Lysandra was still boiling from Eleora's letter yesterday. She weathered her classes as calmly as possible, trying desperately not to ponder the intricacies of human transfiguration. Lysanrdra's strength, and weakness, in regards to magic, were wrapped around Lysandra's obsession of the Animagus transformation. A year before, Lysandra took the risk of transforming Annette Autumn into a bird, which was luckily a huge success. Ever since that demonstration of power was accomplished, and the possibility of Animagus transformation discovered, Lysandra set her sights high. As the old Ollivander had noted years ago, she obviously had a great talent for this line of magic, and she intended to master it.

Her attitude towards professor Beckett was anything but positive. She felt she was way beyond his teachings, always scoffing and mocking his teaching behind his back. If Lysandra was not Brendan's favorite, he would incur her wraith most definitely, as he surely did each day in Transfiguration class. But Eleora had given Lysandra little choice in the matter--Lysandra would possibly need Brendan if she intended to succeed in the Animagus transformation. Even though half of her brain wanted to erase the whole idea entirely, the other half coaxed her to seek the professor's help in the matter despite her opinions of him.

No options were really left besides honesty. Lysandra marched into his room during his office hours with Winifred Darcy, Lysandra's chaperon of choice. She approached the professor with the aplomb of an over-pompous statue as if she were ready to endure war against him.

"Professor Beckett, I ask you to be very direct and specific with me. And do not remind me of the dangers involved. Where are the sources needed to complete the Animagus Transformation?"

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<p>“Ah, welcome Miss Sutherland,” were the only words exiting Brendan’s mouth as he scribbled notes for his lesson plans on a piece of parchment resting in front of him. He was wondering why the fourth year was present in his office. Brendan assumed it was nothing short of her wanting to shove around her hoity-toity behavior and try to intimidate the young professor. Brendan had no interest in the upper class student’s money, and even though she was of his former house, Brendan would have no issue in taking points away for a sharp tongue coming out of the young woman. “If you’re here to talk about your opinion on my class,” Brendan started, “I’m in no rush to hear it. Be thankful I’m allowing your class to change anything at all.”</p>
<p>His words were sharp and tight. Brendan had no interest in changing his lesson plans. He had already started off on the presumed wrong foot of the beginner’s class. Theory was more important. You had to understand the basics before you could master the principles of extraordinary wand work. Brendan had not even mastered his Animagus form that he had been working on since conversing with the werewolf, Vera Rose, in the middle of the summer. He had grown to develop feelings for the woman, and Brendan had to curse himself silently for it. Brendan finished scribbling and placed the quill in a holder on his desk, and looked up at the girl and her chaperone, now officially acknowledging the pair.</p>
<p>“Miss Sutherland,” he started after hearing her answer, “Why they’re here in this room. The things you wish to utilize are in my presence, under my watch, for my use.” Brendan felt himself come off cold, harsh, and possibly very improper. He had no desire to let the fourth year touch the books that held the secrets he had just began to uncover upon his hiring as the Transfiguration professor. “I, however, cannot allow you to see them, Miss Sutherland,” Professor Beckett started, “for I have been using them since I was hired. You are not the only one in this school desiring to take the form of an animal. What is your purpose? What is your desire? Why dare you contemplate a task that takes years to master? What makes you sure you are even capable of attempting this goal, Miss Sutherland? Have you ever considered the repercussions of the possibilities, Miss Sutherland?”</p>
<p>Brendan was not necessarily trying to talk her out of it, but just trying to make sure she understood that trying to become an Animagus was no task for the weak of heart or mind. “I understand that you, of your… wealth sneer down your nose at me, Miss Sutherland, but if you desire to become an Animagus so firmly, I shall help you enough to prepare for your initial transformation if you so desire. I’m approaching the first attempt of my form. There is a reason, Miss Sutherland, that they dare not teach this in school. I barely think it’s acceptable for a fourth year to even try, but as a teacher of Transfiguration, I must congratulate you on your sheer pig-headedness. Maybe you have talents that I have yet to see, and maybe you do not. That is yet to be seen on my end,” Brendan stopped and looked at the fourth year. His eyes showing a more personable look than that of a teacher throwing on arrogant airs over the goals of an overambitious fourteen year old.</p>
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<div style="width:420px;font-family:Give You Glory;font-size:13px;color:black;text-transform:uppercase;">you rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles</div><br>
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<div style="width:400px;font-family:Convergence;font-size:9px;color:white;text-align:center;text-transform:uppercase;">tagged to: lysandra. word count: 587. outfit: a suit. </div><br>
<div style="width:420px;font-family:Convergence;font-size:9px;color:black;text-align:center;">CREDIT TO HALO'S SLIPPING DOWN at CAUTION 2.0. and ATF.</div>
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Great. He had most of the materials, if not all of them in his possession. This most definitely did not bode well for Lysandra. Under his watch, under his supervision? This would certainly be more difficult than she expected.

She had to submit herself to him. She desperately did not want to do this, but she had to admit to herself that he was the one with more knowledge and experience. As much as she detested the idea of being restrained under his wisdom, he was the one with the keys. In order to succeed in this dangerous endeavor, she would require him almost completely. She was not yet desperate enough to attempt the transformation on her own, so getting on his good side would have to be the next strategy.

Again, honesty was a new virtue Lysandra was trying to master after the Sutherland incident. Lysandra needed to let down her guard for once, and let the emotions flow into words. As dangerous as she once thought this to be, her only hope now was to rely on her humanity and the monologue in her heart.

"Mr. Beckett. I must be honest with you. I have yet to humble myself to your teachings. I have used your youth as an excuse not to listen, and for this I am dreadfully sorry. Please understand that I am willing to humble myself to you so that I may accomplish this task. What I really desire is to become the greatest Transfigurist."

"Let me assure you professor that wealth truly means nothing to me, and that I would trade it all to achieve this level of transformation, the achievement of Animagus. The reasons are my own. Perhaps one day we may share our reasons together, but for now, I ask to access the materials in your possession. Be aware that I am ready to study day and night, ready to give an incredible effort towards this goal. If you allow me, I will be here, every day, in order to succeed. This I want to make very clear to you. And furthermore, to better humble myself, I would ask for the opportunity to work beside you, if you may. I am anxious to see the true abilities of Transfigurists outside the classroom. If I seem slightly dull in your class, it is because I do not feel challenged enough. Challenge me, I beseech you. Please, for the love of God. Allow me the chance to prove myself to you."

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<p>You had to break the spirit to get inside the mind, and Brendan Beckett had to break Lysandra Sutherland’s spirit to get what he desired. Respect. To have this young lady respect him in class and accept his authority would be worthy of nod to his coworkers that the twenty-four year old could, in fact, manage a classroom filled with teenagers not that much younger than he was no doubt a task of unparalleled magnitude. Brendan straightened his red tie in an absentminded way. It was nervous, finding it very awkward to be in the presence of a female student for the intent of trying to find magic that even the most knowledgeable people had understanding of. Brendan was the Transfiguration professor, and after several months of practice and research on the topic, Brendan was finally getting close to an initial transformation. Then again, Brendan wanted to be selfish and not teach Lysandra, but he would. He was a professor, was he not? The inner agony that the thought bubbled was starting to make his palms sweat. Professor Beckett shifted his position in his chair and discretely wiped his palms on the legs of his gray pants.</p>

<p>What came next was surely an embarrassment on the professor’s part. Brendan snorted with laughter at her words. “Miss Sutherland, you cannot be serious. You mock me, and attempt to use a silver tongue to make me feel better about my teaching and that my youth, as you so eloquently placed it, was a reason to avert your ears off from listening. I assure you, Miss Sutherland, your words do not hold any weight to me,” Brendan probably came off as an asshole in these words, which was fine by him. He most certainly was an asshole to her, and in his head, with a justified reason. “I suggest finding more weight in your words and to be blunter with me, Miss Sutherland; I also suggest you listen,” he paused to consider her other words. Brendan could not believe it! She was trying to wiggle her way into touching the materials that took him time to track down. “Miss Sutherland,” he said with a serious, dark tone. “You must listen to me in class. You must wait to be called on to demonstrate and then demonstrate one thing before proceeding to transfigure other things like my desk,” he paused motioning to the beautiful craftsmanship of the desk before he folded his hands up to continue. “You are not humble enough, Miss Sutherland. I understand your place in society, but goodness do you not know when to calm down and let other people practice their own skills. You took the limelight in class, and it was very unfortunate to see the other students’ crestfallen faces.”</p>

<p>“I will assist you in your training, nevertheless, Miss Sutherland."</p>
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<div style="width:420px;font-family:Convergence;font-size:9px;color:black;text-align:center;">CREDIT TO HALO'S SLIPPING DOWN at CAUTION 2.0. and ATF.</div>
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"You took the limelight in class, and it was very unfortunate to see the other students’ crestfallen faces.”

"Yes, professor. I shall comply to your tutelage, unwavering."

He had shut her up quite good. To contest him was to potentially shut out her chances of obtaining the materials. And she could not risk it. Her tongue desired to slither further, as it was hot with words ready to retort. But she couldn't. She wouldn't dare. This was her first lesson in humility, and the professor was giving her a challenge. A challenge she did not comprehend until it hit her smack in the face. He was smarter than he seemed, for he knew to target her and her desires, not her magical prowess. She bit her tongue. Hard.

“I will assist you in your training, nevertheless, Miss Sutherland."

After she took a breath to pause from her previous statement, she gave thanks and curtsied. "Thank you professor, I am very grateful. Is there anything you ask of me before I take my leave?"

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<p>She was… complying to Brendan’s terms? This was an unpredicted change of events that both took the Transfiguration professor by surprise and made him feel as though he was right in control of the situation. Good. He was not going to let a girl best him. Not now. She asked if Brendan required anything else from her. Brendan thought hard on this. His contemplation cycled through a large number of things, but if he was going to tutor Lysandra, he was going to require more of her desires. “A three roll paper on why you want to be an Animagus. I would like it by the end of the week. Other than that, you may take your leave. I will see you when you would next like to join in a reading or tutor session. Until then, Miss Sutherland, have a nice day,” Brendan replied, straight faced. He dismissed her and hopefully she would take his words to heart. He couldn’t tell though. If only he made a difference in one student’s life, that would be enough for him for the year.</p>
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<div style="width:420px;font-family:Give You Glory;font-size:13px;color:black;text-transform:uppercase;">you rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles</div><br>
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<div style="width:400px;font-family:Convergence;font-size:9px;color:white;text-align:center;text-transform:uppercase;">tagged to: lysandra. word count: 587. outfit: a suit. </div><br>
<div style="width:420px;font-family:Convergence;font-size:9px;color:black;text-align:center;">CREDIT TO HALO'S SLIPPING DOWN at CAUTION 2.0. and ATF.</div>
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Lysandra was willing to go to anything lengths to prove to her professor that she had the mettle. Surely the length of her testimonial would be an annoyance. Yet again, the importance of this paper had a much greater weight than most, for to prove herself, she needed to convince him thoroughly.

Lysandra took her leave. Her heated discussion with Brendan had left her invigorated to go to the parchment directly for her assertions were most fresh in her mind, and she certainly wanted to be as distinct and professional as possible. Just as she could not afford to fail in the spell, which she had heard horrible horror stories of such, she could not afford to fail her master as well.

And so she wrote with vicious aspiration. She could not fail Brendan. She could not fail her house of Slytherin. She could not fail herself. And she could not fail her sex. Therefore, she then stroked those thoughts into ink. To her surprise, she had gone beyond the required length a bit, now happily proud of her achievement. She certainly had conjured sufficient reasons for the professor.

Her reservations for the finished work, however, made her hesitate for a moment on whether she should turn in the proud thesis. She worried that the work was perhaps too feministically charged, and thus may not win the favor of the potential chauvinist teacher. She had faith in Brendan though. If he had already given her the open crack of the door, she was prepared to thrust her whole body through as hard as she could. The lesson to be learned here was obvious: there was no turning back now.