"The Canary, the Knight, and the Discipline Committee"
Benoît waited nervously in front of the discipline committee's door, straightening his posture as if trying to appear taller than he really was. As soon as he saw the headmistress approaching, accompanied by the imposing Professor Maximoff and a handsome man he had no idea who could be, he rushed to greet them. Naturally, he bowed first to the headmistress, the person with the most power in the school, with a smile that was meant to look proud but came out rather tense.
"Hello, Headmistress. Thank you for coming so quickly. I have the students inside," he announced firmly, as if he had captured a group of extremely dangerous criminals.
Madame Maxime, whose height tripled that of poor Benoît, raised a questioning eyebrow. They weren't heading to the discipline committee at all; they had only taken a detour after stopping at the courtyard fountain, and their actual destination was the club section.
"We also have that… strange golem they created," Benoît added, convinced that with this he would look like a hero who had saved the school.
"Oh, really? Then they're here," murmured the man, Nicolas, calmly.
"I see… then we can take a look at them," said Madame Maxime, smiling at Benoît.
He took that smile as a clear sign of approval. With his chest puffed out with pride, he opened the door wide so the three of them could step in behind him.
The scene that greeted them, however, instantly erased any sense of solemnity.
All the students were sitting in a circle playing cards, as if this were a lazy afternoon in the common room. And not only that: the loser of each round ended up with a drawing on their face. Ginny, who had previously been sulking in a corner with her arms crossed, now sported a cat mustache that matched the ones Astoria and Luna had. The Weasley twins were a complete disaster: their faces entirely painted black, full of scribbles that were clearly self-inflicted during a fraternal war with markers.
Hermione frowned in deep concentration at her cards, with a pair of hand-drawn glasses covering her face. Draco, meanwhile, tried to hide under his fringe, with stars painted on his forehead and a look of utter mortification. Daphne seemed to be the only one thoroughly enjoying herself, smiling with hearts on her cheeks as if she were wearing carnival makeup.
When everyone turned toward the door, Wanda and Nicolas could barely suppress a smile at the sight.
"Oh! Mom, teacher. Hello," Harry greeted casually, raising his hand… though his face was decorated with a fine mustache and a monocle, making him look like a caricature of a British aristocrat.
Benoît was seconds away from exploding and shouting at them all, but fortunately Madame Maxime spoke before he could.
"You are the Hogwarts students, aren't you?" she asked politely. "I heard from Mr. Nick that you were creating something rather magnificent, which is why we came to see it. But it seems you've already finished."
Harry stood up, wiping his face with a cloth.
"Oh, yes. We created it… though there was a slight problem: the person we used was a bit violent."
"Can we see it?" the headmistress asked, very interested. If Nicolas Flamel was this excited, it had to be something special.
"Of course. It's just that… the head of the committee has to return it first," said Harry, looking straight at Benoît.
The boy's eyes widened in panic. The headmistress watched him, waiting.
"Uh… yes! I'll bring it right now," he stammered before dashing out the door as if the devil himself were chasing him.
Some members of the committee trembled and shrugged, desperately hoping not to be dragged into trouble.
While they waited, Nicolas let his gaze wander around the room. It was a fairly basic space, except for a desk where a basket of objects rested. Among them, he spotted candies and, without thinking much of it, grabbed one and popped it into his mouth, convinced they were meant to be shared.
"Ah—" tried to warn one of the committee members, but it was too late.
A second later, Nicolas's body exploded in a puff of smoke. Everyone froze in shock, mouths open. When the smoke cleared, what stood in place of the great alchemist was not a corpse or some dark magical trick… but a tiny yellow canary hopping cheerfully on the table, chirping as if nothing had happened.
The Weasley twins widened their eyes as surprised as anyone else.
"And why are you two surprised?" Hermione snapped at them furiously, pointing at them. "Those were your confiscated illegal items!"
"N-no, that's not ours! Do you really think we could make something like that?" Fred blurted out, shaking his head in despair.
"At most, our sweets make your tongue grow down to your feet, or make you faint…" George added quickly.
"Or give you a nosebleed!"
"Or explosive vomiting!"
The two of them finished each other's sentences, listing effects so fast it was dizzying for everyone around them.
Ginny looked at them with stern disapproval and declared:
"I'll tell Mum to bring you food in Azkaban."
The twins paled instantly.
Meanwhile, Madame Maxime was on the verge of a heart attack: the greatest alchemist in the world reduced to a canary by a defective sweet inside her school.
Wanda, on the other hand, simply raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. The yellow canary chirped, oblivious to the chaos.
Suddenly, puff! Another cloud of smoke filled the air, and Nicolas reappeared in his human form, smiling as if the whole thing had been a game.
"Interesting sweet. Growing a tongue that long is… far too embarrassing. I used my Animagus form to cover it up," he explained calmly, while picking up the other candies in his hands and examining them with keen interest.
The twins let out a huge sigh of relief: at least they wouldn't be heading to Azkaban today. Harry and his friends exchanged glances, certain that their teacher had just pulled a prank on them while also taking the chance to show off his Animagus form. The mischievous glint hidden in his eyes gave him away.
Maxime, meanwhile, clutched her chest and breathed a sigh of relief, still trembling. Wanda, of course, had noticed it and barely even paid attention.
"You made it?" Nicolas asked, looking directly at the twins.
They, now more relaxed, exchanged a mischievous smile.
"Yes. One of our best products."
"And we have even more explosive ones…" they added in unison, as if reciting a sales slogan.
The others had already lost interest in their spiel; they repeated it so often it sounded more like a candy-shop jingle than a commercial threat. They leaned back, arms crossed, waiting for someone to applaud their virtues for the umpteenth time.
"Wow, they're quite good," Nicolas said as he examined the objects in the basket with curiosity. "I had a friend who used to make similar things. He now runs a school in Japan, so I suppose he's too busy for pranks." He said this with a nostalgic smile that gave his voice an old-fashioned air, like someone telling an anecdote from another century.
Nicolas's manner of speaking left the twins with faces somewhere between confused and offended, not sure if they were missing some historical joke.
"Master, did Grandma Perenelle also finish her Animagus form?" Daphne interrupted, eyes bright—when an idea lit up, she lived it a hundred percent.
"Mm… yes, last night. We both managed it. That's why I couldn't come earlier to see your project; we had to finish everything during the electrical storm," Nicolas explained calmly, as one might comment on the weather.
Daphne lit up; she already pictured the whole gang turned into adorable little animals. Her friends understood the look and shared a conspiratorial smile, visualizing the chaos that could ensue.
Before anyone could fantasize too far, Wanda's voice cut the excitement like a cold wind.
"First ask your parents' permission," she said quickly and seriously. She wasn't only addressing Daphne: she knew that if one of them tried it, they all would.
The sparkle left Daphne's eyes in an instant; not so much because of danger, but because of what her mother would likely say if she saw her turned into a fluffy creature. Daphne, being Daphne, didn't want to miss an opportunity to cause trouble, but she did fear the maternal reprimand.
Still she didn't give up: she approached Wanda, put on that childlike smile that melted hearts and gently shook her aunt's arm with coquettish charm.
"Come on, Aunt Wanda, you can help us. We could be cute, fluffy, furry little animals. Can you convince my mum?" she pleaded with calculated sweetness.
Wanda looked at her, amused. "If you want, I can turn you into a small animal without needing the Animagus ritual," she offered softly, as if giving a wildcard.
Harry watched his mother and thought that in any ordinary witch or wizard's hands it would be a charming prank. With Wanda it was different: what she offered wasn't a joke; it was a real and dangerous possibility.
Daphne, without thinking much, shook her head. "No, thanks." Her face changed in a fraction of a second: she had dreamed about it, but the reality of becoming… something with paws frightened her now.
...
A couple of minutes passed as they chatted as if they were in the common room, not in the discipline committee's office where a student would normally be punished. Suddenly Benoît returned running, sweaty and out of breath, dragging behind him something heavy: Harry's golem, with the twins gagged and tied at its side. The metal contraption shook in every direction, trying to break free.
"Headmistress, here it is," Benoît panted as he wiped the sweat from his brow.
The golem emitted a muffled growl: "mmm mmm," a mix of protest and rattling, its metallic mouth unable to move because of the gag. It tried to speak with restrained fury.
Harry and Draco looked at it with critical interest.
"Why are you acting like your mouth is taped? Your voice doesn't come from vocal cords; the mouth is only aesthetic," Draco said with mockery, raising an eyebrow.
The golem froze dead still, as if Draco had pointed out its existential wound. There was a small silence, a moment in which even the plaster on the ceiling seemed to swallow a chuckle. Then, with the dignity of one who knows he is pompous and refuses to admit it, it cleared its "throat"—despite having none—and burst forth in a voice that thundered from its mechanical chest.
"Ahem! Damned scoundrels! How dare you treat a knight of the Round Table thusly? I am the great Cadogan. Release me and I shall pierce your hearts with my sword! Only a duel to the death and defeating me will free you from my vengeance, scoundrels and infamous agitators of cheap wands."
The voice came with all the pomp imaginable, though the golem's mouth barely moved; it was obvious the sound came from a hidden mechanism, perhaps the chest hatch that recited bravado with excessive drama. All of it made the golem seem, more than fearsome, ridiculous.
Harry let out a long, resigned sigh. Once again, his experiment had chosen the least practical shape: a grandiose knight in a metal body, incapable of keeping decorum or functioning properly.
Hermione rolled her eyes. Ginny bit her lip to keep from laughing. Astoria didn't even seem to care and laughed openly. Luna watched with keen interest and even crouched to give the golem gentle taps on the head. The twins, eyes wide with intrigue, were already planning how to turn that speech into their next line of promotional sweets. Benoît, for his part, surveyed the scene with the expression of someone who has just discovered that his job was not exactly what he expected.
Cadogan, oblivious to the commotion, continued roaring honorable threats—because if anything is indispensable in life, it was a knight who didn't know when to shut up.