Based on Harry's judgment, Ragehorn's intelligence was roughly equivalent to that of a six- or seven-year-old human child, and this wasn't even her ceiling. As she grew older and experienced more, Ragehorn might well become the first dragon with wisdom nearly indistinguishable from a human's.
For now, though… Harry firmly rejected Ragehorn's request to be fitted with a suit of armor. It wasn't just the practical issues—dragonhide studded with iron armor gave Harry some serious psychological baggage. The image of Deathwing came to mind… Ragehorn was a beautiful young lady, and there was no way she'd be allowed to go down the path of some malevolent dragon.
It took some time, but Harry recounted the tale of Neltharion to Ragehorn. In his telling, the former Earth-Warder's draconic form was grotesque, terrifying, and utterly evil. The story worked, successfully quashing Ragehorn's armor obsession—though Harry did promise to hold a ritual later to make her even stronger.
Changing forms… it was much like how Harry himself would soon change forms. Every time he thought about his still-undetermined Animagus form, he found it endlessly fascinating.
Though Harry had explicitly warned against showing off their new armor in the castle (mostly directed at Ron), if they had to wear it all the time for safety, it was only a matter of time before others noticed. Sure enough, it didn't take long for word to spread among the students that Hermione and the others were wearing chainmail crafted from Basilisk hide.
Severus Snape, in particular, was an enigma. For years, the man had worn the same unchanging black robes, but now, out of nowhere, he ditched the cumbersome wizarding garb for practical short robes, topped with the same Basilisk armor. No student dared to question Snape about it, and with Sirius living outside the castle, the curious students could only pester Ron and the others, eagerly begging to touch the legendary Basilisk scales.
But all that was irrelevant to Harry. Alongside the Aurors sent by the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts underwent another sweep to uncover any dangerous secret rooms. Naturally, they found nothing. If Hogwarts' hidden chambers were that easy to locate, it wouldn't be Hogwarts.
In the end, the Ministry had to settle for renovating the entrance to the Slytherin Chamber of Secrets. No longer would anyone need to slide through that filthy pipe; a proper staircase now led directly to it, complete with torches for illumination.
Salazar Slytherin may have harbored prejudices against Muggle-born witches and wizards, left a dangerous Basilisk in his Chamber, and caused harm to young students through that creature—but it was still Slytherin's Chamber, and Slytherin House remained an inseparable part of Hogwarts.
After careful consideration, Dumbledore decided to preserve the Chamber, transforming it into an open exhibition area after some repairs and redecoration. From then on, any Hogwarts student or authorized adult could visit the Chamber of Secrets—though Harry couldn't fathom why anyone would want to see that ugly old statue.
The statue had been restored to its original condition, and the area behind it, where Slytherin once lived and conducted magical experiments, was also open to the public. Of course, there was nothing left there—Voldemort had long since cleared it out.
So… let them look. The more they saw, the better.
During this time, Hogwarts saw a steady stream of visitors, young and old, witches and wizards, all drawn to the Chamber of Secrets. No Hogwarts graduate could resist the allure of the founders' relics.
For Harry, though, these were all secondary concerns. His focus was on his Animagus form.
Harry had kept a single Mandrake leaf in his mouth for nearly a month now, never swallowing or removing it. The first stage had gone perfectly, and he was on the cusp of the second stage of the Animagus ritual. But it was at this critical moment that he and Sirius realized they'd made a colossal mistake.
The second stage of the Animagus ritual required removing the Mandrake leaf from the mouth on the day between one full moon and the next, exactly a month later. The leaf had to be placed in a crystal phial filled with saliva, left to soak in pure moonlight—only on a full moon night, and only in clear weather, free of clouds.
That wasn't all. A single hair from the would-be Animagus had to be added to the phial under the moonlight, along with a silver teaspoon of dew collected from a place untouched by sunlight or human presence for seven full days. Finally, a Death's Head Moth chrysalis was needed. The mixture then had to be stored in a quiet, dark place, undisturbed until the next thunderstorm arrived.
It was an incredibly tedious process. One misstep meant starting over from the beginning, and even this stage wasn't the end—there were still more requirements to come. But the real issue, the one Harry and Sirius only now realized, was that it was winter.
Halloween had passed, and the next major holiday was Christmas—obviously a snowy season.
So, the question was: where in Britain's winter was anyone going to find a thunderstorm?
"…So, you went through all this trouble to track me down and drag me here… just for the Animagus ritual?"
Inside the Great Totem, in the Shaman's office on the first floor.
The man sitting on the sofa by the fireplace spoke, struggling to keep his expression under control. He took a deep breath, then rubbed his face vigorously with his palms.
"I have to admit, Sirius… this is one I didn't see coming. You always manage to surprise me."
"Thanks," Sirius replied with a shrug from across the room. "Glad I can still keep you on your toes."
"It's a surprise, alright. A surprise so big I can barely believe it—er, hello, Harry. Can I call you that?" The man turned to Harry, a touch of nervousness in his voice.
"Of course," Harry nodded. "I know who you are. My father's friend, Remus Lupin."
To be honest, Remus Lupin, who had lived freely in the outside world, looked almost as rough as Sirius had right after his escape from Azkaban. He was painfully thin.
His face was etched with wrinkles, his hair streaked with gray, and his clothes were tattered. He looked like he'd just wandered out of some wilderness—and in truth, he had been living a nomadic life for years.
At a glance, he seemed exhausted, his face pale and weary.
"That's a relief," Lupin said, visibly relaxing.
It wasn't just Harry sizing up Lupin; Lupin was observing Harry in return. He could see traces of his old friend James in Harry's face, but the resemblance ended there.
Harry's demeanor was far more composed than James had been at that age. If you ignored his youth, Lupin might have thought he was speaking to an adult. And, truth be told, Harry couldn't be treated as an ordinary child.
A full-fledged Hogwarts professor, creator of unprecedented new magic, a shaman, a Basilisk slayer… The mere thought of the information Lupin had gathered made his head spin. He'd never imagined his reunion with his best friend's son would unfold like this.
"You don't look like you've had an easy time these past years," Sirius said, his tone uncharacteristically somber. "Have you really been living out in the wild all this time? No wonder I haven't seen you since I got out. I thought you were avoiding me…"
"The wild, yeah… seems like the only place in the world that suits me," Lupin said with a self-deprecating smile. "As you can see, because of… well, you know why, I can't hold down a job. I don't even have enough money for decent clothes. Ha, who could've imagined life would turn out like this back when we were students?"
"You might've noticed—or maybe you haven't, being a Hogwarts professor and a genius of the wizarding world, Harry," Lupin said, suddenly smiling at him. "Yes, I'm a werewolf. Your father and Sirius knew from early on. We were close friends. I owe Dumbledore a lot—he took a huge risk letting a young werewolf attend Hogwarts. He's truly a great man."
"I won't argue with that," Sirius said, finally perking up. He grinned. "You wouldn't believe how wild we were back then. Don't let Lupin's current 'well-behaved' look fool you—he was way more mischievous than you'd think. The whole reason we learned to become Animagi was because James wanted to keep Lupin company when he transformed."
"Those were the best memories of my life," Lupin said, a genuine smile breaking through. "Even after all these years, I can't forget them… Harry, your father and your godfather were the best people in the world."
"As for what happened back then… ha, what right do I have to blame you?" Lupin gave a bitter smile, shaking his head. "I was furious, Sirius, especially when I heard you'd betrayed James and brought Voldemort to him. I wanted to storm Azkaban and kill you myself."
"But twelve years later, after I left the werewolf packs in the forests, the wizarding world gave me a different story. The world's changed so much."
"Peter was the real traitor. Sirius was innocent. Harry's a professor now, and there's this new magic… Merlin's beard!"
"Hard to believe, right?" Sirius said, clearly enjoying Lupin's shock. He clapped Harry's shoulder hard. "Harry's incredible. I've never seen a kid like him."
"He's practically your clone," Lupin teased.
At that, both Sirius and Lupin burst into laughter, the awkwardness and distance between the old friends melting away in an instant.
"I owe you an apology, Lupin," Sirius said after the laughter died down, his tone serious. He paused for a moment. "For not trusting you back then. Twelve years ago, when we chose the Secret-Keeper, James and I didn't pick you. We chose Peter… because of your werewolf status. Voldemort was recruiting werewolves, offering them generous terms. I'm sorry…"
Doubting Lupin because of his condition, only to have their trust in Peter cost them everything—that was the guilt buried deep in Sirius's heart, the real reason he hadn't sought out his old friend after escaping Azkaban.
He couldn't face him.
The room fell silent, save for the crackling of the fire in the hearth.
"…It's in the past, Sirius," Lupin said softly. "Back then, even I didn't know what the future held. I accept your apology."
To Harry, Sirius—who had spent twelve years in the unchanging hell of Azkaban—seemed less grounded than Lupin, who had endured nearly twelve years of wandering in the wizarding world. Lupin's edges had been worn smooth by time and hardship.
What mattered was the present. Things were good now, and that was enough.
"Anyway, it's all behind us. We know who the real traitor is now, and Harry's hunting him down," Sirius said, forcibly steering the conversation to lighter ground. "Trust me, Lupin, things will get better for you too. I'm not planning to live off the Black family fortune forever—I want to build something of my own. Maybe you'd like to help?"
"…Of course," Lupin said, a smile breaking through. "If you don't mind."
"We've said it before—your little furry problem is just that, a little problem," Sirius said, rubbing his hands together excitedly. "Now, back to the Animagus thing. Don't you want to know what Harry's form will be? Will it be a stag like James? Though I doubt it—Harry's personality is way different."
A wizard's Animagus form was determined by a mix of factors: personality, appearance, lineage, personal inclinations, and more.
--
Support me & read more advance & fast update chapter on my pa-treon:
pat reon .c-om/windkaze