They had done it. Harry Potter had the idea from the time he was in his third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but only now was it real. After two long years, Harry and his two best friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, successfully became Animagi on a warm April night. It was Hermione’s research that had helped most. She had heard the horror stories of what could happened if not done correctly and didn’t want anything to go wrong. So, between searching for Horcruxes and working against Lord Voldemort, she spent all of her free time reading books upon books. Now they had managed to do it, and, as far as Harry was concerned, it was the best feeling in the world.

Overcoming Lord Voldemort was the greatest thing Harry could ever imagine doing. The feeling of winning, of good conquering evil, and avenging all of the cruel deaths, was something that nothing could compare to. It still made Harry sick, thinking of all the innocent people lost, especially those closest to him and because of that, defeating Lord Voldemort was a final gift to those left behind. Those left behind with holes in their hearts, yearning and missing, those who would never see their husbands, wives, sisters, brothers, children, or parents again. Harry was not unfamiliar with the feeling. The wondering, the pain, the loss of all you had. Losing his parents at a year old, the closest thing he had to a father, to a brother, at fifteen, and Dumbledore the following year did not leave him a stranger to hurt. Dumbledore – his hero, his mentor, the man with all the answers, the man who did all he could to protect him. It was like Harry had lost three fathers in his lifetime.

This accomplishment was quite different, however. In a way, it was greater than conquering Lord Voldemort. This was greater than him; it was in his blood, part of him. This wasn’t for the Wizarding World or even for the Muggle World. It was for himself, for the Marauders – his own connection to them. Harry knew it would make them proud. And it made him proud too. It was his own tribute to Prongs, Padfoot and Moony – the true Marauders; only this was with his own best friends. The two people who were just as loyal to him as Sirius and Remus had been to his father.

It was the perfect night for their first adventure. The air was sweet, the way it only was before summer’s approach. A gentle breeze caressed Harry’s face, ruffling his hair affectionately. Above him was the vast, never ending, clear sky. It was painted navy, with streaks of violet and twinkling stars dotting it generously. Shining brightly was the yellow crescent moon. It was crescent moon that would forever remind Harry of Albus Dumbledore’s half-moon spectacles.

Harry took a deep breath. Hogwarts – he still couldn’t believe he was back.

It had reopened upon Lord Voldemort’s fall, after being closed for a year, and now Harry was completing his seventh and final year. His walking had slowed until he reached an expected halt. Ron and Hermione had done the same. The three friends gazed around the castle and grounds, as if they wanted to absorb it all, keep it fresh in their memories for all of time. Harry wanted to remember the castle and grounds forever, and the bad and the good that came with it.

The lake; Harry wasn’t overly fond of it, but it was where Lily Evans had yelled at James Potter, where he saved Ron in the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. It was where he was attacked by a hundred Dementors, narrowly saving Sirius’ life, along with his own. He did have a few moments of bliss there, though. It was where he, Ron and Hermione used to sit and do homework under the beech tree near the shore, so many sun kissed days ago.

The lightning-struck tower – where Dumbledore had died at the hands of Severus Snape. The Whomping Willow, where Remus Lupin used to sneak off to every full moon to transform accompanied by his three friends. It was the tree that almost killed Ron and himself in the Weasley’s flying Ford Anglia. The Forbidden Forest; Harry’s eyes fell upon with a small smile. It was the place Harry first saw Lord Voldemort, or what was left of him; it was where he got a glimpse of the dragon he had to face in the Triwizard Tournament; it was where he and Hermione led Dolores Umbridge in fifth year; where he first met Aragog who, respectively, gave permission for his children to eat him and Ron. It had been Grawp’s temporary place of residence, which was something Harry still couldn’t fathom, even if it was Hagrid. Yes, the old trees of the Forbidden Forest had seen much more than he could imagine.

In the distance he could see the Quidditch Pitch. It was his favorite place at Hogwarts. The maze that lead to Cedric Diggory’s death entered his mind for a fleeting moment, only to be replaced with much better memories. Ones varying from first year to seventh year, teammates changing, going from Oliver Wood to Ron Weasley; he smiled at the thought of Luna Lovegood commentating and her lion hat. Memories of him flying, losing the bones in his arm, winning the cup, and celebrating victory ran through is head, to the distant verses of “Weasley Is Our King.� It was where he played the game that he and his father both loved.

Smiling ruefully, he looked at Ron and Hermione as they began towards the Forbidden Forest. They both looked pensive. Hermione looked up and smiled nervously. “I hate this stupid forest,� Ron mumbled under his breath.

Hermione, who was now biting her lip, raised an eyebrow and smiled, but her eyes were still worried. “What?� Ron asked hotly, noticing her raised eyebrow and knowing look. “You don’t know the forest like Harry and I do.� Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I’ve been in there, it’s not that bad,� Hermione argued with another eye roll.

“Yeah, with Hagrid it wasn’t, he didn’t happen to introduce you to his giant ruddy spider, did he? No, you were in the Hospital Wing, nice and cozy, not almost eaten alive.�

“I was petrified!� Hermione reminded sharply, glowering at Ron. He didn’t flinch or relent.

“Excuses, excuses,� he mumbled under his breath. Hermione just shook her head, raising her eyes upward, once again.

“It was pretty bad, Hermione,� Harry added with a smile of mutual understanding in Ron’s direction. They alone knew how terrible it had been in there, even more so for Ron, who suffered from a severe case of arachnophobia. “But never mind that, you don’t look too great. Worried?� he asked, observing her chewed lip. He knew Hermione too well.

“It’s illegal!� she burst out. Both Harry and Ron knew that she had been holding that in all day, perhaps all year, even. “I mean, we aren’t registered at the Ministry. We could get in big trouble! I wonder what the punishment is for that. I hope it’s not Azkaban. That would be just terrible,� she began talking rapidly, almost to herself. Some things just didn’t change. Hermione had broken many rules in her days, along with Harry and Ron, but it didn’t make her any less loose with them, especially Ministry laws, even though she knew only too well how corrupt the Ministry was.

“Calm down,� Harry ordered sternly, but kindly. Her face was now flushed, her breathing ridged. “We won’t get caught,� Harry said reassuringly. She seemed to collect herself. They had stopped walking and Harry was facing her.

“It’s just another adventure,� said Ron happily. He wasn’t nearly as concerned as Hermione about breaking the law. Just add it to the pile, he figured. “Don’t worry.�
Hermione still didn’t look sure. Visions of her in Azkaban and her wand being snapped in two were apparently flying through her head.

“We need to do this,� Harry said, his eyes pleading. “I need to do this,� he added softly. “It’s for Sirius.�

“It’s the ultimate gift to him. Imagine how his face would beam if he knew what we were doing,� said Ron, with a sad smile. Sirius’ name seemed to bring Hermione back to where she was before. She wanted to do it. It was an adventure; one they would have forever. Hermione gave a ready smile, as they resumed walking and reached the edge of the forest.

“Ready?� Harry asked nervously. It would be his first time in his animal form for more than a few minutes– in his father’s animal form. Ron nodded anxiously. Hermione smiled weakly. There was a sharp intake of breath, as they all inhaled at the same moment.

Where Harry, Ron and Hermione once stood were now three animals. In Ron’s spot was now a friendly dog, a Jack Russell Terrier. Hermione was now an elegant brown owl (its feathers slightly bushy), with her knowing brown eyes. And instead of Harry, there was now a majestic stag. It was white and pure, so similar to one that used to trot through the forest years ago, only this one had bright green eyes rather than hazel.

Without thinking about it, Harry began to run. The tickling breeze now whipped around his furry face, a feeling not even his Firebolt could achieve. He was free. Free to roam where he pleased, to run as far as his four legs would carry him. He darted into the heart of the forest, the moonlight guiding him. He didn’t need to stop to see if Ron and Hermione were running (or flying) with him. He knew they were there. His limbs moved gracefully, as though he were one with the wind, with the ground, with the sky. The moon above him didn’t seem so far away. Sirius, Dumbledore, his mother and father, none of them seemed so far away anymore. It was like heaven and earth were united.

Harry was more aware of all around him. But it wasn’t that he was just aware, he was part of it. The hum of every cricket was now a lullaby that he had known all his life. The small critters scurrying about him were almost like old friends. They were a familiar comfort. He darted around sturdy trees as if he had run the path he was on a million times before. He could feel the fresh grass beneath his four feet. It didn’t matter that it was wet and probably staining his white fur; he was content with it all. He was a part of it all.

As Harry ran, he could hear distant echoes, like a whisper that had been awaiting him. The murmur was written in the trees, in the air, in the sky. The wind whistling all around him shouted it in a hushed tone. It was the voice of the forest, the voice of Sirius, the voice of Dumbledore, the voice of his father. “Prongs rides again,� it called out to him, ringing through the swaying branches, through the forest, up into the ageless night sky and down into the depths of the murky lake. The voice was eternal, undying. It was inside himself.