Were she to draw it now, many employees would be stunned: she knew their building better than they did, accuracy at roughly eighty-five percent.
Only a handful of room sizes were slightly off.
Inside her mind stood a miniature Ministry.
The Animagus Registration Office had been the Ministry's easiest post for a century.
Only seven registered Animagi existed; others undoubtedly hid their talent and simply ignored the law.
With no newcomers, the clerk spent every shift in bored idleness.
The post had become something of a Ministry legend.
Today, however, its worker finally had a customer.
Lynn and McGonagall approached the counter; McGonagall cleared her throat.
"Ahem—good morning, Miss West."
"Morning," West mumbled, then snapped fully awake on seeing McGonagall.
Professor McGonagall! What brings you here? Is there a change in your Animagus registration?
No, said Professor McGonagall with a smile, gently ushering Lynn to the counter. I'm here to support my student while she registers.
Huh? West stared down at the tiny Lynn, her mind unable to process what Professor McGonagall had just said.
Hello, Sister West, Lynn greeted politely with a nod.
H-hello, hello...
West answered on autopilot, needing a full five seconds to reboot her brain.
Wait—registration! You mean—here? She shot an incredulous look at Professor McGonagall. You're telling me this child is here to register as an Animagus?!
Of course. Professor McGonagall beamed, ruffling Lynn's hair.
H-how old is she? What year?
West looked down again, utterly unable to guess Lynn's age.
An Animagus already, yet so small... it made no sense.
I'm a second-year in Ravenclaw House at Hogwarts.
Hearing the question, Lynn answered in detail.
A second-year... twelve years old.
West looked dazed as she pulled the registry from beneath the counter and wrote the year and today's date.
She gave her head a brisk shake to clear it.
This was the youngest Animagus on record, and it was happening on her watch.
A flutter of pride stirred in her chest. Your name?
Lynn.
Pretty Eastern name, she thought, nodding as she wrote it down.
Now, please show me your Animagus form.
All right. Lynn nodded. Before West could even expect a wand, the girl's appearance shifted in an instant.
She shot up past two metres, glossy black feathers cloaking her body, glinting crimson under the lights.
Fangs and talons—West sucked in a breath at the sight of the majestic, lethal creature.
A primal dread welled up inside her.
It told her that if this being wanted her dead, she'd never even reach for her wand.
Swallowing hard, West recalled the Muggle animal books she'd studied before taking this job—so she could identify any form that appeared.
The stack had included a volume on prehistoric life, and dinosaurs had featured prominently.
The girl had turned into one of them—Deinonychus, if she remembered right.
She quickly wrote the name before she could forget.
Better safe than sorry. She lifted the registry for Lynn to see.
Is this what you become?
Lynn lowered her head, peered at the word Deinonychus, and gave a big nod.
West exhaled and continued noting the traits.
Features: plumage glossy black, reflecting red under light.
Done.
She nodded; in the next heartbeat Lynn was human again.
Twelve... an Animagus... wandless transformation... I feel utterly useless.
West sighed and stamped the registry.
Beside her, Professor McGonagall spoke, half-teasing, half-serious.
I wouldn't say that, Miss West. We all have different gifts.
Yours, for instance—your Disillusionment Charm was superb.
To this day poor Mr Trennor never learned who salted his pumpkin juice every day for four years.
Pfft—cough! West flushed and spluttered.
It was mutual! He started it—put sugar on my steak.
She gritted her teeth; Merlin knew the trauma of biting into meat sweeter than Honeydukes candy.
And that wretch laughed his head off!
Still, they were the best of friends.
Registration complete, they bade West goodbye. Professor McGonagall whisked Lynn away before Ministry 'old foxes' could swarm the girl.
Back at Hogwarts, Lynn bowed slightly. Thank you, Professor McGonagall, for accompanying me to the Ministry.
Not at all, Miss Lynn. The Professor helped her up, wondering when the girl would stop being so formal.
I'll take my leave, then. Goodbye, Professor McGonagall.
Goodbye, Miss Lynn.
Halfway to the door, the Professor suddenly called after her.
Oh—Miss Granger's parents will arrive at Hogwarts in two days to spend Christmas. If you'd like to meet them, wait in the entrance corridor of Hogwarts Castle.
Lynn's step faltered; she turned and bowed again. Thank you for letting me know, Professor.
Only then did she leave, closing the door softly behind her.
As she walked toward Ravenclaw Tower, her mind, for once, held no thoughts of study.
Uncle and Aunt are coming—and they want to thank me. How can I face their gratitude?
I'm the one at fault.
She pushed the unanswerable question aside, summoned the holiday homework to mind, and made a simple decision.
When I see them, I'll apologise first—whatever happens.
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