Thanks for the prompt—I went Potter!lock for this; I hope you don’t mind! Please enjoy!
It both amused and irritated him to admit that he frankly had no clue what had just happened. He had been in his dorm, alone and sitting in the middle of the room with a cauldron stationed in front of him and frankly, everything had been going swimmingly.
Well, right up until he added the wolfsbane, that is. Now, he was lying on the floor with a neon blue mist floating above him. And somehow, he felt lighter. That too, was strange. Just exactly what had happened to him?
Carefully, he stood. Even his feet felt lighter; softer. He looked around for a moment. However strange his body felt, it seemed that his senses had benefited from the accident most of all. Everything he felt, heard, saw and even smelt was sharper; crisper.
Idly, he called for John. But when a sharp mewling sound emitted from his throat, he jumped back—and straight into the eyeline of Anderson’s mirror.
A low, drawn out meow poured from his throat as he groaned and curled up inside himself. He, Sherlock Holmes—the genius of Ravenclaw House—had somehow turned himself into a cat.