The classes of the previous week had been cancelled, in order to make the Saturday class more palatable for the students.  It also permitted Leopold to screen out those who weren't really interested in the class.  If they weren't willing to give up part of their weekend to learn about the requirements and necessary effort that needed to be put into becoming an animagus, then in all likelihood they wouldn't have what it took to become one.  Mere interest was not enough.  He was living proof of that.

"I'd like to thank those of you who chose to join this class.  I'm sure that your peers who are not here and chuckling behind their hands at your dedication.  We are here to learn about one of the least understood transfigurations.  Although far more common than morphimagi, animagi hold a fascination for most witches and wizards.  The ability to transform one's self, without the use of an apparent spell, compels us.  Not everyone has the ability to perform this magnificent feat.  There are master wizards who cannot do it.  I cannot do it but I am in august company.  Albus Dumbeldore, who is widely considered one of the greatest wizards who has ever lived lacked the power.  Fortunately, we have with us today two individuals with the power to become animals.  One you likely know by reputation, since she is a witch who is world reknown for her ability and her spirited defense of this school during the last rising of Voldemorte.  She is our very own headmistress, Minerva McGonagall."

Leopold waited for the polite applause to die down before he spoke again.  "Our other guest is a former student, hailing from House Ravenclaw.  He currently works with the Ministry of Magic in the Werewolf Capture Unit.  Please welcome Michael Styx."

Michael smiled and gave the class a small bow.  He looked to be in his late twenties  and his  eyes were an extremely pale blue, almost to the point of being without a visible iris.  His eyes seemed to take in every part of the room as he stepped forward, making note of each student.   His hair was dark blonde and  hung close to  the collar of his suit.  It wouldn't be unfair to refer to it as a mane.  In contrast, his  beard and mustache were neatly trimmed.  At some point his nose had been broken and almost perfectly reset.



"Thank you, professor Sandusky,"  he said.  " It's an amazing feeling to be back here after so many years.  It brings back so many memories.  That was my desk, right there."  He pointed to the middle of the front row.  "I think if you check, my initials may still be carved into it."  He shot a quick guilty look at the headmistress, then turned back to the class, his cheeks growing slightly redder.

"We all know why you're here.  Each of you wants to learn how to turn yourself into an animal.  It is an amazing ability to have."  His enthusiasm for the subject was clear in the way he spoke.  " I should warm you, not everyone gets to choose the form they want.  Sometimes, the form chooses you.  The magic finds something deep inside you.  The magic looks at your soul and your form reflects that.  When it looked it me, it found courage and English pride, so when I changed form for the first time, I was pleased, proud and honoured to discover that my animagus form was that of a royal English lion."

His form suddenly flowed like so much water, expanding, changing.  In the space of a heartbeat, the young man standing in front of them was no more, replaced by five hundred pounds of lion, who quite calmly and rather comically, climbed into a chair near the wall and sat down.



 

Sasha was probably among the least likely to complain about a class on a Saturday.  Especially since it did come with a trio of post-lunch free study periods.  (Since, in the standard week, Sasha typically only had one free study period, this was an unexpected but highly appreciated surprise).  He doubted highly, though, that any of his peers were sitting around chuckling and jeering at Sasha attending a Saturday class.  Most probably didn't give it a second thought; a few rolled eyes and muttered 'figures' would have been the extent of any reaction. 

He offered Professors McGonagall and Sandusky a nod before taking a seat before casting an awkward, tentative grin in the visitor's direction.  He wasn't exactly a fan of the WCU and, between his accusation of Fauna Blake and other anti-werewolf comments, he wasn't sure the department was a fan of his, either.  But, so far, anonymity was his friend and he stayed quiet. 

The Ravenclaw had opted to attend partly out of curiosity.  There was a whole long list of questions gathered in the back of his head about the ability and he was eager to find out if this seminar might offer some answers to at least a few of them.  He'd also signed up for the seminar out of a certain degree of obligation.  Quite clearly, the cancelled classes during the week had been an exchange.  A trade.  Class time shifted from one day to the next.  Even though Sasha knew, logically, this hadn't been the professor's intention, not attending both the classes during the week and the seminar felt a little too close to skipping class. 

Lowest on the list of reasons for settling into one of the seats in the class was becoming an animagus himself.  As fascinating as the ability was, Sasha possessed little desire to learn it.  He loved animals.  But, he didn't necessarily want to be an animal.  He liked regular showers and keeping his hair trim.  He liked being able to wash his hands before meals.  Or studying.  Or reading.  Or sleeping.  Sasha certainly kept his horses and dog as clean as he could but they still didn't shower daily.  And, it wasn't like his human form could bathe the animal form so ... he didn't want to be the winged mini-horse version of Professor Trishna having to beg someone on a daily basis to keep the alternate form clean enough.  He also liked being a vegetarian.  He didn't want to experience uncontrollable, odd dietary urges. 

Not to mention, with his luck, Sasha was convinced his animagus form would be something gross or stupid.  With the way his luck went, he was certain he'd be like Gregor Samsa in Kafka's Metamorphosis.  He'd turn into a giant, intrusive cockroach and would never be able to turn back, eventually dying of loneliness and starvation locked in some room.  Or, even worse, a hagfish that spewed slime uncontrollably.  Or, he'd turn into a mosquito and end up flattened against someone's forehead. 

So, no.  He was not there to learn to be an animagus.  But, he was there to learn what he could about how the magic worked.  He was content letting someone else be the guinea pig, literally and figuratively.  He'd take notes. 

Animagus. The word alone brought several different things to mind, all of them rather fascinating. Learning about that kind of magic for once in a seminar, it was something Gabriel couldn't miss. Even if he didn't take Transfiguration as a main class anymore and even if he was normally still asleep at this point on a Saturday. In fact, today, he was actually a bit early for the seminar, picking a seat somewhere in the middle and drumming his fingers on it as he waited.

When Professor McGonagall walked into the room Gabriel, for some reason, found himself sitting up just a little bit straighter instead of slouching as comfortably as possible in the desk. He didn't recognize the man that followed her in, however and nodded a little after Professor Sandusky explained. Realizing that during the guests speech he ended up pointing at the desk he was sitting at. Naturally he couldn't help but look and sure enough, initials were carved into the desk. Smirking faintly he looked up at again in time to see Michael Styx turn into a gigantic beautiful lion.

Sitting back again, momentarily forgetting McGonagall was in the room he knew the class would be informative as well as interesting. It was definitely not a waste of extra sleep time to be here.

Long before she had made herself comfortable in the back row, the girl’s expression had already smoothed itself into one of complete and utter apathy. It cracked only when the Transfiguration professor had opened his mouth, but barely; after everything that had happened, Gracie had finally resigned herself to the fact that the old man would never cease to amaze her.

Because, really—‘morphimagi’? ‘Becoming animals’? Really?

As the WCU field agent-turned-lion clambered onto a chair, she focused on the headmistress instead – took in the impeccable posture, the hawk-eyed gaze, the stern confidence only the frighteningly competent could exude – as if, just by looking, she’d find the key to the elder’s prowess. Minerva McGonagall was famous for a reason (alright, multiple reasons), but it was for a particular one alone that the girl even attended the seminar in the first place: the professor was one of the best (if not the best) in the field. She had decades of experience, which she had skillfully applied not just in theory but practically as well. With the woman present as a guest lecturer, an opportunity had virtually rolled over and bared its throat. Who was Gracie to pass that up?

And so the Slytherin sat there, waiting for the headmistress to speak – to actually learn something, for a change – and picking at her claws nails as she did. Idly, she glanced around…

And met the eyes of one Theo Whitman, whose arm was draped along the back of another's chair. At the lazy smile he offered her, Gracie sneered.

What resulted in a week of cancelled NEWT Transfiguration classes for older students resulted in Naomi's study break being constantly invaded by the Salem Senior, Tracy Jones. And, despite how the older boy would pick her up and drag her off to work on some random Herbology or Creatures assignment like some adorably protesting baby sister, Naomi didn't blame him. She gave the overly jolly boy enough bruises for toting her around all the time. No, she blamed his professor.

So she decided to attend the seminar.

The witch put her metamorph skills to use and expertly morphed herself into Tracy Jones[1], something that wasn't difficult when he spent so much stupid time around her--it was as simple as pretending to be Abigail Reid (with a little practice); Then she transfigured some sheets into casual clothes he'd wear and then managed to pull off his generally jovial demeanor, which wasn't difficult when one of the guest lecturers for the seminar was the Minerva McGonagall.

So while Tracy Jones was spending a day at the greenhouses doing whatever, 'Tracy Jones' quietly took 'his' seat next to Gracie Slant, who, after the seminar began, took a moment to shoot Naomi's least favorite Whitman a rather harsh look.

With a shake of his head the Salem senior nudged the Slytherin, "Aw c'mon Gracie. Don't bother with him," came Tracy's mumbling voice, "He's probably 'bout as blind as Sandusky at spotting a 'morphimagi'," and then, all too un-Tracy-like, an eyebrow arched up on his forehead and a smirk peered between his lips as his voice grew quieter, "whether they're halfway 'cross the room or..." then he shrugged his shoulders and his face suddenly lightened with helpless and happy confusion--as if he had no idea what he was talking about.

1.	Approved by Sly

Headmistress McGonagall had been reinstated for less than twenty-four hours and yet the castle was already abuzz with activity and rumor spreading. She had planned on being an anonymous body in the castle for the next couple of days, making the formal announcement of her return at dinner on Monday, but after an unexpected visit from various professors the night before and the secret workings of the Hogwarts rumor mill, the word was out. She would have gladly spent the weekend in her office, preparing for the onslaught of the upcoming week, there was certainly enough to get caught up on, but when Professor Sandusky invited her to attend a seminar on Animagus magic, Minerva’s interest was piqued.

Animagus magic was very advanced magic, a magic she wasn’t totally sure she approved of teaching even the basics to a room full of untested students. It was an extremely secretive art and truth be told, most weren’t talented enough to master the seriously rigorous process. In over half a decade of teaching, she had shared the inner workings of the skill to less than a handful of people (student and adult). There was a reason there was only a dozen or so names on the Ministry of Magic’s registry list, and perhaps half that of unregistered Animagi in all of Great Britain.

She arrived at the old classroom quite early and waved away the heavy weight of nostalgia that threatened to overcome her. She gave greeting to both the professor and the guest before finding a spot off to the side, out of the way. She also wasn’t sure that she approved of Leopold’s decision to allow the students to take an entire week off of classes, especially this close to midyear exams, though perhaps she was simply being too strict. She wasn’t the kind of witch to try and dictate another’s teaching methods.

Minerva gave a polite nod to the class at large when Professor Sandusky introduced her to the class, but otherwise made no indication to speak. She was, indeed, here to observe, and observe she shall.

Michael returned to his normal form.  "It's not as easy as it looks," he said.  "I spent most of a year, under the expert tutelage of not one but two very talented animagi.   There were eight other people in that class, none of which managed to gain the power to change shape."   He shrugged.  "I don't know what made me different.  Maybe it was the fact that I was comfortable enough in my skin to be able to allow myself to change."

He looked at the class.  Several people were whispering to each other.  Others looked mildly bored but there were a handful who were paying rapt attention, to the point that their quills were suspended over their parchments, the ink dripping unnoticed onto the notes they had stopped making.

"Now, I'm not a certified teacher but I was a tutor while I was here.   I'm not a experienced trainer but I can help you.  I have the ability to turn into a lion and I am willing to tell you what that is like."   He looked at both professors before continuing.  "It is possible to learn this form of magic without a tutor but it is very difficult and very illegal.  You can understand why.  All animagi have to register with the ministry of magic and they need to indicate what features of their animal form are distinctive enough to make them recognizable.  You can understand why.  Are you all still following me or have I lost anyone?  Feel free to ask questions.  It's going to get really boring if you're all just going to listen to me talk and I'll start feeling like a really bad stand-up comic if you all stay this quiet." 

There seemed little point to attending a seminar on an ability that she was already well on her way to mastering but Raine took no chances with ambitions; she wouldn't neglect the slight possibility of something genuinely useful being said here today.

The Gryffindor was sat back lazily in her seat, just behind the studious Schlawkward, a mess of curls hiding the unimpressed arch of her fiery eyebrows. Godric's beard, this was more elementary than the first book she'd ever picked up on the subject- even if the WCU gentleman did put on an interesting display.

As far as animagi forms went, Raine wasn't sure how convenient a Lion could be. Intimidating, yes. But one couldn't spy on others or slip away unnoticed without looking as if though the London Zoo had experienced a rather peculiar breakout. At least she could pass for a feral cat, in a pinch.

Just then, Styx returned to basic form and some of the murmuring in the crowd quietened down. Nobody ever wants to ask a question. The redhead raised her hand languidly.

"For the benefit of those who might not understand why, could you perhaps explain the reasoning behind having to register as an animagus? And what are the penalties for unregistered animagi?"

To anyone who already knew that Raine could transform, it sounded like a precarious question. To others... well, one could only hope that she sounded typically diligent.

"Animagi must register their form and any distinctive markings with the Improper Use of Magic Office,"   Leopold said. "That way their animal form is recognizable as being that witch or wizard.  Primarily this is done to ensure the animagus does not abuse their ability for criminal purposes.   Failing to register is foolish in the extreme.  Punishment for discovery is incarceration in Azkaban, the wizard's prison.  The duration of the sentence is determined by the nature of the criminal activity.  The worse the crimes, the longer the sentence, with a minimum in the range of two years or so.  It is very much not worth the risk."

"Mr Styx is quite correct in his statement that the animal you become is a reflection of your personality.  If someone was to attempt to gain the animagus ability for, shall we say, illicit purposes, it is very likely their animal shape would be one of the lower creatures.  Rat.  Weasel.  Cockroach.  Centipede.   Oh yes, it is quite possible to gain a loathsome shape, one you would never want to assume.  If you are  looking to learn to change your shape for your own underhanded purposes, rest assured that you will not be assuming one of the more noble forms.  There were seven new animagi registered in the twentieth century and perhaps that number again who were not registered.  fourteen in a hundred years.  Given those numbers, I would be very surprised to learn that there will be more than one in this room at present."

The headmistress’s eyebrows rose drastically at Professor Sandusky’s assessment, causing a scowl to plant itself firmly on her features. Minerva had never been one to hide her true emotions, her feelings always plastered on her face like a neon sign. She thought, for one quick second, of leaving her mouth shut, thought about letting Sandusky continue his seminar as he saw fit, but she simply couldn’t hold her tongue.

“Professor, perhaps we could expound a bit more on your statement?” She asked, not waiting for a response. The witch stood from her spot and moved graciously to the front of the room, feeling right at home in her natural environment. She passed Mister Styx a scathing look, still unsure of how he had managed to get his initials into a desk during her tenure.

“I think what Professor Sandusky is trying to say is that if caught doing a crime as an animagus, you would be prosecuted just the same as if you weren’t, registered or not. The Department for Magical Law Enforcement, within the Ministry of Magic, investigates crime, as you well know. When evidence points to animal involvement, a specialist is brought in, usually from the Department for the Restriction and Control of Magical Creatures. It’s usually not difficult to tell the difference between a simple animal attack and an attack by an animagus. Animagi keep their wits about them, they continue to be sophisticated beings, simply in another form.”

“That’s one of the main differences between an animagus and a person that’s been transfigured. A person that has been transfigured takes on the instinctual nature of the beast, remembering only scraps of knowledge and choppy memories of their forms. However, I digress, and I’m sure Mister Styx and Professor Sandusky can tell you more about that.” She paused, giving a quick look to the lecturers and allowing the students to catch up on their note taking.

“An Azkaban sentence is not necessarily in store for an unregistered animagus if caught. Most of the time, if caught whilst not in the midst of mischief, one can get off with a simple hefty fine and serious surveillance; however, it’s extremely rare, as animagi are very difficult to identify.” Minerva looked around the room, almost wondering if any present had managed the difficult process. She knew that had an opportunity for a seminar been available to her during school, she would have been there with a shiny new quill and a sharp wit.

“As for the nobility of an animagus form, I daresay I disagree most strongly with Professor Sandusky, though you must understand that even after thousands of years, animagus magic is still very much a mystery. I do agree that the form of one’s transformation is taken from deep within one’s soul, their personality; however, that should not mean that a criminal’s form would be insignificant. For instance, take an ant. By many standards, an ant is a smaller life form, an annoyance at best, though in reality, ants are extremely hard workers with incredible strength and exceptionally family oriented. Every creature is noble when looked at from a different perspective. On the other side of the coin, take Mister Styx’s form, a majestic lion, and think about the negative qualities there. A very vainglorious animal, very lazy with a strong reliance to women to take care of its needs. I do not believe that simply because you do detestable acts that your form will be small or unimportant.”

"Exemplary question, five points to Gryffindor," Minerva said with a small smile. She was pleased to know that Gryffindor students had changed very little over the years and were unafraid to make inquiries.

Minerva had said her peace, looked around the room and nodded to the two other adults in the room. Without another word, she carried herself to the side of the room, but remained standing, just in case.

---

+5 points to Raine Almsay for an exceptional question!

Michael chose not to be baited on the nature of the male lion.  He was surprised that the headmistress would so obvious undermine a statement made by one of her professors, especially when the man was quite correct.  Perhaps there was bad blood between the two;  he didn't know.

"There you have it,"  he said.  "The case of Sirius Black comes immediately to mind.  He was an unregistered animagus and he used that form to escape Azkaban, the only wizard ever to do so unassisted.  Now, when I was a student here, I did as much research as I could before I decided to make the attempt.  The problem is, books can only take you so far and the vast majority of the books you find on the subject are written about animagi but are not written by animagi.  It would be similar to reading a book on critiquing music and expecting it to also teach you how to write music.  It is possible but it is difficult.  In the end, it is entirely up to you to learn what is required to become an animagus."

He looked at the headmistress and nodded to her.  It could have been simple acknowledgement.  It might have been his way of owning his vandalism from a decade earlier.  "I am one of eight that received training from professor McGonagall, arguably the most accomplished animagus alive today.  I've already told you how many of us managed to make the change happen.  It won't matter if you are self taught or taught by the best teacher available.  In the end, it will be just you and the change.  This is one of those places where there is no way to cheat.  If you can't do it, you can't do it.  If you can, it is the most amazing feeling in the world."

"I would also like to point out that there are no recorded cases of a person taking the form of a magical creature,"  Leopold said.  "Which is of course a wonderful time to mention the essay portion of the class.  I will be expecting an essay written on an animagus from history.  I would like you to relate their animagus form to their personality, to illustrate the relationship between personality and shape."

She greeted the boy with a quick, affectionate grin - that soon gave way to hastily smothered laughter, surprise and delight overtaking all pretense of indifference. This was just… “Too right, Mister President,” she replied dryly, voice kept to a murmur as she fought to wipe the smile off her face. Leave it to an actual Metamorphmagus to know.

Perhaps it was for the better, that the good professor couldn’t read the minds of his critics—or knew what (rather than who) they really were. The Slytherin suspected that he wouldn’t appreciate the irony.

Once the lecturers fell silent, Gracie gave the professor a long look, expression curious as she glanced between him and the headmistress – then the agent – and then back at the professor again, before it finally cleared.

Well, sort of.

Raising her hand just high enough that it peeked above her head, “Build on what Headmistress McGonagall just said, you mean, Professor?” the Slytherin inquired. The look on her face comported itself into one of polite confusion; the woman had just explained. The assignment seemed rather at odds with what she had shared.

Without waiting for an answer, Gracie turned to the headmistress, a shrewd gleam entering her eyes. “Because experiences often play a large part in shaping personality, Headmistress, could we say that they might have a role in determining what kind of animal we may shift into as well? Admittedly indirectly?” And she didn’t mean species—not specifically, anyway.

Taking a moment to arrange her thoughts, the girl bit her lip thoughtfully, a frown turning green eyes into contemplative slits. “Like… if a person experienced more situations that required, say, resourcefulness, as opposed to…” Her gaze flickered briefly in the other lecturer’s direction, indecipherable in that split second. “Bravery, would it have a hand in influencing the person’s potential shape, d’you think? That if the person had to face a situation like that over and over again, until relying on similar traits are practically instinctual, their animal would be one known for said traits?”

It was, as far as most questions she asked, invested; if possible, Gracie avoided asking them at all, preferred to glean her answers through observation, so when she did, she wanted them to count (the intention behind them notwithstanding). But despite the circumstances under which the seminar was posed - and the persisting antipathy she held for her professor - the Slytherin found herself wanting to ask, probe, know. At least in this the lesser known Animagus had been right: most of the books written on the art had been about them, rather than by them—an unfortunate distinction.

And while the girl was proud of her form, she was curious as to how its particular shape had come about, too.

   

"I'll leave that for your professors to answer," Michael said as he took half a step back.  This looked like it had all the signs of turning into what was referred to in the vernacular as a 'pissing contest' between the headmistress and the transfigurations professor.  He could tell what side the class was on.  For some reason they seemed to have an issue with the old man.

The reason wasn't his concern.  He was here to provide an expert opinion, not settle political differences between the staff or intervene between the staff and students.