Apples to Cocoa PV A. Vanes

Cy sighed.

Well, the reaction was appropriate in her opinion. Children were so very familiar with the herding into classrooms, the lectures delivered to half-asleep brains, the automatic scratching of quills and pens and pencils - how unfortunate it was that they had begun to correlate learning with that, with the boring drudgery of copying notes and memorizing vocabulary. And, well, she would know.

But nobody was a lost cause, of course. Clearly he was not completely uninterested in the field. Clearly she could try to snag his interest in it with some effort. "Alan, m'dear," Cy began, allowing just a hint of exasperation mingled with concern creep into her voice, formalities be damned - if she wouldn't care what the students called her, why should they care so much what she called them? Ahem. "Just because you're not in class doesn't mean I can't teach and you can't learn - I'm a professor twenty-four seven, not only while there are students required to be sitting in my classroom. You learned from me demonstrating that transformation, didn't you? Transfiguration isn't limited to the classroom, or to homework. If you really want to know about something that you're interested in, you go after it yourself."

Who would have thought that Cypresse Lian, the girl with more detentions without suspension or banishment than humanly possible, the one who flouted the rules like a cat shied from water, might end up in such a position... in a position convincing another to stay for what she'd have considered boring at the time? But she was grateful for the magic theory that she'd been forced to sit through in her years. She had been happy that Aoi had urged her to stay on track and not, well, run into the Whomping Willow for an adventure or something. It said something about what Ravenclaws valued behind perfect O's and heads buried in books.

"You know what - come on, go on. Give it your best shot. And it's perfectly all right if you don't know the answer. Again, recap, we want to change this circle made of nickel - " the young woman waved toward the general direction of the drawing, not certain as to where it had ended up and consequently pointing about two feet left of the target - "into a circle made of zinc, but change nothing else about it. What happens? How do the atoms move?"

♫

Alan did not know what he was supposed to do after being called a deer, was that meant nice or not? He just furrowed his brows and started to think what kind of similarity he and a deer could possibly have, but he could not come to a conclusion and had to give up. He remembered getting a nickname by another boy, his name was Kae and he called him Land, but that at least made some sort of sense. It was pretty similar to his name, but still Alan would like to know what was the reason behind that nickname. A sigh and a gentle shake of his head to get rid off the stray thoughts later, he concentrated on the professors words again.

”I mean, I am interested but I prefer practical stuff so much more, Miss Lian. For example I am pretty good at the Conmutocus Spell now, I can even make a needle that isn't bending now!”, he explained a bit proud of himself. It took a lot of concentration, something the young Gryffindor often failed to keep up.

When she asked him again, he nervously shuffled around. ”U-uhm... So the atoms change because they each need more protons on their... o-outer shell? I think two m-more each?”, he tried, even though it sounded more like a question than a definite answer. He remembered reading about it, however he was not good with facts and memory.

Accomplishment was a sweet thing on her tongue. At least she'd coaxed some thought and an answer out of him, and more spell practice was always great, especially when students took it upon themselves to do it without being told or required. Everyone loved spells and learning spells, and almost nobody liked to be lectured on magic theory, however much she tried to interest them as she was interested herself. What most students didn't know, what she hadn't understood back in the day until later years, was that theory and practice were not separate—quite the opposite, actually.

 "One thing that you have to understand, Alan," Cy began, hands already rising to empty a box of matchsticks into her hand, "is that you can't only focus on practical aspects of Transfiguration if you don't know the theory. You might be able to get away with this—conmutocus!—right now," the matchstick melted into the form of a perfect sewing needle, gleaming  and silver, "but you won't be able to cast any spells like this—avifors!—later." The needle had taken the shape of a little chickadee, hopping around her desk for a mere couple of seconds before another wave of her wand returned it to its original shape of a matchstick.

"Think of it this way. Magic  is like... a computer—wait, you're not a Muggle, never mind. Magic is more like a... let's  compare it to a quill, shall we? It's not a perfect analogy, but it'll do. Right, so a quill. If you have a quill, you can write with it, you can use it to convey a meaning. But even though you have a quill, you still have to know what to write; it won't do the writing for you.

"And if you can't write, the quill is pretty useless—just a feather and some ink. You can scribble all you want, but you won't be able to do anything unless you understand what you're trying to do. You have to know the alphabet, the words, the rules of the sentences you're trying to use. Does that make sense? Magic is a tool."

Maybe a little more wordy and difficult to explain than originally intended, but she'd explained well enough without being able to use her usual example of a computer—it would be there, but you or at least somebody would need to code it, to tell it what to do. That would be a better metaphor, in her opinion, but a quill would do just fine. Her main point was the last sentence: magic was a tool. "If you don't know theory, it's like you don't know the words, and you won't be able to write. You can probably draw some basic letters if you know the alphabet, but the alphabet can only take you so far—sooner or later you'll have to start making words and sentences, and if you don't know words, you can't do it.

"And that's why I asked you that question, and congratulations, you're correct. The electrons on the outer shell are also called valence electrons; you don't need to know that yet but you'll probably remember this when I teach it to you later on. Only thing is—electrons, Alan, not protons. Protons and neutrons are the things in the center of the atom, the electrons are the things on the outside. Really, if you did try to think more, maybe you'd find theory more interesting. Why don't you try conmutocus on this matchstick right here?"

♫

Alan was not sure whether to glare or to frown at all the extra stuff he was doing at the moment, worst of all in theory. He did not need theory lectures, he knew they were important which was the only reason he was paying some kind of attention in the class or well he tried. He tried a lot, because he was just so short with his attention span that was difficult especially when it was about something as boring as History of Magic. He did not like that subject no matter how important it seemed to be, it was mostly boring because there were nearly no spells taught.

It was happening, he was zoning out and staring blankly at the professor after she mentioned that Magic is a tool. He began to think about how much really was possible with magic. There was so much good they could do, yet Alan also liked to do stuff himself, manually without the help of Magic. He liked both using magic for some stuff, but also doing stuff without using any magic at all. He remembered helping his cousins to wash a dog once and it was fun. The two of them ended up completely soaked in bubbles but the dog seemed satisfied and was barking happily.

The Gryffindor blinked when she was asking him something. ”Uh... so transform it, yeah? Yeah. Can do that yeah...”, he muttered, a blush spreading on his cheek with an embarrassed smirk. He took his wand from the holster around his left wrist and used the movement he had been taught in class last year, while muttering the incantation.

His mind focusing on the small matchstick. At first he began to imagine how the rough and brittle textures changed and how the texture became smooth, polished even and cold to the touch. A straight irony object that narrowed towards one of the ends, where the tip of the matchstick had been he imagined it to get pointy; if it made skin contact it would probably break the skin, so pointy would the iron be and it would have the small loop at the opposite end for the yarn and when Alan opened his eyes to look at what he created, he frowned slightly, stepping over to the matchstick – now needle. It was not perfect looking, slightly bend around the loop, yet it was straight enough to actually be useful for sewing without causing too much of a problem.

Cy grinned as the characteristic ping of wood shifting into metal reached her ears. Reaching out, she tapped the table a few times with her palm until she found the cold ridge of metal beneath her skin. Her fingers closed around it, lifting it enough to feel its shape. "Very nice job," she murmured, pausing as she reached the bent end, going over it a couple of times. "So I'm guessing your needles bend a lot? Like, it's a recurring problem when you cast? You said something about it earlier."

That was a pretty common problem, actually, with the shape of the needle affecting the tail end of the transformation. The switch of material was easy enough to understand, especially into a single alloy or metal, but sometimes change in shape could be tricky, especially with so much room for error. She'd gotten the opposite problem when she was younger, with the tip curving into more of a centimeter-long blade than a single point, but it wasn't uncommon for a bend to happen. "People usually don't bend the needle if there's a problem with the incantation or gesture, probably why you've gotten a lot better with practice, especially if it's the end that's bending and not the tip.

"Bends don't happen because of the actual transfiguration or how it's done. Essentially, your spell is perfect. It happens when you project too much power onto the object, so the material starts getting distorted with the aftershocks of magic. You can just get rid of it by practicing, which will make you less anxious before casting the spell, but a faster way is just to calm down." She picked up her wand from where she'd dropped it on the desk, placing down the needle in front of her and quickly untransfiguring it nonverbally. "Just take a few breaths first, it's just another time you try to transform this needle into a match, or vice versa. And - conmutocus!" The needle flashed and thickened back into wood, red material folding over the tip.

She shrugged, pushing the match back to the young Gryffindor. "I'm not saying you're nervous or anything, but everyone has some kind of anxiousness before casting a spell. It's just in that moment right before you cast, like right before you take a jump or before you do something risky. If you're not used to it your brain just goes into fight-or-flight immediately, which is something you use for things in DADA but not in small spells like this. I can tell you more about that if you want, or not if you're not interested or want to hear about something else. Give it a try again, but try not to tense up."

The young Gryffindor would shrug and when he noticed that there was no reaction, because Cypresse could not see it; he awkwardly coughed. ”Well yeah, I do have a problem with lack of control over the magic; but I am a wizard it should not be that difficult!”, he said with a small sigh. He raised a hand, making his robes rustle softly as the fabric brushed against fabric and brushed back his hair with the tips of his fingers.

Alan shook his head slightly. ”It's okay, professor. I will practice in my dorm because I can relax there”, he explained with a lightly forced smile. He would hate the pressure of casting a spell he had problems with in front of the professor, which is why he just wanted to go. ”Good day, professor! And thank you for your help”, he said with a honest smile, before turning to leave her office and if she would not stop him he would just walk through that curtain. On his way he would pocket the wand into the pocket of his robes and stared at the chocolate bar in his hand. ”One question more... will the transfiguration end at one point or is the bar safe for consumption?”

Cy grinned again at the Gryffindor boy's forlorn outburst, fighting the urge to chuckle. It was a kind of frustration that she was accustomed to seeing in spellcasting classes, especially hers, in which the spells required such finesse that it was difficult to see the progress you made until you looked back on it.

"You'll get there," she consoled him. "You might be a wizard, but every wizard or witch is at different levels when they first start casting. You've only been learning this for, like, a year! Control isn't innate. You're not born with it. It's something you learn, and the people that are better than you at it now probably just spent more time on it. I mean, I had almost straight D's in Transfiguration in my first year, and look where I am now."

The message probably wouldn't go through the first time. It didn't for her. It took her a long time to understand that, and even then, probably less time than the typical child - her parents had been toxic, that much she knew, but that didn't mean they taught her nothing. Regardless, she was pretty sure that Alan wasn't just saying he'd practice in his dorm to get out of actually practicing.

"Run along, then," she began to say, but stopped to listen to his inquiry. "The chocolate should be fine," Cy assured him. "I transformed it from food, so it'll stay food. That's one of the weird things about Gamp's Law. Now, go practice, and you can show me how much you improved the next class. Have fun!"

Alan left the Thread, unless Stopped