Chapter 39.1- Doom Days

“No, not like that” I whispered as the glass ballerina shattered into a million pieces. With a sigh and a wave of my wand, it came back together again. “Now, let’s try again Miss Perkins. I need you to animate that to dance and just to dance. You can see that it is in a certain position already. What do they call that?” I asked myself trying to figure out what the ballet position was known as.

“A pirouette” my student for the day said. That was it.

“Yes, that’s it. Brilliant. Do you like ballet?” I asked like I hadn’t used legilimency to skim her surface thought and seen her love for the art when the ballerinas were first brought out.

“I love to dance” She whispered to me and I nodded like she had told me the most important secret the world would ever hear.

“Good. Love to hear it. Now tell me what you love about it”

“I love the way I move. It feels like flying. The freedom, the grace, the way a perfectly practiced routine comes together. It’s art with our bodies, Miss Anne says” She said.

“Good. Now think of how good you feel when you dance. This ballerina was made from glass and stuck in this position. What’s it called again?” I asked to keep her attentive.

“A pirouette” She said chirping up the answer like a cute little bird.

“Oh yes. She’s stuck mid-pirouette and can’t finish it. What I need you to do is help her finish it and then decide what to do next. Can you do that, Miss Perkins?” I asked, seeing that I had the young third year eating out of my hands.

“I can, Professor Potter.” She said, eyes bright with determination. With a fire that belied her Ravenclaw roots.

“Now do it” I said stepping back.

She pointed her wand at the glass figure and then turned to me, fire noticeably dimmer, replaced with confusion.

“I forgot the incantation, Professor Potter” She said when I gave her a questioning look. I surpassed my instinctive reaction. I could see it in her mind how she expected this to go, and I could see the effects already. She’d cringe, return to her shell, and fail the spell again. No. \\

“That’s perfectly fine, Miss Perkins. I’ll give you a reminder and a hint. It’s Locomotor rhymes with promoter” I said, causing her to giggle before facing the figurine again.

“Locomotor rhymes with promoter” the little jewel said with all the confidence of a mad man facing down oncoming traffic. Her words caused the entire class to turn to us, but it didn’t matter. The ballerina completed her spin and then her foot returned to the floor and she began to dance. Not a simple thing like most of the others did, but a complicated routine that lasted at least two minutes involving multiple spins, dips, and all sorts of moves that Perkins’ mind supplied as Chaînés, Assemblés, Pas de bourrées, and a dozen others that I cared too little to note. It completed it all with a bow and a step back.