Post by Conor Driscol on Jul 23, 2009 0:19:27 GMT -5
Conor spent most of his time at school completely avoiding school. As it was his sixth year, technically, and he had taken his OWLs the previous year, he decided he would no longer need to take most of the normal classes. No more Defense Against Dark Arts, because a mudcrab scared him senseless, let alone a Lethifold or Bogart. He dropped history, both Magical and Muggle because, simply, he was bored of it. Charms? He had almost killed his tutor in Lyons when he tried to light a candle. Magical beasts? He surely had no idea where to find them.
He still attended two classes, one of them an advanced class. He took Potions, though only on a fifth year level, and he took Advanced Transfiguration. Yes, while Conor couldn't safely make a feather fly, he could turn the bird it came from into a small clock. He could create sand from glass, glass from sand, but couldn't tell you what a Doxi was.
So, while Conor avoided most of the school, he spent his free time in the Library, studying people as well as the Transfiguration section. The people who came in and out of the library were the oddest people. They were loud, destructive, and sometimes just plain creepy. The Transfiguration section, though, tended to be lonely. Most students wanted to learn charms in order to do amazing feats, or Dueling spells, to defend themselves against the cruel world.
Conor wanted to learn how to turn into an animal.
He had realized long ago that he was useless. He couldn't be a fighter, he couldn't be a leader. Conor would have to be a master of something in order to hold on to any shred of self respect. The true master of Transfiguration could turn into an animal on will.
And Conor would do it, by god. He would turn into...
Something.
Earlier that day, Conor got a boy who was a friend to agree on a date. That was stressful. He would sit here, at a desk, his mahogany wand (ten inches, pliable, with a dragon heartstring) laid out in front of him, reading over an orderly pile of books. As the hours waned on, he mulled through most of the books on theory and practice of Transfiguration. Then, he came across a potions book accidentally left on the table. It was dusty, and written by a "Birchheel."
He flipped to the index in the back. There was a potion listed under "Animagus." Curiously, Conor flipped to the page.
Interesting.
He pulled a ribbon out of his robe pocket, tapped it with his wand, and watched it as it transformed into a cotton book-mark adorned with a cursive "T" at the top. He marked the page, intending to check out this book. This would have to be an over night read.
"I wonder," he thought aloud, "If there are any animagi in the area who can give me hints..."
He still attended two classes, one of them an advanced class. He took Potions, though only on a fifth year level, and he took Advanced Transfiguration. Yes, while Conor couldn't safely make a feather fly, he could turn the bird it came from into a small clock. He could create sand from glass, glass from sand, but couldn't tell you what a Doxi was.
So, while Conor avoided most of the school, he spent his free time in the Library, studying people as well as the Transfiguration section. The people who came in and out of the library were the oddest people. They were loud, destructive, and sometimes just plain creepy. The Transfiguration section, though, tended to be lonely. Most students wanted to learn charms in order to do amazing feats, or Dueling spells, to defend themselves against the cruel world.
Conor wanted to learn how to turn into an animal.
He had realized long ago that he was useless. He couldn't be a fighter, he couldn't be a leader. Conor would have to be a master of something in order to hold on to any shred of self respect. The true master of Transfiguration could turn into an animal on will.
And Conor would do it, by god. He would turn into...
Something.
Earlier that day, Conor got a boy who was a friend to agree on a date. That was stressful. He would sit here, at a desk, his mahogany wand (ten inches, pliable, with a dragon heartstring) laid out in front of him, reading over an orderly pile of books. As the hours waned on, he mulled through most of the books on theory and practice of Transfiguration. Then, he came across a potions book accidentally left on the table. It was dusty, and written by a "Birchheel."
He flipped to the index in the back. There was a potion listed under "Animagus." Curiously, Conor flipped to the page.
Interesting.
He pulled a ribbon out of his robe pocket, tapped it with his wand, and watched it as it transformed into a cotton book-mark adorned with a cursive "T" at the top. He marked the page, intending to check out this book. This would have to be an over night read.
"I wonder," he thought aloud, "If there are any animagi in the area who can give me hints..."