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He had done it. After what must have been two months with a bay leaf stuck on his tongue, a thunderstorm had finally came. It was raining horribly hard, and the sounds of thunder and lightning came cracking onto the ground, and it was wonderful.
He, Hermione, and Ron all had decided to become animagi. It seemed like a smart decision with the upcoming war, being able to hide as an animal. There was always the chance they would get something unsubtle, like a zebra or bear: but any chance was better than nothing.
Harry was quick to rush out of Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione trailing after him. They raced into the edge of the Forbidden Forest with vials of their potion in hand.
“On the count of three,” Hermione yelled, raising her voice over the storm. Ron and Harry nodded at her in affirmation.
“One, two, three!”
The contents of each potion flowed down their throat, goopy and weird. It made all of their faces screw up in disgust. They swallowed and waited for the next strike.
The next flash of lightning came with a boom, and they started changing.
Harry thought it was slightly painful, changing shape, growing smaller, but it wasn’t the worst thing, more like a slight sting.
Harry looked up after a moment, and in front of him was an otter and some sort of dog in front of him, both laying down and slowly rising.
Harry wanted to say something, but all that came out was a meow. A meow?
He looked down at himself. He knew he was close to the ground, but he didn’t think he would be so small. He was a cat. A fucking cat. A kitten to be precise.
He was a small fluffy black cat with large ears and bold green eyes, according to Hermione and Ron. When Hermione saw him, she immediately went up and started petting him in her otter form. Ron trotted over and tried to push him over.
Although he wanted to be angry about being something small and pathetic, he realized that this gave him an opportunity to sneak out of the dormitory at night and stay up past curfew.
As they all walked back, excited, Harry thought about what he would be able to do in his form.
The next night he decided to try. He walked out of the painting and then transformed back into a kitten. He started running through the halls, his small legs and body not getting super far, but he felt like he had so much energy that it didn’t matter.
It was fun to run, the wind blew through his fur and his claws slid across the floor in some areas making it like a slide. At one point he threw himself on tiled floor and he slid far, so far in fact that he missed Professor McGonagall patrolling in her cat form.
He heard an annoyed “meow” so he turned around in the hall. Mrs. McGonagall was sitting upright with her tail flicking in annoyance.
Surely she doesn’t know it’s me, Harry reasoned. Slowly turning to keep running down the hall, but then he heard another pair of paws coming to him. So he did what any noble Gryffindor would do, he ran.
He ran, and Professor McGonagall chased right back after him. And Harry kept running until he felt like he physically couldn’t. He looked behind him to see if he was still being chased, and much to his horror, he was.
Harry sped up, his legs moving faster and his heart beating louder—and ran right into a wall. He let out a surprised hiss, stumbling backwards and right into Mrs. McGonagall’s claws.
She shook her head disappointedly at him, and he tilted his ears down in apology—and shame—. She gently whacked him on the head with her paw before leaning over him and picking him up by his nape.
Harry cried in shock, and struggled to get free. Professor McGonagall held tight, it didn’t hurt, but it was humiliating.
She walked him all the way back to Gryffindor tower. The painting opened for her without her having to say anything, and she walked him all the way inside before dropping him in front of the stairs.
Harry detransformed, and looked dumbfounded at her. “How did you know?”
She shook her head detransforming. “Only you Mr. Potter. Only you.”