In the morning, having slept well, with a fresh look and a clear mind, Harry Potter got up and, driven by nature's call, hurried to the bathroom.
Then, with a clean towel and a set of clothes, he headed to the shower, noticing in passing that the first light of dawn was just beginning to shine outside the window. Estimating, he figured it was unlikely to be past five o'clock. Shrugging, he continued on his way to the shower without much concern about disturbing his classmates; only a cannon blast could wake them.
In the bathroom, directly across from the door, stood a full-length mirror. Harry unconsciously examined his naked body in it—not out of vanity, but rather to remind himself of who he was. Until this morning, his backside had been marked by a few long, thin scars from Uncle Vernon's "disciplinary" actions when Harry brought home his primary school certificate. His academic record showed a daunting 98%, in stark contrast to Dudley's meager 65%. For "lying and deceit," he had been punished. However, now those scars were gone; his skin was smooth and unblemished.
Curious about what else might have changed since Madame Pomfrey's potions, he began to inspect himself from his feet upward. The large scar on his ankle from Aunt Marge's dog, Ripper, was also missing. He couldn't find the scar from stitches a surgeon had placed at the Little Whinging Medical Department after he'd fallen while escaping Dudley's gang, who'd shaken the tree he'd climbed.
His inspection ended with his face—the famous scar was still there, dark, slightly inflamed but painless.
Returning to his bed, Harry glanced at his peacefully sleeping classmates. Ordinary kids, dreaming their innocent dreams. Passing by Ron's bed, from which, surprisingly, little noise emanated, he was suddenly drawn to movement. The wriggling under the blanket stopped, and Ron's pet rat, Scabbers, poked its ugly face out. Its tiny eyes darted, and its long whiskers quivered comically as it cautiously scanned its surroundings, ready to flee and hide at any moment.
Harry had often noticed this strange, almost human-like behavior from Scabbers, but this morning he pondered it more seriously. This rodent's actions seemed unusually intelligent—it observed the room with a focus that was out of place for a simple pet. But his study of Scabbers was interrupted by a hazy vision. A sudden click in his head brought forth a long-forgotten memory. The entire dormitory glowed with an unfamiliar but strangely captivating light.
Everything began to turn gray until the walls, beds, chairs, and floor took on the look of an old black-and-white film. The air appeared to shimmer with a bluish haze made up of countless invisible specks, which seemed to come alive, vibrating and dancing around objects, striving to pass through them.
But the most striking transformation was with the sleeping boys and Scabbers.
A rainbow-like aura surrounded each boy, as if light were refracting through a fountain on a sunny day, with each aura reflecting unique colors that shifted in time with their breathing. Neville's aura, however, abruptly stopped, forming a dull layer that pulsed like a balloon under increasing pressure. The colors within were darker and more intense than those of the other boys, with "fiery" tones prevailing.
No such barrier existed around Dean and Seamus; their aura extended much farther, gradually fading and vanishing. Soothing waves of blue and green colors moved like a beautiful kaleidoscope, suggesting a sense of inner harmony.
Harry began to recall fragments of books he'd read in his past life that shed some light on these auras.
Auras—that's what he was seeing! These were the auras of his classmates.
The difference between Neville's aura and the others troubled Harry. How could a plump, awkward friend have enemies capable of such a powerful spell, one that both constrained and suppressed a child's powers? Who would do this, and why, to this kind-hearted, harmless first-year?
Even stranger, however, was the situation with Weasley and his rat. Red spots were scattered within Ron's aura, which otherwise displayed a typical, shifting blue-violet. The red thread linked the sleeping boy to his beloved pet.
Scabbers' own aura, however, took the prize for complexity and mimicry. Looking directly at the small body, its colors were similar to those of the other people in the room—the same shades, the same shimmer and movement. Yet towards the edges, the aura abruptly changed, taking on a completely different color and type of glow.
Although the creature looked ragged, it didn't seem sick. What could be so unusual about it to produce such a dual aura?
Duality? The word struck a chord in Harry's mind, as if saying, "The answer is close."
What could make him so uneasy?
Harry pondered what could alter a living being's aura so that it possessed the properties of both an animal and a human?
Another silent click restored color to the world, filling it with vibrancy once again, though Harry had little regard for such beauty now. The answer to the mystery was simple—Animagia!
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