Rufus Scrimgeour stood at the edge of a vast, secluded field, miles away from the Ministry and prying eyes. It was quiet, save for the rustling of the trees as a soft wind blew through the clearing. The isolation was deliberate. He had no interest in being seen—not for this.
His mind replayed the thought over and over again: Dumbledore was the only one Voldemort ever feared. The words haunted him. They had been whispered among the Aurors for years. While Rufus had never doubted his own skill, he was keenly aware that political power would mean nothing when the inevitable confrontation with Voldemort arrived. If he ever hoped to stand a chance, he would need more than Ministry authority.
The work of an Auror had always been grueling, but this was different. He needed to prepare for something beyond anything he had faced before. So, he had spent the last few weeks pouring over obscure texts and hidden records in the Ministry’s restricted archives. Books filled with forgotten spells, dangerous incantations, and long-buried magical theory. If there was knowledge to give him an edge, it would be here.
One such spell had caught his attention, tucked away in a passage describing the forbidden arts of Transfiguration. He remembered Moody using a variant once—turning a small spider into a monstrous one. The principle had intrigued him. Why not apply that logic to oneself?
What if he could combine that with his Animagus transformation? His Animagus form—an imposing lion—had always been a source of pride, a symbol of his inner strength. But what if he could amplify it? Turn himself into a giant, battle-ready beast? A lion larger than life, one that could take down any threat that stood before him.
The idea simmered in his mind, growing more vivid with each passing day. The potential for battle magic intertwined with his Animagus abilities excited him. It was dangerous, certainly—perhaps bordering on reckless—but Scrimgeour wasn’t one to shy away from risk. Not anymore.
Today would be the first test.
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He exhaled sharply, turning his gaze toward the horizon. The open field stretched before him, barren but for the grass that swayed gently in the breeze. It was a perfect training ground, away from the Ministry's reach and the eyes of those who would question what he was doing.
His wand was in his hand before he knew it, fingers wrapping around the familiar wood with practiced ease. The transformation came quickly—the familiar surge of magic coursing through his veins as his body shifted, bones stretching and muscles reforming. In seconds, the human was gone, and in his place stood a massive lion, its fur golden and eyes blazing with feral intensity.
Rufus, in his Animagus form, prowled the edge of the field. It was always like this—an explosion of power that flooded his senses, making him feel more alive than ever before. But this time, he was determined to push further.
His mind flickered back to the spell from Moody’s training. He envisioned himself, not as just a lion, but as a colossal one—a predator far larger than any natural beast. He would need to channel the magic carefully, control it, or risk losing himself in the transformation.
Concentrating hard, he flicked his paw—still gripping his wand—and cast the spell. He imagined himself growing, his Animagus form expanding, stretching into something far larger. The spell crackled to life, and he felt the magic pulse through him.
But then, something went wrong.
His muscles spasmed, and instead of growing, his form wavered. His paws jerked uncontrollably, shrinking and stretching erratically. The spell faltered, and with a jolt, he was thrown out of his Animagus transformation, collapsing back into his human form.
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He gasped for breath, his body aching from the failed attempt. Rufus pushed himself up, frustration mounting. This was not how it was supposed to go. He needed to try again.
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The second attempt was no better.
Once again, he transformed into the lion, the spell in his mind ready to unleash. He roared, focusing all his energy on growing, becoming more than just a predator. For a moment, he felt it working—his body began to expand, his paws sinking into the earth under the weight of his growing form.
But then came the same resistance. His magic surged, and instead of growing in strength, it exploded in wild, uncontrollable bursts. His fur sparked with erratic energy, his limbs contorting in unnatural ways. Panic seized him as the transformation began to spiral out of control.
In a flash, the spell collapsed, throwing him back into his human body. Rufus staggered, his breath ragged. Anger flared within him—he had expected challenges, but not outright failure. He clenched his wand tighter. It can work, he told himself. It must.
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Hours passed, each attempt resulting in similar frustration. His body ached from repeated transformations, his mind weary from the concentration required. Yet Rufus Scrimgeour was nothing if not relentless. He had never been one to give up easily, and today would be no different.
After a moment’s rest, he stood up once more, determination etched on his face. This time, he would get it right. He could feel the spell was close—he just needed to find the right balance, the precise control that would allow him to master this combination of magic.
He transformed again, the lion once more standing tall in the field. The spell crackled around him, and this time, he moved slower, more deliberate. He let the magic settle into his body, guiding it with precision, resisting the temptation to force it.
The transformation began—slowly, steadily. His form expanded, his paws sinking deeper into the earth. His muscles stretched, his golden fur shimmering in the sunlight. The magic pulsed in time with his heartbeat, each wave of power pushing him further into this new form.
And then, it happened. He felt his body lock into place, the transformation stabilizing. Rufus had done it—his Animagus form had grown, towering above the field. He was massive, a lion of mythic proportions, his roar shaking the ground beneath him.
He moved, testing his new form. His paws left craters in the earth as he walked, the power flowing through him like never before. The control was exhilarating. For the first time, he felt that he might be ready for the challenges ahead—ready for whatever lay on the horizon.
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But, as fate would have it, he was not alone.
A witch had been traveling near the field, taking a shortcut to avoid the busy roads. She hadn’t expected to see anything out of the ordinary in such a quiet, remote area. But when she saw the giant lion looming in the distance, her heart stopped.
At first, she thought it was some sort of magical creature—a beast beyond comprehension. But as she watched, the lion moved with the grace and purpose of a wizard. It didn’t take long for her to realize that this was no ordinary animal. Whoever was controlling this magic was powerful—and dangerous.
She gasped, instinctively backing away, her hand trembling as she reached for her wand. She had to get out of here, had to tell someone what she had seen. This wasn’t something she could just forget.
Rufus, still in his lion form, sensed the disturbance. He turned, his sharp eyes locking onto the distant figure of the witch. A surge of frustration washed over him—he had been so careful to choose this remote location, and yet, someone had witnessed his secret.
With a low growl, he began to move toward her, but she was already running, disappearing into the trees before he could react. He cursed under his breath, shifting back into his human form.
With a low growl, he began to move toward her, his giant form swift despite its size. The witch turned and fled, her cloak flapping wildly as she bolted into the trees. She was fast, but Rufus was faster.
He shifted back into his human form mid-stride, launching himself forward with renewed speed. He couldn’t let her escape. She’d seen too much, and if word got out about what he was practicing, it could be disastrous.
Branches snapped beneath his boots as he tore through the forest, his eyes locked on her retreating figure. The witch glanced back, fear etched across her face. Rufus raised his wand, prepared to stop her with a spell, but hesitation gripped him. She was just a bystander, someone who had stumbled upon his training by accident.
Still, he couldn’t afford to let her go.
“Incarcerous!” he shouted, ropes shooting from the tip of his wand, wrapping around the witch’s legs. She yelped as she tumbled to the ground, her wand skittering out of reach.