"Harry Potter- Ravenclaw"Chapter 35: First Transformation—The Soul as Garment
The pounding heartbeats grew ever faster, until the two rhythms merged—indistinguishable, wild, and relentless—hammering through Wyzett's mind. Vivid images began to surface:
Neck feathers, a burnished gold-brown… wings of ancient bronze… a beak hooked like hammered gold… eyes dark as polished obsidian…
The burning pain from the potion intensified, spreading through his body until it truly felt as if he were melting.
The Animagus potion was a rare and peculiar brew. Wyzett had discussed it with Professor McGonagall, and together they'd surmised that the potion acted as a safeguard, helping a wizard confront and comprehend the nature of their own soul.
But "safe" was a relative term. The Animagus transformation itself was always fraught with danger.
That danger pressed in on Wyzett now. He felt himself swept away by instinct—not human instinct, but something deeper and stranger, radiating from the animal image in his mind.
Instincts surged—
He fought to restrain them—
Over and over, he forced himself to keep the animal urges at bay, until, at last, they began to blend with his own. Human and animal instincts merged, fusing into a singular, extraordinary sensation.
According to Professor McGonagall's notes, this wondrous feeling—the union of two instincts—was the very sense of the soul.
To experience it was to begin to understand the soul itself.
"The process is smooth… but didn't I already reach this point with the Patronus Charm…?"
Even as the thought flickered, Wyzett felt himself detach, as if slipping into a "third-person perspective." Suddenly, he was observing everything from outside himself.
"This… isn't how it was described in Professor McGonagall's notes!"
With this new vantage, his mind seemed to spark with clarity. The reason became obvious: under Snape's guidance, he'd already achieved a level of soul-understanding through the Patronus Charm. Now, the potion's protective magic was leading him even deeper, toward a more profound comprehension.
This strange "third-person" state was the doorway.
He floated in a boundless darkness—an endless universe. Only the brilliant light before him illuminated the void.
He saw himself: a candle, melting away.
The animal form was the mold. As his own substance melted, it poured into that mold, reshaping his existence…
"The soul can merge… can be shaped… just like when I transformed the Christmas cactus!"
A jolt of inspiration struck.
"The soul is just another garment! It can be studied… and changed!"
...
Lightning split the sky. Thunder boomed. Rain lashed down in sheets.
As Wyzett watched his soul pour into the "mold" and take on the animal form, his physical body began to change as well.
Luna's hands clenched so tightly her pale skin flushed crimson, like living rubies.
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall stood rigid, eyes wide and unblinking, wands gripped tight.
They watched as Wyzett's form shifted, his clothes dissolving into a layer of fine down.
Down gave way to new feathers—bronze and gold—layer upon layer, unfurling at impossible speed, as if time itself had been sped up.
Professor McGonagall exhaled softly. "A bird Animagus…"
Dumbledore nodded. "Ravenclaw—somehow, I'm not surprised."
Wyzett's body convulsed, trembling as his limbs and head transformed. His hands fused, his feet split into three talons forward, one back, claws curling into sharp hooks.
Professor McGonagall glanced down at Luna, her tone gentle. "Don't worry. Everything's still going well."
"Mhm." Luna didn't unclasp her hands. "I know, Professor."
Suddenly, Wyzett flung his arms wide. They stretched like rubber, lengthening in an instant, while feathers erupted in a torrent—until at last, they formed broad, powerful wings.
Thunder crashed, lighting the world in blinding white.
His feathers shimmered in the lightning, reflecting a radiant gold—soft and dazzling, like the very first light of dawn.
Wyzett shook his head, basking in the storm's glow. His head elongated, a golden, hooked beak forming; his eyes became deep and black as obsidian.
Most of his feathers were bronze, but his neck, head, and tail were burnished gold. At the tips of his wings, a streak of fiery red marked him.
"Phoenix markings? That must be a visible trait," Dumbledore murmured. "Wyzett's form… it's a golden eagle."
Professor McGonagall nodded, letting out a breath. "But… he's enormous…"
The golden eagle that was Wyzett now stretched nearly five feet from beak to tail, with a wingspan over ten feet—far larger than any normal eagle.
Still holding his wings wide, Professor McGonagall turned to Luna. "Miss Lovegood, Wyzett needs your help now."
Seeing Wyzett's successful transformation, Luna finally relaxed.
At the professor's cue, she didn't speak right away. Instead, she closed her eyes, as if searching for something unseen.
When she opened them, she said, "Professor, Wyzett's completely lucid… I can feel it… He's… studying something."
"But…" Professor McGonagall adjusted her glasses.
"We should trust Luna," Dumbledore interjected. "You're worrying too much. In truth, he's just holding his form—no sign of losing control."
"No sign of trouble…" Professor McGonagall mused, as if remembering something. "Researching, you say? Perhaps he's made another discovery."
"Oh?" Dumbledore smiled, intrigued. "A new discovery?"
Professor McGonagall explained, "He once told me that practicing the Animagus transformation can lead to an understanding of the soul, but he'd already achieved that, really."
"A wonderful coincidence!" Dumbledore stroked his beard, the corners of his mouth lifting. "He mastered the Patronus Charm through Severus's unorthodox method."
"A special Patronus that understands the soul, and an Animagus transformation that does the same… Few have ever managed both. He's blazing a path few even imagine!"
...
"If the soul is just a 'garment'…" Wyzett thought, "maybe I could possess more…"
But before he could explore further, the third-person awareness faded. The infinite universe vanished.
Lightning and thunder crashed around him. Cold rain soaked his feathers, weighing down his wings.
He was back in reality. The Animagus transformation had succeeded—smoothly, perfectly.
Yet it was the new discovery about the soul that thrilled him even more.
But first…
Wyzett looked toward Luna and the others. He saw Luna's tightly clasped hands, the tension on her face, and instinctively tried to call out.
"Screee… screee…"
Translator's Note: Real golden eagles actually sound more like chicks than the dramatic eagle cries in movies—those are usually red-tailed hawks!
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