Blood Sings to Blood
Chapter 11 – Monday, September 2nd, 1991
Lady Sage took this as a perfect opportunity to showcase her Craft. Popping up to three feet above the ground, she wagged her tail enthusiastically. *I am kindred. I know my Craft. I will help take you all walkies so that you may be trained!*
There were many shocked gasps, a couple screams, from the older years—though there were a good half-dozen who had to hastily explain what was so exciting to their companions—while most of the first, second, and third year lit up like Yule had come early. "She can talk!" several exclaimed, delighted.
*I talk! But only to my special humans.* Her tail wagged harder. *Severus is my special human and he belongs to me. You belong to Severus. So I will talk to you too. Are you sleepy? I am sleepy. It is sleep time. I will not bite or nip, if you sleep too much. This time.* Her lips lifted in a snarl that was also cooed over, in spite of her seriousness.
Haedrian didn't disabuse his Housemates of their assumptions. Sage could take care of herself. And the humans would be disabused of their own notions quickly enough.
The Slytherin dorms were divided by gender and then further into two students per room. Haedrian's roommate turned out to be Blaise Zabini. Haedrian exchanged a polite nod to the other boy, who seemed to be decidedly wary after Snape's speech regarding behavior toward the newcomers, then turned his attention to what was to be 'his' side of the room.
Haedrian eyed the four-poster bed hung with thick dark-green curtains. He was trying to gauge the size. More specifically, if it was big enough to hold both himself and Kaelaski. It took less than half a second to conclude that it really, really, really wasn't. Kaelaski, still a kitten, was a little over 600 pounds at his last weigh-in. There was no way both of them could fit on the double bed.
He bit his lip. *What do you want to do?* he asked the cat. This was one situation he hadn't thought about. Of all the various scenarios and contingency plans that had been drilled into his head, this hadn't been a consideration.
A distinct air of amusement came through their link. *You will sleep with me.*
*Where?* They had been inseparable since that long-ago fateful day when little Haedrian had climbed on Kaelaski's back, which included sleeping in the same bed. (It wasn't that unusual. Kaelas slept with his parents in their bed.)
*Grab the coverings.* Kaelaski moved down from the position he had kept above Haedrian's head the entire day via air-walking, circling a place beside the bed. A large, thick area rug, in another shade of green, cushioned the floor perfectly. With a nudge of his paw, Kaelaski placed a warming spell and then settled down, curving his body to fit between the wall and the bed.
Haedrian obediently took the thick comforter (again green), wrapped it around himself, and nestled between Kaelaski's outstretched limbs. *Grandpapa said to shield.* Haedrian reminded, peeking around the bedframe to see that his roommate had already closed his bed curtains and was presumably sleeping. It had been a long day after all. He gave a great yawn.
Since Kaelaski's Green Jewel was darker than Haedrian's own, it was his right to provide the wards around their half of the room, the bed, and their sleeping spot. When the cat was finished laying shields he lay his massive head to the floor, snuffing in amusement when he spotted his charge's gentle breathing, already asleep.
"Bloody hell!"
The loud shout woke Haedrian instantly. In fluid movements, Haedrian Called in his bladed stick, got to his feet and settled to face his attacker. Uncle Lucivar's training and Warlord Prince instincts pulled the Blood-male from sleep to deadly wakefulness in less time it took for Blaise to finish his exclamation. Kaelaski, trained in synch with Haedrian, was sight-shielded and poised to pounce in even less time.
The other eleven-year-old's face drained of color, eyes wide in terror. He hadn't thought about what his shout would cause. He'd been surprised to see a snow-white cat with silver stripes, larger than the bed it was laying beside. It had been an honest reaction. Now he stood frozen, the center of all that deadly attention. He didn't dare breathe or twitch.
It took a solid three seconds for awareness to flood the black-haired boy. When it did, he blinked and his weapon vanished. Both boys continued to stare at each other until Haedrian broke the silence. "It's not smart to startle us awake."
"I got that." Blaise squeaked. He swallowed and eased backwards. Before he exited, he had to ask, "Does anyone know you brought…that?"
Avada-Kedavra green eyes narrowed. "His, name is Kaelaski. He's my best friend."
The other boy noted the stress of pronoun and registered the warning. Still, he pressed the issue. "But does Professor Snape know he's here?"
Haedrian shrugged and began to rummage through his clothes. "The letter said I could bring a cat."
A sound. "Meep." Hurried retreating footsteps.
Followed by the Arcerian version of laughter.
Sage had taken it upon herself to wake the late-sleepers with a Craft-enhanced barking session. *It is wake time! Come get ready for walkies to find food!*
By the time the collie was beginning to herd them out the portrait hole, the entire House was not only awake but alert. The novelty of the event had even the usually more lay-about students up and ready for breakfast in plenty of time. The few more well-known for having to skip breakfast because of their tendency to roll over for "just another ten minutes" were amazed. However, they doubted their new early-to-rise nature would last long.
Haedrian inwardly grinned at the comments he overheard. No need to disabuse them of their fantasies. They'd figure out how a Sceltie alarm worked soon enough. He fought not to laugh aloud at Sage's growled, *You are not herding properly! Stubborn sheep.* to the stragglers.
However, his amusement faded quickly with the whispers that followed him the moment the Slytherins neared the main corridors. People lined up outside classrooms, some even standing on tiptoe to get a look at him. Several doubled-back to pass him again, staring. It started in the Great Hall for breakfast.
"Prince Angelline, your schedule." Snape handed him a parchment paper. "Prince SaDiablo wanted me to inform you that your extra lessons will be postponed until the second week of classes." Haedrian nodded, having already been told. The first week was to get used to all the weirdness of the new environment. "Mr. Zabini explained there was an altercation this morning. Perhaps it would be best for you to room alone." Haedrian nodded his acquiescence. "Is there anything else you might require?"
"Can we get a bigger bed? I'm used to sleeping with Kaelaski."
Snape stared at him, obviously wanting to ask. Instead, he said, "I'll make arrangements with the elves." He almost turned to go but paused. "If anyone complains, please direct them to me."
"Thank you, Prince." Haedrian inclined his head respectfully. Then he studied his schedule.
Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday
W. Drills w/Lucivar W. Drills W. Drills W. Drills w/Lucivar W. Drills
Potions History of Magic Potions DADA Potions
Herbology Transfiguration DADA History of Magic Potions
Lunch Lunch Lunch Lunch Lunch
Charms Charms Transfig Herbology DADA
Transfiguration Herbology Transfig Charms Charms
Protocol Craft Flying B. History Business
Astronomy midnt
"Wow, Angelline. Why's your schedule so full? You're only a Firstie!" A fifth year sitting beside him asked curiously. The first years' schedules were deliberately light, to help the children get used to the new setting. It was also why first years' weren't allowed to try out for any Quidditch teams.
Haedrian tilted the paper to show the other and pointed. "These are classes I'd get at home. Hogwarts doesn't offer them."
"Oh, that makes sense." The older boy continued to study the paper. "I don't know what these mean."
"Weapon's drills. Blood history." Haedrian pointed to each in turn.
At the word 'weapon', the fifth year had momentarily frozen. The gossip mill had already spread the word about the morning's antics like wildfire throughout the entire House. However, when Haedrian didn't pause at all, saying it more matter-of-factly, he relaxed. "What are Craft and Protocol?"
"What you call 'magic', I call 'craft'. It's part of why Grandpapa is the assistant librarian. We know that there are differences in the two. He's trying to iron out exactly what they are." Haedrian said. "Protocol is harder to explain. Blood interactions are extremely dependent upon who is the ranking dominant in any given situation. Dominance is governed by Jewel rank, profession, caste, and gender. Protocol is the technique used to navigate those interactions with as little bloodshed as possible."
A sixth year female joined the conversation. "You said the word 'blood' three times but in two distinct contexts. Can you explain further?"
"Blood society is complicated," he said with a slight note of apology. "My training started at age seven and will continue until my majority. My family has been trying to explain it to Prince Severus - Professor Snape - for the last month and he's still only beginning to pick up things. It's why he gave that speech last night. Blood is not just our society and culture, but our purpose. The reason we exist. It is a large responsibility."
Another female further down the table piped up, "It sounds a little like how the Wizarding Houses function and interact." She'd been paying more attention to the beginning of the conversation and trying to draw parallels to what she already knew. "Etiquette and social graces dictating what you can do and say to others based on who's already in the room. Politics."
Haedrian looked at her, intrigued. "Would you be willing to explain that to Grandpapa and I?"
"Sure, but I don't know if I'm right. You haven't said much. It's just what first came to mind in conjunction with Professor Snape's comments last night."
"That's alright. Any new information concerning your customs would be welcome," he assured her.
"I think that's enough for this morning." The Head Boy stated. "Let Angelline eat."
Haedrian nodded his thanks and began to do exactly that. After he'd eaten his fill however, he turned to those nearest. "May I ask you something in regards to your speech?"
They blinked at him. "Yes?"
"Why do people keep referring to me as either 'Haedrian' or 'Angelline', without either title or honorific?" It had been bothering him since the day before. Adding an irritant grain with every recurrence.
The female who had promised explaining Wizarding Houses was the one to answer. "It's a combination of several things. The largest being our ages and the setting. School is generally considered neutral territory and informal. For example, my name is Grace Rockford. In a formal setting, I'd be addressed as Heir Apparent Rockford, since I'm the oldest child of my father, who's the Head of the Noble House of Rockford. In a slightly less formal setting but still among those of higher rank than myself, I might be called Lady Rockford. Those in my employ might also call me Lady Rockford, Mistress Rockford, or Mistress Grace depending upon our level of familiarity. In an informal setting with people I'm unfamiliar with, I'd be addressed as either Miss Rockford or Rockford, which is also considered the loosest level of formality. The only ones who should be calling me Grace are those I've specifically given permission and only in an informal, casual setting."
He absorbed this, nodding along with each iteration. It was similar to how different people would view his father and Saetan. Depending upon what they were doing and who they were talking to changed how they were addressed. This culture just had different (and more) titles than the Blood. However, that didn't answer why so many were being so informal with his own name if they were as strict as the Blood on the subject. "What would happen if someone you didn't know called you Grace?"
She gestured. "It would depend a lot on the situation and who had said it. It is considered very rude. However, the one that addressed me so may not understand. That's called a social faux pas. Unintentional rudeness."
"And if it's not unintentional?"
Several students grimaced along with Grace. "Then it depends on even more conditions. More politics are involved. It gets pretty complicated for intentional rudeness."
He contemplated that for long enough that several new conversations started within his hearing range. He wasn't paying attention, lost in his own thoughts, until the prefects got up and began to escort the first years to Potions.
As they went, the older pair began to explain how interesting the castle could be for navigation purposes. All of the staircases moved. Some had vanishing steps or only went to certain places at specific times. Some doors wouldn't open unless you asked politely or weren't doors at all, but solid walls charmed to pretend. The walls were covered with moving, interactive portraits; conversing with not just the students but also each other, within whose portraits they could traverse at will.
Haedrian was making mental notes as fast as he could. This was the best set of security precautions he'd seen that didn't involve actual shields. Uncle Lucivar would be thrilled to have new ideas!
Potions
Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons, only a couple corridors away from the entrance to their common room. The classroom was a bit colder than the hallway, Haedrian assumed that it was to keep the ingredients stored optimally. Many of said ingredients lined the top of all four walls, pickled in glass jars or framed, all with clear, neat labels. Examples of certain common or dangerous ingredients perhaps?
The classroom was arranged in two rows of thick, solid tables - that Haedrian privately thought would hold Kaelaski's weight even without Craft reinforcement – effectively dividing the room in half. Two stools were placed behind each table. Two walls held waist-high bookshelves, all of which were full to bursting. Atop those shelves a few cauldrons were sitting, three of which already held simmering potions. The front of the class was more crowded. Two different doors than the one by which they'd entered, along with an even larger, more solid, desk than the students' was sitting perpendicular to the two rows. Lastly, sitting at almost 45 degrees to the corner in which it was positioned, was a large blackboard stating: POTIONS – YEAR ONE.
Though the Slytherins all came in together, it was interesting to Haedrian that the few Gryffindors already seated had only done so on the right side of the room. It wasn't as odd to him that his housemates claimed the other side, given the speech about presenting a united front the night before. He was surprised though at the Gryffindors. Were they given a speech about not trusting Slytherins? If not, then why were they already segregating themselves? Or was he reading too much into this?
Haedrian ended up seated beside Draco. (Part of the Warlord Prince noted with amusement that his former roommate had taken the seat furthest from Haedrian.)
At the stroke of the last bell signaling the start of classes, one of the opposite doors opened briefly so that Professor Snape could sweep into the classroom dramatically. He was dressed in an all-black over-robe that had no sleeves. Considering the temperature of the room, the robe was to keep him as warm as possible while a lack of sleeves meant less to get in his way as he worked. (Haedrian quickly made a sketch at the top of his page to send off to Catherine at Twilfitt and Tatting's.)
Severus began by taking roll, marking each student as they answered. Once that was finished, he looked up. His eyes were the same black that Haedrian had come to know, but they were far colder than usual, practically glaring at them. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke barely over a whisper, but they caught every word easily. It helped that students didn't seem to dare to even shift in their seat, intimidated by his penetrating eyes. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
Nothing broke the silence following his speech. Students exchanged looks varying from fear to incredulity to anticipation. Only a couple looked bored.
"Mr. Weasley!" Snape suddenly barked. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
The redhead, one of those who had looked bored, jolted to attention. "Uhhh…I dunno."
Snape's glare intensified a bit more at the rudeness. "Let's try that again. Mr. Weasley, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
Ron's face darkened with anger as he understood that he was being called out on purpose. "Dunno."
Snape's eyes narrowed even further, almost slits. "Mister Weasley," he grit out, "in this class I expect all students to be courteous and respectful, or I will give you detention until you learn how to be polite. Now — try that again."
The boy's angry glare wasn't as intense as the teacher's, but it was obvious he was trying. "I don't know, sir." The last word was said as if it were an expletive.
"Thank you." Those black eyes kept with Weasley for several moments longer until the boy looked away. Then Professor Snape focused back to the other students. "What is the difference, Prince Angelline, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
Haedrian bit his lip, thinking back. He'd read ahead several chapters in all his textbooks, but there were a good many of them, and all new information. He'd only wanted a general idea of what to expect, he hadn't tried to memorize. "I know both are essentially the same plant. One is gathered at midnight on a full moon and the other is not. However, I cannot recall which is which, sir."
"Wolfsbane is gathered at midnight on the full moon. It is the main active ingredient in the Wolfsbane Potion, which helps werewolves keep their human mind during transformation." The professor nodded. "Mr. Thomas, where might I look for a bezoar?"
The Gryffindor's wide eyes could be called comical if there weren't so much fear in them. "Sir, I don't know, sir."
"One 'sir' is plenty, Mr. Thomas." Snape's eyes moved to the Slytherin side of the room again. "Miss Parkinson, perhaps you'd like to tell me where to find a bezoar?"
"In the stomach of a goat, Professor. It's one of the few known cures for almost any poison."
He nodded again in praise at her prompt reply. Then focused on the Gryffindors again. "Miss Brown, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
The girl sitting in the last desk at the back of the room had been the only Gryffindor to see the pattern of his questions and hurried to get out the two potions' texts from her bag. She'd been quietly flipping through pages, trying to find the answer to the question she knew was coming. She'd been planning on whispering the answer to whomever was called upon, and was surprised when it was herself. "They make a sleeping potion known as the Draught of Living Death, Professor."
"Miss Brown, I would like to call attention to your performance so far, if I may without embarrassing you overly." He actually waited for her hesitant nod of agreement before continuing. He looked at the entire class critically. "Miss Brown was the only one of you to recognize that while she may not currently know the answer to my questions, she did know where she might find them and proceeded to actively search. She has demonstrated critical thinking and the ability to problem solve effectively.
"These are skills that you will hopefully develop, for you will need them. Not just as students of this class, but as you grow into adults." He crossed his arms and eyed them. "I am aware that my class is your first and you may not know of how to effectively prepare." He flicked his wand at the blackboard and writing began to appear, echoing his words. "Before any class, you should ensure to read a chapter ahead and review any notes that you took the previous session. Do a final look-over of any homework assignments to be turned in, checking for spelling and grammar.
"During a class session, you will be expected to be in your seat, ready to take notes as soon as the bell finishes ringing. Anything your professors say repeatedly, I guarantee you, is highly likely to appear on a quiz or test. Anything your professors write, you should copy, adding details as needed throughout the lecture.
"Directly after a class, you should go over the notes you took, adding any details you may have missed the first time. Then, begin any homework assignments the same night as they were given, for the relevant information to complete them will never be fresher in your memory.
"If you have a question or become frustrated, you should ask for assistance. Either from your fellow classmates, House mates, or your professors. Each of your instructors has a list of hours posted in their classroom, detailing when they can be located in their office for just such an occasion. Your Head of House also has a separate set of hours for further assistance on any topic, not just their own subject material. We are here to help you."
His glare was back, directed at Ronald Weasley. "Be aware that magic—all magic—is extremely dangerous. If you behave irresponsibly in any manner, you will be quickly disabused of the notion. You show respect to your professors because we will be doing our best to make sure that you survive your time here. Am I understood?"
They all nodded in unison.
"Excellent. I have never had a student die in my class and I would like to keep that record. The previous potions professor here lost nine students. It is normal for between five and twenty students to die in potions class alone, worldwide." He held their gazes for a long minute in which no one even twitched. Finally, he gave a last nod and turned. "We will begin by learning the different ways in which to cut ingredients. There are many different ways in which to do so. You may see examples of each on page 15 of your text." He gestured with his wand and bowls appeared between pairs of students. "For the rest of class, you are to practice each type of cut with the apples I've given you. This is an essential skill you require for Potions and will be used immediately. I will be moving around the room, helping you as I see is required." He paused, eyeing the motionless children. He raised an eyebrow. "Well?"
They moved.
About three fourths of the class began by copying down the blackboard, making notations on what they remembered from Severus' speech, just as he had instructed, then begin practicing their cuts. As promised, he made rounds through the classroom, pausing to make comments here and there. In contrast to his foreboding demeanor during his introductory speech, the way he spoke individually to students was decidedly lighter. Though the man would never be called 'kind', he was not unkind either. Rather, speaking with a low, encouraging firmness as he offered corrections.
Haedrian thought he might like this class.
Herbology
The second lesson of the day was Herbology. Again, a prefect came – this one a fifth year girl – to escort the Slytherins to the greenhouses behind the castle. She took the time to explain which staircases could be used on which day of the week as well as what to avoid on their journey. They were met in the Great Hall by the first year Ravenclaws, also being escorted by an older year.
Haedrian noticed that these eleven year olds, though wary and nervous, weren't nearly as openly hostile as some of the Gryffindors had been during Potions.
A dumpy woman was leaning over to weed a raised plot of dirt, her back to them as they approached. When she straightened to face them, they also saw that she was as short as themselves. "Hello students," she called.
"Hello, professor," they answered dutifully.
She smiled as she introduced herself. "I am Pomona Sprout, your Herbology Professor as well as the Head of Hufflepuff House. Now, as it is the first week, we will be working in Greenhouse One." She pointed to the number 1 written in three-foot-tall black paint. "The greenhouses are numbered according to how dangerous the plants they house. The higher the number, the more likely you are to find yourself on the menu." Though her voice was kind, it was also clear from her tone that she was perfectly serious. "There are ten greenhouses in total. We will only be working in Greenhouse One and Two this year."
She flicked her wand and suddenly flitters of parchment zoomed from a previously un-noticed pile, settling to hover in front of each student until they took it. "Now, I want to warn you all that our Herbology class sessions are primarily practical, since you are not allowed to move your assigned plants out of the greenhouses. It will be your responsibility to read your text, as the schedule I gave you indicates, and ask me any questions you come across as soon as you have them. If no one asks me questions, I will assume you all understand perfectly and are ready to begin the practical side of the chapter reading." Her smile was still kind and gentle, and her words still held enough steel to impart her warning effectively. "Now, let's get inside the greenhouse and I will help orient you—"
The wind shifted, bringing her psychic scent to Haedrian and the boy froze. Queen!
It had been shock that held him for so long. Looking back on the last hour, Haedrian blushed with embarrassment. He'd been warned that McGonagall was a Queen, but he hadn't expected to meet another. However, once he thought about it for longer than a few minutes, he should have. This was the only school for several Territories. It made perfect sense that even the higher castes would be in larger quantity here. And since Queens were bred to rule, having a high position of authority, like McGonagall as Deputy Headmistress, also made sense.
Yet there was another trait most Queens – at least all the good Queens he'd ever met – also held in common: they had a feel for the land. They were naturally drawn to it; tended it, loved it, cultivated it. Thus, the Professor of Herbology—a subject devoted to caring for magical plants—who was also a Head of House—a position devoted to caring for a group of people—being a Queen—the caste born to rule and nurture—made perfect sense.
This Realm may not have records of their history, their real history, but some part of them still remembered their heritage and responsibility as Blood.
Haedrian smiled at the older woman happily.
Charms
Lunch was uneventful, thankfully, other than the constant whispers from the other students. Haedrian thought he'd give them all two days to get over whatever preconceived notions they may have before he began to…express his annoyance more forcefully.
The Charms classroom was set up in a large half circle of tables with the professor's desk in the center and a giant blackboard on the wall behind. Professor Flitwick was a tiny little wizard who stood on a pile of books in order to see all of his students at the same time.
The abuse of the literature made Haedrian shiver. He sincerely hoped that the stack was only an illusion of books instead of real ones. Well, now he knew a good way to redirect Geoffrey's attention the next time the Keep Librarian tried to bustle him off to bed.
When the teacher, who also called roll, got to Haedrian's name, he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight. Haedrian sighed.
Once the professor had calmed down, he seemed to think they could begin to practice wand-waving immediately. He used the blackboard to draw symbolic representations of the movements required for their first charm: Levitation.
Haedrian listened intently to the explanation of what the spell did, how to perform it, and then tilted his head in confusion when the teacher emphasized pronunciation. As all the professors before him, Flitwick explained how an incorrect pronunciation could result in unknown, dangerous results. He even went on to tell a story of one wizard who pronounced the Levitation spell so badly that he ended up turning half his front lawn into pigeons.
At this point Haedrian couldn't help himself. He raised his hand.
Professor Flitwick squeaked in surprise at the sudden movement, "Yes, Prince Angelline?"
"Sir, why do you need to pronounce anything?"
It was the teacher's turn to blink in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Why do you need to say anything? Is it because this is a beginner course and it's is meant to be a focusing tool, like the wands? Or can wizards not perform the Levitation Charm any other way?"
This time the man understood. His eyebrows went up in surprise. "Are you saying you have the ability to perform this charm wordlessly, Prince Angelline?"
Instead of responding verbally, Haedrian flicked his eyes to the stack of poor trod-upon books and used Craft to make the first three in the stack float up, travel around the room once, before settling themselves back down.
Flitwick was ecstatic, clapping his hands together happily and jumping up and down on his toes. "And wandless as well! Excellently achieved! Very well done! Especially for someone of your age." His grin was full of teeth. "To answer your question, the words are indeed used as a focusing tool. As you grow, you will hit your magical maturity between the ages of 15 and 21, at which point wordless magic becomes much easier to cast.
"The Levitation Charm is a common, basic charm that is the core-element for many more advanced, specific spells. Such as the runic charm that make memos fly to specific targets whom may be on different floors of a building. Levitation is one of the few charms that almost every witch or wizard can eventually cast wordlessly, though most are not able to cast it wandlessly as you demonstrated."
"Where'd you learn how to do that?" Tracey Davis asked in an almost reverent tone.
Haedrian looked at his fellow students and saw that most of them were looking at him with either a bit of fear, amazement, or admiration. He didn't quite know how to react. Being the center of attention for being his mother's son (or the High Lord's grandson, or Daemon Sadi's son, or Lucivar Yaslana's nephew, etc.) was something he was used to, though didn't particularly enjoy. This time however, he was the center of attention for something he had done. It made him distinctly uncomfortable. "I've been taking Craft lessons since my Birthright Ceremony. Calling an object is the first spell we're taught."
"What's a Birthright Ceremony?"
"How old were you?"
"What do you mean 'call'?"
Flitwick's wand let out a loud explosive sound to halt the cacophony of questions. "Now, now class! Don't crowd the lad. It's rude." Those that had been asking blushed at the slight rebuke and he regained order with no further interruption.
When the bell rang to signal the end of the lesson, he called, "Prince Angelline, a moment." He smiled at the boy. "You're not in trouble, lad. I would love to make a time we can speak on your training and abilities in private. That way, perhaps you won't be so bored in class as you were today." His eyes twinkled with excitement with thoughts of the future. Those twinkles were genuine in a way that Dumbledore's had never been nor would ever be.
Haedrian half-smiled. He didn't really like the presumed familiarity of 'lad', but he'd heard the man call nearly every student 'lad' or 'lass' the entire lesson and didn't take it personally. Much. It was even more offset by the obvious enthusiasm the small wizard held for teaching and his subject. "I'd be happy to speak with you, professor. If you speak with my grandfather, he can better give you an absolute time around my additional lessons. Or you could sit in on my lessons if you are interested."
His classmates waited for him in the hallway when he exited, and they made their way down more corridors and staircases to reach their next destination.
Transfiguration
Professor McGonagall was again different. Haedrian was reminded of how strict she came across. "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."
Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and wanted to get started immediately. Soon however, they realized that they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long, long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle.
Or they were…until Haedrian raised his hand.
The entire class stopped.
McGonagall blinked at the odd spectacle. "Yes, Prince Angelline?"
"Lady McGonagall, is Transfiguration illusion magic?"
"Not at all. Illusions are defined as spells that conceal, but do not change, a person or object. A common type of illusion spell would be glamours. If you touched a glamoured individual, you would be able to feel the real surface even though you could not see it. Transfiguration is the actual changing of a person or object. The permeance of a transfiguration spell depends upon its caster; age, magical maturity, and practice."
Haedrian swallowed, mouth suddenly a little dry. "Could you permanently change an object or person? Forever?"
Her expression was neutral as she looked at him, observing his reaction. "It would depend upon the type. Inanimate to inanimate would not be too difficult to make permanent, though that would vary upon the materials being altered, as well as the size and age of the object. Runic Transfiguration does this most effectively. Animate to inanimate is extremely difficult, but not impossible, to render permanent, while inanimate to animate is considered impossible. To change anything animate permanently, Potions would be the only option. What's going through your mind, Prince Angelline?" she asked in the same volume and tone.
The entire class watched him, waiting for his response.
They could see the fear in his eyes. His face was a pale ashen shade. He looked ill. When he did answer, it was a quiet whisper. "I—I don't think Mother can do that."
So, I'm making up for lost time. Know something insanely difficult to do with a broken wrist? Type!
Thanks so much for your comments, they certainly kept my fingers flying!