Kapitel 41: Chapter 41
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Transfiguration was curious in its own way. Harry was quite interested in the ability to convert the world around him into sharp pointy objects. Even McGonogall could not quite repress the shudder at the maniacal gleam in his eye. She consoled herself with the thought that it was merely the son channelling his father. Yes, that was a perfectly reasonable explanation, at least until she could get to what was in essence, her private stash of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. At least the boy was polite enough to be competent enough to unwittingly support her internal assertion. Somehow, just looking at him as a green eyed James potter was instinctively wrong. But there was sufficient convoluted logic to ease her discomfort in the area.
As for Harry himself, he was quite in his element, turning matchstick into needle and then into senbon and into a miniature spike. It was all too fun. Also, he was in Ravenclaw, which meant he had a license to excel, without being branded any of the singularly annoying titles that befell skilled, talented or intelligent people. It was refreshing in a way. He was no Orochimaru, but he did possess the vague and somewhat disturbing urge to tinker. It was however thankful that nobody bothered to look at his work after his initial success. Only Kami knew what they would make of the spiked finger claw with tiny skulls on its non reflective black surface. He returned it to a needle in the end, a perfect specimen for the professor to collect.
There was a lot of free time given to first years. The idea of course was familiarization, acclimatization, assimilation or whatever else they probably called this attempt to get the eleven year olds to mingle and make friends. Unsurprisingly enough, this was a product of the Dumbledore philosophy, which by the way, also produced the idea that sticking first year gryffs and snakes was a perfectly good idea, never mind that enough people respected tradition to 'continue the good fight'.
Of course, Harry had no intention of having heart warming talks with his colleagues in the dorms. In fact, he had to consciously remind himself that children lived with him, that he was biologically eleven, that he should make contact, at least for appearances sake if nothing else. So what if jutsu theory was utterly beyond these peasants. A good ninja is also a politician of sorts. His actions are viewed by others and with them he shapes the goodwill of the populace, the client, the enemy, and the comrade. And talking was a pretty big part of that.
Maybe he could boldly step out and talk to the 'shy' Hufflepuff named Tetsuya. Not only would it creep out and annoy the paranoid fellow(especially after the actions on the train), it would totally upset the poor chaps anonymity. In the Hogwarts of today, being as stalked as he was, it would destroy any chance the boy had of sneaking off to spy. After all, what did the Boy-Who-Lived see in the quiet Hufflepuff? What quality marked him as worthy of the attention of the overly famous saviour? It would be an excellent social experiment, especially considering what camouflaged clones could ferret out. It was a thought.
Charms was quite invigorating. Really, there was something about the short professor that leant an energy to the room that none of the other classes could boast. You wanted to do well. And you didn't feel too disappointed if you didn't. The subject was rather appropriately named it seemed. However, charms were not as instinctive for Harry as he would have liked.
The levitation spell, was very difficult to cast. His wand movements were precise, his enunciation of Latin perfect. The thrice damned feather refused to rise. It was just less difficult to reign in his chakra from responding to the sheer will he was exerting to magically float the feather. In the end he managed it, thankfully. The idea that he was incapable of the basic charm was something he couldn't contemplate. Sure these spells were flashy, but the behind the scenes potential of magic was astounding! The traps he could create with a wave! The ambushes he could perfect! The pranks he could subtly inflict upon the rest of the school! 'Where did the last one come from I wonder...'
Herbology was quite bland. Compared to the excitement of potions or the possibilities of transfiguration, plants were so boring. The myriads of moving and audible plants in the greenhouse were an excellent distraction. But it wasn't really all that great. It was far more interesting to watch how the plants reacted when clones began to inject chakra here and there. Sprout would never look more annoyed in her life. Especially since it wasn't magic that was making the plants weird.
Weirder than 'normal' magical plants anyway.
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In all this madness, Tetsuya the magical ninja (Blast these British! Even I'm saying the word..."magic"!) was plodding around trying not to become noticed. It was bad enough his head of house now seemed to have an eagle eye on him. But it seemed that he was being spied on, constantly. Oh he could sense their stares, the rising hair on his neck. But he could never catch them, whoever it was. And he had even tried to send shuriken at them once, at a speed no wand waver in this castle could possibly dodge or defend, save Dumbledore. And even he would leave a sign if defending. No, this was somebody or something far more sinister. He was being stalked by ninja, and one that was far better than him. It could only be...HIM!
One step above the chain of command, Taka was duly informed that a psycho super ninja was stalking the operative. He pursed his lips and told the boy to be careful. What else was he supposed to do?
Snape was told, after the report had passed a couple of hands that somebody was being stalked in the castle. When he tried to raise it with the headmaster, he was told "Harry obviously must get used to these things. Though, it is nice of you to help him in this manner. Are you sure you don't want a lemon drop?"
Needless to say, the dungeons were saved from the inevitable din only thanks to the miracle of silencing charms.
Defence Against Dark Arts, taught by the stuttering mess called Quirrel was incredibly bothersome, his teaching irksome, and the whole hour was boredom. Surely this was enough evidence to put that twinkly eyed menace to society in a nice windowless white room, wearing a nice tight jacket *hint*hint*nudge*nudge*.
Even the stuttering was suspect. Seriously, the guy was way too bad an actor to not be called on it. Harry concluded that either he was a mass murderer or a child molester. He practised instead, trying to levitate the table. He should have been rewarded for not trying to transfigure it into something that was just enough to eat the professor, like a mouse or even a cat.
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Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
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