Greek Tragedy | Sirius Black's Son

Chapter Three

someday you will find me
caught beneath a landslide
in a champagne supernova in the sky
oasis, champagne supernova

✧

The only subject that Icarus was (sort of) looking forward to was Transfiguration. Sure, he hated the homework that was given out and he wasn't particularly fond of McGonagall, but Transfiguration seemed to be the only thing that he was actually good at academic wise. To be fair, he did all right in all his other classes (sans potions), but he truly excelled in Transfiguration. He was probably the best in his year at it, always receiving full marks and only getting a few off if he didn't. Yes, Transfiguration was definitely his favorite subject.

Upon arrival at the Transfiguration classroom, Icarus spotted a tabby cat with square markings around its eyes stiffly sitting on a desk in the front. Professor McGonagall. She always did this on the first day of the school year, sitting still as a statue on top of her desk, watching the students walk into the classroom and take a seat.

As Icarus took his seat in the back of the class, he thought back to his first class with McGonagall. She had sat on her desk so still that Icarus had thought that she was a taxidermied cat. Imagine his surprise when, all of a sudden, the cat had turned into his teacher. He had realized that she was an animagus and ever since then, he had wanted to be one.

As if on cue, the cat jumped off of the desk and transformed into Professor McGonagall.

Professor McGonagall was a strict-looking woman and she lived up to her appearance. Square glasses rested on her nose and her black hair was pulled into a tight bun. She wore long, swishing robes that, today, were the color of emeralds. She always had a stern look on her face and she tolerated no nonsense in her class. She expected the best from her students, no matter the house, and she didn't tend to play favorites.

"Today," she announced, "you all will be practicing the Vanishing Spell. There is a snail on each of your desks that you will practice on."

Icarus glanced down at the desk he was sitting at to see a snail shell.

"The Vanishing Spell," McGonagall continued, "is one of the most difficult-if not the most difficult-spells you will learn this year.

"Now, I want you all to repeat after me. Evanesco."

"Evanesco," the class chorused. She had the class chant the word some more until they all had the pronunciation right.

"Very good. Now, I don't expect any of you to get the spell right today, but we'll see."

Icarus pointed his wand at the snail shell. "Evanesco."

Nothing happened.

"Evanesco." Again, nothing.

He tried again. And again and again and again. Each time, nothing happened. Frustrated at his inability to make the snail disappear, he looked over at Alan to see his progress.

Alan groaned. "Why is this so difficult?"

"Gee, I don't know, maybe it's because we're trying to make something disappear?"

"No one asked, Phillip."

"If it makes you feel any better," Icarus started, "I'm not having any luck either."