The unused classroom on the third floor had transformed over the weeks following Astoria's revelation. No longer just a study space, it had become a sanctuary of sorts, where house affiliations faded into the background and genuine friendships flourished in their place. Chris noticed the change each time they gathered, the way Susan and Hannah no longer startled when Daphne laughed, how Hermione and Daphne now shared books without ceremony, passing them back and forth with casual ease. Most striking was Astoria, who had begun appearing regularly at their sessions, her eyes always brightening when they landed on Chris, as if he held the sun in his hands.
"And then Professor Flitwick actually clapped when I performed the Levitation Charm perfectly," Astoria was saying, perched on the chair beside Chris as she often did these days. "He said my wand movement was 'precisely controlled', which I practiced for ages after you showed me how."
"Your dedication is paying off," Chris replied, genuinely impressed with the first-year's progress. "The secret to charms is in the details."
Astoria beamed at his praise, her cheeks flushed with healthy colour, a marked improvement from the pallor she'd shown when her condition was first revealed. Though the potion wasn't yet ready, the mere promise of a cure seemed to have breathed new life into her.
Across the table, Daphne watched their interaction with an expression that would have shocked anyone who knew only her public persona. The notorious "Ice Queen of Slytherin" was smiling, her usual sharp edges softened in the warmth of their private gathering.
"Has anyone seen Daphne in the corridors?" Hannah whispered to Susan, though loudly enough for everyone to hear. "It's like watching two different people. Out there, she practically freezes first-years with a glance."
"Reputation management," Daphne replied without a hint of embarrassment. "Slytherin requires certain... performances." She adjusted her Ancient Runes text with precise movements. "It's exhausting, but necessary."
"The Slytherin common room must be a fascinating sociological experiment," Hermione mused, looking up from her Arithmancy calculations. "All those layers of pretence and positioning."
"You wouldn't last a day, Granger," Daphne said, though her tone held affectionate teasing rather than malice. "Your face reveals everything you're thinking."
"It's refreshing," Chris offered. "In a world of masks, honesty stands out."
Their easy banter continued as they worked through their respective assignments. The familiar rhythm of their study sessions had evolved to include these personal exchanges, weaving academic pursuit with genuine connection. Even when they concentrated in silence, the atmosphere remained comfortable, punctuated by occasional questions or offers of help.
Later, as they packed away their books during a break, Chris noticed Astoria hovering near his shoulder, clearly waiting for a moment to speak privately. The others had drifted toward the windows, discussing the first heavy snowfall that had blanketed the grounds overnight.
"How does the potion actually work?" Astoria asked quietly when he turned to her. "Will it hurt? Will I feel different afterward?"
Chris considered her questions carefully. "The potion works at the deepest level of magical essence," he explained, keeping his voice gentle but honest. "It identifies the curse within your magical core and severs its connection, then helps your magic rebuild the damaged areas."
"Like pruning a diseased branch from a tree," Astoria suggested, surprising him with her intuitive understanding.
"Exactly like that," Chris nodded. "As for how it feels, according to the family records, the first dose creates a warm but painful sensation throughout your body, like sunshine and then needles flowing through your veins. The second dose might cause some more discomfort as the curse is actively severed. The third dose feels cooling and refreshing as your magic rebuilds itself."
Astoria nodded, absorbing this information with remarkable composure for one so young. "And your family discovered this? Were they curse-breakers or healers?"
"Both, in a way," Chris replied. "The Emrys family has always believed that knowledge should serve a purpose beyond power for its own sake. Healing was considered one of the noblest applications of magic."
"I wish I could see your family's library," Astoria said wistfully. "Daphne says old families keep the most interesting magic in their private collections."
"Perhaps someday," Chris offered with a smile. "Though some of the books are quite temperamental. One snapped at my finger when I got too close to it."
Astoria giggled, the sound drawing Daphne's attention from across the room. The older Greengrass sister watched them for a moment, her expression softening further before she seemed to remember something and reached into her bag.
"Speaking of family," Daphne said, approaching them with an elegant envelope in hand, "I have something for you, Chris."
The others gathered around curiously as Daphne presented him with the envelope. It was made of heavy cream parchment, sealed with dark green wax bearing the Greengrass family crest, a stylised tree intertwined with a serpent.
"My parents request the pleasure of your company for Christmas dinner," Daphne explained, her formal tone suggesting she was quoting directly. "They wish to express their gratitude personally for your assistance with Astoria's condition."
Chris accepted the envelope with appropriate solemnity. "I'm honored by the invitation."
"Please say you'll come," Astoria added eagerly. "Mother's already planned the menu twice, and Father's bringing out his best wines from the cellar."
"Of course I'll come," Chris assured her, breaking the seal to reveal an exquisitely penned invitation. The calligraphy was flawless, the wording properly formal without being stuffy, exactly what he would expect from a family of the Greengrasses' standing. "I look forward to meeting your parents."
"They're quite desperate to meet you," Daphne admitted, a hint of her usual dryness returning. "Father nearly came to Hogwarts himself when I first wrote about the potion. Mother convinced him it would appear undignified."
Susan caught Chris's eye across the table, her expression warm with understanding. They had grown closer since their Hogsmeade outing and subsequent conversation, comfortable in their "friends with a future" arrangement.
"Will you still have time to visit Bones Manor?" she asked. "Aunt Amelia was hoping you might come for tea during the holiday."
"Absolutely," Chris nodded. "I've arranged my schedule to accommodate both visits."
When the bell chimed, signaling the end of their session, they gathered their materials with the familiar ease of people who had fallen into comfortable rhythm together. Daphne resumed her public mask as they approached the door, her features settling into cool composure, though she offered Chris a final genuine smile before stepping into the corridor.
"See you at dinner," Astoria said brightly, giving Chris's arm a quick squeeze before following her sister.
As the Greengrass sisters disappeared down the hallway, Hannah shook her head in wonder. "If someone had told me two months ago that we'd be friends with Daphne Greengrass and her sister, I'd have thought they'd been hit with a Confundus Charm."
"Sometimes," Chris replied, watching the retreating figures, "the most unexpected connections turn out to be the most valuable."
...
"Incendio," Hannah whispered, her wand movements precise as she directed the controlled flame toward the small metal cauldron. The fire bloomed perfectly, its heat carefully modulated to maintain the exact temperature required for their experimental potion. In the weeks since they'd begun exploring beyond the standard curriculum, their practical skills had improved dramatically. What had once been a simple study group had evolved into something closer to a research collective, each member pushing the boundaries of third-year magic with growing confidence.
"Perfect flame control, Hannah," Chris noted approvingly. "The Advanced Potioneer's Handbook says that's the most common error in complex brewing, inconsistent heat."
Susan measured crushed beetle wings with a jeweller's precision while Daphne consulted the modified recipe they'd developed by combining elements from their Potions textbook with techniques from an obscure tome Hermione had unearthed in the library. The potion, a more potent variant of the standard Pepper-Up, bubbled with promise, its colour shifting from copper to burnished gold as it should.
Hermione, however, wasn't watching the potion. She sat slightly apart, a thick leather-bound book open before her, her quill moving rapidly across a separate sheet of parchment filled with notes and diagrams. She'd been uncharacteristically distracted all session, her usual laser focus on the task at hand replaced by occasional glances at her private project.
"All right, Hermione," Daphne finally said, setting down her silver stirring rod. "You've been bursting to share something all afternoon. What is it?"
Hermione looked up, startled, then smiled sheepishly. "Is it that obvious?"
"You've checked that book seventeen times in the last hour," Hannah pointed out with a laugh. "And you keep smiling to yourself like you've discovered the secret to permanent Transfiguration."
"Well..." Hermione closed her book carefully and pushed it to the center of the table. "It's not permanent Transfiguration exactly, but it's close."
The others leaned forward to see the title embossed on the aged leather cover: "Advanced Human Transfiguration: From Theory to Practice."
"I've been researching something," Hermione continued, excitement building in her voice. "Something challenging and incredibly useful that would push our magical abilities further than anything we've attempted." She paused for dramatic effect. "The Animagus transformation."
A moment of stunned silence followed before everyone began speaking at once.
"Like Professor McGonagall?" Hannah gasped, eyes wide.
"That's N.E.W.T. level magic at minimum," Daphne said, impressed despite herself.
"My aunt says there are only seven registered Animagi in Britain," Susan added, leaning forward with interest.
Chris remained quiet, studying Hermione's notes from across the table. Her research was impressively thorough, pages of calculations, references to multiple advanced texts, and a meticulously drawn diagram of the human magical core during transformation.
"I know it's advanced," Hermione acknowledged, "but think about it, we're already working well beyond third-year level in most subjects. The Animagus transformation represents the pinnacle of human Transfiguration, a perfect synthesis of theory and practical application."
"It's also incredibly dangerous," Chris pointed out quietly. "Partial transformations can leave permanent damage. There's a reason so few wizards attempt it."
Rather than discouraging them, his caution seemed to heighten the group's interest. Daphne's eyes gleamed with the challenge.
"The danger is precisely what makes it worthwhile," she said. "Anyone can learn to turn a teacup into a rat. How many of our classmates could transform themselves into an animal at will?"
"The magical theory is fascinating," Hermione pressed on, flipping open her notes. "The transformation isn't just physical, it's a complete magical realignment that allows your consciousness to exist in an animal form while retaining human thought patterns."
Hannah looked uncertain. "But if it's so difficult and dangerous, how would we even begin? It's not like we can ask Professor McGonagall for private lessons."
"That's where I thought Chris might help," Hermione said, turning to him with hopeful eyes. "You mentioned your family library contains rare magical knowledge. I wondered if... perhaps..."
"If the Emrys collection might include information on the Animagus transformation," Chris finished for her, a small smile playing at his lips. "It's certainly possible."
The others watched him expectantly, the bubbling potion momentarily forgotten. Chris considered the request carefully. The Animagus transformation was indeed complex and dangerous, but also undeniably valuable. His own family grimoires contained detailed instructions far beyond the Ministry-approved methods, including shortcuts and safety measures lost to modern magical education.
"I could research it over the holidays," he offered finally. "The main library at the Manor has several sections dedicated to advanced Transfiguration. If there are safer methods or preparatory exercises, I'll find them."
The group's excitement was palpable. Even Susan, usually the most cautious among them, looked thrilled at the prospect.
"We'd need to be methodical," Chris continued, warming to the idea despite his initial reservations. "Start with the preliminary theory before moving on to anything practical. Done properly, with the right preparation, we could minimize the risks."
"And we'd register with the Ministry once we succeeded," Hermione added quickly. "I've already researched the legal requirements."
Daphne made a dismissive gesture. "Registration can wait until after we've mastered the transformation. The Ministry's paperwork would only slow us down."
"Think about what we could do," Hannah said dreamily. "Explore the Forbidden Forest, observe magical creatures in their natural habitats without disturbing them..."
"The practical applications are endless," Susan agreed. "My aunt says Animagi make exceptional Aurors. Their animal senses can detect things that magical detection spells might miss."
"What animals do you think we'd become?" Hannah asked, eyes bright with speculation. "I've always loved badgers, obviously, being Hufflepuff and all."
"It doesn't work that way," Hermione explained. "Your Animagus form reflects your inner personality and magical essence, not your preferences. You don't choose the animal, it chooses you."
"I bet you'd be something clever," Hannah told Hermione. "An owl or a fox."
"Daphne would be something elegant but dangerous," Susan suggested with a smile. "A snow leopard, perhaps."
"And you'd be something loyal and steadfast," Daphne replied, returning the smile. "A shepherd dog with watchful eyes."
They all turned to Chris, curious about his potential form. He merely shrugged, unwilling to speculate. In truth, he had wondered about his Animagus form before, given his unique circumstances. Would it reflect his current life, or carry elements of his past existence?
"The only way to know is to complete the transformation," he said. "And that begins with proper research and preparation."
"So we're really doing this?" Hannah asked, looking around at each of them. "Becoming Animagi?"
"If Chris finds a safe method in his family library," Hermione qualified, ever pragmatic despite her enthusiasm.
"I'm in," Daphne declared firmly.
"Me too," Susan nodded.
Chris considered his friends, their eager faces, their growing magical confidence, their trust in him to guide them safely through this ambitious project. It wasn't what he had planned for this year, but the challenge appealed to him on multiple levels.
"We'll begin after the holidays," he decided. "I'll bring back whatever information I find, and we'll start the preliminary work together."
The agreement sealed, they returned to their experimental potion with renewed energy, the prospect of becoming Animagi adding excitement to their already strong bond. As they worked, Chris mentally catalogued the sections of the Ambrosia library he would need to consult. The ancient grimoires contained Animagus techniques dating back to the time of Merlin himself, methods far safer and more efficient than the modern approach.
If they were truly committed to this path, he would ensure they walked it with every possible protection. The transformation would be challenging, certainly, but also immensely rewarding, another shared experience binding this unlikely group of friends together across house lines and beyond the walls of Hogwarts.
...
Chris folded his school robes with precise movements, each crease aligned perfectly before he placed them in his trunk. Unlike his housemates, who stuffed their belongings haphazardly into their luggage, he approached packing with the same methodical care he brought to potion-brewing or spell-casting. The Hufflepuff dormitory hummed with pre-holiday excitement, Justin and Ernie were engaged in an impromptu pillow duel, while others exchanged gifts or made last-minute plans for the break. Chris worked quietly in this cheerful chaos, his mind already reaching ahead to Ambrosia Manor and the delicate potion waiting for his inspection.
His selection of books for the holiday reflected his priorities: three volumes on blood maledictions tucked at the bottom of his trunk, covered by the Animagus research texts he'd promised to consult for the study group. While he genuinely intended to research the transformation process, the Malediction's Bane potion demanded his immediate attention once he arrived home. Theory could wait; Astoria's cure could not.
"Taking half the library home, Chris?" Ernie called, pausing his pillow assault on Justin to peer at the stack of books beside Chris's trunk.
"Just some light reading," Chris replied with a small smile, carefully wrapping his eagle-feather quill in protective cloth before tucking it into its case.
"Light reading?" Justin laughed, his hair disheveled from the pillow fight. "Those books look heavier than my entire trunk."
Chris merely shrugged, continuing his packing. The term had unfolded in ways he couldn't have predicted. What began as a carefully orchestrated plan to help Astoria had evolved into genuine friendships across house lines. The study group had transformed from a strategic tool into something he genuinely valued. Hermione's ambitious Animagus proposal was evidence of how far they'd come, five students from three houses, trusting each other enough to embark on complex, potentially dangerous magic together.
But beneath these pleasantly unexpected developments, his core mission remained unchanged. The Malediction's Bane was brewing at Ambrosia Manor, each stage overseen by Jilly according to his instructions. Though he trusted his house-elf implicitly, some aspects of the brewing required his personal attention, magical resonance adjustments that needed to be calibrated to Astoria's specific magical signature, which he had carefully collected the blood drops during their study sessions.
He mentally reviewed his holiday schedule as he folded his casual clothes. Three days to complete the critical phase of the potion, then Christmas Eve with Susan and her aunt for afternoon tea, followed by Christmas Day with his house-elves in the morning and dinner with the Greengrass family in the evening.
Chris sat on his bed for a moment, allowing himself a rare minute of quiet reflection. Meeting Astoria's parents represented both opportunity and challenge. They would undoubtedly have questions about the potion, his family's magical knowledge, perhaps even his own background. He would need to navigate their gratitude and curiosity with care, revealing enough to maintain trust without exposing too much of his unique circumstances.
He suspected that Gareth Greengrass, as head of an ancient pureblood family, would approach their meeting with a blend of gratitude and strategic assessment. A family like the Greengrasses would recognize the value of an alliance, especially one who possessed magical knowledge beyond what was commonly available. What had begun as a simple act of helping Astoria might evolve into something politically significant for both families.
"Last call for the carriages!" called the Hufflepuff prefect, poking his head into the dormitory. "Anyone not downstairs in five minutes gets left behind!"
The announcement broke Chris's reverie. He stood, donning his traveling cloak and casting a final glance around the dormitory to ensure he hadn't forgotten anything important. With a practiced wave of his hand, he levitated his trunk and guided it toward the door, joining the stream of excited students heading for the carriages that would take them to Hogsmeade Station.
The journey from castle to train passed in a blur of cheerful chaos. Students called holiday wishes to friends from other houses, exchanged last-minute gifts, and made promises to write. Chris secured a compartment with Susan, Hannah, and several other Hufflepuffs, settling by the window as the Hogwarts Express whistled its imminent departure.
As the train pulled away from the station, the castle growing smaller in the distance, Chris's mind shifted fully to the task awaiting him at Ambrosia Manor. The Malediction's Bane would now be in its critical second phase, where the powdered unicorn horn needed to be gradually incorporated into the base solution over precisely seventy-two hours. The timing had to be perfect, each addition synchronized with the potion's magical resonance to ensure proper integration.
"You're miles away," Susan observed quietly, seated beside him while the others chatted animatedly across the compartment. "Thinking about the potion?"
Chris nodded, appreciating her perceptiveness. "The next phase is delicate. There's little room for error."
Susan's expression softened with understanding. "If anyone can brew it correctly, it's you. Astoria is lucky to have found you."
"It wasn't luck," Chris replied, watching the Scottish countryside roll past the window. "Some things are meant to be."