 Wizarding World RPG Admin
Minister for Magic
Alley Proprietor
    Leprechaun
Join Date: Aug 2010 Location: The Paths
Posts: 40,021
Hogwarts RPG Name:
Briallen Ashburry-Hawthorne
Gryffindor First Year
Hogwarts RPG Name:
Nyle Harden
Hufflepuff Second Year
Hogwarts RPG Name:
Iris Harden
Ravenclaw Second Year
Hogwarts RPG Name:
Calliope Barrington
Slytherin First Year
Hogwarts RPG Name:
Diamond Marchbanks
Gryffindor Sixth Year
Ministry Department Head:
Charles Hollingberry
Minister's Office
Ministry Department Head:
Airey Flamsteed
Mysteries
Diagon Alley Proprietor:
Zachaël Lufkin
Owl Post
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|  astronomizzle ♧ gryffinDORK | & the rest is drag ♣ #badluckDerf
Calliope scoffed, unimpressed - and actually genuinely disappointed in his banter for once. “Oh, that’s your argument?” She fixed him with a look, one brow arching high, and arms folded over her chest. “The beauty of Quidditch is that you can play in any weather you like. You know, with preparation. With foreknowledge. Not with some maniac - ” she glanced toward Professor Carton, tactfully lowering her voice. “ - magically manipulating the conditions on a whim. That’s not just unpleasant, that’s cheating. And illegal, by the way, in case you were wondering.” The whole thing had been utterly ridiculous. What kind of professor thought it was a brilliant idea to hold tryouts in a magically conjured snowstorm, especially when half the participants had barely learned how to mount a broom without wobbling? Even seasoned players—like herself, obviously—could have ended up in the hospital wing with no time to adjust, no warning, no chance to prepare. Normally, you at least had the basic courtesy of looking out a window before stepping onto the pitch. Bitter was a pesty flavor, wasn't it?
Calliope sighed, leveling her wand at yet another pebble. At this point, it was less about getting it right and more about proving that she could do better than whatever that last thing masquerading as fish had been. "Piscifors." The flash of blue light faded, and for a moment, she thought she’d finally nailed it - right size, right colors, no flickering in and out of existence. But then it turned to face her.
Oh. Oh. Oh nope. NOPE.
Its eyes were too wide, its mouth twisted downward in a warped, perpetual wail, like it had been yanked straight out of a melting painting and dropped unceremoniously into her fishbowl. It jerked forward in erratic little bursts, its whole form slightly drooping, as if even the water couldn't quite support the weight of its existential dread. She watched as the fish twitched toward Maddox like it was about to bubble its last words to her friend. "Well, congrats. When you do end up in that tank, at least you’ll have some avant-garde, artistic company." Just because he was right in calling her attempts wrong did not make him anymore interesting. Not to mention he needed to clean out his ears because when had she given any indication that she was concerned about being haunted by fish?
Calliope pouted her lips, glancing back and forth between the actual fish swimming around and her...attempts. Pay attention to their differences? Sure, that was perhaps the easiest assignment at the moment. The first year rolled her eyes, barely resisting the urge to point out that nicely done was a very generous way to describe whatever abomination after abomination she and Maddox had created. What was nice about a fish that looked like it had melted straight off a cursed portrait? Or one that was still half a rock? She didn’t need empty encouragement, thank you no-so-very much. They all could just skip the sugarcoating and tell her what she was doing wrong. Though, to be entirely fair, she would probably just blame Maddox for being distracting - because he was and in SO many ways.
Calliope squared her shoulders, determined to get something right before the end of the lesson. She picked another pebble - because clearly, the last one had ALSO been defective - and took a steadying breath the way she would before tackling a particularly tricky drum solo. Timing, precision, and intent. Which meant she had to clear her thoughts of turning Maddox, and his dumb cards, into a fish “Piscifors.”
The blue light flashed, and this time, the result was actually...not all that terrible. A properly colored fish appeared, its scales shimmering as it darted around the bowl, no melting face, no eerie flickering, no unfortunate gelatinous state.
But.
It was about a third of the size it should have been. And missing a front fin.
The tiny, slightly lopsided thing paddled valiantly in circles, its movements a little off-balance but still, miraculously, functional. For all intents and purposes, she had successfully transfigured a fish. Woo hoo?
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