9th December, 1889 — Transfiguration Classroom
This was the stuff of nightmares. Aubrey knew the dangers of transfiguration more personally than most - no kidding, huh - so he had always been wary of the classroom where unpractised children waved their wands willy-nilly hoping to turn things into something else.
He had thought it might be the place that saved him, once upon a time. He had thought, when he was a young hedgehog, new to the life, that if he hopped out of Master Urquart’s pocket one day in a Transfiguration class, he might be able to catch the professor’s attention, might seem so wondrously Un-Hedgehog-Like that the professor, if not a pupil, would be able to piece together the sum of it, and realise he was not what he looked like.
It hadn’t happened, because humans were fucking blind (and that came from Aubrey, who for the last decade had only been able to see in shades of cream and brown). He tried to get a look at Transfiguration theory when he could, though, just in case one day he came across a way to turn himself back, by spontaneously learning wandless magic or just by sheer force of will. Whatever worked.
With the winter holidays coming up, there had been various student study groups over the weekend trying to cram before end-of-term exams, finishing work that they’d been slacking on. Aubrey had been eavesdropping on one of those yesterday, in fact, when the worst had happened.
It had gotten practical. Turning things to pincushions, that was what the OWL years were working on. There was a cage full of porcupines right beside him. And Aubrey? Aubrey had, for the rest of the weekend, been trapped in a cage full of hedgehogs.
To be experimented on! To face the indignity of losing even animal consciousness and becoming an insentient pincushion! To think, he had thought hedgehog life hell, when it was only a kind of purgatory. Merlin, imagine if baby Urquart had managed to make him a pincushion for the rest of his days.
But the weekend had come and gone and classes were set to start up again today, and he had to get out of here before lessons if it was the last thing he did! (It would be the last thing he did, if he became a bloody pincushion.)
He’d had to do a lot of climbing and grunting over the bundle of hedgehogs in this cage, but finally - finally - he had managed to pick the lock by reaching through the bars and wriggling one of his tiny fingers into the lock. He had just managed to swat the lock out of the way, sending it to the stone floor with a clang - when the door to the classroom creaked open. Shit shit shit.
He had thought it might be the place that saved him, once upon a time. He had thought, when he was a young hedgehog, new to the life, that if he hopped out of Master Urquart’s pocket one day in a Transfiguration class, he might be able to catch the professor’s attention, might seem so wondrously Un-Hedgehog-Like that the professor, if not a pupil, would be able to piece together the sum of it, and realise he was not what he looked like.
It hadn’t happened, because humans were fucking blind (and that came from Aubrey, who for the last decade had only been able to see in shades of cream and brown). He tried to get a look at Transfiguration theory when he could, though, just in case one day he came across a way to turn himself back, by spontaneously learning wandless magic or just by sheer force of will. Whatever worked.
With the winter holidays coming up, there had been various student study groups over the weekend trying to cram before end-of-term exams, finishing work that they’d been slacking on. Aubrey had been eavesdropping on one of those yesterday, in fact, when the worst had happened.
It had gotten practical. Turning things to pincushions, that was what the OWL years were working on. There was a cage full of porcupines right beside him. And Aubrey? Aubrey had, for the rest of the weekend, been trapped in a cage full of hedgehogs.
To be experimented on! To face the indignity of losing even animal consciousness and becoming an insentient pincushion! To think, he had thought hedgehog life hell, when it was only a kind of purgatory. Merlin, imagine if baby Urquart had managed to make him a pincushion for the rest of his days.
But the weekend had come and gone and classes were set to start up again today, and he had to get out of here before lessons if it was the last thing he did! (It would be the last thing he did, if he became a bloody pincushion.)
He’d had to do a lot of climbing and grunting over the bundle of hedgehogs in this cage, but finally - finally - he had managed to pick the lock by reaching through the bars and wriggling one of his tiny fingers into the lock. He had just managed to swat the lock out of the way, sending it to the stone floor with a clang - when the door to the classroom creaked open. Shit shit shit.
Formerly known as Davis,