Transformation

Atlas couldn't believe his eyes as he looked at his reflection in the small mirror held up, or down, by Professor McGonagall. He had transformed into a bowtruckle! He had heard of them before, but he never thought he would become one himself. He looked down at his twig-like body and his tiny two leaves for hair, feeling a sense of wonder at this new form.

Just then, a bolt of lightning illuminated the sky, followed by a deafening thunderclap. The storm had arrived, and it was more intense than anyone had anticipated. The wind picked up, howling through the trees and causing the waves to crash against the shore.

Professor McGonagall quickly waved her wand, and an almost translucent barrier formed around them. The sound was dampened, and the wind and rain stayed outside.

With a sharp intake of breath, Professor McGonagall leaned in closer to Atlas, her eyes glinting with excitement. "Fascinating. Truly extraordinary," she murmured, studying him intently. "I think this will be the first documented case of a bowtruckle animagus. Mr. Graf, can you speak in that form?"

Atlas tried to answer, but only a quiet, high-pitched squeaking came out of his mouth. "It seems like you cannot," the professor observed. "Well, too bad, but I guess that maybe with a bit of training, communicating could be possible. Let's focus on getting you to return to your human form."

With a wave of her wand, her small mirror floated in front of Atlas. "It's quite simple; you just need to visualize your human form and think about the feeling of being human. It may be difficult for someone who has never been anything other than human, but I think you will get it quite quickly. Focus on the perspective of a human, on the feeling of having two legs, two hands, and symmetrical fingers and the like. It may take a while on the first try and it may help you if you try to simply compare it to your current form."

As Atlas tried to visualize himself as a human, he couldn't help but think it was a piece of cake. But as he stood there, still transformed into his bowtruckle form, he realized that it wasn't as easy as he had thought. He had only been in this new form for a few minutes, so it was hard to grasp all the changes that had taken place.

He glanced at the small floating mirror in front of him and saw that he was quite different. But it didn't feel strange to him because the new form felt so natural. It was only when he tried to move his limbs while looking at his reflection that he realized the extent of his transformation.

His once familiar feet were now root-like branches, and walking was a challenge. Keeping his balance felt like an uphill task, and he felt as though his feet didn't connect to the ground. The rainwater that was absorbed by his feet felt refreshing and cold, and he couldn't help but savor the sensation that slowly crawled up his body. His arms were incredibly flexible, but his thumbs and fingers were gone, replaced by pointy, sharp fingers. And his upper body was stiff and rigid, making it almost impossible to move like he used to.

But once he realized what his new form felt like, he began to understand the differences between being human and not.

With a deep breath, Atlas closed his eyes and focused on visualizing his human form. At first, it was a struggle to push away the image of his twiggy bowtruckle body, but he concentrated harder and harder until the differences between his two forms became clearer in his mind's eye. Slowly but surely, he felt his muscles stretch and shift as he imagined himself standing upright with two arms and two legs.

Suddenly, the transformation began, and it happened far quicker than he had anticipated. In a flash, he shot up into the air, his tiny bowtruckle form replaced by a full-grown human body standing at 1.60 meters tall.

"Excellent, Mr. Graf!" Professor McGonagal exclaimed with pride. "You managed to transform back in just seven minutes. If this were a class, I would definitely give you points for that!"

Ignoring her praise Atlas' mind was racing with questions about his new bowtruckle form. As he pondered the reason behind it, he couldn't help but voice his curiosity to Professor McGonagall.

"Professor, why am I a bowtruckle? You said that our animagus forms reflect our personalities, but I don't understand the connection," Atlas asked with genuine interest.

"Professor, didn't you say that my transformation normally has something to do with my personality? Why is my form a bowtruckle then?"

"There are many factors that could contribute to your transformation, Mr. Graf," she said. "Perhaps delving deeper into the world of bowtruckles will shed some light on the matter. However, based on your reaction, I assume you haven't had much interaction with them."

The professor's expression became more serious as she posed a question in response. "Do you have a particular fondness for trees, Atlas? Bowtruckles are known for their fierce defense of their home tree, willing to attack even the most daunting of foes in order to protect it. Their tactics are quite clever, focusing on the eyes of larger enemies and utilizing their speed and agility to evade danger."

Atlas furrowed his brow, pondering the professor's questions. He didn't feel any particular attachment to trees or plants, but maybe there was something he was missing. As he tried to recall any moments of botanical bonding, his mind drifted to his extensive knowledge of plant life. He had studied countless specimens at home, and because of his father he even studied fungi in depth. But he never saw them as anything more than ingredients for his potions.

"No, I don't think I have any particular strong connection to trees or plants in general. I mean, I studied a lot of plants at home and even more fungi, but I never saw them as anything more than ingredients." Atlas answered, thinking about what he knew about bowtruckles that he could relate to. His first thought was that maybe his sense of duty to protect the multiverse could be similar to a bowtruckles drive to protect their home tree, but he wasn't sure if that is the reason for the form.

"Ingredients, eh?" The professor leaned in, intrigued. "Bowtruckles are quite picky when it comes to choosing a home tree. They often select trees that are useful for wand making or medicine, like the Wiggenweld tree. Perhaps your affinity for a certain ingredient played a role in your transformation."

As soon as he heard the professor mention the Wiggenweld tree, Atlas felt a sudden jolt of surprise. Could it be possible that his love for the properties of the Wiggenweld potion had led to his transformation into a bowtruckle? He tried to shake off the thought, hoping that his initial guess about his personality being the cause was more likely. But deep down, he couldn't ignore the possibility that his overindulgence in the potion might have played a role in his current form. He had to admit, he may have used the potion a bit too often in recent times. But could that really be the reason for his animagus form? If it was so easy to influence the transformation then there should have been an easy way to actively control it.

As Atlas remained silent, Professor McGonagall's expression turned slightly concerned. "Regardless, we'll head back to Hogwarts for now, and I'll inform the Ministry to register you. They'll likely call you in for a checkup after the holidays, but if they are informed of your status as an animagus, you won't get in any trouble when someone reports you for being unregistered," she explained, with a firm tone that left little room for argument.

Though Atlas was initially unhappy about the prospect of registering, he understood that it was a condition set by the professor for him to continue his training. Despite her relaxed attitude during their private lessons, McGonagall remained a stickler for rules, and Atlas knew better than to push his luck with her.

---

As Atlas and Professor McGonagall arrived at Hogwarts after midnight, he quietly made his way to the common room. There, he found Hermione sleeping on the sofa by the still-warm fireplace. He didn't want to disturb her rest, knowing how hard she had worked to keep up with his grueling training schedule. Even with her perfect grades, she never let up on her studies, even subject Atlas completely discarded like History of Magic leaving little time for rest. Though he wanted to carry her to her bed, the magic barrier that prevented boys from entering the girls' dorms prevented him from doing so. Plus, he wasn't sure it was the best idea to bring her to his own bed, even though for some reason there was no barrier that kept Girls out of the boy's dorms.

As he watched Hermione sleep peacefully on the sofa, Atlas couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth towards her. She looked so peaceful, and he didn't want to disturb her. He decided it would be best to let her sleep there and went to get a blanket from his room. Carefully draping the blanket over her, he added a small piece of wood to the fireplace to keep the room warm.

But as he crawled into his own bed, he realized he had a new problem: he had no blanket. The thought of sleeping on the sofa with Hermione briefly crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. Not only would it be inappropriate, but there was barely enough room for one person, let alone two.

As he lay in bed, a small blush crept up his face as he realized that maybe puberty was starting to affect him. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

In a moment of quick thinking, Atlas came up with a solution to his blanket dilemma. He grabbed a towel and an alarm clock before transforming into a bowtruckle and settling in next to Hermione on the sofa. The transformation was surprisingly easy, and he marveled at how, after a single experience, it had become almost second nature to him.

He set his alarm, casting a silencio charm so only he could hear it, and settled in for the night. When he woke up at his usual training time, Hermione was still sleeping soundly. He transformed back and realized how effortlessly he had done so. The animagus transformation truly had become a part of him, as Professor McGonagall had promised.

Atlas considered waking Hermione up in his bowtruckle form, but he didn't want to startle her. Instead, he gently nudged her shoulder and whispered her name until she stirred from her slumber.

"Oh, did I fall asleep? Sorry, I wanted to wait for you. How was your trip? Was your transformation successful? What is your animagus form? Please say it's an otter. I love otters," said Hermione, and her excitement was palpable.

Atlas chuckled before answering, "Calm down, one thing after another. I think we should tidy up the sofa a bit. It's almost time for the others to wake up too, and breakfast today is two hours early so that we can catch the train in Hogsmead."

"What? Why didn't you wake me up when you came back?" Hermione was a little upset when she realized it was already morning and wanted to ran towards her dorm to get a few necessities.

"Hey, that's my blanket! Stop!" he yelled after her, but she was already gone. After a few minutes, she returned with a toothbrush in her mouth and returned him the blanket with a small pink blush on her cheeks, saying they would talk on the train and that he shouldn't leave out a single detail.

Atlas watched Hermione hectically run around, even though she had already prepared everything for their leave days ago.

The Great Hall buzzed with excitement as students chattered about their holiday plans and Christmas wishes. Atlas surveyed the sea of sleepy and excited faces, admiring the festive decorations that adorned the walls and ceiling.

As they left the hall an hour later, the sight of the thestrals pulling their carriage caught Atlas off guard. He couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine at the sight of these bony creatures with their sharp wings and eerie appearance. He recalled that only those who had witnessed death could see them, and for a moment, he pondered the significance of this fact.

Atlas realized that the death of his family in his old world seemed to even affect him in this world, as he hadn't seen someone die in this world yet. For a moment, he was theorizing about the reasons for that and if seeing someone die would affect the soul in any way or what really affected his ability to see the thestrals.

But before he could delve deeper into his thoughts, Hermione interrupted him, sensing something was amiss. He quickly brushed off her concerns and climbed into the carriage, joined by Neville, who stumbled onto the scene with all the grace of a baby hippogriff walking on a frozen lake. Neville's appearance annoyed Hermione a bit, as she knew that he would probably follow them on the train too and would rob her of her opportunity to talk with Atlas alone.

Atlas had fun teasing Hermione as he invited Neville to sit with them on the train. He originally wanted to invite Dean and Seamus too, but there wasn't enough room for five people in the compartments. They instead shared a compartment with Lee Jordan, the Quidditch commentator who usually hangs around with the Weasley Twins.

Neville was happy to be integrated and began to share his plans for the holidays. "... and then I will go with my grandmother to Olivanders to get a new wand. She wasn't happy when I told her that I wanted a new one, as she thought I would disgrace my father's heritage, but when I told her that Professor Ward strongly recommended that I get a new one, she immediately agreed and said that if he really thought it was a good idea, then it probably was."

Neville blossomed around Atlas and Hermione, who always treated him with respect and kindness. They didn't belittle him like the others and always supported him when he struggled, though they encouraged him to work things out on his own as much as possible. Hermione was always eager to lend a hand, but Atlas reminded her that Neville needed to develop his own skills and confidence if he ever hoped to become a capable wizard. Despite this, Neville's confidence grew every day, even though it wasn't as visible when other people were around, and Snape's presence alone could transform him into a quivering mess.

After some time, Atlas decided that he shouldn't keep her in suspense any longer and talked to Neville.

"Hey Neville, If it's alright with you, could you give Hermione and me a bit of time alone? We need to talk about some, ... private stuff, and, you know, a bit of privacy would be nice for that. Dean, Lee, and Seamus are in the compartment just two doors next to us, and I'm sure they would be happy to talk with you. Tell them a few stories about your uncle Algie; he seems like a really funny guy."

"Oh, sure, no problem. If it takes longer and we don't see each other again, I wish you happy holidays." answered Neville while leaving the compartment.