Alone? Good. It was just Cutty and his wand and the green-lit solace of the Slytherin Common room. The boy spotted a small, low table and got down on his knees and laid before the fire. Wearing a serene, but almost non-existent smile on his face, Cutty skooted beneath the small table inch by inch, his wand slowly being removed by his too-small-for-him robes.

"Intaglio." He whispered looking up at the underside of the small table as he carefully began to carve a dead kneazle. He considered chanting. De-De-De, Kne-Kne... .

Upon completion of the image, Cutty rolled out from under the small table pushed himself up and plopped onto the sofa. He held out his wand and locked his eyes upon the image of it. It was small, at least when compared with his size and the size he was likely to grow too. But that wasn't a disadvantage. Rather, he thought that it made it easy to stow and quickly brandish. Another thing he was rather fond of was the way it bulged at the end from which he held it from and tapered at the other to an almost fine point. He thought it might easily double as a less magical weapon and the bulging handle side supported his grip and guarded his knuckles like the hilt of a sword. In fact, he found it's appearance was rather sword-like.

To think. He almost lost it. And would have if it had not been for Beverly Wayne. Who knew what Sophie Newell would've done with it.