Closed Eyes Like Tides, Spilling Salt and Pride

[Harper Alston]

Plot ID #111804​

If Harper had felt lost at the beginning of the year, that was nothing compared to how she was feeling now.

She stared at the Transfiguration books open in front of her, trying to ignore the little voice in her head telling her that this was a lost cause — that she was a lost cause. Harper had been in the abandoned classroom for nearly four hours now, begging her body to do her bidding and transform. But it wasn't listening, and she was starting to grow desperate. She had grown her first feathers a little over a year ago, making them wax and wane along her arms. Now, that was still pretty much the extent of her animagus abilities.

A whole year of training, and she hadn't progressed at all. Well, that wasn't entirely true. For the brief period when Professor Summers was still teaching her, Harper had managed to transform her arms into wings and back. But after a winter break that had knocked her entire life off-kilter, she was back to square one, struggling to grow even a single feather. Whether her regression was due to the extended break from training, the change in instructor, or something else — Harper didn't know. What she did know was that it had taken her months to regain skills that used to come easily.

And now she didn't know how to go any further, to make the rest of her body transform. The next step was supposed to be her torso, but all Harper could do was make the occasional feather appear, and even that took an excruciating amount of effort. The skin on her chest was pocked with painful red bumps, each marking a feather she'd had to pluck because she could not transfigure it back. Today, she'd managed seven new feathers, which likely meant she would end the day with seven new scars.

The hours of practice had given Harper a headache, and she closed her eyes. Maybe it was time to quit. Maybe this was like football — maybe she was fighting a losing battle. She didn't have an instructor, and her transfiguration skills clearly weren't good enough. It was not lost on Harper that the last time she'd had a breakthrough in her training, she'd been under the influence of Felix Felicis. What if she simply wasn't capable of becoming an animagus? What if it was beyond her abilities? This was a power that some people trained their whole lives for. It had been arrogant of her to think she could accomplish it in just a few years.

With a sigh, Harper opened her eyes. Her gaze was drawn to a moving photo in one of the books: an owl, mid-flight. The sight made her ache, and she realised with startling clarity that she didn't want to quit. She'd already given up so much over the past year; she couldn't give up on this. Wiping at her eyes, Harper pulled the book closer and started to leaf through the pages. She was getting nowhere with her attempts to transfigure her body, so maybe she just needed to take a break and try something else. After some flipping, she found the section on facial transfigurations.

Harper had already read the chapter, but she spent a few moments studying the moving diagrams. The text suggested tackling facial transfigurations last due to the amount of detail involved, but Harper figured they were worth a shot. It was better than throwing herself at the same problem over and over again. She shut her eyes, opened her mind, and let the familiar feelings of weightlessness overtake her. Even though Harper had experienced this vision a hundred times by now, her heart still jumped at the sight of the bird — her form — arcing its way through the sky.

She willed the bird to come closer, but when it finally turned, the vision went blurry and faded. Harper took a deep breath and tried again. This time, as she tracked the bird, she felt a sharp stinging on her cheek. The sensation broke her focus, and she seized the handheld mirror she'd brought. Poking out of her cheek was a single blonde feather. It looked similar to ones she'd grown before, but the skin underneath felt different. It hurt, which was strange. In her experience, self-transfiguration could be a lot of things — awkward, uncomfortable, disorienting — but it was usually not painful.

Harper hesitated for only a second before she closed her eyes again. This was the most progress she'd made in four hours, and she was determined to follow this thin thread of success until she found its end. Another vision, another flash of blue — and then more pain. The entire left side of her face felt hot, and she could feel her skin protesting as it shifted and split, making way for feathers. Even as the burning increased, a heady thrill shot through her. After a whole lot of nothing, she was finally doing something.

The pain was almost unbearable now, and Harper tried to pull back but the transfiguration continued. More feathers, more stinging. "Wait," she gasped, not even realizing that she'd spoken aloud. "Stop." But her body was no longer her own, and the feathers were coming faster now as the very bones of her face started to contort. A searing heat swept over her left eye, causing Harper to double over and cry out. She brought her hands to her face, as if she could physically hold herself together and stop the transformation, but the feeling of feathers where skin should have been made her recoil.

In an attempt to end the vision, Harper opened her eyes — or at least she thought she did. All she saw was blue. She no longer knew who or what she was, girl or bird. There was just the pain and the sky and a sick, sick fear. The bird from her vision had long since disappeared, and as Harper drifted out of consciousness, she felt as if she had vanished with it. There was nothing left in the world, nothing except an endless blue that stretched on and on, erasing everything in its path.