The Fall Of The Dark Lord

The Fall of the Dark Lord

Chapter 6: Animagus

 

Harry gasped in pain as he tried to support himself on ruined arms. He felt a huge flow of blood running down his face from his temple where he had hit the wall. He saw Voldemort slithering toward him quickly through cracked glasses. He had to move despite the pain. He had to move now or he was going to die. He forced the pain far back into his mind until it was seemingly gone. He staggered to his feet. He tried again to counter attack, but he was simply too slow. Voldemort lunged forward again, narrowly missing Harry as he dodged the snapping jaws. The snake laughed evilly.

"You will never win this, boy."

Harry stumbled backward reaching for the clasps of his robes. The loose fabric was too much of a hazard—they had already caused him serious injuries. He undid the clasps letting the black fabric fall to the ground as he watched Voldemort towering over him.

Voldemort was right. He wasn’t going to win this. He was simply too slow. He needed to be something faster—something airborne.

Voldemort struck again, Harry rolling out of the way with only with a thread of margin between him and the snake’s fangs. He turned on Voldemort, extending his hand in a claw-like position. "Crucio!" Harry shouted, the light shooting out from the center of his palm, hitting Voldemort on the underbelly.

But it had no effect.

The snake hissed again, "My hide is too thick now, Potter. Spells won’t work on me, I’ve evolved out of that weakness."

Harry’s eyes widened. He turned and started to run to put distance between them, but he only made it a few feet before one of Voldemort’s coils had knocked him back.

"Not so fast, Potter. Do you not want to face death like a man?"

Harry glared up at the hooded head.

"Playtime is over."

He heard the screams all around him.

"My favorite part of the game: sudden death."

He couldn’t let it end this way. Too many people were depending on him.

"Now DIE!!!"

Voldemort lunged forward for the kill.

"NOOOOOOO!" Harry screamed, jumping backward into the air. Voldemort’s motion followed him, but suddenly he felt a tearing in his back. His scream started to change into a shrill screech. He did not fall back to the ground. No. He continued higher, the strange sensation in his back spreading throughout the rest of his body.

He opened his eyes to find Voldemort and was shocked to see that he was high above the Great Hall, high above Voldemort. Harry looked briefly down at himself. His hands had become hooked talons, his feet the back legs of a lion.

Of course! He had willed himself to transfigure. He didn’t understand how he had done it, but he had transfigured into a griffin! The need was there, and so the need took shape. Where Voldemort was the symbol of Slytherin, Harry had become the symbol of Gryffindor.

The playing field was even again.

And Harry would take full advantage of that.

He maneuvered in the air and made a sweeping turn around the hall, his eyes locked on Voldemort, who continued to watch, slithering so that his head was prepared to strike when Harry did.

Harry continued to circle the snake, his eyes locked on the Dark Mark which appeared on the cobra’s hood. He waited for any opening to strike. He made an abrupt change in direction and saw his opening. He dove extending his talons. Slipping past the poisonous fangs, he sank them deep into the snake’s back. It screamed in pain before turning on the griffin. Harry leapt away escaping the snapping jaws again, pieces of dry scaly skin clinging to the bloody talons.

He flew up to one of the support beams and landed on it, the stone threatening to give way under his weight. He was twice the size of a hippogriff, standing at least twelve feet high at the shoulder. The griffin stalked down the length of the beam, a strange crackling growl issuing from his throat as its piercing eyes studied the snake, which coiled about in agony. The lion’s tail flicked back and forth and the eagle’s strong talons griped the stone hard enough to make pieces crumble.

It leapt again, strait at the snake’s underbelly, the same shrill cry escaping its jaws.

Again the talons ripped into the albino flesh, but the move had been miscalculated. The snake’s body closed around the griffin, locking it into its grip long enough for it to sink its fangs into the griffin’s shoulder. The griffin shrieked in pain struggling to get loose as the cobra’s searing poison made its way through its system and the contracting coils threatened to both suffocate it and crush its bones. The griffin’s eyes flashed as it turned on the snake’s head and buried its beak deep into the snake’s left eye. The cobra recoiled, dropping the griffin, which fell to the ground. The snake swerved right and left as blood poured from its ruined socket. The griffin limped in the opposite direction, its talons scraping on the floor as it tried to use its injured foreleg.

In several seconds after both had recovered from the last conflict they both took another attack position; the cobra, its coils gathered behind it and its head low, swaying back and forth; the griffin, its body low to the ground, legs ready to spring at the slightest show of attack.

They moved together...

The snake struck…

The griffin sprang…

There was a fury of beating wings…

Both hit their mark…

The griffin had attacked the snake’s eyes…

And as its talons tore into the snake’s face, the snake's fangs sank deep into the griffin’s thigh…

The snake propelled the griffin into the stone floor. It quickly brought its coils about it so that neither the griffin nor the cobra’s head were visible any longer. The coils tightened and shook like mad for nearly a minute until it lay very still.

It was over…

The snake began to move again. Screaming filled the hall as its upper body began to emerge from the pile of coils…

Accept that the cobra’s head did not rise from the pile.

The griffin struggled out of the snake’s coils and tumbled onto the cold stone floor. It slowly picked itself up and limped away from the cobra barely able to keep its balance with the poison coursing through its system.

Suddenly the cobra reared up again, a terrible gurgling sound escaping its mouth as it tried to hiss—blood spurting down its white underbelly from where its throat had been completely torn away.

The griffin turned quickly to defend itself as the cobra attempted one last strike, but it lost its strength halfway and crashed to the floor gasping for breath as its blood seeped out onto the stone. The griffin stood on shaky legs watching the cobra with hazy vision as the cobra’s one good eye began to fade from red to a dull gray.

 

The onlookers watched the entire battle in both terror and awe. Finally, it seemed that Harry had won. Voldemort collapsed and did not get up again. The barrier that Voldemort created suddenly faded away.

The Death Eaters panicked. Their leader had been defeated before their very eyes, and without the promise of the Dark Lord’s protection the realization that they were hopelessly outnumbered finally registered in their brains. Deciding to risk their master’s possible wrath rather than their certain capture many apparated on the spot, abandoning their fallen leader.

As Voldemort’s spells faded away the crowd rushed away from the Great Hall, all accept the faculty, Ron and Hermione.

Harry was still in the form of a griffin, barely standing as he watched Voldemort revert back into his natural form, although what was taking place before him no longer seemed to register in his brain.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed, being held back by Ron.

Professor McGonagall was upon them in a flash, "When did Harry become animagus!?!"

"We don’t know!" Hermione answered frantically.

"He never told us! He would have if he’d succeeded at it." Ron continued.

McGonagall’s thin brows were contorted with worry, "It’s his first transformation…" she whispered under her breath…

"What’s wrong? What’s happening to him!?!" Hermione shouted at her.

"An animagus’s first transformation is dangerous. They can get trapped in the body…lose their mind to whatever animal they become…the larger the animal, the larger the risk…" McGonagall turned and rushed out to Harry, who was still struggling to stay on his feet.

She halted abruptly when the black griffin turned on her with a snarling screech, the hair and feathers on its back raising up. Its ears were flattened against its head, its wings raised threateningly, and if it had lips they would have been drawn back, teeth bared. She put her hands in the air, trying to calm it. It backed away slightly giving a weak warning screech.

"Perfect Minerva," she uttered to herself, "just go startling wounded animals that happen to be twenty times bigger that you." She took several hesitant steps toward the huge figure. "Harry," she called, "Harry, you’ve got to get control of yourself. You’ve got to change back so we can help you." She took another step forward.

The griffin screeched again, its beak ajar in warning, its luminescent green eyes flashing with malice. It tenderly scratched the floor with its injured legs trying to place its weight were there was no pain. It had been bitten at least four times and was losing strength rapidly.

"Harry," McGonagall said, "We’re your friends, please…you need help."

"Harry, please!" Hermione shouted from several yards away.

The griffin looked her way. When it saw Hermione and Ron some warmth seemed to enter its eyes. McGonagall came dangerously close.

"Harry…"

The griffin turned its head back to her and let out a weak cackle before falling to its side. McGonagall rushed to the beast’s neck, laying her hands on the bloody feathers. It raised its head again making the faint sound, the pupils of its eyes dilating. Its head fell back down.

 

Harry could feel himself coming back. For a while he had totally given into the overwhelming animal instinct that had made itself known as soon as he had transformed. He felt a strange tightening sensation all over his body. He closed his eyes as it overtook him. He heard people calling his name all around him. He briefly opened his eyes again. He saw a human hand before his eyes…his hand. He had changed back.

His vision was horribly blurred, even though he was still wearing the majority of his glasses. The pain he had suppressed suddenly rose back up in his body, the shooting pain from his arms…his legs…his chest…it was everywhere, but it was soon overshadowed by the stinging in his shoulder, his leg and several other places. It spread though his system vengefully.

Everything was getting fading around him…the voices quieting…until there was nothing but dark silence.