Elliot Tanner and the World's Curse

The World's Curse

Elliot walked through his parent's garden back in Bootle. The cool breeze danced over his legs and arms, but he didn't mind. He ran his hands through the hyacinth bushes as the overpowering smell of roses washed over him. He always thought that everything in Bootle was more. It was as though the rest of the world was a bit duller, blander, and quieter. The breeze over his skin was sharper and cleaner, hinting of the sea without overpowering him. The sky was a shade more blue, the world a degree brighter. Even the pungent smell of the garden was something you could almost feel on your tongue.

For all the magic of London, Hogwarts, and the rest of the Wizarding World, nothing compared to Bootle. Amit would say that nostalgia was a hell of a drug, but Elliot knew better. Nostalgia always disappointed in the end but not Bootle. Not this place.

And not this day.

Elliot smiled freely and often. The furrowed brow that his mother would tease him for was gone. Without the noise of the castle and the city, without ten dozen eyes on him, Elliot felt his steps were lighter and more graceful. The wind danced in his long and flowing hair, and he laughed. He paused and put it up into a bun effortlessly, enjoying the feel of the curls in his hands. Another breeze ran over his arms, and he rubbed them to warm himself. His skin was smooth and soft, but the smell of lavender distracted him. From deep inside, laughter ripped through him. Not the embarrassing donkey laugh he sometimes did when he was nervous. This was light and melodious, like his being was a song, and that song was lighter than the breeze. He imagined the breeze carrying it off to the stars, though he knew that was impossible.

He laughed again. The day was making him a poet.

A stray hair tickled his ear, and no matter how many times he tucked it away, it came undone on this windy day. He tried to redo the bun, but when that didn't work, he sighed and settled for a ponytail. That didn't work either. Frustrated, he moved to one of the ponds to look at his reflection so he could do it right.

As Elliot leaned over the water, she smiled at what she saw. At first, she feared it would be Olivia Snarzle's face on her body again. But no. It was her ice blue eyes and dark brown hair, long and curly in a messy ponytail cocked to one side. Her sleeveless white blouse rippled in the breeze, and her skirt danced along with it. She watched the dark pleats of it with delight and did a little twirl, losing sight of herself for just a moment.

When she returned to fix her hair, the slender face and full lips of her face morphed. At first, they swelled as though she'd been stung like a bee. But then her face erupted with hair. She watched as a beard grew instantaneously and didn't stop. The hair on her head shrank, and her blouse twisted into a heavy hoodie to cover her body.

Elliot tried to scream, but nothing came out. The colours in the reflection dimmed, and the smell of lavender and rose, of honeysuckle and hyacinth, vanished. The world went to a Hogwarts's grey. His skirt became the same baggy pair of pants he wore everyday to class. His body stretched as though he was in a cartoon and someone had shoved a hose down his throat. Bloated and bubbling, he grew a foot taller and two feet wider.

Then came more hair. Not just his beard or the hair on his head. But hair on his back, on his knuckles, and on his chest grew and grew. They went beyond their normal proportions, growing like weeds in sped up animation. Back hair sprouted from the neck of his shirt. Arm hair shot out of the sleeves. And not just hair where he would expect it. Hair sprouted from his forehead, from his palms, from his knees and elbows. Hair on hair on hair until it wasn't Elliot Tanner in the pool but a wild and fat bear in Elliot Tanner's clothes.