Vizette double-checked the Animagus notes, ensuring every detail aligned with his own records. Satisfied, he shifted into a more relaxed stance and restructured his mind palace, reshaping the labyrinthine barriers into sturdy city walls with a broad path leading deep into his psyche.
The full Animagus ritual was a marathon, not a sprint. He couldn't afford a slip at the outset—especially not one that derailed the entire process and squandered precious time.
Drawing a steady breath, Vizette selected a fresh mandrake leaf, admiring its glossy sheen before slipping it into his mouth.
The notes described a gradual transformation upon contact: first, the earthy scent of fresh grass; then a faint dizziness, like a fleeting blur in his vision.
But Vizette felt none of that.
Instead, a sudden lightness washed over him, akin to diving into a Pensieve. He became the leaf itself, materializing at the edge of his mind's fortifications before gliding along the open path toward its core.
The world shifted, reminiscent of a Magia Revelio glimpse but infused with an otherworldly vibrancy. A masterpiece unfolded in his mind's eye—"The Starry Night," vivid and alive. The moon and stars swelled into exaggerated orbs of brilliant yellow, swirling and pulsing in hypnotic rhythm.
The midnight canvas twisted, a clash of deep indigo and fiery crimson eddying around the celestial dance, advancing and retreating in mesmerizing waves.
Vizette had sampled potions under Professor Snape's watchful eye, deducing ingredients from their effects—including hallucinogens. This was no mere drug-induced haze; the young mandrake leaf had sharpened his perceptions, unveiling hidden layers of reality much like Magia Revelio.
Lockhart's books touched on such phenomena, albeit superficially. The fraud knew mandrake theory but clearly not practice—otherwise, he wouldn't have collapsed from a juvenile's scream and ended up in the hospital wing.
As his awareness deepened, the leaf settled onto the mind's walls. The barriers softened, sprouting a tender bud that fused seamlessly with the leaf. Vitality surged; branches unfurled, new leaves bloomed.
The fusion birthed a thriving mandrake, woven from both the leaf and fragments of Vizette's essence. The boundaries blurred as it matured, only to shed its foliage and wither, roots burrowing into the soil until nothing remained.
With the vision's fade, the starry spectacle normalized. The mandrake in his soul—and his mouth—dissolved into a faint, herbal essence that absorbed into his bloodstream.
Far from drained, Vizette buzzed with renewed vigor, as if he'd downed a revitalizing draught followed by a deep, restorative slumber.
He frowned, flipping through the notes once more. "This doesn't match the initial phase at all... though echoes appear later on. What could cause this?"
The night stretched on, the full moon still high. With Sprout's greenhouse yielding ample mandrakes—and Vizette's prudent stockpile—he resolved to test again.
"Accio mandrake leaf!" His wand flicked; another leaf sailed into his grasp.
The second trial mirrored the first: precise steps, identical result. Two leaves integrated, leaving him sharper, more alert.
Descending the stairs from the Owlery, Vizette mulled the anomaly. Ritual magic like Animagus demanded soul-deep preparation—materials, time, safeguards—to grasp one's inner self without risking a monstrous half-form.
By dawn, he reached Hogwarts Castle and rapped on Professor McGonagall's door.
"Come in," her voice called.
She stood in her emerald robes, hair neatly pinned. "Vizette? Trouble?"
He nodded. "Something odd, Professor. Sorry if I've interrupted your morning."
"Nonsense," she said, a faint smile softening her stern features. "I told you to seek me out at once for any issues." Glancing at the window, she added, "Full moon tonight... perfect conditions. Clear skies for the moonlight, even a view of Jupiter."
"Exactly," Vizette agreed. "I relaxed fully, dropped my defenses, and placed the leaf—"
McGonagall listened intently, her expression hardening, lips pressing thin. She adjusted her spectacles, lost in contemplation.
Vizette's experience was unprecedented in her long career. No witch or wizard she knew had dissolved a mandrake leaf into liquid essence at the ritual's dawn.
…
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