Howard won't be alone in that. Cedric's mad at himself too. Really, he shouldn't have tried to decorate for the cats with food in his mouth---one syllable gone wrong and look where he'd ended up. It'd be amazing if it was voluntary---Cedric, the fastest-learning Animagus ever?

But he knows he's not that lucky. He's lucky to still have his mind, and he's lucky to have this chance. And even if it doesn't succeed, he's lucky to have Howard still at his side.

With those thoughts in mind, he purrs under Howard's hand and snuggles in for the wait.

It starts five minutes later, and when it does there's no mistaking it. There's a distinct shift in the energy of the room, and the cat lets out a piercing howl of pain before he's silenced by the twisting of his innards.

The skin bubbles, the bones grind, and the torturous process of changing an entire structure begins. It's getting bigger, not smaller, as a first good sign. Every body part reforms inside and out, leaving the grotesque form convulsing in pain for the entire procedure. There's a point where it doesn't look feline or human, and if Cedric could think he might think he was turning into a horse.

Fortunately, he doesn't. The warping body resolves itself into the human Cedric. He shivers face-down on the floor, a continuous low moan sounding from his throat.

"S-sorry," he tries to say after a moment. The voice almost sounds like Cedric's been gargling rocks.