 Transfiguration HW - post open for anyone! Professor Pink | Mrs. Bruce Wayne | I'm on a Goat | Glitterpuff | Dumbledore's Defense Squad | BHB
Where were all the Ravenclaws?
Davie liked this spot because he genuinely liked studying, and studying in the Ravenclaw common room made him feel like he was getting smarter just by the osmosis of all his intelligent peers' auras. Or whatever the Divination textbook had said. Today he was studying Transfiguration, one of his best subjects, and it would help if he had a peer around. He could understand if no one else wanted to study at 4 o'clock on a Friday afternoon though. It was March. It was pleasant outside. He forgave them. But as for him, he was going to do some Transfiguration.
Clearing his throat from the couch where he sat, Davie made sure there was a good amount of phlegm in his throat, and then sunk down a little lower into the couch cushions. He pulled a small fork he'd borrowed from lunch out and set it on his leg, then lazily waved his wand at it, muttering, "Scribblifourrrrs," as lazily as possible. He imagined this was how Slytherins who didn't care if their silver went missing said the spell.
Naturally, the fork did nothing. Well, it quivered a bit, but it certainly didn't transform into a quill as was the intent of the spell. Right. Davie made note of that on his parchment resting on the couch's armrest, and tried again, this time with precise language: "Scribblifors!" he squeaked, still with poor posture, his head drooping onto his chest. The bottom of the fork, the handle part, seemed to sharpen slowly into a quill-like point, but what was the use of a quill that still had tings to it? It was-- it was a quork! Or a forill! Fascinating. Davie picked it up and admired it in the light, jotting down a simple sketch of his newly invented device.
Now, now he needed to do the spell properly, and put this little fork out of its misery. The first year straightened up his posture, held the quork out in front of him, and cleared his throat importantly. Time to focus on what he really wanted: a simple quill. "Scribblifors!" Davie cast confidently, watching as the fork finished its transfiguration into a real and proper quill, featherly light at one end, and razor sharp for ink at the other. Perrrrrrfect.
He tickled his cheek with the quill and then dipped it into his inkpot to finish his notes--- and to test out its transfigured quality. There, that wasn't so bad. He could probably answer all his questions based on this little experiment...
__________________
yeah, there's one thing about me that you should know________________________________
__________________________________________that I can't help from speaking my mind |