Sanaa was looking forward to today’s first and second year lesson; she had been reading Muggle fairy tales by Hans Christian Anderson to her niece over the short holiday and she had recognised one story. That story was the basis of the day’s lesson.
It didn’t take long before the noise of the students waiting outside reached a crescendo, forcing Sanaa to open the classroom door and let them file in.
“Everyone please take a seat today.” Sanaa waited until everyone had taken a seat before smiling and perching on the edge of her desk.
“Over the holidays I was reading some Muggle fairy tales. Has anybody heard of the story called ‘The Emperor’s New Clothes’ by Hans Christian Anderson?” Sanaa waited to see if any hands were raised before smiling and continuing. “The story is about two scoundrels who convinced an Emperor that they could create a cloth that to people who were stupid and incompetent was invisible. Actually this story was based on events that happened in Denmark in the Wizarding World and was then misunderstood and embellished in the Muggle World.” Sanaa quickly scanned the class to make sure the students were listening before continuing.
“The real story was that two brothers called Thrane, invented the spell to change cloth into clothing and opened a store to sell this new product. However, they soon noticed that the spell did not last much longer than an hour even with Fixing Spells and on one memorable occasion a wizard from the upper classes in Denmark wore an entire outfit made from this spell and an hour into a ball held for the King of Denmark’s birthday his entire outfit vanished leaving him dancing naked. Unluckily for the brothers Thrane he was a very important wizard and they had to leave the country very quickly.”
“So today I am going to teach you the spell that will change cloth into clothing.” Sanaa waved her wand over a box at her feet and pieces of scrap cloth in a variety of colours and fabrics flew to the students’ desks.
“The spell is fairly simple, as the length of time the fabric stays as clothes depends on how much power you put behind it. I can reach the full hour and maybe a little more with fixing spells, but I do not expect anybody in your two years to even reach 15 minutes, as your magical power hasn’t matured yet. The incantation is ‘Armarium’ and you say it as you touch the middle of the fabric with your wand. What item of clothing you create is based on what you are imagining at the time.”
Sanaa pulled out her wand and held up a piece of cloth to demonstrate. “Armarium.” Sanaa touched her wand to the cloth and the cloth wiggled before expanding and forming a robe. Sanaa stood up and put the robe on. “You can work in pairs but I want you to transfigure your own piece of cloth. Begin.”
Subthreads:
Cinderella (tag: a boy) by Holly Greer
Yay! Fairy tales! by Jera Valson with Grayson Wright, Jera
Holly did not understand the point of creating clothes that were unlikely to last even an hour - even the fairy godmother's magic (and this was quite clearly a series of transfigurations, Holly realized with a start) for Cinderella lasted until midnight and Holly was quite sure the prince's ball had begun earlier than 11pm - but she supposed that was why it was a first and second year level spell and not one being taught to the older years. Perhaps at a higher level there was a different version of the spell that could last five or six hours which would be somewhat more practical.
But she got to design her own dress, even if it was only going to last for a few minutes, and that made the lesson ever so much better than just about any other one she could imagine, impractical or not.
She looked at the piece of cloth given to her and frowned in distaste. It was a wretched red color. Far too vibrant for her taste, and of a horrid flannel material. Holly strongly preferred pastels of much more delicate fabrics. She looked to her right and sighed at the unfairness of it all.
"Trade you," she offered to the boy sitting there, who had the enviable good fortune of having a perfectly lovely bit of pink satin land in front of him.
1Holly GreerCinderella (tag: a boy)123Holly Greer05
Always eager to learn, Jera arrived early, as usual, outside the transfigurations classroom. She was disappointed that she couldn't go in the room immediately and start setting out her books, but had to wait until amlost the entire class was standing outside before Professor Sutekh let them in. Still, once she was in the classroom, Jera headed for her usual spot near the fron of the class, and arrnaged her books and parchment out on her desk, pausing to wonder why there was some red satin there, while the other students chose their seats and chatted a bit. But not for long, because it was only a minute or so before Professor Sutekh started the lesson.
Still quite young for her eleven years, Jera enjoyed a good fairy tale as much, if not more, than the next, perhaps slightly younger child. She hadn't heard the Muggle tale of the Emperor's new clothes, but it did sound a bit like the Tale of the Foolish Muggles that her Bunicã told her. She was delighted to know the tale was based on events in real life; but then, as she understood it, most fairy tales and legends were based on things that had really happened. Besides, it explained the red satin on her desk, without a doubt.
Jera diligently took notes as her Professor talked, stopping to watch the spell demonstration. She did vaguely wonder what the point of such a spell was, but then if you needed a different outfit just for a half our or so, maybe for an interview, or to run out in the rain between buildings, then she anticipated it maybe had its uses.
Putting aside her books for the moment and withdrawing her wand, Jera eyed the scarlet fabric with some trepidation. She'd never really owned anything made of material quite like that. She'd worn a nice set of robes or two in the past, usually for her relatives' birthday, and such like, but usually her parents left her behind when they attended parties, and that in itself was a rare enough occurance. Jera's robes were made of all natural fabrics, and natural dyes, the same as the clothes her parents wore. They didn't believe in these synthetic fabrics or bright colors that might harm the environment. Of course some fancy spell work could brighten things up from time to time, but really, there wasn't a great deal of point in wearing showy-off clothes without anyone to show off to.
Nevertheless, there was a certain charm to the shiny, flowing fabric on her desk. Jera ran some of it through her fingers, and she liked its smooth, cool feel. Without her awareness of the fact, Jera started to smile. "I think I'll make a skirt," she said quietly, but aloud. "A real party skirt like the older girls wear."
It only took a moment for Jera to realise that she had been overheard, and she blushed accordingly. "But that's if it works, right?" she said to the student who was now probably suitably amused with her babblings.
Gray tried coming up with a list of reasons for there to be a bolt of yellow cotton on his usual desk, but couldn't get one that made sense. He'd seen his mother sew before, so he knew there was no magical component to that, and there were few other uses for random pieces of cloth.
It was a nice shade of yellow, though. What would the name for it be? He was mulling that over when Professor Sutekh, not one to waste much of a lesson, began the class and got his attention unshakably fixed on her when she uttered the word 'story'. So involved in the little narrative was Gray that he forgot to take notes over it. And people said that Muggles and Magimuggle relations had nothing to offer! His cousin's love of Muggle literature was making sense to him now, though he doubted these - fairy tales, had she called them? he hadn't heard anything about a fairy - were in the books she read.
Upon hearing they'd be trying the spell out for themselves, Gray's mind immediately leapt to uses for it. When Bethany, Danny, and Aunt Tabitha's kids all came over, it was common for them to stage impromptou plays. If he showed this spell to Anne, or she already knew it, she could make any costume they needed now that she was seventeen and could legally do magic at home. His mother couldn't object to her collection of tablecloths being used when they would only stay clothes for an hour at the most.
He grinned to himself as he began searching through his bag for his wand, which had apparently decided to head straight for the bottom again. This would be the greatest summer ever.
For the moment, though, he thought he'd better focus on an object a little less complex and frivolous. He remembered, albeit vaguely, his mom taking him to the National Magical Storytelling Festival the year California hosted it and he was about five. All the speakers had worn black robes with vests or smocks over them to go with their stories. He was going to try to make a vest like that.
He was considering which story to use - it would have to be cheery, with a yellow piece of cloth - when the girl in the seat beside him spoke about making a party skirt. He looked up from his contemplative study of his desktop and adjusted his glasses even though they didn't need it. "That's nice," he said. "I'm gonna, uh, make a storytelling vest."
Then, for some reason, she blushed. Why would she do that? Had he said something wrong? He couldn't think of anything off the top of his head, but with his limited knowledge of anything social... "But that's if it works, right?" she said, and he happily concluded he hadn't done anything too awful if she was still talking to him.
"Yeah," he said with a short, nervous-sounding laugh. Gray wasn't feeling especially nervous, but he'd noticed he had a way of laughing as though he were. It was like trying to tell jokes, or sound serious: he always intended for it to come out one way, and it usually really did come out quite another. He was pretty much used to it by now. Then, since he was pretty sure she wasn't in his year and he'd heard a few relatives say it was polite to introduce oneself to an unknown individual one ended up talking to, "I'm Gray," he said. "Gray Wright. Second year." He saw no need to put in his House, since that was on his robes for anyone to see.
16Grayson WrightFun for all ages!113Grayson Wright05
Once Jera had gotten over the fact that she'd spoken aloud unintentionally and been heard doing so, what the boy said registered with her. He was going to make a storytelling vest? Jera wasn't sure what one of those was, but it sounded excellent.
The boy introduced himself as Gray, and Jera, looking at him properly for the first time, realized she recognized him, and not just from classes. "Yes," she said in excitement, unaware it wasn't perhaps the right thing to say. "You're in Aladren," she said, "I mean, I am, too. I've seen you in the commons. I'm Jera Valson."
Having given perhaps the most disjointed introduction ever, Jera was far too deep in the realms of self-dismay to even consider being flustered. "And I'm not often this unusual," she said, beginning to doubt the truth of it. She was still threading the silky red fabric though her fingertips, her books arranged parallel and at perfect right angles to each other on the desk below the material. It could be that she was a little unusual, but that might not necessarily be a bad thing.
"What's a storytelling vest?" Jera asked suddenly, aiming to sate her curiosity before she could turn her attention to the task at hand and actually concentrate on the class assignment. After all, she was anxious to make a shiny red skirt, the likes of which she wouldn't ever own in normal circumstances.
Jera...That meant something, but he couldn't remember what. Something from Anne's Bookcase of Dreams. Maybe it had been the name of a character in one of her Muggle novels; Gray's attempts to read those had ended after the fifth one he had only made it a few chapters into because he couldn't figure out what the characters were talking about. Cars he'd heard of, but what on earth was a 'telephone'?
"Nice - nice meeting you," he said. Hearing that she'd seen him in the commons to know him was surprising; he had never thought of himself as a particularly noticeable person. The small size of his House did make it more likely, though. He thought, now that he thought of it, that he might have been able to pick her out as an Aladren if called upon to do so.
"And 'sokay," he added to Jera's assertion that she wasn't usually unusual. She hadn't done anything that struck Gray as particularly strange, but it had seemed like the remark called for a response. He'd gotten much better at noticing that kind of thing since he'd entered Sonora. "I do that - uh - sometimes, too."
"What's a storytelling vest?"
Gray gathered up some of his yellow cotton in one hand and tried to think how to explain. "There's this, uh, this big festival every year," he explained. "For storytellers. The festival moves every year - I saw it once. The people wear black, and they have these long vests over their robes for their different stories - something to set a mood or cause a mental image." He didn't notice that his way of speaking had changed. "I'll have to pick a yellow story - I mean, a happy story, to go with a yellow piece of cloth." Frowning slightly, he let the cloth slide back through his hand and caught the end of it between his fingers. "Haven't decided which story, though."