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A Stag Animagus


Minerva McGonagall was waiting in her office for James Potter on their previously agreed upon date for resuming their animagus classes. She was reading a book, her glasses low on her nose, when the knock came on the door and she lowered it to her lap. “Come in, Potter.”

The door cracked open and James came in, carrying his copy of Releasing the Animagus Within under one arm. He closed the door and stood before her a moment. “Come have a seat,” she said. McGonagall slid a marker into her book and put it down on a shelf. When she turned back, James had taken his seat and the glass deer figurine she’d sent along to St. Mungo’s sat on the desk before her. Her eyes raised to meet James’s.

“Professor?” he asked.

She looked at the deer, then got up slowly and walked over to the shelf and picked up the teacup from James’s first year, carried it over to the desk, and put it down next to the deer figurine. James stared at it - the cup’s blue floral pattern was trimmed with gold. He raised his eyebrow. McGonagall tipped the cup onto it’s side, showing the bottom of the interior of the cup to him. At the bottom of the cup’s curve were two blue deer - a doe and a stag - together in a meadow of grass. James stared at the deer and then looked up at McGonagall.

“I noticed it after your first lesson,” she said, putting the cup down.

“You think my animagus form might be… be a deer, then?” James asked, trying to keep his voice level.

“A stag, specifically. A stag is a very interesting animagus,” McGonagall said, and she turned and pulled a book from her desk drawer and popped it open on the desk at a place she’d put a marker in and slid it across the desk for James to read.

A stag animagus signifies a strong personality - indicating speed and pride, a strong will, and strong empathy. The stag is a natural leader, looked up to by his peers, with a courage uniquely his own… The stag is pure-hearted; quick-witted, quick to anger, and quick to protect… A natural care-taker, passionate in love, and unrelenting in defending the ones they consider family, the stag mates for life. A wizard with a stag animagus is courageous, loving, and loyal. The stag is a very noble and impressive animagus form to take.” He stared at the text for a long moment, his heart pounding.

Was he all those things?

James looked up at McGonagall. “You think that’s me, Professor?” he asked.

McGonagall replied, “What do you think, Potter?”

“I think this sounds like it’s describing a pretty good bloke…” James said slowly, hesitant to lay a claim on the description.

McGonagall watched him closely. “Mr. Potter,” she said, reaching forward and nudging the tea cup and the figurine of the deer toward him. “I think that it fits you rather perfectly.”

He stared at the description for some time. Of course he’d known his form before, but hearing McGonagall reinforce it, to confirm what he already knew, and tell him that all that stuff being a stag meant about him… it touched him so deeply that he felt a lump rise up in his throat and he felt truly proud of himself. Being a stag wasn’t just cool, it was noble and impressive form to take.

“Being a stag, however, does mean that you’ll be needing to work much harder at your lessons than some other forms,” McGonagall said.

James tilted his head slightly, interested, “Is becoming one form of creature… harder than becoming another? Say a stag over… I dunno, a - a dog or … or a rat?”

“Oh much harder than a rodent,” replied McGonagall.

“How does one, er, work on - on being able to transform, Professor?” James asked.

“Practice.” McGonagall replied, “When I first transformed, it took six months to fully achieve the form of the cat. Many times, I would try and sprout only whiskers from my nose, or grow a tail. I became quite frustrated, trying and trying to push the transformation further, but it seemed never to happen…” She smiled, remembering, “I cried to Professor -- ahem -- Headmaster Dumbledore many times about it, and he would comfort me and tell me to dig deeper, look deeper into my spirit, for it is from the spirit that the animagus comes. It will come, and when it does, it will be spectacular, that’s what he used to say. And the day it did - oh, Potter, it was a spectacular day, indeed. I thought it would never happen!” She looked at him. “But there is quite a bit of work to do first.”

James looked down at his lap. Next of course was the potion, the mandrake leaves under the tongue… the steps he’d already taken… the ones he didn’t know how to avoid repeating. The ones he couldn’t take. He’d have to end the lessons… there was no way around it. Over the last five months, he’d gotten all of what he needed for information from McGonagall. He opened his mouth to tell her --

“I am very glad that you’ve decided to work on becoming an animagus, Potter,” Professor McGonagall said, and her eyes glistened behind her glasses with pride as she looked at him across the table. “I knew from your first year that you would be great at Transfiguration.” She hesitated, “I know that, as a Professor, I shouldn’t have favorite students, but I must say that sometimes it’s quite impossible to avoid.” She took a deep breath as James peered up at her. “For next week, Potter, I should like you to research the following potions ingredients.” She handed him a list, “And we’ll talk more next week.”

James took the list. There it was - all the things that he, Sirius, and Peter had stolen from Slughorn’s store way back in their second year… his mouth was quite dry. “Yes, Professor.” He got up and headed for the door, then paused and turned back, running over to the desk and lifting the little glass deer. “I almost forgot this,” he said, “It means a good deal to me.” He winked. “See you next week, Professor.” And he quickly ducked out the door, tucking the deer into his bag safely.




“So what do I do now?!” James asked, throwing himself across his bed.

Sirius sighed, “You know I hate to say it, but you’re going to have to break Professor Minnie’s heart, mate. There’s not another way about it.” He handed the list of ingredients back to James. “You knew this was coming.”

“I thought it would take a bit longer to get here,” James explained. “And I didn’t know about the tea cup then, either.”

Sirius shook his head, sighing.

“I don’t wanna hurt her.”

“I know, mate. I don’t want you to.”

James took of his glasses and ran his hands over his eyes, rubbing them, and sighing heavily.

The door opened up then and Remus came in, followed by Peter, returning from a study session in the common room with Lily Evans and some of the other Gryffindors. “I don’t know that the ball gazing is so much visual imaging, as it is a conjuring of mental imaging, like how you see memories,” Peter was saying as they came in, “I mean that when you look into the ball and do the whole meditation thing like Mopsus says, you don’t see things with your eyes in there - you see it with your mind -”

“But then why do you need the ball at all?” Remus asked, tugging his tie loose from his neck.

“Because it channels the energy,” Peter explained.

Remus ran his hand through his hair (Sirius was staring at him as he did) and piled his books up on his desk. “So you’ve actually seen something with the crystal, then?” Remus asked, “Like really?”

“Of course he hasn’t,” said Sirius, butting into the conversation, standing up with a liquid sort of grace and sliding across the room to slip his arm ‘round Peter, “None of us have because Mopsus is a ruddy ol’ codger. He’s a phony! Ain’t no way Mopsus is as grand as he thinks he is. Blighter can’t see a bloody thing - physically or otherwise. Don’t go getting your knickers bunched up over Mopsus, Pete.”

James lowered his hands and shoved his glasses up his nose, looking ‘round at his three mates.

“Well it so happens I do think I have seen some things in that crystal,” Peter said, “It’s not phony, it’s just maybe you have to look at it and believe in it. You’re so skeptical that you don’t see nothin’! You don’t really want to see anything. You want Mopsus to be a hack.”

“Oh nothing could give me more pleasure than to find out that old coot’s a hack!” Sirius said. “I didn’t go into it thinking that, though. Just that he’s been teaching us about crystal balls since September - here it is January, and not a single person in that class has figured out how to actually see anything, and he acts like that’s normal. It’s the biggest waste of a class I ever saw.”

Peter pursed his lips and scurried out from under Sirius’s arm to his bed.

James leaned back into his pillows. “Just shut up Sirius and let him think it’s real if he wants to.”

Sirius grabbed Remus’s desk chair, and sat in it backwards. His chin was on the straight back and leaning it so it only stood on the two back legs, his knees spread wide, feet balancing the chair as he straddled it, looking quite sour.

“It is real,” Peter argued.

Remus said, “I, for one, am not doubting you, on the record, Pete, I just am curious how you do it. I haven’t seen anything in my crystal yet -- other than my own reflection, that is.”

“Like I said, it’s not seeing with your eyes you do with the crystal, it’s with your mind,” Peter said. “Like a dream or a memory.”

“Well how do you know that you’re seeing anything at all, then, and you aren’t just conjuring up memories?” Remus asked.

“Because I don’t remember it happening,” Peter said with a shrug. “That’s the power of the crystal ball showing me the past.”

“And how do you know what you’re seeing in the ball isn’t the future?” asked James, propping his head up with his hand.

“Because my mum’s alive in the visions I have.”

They all fell silent a long moment.

“Well that’d do it,” Sirius said, and he let the chair fall back to the floor like normal with a thump. “You ever seen the future at all, Pete? What’s it like? Am I still this good looking if fifty years? Look it up in that ball of yours.” He was mocking.

Peter turned red. “You don’t need to be mean about it.” He looked at James, “This is why I didn’t tell you lot.” And quickly, he hurried out of the room.

James and Remus both stared at Sirius.

Sirius sighed. “I know… I know… I have to go after him… say I’m sorry… stupid big mouth… I know….” he got up and left, following after Peter.

James looked over at Remus. “You fancy breaking McGonagall’s heart for me, Moony?”

Remus raised an eyebrow at James. “Come again?”

James shook his head, “Nevermind, I’m just taking the mickey... I have to tell her myself anyway.” He closed his eyes, “Just that hate being a disappointment and it seems that’s all I’ve been lately.”

“You haven’t…”

“Seems it’s all I’ve been this term.”

“Not to me,” Remus said. “Not to Sirius… I doubt to Peter.”

James shrugged, “There’s time left yet for me to let you lot down, too, don’t worry.”

Remus shook his head, “Won’t happen, mate… won’t happen.”