Knowledge is Power

Chapter 6

The rest of her first evening at Hogwarts was basically uneventful for Mag. In other words the book on runes she was reading interested her more than any of her class mates. After dinner she retired directly to her dorm room and after arranging her things, settled onto the bed with her book. She very much liked runes and was fascinated by all the magical possibilities they held. Anything from powerful written spells to protections and wards to divining. Runes were ancient and ancient magics drew Mag's interest the most.

For his part Nightshade landed on the rail at the end of her bed and made himself comfortable preening his feathers much as he did at home. Mag's dorm mates left them both alone which was fine with them. Mag had a few friends around her own age, but she'd known them since early childhood. Their parents were friends with hers and they all worked together at the Ministry for Magic. When they had get togethers the children had their own as well, sharing books and magical ideas or playing games. Those friends were a year or two younger than Mag so wouldn't be starting at Hogwarts with her this year.

The next morning Nightshade was grumpy and at first unwilling to wake up and come down to breakfast with Mag.
//Why can't you just let me sleep/,/ he thought into her mind grumpily.
//Because I want your company and you'll be bored when you do wake up if you don't come along,// she reasoned, then lifted him off the bed rail. Seeing that she really was planning to carry him, the owl made a sound of annoyance in his throat and landed on her shoulder.
"Ouch," Mag cried. He'd tried to be careful with his claws, but they were long and sharp for hunting and not conducive to sitting on someone's shoulder.
//Sorry forgot,// he thought and flew along behind her instead as she left the Slytherin dorms and headed up to the great hall for breakfast.

As she ate Mag worked up a spell to put on his claws to keep them from tearing into her robes and then consequently her shoulder. The spell worked as sort of air caps on the ends of the claws keeping them from touching anything. She thought of it as a barrier spell because it kept a small amount of space between the claws and anything else. She promised to remove the spell whenever and if ever the owl actually went hunting and that stopped his complaining.

She fed him sausages from her plate and potatoes as well, all the while wondering why he'd need to hunt when he apparently fancied her food so much. Though he could read her mind, the owl didn't bother to comment. Classes were relatively interesting until transfigurations. They had to turn a match box into a mouse, a thing Mag believed should be impossible as a match box was an inanimate object and a mouse was alive. One couldn't simply make life from a bloody match box, so when she followed the instructions of the grim old lady professor and the match box actually turned into a mouse that moved Mag experienced true horror. The fact it was moving in such a life like way was terrifying to her! When the mouse twitched its tail and it's little nose and whiskers, she felt sick to her stomach with the wrongness of it.

Not one to cry, it was nonetheless somehow a struggle not to burst into tears of horror and upset. She got through the rest of the class somehow, mind focused on what her parents had told her. If she had a problem she should go to Professor Snape or professor Flitwick. As professor Snape was her head of house, she'd start with him. Perhaps he could explain why creating life...freakish life from a match box was allowed in the first place!

//And besides,// she mentally burst out to Nightshade. //Who would want to do such a thing in the first place?//
The bird cocked his head thoughtfully.
//Apparently Professor McGonagall,// he replied dryly, obviously not that bothered by the entire thing.

Mag hadn't intended to cry. She really hadn't, and by the time she'd gotten out of transfigurations and through the crowds of Hogwarts students, or stupids as Nightshade called them, to the dungeon, the tears had stopped. That was good because she never cried. She wasn't that emotional. It was stupid and pointless, but this was just so wrong on so many levels, she supposed her emotions just hadn't known how to react.

She waited pensively while Professor Snape explained a potions assignment to a Gryffindor forth year. He was fittingly sarcastic to the boy because the prat was being thick. By the time the professor finished with him she was smiling. The Gryffindor moved past her and she stepped up to Professor Snape's desk. He had cheered her without even intending to, but she still needed to talk this thing out.

"Yes, Miss Westcraven?"
"It's just..." she began and the cursed tears started again. NOOOOOO! How stupid she must seem. But...It was just so wrong! The flicker of alarm in his dark eyes only caused the tears to flow harder, because she was alarmed too!

"I...I hate it! I can't do it! Can't I just not take the stupid class," she pleaded. "Or substitute it for another? It shouldn't move! We shouldn't be able to turn inaniment objects into things that move!"

Professor Snape surprised her when he supplied several seconds of silence in which he looked thoughtful and nearly sympathetic. The former expression she'd seen on his face a few times but the later, never.
"I hated that class myself," he admitted after a moment, giving a slight understanding smile. "Now...do keep in mind that crying won't solve anything," he added, sounding so uncomfortable that she smiled through her tears and struggled to catch her breath.

"I'm sorry," she said, properly embarrassed.
Hastily she wiped at her eyes with a sleeve of her Slytherin school robe.

"I'm not saying that you're wrong, just that unfortunately you have to do your best to learn it anyway. I can't get you out of the class. It is useful if disturbing at times. Rest assured, though, that you aren't truly creating life, Miss WestCraven."

"So if someone cuts open the stupid mouse it won't have mouse guts," she asked hopefully. Her heart sank at Professor Snape's fleetingly doubtful expression.
"I don't think so," he answered carefully. "I mean it's just a construct. If transfiguring things to create life really worked, no one would buy their pets," he said, nodding at her owl, who'd landed on the back of the nearest empty chair. "They'd simply transfigure an old empty bottle into a frog or an owl or whatever they wanted. Or perhaps those students who can't get a date could merely transfigure a wardrobe into their perfect match. Believe me if creating life were possible such would be the case far too frequently."

She sighed, feeling a bit better if no less disturbed. "Thank you," she said reluctantly.
"But I'll still hate doing it, though," she couldn't help insisting.

Professor Snape laughed. "I'm sure you will."He regarded her for a moment, that thoughtful expression on his face again.
"There are, unfortunately, many things in life that you will hate doing, Miss WestCraven, and still many of them will require doing nonetheless."