On Thursday morning, Draco arrived at breakfast in a much better mood than Blaise had expected.
"I thought you'd be looking a bit more miserable today," he said as we sat down at the Slytherin table.
Draco reached for some toast.
"Why?"
"You lost yesterday."
"I remember."
"And that's it?"
"What am I supposed to do? Stop eating?"
I smiled down at my plate.
Blaise considered that for a moment.
"That would be rather dramatic."
"Good thing I'm not going to, then."
Draco buttered his toast and changed the subject to Quidditch. Apparently, Flint had decided that snow and wind weren't good enough reasons to cut back on practice.
"He had us practising take-offs in such strong wind the other day that Montague nearly hit the stands."
"But he didn't?" Blaise asked.
"No."
"Then he learnt something."
Draco looked at him over his plate.
"I'd love to see you out on the pitch."
"And I'd love to stay in here."
I listened to them for a while, then glanced instinctively at the bag beside my feet.
Draco noticed.
"Don't get it out."
"Get what out?"
"The notebook."
"I haven't done anything yet."
"I'm trying to keep it that way."
I went back to breakfast.
There was something I wanted to add about yesterday's duel, but it could wait. Fenwick had made good use of Draco's need to answer every attack. I had the same habit, and I wasn't going to pretend a few sessions with Frederick had cured it for good.
At least I was getting better at noticing when it worked against me.
Draco found me in the library after lessons.
He didn't look as though he'd come for a book.
"Have you got time today?"
I put down my quill.
"To practise?"
"I want to try something."
"What?"
He sat opposite me.
"Yesterday, I knew the line was behind me. I saw it. Then I dodged that way anyway."
I nodded.
"You were watching Fenwick."
"I know. But how am I supposed to watch him and remember everything else at the same time?"
That was a better question than another enquiry about his rematch.
I glanced at my unfinished notes.
"Let me finish this passage. Then we'll try setting it up again."
Draco looked at the book.
"Transfiguration?"
"Yes."
"Haven't you had enough after today's lesson?"
"No."
He leaned back in his chair.
"Of course you haven't."
For several minutes, he actually stayed quiet. Only as I put down my quill did he speak again.
"Do you think Fenwick will agree to a rematch?"
I looked at him.
"I was wondering how long you'd last."
In the empty classroom, I marked out a small rectangle in chalk. Draco stood near one of the side lines, and I took a position a few paces in front of him.
"No spells for now," I said. "Try to get out without letting me stay between you and the centre."
He judged the distances.
"All right."
I moved towards him. Draco automatically stepped back, stopped and looked down.
"That's exactly what I mean."
We started again.
This time, he moved sideways. I followed, cutting him off. He changed direction too late and ended up near the edge again.
He pressed his lips together.
"I know what I'm supposed to do. I just don't notice until I'm already there."
"Try looking earlier. Before I start moving towards you."
For the next few attempts, we moved without casting. I didn't always try to corner him. Sometimes I left him space to see whether he would use it instead of following me straight away.
Eventually, he managed to move diagonally away and turn before I could get in front of him again.
"Like that?"
"Better. My turn."
Draco raised his eyebrows.
"Your turn?"
"I want to see whether I'd do anything differently."
We swapped places.
The first attempt went well. On the second, Draco moved sooner than I expected and forced me to change direction. I ended up against the short side of the rectangle.
He smiled.
"Not much room back there."
"I noticed."
"Need a hand?"
"Very funny."
This time, he laughed.
Only after that did we add simple spells. Under pressure, it was easy to fall back into old habits. Twice, though, Draco passed up an immediate counterattack and used the moment to move away from the boundary.
On the third occasion, he went back to trying to hit me at any cost.
We stopped once we both had a few things to think about.
Draco rubbed his arm but kept his wand out.
"One Protego."
"Without an attack?"
"Yes."
He faced the empty wall and took a breath.
"Protego!"
The pale shield held for a moment. Its edges blurred, and the rest vanished shortly afterwards.
On his second attempt, it never fully formed.
Draco lowered his arm.
"It was better yesterday."
"You might be tired."
"I was tired yesterday too."
He was right. He'd cast the shield after several exchanges, when Fenwick had left him no room to dodge.
"I don't know why it worked better then," I admitted. "But each attempt is getting worse now."
He studied his wand, apparently considering one more try.
Eventually, he put it away.
"All right. I'll try tomorrow."
After Transfiguration on Friday, Hermione stopped me at the door.
"Have you got the books?"
I patted my bag.
"Both. And the notes."
She smiled.
Professor McGonagall was sorting parchment at her desk. We waited for the other students to leave before approaching.
"Professor?" Hermione said. "Could we ask you something?"
McGonagall glanced at the books.
"I take it this won't be a question about a homework deadline."
"No, Professor."
Hermione opened the first book, then the second. She explained the problem with material and shape, pointing out the marked passages.
McGonagall read them carefully.
"And what conclusions have you reached?"
"The authors aren't always describing the same kind of transformation," Hermione said. "But even when the examples are similar, they give different explanations."
"A fair observation. Mr Peverell?"
I looked at the open pages.
"I don't think they mean the same thing by 'difficulty'. One is talking about achieving the shape, and the other about the properties of the object."
McGonagall nodded.
"Precisely. Both describe genuine difficulties, but they try to draw too broad a rule from them."
She went to a cupboard and took out a wooden block and a brass ring.
"If I preserve the material and alter the shape, some of the object's properties will remain unchanged."
She waved her wand. The block lengthened into a small chess piece. With another movement, it became a wooden ball.
"That does not mean any shape, however complex, will be easy to achieve. But I am limiting the number of things I need to change."
She pointed at the ring.
The brass grew pale. A moment later, a ring that looked as though it had been carved from ivory lay on the desk.
Hermione leaned closer.
"Could a transformation like that produce the right appearance without changing something like the hardness?"
"Yes. It could also alter only the outer layer, or leave some of the original material inside."
"What about the weight?" I asked.
"That can also reveal an incomplete transformation. It is not, however, a sufficient test on its own."
McGonagall picked up the ring.
"Which is why judging by appearance alone can be unreliable. An object may resemble what you intended to produce and still fail to behave as expected."
For the next few minutes, she went through examples. Hermione wrote down some of the explanations, occasionally interrupting with a question. I watched the objects.
The longer I listened, the more I wanted to try.
When McGonagall finished speaking, she noticed I was still studying the ring.
"Do you have another question?"
"Could I try a similar transformation?"
"What, exactly?"
"Changing the material without changing the shape. Into wood, for example."
She considered me for a moment.
"That requires more control than the exercises we are currently doing in class."
"I'd like to try."
She put down the ring and opened the cupboard again. This time, she took out a small brass disc.
"This object has not been transfigured. It will be more suitable for a first attempt."
She placed it in front of me.
"The incantation is 'Lignesco'. Watch the wand movement."
She demonstrated slowly: a short arc ending with the wand pointing at the centre of the object.
I repeated the gesture without casting.
McGonagall corrected the position of my wand tip.
"You don't need to trace the entire circumference. Keep the movement smooth. You must also decide what kind of wood you intend to produce. Imagining a brown surface will not be enough."
I studied the disc.
I chose oak. I knew its appearance and texture from the furniture at home. I thought of the grain, the hardness, and the fibres running through the whole object rather than merely across its surface.
I didn't need to change its shape. That made it easier to focus.
I raised my wand.
"Lignesco."
The brass darkened. Its metallic sheen faded, and fine lines appeared across the surface. A moment later, a wooden token lay on the desk.
There was no sudden jolt or resistance to struggle against. Once I grasped the result I wanted, the magic followed with a satisfying ease.
McGonagall didn't praise me immediately.
She picked up the disc, examined its edge and passed her wand over it, murmuring a checking spell. A thin streak of light passed through the wood and vanished.
Then she tapped it lightly against the desk.
"What material did you have in mind?"
"Oak."
"Why?"
"I remember what it looks like. And how it feels."
She nodded.
"A sensible choice."
Hermione moved closer.
"Has it changed all the way through?"
"Yes. There is no metal core remaining. Its properties are also consistent with the intended material."
McGonagall placed the token in front of me.
"Very well done, Mr Peverell. Especially for a first attempt."
I smiled.
"Could I try another?"
The corner of her mouth twitched.
"First, tell me what you did while casting."
I described it as well as I could. I wasn't sure my explanation of the wood's structure quite captured what I'd felt, but McGonagall listened without interrupting.
Then she asked two questions about preserving the shape and how I had focused.
Hermione listened closely too.
"That will do for today," the professor said when we finished. "Before you try again, I want you to read the section on material transformations in this volume."
She indicated one of the books.
"Miss Granger, you may read it as well. If you are still interested, we can select some suitable exercises."
Hermione marked the page at once.
We thanked her and gathered the books. Before leaving, I glanced once more at the wooden disc on the desk.
I wanted to pick it up and feel it, to check whether there really was nothing left of the brass.
McGonagall noticed.
"You may keep it."
She didn't have to tell me twice.
In the corridor, Hermione asked to see the token. She turned it over in her hand and ran a fingernail along the edge.
"How did you do it so quickly?"
"I felt as though I knew what the result should be."
"So did I."
For a moment, I searched for a better explanation.
"I think it's easier for me to turn that into a spell than to explain what I'm actually doing."
She looked at me, then back at the disc.
"I noticed."
She didn't sound offended. More like someone who had just found another question.
"When you thought about the wood, were you imagining the finished object or the material itself?"
"The material. I already had the shape in front of me."
She handed the token back.
"I want to try."
"McGonagall said she'd choose some exercises."
"I know. I'll read the chapter first."
She hugged the book to her chest.
"And check whether the author actually explains the difference between a complete transformation and changing the surface. Now I think he was using them interchangeably before."
I smiled.
Apparently, our discussion in the library wasn't over yet.
After breakfast on Saturday, I found Draco and Blaise in the common room.
Draco was reading a Quidditch magazine. Blaise lay on the sofa with a book.
"Want to go for a walk?" I asked.
Draco looked up.
"Where?"
"Around the castle."
"What for?"
"To walk."
Blaise lowered his book onto his chest.
"You haven't got something to do in the library?"
"No."
"Or a classroom where you want to try something?"
"No."
Draco studied me suspiciously.
"Are you feeling all right?"
In the end, they both came.
Blaise only complained as far as the first staircase. Then he became interested in an argument between two portraits over which of the wizards depicted in them was entitled to wear the larger hat.
Draco tried to settle the matter by asking what positions the two men had held. The portraits immediately turned on him, agreeing that young people today had no understanding of tradition.
We left before they could explain that tradition in detail.
We met Luna in the corridor leading towards the courtyard. She carried several books under one arm.
"Hello, Oliver."
"Hello."
She looked at the three of us.
"Where are you going?"
"We're trying to work that out," Draco replied.
Luna considered this.
"That sounds rather nice."
Blaise raised an eyebrow.
"Really?"
"When you're not trying to get anywhere, you can notice things you don't usually have time for."
I thought about the hats.
She had a point.
"What are you reading?" I asked.
Luna glanced at the books.
"Mostly about magical creatures. I was looking for something, but it wasn't in the first book, so I took another."
"Did you find it?"
"No. But I learnt something interesting about Mooncalves."
"That's something, then."
"I thought so too."
Draco glanced at the spines.
"Wouldn't it have been easier to ask a professor?"
"I could have. But then I wouldn't have read these books."
He didn't answer immediately.
Blaise smiled to himself.
We talked for a few more minutes. Luna told us about creatures that lived near magical springs, and how two authors described their behaviour quite differently.
She wasn't trying to decide which one was right. She wanted to find a third account.
When she headed towards Ravenclaw Tower, she waved goodbye.
Draco watched her go.
"Does she always answer like that?"
"Like what?"
"So you don't know what to say next."
"You could ask about the book," I pointed out.
Blaise laughed.
We continued walking and eventually stopped by a window in one of the upper galleries. From there, we could see the snow-covered grounds and the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Draco began describing a flight along the treeline that he intended to try once the weather improved.
"You were complaining about extra practice a moment ago," I reminded him.
"About Flint. Not flying."
"That, I understand."
I leaned against the windowsill.
For a while, we didn't need to go anywhere.
On Sunday, I sat at the desk with a sheet of parchment.
Dear Grandma,
Everything at Hogwarts has settled back into its usual routine. Lessons, homework, and trying to find time for the things I actually want to do.
On Friday, Hermione and I went to Professor McGonagall with two books that apparently disagreed about Transfiguration. We came away with another chapter to read and a wooden disc that had previously been brass.
I transfigured it myself. McGonagall checked it and said I'd done very well. It's still on my desk.
I glanced at the token beside the ink bottle.
Evelyn would probably like to see it. I'd take it home next time, provided I hadn't used it for more practice by then.
Draco is complaining about the weather because it interferes with Quidditch practice. Blaise thinks the best way to deal with winter is to stay on the sofa. Yesterday, I managed to get both of them out for a walk around the castle.
Richard might enjoy hearing that Draco lost an argument with two portraits. It was about hats. I'm not sure anyone could have won.
The first jar of jam is almost empty. Anunu was right to pack the second, but you don't have to tell him I admitted it.
How is everyone? Have you started any of the new patterns?
Give everyone my love.
Oliver
I folded the parchment.
This time, I hadn't wondered whether anything important enough to write about had happened.
The start of the following week passed quickly.
Hermione found another passage about material transformations. During class, McGonagall paused at my desk, checked my work and praised my control. She didn't make a performance of it, but I noticed her examining the result for longer than usual.
On Tuesday, Draco and I practised again.
This time, we spent part of the session on movements I remembered from the fifth-years' duel. They had looked easy while I was watching. When I tried them myself, one required a greater change of stance than I'd noticed from the bench.
Draco caught me with a Disarming Charm before I could bring my wand around.
I stared at my empty hand.
"I need to think about that one."
Draco returned my wand, looking distinctly pleased.
"We can do it again."
"I'm sure."
"Several times, if you need to."
I wrote down a note before we went back to practising.
On Wednesday, we set off for another club meeting.
Draco wasn't scheduled to fight, but he wanted to watch. He was particularly interested in whether Fenwick would be duelling again.
Blaise suggested that the Hufflepuff ought to start charging for all the attention.
There was no crowd outside the room this time. An older student I recognised from previous meetings checked who was approaching and let people through in small groups.
Inside, though, it was already cramped. The new classroom was narrower than the last, with benches pushed close to the walls. At one end of the duelling area, spectators had to turn sideways to squeeze past each other.
Mara was speaking to two boys by the door. One left looking displeased before we reached her.
"I haven't got a duel for you tonight," she told me.
"I guessed."
"But I have a suggestion for next week. Stay behind afterwards, will you?"
Someone called to her from the benches. She turned, checked a name on the list and pointed the student towards a seat.
I nodded.
"I will."
Before the duels began, she asked for everyone's attention.
"From next week, you don't bring anyone new without asking first. That includes friends, cousins and anyone else you're willing to vouch for. They speak to me first."
Several people exchanged glances.
"If someone's already been approved, nothing changes. But knowing where we're meeting doesn't mean they can just walk in."
"What if they only want to watch?" someone at the back asked.
"They still have to come into the room."
A few people chuckled.
Mara waited for them to quieten down.
"I don't intend to explain to the teachers why fifty students are meeting in the evenings to throw spells at each other. Don't make this any harder."
Then she unfolded her list and called the first pair.
The first duel didn't last long.
Both students were fourth-years. The Hufflepuff moved more, trying to circle his opponent. The Ravenclaw took fewer steps and attacked less often, but chose his moments well.
Eventually, he caught his opponent with an Impediment Jinx during a change of direction and disarmed him before he could recover.
Draco watched the winner for a moment.
"Fenwick did something similar."
"Yes."
"I don't like that way of fighting."
"I'd noticed."
The second pair, however, caught my attention immediately.
A tall, dark-haired Gryffindor looked as though he was waiting for nothing but the signal. His opponent, another fourth-year, calmly took his place and raised his wand.
"Begin!"
"Expelliarmus!"
The Ravenclaw dodged.
"Impedimenta!"
He had to change direction.
"Depulso!"
The third attack came before he could settle his feet. He retreated, and the Gryffindor followed.
Not every spell was accurate. One passed well wide of his opponent's shoulder and struck the wall. Several spectators hurried away from the nearest bench.
"Watch where you're aiming!" Mara called.
The Gryffindor adjusted his position but didn't slow down.
The Ravenclaw tried to answer. His Impediment Jinx forced the attacker to dodge, briefly giving him a chance to regain some ground.
The Gryffindor attacked before he'd finished the step.
It was a risk. His footing was poor, and if the Ravenclaw had kept his aim, he might have hit him. Instead, he dodged again.
"He had him," Draco said.
"He could have tried."
"He'd have had to take that spell."
I looked again at where they had been standing.
Perhaps the opening hadn't been as inviting as it looked from the sidelines.
The Gryffindor cast another Depulso. The Ravenclaw jumped aside, then tried to circle around his left. He didn't finish the movement.
"Expelliarmus!"
His wand flew to the floor.
The winner only stopped at Mara's command. He was breathing hard but grinning broadly. He picked up his opponent's wand and returned it.
For a moment, I watched them both.
It wasn't a particularly economical way to fight. The Gryffindor had cast from awkward positions several times and left openings someone calmer might have exploited.
But his opponent hadn't had time to be calm.
"Interesting," I murmured.
Draco glanced at me.
"I know what you're thinking."
I didn't deny it.
There were several more interesting exchanges in the remaining duels. Mara stopped one fight when a student dodged over the line and almost landed among the spectators. Moving the bench took longer than deciding whether the duel should continue.
Blaise returned from the twins and sat beside us.
"Who's winning?"
"The bench, so far," Draco replied.
After the meeting, I stayed by the wall. Draco and Blaise agreed to wait farther along the corridor.
Mara first had to speak to two duellists and remind several students that standing in the doorway wasn't helping anyone leave discreetly.
Eventually, she came over.
"Peverell. Does next Wednesday suit you?"
"Yes. Who am I fighting?"
She nodded towards the tall Gryffindor, who was picking up his robes from a chair.
"Ewan Mercer. Fourth year."
I looked at him.
"From the second duel?"
"Yes."
I couldn't help smiling.
"I'm in."
Mara marked her list.
"He saw your fight with Rowe. He asked whether he could face you."
That gave me pause.
Until now, I'd mostly been thinking about whom I wanted to test myself against.
Mercer glanced our way. He must have guessed what we were discussing, because he raised his eyebrows in a silent question.
I nodded.
He answered with a brief smile.
Next week, I wouldn't be fighting someone who had simply agreed to take on a younger opponent.
Mercer had chosen me.