A Transformation Magic lesson

The magical academy resembled an ancient castle, its walls reflected centuries of magical practice in its classrooms. Built of stone, the building bore no resemblance to a dilapidated shack, on the contrary, no matter how the styles of the surrounding dwellings had changed, it always looked majestic. Sunlight played in the tall windows, illuminating the rows of wooden desks where students laid out their supplies, preparing for class. The classroom buzzed like a hive filled with impatient bees. Students whispered, adjusted their robes, quills scratched nervously against parchment — a transformation magic lesson always promised, if not progress, then at least a spectacle. Their teacher, a stern wizard with gray temples, finally ascended the podium and tapped his wand softly but firmly on the table. — «Let me remind you of the safety rules» — he began in the same tone that is used long before any disasters happen. — «The animal is transformed mentally, taking into account its body structure, magical pathways, and your concentration. Remember: one wrong thought, and a mouse can turn into anything. I wouldn't want a repeat of last week.» A chuckle ran through the class. Lucifer, who was sitting by the window, glanced lazily around the class. The smell of old books, copper filings, and magical chalk was calming — unlike some of the people in this room. A row further to the left, Alastor had settled in, as if deliberately within his line of sight. The blond man winced. He was new to this academy: he'd transferred at the start of the semester, following his cousin Charlie — sunny, loud girl, and a favourite one of the faculty and half the student body. She helped him get used to the new place, explained who sat where, which classes were better not to be missed, or better none at all, and even made him a colorful schedule, showing which teachers he could approach on which days for additional explanations. Alastor, as if he could sense his gaze, turned his head slightly. The smile on his face was polite, but taut, like the thin thread of a trap. Lucifer only had to remember the first few days: how the brunet would casually make jokes about his height, deftly climb to the top bunks to watch the newcomer stretch, and place his hand on his chest, feigning surprise: — «Oh, you can't reach it? Well then, little angel... maybe you'll grow some wings?» The nickname stuck since then. Lucifer sighed and clenched his wand in his fingers. If Alastor had hoped he'd remain patiently silent today, he was mistaken. — «You can begin» — the teacher announced, stepping aside. — «Mouse to bat transformation. The spell is on the board. The rest is in your head.» The locks on the cages clicked in the classroom. The mice squeaked in fear, and chaos ensued. Spells faltered, words jumbled, and very soon, instead of the expected rustle of wings, the air was filled with croaking, hissing, and even neighing. One mouse inflated like a balloon, the other dissolved into flower dust. Lucifer's mouse, however, gained wings, but instead of ears. The tiny wings trembled, and the mouse seemed to try to fly, either rejoicing or cursing at its new state. Lucifer blinked. Well, at least it wasn't a peacock's tail. And all would have been well, if a familiar voice hadn't sounded behind him: — «Hey there, little angel» — Alastor drawled, his soft tone ringing with steel, — «perhaps you could add a nimbus to your mouse? Or white feathers to its wings? It will immediately become your heavenly assistant!» Lucifer slowly raised his head. Alastor glanced over his shoulder at him — he already held the perfect bat in his hands, dark and gothic, just like himself. — «Although, you know...» — the brunet continued, tilting his head, — «something softer would suit you. A dove, for example. Or a duckling.» His smile widened. The first flame flared before the wand was even raised. — «A duckling, you say?» — Lucifer responded, deliberately calm. He made a light, almost casual gesture, but his voice rang with an icy note of challenge. The spell left his lips quickly, but Alastor was faster. A flash of his wand, a short phrase — and the world turned upside down. He felt his body become incredibly light, his legs short, and his arms vanish entirely. Lucifer squeaked, no, quacked, and, looking up at the table, realized: it was he who quacked! A pause fell over the classroom, and then laughter rang out. Alastor smiled, covering his mouth with his hand, as if it had happened by accident. — «Looks like you've grown wings, little angel.» Lucifer spread his tiny wings angrily and flapped them vigorously. «Oh, you...!» he thought to say, but all that came out was another round of duck-like quacks. «Well, I'll give you one!» During the previous break, Charlie had been talking about her experimental potion, which Lucifer had accidentally snatched up before he could satisfy his curiosity and return it. He reached for his pencil case, clumsily shuffling his paws, snatched the bottle with his tiny beak, and, grabbing it with his free wing, yanked the cap upward. The potion erupted in sparks. Just a few wing movements, and the bottle flew toward Alastor. A pop, like the sound of ripping fabric, followed. Scarlet sparks swirled in the air, and when the fog cleared, a lithe, cherry-red coloured cat was already arching where the class favorite had been sitting a moment before. The newly minted cat examined the result of the hit, then looked up at the culprit. — «Mrrrrr...» — he drawled low and dangerously. The next second, he took off. Lucifer, flapping his wings, attempted to fly higher to avoid the claws aimed at him. A disgruntled hissing, quacking, and scraping of claws on wood could be heard. The teacher slowly raised his gaze to the zoo unfolding before him and merely sighed wearily, watching yet another squabble of his own, not the first this week, while bats and mice scattered across the classroom, frightened by the cat's appearance.