-Harry-

Harry stared morosely out the library window, watching the snow fall in the evening twilight. Since his lesson with Minerva on Thursday he'd been out of sorts, and Snape's letter on Friday, obviously written before he'd joined them in Minerva's office after Harry had transformed, put him further afield. He'd hidden himself in the library soon after lunch and had found an out-of-the-way alcove beyond the Restricted Section to peruse the books Hermione had found for him. Not books about Horcruxes—now that he knew what they were, he wanted to forget them, not learn more about them. No, these books were about Animagi, and about animals in general and what they symbolized.

No matter how right it had felt when he finally transformed, no matter the feeling of peace inside the alert watchfulness, he simply could not get his head around the fact that he had transformed not into a stag like his dad, but into a doe. A doe. The female counterpart of the stag. He had been so sure that he would be another Prongs, regal, majestic, with a set of proud antlers.

How could a deer—a doe!—be useful? He supposed it would be a handy Animagus form if he planned to spend a lot of time in the forest, but that wasn't likely to happen in his lifetime. He sure didn't have any plans to go camping or hiking in the woods.

Minerva had assured him that while not common, it certainly was not unheard of that a wizard or witch switch genders in the Animagus transformation. Merlin himself, she claimed, was reputed to have had half a dozen Animagus forms, one of which was a mare. Ha! As if being compared to Merlin made him feel normal. She also told him of a student she had taken on many years ago, a rather plain-looking and mousy young witch of extraordinary abilities who had transformed into a peacock. A peacock, she noted with definite emphasis on the "cock." Not a peahen.

Then there was Severus. Harry had already transformed back by the time Severus stepped out of the floo, reluctantly retaking his human form after his first full look at himself with the barely faded spots of a fawn, the long ears and tail, the round, all-seeing eyes. He'd given it another go while Severus watched and through his gentle, watchful does eyes, had seen Severus break down.

So he was channeling his mother. That's what Severus said. Her gentleness, her watchfulness. Her protection of her child.

But Harry didn't think so. He thought, perhaps, that he was channeling Severus. His love for something he could not have, that had been taken away before its time. The gentling of his troubled soul when the watchful spirit of Lily—his love, Harry's mother—breathed by.

/

12 January, 1997

Sunday

Dear Severus:

Happy belated birthday. Just so you know, it's perfectly OK to give someone a belated birthday present and since I don't have any Beatles t-shirts in my trunk (well, not any clean, unused ones anyway), I'll have to think of something else. Why don't we go out together to the Hog's Head some night and indulge a bit? I mean, I may as well go along since I'll probably get more or less drunk from our connection even if I don't go. I think I could use the calories—and it would sure get my mind off everything else that's going on.

You can probably imagine that I'm confused, trying to figure out what it means to have a doe as my Animagus form. I was sure I'd be a stag like my father. I admit I'm glad I'm not, but I'm not sure I'm comfortable being a female animal. No, that doesn't make sense. When I was the doe, my mind was so sharp and so undistracted. And my hearing! I had no idea there were so many sounds in a room, almost as if the castle itself was alive. And seeing out those eyes is like looking in all directions at once and seeing life as a panorama. It's hard for my brain to process it all. So yeah, I'm more than comfortable when I'm in the form but I'm not comfortable thinking about it now.

And how is this particular form going to help me? I imagined curling up on a sofa and sleeping in front of a fire, not lying about in the forest and worrying about hunters. I know there's a reason for this but I need time to understand it. Hermione is trying to help—she gave me about a half dozen books to read. That's Hermione for you—when in doubt, throw a book at it. I didn't tell anyone else, not even Ron. Not yet anyway. Even I can see the advantage of being an unregistered Animagus and no one knowing what I am.

Thanks for answering my question, by the way. When I was little, I used to imagine my mum. I knew she was Aunt Petunia's sister and it was hard to imagine her looking like she really looks and not like some sort of grotesque caricature of my aunt. And that's stupid, because she was my mum and all, but all I ever knew about her is that she was a drunk like my dad, and they were killed in a car crash. But still, even then, I didn't really believe that. I thought of my mum as my Kindy teacher, Miss Marilyn and my dad (don't laugh) as our school janitor, Mr. Greene. OK, I said not to laugh! He was a really nice guy and he had the best broom. He'd let a kid stand on each side of it and would just go on sweeping like he didn't even notice you were on it…well, unless you were Dudley, of course. In my cot at night, I'd close my eyes and think of this little pretend family—Miss Marilyn, Mr. Greene and me—living in a house that was more like Mrs. Figg's than the house on Privet Drive, and I'd always get to be the kid that got to ride around on the big broom and hit the erasers against the wall to get the chalk off of them.

Was my mum's patronus a doe before she got together with my dad? I guess it's kind of a chicken and egg sort of question—did he become a stag because she was a doe? Did she have a doe patronus to match his stag Animagus form? Or did they have nothing to do with each other at all—some kind of cosmic coincidence? And was your patronus always a doe? I somehow think it wasn't.

Sitting here thinking about all of this now, I have this really odd feeling inside. I feel all closed in and confined in here. I want to be outside running, clearing my mind, not thinking of anything but the earth under my feet and the wind in my face. But I promised Minerva I wouldn't change without her there to pull me back if I get too wrapped up in my animal mind. She says that with the way I occlude, she's worried I'll hyper focus on my new form and forget that I'm human. If that happened, would I be excused from my homework assignments? Because this essay you set for us on dueling protocol is really really boring. Please! Differing angles of bows depending on the status of the person you're dueling? So if I'm dueling Hermione I just bob my head but if I'm dueling the Minister of Magic I more or less touch my forehead to the ground? And how do you determine status? Pure-bloodedness? Money? Position? Age? Brains? Oh…I guess I really should save all these thoughts for my essay and not waste them in this letter.

So, I could sit here and do my homework, or sit here and long to change into my Animagus form while at the same time freaking out because my Animagus form is a girl, or sit here and think about what you told me about Horcruxes. How could anyone ever do that? Just thinking about it makes me cringe. I think…I think that's why Voldemort's eyes are like that… They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, you know. So when the soul is damaged…or half-gone…what do the eyes show?

Damn…I just want him to be dead and gone. I want to get on with my life and feel like I have a life to go on with. But now I have to worry about some other piece of him hidden somewhere—could be anywhere—and you can be damn sure that if it's so important to him that he's not left it sitting out on the parlor table for me to find. "Oh here, Harry, take this pocket watch. I may ask for it back someday so keep it safe for me…"

Well, I'd better answer your question. I don't know where you come up with this kind of stuff, but it did make me think (of things like—I'm a wizard! I could just apparate right off that island!) So, five things to take with me to a deserted island… My wand, of course—it would get me out of a lot of scrapes, help me lift things and do simple healing charms. It can be my flashlight, my matches and my weapon and let me transfigure leaves into clean socks. My broom. I suppose I could use it to fly to the mainland and forget about the whole island problem! OK, OK. I would take my broom, though, no matter what. It would keep me from going mad, and I could use it to fly to the tops of the coconut trees to pick the fruit! Hedwig—to send letters to my friends. I'd hate to lose touch with them while I'm marooned. Shoot, Hermione and Ron might make up and I'd never know about it, though I expect I'd feel the earth shake even out in the middle of the ocean. A self-inking quill and an endless supply of parchment would round it all out. Yeah, I know. I'm predictable and not really interesting, right?

Let me guess what you'd take.

A cauldron.

Your wand.

A change of underwear (I'm planning to use my wand and a Scourgify)

Something to read: Most Potente Potions? The Complete Sherlock Holmes? Some sleezy romance novel with a picture of Gilderoy Lockhart on the front with his robes torn off his shoulder? (I'm not suggesting you are attracted to Lockhart—those are the kind of pictures Aunt Petunia's books always had. Thinking back on it, I remember one novel in particular…are you sure you've never posed for the cover of a romance novel?)

A hula hoop

And here's a question for you. If you could choose your Animagus form, what form would you choose?

Regards,

Harry

/

It was completely dark by the time he wandered back up to the Gryffindor common room. He'd managed to finish all of his homework in the library so he had time to relax before bedtime. Ron was sitting on the couch by the fire, alone for a change. Hermione and Ginny were studying at a table, books strewn about. Neither Lavender nor Dean were anywhere in sight.

"-Game of chess, Harry?" asked Ron as Harry approached and flopped down on a chair across from him.

"What does the loser have to do?" asked Harry.

Ron grinned, then glanced around the common room. He lowered his voice.

"Loser has to wear the necklace for a day."

"No way!" said Harry. "You know I never win. I'd rather hula hoop naked in front of the Quidditch fan club than wear that thing."

The grin on Ron's face broadened.

"Kidding, just kidding," said Harry quickly. Ginny and Hermione were both staring at him with interest. "How about loser asks Snape in class tomorrow if he's using a new shampoo?"

"You're suicidal," muttered Ginny, turning back to her homework.

Harry grinned. He rather hoped it would earn him a detention.

-Severus-

Harry had been sent back to his dorm, with instructions from Minerva to keep his success, and his form, very close to himself for the time being. Severus was of the opinion that there was a definite tactical advantage for Harry not to register his form yet, and while Minerva agreed on the tactical advantage, she had taken on a student in an official capacity and was having trouble with her conscience. Harry could tell Ron and Hermione, if he chose. Harry had left the room with an unexpected hug from Severus, obviously intensely happy yet incredibly confused.

As the door closed behind him, Minerva opened the cabinet behind her desk and extracted a bottle of scotch and two sparkling glasses. She poured both a little higher than normal for a social drink and handed one to Severus, keeping the second for herself as she sunk onto the couch and leaned back. Severus settled beside her.

"You knew?" he said, staring forward at the tapestry on the wall next to the door that painted a fantastical view of life under the Hogwarts lake (merpeople did not braid their hair nor did they chase their prey with axes that looked like those in depictions of cave people).

"I suspected," she said, after pausing to swallow a mouthful of the bracing drink. "I also suspected he might have a difficult time accepting it." She sighed. "I held him off as long as possible. He could have managed the transformation two months ago."

"Two months ago!" He shot her an astonished look.

She nodded. "I thought it would be best to get through Christmas first."

"That bit about Merlin, and your former student…" Severus let his voice trail off.

"Both true."

"Ahh. Good. Miss Granger will be checking, you know."

They both smiled. Severus let his shoulders ease back into the cushions of the sensible sofa.

"I did not expect this, anyway. To see him like that…"

"The Animagus form often reflects what is needed, Severus. At first, I suspected he would be a fawn in need of care. Perhaps he could have accepted that one more readily, when the gender would have been less obvious. The doe form recognizes him as an adult, but an adult tied to a family unit." She sighed, then caught Severus' eye, her voice serious. "This is difficult to describe, Severus. Let's just say that Harry is much more tied to you than you might realize. He may be my ward, but he does not regard me as his mother. You, on the other hand…"

"I am not his mother," he growled softly.

Minerva elbowed him in the ribs.

"Git," she said fondly.

/

15 January, 1997

Wednesday

Dear Harry:

New shampoo? Made with jasmine and clover? What has gotten into you, Harry? I thought the Slytherins were going to wet their pants! Could you have picked a day when I had actually washed my hair to comment on it? And why did you look disappointed when I took 50 points from Gryffindor? I am not sure what has prompted this suicidal behavior, but please return to your usual sulky yet quiet self in class of I will have to order you to the hospital wing for a checkup (or perhaps take you back to St. Mungo's—perhaps they restored too many nerves this summer. You have been quite nervy of late.) Surely there is enough to fill your head even during the winter doldrums without you having to resort to asking your professors personal questions.

Speaking of personal questions—you are correct. My patronus was not always a doe. When I first cast it, during my sixth year (don't gloat, I know you managed it much earlier), it took the form of a greyhound. I thought it quite impressive at the time, and it was certainly the fastest one in our class.

As for the Hog's Head—if I did planning on contributing to the delinquency of a Hogwarts student, would I plan a trip to the closest town? I think not. Fortunately, am not planning on contributing to your delinquency nor am I planning any more drunken fetes until you are of age. In fact, we may wait until you are of legal drinking age in the States (21, I believe).

I was looking forward to your last letter as I knew you would have had time to reflect upon your Animagus form. You certainly reacted as I expected you would. Minerva is correct, Harry. Merlin is reputed to have had at least one female Animagus form. My advice to you is to try not to get caught up in the issue of gender. Having a female Animagus form does not say anything about your human self, mean that you are effeminate or imply anything about your sexuality. A doe, in most ways, is essentially the same as a stag. Yet she is always alert and watchful, slipping along at the edge of the shadows at times, nearly invisible. She is gentle, not aggressive by nature, though she will protect her young fiercely as will nearly every mammal mother. The doe is solidly linked with family as well. Consider it.

I cannot answer your question about whose form was first. We did not learn the Patronus charm at Hogwarts until we were in our sixth year, and by then your father apparently had already managed his transformation. Your mother and father began dating this year, so I suppose it is all connected.

Perhaps it is best that I be frank and tell you how I interpret your Animagus form. Minerva was very clear that the form can be affected by many factors. For some, the form reflects a salient characteristic. For others, the form is based on an emotional need, or a connection to a person or a thing. While I must admit that I, too, can see the attraction of spending hours asleep on a warm corner of a sofa, the life of a cat is not for all. You need time to explore your form, to run with other deer, to skirt the edge of the forest, to roll in the grass and stand watchful and silent behind the trees. I am glad you have a form that will make you feel at home outside, in the forest.

I will be honest with you, Harry. I believe the form in some way completes you, perhaps signifying something missing, or something you need. You have an obvious manifestation of your father in your appearance and in your Patronus. Perhaps this, in a way, is the manifestation of your mother's spirit in your life, a way for her to continue to offer a watchful eye on the son from whom she is separated.

Give it time, Harry. Each time you transform you will understand more.

Ahh—now to your question. I have always thought that my Animagus form would be some dark, shadowy creature, perhaps a bat to hang on my dungeon walls. But given a choice (and I know that I would not actually have a choice in the matter, but you did ask…) I would be a common bird, perhaps a starling or a sparrow, something that could get lost in a vast flock, but that would not be looked at twice when hanging about by itself. It would be an excellent form for a spy, don't you think?

And yes, I admit my question about the island is a bit inane when it comes to wizards and witches who could, in most cases, readily remove themselves from said island by way of magical transportation of some sort (though I doubt that the Knight Bus would make a stop there). The question itself was meant to look at your priorities more than anything else. From your answers, it is obvious that you would want to assure that your ability to perform magic stayed with you, so your first choice was your most important tool, your wand. You chose your broom next, and your broom likely symbolizes escape and freedom, perhaps a type of unadulterated joy. An apt choice, and an appropriate one. Your next three choices—Hedwig, quill and parchment—reflect your desire to keep your friends near even while you are alone. I suppose I could point out that parchment is an unnecessary choice as you could readily transfigure a leaf into a sheet of parchment using your wand, but still, these three things would keep you connected.

Your choices for me are quite interesting as well. My wand, definitely. I suppose I would need a cauldron, or a vessel of some sort, as I am likely to find all sorts of interesting ingredients in this remote paradise. Of course, I having a wand, I could transfigure something. I would probably give up the cauldron (and the change of underwear) for two more books, though I would probably push Lockhart aside (and out the window and perhaps into the compost heap) in favor of a lengthy work of fantasy or science fiction, something from one of the better Latin American writers (in translation of course) and the Oxford English Dictionary. The hula hoop can go as well—wand, remember? Of course, with no one here to watch me, I will become quite the expert. While I would be able to transfigure all the underwear I needed from leaves, old plastic bags that wash ashore and animal pelts, I doubt I'd even bother. Would you continue to wear robes and pants on a deserted island?

As that line of questioning was really quite entertaining, let's have another go at it.

Same desert island. Which of these people would you pick to accompany you? Draco Malfoy, Sybil Trelawney or Gilderoy Lockhart? Choose well…and do not delay your return letter indefinitely as you contemplate your choice.

Harry, I am working on a way to take you out somewhere to experience your new form in its natural setting. Be content for the time being with your time with Minerva while I find a time and a place that is as safe as I can make it.

Regards,

Severus

/

Severus replaced the lid on his ink and cleaned the tip of his quill. He blew on the parchment he had just finished distractedly then rolled it and scooted it over to the pile of sixth year homework. Albus, when informed of Harry's transformation, had taken a long moment to react, obviously mulling over the turn of events in his head before a look of understanding settled on his countenance. He looked long at Severus, searching his face, behind his eyes, behind his mask.

"This is not just about Lily," he said. "It is about you as well. You will not be able to truly help Harry with this until you accept that his form has as much to do with you as it does with his mother."

Severus had given Albus a very Snapish glare. "Ridiculous," he replied. "What is there of a gentle forest creature in me?"

Albus had met his gaze and they stared at each other for a very long moment.

"Take him to the forest, Severus. I think you will both find some answers there."