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It was a lazy Saturday afternoon two weeks after classes had started. Most students were off at clubs or studying, and of the Slytherins just hanging out, many had been lured away for lunch.

On an armchair near the fireplace was a fox reading a book. At least, it looked like it might have been– the book was propped open by a paw, and the page was right-side up. As they left, a few of the older students had given the fox an affectionate ruffle on the head or held their hands out for a high-paw or nose-bump. But now the fox’s eyes seemed to be closed. The pressure on the book slackened, and the cover closed a tad, sandwiching the fox’s head between the pages.

For a peaceful quarter of an hour, the Common room was quiet aside from the sounds of pages flipping and flames crackling. Then the book in front of the fox tipped forward and slipped off. With the thump of the book falling to the ground, the fox perked awake. He hopped off, nudging the book properly closed and smoothing a corner with a paw before picking the book up with his teeth and setting it on the table.

Awake, the fox stretched, looking about. The owl by the fire fluffed its feathers, flying out of reach just in case, but this fox wasn’t interested in bird-snack. One ear turned curiously towards the first year at the same coffee table. He watched for a minute as she glowered and glared at the text—the fox hopped onto the table and sat across the way, checking out the text—ah, transfiguration.

For a while, the fox seemed to just sit and watch the object of her frustration, as though reading the text itself—that is, assuming foxes could read upside down, much less read at all.

The girl was getting more annoyed. Abruptly, she slammed the book shut and threw it onto the couch beside her. The fox didn’t flinch, but he did sit up. She explained she wasn’t giving up, just done for now. Oh, okay then.

She continued mumbling, more to herself than to him that he couldn’t judge her. Well, no. Vihaan wouldn’t consider himself a master transfigurationist. He had done well in the class as a Hogwarts student, but that was–quite literally, over half a century ago. There were fourth years being tested on transfiguration that had only been theoretical back when he was in school. The world over there were plenty of masters at transfiguration and even they thought they had more to learn. But all that wasn’t what this young student was struggling with, and it probably wouldn’t make her a better witch to bring that up now. Given it was still quite early in the school year, she was presumably frustrated by the basics and fundamentals of transfiguration. And that, as an alchemy professor, he ought to be able to help with.

Goal: Help the student master whatever's stumping her. No, wait, that was probably a bit ambitious for a Saturday afternoon, and he wasn't working right now. Goal: Restore the student to studying condition. Perhaps restore some confidence in understanding transfiguration.

But the girl had said she was done for now. She curled up and sighed before ripping out and crumpling a page from her notes. She tossed it, and whether she meant for it to just go away or to burn it, it landed in the dying cinders of the fireplace. With a yelp, the fox leapt off the chair and batted it away from the flames.

Part of him–the human professor half probably–wanted to uncrumple the ball and see what she had given up, maybe explain some of it. But the fox half was excited by a paper ball.And maybe, he thought, that would be more helpful for her right now.

So, indulging the canine part of himself, the fox bounded after the ball and came back, depositing the crumpled paper ball on the coffee table and nosing it over to her before sitting up. He barked once, as though encouraging her to throw it again.

The girl seemed almost surprised when the fox nosed the crumpled paper ball back to her, but she played along–interestingly though, she stuffed that page into her pocket, tore out another page and tossed it a ways away. The fox turned towards the direction she’d thrown it in before giving chase with a happy chirp. He slunk underneath a nearby table and again returned. He deposited the ball next to the pocket the other paper ball had vanished in--or rather, at the sock-clad foot on the side of the pocket.

However the girl chose to interpret his actions, the fox was happy to chase any balls that were thrown. When she seemed to tire of the game though, the fox hopped up on the coffee table to paw at the girl’s notebook or textbook–whichever she seemed more keen to look through.

The girl bemoaned getting back to studying even as she straightened the first page. She went on grumbling about talking to a fox as though he were going to suddenly teach her transfiguration–err, definitely not time to shift back then? She sighed again and dropped her shoulders sadly– no, frustratedly, and mumbled yet another dejected remark.

The fox, in turn, turned his head at the notes and notebooks as though confused or curious, but really he was just turning so he could read her notes and figure out where the transfiguration class was. Vihaan’s alchemy students were, after all, were in their third year and had two solid years of transfiguration with the astute Professor Drage under their belts. Alchemy in general tended to attract students who had enjoyed transfiguration, and even if they were struggling, they had usually figured the basics out to by the time he encountered them.

He glanced between her notes and her expression and after a moment, whined quietly to get her attention. He tapped a claw against the pages of the notebook, pointing to the equation featured on the pages. He turned his head quizzically, asking with a whine if that was what was frustrating her so much.

The girl confirmed she was stuck on the transfiguration equation and murmured she wasn’t sure if it was because of the math or if she was too dumb to cast magic. Neither is true. But how do I get you to come to that realization on your own?

The girl tried the match to needle spell but barely managed to make it shudder.

Well she’s pronouncing it correctly at least.. Hm hm. How shall we proceed?

Perhaps something as simple as going through the equation piece by piece would help. He had a worksheet breaking down a similar equation for alchemy students that might help. There were a couple reasons why the spell wouldn’t work though, each hidden behind one of the letters: Perhaps she was pronouncing the word correctly but didn’t have a clear image of the desired needle or the match transfiguration in her head. Perhaps her wand bond wasn’t there yet– that was more a question for Elysia in wandlore though, and he was pretty sure Rick wouldn’t assign a spell that first years new to magic wouldn’t be able to cast with unfamiliar wands. Concentration was such an imprecise measurement– it had to include the spellcaster’s mental status and fatigue, how familiar they were with the spell and what parts could go wrong and how to fix those, how focused they were on the spell or on other spells, their confidence with the spell and wandwork in general–a whole mess of things.

But as the fox watched her frustration, he suspected this went beyond not quite envisioning a needle properly or not concentrating. The girl didn’t seem to be confident in her ability to cast magic in general. It was a question now of intentionality.

As he thought of how to express that, his eyes landed on the crumpled ball of paper that remained– she had reclaimed and straightened the first ball, but this one…Rather decisively, he covered the equation with a paw and gave a short bark. No more of this for now. We’ll find another way for you to understand this before coming back to it.

Abruptly, the fox snatched the ball up in its mouth and placed it next to the match. At first, he just batted it between his paws normally. Then suddenly he stopped, backed off from the ball, and growled at it. His squared up against it, eyes narrowed and ears flicked forward, fur raised to make himself look bigger. In animal behavior, this was clear: That paper ball was nothing and was going down. This time when he pounced, he flung it clear across the table.

Instead of chasing after it immediately though, the fox sat, wagging its tail a little with excitement and hope that the meaning came across clearly. Confidence, child!

Immediately the girl seemed to understand, trying again with more confidence. She seemed pleasantly startled when the matchstick turned silver, and picked it up with a determined nod and tried again. Excellent. This time she’d approached it with a firm command, and the spell made the matchstick into even more clearly a needle. The girl gave him a little ruffle between the ears and the fox seemed to smile, its little eyes shrinking into contented slits to accept the petting with an encouraging bark.

Once she was done petting, the fox bounded off as though going after the paper ball again. Instead, he returned with a thin volume flipped open to the chapter on “Flipendo”-- Vihaan didn’t know if Ernesto--Professor Valdez-- had them learning about and practicing Flipendo yet, but he was pretty sure it would be around the same time. And this was a perfect spell for demonstrating that confident, commanding nature that spellcasting sometimes required– and more importantly, that the girl seemed to need more of.

The fox pushed the book next to the girl’s foot, deposited the paper ball next to it and stood back. Once again, he puffed himself up, he puffed himself up, narrowed his eyes, crouched as though ready to pounce, and let the low growl rumbling at the back of his throat give way to a single, commanding bark. This time though, instead of whacking the ball away, he just sat back up, watching the girl with wide, eager eyes and a slight wag to his tail.