The Potter monster

I decided to tap dance early, figuratively speaking. In the beginning it was a shock and a joy to be in the Boy Who Survived universe, but then I got discouraged. I always dreamed of fitting nicely into this story, but fate dealt a much crueler hand. I'm only some thousand years away from Harry, give or take a couple years. It's frustrating and depressing, but there's nothing that can be done. Or can there? There is another fact that confuses me and gets my brain working in the right direction. How come the great good wizard was assigned to the Slytherin faculty is a very interesting question. If he was taught by the founders of Hogwarts, then this is explained by the fact that Salazar wanted to get a very promising magician under his command and managed to discern the qualities he needed. This fact shows that the great wizard is purposeful and ambitious. I hope he used the qualities for his own good. However, the deed committed by Merlin only proves that he is kind and there is nothing to worry about. Merlin himself is fiddling with something in the kitchen and left me there on the table in the lab, but now wrapped me in a blanket, put a bowl of milk and a piece of oatmeal cookie. I refused to eat finely chopped pieces of raw meat, because I wasn't ready for a drastic change in my diet. If meat is to be eaten, it is to be eaten exclusively in roasted form.While the bearded man is busy, I decided to try to get used to the new skin a little faster. I can feel myself getting more comfortable using the fox's body with each passing hour, but I'm already itching to try. By the way, during the blackout my consciousness fell something like inside myself and hoped to see the magical core, reserve or potential as usually written in such cases, but alas nothing found. I can't be a magician. I'm just an animal. Did it upset me? No! Many illusionists in my world have performed inexplicable miracles without any powers. All they had was intelligence, flexibility, determination, ingenuity and a desire to amaze their audiences to give them a piece of unexplained wonder. This kind of motivation keeps me from moping and slipping into depression. What happened is over. Okay, let's drop the lyrics and continue learning to walk. Left. Right. Back left. Back right. And now all together. Left, right, back... damn, I got my nose in it again. I rubbed my sore nose with my paw and sneezed openly. It's all dust and clutter in here.And he left his wand beside me like a useless piece of twig. I don't know how he exists under these conditions. Well, let's fix it. I opened my mouth wide, took in more air, and squealed as loudly as if I'd been hit on the paw by a bulldozer. Merlin was beside me in a flash, all disheveled. He wasn't wearing a cap or a robe, and he was dressed in a homely way. If I didn't know who it was, I would have thought that unshaven Uncle Egor had returned from the forest with a basket of mushrooms. I began to actively wave my butt and small tail on the table, like a broom, hinting that he should start cleaning. From the indignant look on his face, he didn't seem to understand what I was yelling and doing now. Then I carefully picked up the wand, which was heavy for me, with my teeth, and brought it to him, placing it on the edge of the table. Then I rubbed my nose defiantly with my paw and sneezed again. Merlin realized my thought and smiled slightly. He took his wand in his hand and waved it, then spoke clearly: - Tergeo. Suddenly all the dust and dirt in the room rose evenly from the surfaces and began to tornado into the wand, like a powerful vacuum cleaner pulling in debris. A couple seconds and the lab was clean again, but the mess was also present. As the last of the debris flew into the edge of the wand and disappeared, Merlin looked at the fox as if to say, “What do you think?”. He saw a mouth open in surprise and black beady eyes that read, “Cool. Can I get more?”. Merlin smirked and hung his wand in a pouch on his belt. After figuring something out in his mind and under a pitying look that I didn't even have to fake, he decided to take me in his arms. Again. If this keeps up, I'm going to learn to walk. Merlin wanted to show me around the house and how it was furnished, explaining things to me like a three-year-old. It turned out he had a relatively small one-story house with several rooms. A kitchen with a dining room, a large laboratory and one bedroom. And that's it. That's it! The bonus was the mess and dust in the other rooms. Verdict: Dirty! It just proves that there are no perfect people. Even the great are not immune to faults and flaws. I felt like biting Merlin because I was ashamed of him. He's not a feeble old man to be so neglectful of his home. What if there are visitors?! No, I know he's King Arthur's advisor and he's at work 24 hours a day, but that's no excuse in my opinion. In my human life, I was not an ardent fan of wet rags and mops, but I completely agreed with my parents that you can't live in filth. Now, jokes-mockery aside and let's start pressing on. Although-I-I guess you can combine the pleasant with the useful. Terrorized Merlin with my screams all week. I'd finally gotten the hang of my paws, and I was free to move around the house, looking for trouble. I made notes on where to stash food in case my rescuer was late on business. I'd also gotten a nice little wooden house in the kitchen with a red pillow inside. Merlin had specially transfigured it for me from an oak log. I couldn't sleep on the table in rags forever. Maybe he was trying to bribe me not to bother him, but it didn't work. When he transgressed into the house after his “regular meeting,” I appeared in front of him. Screaming at the top of my lungs with angry eyes. Then I do a ponytail and go into the room where I found the mess. Poor Merlin, tired after a busy day, couldn't even squeeze out a smile and silently went to clean up. Why does he put up with all this? Because he's a kind soul and can't put a cranky little fox out on the street. And because I'm partly right (though what part is that?). My goal is to teach, to memorize, and to keep the dust from piling up around the house on a reflex level. If the magician doesn't bother to marry, I'll be the wife. For my nose is suffering. Merlin's not sugar-coated, he won't break it with a few strokes of his wand. I, on the other hand, am relatively alive. By the end of the week, the tortured mage had already learned that I should clean the house regularly, not just wave it off for tomorrow. I accordingly stopped shouting at the whole house and mentally praised. Although my ligaments are young, but I was already starting to wheeze. That's why I stopped. I need a break for a couple of days, after which we will proceed to item number two called “neatness and order on the shelves”. Same method. I hope he doesn't put a mute spell on me. The day soon came when I didn't have time to yell. I was lying in my cabin on my pillow, resting after a heavy feed of milk and cookies. Merlin hadn't gone anywhere today, and had spent half the day in the lab, conjuring and writing things down by hand with a quill. Whenever possible, I tried to memorize the spells and movements he used, but they wouldn't do me any good. What good were they if you didn't have the DNA of a mage? They'd be useful, though. There were three knocks on the front door, and Merlin, in a stained apron, went out to invite the guest after another clap in the lab. He came out rather quickly. So he'd been waiting. As soon as my heel stepped over the threshold of the house, I felt an unpleasant energy in my skin. I don't know how to explain it, but I felt in my gut that the man was far from “light”. I poked my head out to see who had come for our souls. It was a young white-skinned woman with red-red hair and blue eyes. Her dress matched the color of her eyes and in her hand was a staff with a spiral on the end. Her gaze radiated cold indifference, and the fluidity of her movements made her graceful. - Hello, Master. - she greeted Merlin politely and warmly. - Judging by your appearance you haven't given up and are still working on that spell? - Hello, Morgana. - Merlin also greeted and gestured to the kitchen. - Remember: nothing is impossible for man. There are obstacles that are difficult to overcome. Would you like an herbal potion? - Thank you, I wouldn't say no. - She agreed tiredly and waved her hand, then her staff sailed off into the corner. If Merlin was happy to have a guest, I wasn't. I know who it is. I've read about her on a website. She's a healer, King Arthur's half-sister, an animagus, an evil sorceress, Merlin's apprentice, and a user of the dark arts, Morgana Le Fay. She's the one who became an enemy to her teacher because he didn't know about the last one. She's the one... who killed Merlin. I'm not thrilled with her presence. It seems the canon demands my intervention.