Chapter 41: Fake news, your news are fake

"Congratulations on making the team, by the way," Harry told Cedric once they'd exited the Potions classroom. He received a grimace and a non-committal hum. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Something wrong?"

Cedric shook his head but looked a bit pale, a bit too pale, even if one considered they'd just spent more than an hour breathing in some nasty fumes. "Well," he started, before cutting himself off. "You weren't at breakfast, were you?"

Harry shook his head, "No, I just dropped by the kitchens, what did I miss?"

"The prophet is still talking about the werewolf attack. Some kids were turned," the boy said, causing Harry to recoil from the news.

"Fuck. Children," he muttered and contemplated for a few brief seconds on how horrible it must be to suddenly be afflicted by a curse as severe as lycanthropy. It must have been unimaginably painful.

"It's reminding people of the war," Penny said as she came up behind them, having stayed behind to discuss something with Slughorn. "Werewolves would kill the parents and turn the children. It's one of the reasons why Professor Potter is so famous, he beat Fenrir Greyback, the leader of the pack." Harry thought he remembered something like that in the newspapers he'd read last Christmas break when visiting the archives of the Daily Prophet.

"Is he in Azkaban, then?" Harry asked, only for Penny to shake her head, not seeming all too sure.

"I think he's dead." Cedric eventually muttered. "Anyway. It's hard to be happy about being on the quidditch team right now."

"I get it," Harry said as they filed into the transfiguration classroom, where they found oddly melted-together objects present on their desks. They seemed to have been Transfiguration attempts gone awry, he idly poked at the one in front of him, which seemed to be half apple half pen, before sitting down.

"Oh, Slughorn wanted me to give you this," Penny suddenly said from beside him and handed him a note. Harry took the yellowed parchment, opened it and read what it was, while his friends read along over his shoulders.

"I heard about those," Penny said with some jealousy as they finished reading the invitation to a gathering of the Slug Club Friday evening, for Halloween. Harry shoved the piece of parchment into his pocket and grasped the failed Transfiguration in his hand, trying to see if he could feel the magic being used to upkeep its odd state of being. He failed.

"I don't know if I'll go," he muttered as he tried again, only to fail again.

"Why not, it's an excuse to go to a party for adults," Cedric prompted as he rested his head on his arm. Harry considered how to tell the boy that parties for adults, especially academic ones, were less fun than the fake little parties sometimes thrown for children, where they were allowed to eat too many sweets and drink fake champagne. The only acceptable situation in which he would bother going, and had bothered going in his last life, was if he had a partner who could make the night interesting.

"It's just going to be a bunch of idiots kissing their own ass and wearing masks, why was I even invited?" he complained, at which point Cedric and Penny shared an awkward look.

"We didn't really know how to tell you, but don't you think that the atmosphere has been a bit tense?" Penny asked.

"What do you mean?" Harry looked up and turned around to check the room. They were sharing today's class with Ravenclaw, and as he looked he couldn't help but notice how a lot of them were whispering to each other while throwing him dark looks.

"What's their problem?" He snorted, "You'd think the sting of realisation coming from being dumbasses, despite being in the supposed house of knowledge, would wear off after a year," he said, not having in particular much good to say about the bronze and blue house. They were mostly jealous of his accomplishments, thought he ought to have been sorted with them, or were just dumb in general. Turns out sorting people into the smart house made them less smart since they then thought they needed to work less hard, due to their status as intelligent already being secured by their house. Ravenclaw students were the child equivalent of those adults who tried to appear as if they were working a lot, so they could brag about it, but who weren't actually accomplishing anything.

"Well, it was slowly coming out anyway. What you did in Charms and Arithmancy, but there was an article today," Penny said diplomatically.

Harry blinked and stared at her with a tilted head, "An article?"

"In the Prophet," Cedric elucidated kindly.

"What did it say?" Harry asked with furrowed brows. His two friends shared another, meaning-laden look before Penny sighed and started rummaging around in her bag. She pulled out some miscellaneous Potions ingredients but eventually settled on handing Harry a crumpled edition of the Daily Prophet.

Harry violently opened the newspaper, thanked Merlin that he wasn't on the front page, but cursed, loudly, when he found his face looking back at him somewhere in the middle. His arrogant and disinterested demeanour looked at the reader, occasionally frowning, scowling, or leering disapprovingly. Harry recognized the background to have been somewhere in the ministry, probably the chamber that he ended up having been tested in for his advancement.

"That piece of shit frog-bitch," he muttered as he started reading, which only worsened his mood.

Favouritism at Hogwarts

by Blimpep Bokkums

Harry Evans is the name of the Hogwarts student who was recently allowed to skip one grade in Charms and two in Arithmancy. What might surprise readers is the fact that Mr. Evans is a muggle-born, making it questionable how he got to the necessary level of magical skill, after only being exposed to magic for one year. No staff from Hogwarts has been available to comment.

The first question we would like to pose to the Hogwarts staff, led by the venerable, but aged Albus Dumbledore, is how a first-year student can be granted the privileges usually reserved for third-years and up…

Harry stopped reading in disgust and put the newspaper down. "What a load of dog shit," he complained to his two friends. "Advancing isn't a privilege you're granted based on your age, but a reward you get based on your accomplishments," he said and stuck the paper into his satchel, just in case he wanted to read it later.

He looked around after his friends didn't answer and saw that they were both looking to the front of the classroom, where McGonagall was standing and looking pointedly at him. She cleared her throat once she saw that she'd gotten his attention. Then she started the lesson without a preamble, stalking in front of the blackboard as she spoke.

"Considering that we finished revising last year's material last week, we shall now focus on the untransfiguration spell. As the name states it is a spell that reverses the effects of what we are practising in this class, which will become increasingly important later on. Now, can anyone tell me the name of the spell and why it will be increasingly relevant?" she asked the room with an expectant look.

Harry didn't usually raise his hand when others did, and considering that he was taking this class with Ravenclaws he technically could have gone the whole year without doing so once. However, considering that McGonagall had refrained from deducting house-points from Hufflepuff, something that she would have been completely in her right to, considering his inattention, he decided to do it as a form of gratitude. The other students never got the questions completely correct, which necessitated them expounding on the answers.

"Mr. Evans," McGonagall prompted stiffly with an expectant face after he'd put his arm up, to some surprise from Penny, who had long since managed to find the pattern to his class participation. Charms yes, Transfiguration no.

"The incantation of the untransfiguration spell is called reparifarge and the wand movement is a simple cup. The spell wasn't as important last year because we didn't work on anything organic, except for one class. However, considering the increased presence of the subject during our remaining tenure at Hogwarts, the ability to revert our efforts becomes increasingly important. Leaving a functioning rabbit head attached to a foot-stool is irresponsible, dangerous due to the instability of an unintentional change like that, and also needlessly cruel towards the false facsimile of life we have created," he explained succinctly, causing the professor to blink and process, before nodding.

"Well put," she complimented but refrained from awarding house points. She turned towards her desk, which had an elaborate bronze lamp with a green cover on it. It wasn't usually there and its purpose was revealed as the professor cast the spell they'd been discussing at the object, reverting it back into its presumably original shape, which was a crystal goblet. She turned back to the class.

"Now, on your desk you will see apples in various stages of botched transfiguration. It's easier to learn the spell when one knows what the original form is. Currently, you can use visualisation to aid you. The goal of today's class is the reversal of an object that you do not know the origins of. For that purpose I will be going around and switching out what you're practising on as you complete the first step," McGonagall announced, before going towards an occupied table at which a student had raised their hand to ask a question.

Harry focused on his applepen abomination and brought up his wand, he considered for a moment if he should bother with the visualisation step, considering the end goal was to not need it, before deciding that he trusted his professor. She probably included this part because it was helpful, also, even at the later stages, he could maybe at least visualise the current appearance of the object melting away, so to say. He cast the spell, getting one perfectly red apple out of the exchange. He'd visualised and used the incantation and the wand movement. He was done waiting around. His duel with Tonks had taught him several things, one of which had been the fact that Transfiguration could be an important part of a fight and that his snakes weren't up to the challenge.

McGonagall walked past his table, saw that he was done, again, did not award Hufflepuff any house-points and twitched her wand, a pillow zoomed in from somewhere and landed on his table. Harry cast the untransfiguration spell again under the professor's watchful gaze but failed this time. She didn't comment but continued onwards to make her rounds.

It wasn't until 20 minutes later that Harry succeeded in turning the pillow back into a small rock. There had been a particular twist that he'd needed to add to his magic as it came out of his wand and it felt like the pillow had resisted its reversal more than the applepen. Perhaps the applepen had simply realised what kind of abomination it had been and had wanted to leave that state as soon as possible. The spell was not overly easy, Harry realised. Or rather, it wasn't something that he was so practised in yet. He definitely wouldn't be able to cast it in the middle of a duel on a moving target, like he would have needed to do in his bout with Tonks.

He idly waved his wand at the stone now occupying space in front of him and changed it into a large green snake, which just coiled around itself and hissed. A girl's shriek came from his left and he turned around to find Cedric clutching at his heart, reminiscent of a shocked grandmother.

"Bloody hell, warn a bloke, will you?" the boy hissed, eyeing the serpent warily.

"Sorry, "Harry murmured as he bopped the snake on its head, easily turning it back into a stone. He frowned as he realised that it was much too easy to untransfigure what one had done in the first place. It wasn't decent practice.

He looked around the room and saw that barely anyone had even finished the first assignment. He thought back to how he'd been told last year that the professors were more likely to offer him advanced work in classes since they could now trust his work ethic. He hadn't wanted to bring attention to this in the past, content to simply work on his own stuff instead, but reparifargo seemed like a necessary spell to master. Why shouldn't he take advantage of his professor in this case? He raised his hand and McGonagall arrived at his table, looking at his completed untransfiguration with some interest.

"Exemplary as always, Mr. Evans," she teased with a slight smile, as she floated Cedric another pillow. He'd completed the first part second overall, which made sense considering that he would have been the champion of Hogwarts in another time and another place. "Three points for Hufflepuff," the professor said, thus signalling that she forgave him for his initial distractedness. Harry nodded his head.

"Professor, I want to continue practising the spell. Can I receive a few objects that will be harder to untransfigure?" he asked politely. McGonagall twitched her wand at the stone on his table and turned it into a hare, before summoning two more pillows and depositing them next to the startled animal, who sat dumbly in place, no animation charm compelling it to leave its position.

"An organic untransfiguration should be comparably more difficult, if you manage that you may try to untransfigure several objects at the same time. The fact you've already managed the pillows should make it easier. Five points for both separate uses, if you succeed," she said, before looking up and leaving to another table, where a Ravenclaw had succeeded in casting the comparably difficult spell.

Harry turned his attention to the hare sitting in front of him and brought out his wand to cast the spell. A seeming battle of wills occurred between him and the transfigured material, a battle that he lost. A loss which resulted in nothing in particular happening. Harry started bringing in his experience with occlumency, which in essence was also a battle of wills. The hare lost its hair and revealed a stony exterior. Harry smiled.

-/-

One hour later and ten points richer Harry was just about to leave the Transfiguration classroom and head to the library when the professor signalled him to stay behind. He nodded at his friends as the other students shuffled out of the classroom, which wasn't anything special to look at. The head of Gryffindor seemingly liked to keep her furnishings simple. He did have to admit though that the bench table combinations were a classic in any UK classroom, even if they weren't really comfortable.

"You wished to speak to me, professor?" he asked as he went to stand in front of the teacher's desk, where McGonagall was quickly jotting down some notes.

She nodded and looked up, steepling her fingers, "Are you alright Mr. Evans?" she asked, receiving a polite smile from Harry.

"The article wasn't a pleasant read, but neither was it overly important. There will be chances to prove myself in the future," he said, causing the professor to grimace.

"Perhaps best to do so early, rather than late. If a negative impression sticks for too long it tends to fester," she advised and Harry nodded, consideringly.

"I will try to enter the U17 international duelling Tournament this summer. Professor Flitwick said he'd help me prepare if I didn't lag under the increased workload by the winter break. Perhaps nationalism will win over blood-purism and the paper will switch its tune to support the British rather than attack the filthy."

"That's good, perhaps you might want to meet with the headmaster, to do something earlier as well, however?" McGonagall suggested, seemingly pleased at his idea, albeit not really believing that he could go far in the tournament.

Harry nodded absentmindedly at the suggestion as he realised that he technically already had all the pieces he needed to turn the tides. Maybe. He frowned as he realised that it would necessitate going to Slughorn's party.

"I'll see what I can achieve at Professor Slughorn's soiree," he said, and by McGonagall's facial expression, he wasn't the only one with a distaste for such occasions.

"It's good that you have a plan," McGonagall conceded, "but don't hesitate to come to me, or your Head of House if you're experiencing difficulties."

Harry nodded, "Will that be all?" he asked, causing the professor to wave him off.

"Oh, and keep up the class-work," was the last remark from the woman, before the door shut behind Harry and he was left alone in an empty corridor, only a pair of drunk monks in a painting keeping him company. Cedric and Penny had long since learned to not wait on him if he stayed behind to talk to a professor. It had been happening with some regularity recently.