Bertie was totally in the swing of things now—he had learned most of his students’ names, had figured out which ones had difficulties with transfigurations vs the ones who didn’t,  and had settled down into a groove. It was a shame the school year was almost over; Adelebert was enjoying his work. It was ending too quickly, and he knew that his summer would be so boring with no real work to do. He could get started on several knitting projects, but he would’ve done that anyway.

As always, his classes were very hands on. His homework assignments usually consisted of presentations and projects that students had to work on throughout the week, outside of class. There were a few written assignments, but they were short. He had never been a strong reader and writer, and he felt like people should learn about spells and transfiguration through doing, rather than merely reading and writing about theories.

On his blackboard, there was a rather large, cartoony caricature of a dragon.  He was wearing some deep red robes with a small dragon on it that flew around knitting a sweater.

“Welcome, everyone! Your candle projects are due today; I expect them on my desk or in my office before dinner tonight.”[1] He clasped his hands together and looked around at the class, waiting for them to hand in their work and get settled.

---

If your student is arriving late, please clarify. Bertie's a bit strict when it comes to tardiness, and I think the students would've picked up on that by now. 

I also don't list the class roster-- but I do keep track of points in a word document.

1.	An assignment where he's given students different small objects and asked them to transfigure them into candles with their names written on the bottom

Bastian looked at his candle mournfully. Once a cucumber, its water content was a little high for a candle and would probably benefit from a little more work. It would also help if he hadn’t eaten some of it, both before attempting to transform it and after. How else was he supposed to know if he’d been successful? What if he’d only managed to turn the rind to wax, and all the insidey bits were string? It was a good thing too, although there was enough wax, he’d discovered its watery nature and hopefully he would be able to fix it before the end of the day.

Probably not. He would ask Esther to help him, no doubt her candle was as perfect as her hair. He waggled the candle and it wobbled despondently.

People were mostly in place by the time Bastian’s curiosity at the fascinating board markings overcame his ability to follow minor rules. “Sir, why are there dragons? Don’t they eat people?” He was eyeing the robes featuring a serenely knitting dragon, which was just unrealistic and probably produced by some no good dragon loving wishy washy propagandist. There were a lot of them these days, talking about how the dragons were dying of some disease and they needed Bastian's precious gold to get better. That didn't even make sense, everyone knew gold was poisonous!

It was kind of cute, though, so they were a successful propagandist. They’d probably convince Bastian to donate money to a charity dedicated to teaching dragons to knit.

“Did you draw the dragon? Is it a red herring?” It was quite good, not very realistic, but then, he was working with chalk on a blackboard so realism wasn’t too important. What was important was that dragon propaganda. There was no way that could end well.

Erin actually liked this subject slightly better than the others.  There were no excessively precise potions ingriedients to mix, no traing a talent she did not have, neither worry about what torture professor storm would come up with next nor did she have to worry about how various plants would affect her appearance.  Though that concern was both superficial and professional, it suited Erin rather well.  Though she did like it though, did not mean she could perform any better.  She had a green-cucumber shaped piece of wax right now.  Then somebody mentioned dragons.

"Did we step into magical creatures?  Why is everyone always obsessed with dragons?  Why not pixies or unicorns.  It sounds much safer.  Doesn't our school motto concern not tickling them?  I guess dragons do breathe fire though.  Speaking of fire, my candle has no wick.  Maybe a swish and a flick?  Any advice professor?" Erin half-rambled, half asked her stream of consciousness flowing from her mouth.

Having said what she needed to, Erin went back to trying to transform the cucumber-shaped wax into a candle.  Not that she was having much success.  She sighed.  She knew she could probably do this, if she could only, just then Erin noticed a shiny piece of silver.  It was laying on the floor, so she picked it up and started to play with it.  As her hyperactive mind reminded her that she was supposed to be transforming a cucumber into a candle, she tried to get back to the task at hand.  She was not having much success though.

Ambrose hadn't been having much luck with the candle assignment. When his friends had been parading round their efforts, or asking him how it was going, he'd said he was working on it, or he'd done it, but in truth he'd not managed it yet. His verbal attempts had caused a few of the usual explosions and a big waxy mess.

He averted his eyes and pretended to read a chapter of their Transfiguration text book instead while the Professor explained what they'd be doing during their lesson.

Bastian was meanwhile asking 101 questions about dragons, considering there's one on the blackboard. Though amongst it, Ambrose could help but feel a bit better about the fact his classmate's candle was limp.

Ambrose however, had a plan, to turn in a candle he had already scorched his name into - no transfiguration needed. It was one small homework, wasn't like he hadn't tried, but he was saving face.

Amara's candle had originally been a small porcelain cat with disturbingly big and hollow eyes. The pink tint of the ceramic had stubbornly refused to go away, despite Amara's best effort. So this is why her candle, the one she would've decidedly liked to be black, was now sporting a sickening blush pink shade. The Slytherin spent the better part of the beginning of class glowering at it and the tiny neat name written around the bottom of it.

That was until Desrosiers opened his mouth, spouting whatever nonsense lived and continuously bred inside his tiny troll brain. Herring, what? And only moments after, Dark and her particular brand of ignorance chirped in and never seemed to stop. Goodness...

"Why knitting?" she found herself asking with a baffled blink. Dragons and knitting simply didn't mix. Knitting shouldn't mix with anything, actually. Unless the needles were used to pierce skin. Could you knit flesh?

Winifred was in a good mood. She was getting better at wanded classes, so she didn't dread them as much as she used to. The Hufflepuff entered the Transfiguration classroom and plopped down next to Ambrose offering a bright smile. She looked up when the professor mentioned the candle project and frowned slightly. She had been working on it... But her objects didn't look like regular candles. Mostly she had waxy-objects shaped like the things they were originally. But she was trying. She would work on it some more before the project was due.

"My project didn't turn out so well," she said to Ambrose. "I forgot to bring it with me, even. What a way to start the day!" She dug into her bag, pulling out her text book and some parchment. She laid her wand across the desk and ran her fingers through her hair. The year was almost over. She was glad for it. All this work at the end of the year was hard.

She liked the professor's sweater. Knitting seemed fun. She was going to see if her aunt could teach her over the summer. She could knit sweaters for Fluffybutt! How fun!

True to form, Esther swanned into the room, chin buoyed by natural confidence and shoulders loose and carefree. It helped, of course, that some unlucky soul was trailing after her, arms full of her things on top of toiling under his own bag, which bulged a bit in places and suggested some sort of imbalance between his academics and his social life (possibly due to poor posture, or at least some lack of spine)—but that was irrelevant, particularly in the terms of her own good mood. Which, as one Slytherin had predicted, was as perfect as her hair.

Or rather, her candle, that is. Transfigured from a tube of lipstick that had clearly been out of season, it was now a single perfect candle, whole and smooth, not a hint of “Mauve Whispers” (or the shiny black of the cap) to be seen.

And if she had worked at it very– much harder than she was used to, even –well, that was no one’s business but her.

Spotting Bastian, Esther brightened and spun on her heels. “Thanks,” she beamed, snatching her books from him, and immediately turned around, heading on over. Bastian was having some trouble with the assignment, she remembered, and though she had tried to help she couldn’t for very long. She wondered how it turned out–

She stopped, suddenly, at the sight of it. When she started again, she did so much more slowly, and gingerly took a seat; the thing had been bitten. It wobbled.

“Bastian,” she tried, but it drowned beneath questions of knitting and comments on progress. Distracted, Esther twisted in her seat to better see what they were all talking about.

She winced; Dark’s was awful, but unless Ambrose and Winnie were just keeping theirs in their bags, they didn’t even have theirs.

Bathory’s, though... Esther turned around, suppressing a smile. The other girl was obviously good, one of the more advanced students of their year, that it was rare to see her have anything less than perfect. She was competition. For that, Esther took out her candle, unrolled it from the soft pink cloth she’d wrapped it in, and stood up from her seat to hand it over.

“Here, professor,” she chirped, holding it out, and smiled up at Bertie sweetly.

Ayla loved, loved, loved Professor Hughes, okay so not in the same way she had fallen completely head over heels in love with Professor Frasier, but he was probably one of her favourite Professor's right now. He was also kind of cute in his own quirky little way she supposed but that wasn't really something she spent much time thinking about. She also loved the subject, after charms Transfiguration was Ayla's next best subject. She was definitely good when it came to wand work (unless it was defending herself, but that could totally be because Professor Storm was the scariest person in the world, even He Who Must Not Be Named couldn't have been as frightening as their Defense Professor)

She sauntered into class and deposited herself on the other side of Ambrose from Winnie, absolutely beaming. She was proud of her work. She had managed to not only turn her wooden spoon into a candle but she had created a near perfect replica of a rainbow star candle Lexus had gotten her for her ninth birthday. With a flourish she removed it from her bag and placed it on her desk with a wide smile that faltered slightly when she noticed the sullen looks on both Ambrose and Winnie's face, "Sorry guys, I totally over did it, didn't I?"

She looked up when the Slytherin's started making noise. She pointedly rolled her eyes. She had no idea what Desrosiers was on about but then Dark opened her mouth and Ayla was tempted to jinx it shut. It wasn't so much that she didn't like Erin, she just didn't have a good track record with the Darks themselves and the girl's older sister crashing her birthday party still left a sour taste in her mouth two years later. She made note of Amara's well made candle. She had no real beef with the girl other than what house she was in but truth be told she was a little intimidated by her, the girl was just plain creepy.

Then there was Esther.

In another life, if they had been placed in the same house or if the girl hadn't been a snake there was a very, very good chance they would have become the best of friends, the two were almost identical in personality. However the fates had pitted them against each other and they seemed to also be competing for the best mark in the class and also for the Professor's favour. As Esther went right to the front to hand in her project with a sweet as sin smile Ayla pushed herself from her desk swept up her star and briskly joined her at the front.

She handed over her candle with an equally sweet smile, "All done Professor. I got the inspiration from a candle my cousin gave me once. Though this one doesn't have a piece of a charm bracelet at the bottom of each colour like that one had."

Ayla turned to Esther with an impossibly sweet smile, "Yours looks so good Esther! No way could you tell it used to be a tube of lip stick." Her tone was as sweet as her smile but both girls knew she had chosen her words specifically to throw off the other girl's game, try and make her think there was the ghost of a chance her transfiguration hadn't been complete. Mission accomplished she turned back to the Professor, "Love the Robes Professor H, who did them for you? I usually have my mom make all my stuff, she's kind of a famous fashion designer but it's no big deal. I can't get her work to move like that though." Ayla was extremely proud of her Mom, whose work had been featured all over Europe and prominently in Milan during Fashion Week, that she didn't even care if the Pureblood's thought she was a worthless Muggle.

It seemed that some of the students had their assignments, and brought them up to his desk. Some didn’t. “It’s not too late to turn them in!” Bertie clarified. “Have them in my office before dinner. That should be enough time. If it’s not incomplete—that is fine! Not getting full points is better than getting none at all!”

Bertie tilted his head in Bastian’s direction as the young Slytherin so enthusiastically spewed out questions.  “Those are dragons!” He exclaimed, motioning towards his robes with absolute pride, “And that dragon over there—“ He pointed to the blackboard, “I did draw him myself!” He wasn’t the best of artists, but at least he was good enough to draw something recognizable. He noticed that Bastian’s candle seemed to have a bite mark in it. “Looks like someone got hungry!” He joked, not even the least bit bothered at the idea of students eating candles.

Then, another Slytherin was asking for advice on getting a wick on her candle! “Well, Erin. Wicks are usually made out of braided cotton. It seems like you focused too much on the wax! That’s important too!  But don’t forget that candles are made of more than wax alone. You still have some time to finish your homework, but please wait til after class. We have something else to focus on today.”

“Why knitting?” He heard Amara inquire. He simply shrugged in response.

Ayla and Esther both handed their candles to him personally.  “Thankyouverymuch.” He nodded at them efore levitating the candles over to his desk.

“And now, we begin." Bert cleared his throat, "'Why knitting?', some of you asked. My answer to that is: Why not?” He pointed his wand at the chalkboard dragon and it made a groaning noise. “But the thing that has gotten your attention, is my dragon theme. Now why… Why would I have dragons everywhere, in a transfigurations class? It must be connected! And it is!”


"For today's spell, you need to face your target and slash--" Bertie’s copy ofIntermediate Transfiguration was laying on the ground in front of him. He slashed his wand at the book—“Draconifors!” He exclaimed. In a flash of fiery red light, the textbook had transformed into a small dragon. The professor swayed his wand back and forth and the dragon moved along with it, smoke coming out of it’s nostrils rhythmically. As he cast the spell, a speech bubble appeared above the chalkboard dragon with the word, 'Drconifors' written very carefully in it.

“The size of dragons transfigured with this spell depends on the size of the object it originated from. They are not as powerful or as dangerous as true dragons, but they’re great for impressing the ladies.” He wiggled his eyebrows comically at a portrait of a group of ladies knitting, and they all shook their heads at him, judging.

“It is easier to start with smaller objects, and work your way up to larger ones. Please do try to keep calm, these dragons are sensitive to the emotions of their creators!” They could spew out little bits of fire if the witch or wizard was skilled enough at Transfiguration.

 “Under each table is a box! Inside the box are items that you need to transfigure.” They were all approximately the same size, but no one item was the same. Most of them were in horrid pastel shades. "You may begin."

Because having a handful of fourteen-to-fifteen year olds in possession of a spell that could transmogrify objects into dragons at will was indeed a brilliant idea. Amara's face was stony and thin-lipped once Hughes was done with his... whatever that was, because an esteemed Hogwarts instructor responding to a student's question with why not, certainly spoke volumes about his capabilities.

She rolled her eyes and pulled some powder-blue round thing, the size of her fist, a vein twitching at the corner of her forehead. What in the name of Merlin was it with this man and pastels? Placing it on her desk, she slipped her wand from her holster and pointed it at the small object. With a long shuddering breath, eyes closed and concentration etched into her features, she quietly, but firmly intoned the spell and slashed shortly into the air.

With a little sigh, she attempted again seeing as the first time hadn't exactly been successful. And when she was pulling her wand back, her blue object had grown four legs, and wings and a tail and—it was still that vile shade of blue. The little dragon shook its body and looked up at her, almost mirroring her unimpressed look, but when the little pest flew up and had the nerve to bite her finger, however softly, Mara's other hand was swiftly occupied by their textbook and just like that with a sickening wet sound, she slammed her book over the desk, catching the blue dragon in between.

"Oops" she dead-panned, dropping her book down and leaning toward the box to grab another object. Please, Morgana, no more pastels.

Transfiguration was difficult. It was abstract and multifaceted and involved a number of factors at once, none of which were particularly easy to grasp. It was not one of Poppy's stronger classes. She'd managed to get by during her younger years, crafting careful essays and trying to curate every word she spoke when she raised her hand in the classroom, but during her Auntie Effie's brief tenure as interim Transfiguration Professor earlier in the school year she'd been discovered as a fraud. There was a lot about the subject that she simply didn't understand yet, and while quoting pretty passages from the textbook may have made her sound like she had half an idea what she was doing, it hadn't made it any easier to transfigure her decorative teaspoon into a functional candle. She hated that teaspoon. She was certain that it was mocking her. Frankly, she needed help, but she really couldn't be bothered. She hated to humble herself like that, though she was quite worried about what her parents might say when her end of term marks were sent home. The candle wasn't due until the end of the day anyway. That was plenty of time to learn the basic fundamentals of Transfiguration, right?

Oh, whatever.

If Poppy was feeling discouraged then it certainly didn't show. Her hair was piled neatly on the top of her head in a complicated looking sort of up-do, which had taken her longer to complete than any of the homework assignments she was actually prepared to hand in that day. She smiled and waved to just about everybody as she strutted into the classroom, omitting the one or two people who didn't deserve her attention this week. She looked as though she was thrilled to be in Transfiguration class. Internally she was panicking a bit about where to sit. She would have liked to sit on the other side of Esther, but she was afraid that the other Slytherin girl might make her look too dumb. Even so, it seemed that most of the Slytherins were sitting in the same general area today, so she daintily tip-toed her way through and took a seat. Sitting beside the brighter witch might not do her any favors, but at least she could copy from her if it came down to that.

“Your candle is beautiful, darling,” she whispered to her friend once she'd taken her seat again, trying to be discrete as Professor Hughes began to speak. She kept her eyes on the teacher even as she reached behind Esther's chair and gave Bastian a friendly little tap on the arm. Greetings out of the way, she was prepared to pay proper attention, crossing one leg over the other and sitting up straight in her chair, like the perfect pupil.

The transfiguration they were working on today sounded... erm... challenging. That was an understatement, of course. If she couldn't turn a teaspoon into a candle then how could she be expected to accomplish animate transfiguration? There wasn't a chance she'd succeed. Merlin, she was reluctant to so much as make an attempt!

 Her skinny arm shot up in the air and wiggled a bit, and though she was tiny, it was impossible to ignore. “Professor? Excuse me, professor?” she called out in a sing-song, her back ramrod straight, her eyes wide and innocent. “Apart from impressing the ladies, which doesn't quite interest me, what practical purpose does this serve?” she asked. “I can understand why I might need a candle in a pinch, but this seems a touch frivolous, don't you think?” she asked with an indulgent smile, her eyebrows raised. “I'm happy to participate, but I'd just like to understand.”

The fine art of Transfiguration may have been beyond her at present, but the art of stalling? Nailed it.

Students had questions already, and they had barely started!

“Apart from impressing the ladies, which doesn't quite interest me, what practical purpose does this serve?"

Bertie’s eyes crinkled up as he smiled, “Well, Poppy! Besides impressing ladies, the practical purpose for this would be dueling. When you become particularly skilled at animated transfigurations, the dragon can be strong. Not as strong as a real dragon, but much more tame. It's a dragon that is under your command." And he wasn't finished.

"Imagine transfiguring a bed into a dragon. You could use it to hide behind to avoid spells.  It would also be a good distraction in a tight situation.” His little dragon flew around the classroom and then landed on his shoulders. It laid down around Bertie’s neck much like a cat, but less fluffy and much more scratchy.

“But most importantly, this spell takes you a step closer to more advanced transfiguration that may seem more practical.” Bertie tilted his head to the side, “And, if I remember correctly, in 1994, this spell was used to create miniature dragons to represent the dragons that each champion would face.” He motioned towards the box under Poppy's table. "Now, you try."

He noticed that Amara had managed to transfigure her object into a tiny dragon.

“Three points to Slytherin—“ She then proceeded to smash it with a textbook. “Wh—what?! Did that—did that just happen?" The professor's voice cracked slightly.  "No no. I’m not rewarding you for animal cruelty. Thirteen points from Slytherin. And you clean up that… mess. Talk to me after class.”  Though it was likely that the dragon transfigured partially back to it’s original form, he was still disturbed. At least these weren’t real creatures.

---

Edited to add "talk to me after class" for Amara, and to fix typos/formatting issues

“Dueling, professor?” Poppy asked, her eyebrows still arched high up on her forehead as she continued to smile at him, now a touch ruefully. “Isn't that a bit...” she trailed off, lifting one hand up next to her head and gesturing vaguely, “Well, you know, don't you? A bit... gruesome? Violent? Masculine?” She wrinkled up her nose and gave her head a good shake. No, no, - she'd have none of that dueling nonsense. She laughed. “I'd have more luck impressing the ladies!” She sighed a soft sigh as the teacher continued, but if he intended to convince her that it would be worthwhile to embarrass herself in front of the class, he'd fallen quite short.

“In 1994 I couldn't have cared a whit more about this spell than I do now,” she muttered under her breath once Professor Hughes had moved on, setting her wand gently on the table in front of her as she went to retrieve an object from the box below her seat. The fact that she hadn't yet been born in 1994 didn't help matters – it only cemented her point in her mind. This lesson was clearly outdated! One day she was sure they'd learn something useful, but today was simply not that day.

And as if things couldn't get any more ridiculous and absurd, when she reached into her box, what should she pull out but... a decorative teaspoon? She'd spent all week attempting to transfigure a decorative teaspoon! This one was a bit different than the one she'd been working on for homework – gilded in some kind of peach colored ceramic with a ridiculous filigree handle – but it was a teaspoon all the same. All she could see when she looked at it was the candle she hadn't managed to transfigure. And when she, halfheartedly, slashed her wand in the direction of the spoon and daintily pronounced the incantation (a more gentile approach, she'd tell you) the spoon transfigured itself into a lovely...

dragon candle... with a filigree tail.

Well, wasn't that convenient?! Now she had a candle?! Naturally! It didn't appear to be moving, even when she poked  at it. With one swift, very intentional swipe of her arm she carefully knocked the candle off of her desk and into the school bag at her feet, bending down at the same time to retrieve the other teaspoon from within, which was still neither dragon nor candle. Well, at least she had an assignment to hand in this evening! Popping back up, she carefully replaced the imposter teaspoon on the desk. She had to stop thinking about candles! This was maddening!

The professor mentioned something about knitting, and dragons.  Erin sometimes really wondered why people wanted to make more dragons.  Weren't they in preserves for a reason?  Too useful to force extinction, but far too deadly to actually be domesticated.  Not really thinking anything for it, Erin attempted to transfigure her textbook into a winged reptile.  She somehow managed to transfigure her book into a dragon head that immiediatly started darting its eyes around the room.  Erin wondered if thats what she was like.  Always moving, never focussing on one thing, and failing to accomplish whatever she needed had originally set out to do.

As Erin tried one more time, this time she got a headless, wingless, reptilian.  This amused Erin more than it should have.  Flicking her wand once more, her dragon was near complete without the head.  Unfortunately, her book quite literally took off, searching the skies for...whatever books turned into dragons looked for.   Figuring she should probably stop that before it got out of hand, she ended the spell with a finite incantem.

Erin did notice Poppy transform her teaspoon into a dragon candle, but did not say anything about it.  No reason to get classmates in trouble after all.  Still, there was one thing about this entire thing that bugged Erin.

"So...yeah, dragons.  Why is it always dragons?" she asked to no one in particular, her previous tangent coming to the forefront of her mind.

Upon the interruption, Esther glanced to the side, the movement slight but genteel.

Ayla. If there was a word that could sufficiently convey the amount of disdain Esther had for the girl, she had yet to find it. Ayla, to Esther, was obviously pretty and capable, and a good student. But she was also annoying, in that she seemed to think she was in Esther’s league, which was more insulting than anything else.

At Ayla’s clumsy jab, Esther merely lifted a brow; anyone with eyes could see that her candle was perfect. If that was what looked like a tube of lipstick to the other girl, then clearly she was beyond hope. Actually, if that was what passed for a candle in the Hufflepuff’s eyes, then no wonder Xavier Tawse had dumped her.

Esther gave her cute, friendly grin—and totally judged her for the teacher’s compliment. There was flattery, and then there was that. Offering Bert a quick, pleased smile, the Slytherin went back to her seat, leaving her classmate for better company.

She was just settling in again, smoothing out her skirt (and shooting Poppy a grateful look), when Bert began, revealing the lesson for the day. She perked up, interest giving those dark eyes a shine; a spell that turned things into dragons? Even if they wouldn’t be very big– were, in fact, quite like lizards –the idea was still thrilling, something to send a heady buzz of anticipation coursing through one’s veins (even as the very idea set off all her internal alarms). If their size was dependent on the conservation of mass, then…

Sharing a look with her friends, Esther bit back a smile and looked down at her hands.

She remained impassive, composed, as Poppy turned up her nose at dueling; it was one of the few things she sharply differed from her friends, even those closest, but it was a difference of opinions everyone was okay with, or at least respected. (Certainly she was very good at dueling.) Once they were given the signal to begin, she picked up the box. And pulled out… a soap dish? A kitten soap dish, complete with arching feline and poking rear. Frowning ever so slightly– and, maybe, a little scandalized behind that polite, if slightly bemused expression –Esther inspected it. It was a cheap, kitschy turquoise, with streaky brown stripes and poorly painted eyes.

She set it down, exasperated. Turning it into a dragon would be an improvement. Drawing her wand, she carefully aimed, and–

Twitched under the thud of Amara’s textbook, a startled expression crossing her features before twisting in dismay. Thirteen points! Even if it was really only ten, that was still a lot. Esther forced herself to turn around. Eyes closed, she took a deep, bracing breath. She could make it up, she could. Perhaps not all of it, but–

Eyes flashing open, she slashed, “Draconifors!”

A flash of red light, then—a dragon! Like the soap dish, it was an awful shade of turquoise, with awful brown stripes and orange, wide-set eyes that almost made it look twee. But...

Unlike the soap dish, it looked quite nice now. The colors took on a softer tone, appearing more natural than eyesore now that it was on moving skin, and although it was a bit stout around the chest the little dragon still quite lithe, with a long, graceful neck and a whip-like tail. Save for the coloring, it was inarguably an Opaleye.[1] Looking even more satisfied than before, Esther offered the creature her forearm, willing it to climb on—and it did. Esther smiled radiantly; perfect. “Professor!” she called as it pulled itself onto her shoulder, exuding an almost palpable air of satisfaction. Giddy with success, she looked over then, curious to see how Bastian was doing–

And saw. And sighed, “Bastian,” but a smile crept onto her face despite herself.

1.	Antipodean Opaleye