"Hide the truth?" James said, anger overcoming his caution. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Read the badges, Potter. You know exactly what we're talking about," the boy said, hoisting his backpack and moving casually down the hall with his friends. "And if you don't, you're even stupider than you look." He turned his back on James.
James blinked in anger and amazement. "What was that all about?"
Ralph sighed. "Come on, let's get a seat. I'll tell you, although I don't understand much of it myself."
But they had no time to discuss it before class. Headmistress McGonagall, who had taught
Transfiguration to James' mum and dad, taught it still, and with apparently the same degree of businesslike briskness. She explained the basic wand motions and commands, illustrating by transforming a book into a herring sandwich. She even asked one of the students, a boy named Carson, to eat a portion of the sandwich. Afterward, she transformed the sandwich back into the book and showed the class that the book still bore the bite marks Carson had made. There were sounds of awe and amusement. Carson looked at the bitten chunks and pressed his hand to his stomach, a look of thoughtful dismay on his face. Near the end of class, McGonagall instructed the students to produce their wands and practice the motions and commands on a banana, which they were to attempt to transfigure into a peach.
"Persica Alteramus, emphasis on first syllables only. Don't expect to make much progress your first time," she called over the noise of the students' attempts. "If you produce even a banana with a hint of peach fuzz, we will consider that a success for today. Do be careful, Miss Majaris! Small circular flicks only, please!"
Zane stared furiously at his banana and flicked his wand at it. "Persica Alteramus!" There was no apparent change. He pressed his lips together. "Let's see you try, James."
Shrugging, James raised his wand and flicked it, speaking the command. The banana flopped over, but remained decidedly a banana.
"Maybe they're transforming on the inside," Zane said hopefully. "Maybe we should peel it and see if it's all peachy in there, eh?"
James thought about it, and then shook his head. They both tried again. Ralph watched. "More wrist movement. You guys look like you're directing jetliners."
"So easy to criticize, so hard to create," Zane said between attempts. "Let's see you have a go, Ralphinator."
Ralph seemed reluctant to try. He fingered his wand, keeping it under the edge of the desk.
"Come on, Ralph," James said. "You've been pretty excellent at wandwork so far. What are you worried about?"
"Nothing," Ralph said, a little defensively. "I don't know."
"Rats!" Zane said, dropping his wand arm and grabbing the banana with the other. He plunked his wand onto the table and pointed the banana at it. "Maybe I'd have better luck doing it this way, you think?"
James and Ralph stared at him. He rolled his eyes. "Oh, sheesh, come on Ralph. Make with the peach. You know you can do it. What are you waiting for?"
Ralph grimaced, then sighed and raised his gigantic wand. He flicked it lightly at his banana and said the command flatly, almost as if he was trying to get it wrong. There was a flash and a noise like a pine knot exploding in a fireplace. The rest of the class heard the noise and glanced over at Ralph. A puff of heavy smoke lingered on the table in front of Ralph, who had pushed back from it, his eyes wide and troubled. As the smoke dissipated, James leaned in. Ralph's banana was still lying there, completely untouched.
"Well," Zane said into the sudden silence, "that was a whole lotta--"
A small, squishy noise came from Ralph's banana. The peel split slowly and began to separate, opening like a pulpy yellow flower. There was a prolonged gasp from the students as a green tendril grew out of the center of the peeling banana. It seemed to sniff the air as it grew, twisting and lengthening like a vine. The tendril began to straighten as it rose, snaking up from the table with a graceful, writhing motion. More tendrils came out of the banana. They spread along the surface in a starburst pattern, found the edges of the table, and curled under them, gripping tightly. Branches began to separate from the main shoot as it grew, thickening and turning lighter, until it was a woody, yellowish grey. Foliage sprouted from the branches in great, sudden bursts, growing from tender shoots to full leaf in a matter of seconds. Finally, as the tree reached a height of about four feet, there came a series of soft pops. Half a dozen peaches sprouted from the ends of the lower branches, weighing them down. Each one was fuzzy, plump, and pristine.
James tore his glance away from the tree and looked around the room. Every eye was on the perfect little peach tree Ralph had conjured, mouths dropped open, wand hands still frozen in mid-flick. Headmistress McGonagall stared at the tree intently, her mouth a frown of complete surprise. Then motion returned to the room. Everyone exhaled and spontaneous, awed applause broke out.
"He's mine!" Zane called, standing and throwing an arm around Ralph's shoulders. "I saw him first!" Ralph broke his eyes away from the tree, looked at Zane and smiled rather blankly. But James remembered the look on Ralph's face when the tree was growing. He hadn't been smiling then.
Moments later, in the corridor outside, Zane spoke through a mouthful of peach. "Seriously, Ralph. You're creeping me out a bit, here. That's some serious wizarding you've got going on. What's the deal?"
Ralph smiled his uncertain, worried smile again. "Well, actually…"
James looked at Ralph. "What? Tell, Ralph!"
"All right," he said, stopping and pulling them into a windowed alcove. "But this is just a guess, right?"
James and Zane nodded enthusiastically, gesturing for Ralph to go on.
"I've been practicing a lot with some of the other Slytherins at night, you know," Ralph explained. "Just the basic stuff. They've been teaching me a few things. Disarming Spells and some tricks and pranks, stuff to pull on your enemies."
"What enemies have you got already, Ralph?" Zane asked incredulously, licking peach juice from his fingers.
Ralph flapped his hand impatiently. "You know, just average enemies. It's just the way the guys in my house talk. Anyway, they say I'm better than average. They think I'm not really just a plain old Muggle kid who got some random magic genes. They think maybe one of my parents is from one of the great wizarding families and just don't know it."
"Seems like a pretty big thing not to know, doesn't it?" James said doubtfully. "I mean, you said your dad made Muggle computer stuff, didn't you?"
"Well, yeah, him," Ralph said dismissively, and then dropped his voice. "But my mum… I didn't tell you guys she was dead, did I? No," he answered himself. "Of course not. Well, she is. She died when I was really little. I never even knew her. What if she was a witch? I mean, what if she was from one of the great old pureblood wizarding families and my dad never even knew it? It happens, you know. Magic types fall in love with Muggles and can never tell them the secret their whole lives. Pureblood types don't like it, I guess, but still…" He trailed off and looked back and forth at Zane and James.