Unmanageable Mischief

- Chapter Four -

"Ugh..." A raspy groan escaped Harry as he pushed himself up from the hard wood floor.

His spine creaked, his elbows popped, and his knees threatened to give out. Understandably from the ordeal last night, his body was aching viciously. That he'd slept on the hard floor after the fact, likely didn't help either.

Dragging himself to his bed he let himself collapse in a sore heap, thankful that the Dursley's wouldn't be back til tomorrow night. He didn't think he'd have been able to make them breakfast nor due any of his prescribed chores.

He could feel his Magic as well. Although it had always been a rather temperamental thing, that was to say nothing of how it was acting at the moment.

Harry could practically feel it seething underneath his skin. Something he'd have to fix fast, he couldn't have it lashing out at the Dursley's for the slightest emotional inconvenience placed on him.

Harry really didn't want to get expelled from Hogwarts. The final warning, he had received last year had been enough of a scare. Though another part of him was sure he could get away with it if he played his cards with Minister Fudge correctly.

Harry snickered, amusement lacing through him at the thought. The sudden change in his breathing causing his ribs to cringe painfully.

"Bloody hell." He winced. Something had gone wrong last night. His Magic had been far to eager about his transformation, not to mention its absolute refusal to allow him to return to his 'true form'.

Though he wasn't even sure about that anymore. The moment he'd woken up he was struck with a severe feeling of dysmorphia he'd never felt before.

It was an unpleasant feeling. One he'd grown to live with. Now however it was like if you had went from using a spoon to cut a fatty steak to suddenly having access to superb knife only to be forced to use the rusty spoon again. Honestly, it was an odd analogy but Harry couldn't think of a different way to describe it.

Maybe he should say it was comparable to using a simple pen all your life to suddenly being forced to use a quill, just the other way around. Yes that analogy seemed to fit better.

Another groan escaped him as he buried his face into the rough fabric of his pillow. He'd think about the matter later all he wanted to do was sleep some more.

• • • —————— • —————— • • •

Harry had felt as if after years of his body feeling wrong, he'd been shown the light only to be forced back into the dark.

It was probably due to this fact that he became obsessive very quickly over returning to his previous form. The frustration mounting quickly. Especially after his short nap two days before.

"Goddamnit!" Harry cursed through gritted teeth, punching his pillow. The Dursley's had returned from their vacation to wherever two weeks ago.

Honestly, it had been extremely bad timing and it took all the self-control in his body to stop himself from snapping at his relatives when they came banging on his bedroom door in the morning demanding breakfast.

Since he'd woken up from his nap, Harry had been practicing nonstop, slowly mastering the art of transfiguring small bits of his body.

It was the next step of training. One had to master every single small part of the transfiguration, a piece at a time, preparing and adapting the body to the change before adding everything together for the full form.

And it honestly wasn't very difficult, Harry's Magic had completely memorized every single bit of transfiguration required. The only downside and issue was it's absolute eagerness. It was exhausting fighting to control his Magic.