The First Attempt
April 13, 1972
The Marauders had never been particularly patient.
Which was why waiting for the Animagus potion to be ready was torture.
Weeks had passed since they had officially decided to go through with it, and though they had made progress, they were nowhere near close enough. Every night, they would gather in their dormitory or a secluded corner of the castle, pouring over texts, adjusting their potion, and discussing the transformation process in depth.
But talking wasn’t enough anymore.
“We need to start practicing,” James said one evening, pacing the room with his hands on his hips. “The potion’s coming along fine, but we can’t just sit around waiting for it to be done before we actually try anything.”
Sirius, lounging in an armchair, tossed a cushion into the air and caught it absentmindedly. “What exactly do you suggest, oh wise one? Attempt to sprout a tail mid-class?”
James ignored him, turning instead to Remus, who sat cross-legged on his bed, flipping through their notes. “You’re the one who actually knows what this process feels like. What’s the first step?”
Remus sighed, rubbing his temples. He had not signed up to be their official werewolf consultant, and yet…
“The first step,” he began, “is visualization. You have to understand the form you’re trying to take. Not just picture it, but feel it. You have to convince your body that this shape is just as natural as the one you have now.”
Peter blinked. “So… if I imagine a dragon, will I turn into a dragon?”
Sirius barked a laugh. “You? A dragon? Wormtail, you’d be lucky to manage a field mouse.”
Peter scowled, but James cut in before an argument could break out. “Alright, so we visualize. Do we need to pick the animal first, or does it, like… come to us?”
Remus hesitated. “It’s different for everyone. Some wizards have an innate connection to their animal form, others don’t realize what it is until the transformation actually begins. But once you know, that’s it. You can’t change it.”
Sirius leaned forward, suddenly intrigued. “What do you reckon mine’ll be?”
James smirked. “Something obnoxious, obviously. Like a peacock.”
Sirius threw the cushion at him. “Oh, piss off.”
James dodged, grinning. “I bet I get something cool. A lion, maybe. Or a stag.”
Peter wrung his hands. “What if mine’s something rubbish?”
“It won’t be,” Remus assured him. “It’ll be something that suits you.”
Peter didn’t look entirely reassured, but James clapped him on the back. “Right. So let’s get to it, then. Visualization exercises. Everyone close your eyes.”
Sirius groaned but complied, slumping back in his chair. Peter shut his eyes tightly, looking like he was trying far too hard, and Remus watched as James took a deep breath, his brow furrowing in concentration.
A few moments passed.
Then—
“Nothing’s happening,” Sirius complained.
“That’s because it’s not immediate, you twat,” Remus muttered. “This takes time.”
Sirius huffed but fell silent, and the room remained still for several minutes.
Then, James muttered, “I think I can feel something…”
Everyone’s eyes snapped open.
“Really?” Peter asked eagerly. “What is it?”
James frowned, concentrating. “It’s… weird. Not bad, just… different. Like I know exactly where I’m supposed to be going, but I can’t quite get there.”
Remus nodded, impressed. “That’s a good sign. It means you’re close.”
Sirius scoffed. “Of course he gets it first. Bloody golden boy.”
James shot him a smug grin. “Jealous?”
“Not even slightly.”
Despite the teasing, an unmistakable excitement filled the room.
Because this was real now.
The first step had been taken, and there was no turning back.