章 30: Year Two - Chapter Five

Transfiguration had us turn birds into goblets. Real living birds into glass goblets. I looked at my bird, its vibrant eyes, its colorful beak, and wondered if it was a species nearing extinction. Was I about to give a hefty hand into its extinction. I concentrated. Taking deep breaths, I reviewed the mental calculations, checked them thrice, applied the proper posture to the spell, and then tapped the bird's side.

I had named the bird Mister Feathers. He was, after all, a great bird. He was really pretty, and nice. I sincerely hoped nothing bad would happen to it.

"Vera Verto," I enunciated it clearly, as I had heard the professor, and many others, do. Others had failed, their glasses still holding on to feathers, or flapping a bit with their bodies made of glass.

There was a popping noise. It was the kind of noise you could find in a firework, but it heralded that I had lost mister Feathers. Clearly, I had killed the poor bird. I quietly opened my eyes, expecting to find the jagged shards and the remains of the poor creature of the lord all over the desk, but instead was pleasantly surprised when I found it alive, if with a glassy beak.

"Miscalculated somewhere, but you didn't explode," I said cheerfully. "Let's...undo this one and try again."

I touched the creature's sides once more. I was happy. Mister Feathers hadn't died.

It exploded into a shrapnel of bones and glass shards.

Someone screamed in the background. For being Gryffindors, they were incredibly traumatized by explosions, or bleeding students. "Mister Umbrus," professor McGonagall said. "You are bleeding."

I glanced up at the professor, and then nodded very slowly. I could feel the blood drip from my forehead. "Infirmary then, professor," I said with a tired sigh.

"You need to remember the correct pronunciation, Mister Umbrus," professor McGonagall stressed. She then looked at the fragments of what remained of the bird, and sighed. "I'll have Hagrid catch a few more."

"P-Professor!" Hermione exclaimed, "That's...Those poor birds! You can't do that."

"Nonsense, Miss Granger. These things happen," professor McGonagall replied. "Why else would I stress the need for serious practice and studies? Rest assured, perhaps one or two will suffice in mastering the spell."

I walked outside and got all the way to the infirmary with nary a thought, even as the warm blood dribbled down from my forehead. Madam Pomfrey sighed at seeing me, and I simply waved at her. A few whispered words, and I was as good as new, ready to return to my assigned task.

"It's Vera Verto, no?" I asked, looking at my new colleague. Apparently, Hermione had moved to stand by my side during transfiguration, much to the chagrin of Amanda, who had instead felt the keen need to become my transfiguration partner. Whoever understood kids was a godly being, I reckoned.

"It's Fera Verto, Shade," Hermione grumbled. "Fera. Verto. Fai-ruh Fair-toh."

I looked at Hermione with a puzzled expression. "Fairuh Fairtoh? What kind of spell is Fairuh Fairtoh? The professor said Vera Verto."

"She said Fairuh Fairtoh," Hermione stressed. "The correct pronunciation is that one."

Amanda huffed, "Just let him say what he wants," she said. "I'm looking forward to it." She was wearing a pair of goggles, the kind Quidditch players wore. She did deftly pull them away whenever McGonagall glanced in our direction though, which didn't make the entire thing safer, nor make me feel optimistic about her reasoning for aiding me. Out of the duo, I implicitly trusted Hermione to seek the well-being of the poor bird that was now standing in front of me, unaware of the cruel fate he'd been sentenced to if things went wrong.

"Fairuh Fairtoh," I spoke, touching the sides of the bird. With a twinkling and a click, a satisfying grey mist transformed the bird into a flawless crystal glass.

It glittered like morning dew, and there were gems studded alongside its edges, carved from the colors of the bird's beak and plumage. It was a breath-taking glass, if I could say so myself.

"Pronunciation is key," Hermione said, vividly satisfied.

Amanda pouted from the sides, huffing. "Spoilsport."

I looked at the glass cup, and then at my wand. It had worked, and without future deaths. Interesting.

I always did suck at pronunciation. Someone once told me that I spoke like a German Tourist that had mastered the French Accent, while at the same time being an Italian. Thus, clearly, it took someone else pointing it out for me to realize just how acutely this could be a problem.

I tapped the glass' sides, pronounced the counter-charm and the bird reverted back. "Fairuh Fairoth," I said once more, and there the bird returned to being a flawless cup.

"Excellent work, Miss Granger, Mister Umbrus. Five points for each of your houses," professor McGonagall said, a stern, but slightly mollified expression on her face. With a look of pride, Hermione flipped open her own transfiguration book to read further ahead. I did pretty much the same, and Amanda instead huffed.

"Can't you just make it blow up?" she whispered.

"Later by the lakeside," I said in answer in a hushed whisper, "I need to learn how to transfigure this year's Christmas gifts."

Amanda's eyes sparkled. They had no right to sparkle. Why were they sparkling with joy?

But then again, it reminded me of my foolish, foolhardy youth spent throwing myself head first into the crashing waves of my hometown's beaches. As a kid, I'd love to roll and nearly drown while swinging in a washing-machine-like state, pulled by the waves against the sand, the rocks, and then landing with a hurray safely on the beach.

Years later, I'd still have rocks and sand bits dropping off my back every now and then.

Thus I could understand the general elation at liking things go boom, or wanting to feel the wind on your face, or so forth, but at the same time... "Weren't you meant to go pester the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain for a spot in the team?" I asked her as the four of us, the group of shadows unbound by the main quest, gathered by the lakeside. It was slightly cold, but not overtly so. Even if it did become cold, I could just summon forth an Incendio at the tip of my wand and have it burn some rocks nearby.

I had a large loaf of bread in my hands, and glanced at the surface of the lake.

"They'll have their tryouts later in October," Amanda answered. "I'm going to try and get in as a Chaser."

"Good luck with that," Megan said, stretching a quilted plaid on the ground near the lake. "This year, I came prepared," she said amiably, plopping down on the plaid with a book in her hands. It was one of Gilderoy Lockhart's books, "Isn't professor Lockhart dreamy?" she whispered, grinning like a mad loon at the cover of the book, where Lockhart in question was winking back at her.

"We haven't had him yet," I answered, shuddering ever so slightly.

"You'll be fine, Shade," Wayne said as he took a seat on the plaid too, "The professor's a bit quirky, but he's been a Ravenclaw."

"Are you implying that being a Ravenclaw guarantees some quirky factor in behavior?" I remarked, before catching the attention of a peculiarly big ripple. "Squiddie!" I yelled in the direction of the ripple, waving furiously the bread loaf in my hands, "Hey Squiddie! Look! I brought you bread!" I threw the loaf in the direction of the ripples, where it fell with a sordid plop and was quickly grabbed by a ludicrously big tentacle. "I'll bring you more later, but I need some fish now!"

As if on cue, a tentacle slammed against the surface of the lake, ripples of water bringing to the surface a few wide-eyed fishes, which I quickly caught with an Accio spell.

Wayne looked at me with an incredibly smug expression, and thus I looked back at him.

"What. It works," I stressed it out, lifting the basket of fishes. "You haven't heard what lies in the forbidden forest, Wayne. If you had, you'd get yourself a sword too."

I grabbed hold of a fish, and tapped its sides. With ease, the practiced spell transformed it into a gleaming, metallic sword.

I then planted the sword on the ground with a huff, the weight quite something for my twelve year old frame.

"You're going to poke someone's eye out with that, Shade," Megan said.

I nervously began to swing it on the river side, huffing and puffing every now and then.

Amanda...

...why are you sitting nearer to the swings? It was a cute quirk the first few times, but now you're really starting to worry me. I'm swinging a sword, Amanda. Is that why we're friends? Because I do have an unfortunate ability of making friends with utterly weird people, but Amanda, if that's the case, know that I'm not judging you, or your strange lack of restraint in seeking ever greater risks to your life.

I am merely trying to avoid going to prison. We wizards only have Azkaban, and I wouldn't want to end up there, not even for a week.

So steer clear of my blade, young girl.

Go juggle with your own blades if you want to feel the thrill of beheadment!