Chapter Seventeen

Christmas morning came after the Christmas Nightmare. Hogwarts had emptied of those who would go back home for their holidays, thus leaving the castle pretty much empty of all but a few individuals, and among them were the Weasley Twins. If before my chances of being pranked were low, they spiked incredibly high after the lack of valid targets came to the front of their wicked, wretched minds.

Though perhaps due to the Christmas spirit inhabiting those scum-filled villains, it ended amiably with near-choking toffees of some kind and itching powder that took a whole day to wash out.

The saving grace was that there were others in the same position, and some of the Slytherins had it even worse.

Still, Christmas Morning came and I headed for the tree that had appeared in the middle of the night in the middle of the room I shared with the other Ravenclaw students, of whom I had exchanged nary a word after my start at Hogwarts. I was sure they didn't mind; everyone was a bit odd, and if my oddity meant social exclusion, then it was a far cry from going around with a jellyfish on my head.

Though by the time I checked my gifts, I found myself honestly surprised.

I had expected a Christmas gift from Hermione, and I had received an agenda. Quite the somber, and thoughtful gift for the likes of me. Unfortunately, I'd probably never use it. I had gifted her a silvery hair-pin, which again I doubted she would use, but it was the thought that counted. And the many rocks that had died to bring it forth would have their sacrifice honored. Then came a gift from McGonagall, a book on transfiguration magic. How to prevent transfiguration mishaps, common remedies and safeguards. The author was a certain Brockenhurts Hilsafe and it took me a while to peg the name down.

Seriously, I was glad the internal consistency on naming factors remained untouched throughout the silliness of it all.

I grinned in surprise at seeing Dumbledore's gift. I had given the man a rock mug, just like professor McGonagall, with the words N°1 Headmaster etched on it. I had done the same for pretty much all the professors, just to avoid being troublesome. By next year I'd need to get transfiguration down to the point where I could make earmuffs, but in order to do that easily, I'd need more living sacrifices.

My mind reeled away from the dark thoughts. So many mice, so much blood, and in the end they had stopped popping and started transforming into unsightly variants of their intended target.

"They will be honored," I sighed as I headed down for breakfast. The Christmas holidays had everyone sitting at the same table, thus I ended up right in front of my accursed enemies, the Weasley twins. By my side was Harry Potter wearing a Weasley jumper, with further down Ron Weasley. A few other students of various houses were around us, but those were the ones I could name comfortably.

I dimly realized that while not all of the professors sported their gifted cups -Quirrell and Snape, in particular, didn't have one- everyone else seemed to. I reckoned it was merely kindness for the orphan; or perhaps they did lack big, sturdy mugs meant for sipping liters of tea in their morning routines. Next year, I'd try adding a permanent heating charm to the next model, and then a self-stirring charm.

My future as a seller of magical mugs would skyrocket. Perhaps even a venom tester could be inserted? That was quite the intelligent idea.

I took a bite out of a crumpet, drank a sip of tea, and it took me a moment to realize that rather than tea, I'd been served coffee. I looked down at the contents of my cup, and grinned. "Thanks, Oddment," I whispered to myself, tapping the table's surface.

Truly, it was a glorious Christmas morning.

Christmas afternoon, I spend in a quite unsavory way.

"I think the world would be a better place if I stopped killing mammals, and proceeded with fishes," I remarked to myself, staring at the wooden branch taken from the very outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. Literally, I refused to step inside. If I found a dead branch lying there, then I'd take it. Otherwise, I'd leave it there. I dragged it all the way to the edge of the lake, and then looked down at it.

"I need to make a wooden branch into a wooden pole. It's literally the same thing, only one's sturdy and the other's not. One's straight, and one's not. It's not supposed to be hard," I muttered to myself, "So please, can we get along?" I took a deep breath, whispered words of encouragement, and then touched with the tip of my wand the edge of the branch.

I threw my body away even before opening my eyes. I cradled my head, expecting my ears to ring, an explosion, and the familiar sensation of wood digging into my flesh. The snow was cold, and as I hesitantly raised my head, I witnessed a miracle.

I had made a fishing pole.

I had finally made a functional transfiguration without an explosion.

I quietly got up, and neared with a look of pure awe the thing. I nervously touched the edge of it, feeling the smoothness and understanding that yes, indeed, it had been done.

"Thank you," I said, not really knowing to whom I had said it. I raised the fishing pole up, and then realized I needed some kind of string to attach to it. I glanced down at the grass blades, and at the longer strings of wild plants without flowers upon them. Dried, brownish stalks would work well enough once transfigured.

And what was the worst that could happen? Wood could become shrapnel. It wasn't like grass blades could become something dangerous in turning from grass into string now, could they?

As it turned out, things didn't need to become shrapnel in order to annoy me.

"Blimey! Did someone tie you up?" Ron Weasley asked, as he and Harry Potter were apparently enjoying the Christmas weather. Thankfully, they had gone outside to play with the snow, and since I had been snaking my way back towards the castle with a foul humor, they met me midway.

I should have specified the string's dimension, as well as just how tight I wanted it. I had forgotten that, and thus I had ended up salami-tied in a bundle of sharp string, which had left me to worm my way back towards the School hoping for rescue.

"Cut me free, please," I said, trying to keep my frustration at bay. "Transfiguration does not agree with me," I continued, much to the duo's consternation. Still, they managed to get a sharp rock and snap at the string, freeing me from my self-made prison.

My wrists could breathe.

My body could finally stand up.

I had ice in unmentionable places...

...but I would catch a fish if it was the last thing that I did.