DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, and I certainly don't own Mrs. Capers, who insisted she be in my story somewhere. My english teacher is amazing.
Chapter o5
It was just as Scorpius and I had expected: classes were easily the most boring thing ever to be brought onto earth. Even as Rose slumped down next to them at the Slytherin table during lunch, she did with a "Please shoot me now, I think I'm going to die from boredom."
"I thought you were 'excited'' I muttered sarcastically. She let an angry 'pfft'.
"All the teachers have been talking about today is rules and other things that I already knew. Do you think I should skip a grade?" She didn't sound like she liked the idea at all, and in all honesty, neither did I.
"That is a horrible idea. Get over yourself and live with being too smart for your own good." Scorpius told her bluntly before taking a bite out of his parmesean and corned beef sandwich.
"That's disgusting." I nodded towards his food choice, grimacing with the taste my imagination was coming up with.
"You're mum's disgusting." He muttered in response. Rose looked at him, astonished.
"From an entirely straight and non-incestrial point of view, Albus' mum is actually very attractive for her age, and in no way 'disgusting'." She told him, honesty dripping from her voice. The two of us looked at her in confusion.
"I'll remember to tell her that the next time I see her." I said, my head swaying up and down of its own accord.
"Please do." She smiled innocently. "And tell her that I said hi, as well." She added.
"Right."
"'Ello, mates." Artimus slid into the seat next to me, a cheerful grin on his face.
"What were you up to?" Scorpius asked hesitantly, still not quite sure where he was with the Slytherin. None of us were, after all, he seemed to be the only one who really tolerated us, especially me. I mean, they had to tolerate Scorpius, even Grey, to some extent. His dad was the minister of magic. But still, the three of us were still obviously hesitant to go further than tolerence, to friendship.
"Garble says I've got a knack for charms. He says I might even start on the later lessons earlier than everyone else, since I seem to grasp the subject so easily." Artimus' accomplished grin at something that others (myself included) might have found useless, hardly worth being excited about, made me realize that Artimus obviously had some potential in the friendship department.
"That's fantastic Artimus." Rose said, a hint of a smile finally appearing.
"You can call me Art." He told her quickly, though I knew the invitation branched out for all of us, "That's what everyone else calls me." We all nodded in consent. "Plus, Artimus sounds all...formal." He scrunched up his nose.
"That's fantastic as well." I agreed, grinning.
"Get away from our bloody table!" An older student suddenly yelled from nine or ten seats away. The surrounding people nodded, looking annoyed.
"Get bent." Rose replied in the same tone of voice.
"Their right." Scorpius groaned. "We can't keep sitting here. Do you see the looks we're getting?" I grinned micheviously.
"We're the Mischevious Three. Those looks are all part of the image." I rebutted him, smirking wickedly. Rose snorted in a very unladylike fashion.
"Your the what?" Art asked, his eyebrow raised skeptically.
"The Michevious Three." Scorpius rolled his eyes.
"And...what exactly does that mean?" Art prodded, his look becoming more pronounced.
"You'll just have to wait and find out, love." Rose patted his back gingerly. "Just like the rest of the world." Art grimaced.
"I hate waiting." He muttered darkly.
"You're right though, Scorpius, if one more person looks like their going to hex me, I may just scream."
"Speaking of screaming, where's the obnoxious one...Grey...?" Scorpius asked, averting his gaze back to Art, who shrugged.
"How should I know where the ponce is? Maybe someone did us all a favor and locked him in a broom closet." He replied. "I can't believe we have to share a room with him." He added, looking at me and shaking his head in disgust. My agreement was plainly writtan on my face.
"I do believe I will be getting in trouble at some point this year because of the dunce."
"Bullocks." Rose scoffed. We all stared at her. "With, Scorpius and I, you will be getting into trouble for more than just one lonely boy." She explained as though it were obvious. I had to agree with that as well.
"Yes, though I haven't come up with any ideas yet." I sighed, grimacing. As if to give us more cover for our evil planning, people started getting up out of their spots all around the four, Art standing up quickly with them, the excitment back in his eyes.
"See you in a few minutes." He said to me, and then walked off, digging in his bag, most likely for his schedule. The three of us stood as well, realizing that it must be the end of lunch.
"We need to meet up tonight, and see what all we've got to work with." Rose said, none of us moving with the others, and getting warning looks from what I guessed were passing prefects (there were badges, that had to mean something).
"Where?" Scorpius asked, looking aporeticly around them.
"What about the astronomy tower?" Rose suggested quickly, and at our confused glances, she sighed and added "It's where we'll be going for astronomy." I glared at her.
"Duh, Rosie, but how are we going to find it. It's not like we know the school inside out or anything." I reminded her.
"Go up the stairs until you can't anymore," She said, stupidly slow and emphasizing each word, "You bloody dunce." She added, hitting me over the back of the head.
"Oh go bugger off." I grumbled, feeling a bit like an idiot. From Scorpius' face, he felt like one too.
"Come on, we need to go." She said, looking around at the lack of people in the great hall. "What class do you have?" She added, looking at us respectively.
"Transfiguration" I replied.
"History of Magic." Scorpius said a milisecond after.
"Oh, he's bloody awful." She told him, grimacing.
"I don't have him until tomarrow." I told them.
"Lucky bastard." Rose said, then pointed to one of the exits. "You just go down that corridor until you get to a staircase. Go up it, and History of Magic is right there." She told him. He nodded and started walking off in that direction. "I've got Charms, so I'll see you later." With a half-hearted hug, Rose skipped off, leaving me to go my own way and try to find the Transfiguration class room.
I ended up being painfully late to class, running through the door as soon as I was sure I was in the right place. My cheeks were flushed pink, sweat making my back itch in an infuriating way, and everyone was staring at me. The professor, a veluptious witch with short, obviously dyed flame red hair and lime green robes stopped talking and turned to look at me with a raised eyebrow that screamed 'run away'. The only problem was, was that I wasn't sure I could run anymore. I hadn't predicted the room to be as far away from the great hall as it was, or maybe it just seemed that far because of how lost I'd gotten...
"Wonderful of you to join us, Mr. Potter." I didn't bother wondering how she already knew my name, most people did, and I looked just like my da.
"Can you believe I got attacked by a forest troll on my way here?" I tried, finally giving in to the sweat and reaching behind me to scratch my back.
"Really?" the unknown professor said dryly, waiting for me to elaborate.
I did so quickly. "I really think Headmaster McGonnagal should keep better tabs on who or what comes in or out of the school. That thing almost ate my legs!" I lied, nodding my head for emphasis. I knew she wouldn't believe me, but perhaps she would be amused?
"Five points from Slytherin for lying, Potter." Then, the professor smirked, "And seven points to Slytherin for creativity." My mouth dropped open in surprise. Did I just get two points for blatantly lying. "Creativity is needed in Transfiguration," At this, she turned back to the class, motioning with her hand for me to sit down. "You need a wicked mind, and an abundance of imagination." I did so, taking a seat next to Art, who was staring at the professor in rapt attention. "You need to be able to picture what your transfiguring in your mind, this is the only way to acheive perfection. And, as head of the Slytherin house," She stared those of us in Slytherin down, "I expect nothing less of perfection." I involentarily wanted to crawl into a corner and hide from her.
"Speaking of which," She suddenly smiled, "I've forgotten to introduce myself. My name is Professor Annabelle Sarah Sanders, and you may call me anything you like." Her smile widened to one of pure happiness. "I am not a formal person, as you will soon learn, and therefore, I do not expect you to be either. For now, I will call you by either your sernames or your first, depending on how creative they are. If your name is something like..." She paused for a moment, then her eyes hit a small hufflepuff girl, "Michelle, I will most likely call you by your last name, but if they're something like," She looked over again, and said "Artimus," Art blushed beside me as people turned to look at him, "I'll make it something more imaginative, perhaps...Tim. Who here would have immediatly thought of the name 'Tim' when I said his name." From the looks of it, Art obviously hadn't. "It doesn't sound creative, does it? There are probably hundreds, maybe thousands of people who are named Tim, but Mr. Zambini would have never thought of it.
"Transfiguration is much the same. It's a subtle creativity, but it is most definately there, and only those who refuse to see Tim as a 'Tim' are the ones who refuse to see Tranfiguration. Miss Finnigan, stand at attention!" A petite blonde in front of him jumped out of her seat, blue eyes wide with the fear of the cracking whip in Professor Sanders voice. The older woman smiled kindly at her. "Thank you dearie." She said sweetly. "I have something for you, Miss Finnigan, and I don't think you'll like it." The Professor walked lazily towards us, her eyes fixed on the girl in front of me. A few feet away, she spoke again "Put out your left hand and close your eyes, Miss Finnigan." She ordered softly. The girl did so, trembling in obvious fear, her hand straight in front of her. The Professor smirked, and dropped something only about an inch and a half long into it. "What is it in your hand, Miss Finnigan?" She asked, looking down at the girl.
The girl peeked her eyes open, then stared at her hand in confusion. "It's just a match, Ms." She replied, looking back up at the woman in front of her. The Professor smiled, albeit ruefully, and looked slowly around the class, talking to everyone once more.
"Big is right, of course, it is just a match. Matches, for the most part, are completely harmless, unless you use them to create a fire, as three of my second year students did last year," The Professor looked at me as she said it, and I had an idea of who the three were. It figured James and the twins would light a classroom on fire. "Miss Finnigan, I would like it if you took out your wand, and turned this useless match into a sewing needle, do you understand?" The girl nodded slowly, seeming quite unsure. She unsteadly took her wand from off her desk, replacing it with the match. "Concentrate on the match, Lindsey," The Professor started, her voice soothing and melodic. "Use your mind to see it turn into a needle. The needle is longer, thinner, metallic, and peircingly sharp. Tell me what else it is, Lindsey." Lindsey bit her lip in concentration before answering.
"It's glinting off the light. And it's blue." She added, this one mostly to herself. The Professor grinned in appreciation.
"That is a very good job, Lindsey. I want you to wave you wand, and say 'Trasimate', while thinking about your blue sewing needle. Ready, steady, and -"
"Trasimate" Lindsey murmured, waving her wand, almost as long as her arm, and everyone looked in awe as the plain match started turning into a blue sewing needle. Suddenly, she was grinning madly and breathing as heavily as I had when I'd first arrived. "Oh my god I did it!" She squealed, and turned to hug the closest person to her, which was, incidently, me. Before I could shove her off of me (and I kind of wanted to, girls were gross, with the exception of Rose, who was pretty much a boy anyways), she'd already turned around and was hugging The Professor.
"That was wonderful, Miss Finnigan." The Professor told her, smiling as she took the needle off of the desk. "Do you see, class? A vivid imagination can turn a match into a blue needle. Remember that, Miss Finnigan, when you're fighting off the boys." She winked at the younger girl, who giggled, obviously no longer frightened of the older woman. "By the time you graduate, you shall be able to turn the match into a needle," She handed the prize back to Lindsey, "Into a doll," Without saying anything, the needle started to grow until it was a litte blonde replica of the girl holding it, "into a puppy." It turned into a little ginger dog with it's eyes still closed. Lindsey cooed and started petting it. "You can turn it into a snake" Before anyone could react, the puppy had suddenly turned bright green in Lindsey's hand. She screamed, her eyes bulging, and threw it hard across the room. It landed on a desk and hissed angrily. People started backing away from it in fear. "Into a cat." We all breathed a sigh of relief, until the snake was suddenly huge, sleek, and black, rawring with large fangs longer than my fingers. Many others started screaming then, until The Professor, her mouth twitching, but her face completely straight otherwise, said "and back into a match." The large, wild cat turned small and inanimate once again, making me breath again. My heart was pounding in my chest with the fear of the animal, my hand clenched into a fist around a wand that I didn't actually know how to use.
"Right now, I would like you all to return to your seats." Everyone hurried to do so, the person who occupied the seat with the match sat while looking at it in complete and utter fear. "I will hand you each a match, and by the end of class, I want you all to have turned it into a needle. Make your needle unique, and make it creative." With a wave of her hand, a match appeared on our desks, mind looking worn and normal, though I couldn't help but look at it wearily. "Well," She snapped, "get started."
He had to admit, he liked The Professor, as eccentric as she seemed to be, but he could definately see why she was the head of his house. The woman had be evil, and nutters to boot. He grinned as he began working out a needle in his head.