Metamorphmagus
“My condolences, Luna.”
“Thank you, Harry. Daddy would rather that you congratulate him, though. He’s with Mummy now, after all.”
“But what about you?”
“My time will come, but for now I’m happy for him and Mummy.”
“Oh.”
“You’re a sweet blue angel, Harry. Don’t let the wrakspurts and nargles influence you.”
“Oh. Umm. Okay. Umm. What’s your plan after this, if I might ask? Maybe I could help? Or Nev? Or somebody?”
I get a warm if brief hug for that, and a beatific smile from Luna, in front of the freshly made grave of her father beside her house.
“I am going to go with you and Neville someday, but not now. Go reconnect with Blaise Zabini, for now, Harry.”
“Erh. Zabini? What for? I mean, why? And I didn’t know Zabini at all while in Hogwarts, you know, so I can’t be reconnecting with him.”
She pokes at my chest with a forefinger. “You were both in Hogwarts, you were both enrolled in nineteen-ninety-one, and you were both missing from your last year. Those are three connections already, Harry,” she lectures. “And Blaise is a ‘they’, just like you.” Then, maybe seeing my confounded look, she adds, “Go search and experiment, Harry. The quizziglies will convince you not to trust me, otherwise. If Auror Tonks kept accounts of her metamorph, you could derive tricks on how to return to your true self through the ways she took.”
“But I’m not–.”
“Go search, Harry, and don’t forget to try.”
“Fine. Fine. I’ve got nothing to reconnect with Zabini, though. I can’t just tell him – all right, them! Stop tickling me! – that Luna Lovegood sent me.”
“Why not? They knew me while we were in Hogwarts, after all.”
“Oh.”
Getting a dedpan, are-you-mad look from Luna, of all people, is somehow pretty embarrassing.
And then I feel ashamed of myself, on realising that the look is usually aimed towards Luna, from various people, including me.
Well, now, let’s just hope that I won’t get such a look from Zabini, too, shall we?
If I got any spare time after my Auror training, NEWT studies, A-Level studies, Teddy-time and House-time, that is.
Grimmauld Place no. 12, 25th December 2000
“Hi, Andy. Umm. Before the others start arriving, I’d like to show you something.”
“Show me what?”
“Umm, I’ve been practising. Dora left her journal about metamorphmagi for Teddy, and I, umm, peeked in. Sorry. But Luna said I’m a metamorphmagus, kind of, so I wanted to try. So, umm, she – Dora, I mean – said a metamorphmagus should return to their base looks, occasionally, so they’re not so… high-strung. When sleeping is best, or when with your closest relatives or friends. So, umm, I did it, and I… wanted to show you.”
“Oh, Harry.”
Andy hugs me close, cuddling me, and I melt into it, willing my nerves to settle.
And then, witnessed only by her, Teddy and Kreacher, I will my magic to relax its hold on my body, from my hair to my nails, like I’ve been practising day and night since Luna told me more than a month ago.
It’s always a nice and freeing experience, when I manage to do it. Now, even more.
Especially because I don’t have any eye problem in this form, or scars, and the years of regimented intakes of healing and nutritive potions finally show a big difference.
I’m still slender, still fair-skinned, still green-eyed though more of a leafy green, still black-haired though not messy, and still somewhat like my usual self despite everything, just much more androgynous. But now I’m more than six feet tall, possessed of heightened senses, and double-sexed.
I don’t think I’m quite human anymore.
Well, since I firstly achieved this form, I’ve got the suspicion that the bloodlines that breed metamorphmagi aren’t quite human in the first place. But I’m showing it to my family, now, and I don’t know how they – especially Andy – are going to react. Especially if I tell Andy about my suspicion.
Well, she’s looking warmly at me right now, in any case, and she never rejected Dora Tonks-Lupin for being a metamorphmagus, so I’ll cherish it as long as I can.