Glass Houses, Part Six - In the Sand
Author's Notes: Sorry this one took so long; I was having major trouble finding a title. This chapter contains my first attempt at a pun in Italian; "Morfosi" is part of the Italian word for "metamorphosis" and that seemed apt for a Transfiguration teacher. Wacth future chapters for a familiar character from another one of my stories. Here we have another Angsty Monologue from Orélie, and the first class of the year. Enjoy.
Chapter Title: "How're you gonna fight this lying facedown in the sand?" -- The Gin Blossoms
--
Thank goodness I forgot my books - I don't think I could have handled talking to Somerset any longer. It was easier last night at dinner, when there were four of us, but I just can't seem to handle extended periods of one-on-one social interaction. I wonder why. Maybe I'm scared that I'll do something wrong, like… well, like get pastry all over someone's robes. I'll have to find out when his birthday is so I can get him a new set. What did he say his favorite color was? Blue? Can't go wrong with blue. I'll make myself a mental note.
I feel so ridiculous for getting nervous about talking to him, and other people for that matter. I know I can hold my own in an argument if it comes to that, so why am I afraid? It's conversation that worries me, not confrontation. Why? Especially Somerset! He wouldn't hurt a fly, or at least not a fly that didn't hurt him first. I've got to admit he impressed me with the Silvia incident; I was so sure he would just be calm and quiet. But he gave her just what he deserved. He… stood up for me. Somebody stood up for me.
Well, I won't let myself get used to it. Besides, he probably just feels pressured to help everyone. It wasn't about me; it was about principles. I should be happy to know that there are still people with those. Really, he's almost too moral. He'll probably go insane one day and try to take over the world, and I bet I'll be the first one he blasts out of his path. That's what comes of taking up with "nice" people; witness the Pierre incident. Nobody's as good as they seem, except maybe people like Silvia who just can't get any worse than the first impression. I should avoid her or I'll end up getting into trouble per usual.
Where's that stupid shortcut? I must have passed it… why'd the architect make it so darn inconspicuous? So people who weren't supposed to know about it wouldn't notice it, obviously. Oh shut up. The last thing I need is my own brain critiquing me. There it is. Let's see, seven tiles down from that big hallway. I think I can remember that. Now let's hope that I don't have any trouble using my ring to get in; there's no Somerset around to help me and I have no idea where Galina and Carmela and Luis are. I mustn't rely on them. After all, I pride myself on learning from my mistakes.
Let's see now… deep breath. D'accordo, hand against the wall - yes! Ciel, that moment when it turns to smoke is strange. I can almost feel it dematerializing around my hand. What would it be like, to evaporate like that? And why doesn't it just mix with the air? Must be an awfully complex charm. I wonder if I'll ever learn to do it. There's someone else in here, at least one person; I can hear breathing. I'll just poke my head around, oh so quietly… it's that Atlantis girl, and some boy who looks like he's around my age. I don't want them to see me. Silence, move in silence. One shoe against the floor, then shift my weight, then move the other foot - walking is so complicated. Almost at the hallway now. Breathe slowly - no, not so loud, not so shaky. Just natural...
Oh drat, she's spotted me. I'll pretend I don't hear. Just close the door. And through the hallway, into - oh where's my room? Here. Safe at last, or as safe as anyone can ever be in this world - which means not very. I'm so glad we have our own rooms here. Galina and Carmela are nice, or at least they seem nice, but it's so much pressure, being with other people. This way I don't have to… where's my valise? I see the small one, and one of the big ones, but where's the other one? I just know there was a mix-up and they sent it to someone else's room, probably that horrible Silvia, and right now she's laughing over - oh, there it is. Why did I put it behind the bed? The workings of my own mind never cease to confuse me.
Let's see, my books are in the small one. What time is it though? I think I have time to do some unpacking, and I really should water my plants. Will they even fit on the windowsill? The smaller one might… oh, please fit… no. Stupid windowsill. If they're going to put one in, they might as well make it big enough for plants. Stupid architect, Erik whatever-his-name-is. I guess I could put them on top of the dresser; they don't needs much direct sunlight anyway. The horrible thing is so tall that I'll have to stand on tiptoe to water them. What's the watering charm again? I know I read about one… oh, I should get my wand too. Smart move, Orélie. There we go… now what is that charm? Something about water. Aquis? Oh, no, not all over the wood! Finite Incantatem! Now I have to find something to clean up the spill. I could try a charm, but after that last one I'm not even going to risk it. I'll use the hem of my cloak; it won't be cold here for a while. Oh, there isn't that much water. Good thing I stopped the spell in time.
Now I'll try again. Position wand carefully over the plant… right. Aquis! There we go. I wonder if there's a way to modify the speed and quantity of the water. Finite Incantatem. Now the next one. That wasn't so bad, except for the fact that my muscles are aching from reaching up like that. I should probably get to class now - what's the first one? Transfiguration. Then Ancient Runes, then History of Magic, which is near the Glass area anyway so I can probably stop back here in between. I just know I'll forget to unpack my dartboard if I don't do it now, though. I'm going to be late; I can feel it in my bones. Oh well, it's not like I've made a good impression anyway. Is there a nail on one of these walls? Not on that one, or that one… oh, I think I see one! The room's previous occupant must have hung a picture or something. Dartboard, um… large valise number two. Wow, it got heavy. I think I can carry it to the wall though. Ouch! Big stupid thing. If I can just lift it up to meet the nail… oof. Come on, stupid hook, catch on the nail! Oh, there, it's up. Not an ideal spot, but oh no! I'm going to be late for class!
--
Orélie rifled through her smallest valise (bright red monogram intact but for a few fraying threads) and snatched up the two required books, clutching in her other hand the map of the school that had been enclosed in the brochure. Tucking the books under her arm, she swept a few strands of hair out of her face and shoved the door to her room open with her elbow. After slipping through the doorway with the fluid movement of a wraith, she broke into an erratic jog. Her haphazard strides ate the rows of tiled floor and took her in the space of five seconds to the end of Girls' Hallway Two. She then had to pause to open the door to Glass Social Hall, causing her to drop her map and utter a muffled sob. "Get a hold of yourself," she muttered viciously as she knelt to retrieve the precious diagram.
The cluttered furniture of the Social Hall prevented running, but Orélie went so far as to jump over an ottoman, gaining panic with the realization that aside from herself, the room was empty. Once she finally reached the door - stone decorated with panes of stained glass - she increased her speed to a dead run, hard soles of her shoes clattering against the tiled floor. At the entrance to the main hallway, she gave in to the urge to lean against a cold marble wall as she hurriedly consulted the map.
"If this is the front entrance," she mumbled, barely coherent and pointing vaguely at a spot on the map, "Then I'm here - or is it here? Oh, I detest symmetry! I must be here, because I just came from there, so I should continue this way." Giving her head a split-second more of rest against the wall, chin tilted upwards and eyes closed, she pocketed the map before adjusting her heavy books and dashing down a corridor as fast as her long robes would allow.
--
The third year of Glass house filed semi-quietly into the Transfiguration classroom. The Professor, a portly middle-aged man with hair in wiry curls, surveyed them mildly from the front of the room.
"You remember how to arrange yourselves," he stated vapidly. A few of the children sighed as they all lined up in alphabetical order: Kameko, then Carmela, then Francisco, Galina, Hosni, and Luis.
"Um, Professor Morfosi?" Even confident Galina's voice showed the first-day-of-class hesitance, and she cleared her throat before continuing. "There's another of us. Orélie, from Beauxbatons." She ran a finger down the immaculate braid, still damp, that dangled past her left shoulder.
Professor Morfosi tilted his head, mildly perplexed; strands of his hair drooped like wilted plants. "I'd heard as much. So where is Oriel from Beauxbatons?" He looked accusingly at the students. "All of you are far too old for imaginary friends."
"I didn't see her this morning," admitted Galina with furrowed brow, "but I'm sure she's here. Where else could she be?"
"I heard she got in a big fight with a fourth-year this morning," Carmela supplied, multihued eyes wide. She swished her curls. "Maybe she got so upset that she locked herself in her room, or ran away!" Her hands clasped themselves together seemingly of their own accord.
Luis snorted in contempt. "Come on. That only happens in stories." Pausing momentarily, he glanced at the mirrored cover of his wristwatch. "Besides, I saw her at breakfast with some fourth year boy." At this, Kameko, Carmela and Galina exchanged a sly three-way smile. Luis noticed. "They were just talking!" he elaborated. "The point is, she was still here at breakfast."
"Well, how much do we know about her? Does she have a tendency to be late?" Hosni narrowed his eyes in concentration. "How well does she know the school building?"
"Relax, Signor Detective," Kameko laughed. Of all the students, she seemed the most carefree, unless it was a result of exhaustion. Her eyes were barely open, with her field of vision striped by her lashes, and even her hair looked tired.
"This is most intriguing," Morfosi remarked blandly, with a pair of owlish blinks. "Whatever fascinating experience has befallen Signorina Oriana," Galina bit her lower lip to keep from commenting on the error, "we mustn't waste any more class time."
A quiet rapping interrupted the Professor's speech. Morfosi raised his thin eyebrows at the student nearest the door, who happened to be Luis. With uncharacteristic obedience, the gel-haired boy strode to the doorway and turned the metal knob. "It's her," he announced disinterestedly once he saw the figure in the hallway.
"That cuts the possibilities by about half," Francisco observed, slightly amused. "Which her?"
"Me, I suppose," replied Orélie wearily as she entered the room, face flushed and hair disheveled. Shoulders hunching, she approached Professor Morfosi. "Signor? I'm Orélie Jacques, from Beauxbatons. I'm sorry for being late. I got lost." Without further ado or excuses, she turned and paced slowly to the nearest empty desk.
"Stop there," the instructor commanded mildly. "Jacques?" Orélie retraced her steps and observed that the man appeared to be biting one of his nails. "Everyone after Emmanuel move one desk over." Francisco moved over along with Galina, Hosni and Luis, leaving an empty desk between Francisco and Carmela, who apparently bore the surname Emmanuel. "Aurelia, sit between Emmanuel and Librizzi." Orélie opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it, moving silently to the empty desk instead. She stacked her textbooks at the corner of the desk in size order and crossed her ankles neatly.
"No more imaginary students?" Morfosi queried. He ignored his own question and continued. "So, Signorina… uh… Jacques, I see you're not a figment after all. Class - since we have a new student, shall I give the introductory speech from first year?"
"No," piped up Galina, Luis and Kameko in unison; the rest of the class, excluding Orélie, merely groaned.
"You aren't much fun, are you?" asked Morfosi rhetorically. "But I admire your dedication; I see none of you want to waste another moment of class time. Let's proceed straight to the lesson then." This announcement was greeted by muffled sighs and the sounds of students shifting in the attempt to find a comfortable position. "Now, who can give us a review of what we learned last year? Any volunteers?"
Francisco stood, the rubber soles of his shoes squeaking against the tiled floor. Without asking for permission, he launched in to his lecture. "Last-year-we-studied-the-rules-of-Transfiguration-and-the-principles-behind-these-rules-focusing-on-transforming-living-things-to-nonliving-and-vice-versa." He didn't take a single breath during his "review," causing the words to run together and the last phrase to be emitted in a rush of air. The class, with the exceptions of Galina, Hosni and the Professor, wore countenances of confusion.
"That'll do," remarked Morfosi, who didn't appear to be paying attention at all. "Grazie, but please request permission next time." Francisco nodded, looking oddly proud of himself, and the rest of the Glass third year bore expressions of approval. Only Orélie remained in confusion.
Carmela grinned broadly. "That was much quicker than when Morfosi did the review last year," she whispered. "Hey Francisco!" She leaned surreptitiously across Orélie's desk, causing the newer girl to jerk back. "Buono lavoro (good work)!" Francisco nodded smugly.
"Signorina Emmanuel!" Professor Morfosi, going impossibly fast for such an indolent man, arrived at Carmela's desk in a split second. "You were whispering!" he barked. A heavy sigh, and he tilted his head back as if seeking aid from the ceiling. "HOW many TIMES do I have to TELL you? You are in my classroom; you pay attention to me!" Letting his head droop floor-wards, he took a deep breath, and when he spoke again he was back to his mellow tones. "The deterioration of etiquette in today's society is truly reprehensible." Orélie almost nodded, then pretended to look for her quill instead.
The rest of the class remained wisely silent as the irate professor ambled back to his desk. There must have been a stool behind it, because he seemed to instantly grow several inches taller. "Enough fun and games," Morfosi declared indulgently. "This year, we'll start with our Variants unit. That, of course, means Transfiguring a substance into a related form, such as wood to paper." He smiled distantly at his pupils. "Though perhaps in your case, sand to glass would be more appropriate." A moment's silnce passed as he waited for the class to laugh. "Yes, well," the unfortunate Professor continued uncomfortably, "sand to glass it is. Who would like to pass out supplies? Very good, Mitzanova. Tell me when you're done."
Luis, Kameko, Hosni, Francisco and Carmela seized the opportunity to throw significant looks at each other. Orélie narrowed her eyes, drawing her light brows together, in a squinting attempt to gauge Galina's progress. Morfosi abandoned his podium to scribble something in a floppy blue notebook. Galina finished gathering metal dishes filled with sand and silently distributed them, one per desk. "Grazie," Orélie murmured, and Hosni followed suit before returning to a whispered argument with Luis. The other students were too busy making the most of their gossip session to acknowledge anything else; so it was that only Orélie noticed Galina awakening Professor Morfosi from the world of his notebook. "He's done doodling," Orélie informed her classmates, who silenced themselves just in time to escape Morfosi's notice.
The Professor returned to his unseen stool for what seemed like the hundredth time. "Buon (good)," he told the universe approvingly. "Now we can finally get on with the lesson itself. Remember, the most important part of the spell is FOCUS. FOCUS, and the rest will come," he yawned into a rapidly produced handkerchief, "eventually. Remember, the substance will liquefy is you just CONVINCE the particles to move. Take advantage of natural processes!"
The seven students looked obediently at their respective dishes, except for Kameko who was tracking the progress of a spider on the ceiling. Morfosi pulled his notebook from an invisible pocket and continued to make enthusiastic lines of ink. As Orélie had observed, it looked more like sketching than writing. After a few minutes of intense concentration, steam began to rise from a few of the dishes.
Orélie spread her sand evenly over the circular bottom of the dish, then used spiral motions to heat it. Very slowly, the grains melted into each other and became transparent - first the outer edges, the heat spreading towards the center of what was beginning to become a disk.
"Look at mine," Carmela muttered to Kameko. The placid (or tired) girl nodded approvingly at Carmela's flat piece of putty-turning-to-glass, where air bubbles popped and left spherical impressions. Kameko gestured toward her own dish. She had heated a small section, and then piled the rest of the sand on top. It melted in layers like those of a mud castle.
"Oh, molto buona (very good)!" Morfosi exclaimed, catching sight of Galina's work. He lifted it from the dish to show the class and burned his fingers slightly in the process. "She's finished already. See the PURITY, the CLARITY of the glass? PERFECTLY flat and smooth!" Carmela and Hosni nodded politely; the others were too busy with their own projects.
Orélie's glass soup had hardened to a waxy consistency. Biting her lower lip, she began to pull the edges upward with her wand. Every few seconds, she stopped and used her wand to hollow the middle of the circle, providing more edge-material.
"Refinito (finished)!" Luis declared. Gingerly, he wrapped his hand in parchment and raised his completed effort. It was a knobby lump, brown-tinted, and reflected the light at interesting angles.
Morfosi frowned. "Si… that is technically a successful transformation. Note, however, the imperfections of the piece: the irregular shape, the flawed hue."
"It might look nice hanging on someone's window," Luis pointed out, clearly unrepentant. "See how it makes rainbows?" He tilted the chunk of glass slightly, causing the aforementioned rainbows to be cast, shimmering, on Professor Morfosi's face. Morfosi hurriedly stepped away from the floating colors.
"Signorina Emmanuel, let's see how you did. Not bad; good color although your heating technique appears to have been inconsistent. You've improved since last year." Seeing that Orélie was not yet finished, he moved over to Kameko. "What's this? You can do better than this." He fixed the recalcitrant girl with a stern look. "It would seem that you rushed through it."
"Spiacente (sorry)," Kameko replied quietly, her tone properly apologetic. "My balloon arrived at around one o'clock last night - or this morning."
Morfosi immediately softened his expression. "Oh, right. I'd forgotten about that. I think I can let it pass this one time." His next steps took him three desks down, once more bypassing the still-working Orélie. "Librezzi, let's see yours." Francisco smiled slightly as he displayed his piece of glass, which was almost as smooth as Galina's but contained a few grains of sand entrapped within the disk. "I see you used your usual concentration on the minor details, but your transformation wasn't as thorough as it could have been."
"Si, Signor," Francisco acknowledged. "I'll remember for next time." Morfosi nodded in vague approval and moved on to praise Hosni's attention to reliable heating. Orélie painstakingly put the finishing touches on her project.
"And Signorina Jacques… well that's interesting." Francisco and Galina turned their heads to examine the situation. Professor Morfosi extended his hand, and Orélie passed him a small, slightly asymmetrical but very clear glass bowl. "Good heating technique, though it could be improved - this side of the bowl is thinner than the other. There doesn't seem to be any remaining sand. The bowl is nice for an impromptu piece, but don't let your creativity get in the way of the basics."
"May I keep it?" Orélie asked guardedly. One of her hands reached for the bowl of its own accord. Professor Morfosi offered no resistance. "It might be useful, you know, to put things in."
"To put things in." Morfosi's dark blue eyes took on a glazed look as he repeated the phrase. "Si… si, I suppose you may. Remember, though, that these are supplies. Try not to get so attached to them in the future." He craned his neck to look at the other students, all of whom were in varying states of distraction, and then glared inattentively at Orélie. "Oh, drat, now I have to practice the impartiality policy. Fine then," (he raised his voice), "each of you may keep one object over you make this year."
A few students - Hosni, Kameko and Galina - looked up with puzzled expressions, coming too late to the realization that the Professor had made an announcement. The remaining three students followed suit, until all seven members of the class sat attentively at their desks, wide innocent eyes awaiting further information.
"WELL then?" boomed Morfosi. "Get out. The CLASS has ENDED, children. Go ON now." This was a statement that every student could comprehend. In a mere twitch of muscles, Luis was opening the door. Francisco, Kameko, Carmela, Hosni and Orélie followed, the latter carefully carrying her glass bowl. Galina brought up the rear, haphazardly shoving the door closed behind her.
The first few steps through the hallway were taken in relative silence, footfalls mingling with mutters from neighboring corridors. It was Luis who cut through the quiet. "FINALLY, we're OUT of there--" and just as abruptly he clapped a hand over his mouth. A few seconds passed before he once more allowed himself to speak in a vicious mutter. "I hate it when that happens." Kameko laughed freely; Francisco and Orélie gave a slight smile (one each, of course). Luis merely ran a hand through his hair.
Author's Notes: Sorry this one took so long; I was having major trouble finding a title. This chapter contains my first attempt at a pun in Italian; "Morfosi" is part of the Italian word for "metamorphosis" and that seemed apt for a Transfiguration teacher. Wacth future chapters for a familiar character from another one of my stories. Here we have another Angsty Monologue from Orélie, and the first class of the year. Enjoy.
Chapter Title: "How're you gonna fight this lying facedown in the sand?" -- The Gin Blossoms
--
Thank goodness I forgot my books - I don't think I could have handled talking to Somerset any longer. It was easier last night at dinner, when there were four of us, but I just can't seem to handle extended periods of one-on-one social interaction. I wonder why. Maybe I'm scared that I'll do something wrong, like… well, like get pastry all over someone's robes. I'll have to find out when his birthday is so I can get him a new set. What did he say his favorite color was? Blue? Can't go wrong with blue. I'll make myself a mental note.
I feel so ridiculous for getting nervous about talking to him, and other people for that matter. I know I can hold my own in an argument if it comes to that, so why am I afraid? It's conversation that worries me, not confrontation. Why? Especially Somerset! He wouldn't hurt a fly, or at least not a fly that didn't hurt him first. I've got to admit he impressed me with the Silvia incident; I was so sure he would just be calm and quiet. But he gave her just what he deserved. He… stood up for me. Somebody stood up for me.
Well, I won't let myself get used to it. Besides, he probably just feels pressured to help everyone. It wasn't about me; it was about principles. I should be happy to know that there are still people with those. Really, he's almost too moral. He'll probably go insane one day and try to take over the world, and I bet I'll be the first one he blasts out of his path. That's what comes of taking up with "nice" people; witness the Pierre incident. Nobody's as good as they seem, except maybe people like Silvia who just can't get any worse than the first impression. I should avoid her or I'll end up getting into trouble per usual.
Where's that stupid shortcut? I must have passed it… why'd the architect make it so darn inconspicuous? So people who weren't supposed to know about it wouldn't notice it, obviously. Oh shut up. The last thing I need is my own brain critiquing me. There it is. Let's see, seven tiles down from that big hallway. I think I can remember that. Now let's hope that I don't have any trouble using my ring to get in; there's no Somerset around to help me and I have no idea where Galina and Carmela and Luis are. I mustn't rely on them. After all, I pride myself on learning from my mistakes.
Let's see now… deep breath. D'accordo, hand against the wall - yes! Ciel, that moment when it turns to smoke is strange. I can almost feel it dematerializing around my hand. What would it be like, to evaporate like that? And why doesn't it just mix with the air? Must be an awfully complex charm. I wonder if I'll ever learn to do it. There's someone else in here, at least one person; I can hear breathing. I'll just poke my head around, oh so quietly… it's that Atlantis girl, and some boy who looks like he's around my age. I don't want them to see me. Silence, move in silence. One shoe against the floor, then shift my weight, then move the other foot - walking is so complicated. Almost at the hallway now. Breathe slowly - no, not so loud, not so shaky. Just natural...
Oh drat, she's spotted me. I'll pretend I don't hear. Just close the door. And through the hallway, into - oh where's my room? Here. Safe at last, or as safe as anyone can ever be in this world - which means not very. I'm so glad we have our own rooms here. Galina and Carmela are nice, or at least they seem nice, but it's so much pressure, being with other people. This way I don't have to… where's my valise? I see the small one, and one of the big ones, but where's the other one? I just know there was a mix-up and they sent it to someone else's room, probably that horrible Silvia, and right now she's laughing over - oh, there it is. Why did I put it behind the bed? The workings of my own mind never cease to confuse me.
Let's see, my books are in the small one. What time is it though? I think I have time to do some unpacking, and I really should water my plants. Will they even fit on the windowsill? The smaller one might… oh, please fit… no. Stupid windowsill. If they're going to put one in, they might as well make it big enough for plants. Stupid architect, Erik whatever-his-name-is. I guess I could put them on top of the dresser; they don't needs much direct sunlight anyway. The horrible thing is so tall that I'll have to stand on tiptoe to water them. What's the watering charm again? I know I read about one… oh, I should get my wand too. Smart move, Orélie. There we go… now what is that charm? Something about water. Aquis? Oh, no, not all over the wood! Finite Incantatem! Now I have to find something to clean up the spill. I could try a charm, but after that last one I'm not even going to risk it. I'll use the hem of my cloak; it won't be cold here for a while. Oh, there isn't that much water. Good thing I stopped the spell in time.
Now I'll try again. Position wand carefully over the plant… right. Aquis! There we go. I wonder if there's a way to modify the speed and quantity of the water. Finite Incantatem. Now the next one. That wasn't so bad, except for the fact that my muscles are aching from reaching up like that. I should probably get to class now - what's the first one? Transfiguration. Then Ancient Runes, then History of Magic, which is near the Glass area anyway so I can probably stop back here in between. I just know I'll forget to unpack my dartboard if I don't do it now, though. I'm going to be late; I can feel it in my bones. Oh well, it's not like I've made a good impression anyway. Is there a nail on one of these walls? Not on that one, or that one… oh, I think I see one! The room's previous occupant must have hung a picture or something. Dartboard, um… large valise number two. Wow, it got heavy. I think I can carry it to the wall though. Ouch! Big stupid thing. If I can just lift it up to meet the nail… oof. Come on, stupid hook, catch on the nail! Oh, there, it's up. Not an ideal spot, but oh no! I'm going to be late for class!
--
Orélie rifled through her smallest valise (bright red monogram intact but for a few fraying threads) and snatched up the two required books, clutching in her other hand the map of the school that had been enclosed in the brochure. Tucking the books under her arm, she swept a few strands of hair out of her face and shoved the door to her room open with her elbow. After slipping through the doorway with the fluid movement of a wraith, she broke into an erratic jog. Her haphazard strides ate the rows of tiled floor and took her in the space of five seconds to the end of Girls' Hallway Two. She then had to pause to open the door to Glass Social Hall, causing her to drop her map and utter a muffled sob. "Get a hold of yourself," she muttered viciously as she knelt to retrieve the precious diagram.
The cluttered furniture of the Social Hall prevented running, but Orélie went so far as to jump over an ottoman, gaining panic with the realization that aside from herself, the room was empty. Once she finally reached the door - stone decorated with panes of stained glass - she increased her speed to a dead run, hard soles of her shoes clattering against the tiled floor. At the entrance to the main hallway, she gave in to the urge to lean against a cold marble wall as she hurriedly consulted the map.
"If this is the front entrance," she mumbled, barely coherent and pointing vaguely at a spot on the map, "Then I'm here - or is it here? Oh, I detest symmetry! I must be here, because I just came from there, so I should continue this way." Giving her head a split-second more of rest against the wall, chin tilted upwards and eyes closed, she pocketed the map before adjusting her heavy books and dashing down a corridor as fast as her long robes would allow.
--
The third year of Glass house filed semi-quietly into the Transfiguration classroom. The Professor, a portly middle-aged man with hair in wiry curls, surveyed them mildly from the front of the room.
"You remember how to arrange yourselves," he stated vapidly. A few of the children sighed as they all lined up in alphabetical order: Kameko, then Carmela, then Francisco, Galina, Hosni, and Luis.
"Um, Professor Morfosi?" Even confident Galina's voice showed the first-day-of-class hesitance, and she cleared her throat before continuing. "There's another of us. Orélie, from Beauxbatons." She ran a finger down the immaculate braid, still damp, that dangled past her left shoulder.
Professor Morfosi tilted his head, mildly perplexed; strands of his hair drooped like wilted plants. "I'd heard as much. So where is Oriel from Beauxbatons?" He looked accusingly at the students. "All of you are far too old for imaginary friends."
"I didn't see her this morning," admitted Galina with furrowed brow, "but I'm sure she's here. Where else could she be?"
"I heard she got in a big fight with a fourth-year this morning," Carmela supplied, multihued eyes wide. She swished her curls. "Maybe she got so upset that she locked herself in her room, or ran away!" Her hands clasped themselves together seemingly of their own accord.
Luis snorted in contempt. "Come on. That only happens in stories." Pausing momentarily, he glanced at the mirrored cover of his wristwatch. "Besides, I saw her at breakfast with some fourth year boy." At this, Kameko, Carmela and Galina exchanged a sly three-way smile. Luis noticed. "They were just talking!" he elaborated. "The point is, she was still here at breakfast."
"Well, how much do we know about her? Does she have a tendency to be late?" Hosni narrowed his eyes in concentration. "How well does she know the school building?"
"Relax, Signor Detective," Kameko laughed. Of all the students, she seemed the most carefree, unless it was a result of exhaustion. Her eyes were barely open, with her field of vision striped by her lashes, and even her hair looked tired.
"This is most intriguing," Morfosi remarked blandly, with a pair of owlish blinks. "Whatever fascinating experience has befallen Signorina Oriana," Galina bit her lower lip to keep from commenting on the error, "we mustn't waste any more class time."
A quiet rapping interrupted the Professor's speech. Morfosi raised his thin eyebrows at the student nearest the door, who happened to be Luis. With uncharacteristic obedience, the gel-haired boy strode to the doorway and turned the metal knob. "It's her," he announced disinterestedly once he saw the figure in the hallway.
"That cuts the possibilities by about half," Francisco observed, slightly amused. "Which her?"
"Me, I suppose," replied Orélie wearily as she entered the room, face flushed and hair disheveled. Shoulders hunching, she approached Professor Morfosi. "Signor? I'm Orélie Jacques, from Beauxbatons. I'm sorry for being late. I got lost." Without further ado or excuses, she turned and paced slowly to the nearest empty desk.
"Stop there," the instructor commanded mildly. "Jacques?" Orélie retraced her steps and observed that the man appeared to be biting one of his nails. "Everyone after Emmanuel move one desk over." Francisco moved over along with Galina, Hosni and Luis, leaving an empty desk between Francisco and Carmela, who apparently bore the surname Emmanuel. "Aurelia, sit between Emmanuel and Librizzi." Orélie opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it, moving silently to the empty desk instead. She stacked her textbooks at the corner of the desk in size order and crossed her ankles neatly.
"No more imaginary students?" Morfosi queried. He ignored his own question and continued. "So, Signorina… uh… Jacques, I see you're not a figment after all. Class - since we have a new student, shall I give the introductory speech from first year?"
"No," piped up Galina, Luis and Kameko in unison; the rest of the class, excluding Orélie, merely groaned.
"You aren't much fun, are you?" asked Morfosi rhetorically. "But I admire your dedication; I see none of you want to waste another moment of class time. Let's proceed straight to the lesson then." This announcement was greeted by muffled sighs and the sounds of students shifting in the attempt to find a comfortable position. "Now, who can give us a review of what we learned last year? Any volunteers?"
Francisco stood, the rubber soles of his shoes squeaking against the tiled floor. Without asking for permission, he launched in to his lecture. "Last-year-we-studied-the-rules-of-Transfiguration-and-the-principles-behind-these-rules-focusing-on-transforming-living-things-to-nonliving-and-vice-versa." He didn't take a single breath during his "review," causing the words to run together and the last phrase to be emitted in a rush of air. The class, with the exceptions of Galina, Hosni and the Professor, wore countenances of confusion.
"That'll do," remarked Morfosi, who didn't appear to be paying attention at all. "Grazie, but please request permission next time." Francisco nodded, looking oddly proud of himself, and the rest of the Glass third year bore expressions of approval. Only Orélie remained in confusion.
Carmela grinned broadly. "That was much quicker than when Morfosi did the review last year," she whispered. "Hey Francisco!" She leaned surreptitiously across Orélie's desk, causing the newer girl to jerk back. "Buono lavoro (good work)!" Francisco nodded smugly.
"Signorina Emmanuel!" Professor Morfosi, going impossibly fast for such an indolent man, arrived at Carmela's desk in a split second. "You were whispering!" he barked. A heavy sigh, and he tilted his head back as if seeking aid from the ceiling. "HOW many TIMES do I have to TELL you? You are in my classroom; you pay attention to me!" Letting his head droop floor-wards, he took a deep breath, and when he spoke again he was back to his mellow tones. "The deterioration of etiquette in today's society is truly reprehensible." Orélie almost nodded, then pretended to look for her quill instead.
The rest of the class remained wisely silent as the irate professor ambled back to his desk. There must have been a stool behind it, because he seemed to instantly grow several inches taller. "Enough fun and games," Morfosi declared indulgently. "This year, we'll start with our Variants unit. That, of course, means Transfiguring a substance into a related form, such as wood to paper." He smiled distantly at his pupils. "Though perhaps in your case, sand to glass would be more appropriate." A moment's silnce passed as he waited for the class to laugh. "Yes, well," the unfortunate Professor continued uncomfortably, "sand to glass it is. Who would like to pass out supplies? Very good, Mitzanova. Tell me when you're done."
Luis, Kameko, Hosni, Francisco and Carmela seized the opportunity to throw significant looks at each other. Orélie narrowed her eyes, drawing her light brows together, in a squinting attempt to gauge Galina's progress. Morfosi abandoned his podium to scribble something in a floppy blue notebook. Galina finished gathering metal dishes filled with sand and silently distributed them, one per desk. "Grazie," Orélie murmured, and Hosni followed suit before returning to a whispered argument with Luis. The other students were too busy making the most of their gossip session to acknowledge anything else; so it was that only Orélie noticed Galina awakening Professor Morfosi from the world of his notebook. "He's done doodling," Orélie informed her classmates, who silenced themselves just in time to escape Morfosi's notice.
The Professor returned to his unseen stool for what seemed like the hundredth time. "Buon (good)," he told the universe approvingly. "Now we can finally get on with the lesson itself. Remember, the most important part of the spell is FOCUS. FOCUS, and the rest will come," he yawned into a rapidly produced handkerchief, "eventually. Remember, the substance will liquefy is you just CONVINCE the particles to move. Take advantage of natural processes!"
The seven students looked obediently at their respective dishes, except for Kameko who was tracking the progress of a spider on the ceiling. Morfosi pulled his notebook from an invisible pocket and continued to make enthusiastic lines of ink. As Orélie had observed, it looked more like sketching than writing. After a few minutes of intense concentration, steam began to rise from a few of the dishes.
Orélie spread her sand evenly over the circular bottom of the dish, then used spiral motions to heat it. Very slowly, the grains melted into each other and became transparent - first the outer edges, the heat spreading towards the center of what was beginning to become a disk.
"Look at mine," Carmela muttered to Kameko. The placid (or tired) girl nodded approvingly at Carmela's flat piece of putty-turning-to-glass, where air bubbles popped and left spherical impressions. Kameko gestured toward her own dish. She had heated a small section, and then piled the rest of the sand on top. It melted in layers like those of a mud castle.
"Oh, molto buona (very good)!" Morfosi exclaimed, catching sight of Galina's work. He lifted it from the dish to show the class and burned his fingers slightly in the process. "She's finished already. See the PURITY, the CLARITY of the glass? PERFECTLY flat and smooth!" Carmela and Hosni nodded politely; the others were too busy with their own projects.
Orélie's glass soup had hardened to a waxy consistency. Biting her lower lip, she began to pull the edges upward with her wand. Every few seconds, she stopped and used her wand to hollow the middle of the circle, providing more edge-material.
"Refinito (finished)!" Luis declared. Gingerly, he wrapped his hand in parchment and raised his completed effort. It was a knobby lump, brown-tinted, and reflected the light at interesting angles.
Morfosi frowned. "Si… that is technically a successful transformation. Note, however, the imperfections of the piece: the irregular shape, the flawed hue."
"It might look nice hanging on someone's window," Luis pointed out, clearly unrepentant. "See how it makes rainbows?" He tilted the chunk of glass slightly, causing the aforementioned rainbows to be cast, shimmering, on Professor Morfosi's face. Morfosi hurriedly stepped away from the floating colors.
"Signorina Emmanuel, let's see how you did. Not bad; good color although your heating technique appears to have been inconsistent. You've improved since last year." Seeing that Orélie was not yet finished, he moved over to Kameko. "What's this? You can do better than this." He fixed the recalcitrant girl with a stern look. "It would seem that you rushed through it."
"Spiacente (sorry)," Kameko replied quietly, her tone properly apologetic. "My balloon arrived at around one o'clock last night - or this morning."
Morfosi immediately softened his expression. "Oh, right. I'd forgotten about that. I think I can let it pass this one time." His next steps took him three desks down, once more bypassing the still-working Orélie. "Librezzi, let's see yours." Francisco smiled slightly as he displayed his piece of glass, which was almost as smooth as Galina's but contained a few grains of sand entrapped within the disk. "I see you used your usual concentration on the minor details, but your transformation wasn't as thorough as it could have been."
"Si, Signor," Francisco acknowledged. "I'll remember for next time." Morfosi nodded in vague approval and moved on to praise Hosni's attention to reliable heating. Orélie painstakingly put the finishing touches on her project.
"And Signorina Jacques… well that's interesting." Francisco and Galina turned their heads to examine the situation. Professor Morfosi extended his hand, and Orélie passed him a small, slightly asymmetrical but very clear glass bowl. "Good heating technique, though it could be improved - this side of the bowl is thinner than the other. There doesn't seem to be any remaining sand. The bowl is nice for an impromptu piece, but don't let your creativity get in the way of the basics."
"May I keep it?" Orélie asked guardedly. One of her hands reached for the bowl of its own accord. Professor Morfosi offered no resistance. "It might be useful, you know, to put things in."
"To put things in." Morfosi's dark blue eyes took on a glazed look as he repeated the phrase. "Si… si, I suppose you may. Remember, though, that these are supplies. Try not to get so attached to them in the future." He craned his neck to look at the other students, all of whom were in varying states of distraction, and then glared inattentively at Orélie. "Oh, drat, now I have to practice the impartiality policy. Fine then," (he raised his voice), "each of you may keep one object over you make this year."
A few students - Hosni, Kameko and Galina - looked up with puzzled expressions, coming too late to the realization that the Professor had made an announcement. The remaining three students followed suit, until all seven members of the class sat attentively at their desks, wide innocent eyes awaiting further information.
"WELL then?" boomed Morfosi. "Get out. The CLASS has ENDED, children. Go ON now." This was a statement that every student could comprehend. In a mere twitch of muscles, Luis was opening the door. Francisco, Kameko, Carmela, Hosni and Orélie followed, the latter carefully carrying her glass bowl. Galina brought up the rear, haphazardly shoving the door closed behind her.
The first few steps through the hallway were taken in relative silence, footfalls mingling with mutters from neighboring corridors. It was Luis who cut through the quiet. "FINALLY, we're OUT of there--" and just as abruptly he clapped a hand over his mouth. A few seconds passed before he once more allowed himself to speak in a vicious mutter. "I hate it when that happens." Kameko laughed freely; Francisco and Orélie gave a slight smile (one each, of course). Luis merely ran a hand through his hair.