more so."
Potter sighed.
"Don't we have few worries without him? Now we have to hide him from everyone, then somehow turn him into a human... And hide him again, more carefully, because those, what are they called, dementions could sense him."
"Dementors, Harry. I've prepared a book for you here..."
"Ooh, thank you! Yeah," the quite smiling boy snatched up the old edition, stroked the binding and pressed it to his stomach. "And also he throws himself at you, that's completely beyond the pale! Why do I need an easily excitable unbalanced cretin as a relative who dreams of eating or at least biting those who are really... important and needed by me?"
"Such words you've learned..."
"Smetvik said it recently, so I clarified later, in the dictionary," Harry smiled.
"The matter is, in a way, about me," Snape admitted. "We really did feud quite seriously during our studies."
"Somehow I don't believe you bullied him..."
"I fought back. And not always by fair means."
"Do you... regret it?"
"Not at all. There were four of them, after all. And I learned to make friends, perhaps, by fifth or sixth year. Then there were three of us," Snape darkened. "Just don't ask anymore, please."
"Then Black is all the more wrong. And..."
Snape raised his hand, stopping Harry.
"The thing is, animagus form promotes a rollback of consciousness in adults—to youth, in the young—to childhood. So I hope that if Black finally becomes human, we'll have a personality that's more adequate and flexible. Though still unpleasant... You need protection, Harry, besides what Professor Flitwick and I can give you. And I'm counting on the dog."
"Really? But then why didn't you use the reversal spell on him—it exists, I read about it!"
"The problem is that with forced reverse transformation, the body transforms, but everything else may remain characteristic of the animagus form, and forever. After short-term transformation this is almost not dangerous, but in Black's case... And it's also a very painful process. Remember how you spewed flames? This is something similar, but it doesn't start inside, but outside, from the extremities, usually."
Harry shuddered. He wouldn't wish such sensations on anyone in his life. But if Snape says so, then... he knows? From where? The man, as if reading his thoughts, answered briefly:
"Cruciatus. Riddle often... practiced."
"Ah..."
"Yes, on me too. But less. I prepared potions and healed. By the way, don't forget about tracking charms tuned to people."
"Right... So we wouldn't have been able to learn anything then, and the charms would have detected him immediately. I see," Harry suddenly smiled slyly. "And it's great that Dumbledore just before all this tasked you with picking me up from the Dursleys for lessons!"
"Yes, we were lucky there. Otherwise I'd have had to go under Polyjuice. And you would have had two uncles. Or aunts."
Harry snorted, but another important question interrupted the desire to laugh:
"Professor, why might a wizard not be able to transform back?"
"There are several reasons. The first is magical exhaustion. The second is physical. And the third, which is more a pattern derived from practice long ago—the more time a wizard spends in the guise of their beast, the more difficult the return to human form becomes. The animagus form seems to 'grow on,' strives to become dominant. Nature is strong."
"So Black has all three reasons. At once. That's bad. And it's also strange why there's nothing about this in 'Advanced Transfiguration.' It's dangerous!"
"I agree. And until we figure this out... And in 'Transfiguration' I advise you to reread the chapter, you missed something in it. I'll ask tomorrow."
Harry nodded in agreement and continued his reasoning.
"He'll spend more and more time as a dog. And that will make transformation even more difficult! It turns out he has almost no chance?"
"Well, not quite. In any case there are chances, but yes, with each day they decrease."
"Bad."
"Of course. With a dog, Legilimency can only read feelings and emotions, and formed thoughts, even if they exist, are outside the access zone of any Legilimens if, hm, the animal is awake. The only plus is that even the best Occlumens in animagus form cannot lie, confuse, hide, or distort their true feelings."
"That's why you believed Black at first glance..."
"And you yourself, Harry?"
"Well yes," the boy sighed long. "And... a sleeping one, no way?"
"Sleep with open eyes is incredibly rare, though in principle possible. But do you even imagine what would have to happen for Black to sleep looking into my eyes?"
Harry smiled humorlessly. And then something ran across his face, and Snape understood: something was about to happen now.
"Professor... What if we change animagus forms, won't they 'grow on'?"
"What do you mean 'change animagus forms'?"
"Well, for example, now a dog, now a cat."
"How do you imagine this?"
"Well, you yourself recently recalled Polyjuice."
Snape leaned forward predatorily. There it was. And what an idea! And a whole layer of possible interactions. Completely unexplored. And before Potter, such a thing hadn't even occurred to anyone!
"A very interesting question, Potter. Simply excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor!"
Harry laughed, and the professor continued:
"Actually, it's completely unknown whether Polyjuice Potion will work on an animagus form, and if it does work, then how exactly. And also the question is whether he'll drink it, but I think you'll manage that somehow. Yes, it's definitely worth trying to influence in such a way as to try to break, so to speak, the fusion mode. At least, it will add more chances for him."
"To the laboratory?" Harry jumped up. He hadn't brewed Polyjuice yet and was quite keen to try.
"First shopping, I don't have nearly everything required. Especially since we can't afford the classic Polyjuice time-wise. No, not to Diagon Alley or Knockturn. There are enough other interesting places in England, and for now I'll just Apparate you there. Or will you wait here?"
Harry shook his head desperately.
"We're in a hurry, aren't we?" Snape had already thrown on his cloak and made an inviting gesture. "By the way, the Headmaster is paying for ingredients for our lessons, and he left the choice of potions to me."
Harry burst out laughing, almost getting tangled in his own robe.
"What irony," Filius Flitwick in person stood in the doorway. "What's Dumbledore doing, is he really getting old? Will you take an old half-goblin with you?"
His drawing in the greeting for Harry turned out to be prophetic, because an hour later the three of them were already in Snape's laboratory. They couldn't spend a whole month on the potion, the classic route definitely fell away. And so the new composition and technology of its preparation could already become a recognized discovery, if everything were properly researched, tested, and patented. However, they hoped that everything was ahead. But for now they just had to solve current problems to live to see that very "ahead," and each of them had a good incentive.
Under these "incentives," including Harry's ideas, which immediately became overgrown with his own calculations and new thoughts like trees with foliage in spring, Snape had already started a second thick notebook...
***
Early morning found in the garage a company consisting of a huge dog and two boys.
"Black, do you want to become a kitty, like Mrs. Figg's?"
"Grrr?!"
Instead of answering, Harry pulled a vial of Polyjuice from his pocket.
The dog barked in puzzlement and backed away in fear.
"But why-y?" Dudley inquired, extending his hand to ruffle the shaggy head. "Aren't you interested? And they also say it'll be easier to unspell later. Harry says so, and he knows."
The dog glanced at Potter warily, but obvious interest lit up in his eyes.
"Or a little kitty?" Harry couldn't resist needling. Though he also had to warn.
"Oww-w-w!.." Sirius protested, slightly tucking his tail.
"It's not certain yet, of course, that it'll work on you at all, but... you see, Dudley took a tuft of fur from the bushes when he was chasing the neighbor's kneazles. So we honestly don't know whose it is."
"R-r-r," the dog backed away again, shaking his shaggy head.
"Should I understand this as you don't want to be a cat? But we can't turn you into a human: the charms will detect you immediately! I read about dementors here, somehow don't want to meet them yet."
The dog shuddered with his whole body and barked in agreement.
"So choose: either you continue to sit here, or you go out for a walk, but only when you drink the potion."
"Come on, the main thing is it's not Mrs. Figg herself in the Polyjuice!" Dudley finished him off.
"Woof?.."
After a couple of days in the garage, spent almost without going outside, Sirius was ready to drink anything... A cat? Let it be a cat... Who cares! After all, he'll finally be able to look at the sun, otherwise it's just like in prison, the only joy is that the boys come in. Well, and it's quite warm, yes. But these horrible gray walls press, take away air, and sometimes it becomes very hard for him to breathe. And nearby, just beyond the door—a green yard. And Harry, it seems, still needs him a little. And he's needed by this sturdy guy, Harry's brother. What a nice fellow!..
Harry poured half the Polyjuice into a bowl, carefully looked at the vial's graduation, added a few more drops from it and placed it in front of Black.
The dog thoughtfully examined the contents.
"Well, what are you looking at, drink already."
He sighed and lowered his muzzle. Sniffed. Licked and began to lap.
"This is half of what was prepared, it's unknown how much you'll need, Snape calculated by weight by eye."
Hearing the name of his old enemy, the dog growled, but immediately got a tap on the nose:
"Drink already. And don't forget to say thank you later!" the godson got angry.
Sirius sighed and continued to lap until the nasty liquid was finished. Ugh, disgusting. Good thing at least it doesn't stink.
After a couple of minutes, Harry and Dudley were critically surveying a wolfhound of amazing coloring: ginger with stripes...
"Well, that's cool..."
"Heh. Original."
The dog looked questioningly, then examined his paws, for some reason sniffed them and again raised puzzled eyes to the boys.
"Maybe we should bring him a mirror here? He understands everything!"
The dog started wagging his tail on the floor.
Harry sighed:
"And how will we explain this to your mum?"
"Ah... can't you do it yourself?"
"I don't know," Harry thought. "But I can try. Only we need to pour more first, we can't let him out like this, on the contrary everyone will come running..."
"That's true," Dudley looked appraisingly at the almost orange dog. "Turned out bright. But beautiful."
Black sighed long.
Harry poured into the bowl another half of the remaining potion, and Black, not waiting for an invitation, drank it. Lapped it up, that is. And began to gradually decrease in size.
"Finally," Dudley rejoiced. "It's working!"
And Harry placed his palms against the wall, concentrated, whispered something, and after some time it really began to... reflect. True, not very much like a mirror—rather, as if a thin silvery film covered a piece of concrete.
Sirius Black stared at his reflection. In it, a huge ginger tomcat fluffed out his tail, arched his back and howled...
"Probably from grief," Dudley commented. "Being a dog was better for him, it seems."
"Quiet, quiet," Harry placated the cat. "At least now you can walk, and anyway, this is all only for an hour. What grief! And no need to yell like that!"
The quickly calmed cat glanced at the boys and with a contemptuous muzzle decorated with long white whiskers, proceeded to the yard, nervously waving his fluffy tail. The boys followed him out.
"Auntie! It worked!" Black (at the moment, more like Red) from the godson's yell nearly jumped on all four paws. Who he was now, he didn't even want to think about yet. But to lie in the sun belly up, that's something. Which he didn't fail to do.
Petunia Dursley looked out into the yard. The cat tucked his tail and tried to simultaneously whimper and make an endearing face. While lying on his back on the grass, uh-huh. She laughed and disappeared into the kitchen.
The kneazle with the habits of an Irish wolfhound made an indelible impression, especially with his attempts to bark: the result was a completely wild "meowf," and the whiskered muzzle immediately became annoyed and embarrassed. And he also ran excellently after a stick that was thrown to him as a retrieve. Harry decided to save the second portion of the potion for the evening when his uncle returned: he definitely deserved such a spectacle! And he'd show Snape in the Pensieve, of course.
They were about to let the tomcat out into the common yard, but Harry remembered in time, realizing that Mrs. Figg would be very interested where the Dursleys got this "gift"—they couldn't have bought such a one anywhere! Only she had such cats, she'd know.
The cat, that is the kneazle, whose legs and muzzle were already starting to lengthen, and whose whiskers formed a characteristic fringe, was urgently returned to the garage. Especially since the desire to run was cut off. Of course, getting used to a completely different body shape again, and most importantly—a significantly shifted center of gravity. He didn't want to be everyone's laughingstock. That's enough fun. Or was this the feline nature starting to show? He nervously twitched his tail.
And Mrs. Dursley with the boys held another "war council," to which soon joined the notorious Potions professor, who with the Headmaster's submission and the hosts' permission had been wandering to Privet Drive, number four, for several days now almost like to his own home. Mrs. Dursley's baking excellently killed the bad taste after daily reports to the Headmaster.
"Excellent, but we need to consider other options. I now know the dose, thanks to Harry."
"So the cat is out. Those neighborhood monsters will just tear an ordinary cat to pieces..." Petunia still found it funny, though she felt a bit sorry for the unfortunate wizard. For the outrage committed at their wedding, he'd already gotten his due.
"But they could have given a dog as a gift," the son inserted.
"Exactly! A bulldog. Like Marge's, an English one. At least that will be believable. Though I never intended to get pets. But my son twists me around his finger..." she said in such a tone that Dudley cringed. For the dart he'd recently really gotten it...
"And even more believable if we give Duddikins a puppy," Harry sang in the same sweet voice.
Dudley produced Black's favorite song: "Oww-w-w-w..." But actually didn't get upset at all.
"Marge wanted to visit briefly in the next few days."
"Very convenient," Snape responded. "I'll leave the base, and Harry will be able to do the last step independently."
He turned to him.
"To extend the potion's action, try adding a little of Black's saliva."
"And how much?"
"You see, no data exists on this matter. This can only be determined experimentally. Will you describe the sequence?"
"So," Harry lit up, "I can... myself? Start with some dose, then gradually increase and time it?"
"Something like that, yes."
"Can I go?"
***
"Sirius, will you spit a little for me right here?" Harry stunned the dog.
He got up and looked at the boy, not understanding what they wanted from him, and wagged his tail just in case.
"Come on, I need a little of your saliva. Please-e-ease..."
His godson is asking... Asking very much. Is it really too much to ask?!
One problem—dogs can't spit!
When half an hour later Dudley Dursley came to check on his charge, he encountered a strange picture.
The dog sat gazing dreamily somewhere up so that Dudley also looked but saw nothing except a slightly cracked ceiling. Near Black with his perfectly clean bowl sat Harry, melodiously and juicily describing the smell, taste and other beauty of a piece of bacon... fresh sausages... aromatic sausage...
Dudley involuntarily swallowed and heard something plop into the bowl.
"The-ere, good boy, clever, excellent... Stick out your tongue. Yes!"
The satisfied cousin rose from his knees, holding in his hand a bowl full of... dog drool. The appetite that had been awakened instantly evaporated.
"Ew... Why do you need this?"
"I'm going to experiment!" he smiled joyfully.
The dog hiccuped, and then sighed heavily.
"Don't be afraid," Harry patted him on the neck. "We won't hurt you. Understand, the thing is..."
And he told the dog, and also his cousin, what the problem actually was.
"What a smart godson I have!" Black admired.
"So what, he'll then become human and leave? Just like that?" thought Dudley. "I want a dog... A real one. A puppy."