The next morning, the moment Amanda finished breakfast in the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall pulled her into her office.
Next they would travel via the Floo Network to the Ministry of Magic and, by law, register Amanda's Animagus form.
Professor McGonagall scooped a handful of floo powder into Amanda's hand. "With the amount you read, you must have seen how it works. Step into the fireplace, scatter it at your feet, and clearly shout 'Ministry of Magic'. Be sure to pronounce it properly."
Amanda nodded, her expression blank. "Understood, Professor McGonagall."
Stepping into the fireplace, she flipped her hand and let the floo powder fall. "Ministry of Magic."
Green flames roared up, and Amanda vanished.
A heartbeat later she stepped out of one of the Ministry's many grates into the cavernous atrium.
Her eyes were instantly drawn to the fountain dominating the hall.
The sculpture portrayed Wizards in ornate robes, surrounded by Centaurs, House-elves, and Goblins all paying homage like lesser stars around a moon.
Yet Amanda, who had browsed a few psychology texts, distilled the scene in her mind to three words.
Superiority. Arrogance.
"People always think themselves greater than other beings, yet Centaurs, Goblins, and House-elves each possess unique gifts no human can rival."
Green flames flared again; Professor McGonagall stepped out and moved to Amanda's side, eyeing the fountain.
She rested a hand on the girl's shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "I daresay if the House-elves rebelled this instant, most Wizards wouldn't stand a chance."
Amanda's tone stayed flat. "The books mention that House-Elf magic is a system of its own—very potent."
"A well-read child."
Professor McGonagall smiled approvingly and led her toward the lifts.
A Hogwarts Professor escorting what looked like a first- or second-year Young Wizard drew curious glances from Ministry employees.
They couldn't help staring at McGonagall and Amanda.
Glancing down to confirm her student wasn't discomforted by the attention, McGonagall relaxed.
She merely flicked her eyes, wordlessly warning the onlookers to mind their manners and not frighten the girl.
At that look, almost every employee flinched, memories of their own schooldays flashing back.
After a quick, curious peek they hurried on; they really were quite busy.
Inside the lift Amanda looked up at McGonagall and said evenly, "Thank you, Professor."
She had noticed the subtle protection; courtesy demanded gratitude when help was given.
"You're welcome, Miss Amanda." McGonagall pressed the button for Level Three and waited quietly for the doors to close.
As the doors slid shut, Amanda—without knowing why—felt compelled to construct a mental model of the atrium from what she had just seen.
She began extrapolating the entire Ministry's layout from the visible hall and its probable footprint.
A voice in the back of her mind insisted she refine the model.
Her gaze shifted to the floor buttons: ten levels.
Instantly her mental map stacked upward, each floor inferred from her calculations.
The overall structure sharpened; only the internal details of each level remained hazy.
Yet from the extrapolated dimensions she could already conclude:
No building this large could exist unnoticed on a London street in the Muggle World.
Therefore the Y Country Ministry of Magic must be underground—and deep.
Recalling the texts she had read, she found no precise location given for the Ministry.
So the Ministry wished to remain hidden, she deduced.
Still, no law forbade employees from revealing its whereabouts, and they must know it.
Thus, knowledge would spread outward from staff…
…making the site a semi-open secret.
The lift chimed; doors opened, and Amanda followed McGonagall out.
A scene of bustle greeted her: workers juggling breakfast and desks as they prepared for the day.
Surveying the area and integrating it into her model, she deduced:
The Ministry's architecture was strictly orthogonal—standard load-bearing walls and columns.
That made internal layouts predictable.
From décor and room placement she refined her mental blueprint floor by floor.
By the time they reached a corner cubicle marked "Animagus Registration," her model of the Ministry was complete.
Were she to draw it now, many employees would be stunned: she knew their building better than they did, accuracy at roughly eighty-five percent.
Only a handful of room sizes were slightly off.
Inside her mind stood a miniature Ministry.
The Animagus Registration Office had been the Ministry's easiest post for a century.
Only seven registered Animagi existed; others undoubtedly hid their talent and simply ignored the law.
With no newcomers, the clerk spent every shift in bored idleness.
The post had become something of a Ministry legend.
Today, however, its worker finally had a customer.
Amanda and McGonagall approached the counter; McGonagall cleared her throat.
"Ahem—good morning, Miss West."
"Morning," West mumbled, then snapped fully awake on seeing McGonagall.
Professor McGonagall! What brings you here? Is there a change in your Animagus registration?
No, said Professor McGonagall with a smile, gently ushering Amanda to the counter. I'm here to support my student while she registers.
Huh? West stared down at the tiny Amanda, her mind unable to process what Professor McGonagall had just said.
Hello, Sister West, Amanda greeted politely with a nod.
H-hello, hello...
West answered on autopilot, needing a full five seconds to reboot her brain.
Wait—registration! You mean—here? She shot an incredulous look at Professor McGonagall. You're telling me this child is here to register as an Animagus?!
Of course. Professor McGonagall beamed, ruffling Amanda's hair.
H-how old is she? What year?
West looked down again, utterly unable to guess Amanda's age.
An Animagus already, yet so small... it made no sense.
I'm a second-year in Ravenclaw House at Hogwarts.
Hearing the question, Amanda answered in detail.
A second-year... twelve years old.
West looked dazed as she pulled the registry from beneath the counter and wrote the year and today's date.
She gave her head a brisk shake to clear it.
This was the youngest Animagus on record, and it was happening on her watch.
A flutter of pride stirred in her chest. Your name?
Amanda.
Pretty Eastern name, she thought, nodding as she wrote it down.
Now, please show me your Animagus form.
All right. Amanda nodded. Before West could even expect a wand, the girl's appearance shifted in an instant.
She shot up past two metres, glossy black feathers cloaking her body, glinting crimson under the lights.
Fangs and talons—West sucked in a breath at the sight of the majestic, lethal creature.
A primal dread welled up inside her.
It told her that if this being wanted her dead, she'd never even reach for her wand.
Swallowing hard, West recalled the Muggle animal books she'd studied before taking this job—so she could identify any form that appeared.
The stack had included a volume on prehistoric life, and dinosaurs had featured prominently.
The girl had turned into one of them—Deinonychus, if she remembered right.
She quickly wrote the name before she could forget.
Better safe than sorry. She lifted the registry for Amanda to see.
Is this what you become?
Amanda lowered her head, peered at the word Deinonychus, and gave a big nod.
West exhaled and continued noting the traits.
Features: plumage glossy black, reflecting red under light.
Done.
She nodded; in the next heartbeat Amanda was human again.
Twelve... an Animagus... wandless transformation... I feel utterly useless.
West sighed and stamped the registry.
Beside her, Professor McGonagall spoke, half-teasing, half-serious.
I wouldn't say that, Miss West. We all have different gifts.
Yours, for instance—your Disillusionment Spell was superb.
To this day poor Mr Trennor never learned who salted his pumpkin juice every day for four years.
Pfft—cough! West flushed and spluttered.
It was mutual! He started it—put sugar on my steak.
She gritted her teeth; Merlin knew the trauma of biting into meat sweeter than Honeydukes candy.
And that wretch laughed his head off!
Still, they were the best of friends.
Registration complete, they bade West goodbye. Professor McGonagall whisked Amanda away before Ministry 'old foxes' could swarm the girl.
Back at Hogwarts, Amanda bowed slightly. Thank you, Professor McGonagall, for accompanying me to the Ministry.
Not at all, Miss Amanda. The Professor helped her up, wondering when the girl would stop being so formal.
I'll take my leave, then. Goodbye, Professor McGonagall.
Goodbye, Miss Amanda.
Halfway to the door, the Professor suddenly called after her.
Oh—Miss Granger's parents will arrive at Hogwarts in two days to spend Christmas. If you'd like to meet them, wait in the entrance corridor of Hogwarts Castle.
Amanda's step faltered; she turned and bowed again. Thank you for letting me know, Professor.
Only then did she leave, closing the door softly behind her.
As she walked toward Ravenclaw Tower, her mind, for once, held no thoughts of study.
Uncle and Aunt are coming—and they want to thank me. How can I face their gratitude?
I'm the one at fault.
She pushed the unanswerable question aside, summoned the holiday homework to mind, and made a simple decision.
When I see them, I'll apologise first—whatever happens.
---------------------------------
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! If the story has you hooked and you can't wait to see what happens next, you can unlock 30 chapters in advance over on my Patreon: patreon.com/TLHimejima1
Every bit of support means the world to me so if you're loving the ride, don't forget to drop a Power Stone and let me know.