Leopold sat behind his desk, watching as the NEWT students filed in.  They seemed prone to sit in groups segregated by their source school although there were notable exceptions.  He smiled and nodded as they entered, matching names to faces with the facility of a seasoned teacher.

"Take your seats quickly please,"  he said.  "This class is four times the size it would normally be, thanks to our honoured guests.  I'm sure many of you are hoping you might learn something here that may help you with the tournament trails.  I'll try not to disappoint.  We'll be covering the Chaining Spell today."  He chuckled.  "I'll be needing a volunteer from each school."

Heinrich Faust raised his hand.  "I'll gladly volunteer for Durmstrang, Herr Professor,"  he said.

"Thank you, Mr Faust.  Please step forward."  Leopold indicated a point on the floor, which Heinrich quickly occupied, standing at rapt attention.  "Do I have any other volunteers?"  the old professor asked.  "Before I am forced to select some voluntolds?"

Figaro had, like many of his fellow sixth years, been prompty awoken to the reality that even with the O.W.L.s behind them, life as a N.E.W.T.-level student was the big leagues.  Figaro had spent all of his spare time yesterday studying with Sasha Schlagenweit, but the classes and essays and revision never seemed to quit.

At least Figaro was resiliently unflappable, flippant and forgetful in the face of his many responsibilities.  If you left it to the last minute, it only took a minute.

He was chattering happily with friends as he came into class, and still finishing up with a whisper as the Hufflepuff Head of House had them all get their butts in chairs promptly.  It was crowded, but like so many things about Hogwarts, there seemed to be just enough space...  Figaro leaned forward on his desk, but he was still looking over his shoulder back at a friend even as Professor Sandusky was getting started.

"Me!"  Figaro wasn't even sure what he'd just volunteered for!  But he was out of his seat and trotting forward to join Faust from Durmstrang up front.

He grinned impudently at 'Old Dusty' and crossed his arms ready to go.

(I am assuming this took place on the 1st then? If not, someone please let me know so I can reflect recent events)

Cécile arrived early to Transfiguration as it was a class she thoroughly enjoyed, especially when it came to the art of Animagi. She wondered if they were going to discuss it at all in class this year and made a mental note to ask the professor to perhaps tutor her in Animagus magic. It wasn't that her professors at Beauxbaton couldn't, they were more than qualified, but she didn't want there to be a chance that, should she manage to master the skill, that word would get back to her mother. Manon took anything done without her explicit permission as betrayal and would likely accuse Cécile of plotting behind her back. It never made home visits very welcoming when her mother was in one of her moods.

So when the teacher asked for volunteers, Cécile considered raising her hand. Normally she wasn't one to enjoy being in the spotlight, but he was asking for students from all of the schools... and she really would like to show off a few of her skills. There were already rumors going around about the skill level of the French students and she wanted to prove them at least a little wrong. So after the Durmstrang and Hogwarts students volunteered, the former with impeccable manners and the latter with enviable enthusiasm, Cécile raised her own hand. "I'll represent Beauxbaton, Monsieur, if that is alright?" She stood and made her way to the pair up front. Standing next to the Hogwarts boy, who she assumed was going to be the friendlier of the two, Cécile gave both boys a quick smile in greeting and a nod of her head before turning back to the classroom. It was odd standing up there... like they were lining up to be executed.

Tailing a few of her friends as they filed into the room, Gracie, for the most part, kept quiet, preferring to hang back as they chatted in low tones. Instead she looked around, green eyes like cut glass as she oh so casually glanced at the man seated at head desk.

For years, Transfiguration had always been one of her best subjects—the best, if the hush-hush triumph of two weeks ago[1] was anything to go by; while a particular Salemite’s mum had done what she could to help the girl out, most of the work had been done on her own. Hell, she’d gotten an O for her OWL feck-easily, hadn’t she? It had always come easily to her, even since first year. NEWT-wise, she was pretty effing sure she had the whole thing in the bag-

Problem was, she was still making up her mind about the new Transfiguration professor, a portly old man who looked like he’d left his clothes back in the Muggle North Pole. In the sixteenth century.

The past month or so, she had to admit, Leopold Sandusky hadn’t really done anything similar to what she had heard of his other classes—nothing like the sheer trollshite she’d heard about concerning Naomi, anyway, once she’d been able to wheedle the story from a few select fourth years and one Tracy Jones (who had eyes like a puppy and ears like a vacuum). He had yet to pull anything like that on her class… which was good for him because there had been an ominous ripple of dissent from some of the older Slytherins; the younger girl’s cool-under-geriatric-bluster exit had been met with grins and smirks of approval, but hadn’t erased the dark looks shared by those who had personal ties to the fourth years involved.

Like Gracie.

Calmly—and with a decided lack of flourish and noise—the girl in question slipped into a seat, the rattle ‘n rustle of bags being dropped, opened, and emptied of their contents masking the creaking of her chair. Perhaps not so innocently, she eyed Sandusky with clinical interest, as one would an ordinary sheep that, as rumors had it, sometimes demonstrated rabid tendencies, but didn’t quite believe it.

Her expression a level stare of indifference, Gracie waited for the professor to get on with the lesson already.

   

1.	My, Girl, What Big Teeth You Have

Oh joyous day! Glorious exaltation! This was surely the kingdom of heaven, the glorious days of which it was written where everything was perfect and wonderful. Who would have thought that it would be transfiguration that would lead Church upon the righteous path.

Wait, he had this all wrong. It was more like the most boring and tedious thing he'd ever had the displeasure of sitting through, and he couldn't wait until it was over he loathed it so much. If it was a sin to hate, the Church was gladly welcoming the supposed fire of hell because anything was better than this. Honestly. Transfiguration was never really a class that had caused a great stirring in his loins, but it was also never a he dreaded going to. It was simply easy for him, just like charms, and the coursework often bored him. That said, he usually enjoyed the previous professors since they were actually interesting... or knew what they were talking about. Not to say that Sandusky didn't, but... no that's pretty much exactly what Church was saying. The problem was that being a child of both worlds and having a very strong grasp of modern day science gave him a sort of insight to how the wizarding world worked. And Sandusky had an extremely archaic outlook on things that simply made him sound ignorant. He also had this ridiculous cheerleading aspect to him that simply annoyed a dark cynic like Church. The entire "if you believe you can do anything" attitude was disgusting and flawed. Church often argued that you could believe all you bloody well wanted that you can breathe or even survive in space without an apparatus, it still wouldn't stop you from dying.

Well now wasn't really the time to worry about such things, now was the time to find a good sleep where he could not pay attention the entire class. Preferably in the back, behind someone who would cover for him.

Oh wonderful. Gracie. She would do nicely.

Without a word to anyone in the class Church slithered his way to the desk directly behind Gracie's and sat down, dumping the required materials onto his desk in the sloppiest way possible. Not that he really cared, he just wanted to look like he was interested. With that done he leaned forwards, "Do me a favor, snow leopard," Church whispered to her. "Wake me up in case anything interesting happens," not that that was likely, "I'm gonna catch some zee's."

Not really, of course. While Church would love nothing more than to catch up on some sleep, he was still head boy. Which meant he still had a responsibility to be attentive enough to flex his authority or help Sandusky keep the class inline should he so need it. Although he did imagine the prefects able to cope with it. Regardless, even though Church had little respect for the man, he did at least respect the position. So it was probably more accurate to say he would be sitting back, only half paying attention at the most with a look of sheer boredom upon his face.

But even then it never hurt to have a wingman to snap him out of it, thus Gracie.

Like his fellow classmates, Sasha filed into the Transfiguration and took his usual seat: front row, seat closest to the window.  He withdrew his supplies from his bag, taking a bit more care in the process than some of his slightly noisier classmates.  He set his book on the corner of his desk, a fresh scroll of parchment right in front of him and a well of ink and a quill at his right hand. 

The last couple weeks, there'd been rumors and comments flying through the student body about the new Transfiguration professor.  But, Sasha had been careful to steer clear of any such drama or gossip.  He simply didn't have time for such things and being on a staff member's bad side was among many of the blunders of the previous year he was hoping to avoid.  He already suspected he was walking on thin ice with the man.  Sandusky was Hufflepuff's Head of House; by all outward appearances, Hufflepuff seemed to be the pro-werewolf house.  Sasha's own stance - and his conflict with several of the Hufflepuffs was probably not lost on the man. 

Sasha didn't need to give him any further reason to question his integrity as a solid student or a prefect.  Not to mention, Sasha simply didn't have time to worry about anything beyond the class material and homework. 

Sandusky called for volunteers and Faust, Figaro and a Beauxbatons student stepped forward.  Sasha turned his attention to the group and readied his quill, prepared to take whatever notes arose.

The apathy that pervaded their classroom atmosphere today was bordering on being palpable.

Raine had dropped into a seat in the second row, just behind Schlawkward, landing her satchel noisily onto the wooden desk. Maurice was very fortunately not in it this time. The cat had disappeared after breakfast and was unlikely to make an appearance until dinner, when she could furnish him with nourishment.

It was crowded, unsurprisingly. The Gryffindor glanced behind at some of her classmates as she methodically retrieved the usual utensils. Wand, clipped together parchments that formed a makeshift notepad and her eagle feather quill. Chatter indicated typical spirits but it was hard to ignore some sour expressions in the group... Sandusky inspired a fan club of sorts, from what she could tell.

"Do us proud, Sellaphix..." Raine muttered wryly as the Hufflepuff made his way to the front of the room. She couldn't help herself. If the visitors were involved, it was important that their school measured up. The redhead leaned back, tucking her quill behind her ear and frowning as the class began.

Alex had always thought that one of the most important factors in whether or not you liked a lesson was the teacher. In Transfiguration, she had been proved right, because the new teacher seemed to be some kind of punishment visited upon the students by the Headmaster, and what had previously been a subject she enjoyed had turned into hellish tedium. Sauntering to the back of the classroom, she sat next to the window, wondering if this strange lesson format was some kind of attempt to force the students into enthusiasm through competition.

Maybe not, that would involve teaching ability: one thing she was certain he didn't have. It was the dreaded Hufflepuff curse, the claim that enthusiasm was all you needed to succeed. Disproved by Sandusky, as he had it and yet failed miserably in his task of inspiring young minds.

Drumming her fingers on the table, she watched Figaro- Figaro! Why was he representing Hogwarts? It was a confederacy of Hufflepuffs!- go to the front, along with a Beauxbatons girl and some guy from Durmstrang. Nice to have a surname based in myth, although personally Alex would rather be a Mephistopheles than a Faust. Much more enigmatic, at least in the play. And "Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it," actually seemed like a very good description of her present situation, if a little melodramatic.

Actually, based on his appearance, Sandusky could have been alive when that was written.

It was way too early in the damn morning for this shit. Transfiguration used to be a class he enjoyed, one he put at least some effort in. But no, Tawse, whom Seto enjoyed, had to go MIA and get replaced with Dusty. It was annoying beyond belief. The class just took to much effort to stay in, let alone awake or even paying attention. It was nightmarish trying to sit through this class.

But on the plus side, Dusty didn't seem sharp enough to split the classes up. Thus there were a massive number of NEWT students that Seto could hide behind and simply mess around for the entire duration. It would probably come back to bite him in the ass, but Seto honestly could care less.

Sulking heavily Seto dragged himself into the class room and plopped himself into an empty desk in the back of the room. Not paying much attention, it came as a pleasant surprise seeing he wound up next to Alex. "Sup cutie?" he asked in a very monotonous tone. "Ready to be bored senseless? Whaddya say to skippin' and takin' another dip in the lake?" Seto gave the Ravenclaw a little wink.

Anything to get her to take her clothes off again.

Mace, slouched in his desk with one leg crossed underneath, contemplated how the Brits were going to continue to sorta not impress. Mace had a knack for transfiguration so he found the subject easy. Leaves into spider webs, twigs into barbed wire, capuchin monkeys into cappuccino machines, full bottles into empty bottles. What could he say, it was a gift. Class at Hogwarts had yet to challenge him. But admittedly in his boredom he hadn't always paid attention.

When he did pay attention Mace noticed that volunteers from each of the schools were asked for. Making tournament like events even in everyday class. After a pause where no other SWIM-ers took the charge (maybe they were still getting over sudden onset araichnophobia) Mace raised his wand.

"Need a fourth? Right on, then." Mace eased out if his seat.

"Excellent!,"  Leopold said, rubbing his hands together.  "Spread out a little please.   I want to make certain everyone can see this.  The chaining spell is a defensive transfiguration.  The incantation is Manicarcerous, with the emphasis on the first and third syllable.  If I'd had any idea as to what the first task was, I would have taught this earlier, because it would have come in handy."

He turned and looked at his four volunteers.  "The Manicarcerous spell is a derivative of the Incarcerous spell.  Please note the difference in pronunciation.  Trying to cast it as  Manincarcerous will result in a dismal failure.  Pay attention to how the chain produced by the spell reacts."

Leopold looked at Heinrich.  "Mr Faust, if you would stand with your legs slightly apart?  Thank you.  Manicarcerous!" 

Leopold flicked his wand.  Chains, appearing from nowhere, wrapped around Heinrich in a whirl of clattering iron.  They spun around him like a metallic hurricane, surrounding and binding him.  There was one final loud 'clank' as the chains shackled themselves to his wrists and ankles, turning him into an iron wrapped mummy.

"Can you move, Mr Faust?"  Leopold asked.

Heinrich struggled for a moment.  "I can move my legs a little,"  he answered finally.  "Given a minute or so I think I could get my legs free."

"Exactly,"  Leopold said, nodding.  "Because your legs were apart, you have some mobility if you move them closer together.  Eventually you could shift the chains sufficiently to free yourself.  Sadly, your wrists and ankles would still be shackled, which means you would have to either break them, dispel them, drag them or wait for the spell to expire.  The more proficient the caster, the longer the spell will last."  With a flick of his wand, the professor dismissed the chains, freeing Heinrich.  "You may take your seat, Mr Faust.  Now, watch the difference when I maintain control of the spell after it has been cast."

He turned to Figaro.  "Mr Sellaphix, five points for Hufflepuff for volunteering.  When I cast the spell, feel free to wriggle.  Notice how the chains adapt to his movements, tightening and loosening to maintain complete encapsulation.  Manicarcerous!"

This time the chains wrapped around Figaro but instead of just settling onto him and stopping, they continued to undulate and shift, like an enormous iron snake.

Figaro should have known better, that even Old Dusty could be a damn warlock if he wanted to.  Soon enough, Heinrich was free and Figaro was being told to brace himself and wiggle - if he could.

There were some giggles, and he smiled and shrugged, ready as he would be.  But he wasn't exactly prepared.

The chains were hard and cold and they were tight! He felt them pulling on his clothing as they wrapped around him.  Despite materializing out of thin air, they felt as solid as the iron railings found along some staircases.  It was instantly kind of horrible.  If he wasn't in a classroom surrounded by familiar faces, he might have felt panicked.  And honestly, he kind of was.

He'd begun squirming straight away, trying to find some room, some slack to move anything.  But his elbows, fingers, knees, ankles - everything was tight tight tight, and just getting tighter.  He could hear the chains clinking slowly as they found more room.  He laughed with surprise and nervous energy as he struggled.

"Uh ha ha," he laughed, "I feel like a burrito...Ngh!"

With his feet so close together, and his struggling, he felt likely to fall over.  He laughed again, as he had to do a little hop not to topple.

Taryn sat on the floor, her back against the wall and a notebook propped on one knee. She could've enlarged a desk, sure, but she'd already broken three in the last two weeks and didn't care to add to the running total. Besides, sitting on the floor put her at just under head level for the rest of the class, so she didn't block anyone's view.

The room's overall tension was palpable. Taryn, not being a rumor sponge like Tracy, didn't know exactly why, but even she could pick up on it. It orbited the teacher like water down a drain.

When volunteers were called she kept her mouth shut. It wasn't that she minded being a demonstration guinea pig. Even the weirdest shows usually turned out fun. But the last time she'd volunteered for that, the charm had bounced off and hit some poor girl in the front row, who got a concussion falling into the next desk. So she was glad when Mace volunteered instead, and lowered her quill to the page for notes.

The Chaining Spell was conjuration-binding, like her Lariat. Good, this'd be easier for her then. Conjuration and Transformation were the half of Transfiguration that she understood. But the more she watched the Hufflepuff kid struggle against the squirming chains, the queasier she got about the whole thing. It just didn't seem natural, and it brought back uncomfortable memories of getting stuck in little places her muggle classmates dared her to enter, like drain pipes and the spaces between old buildings.

"Uh, Prof?" she spoke up, wincing sympathetically as the Hufflepuff nearly fell. "Is this really necessary? I mean...couldn'tcha at least sit him down or something? He's gonna crack his skull at this rate."

He honestly couldn't care less about transfiguration anymore. It was at one time or another one of his favorite subjects, some of the conjuration spells being incredibly useful. But this teacher was just... unsavory. And now that Vex had completed his tour of duty in the tournament, it wasn't like he really had much to lose by goofing off. Which is how he came up with his most recent absurd idea. You see, Vex now figured he could get through most classes, transfiguration in particular, with his own studying. And not having to worry about being thrown out of the tournament already, it seemed like a good opportunity to push the envelope on what he could get away with.

And thus Vex was acting overly enthusiastic. Like, so overly enthusiastic that it rivaled insanity.

Vex was late to class, though barely. Even still, he made it just in time to see Mace volunteer for something. Shame he was late, Vex would have loved to have been the volunteer if only to mess with the experiment. Still, with face stretched tight from an overly wide smile, Vex found his seat.

He was pondering just exactly how to be obnoxious and over enthusiastic when the old man used a conjuration spell on the volunteers. Perfect, that would work. Just as Taryn finished, Vex slapped his palms upon his desk and lept to his feet.

"Two things!" Vex shouted, still holding his wide smile. "First! I agree with Taryn! Second! Are we going to discuss Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration? Tell us about Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration!" Not that he really needed to be informed about Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. But really that was the only opening he had and Vex decided to seize it.

As Tracy watched the proceedings, the boy sank a little further into his seat, broad shoulders slumping with a quiet sigh; the subdued look on his face wasn’t one of boredom, but resignation. A month had passed since their first class, and it still hadn’t got any better.

Despite his good intentions, the professor was a sinkpit for all sorts of bad vibes, a legit beacon of ill will that’d have ‘made dolls humming and glass bottles thrashing in the breeze, the kind drawn up behind a hundred curses and would a hundred more. All around him Tracy could count the number of discontented faces on two hands… and would need more to go on; no one—not even his own students—seemed to think much of him. It was enough to throw a sensitive guy like him off his game.

Not for the first time, Tracy wished, albeit with some amount of chagrin, that Professor Valdaine was the one doing the teaching and not Sandusky; this, he was pretty sure of, wouldn’t have happened. She would have been well-liked by his classmates. In contrast, the guy was nice enough to them, yeah, but on the other hand he was the reason why the Salem boy had arranged for Naomi Foley to make up her studies elsewhere in the first place—specifically Professor Valdaine herself.

It wasn’t the kind of thing he was proud of, undermining a teacher, but when Tracy felt that he could do something, he did it… even if, technically speaking, it wasn’t ‘right’ by some standards.

So when his good buddy Vex made his opinions known just before he could second Taryn’s suggestion, of course that had wrangled a surprised laugh from the class president—which was quickly muffled, but by then it was too late. Even as he bowed his head, shaking it slightly as he half-covered his face with one hand, there was no mistaking that upward twitch o’ the lips; the bitten-back grin was still brilliant against dark skin. Trust the guy to do something his way…