(1938-10-14) Fuzzy Transfiguration
Details for Fuzzy Transfiguration
Summary: Dean and Angelus in a third year Transfiguration class.
Date: 1938-10-14
Location: Transfiguration Classroom, Hogwarts

This large oval classroom is lined with small marble columns that end in decorative arches supporting a large domed roof. The sides of the room are lined with many large cages containing a variety of different animals and birds that the more advanced students can use as examples while practicing their skills. Three rows of old fashioned wooden desks, each sitting two people, fill the middle of the room. At one end of the room there is a small stone platform that holds the professor's desk and two medium sized blackboards housed in rolling wooden frames. The whole room is illuminated by four plain, round hanging chandeliers that look very much like metal wagon wheels turned on their side and fitted with lamps.

Angelus has chosen a seat in the back of the class, setting his books down on the surface and unstrapping them. Even as he is here earlier a few students are already taking seats, but the youth is focused opening his text book to the right page, flipping through it as his tongue slips out to touch his upper lip.

Rushing in at the last moment, Dean stops just short of running into a girl standing near the door. He mumbles something and juggles his books before making his way towards the desks. Stopping at the first one he comes to he offers the student a smile and a nod. "'Ey Eibon, mind if I sit?"

Angelus is sitting at the table and reading a little ahead when he looks up at Dean's approach. He arches a brow, his blue eyes flicking towards another table where a redheaded girl sits. A quiet sigh escapes him before he simply smirks, glancing back at Dean as he gestures out with his hand along with a bit of a shrug. "Why not?" he says, offering a smile. "You're good at this stuff, aren't you, Hawthorne?" He keeps his voice low since class is about to start.

Dean slides into the chair next to Angelus. "Brilliant, thanks." He starts sorting out his books, sliding a few off to settle down by his feet. Only the Transfiguration book and his sketchbook are left. Dean glances at the other boy at his question. "Stuff? Transfig? Yeah, I'm pretty decent. Loads better than a few other classes, at least." He straightens in his chair to inspect the blackboard, and flips his text book to the correct page. "Ancient Runes gives me nightmares, I swear."

Angelus nods his head in acknowledgement. "It's not my best class," he states quietly, smirking. He lifts his shoulders in response to Runes. "Does it?" he questions as he tilts his head. "Why?" When class starts though, Angelus picks up his quill and points it to the professor, chin lifting in gesture. His eyes focus ahead to listen.

Dean opens his mouth to answer, but as Professor Dumbledore starts the lecture, he only nods to Angelus' gesture and takes his own quill, picking up his journal from his other books. He listens to the lecture on the 'fur spell' taking a steady stream of notes in his journal, and even applauding as the professor demonstrates the fur spell on a goblet.

Angelus focuses on the lecture for the most part, though his gaze does drift off to a table a couple of times as a pair of students whisper briefly to each other. The youth frowns when he catches one such whisper from the table in front. Something about a rowdy disagreement at lunch about blood statuses, but the whispers cease when Dumbledore addresses them. Angelus gives Dean a look - just a look with an arched brow. He focuses on the rest of the lecture, looking down to read over the notes he had just taken on the fur spell.

As Dumbledore moves down the desks handing out random goblets, bowls, and pottery to students, Dean replaces his quill into the pot and slides his things a bit to make room. As the professor is still towards the front, he whispers to Angelus. "What was that all about?" He lifts his chin to gesture towards the whispering pair in front of them.

Angelus replies with a roll of his shoulders and a shake of his head. "I wasn't there," he comments quietly. He lets the bowl rest just on top of his book, idly playing with the bowl by turning it round slowly by twirling his finger by its edge. A sigh escapes him and he murmurs, "Probably just two people standing up for what they believe in." After the professor explains a few more things about the spell and sets them about with a task, Angelus draws out his wand from his robes, a pendant dangling from the end of the blue vanity handle as he grips it. He flashes a grin at Dean as he lets out an uncertain chuckle. "Think you can pull this spell off?"

Dean nods to Dumbledore as a clay jar is deposited on his desk. "Thank you, Professor." He turns the jar a bit, inspecting it as he listens to Angelus. He glances at the other boy for a moment, trying to figure out what exactly he meant by his words. As Angelus' wand comes out, Dean digs out his own lilac wood wand from his robes, and returns the grin. Pushing up the sleeves of his robe, he taps the jar as if to test something, then swishes as the professor had shown them. "Pellicius!" The air crackles around the jar before a thick coat of snowy-white fur sprouts out of it's surface. Dean quickly wipes away the surprised look on his face for a smug one. "Easy as pie."

Angelus focuses his blue eyes on Dean's wand and jar, quietly watching the movement and the fur sprouting from its target. A grin tugs at his lips as he bobs his head, shifting his gaze onto Dean. "Nice work," he says impressively. He wets his lips briefly with his tongue as he turns his gaze onto the bowl, and tilts his head as he shoots a glance to Dean. "Let's see." In his focus, his tongue touches his upper lip, holding his wand in front of him. A swift flick and a swish, the movement a bit hasty but the motions match. "Pellicius," he states, the tone a bit uncertain and the 'cius' pronounced slightly off. The spell doesn't quite fail, instead the bowl is zapped with a spell that cracks it and blackens one side of it. Angelus frowns, letting out a hum in his thoughts, but then glances to Dean with a dismissive, "It's probably going to take some work," he says on a chuckle.

By the end of the class Angelus does manage to sprout fur on the bowl, but it takes a few tries before he gets it. He stacks his books on top of each other, bounding them with his book strap before he looks to Dean. "I'll see you in History, Hawthorne."

By now, Dean has turned not only the jar into a fuzzball, but his inkpot as well. He grins as he watches Angelus and offers encouragement where he can. When the other boy finally gets the fur to sprout he offers him a congratulatory bow of the head. Gathering up his things, Dean rushes out of the class, offering Angelus a wave as he turns down the corridor away from the classroom.

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