Work Text:
“Vera Verto.” Harry stared at the goblet that used to be Ron’s pet rat. Wow, it even had a tail. Granted, the spell had failed, as had all Ron’s spells as of late, but… It did come as a welcome distraction from the frenzy that had taken over the school. And his knack to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Harry didn’t know many offensive spells, nor defensive. He was truly and well a beginner, but he was also twelve years old and entitled to a bit of well-meaning ignorance. He stored the information about the spell somewhere in the back of his brain – was it even legal to transfigure your opponent into a goblet? Was it even possible? Harry was no Ravenclaw, but humans were not that different from animals biologically. They just liked to complicate their lives a bit more. Before he could decide on whether this was a stupid idea though, the distraction was over. The topic of conversation again became the school’s not quite murderous yet but nevertheless petrifying atmosphere.
The year went on and so did the quite queer happenings at the castle. With a supposed monster lying in the wait not unlike a snake in the grass, learning to duel seemed like a great idea at the time. Only Hermione still argued that it was a great idea when Gilderoy Lockhart was the one teaching it.
The reptile Draco conjured seemed pretty harmless. It was pretty in a way, and Harry wasn’t scared of snakes. How could he be when he once set a python on his cousin? Snakes had a good rep with him, except if they were human and went by the name of Draco Malfoy – just because he had green eyes didn’t mean he liked everything green.
Before Lockhart could do anything stupid, Harry waved his wand and said, “Vera Verto.” He wasn’t really thinking, the move was as automatic as surviving the Killing Curse. And the spell worked. Instead of a beautifully slithering companion, on the podium stood a beautiful glass goblet that glinted green in the light.
“You go, Harry!” the Gryffindors cheered.
Later that day, Harry commented on his relationship with snakes to Ron and Hermione. Apparently, talking to snakes was a big deal. And a whole other language. Wow, he had really dodged a bullet. If the school had witnessed him chatting up a harmless creature, they might have believed he was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin.
Fighting a basilisk was not on Harry’s to-do list in his second year, or life. Lord Trolldemort seriously had to stop messing with his life! But, he had to try. That was his best friend’s little sister lying there, and even if she wasn’t Ginny. What kind of a creep murders a little girl to return from a restless not-slumber?
(Tom I’m-a-half-blood-but-also-a-blood-supremacist Riddle, that’s who.)
All he could think about after the encounter was that he was an idiot for dropping his wand and that he should have tried the Vera Verto spell on the giant snake. Last time, it worked so nicely.
Sirius Black was really lucky he was still functionally human. After all, you never know whether the transfiguration will be dysfunctionally lethal.
(But Sirius Black was as dysfunctional as could be, so some things were still up for debate.)
The one time Harry shouldn’t have used the Vera Verto spell was at the end of his third year, saving Sirius Black. The spell had worked, miraculously. Dementors can be turned into depressingly dark goblets. The problem was that he tried to use it on an army of black cloaks waiting to devour his and Sirius’ soul, and one cannot cast a Vera Verto spell large enough to encompass the entire Forbidden Forest. Lucky his dad came to save him.
(Hold on, was his patronus a goblet?)
Dragons were not the most suitable of targets either. The Hungarian Horntail Harry was facing was too vicious and viscous to turn into a goblet. Maybe it would help if she wasn’t trying to burn his face off.
“Harry, use your broom, you can’t get the dragon to be still enough!” Hermione shouted from the stands, and Harry had to reluctantly agree. Although… thinking back to the times he performed it, the spell did come unnaturally naturally to him. He didn’t even have to tap the target anymore. Merlin, the dragon! Now was not the time to question his decisions. Time to transfigure a dragon.
“So, Harry,” said Dumbledore quietly. “Before you got lost in my thoughts, you wanted to tell me something.”
Harry pushed the Pensieve to the back of his mind. He tried to remember what he came there to tell him, but he was distracted by yet another thought.
“Professor? Where is Fawkes?” It was perhaps a stupid question. Of course Fawkes was quite an independent bird and could afford to spend a large quantity of time on his own. However… His usual place of residence seemed quite abandoned, like the bird was no longer in Dumbledore’s care (or Dumbledore in the bird’s?).
“Ah,” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled, “at Hogwarts, of course. He’s been having quite a year as the goblet of fire. Vera Verto… A useful spell, don’t you think?”
His eyes twinkled even more. Harry could not tell if Dumbledore was for real. As he finally remembered what he wanted to tell the old wizard, he concluded that he probably was.
The graveyard trembled with anticipation. As Voldemort shouted, “Avada Kedavra!”, Harry cried “Vera Verto!” Voldemort lowered his wand, shocking Harry into doing the same.
“Vera… Verto?” Voldemort asked, more baffled than ever, and he had inhabited the back of a man’s head for a good part of a year.
“Oh, my bad,” said Harry. “I meant… Expelliarmus!” Harry raised his wand, just as Voldemort struck with the green lightning again.
The rumour had it that Voldemort was heard repeating, “Vera Verto? Vera Verto?” in confused whispers for days after the duel. None of the Death Eaters were brave, or suicidal, enough to confirm the tale, but to this day it is believed he never truly got over the incident.
It was the final battle. The battle that would decide the fate of the wizarding world. Two fated opponents, Harry and Voldemort, stood across each other as they each what they did best – Voldemort, preparing to kill, and Harry, improvising and not having any idea what he was doing.
“This is it,” The Boy Who Lived whispered to himself. “This is the day I finally show my skill to the world.” He had been preparing for this from the moment he entered the chambers of Hogwarts. He had been taking one step at a time towards this terrifying encounter, sometimes a leap or two – you never know when you’re about to miss a step on the castle’s stairways. All his magical skill, poured into this moment. One wave of a wand. Neither can live while the other survives. One… Two… Three…
“Vera Verto!”
Voldemort’s eyes widened. In that moment he looked more human than ever. Not that spell again! In his stupor, he let his wand hang limply in his hand and stared blankly at the burst of light. His arms became glass first. His legs followed suit, and finally, the rest of his body. The goblet that stood in the place of Lord Voldemort shook vigorously once, twice, and promptly fell to the ground, breaking into eight equally sized pieces.
The entire castle fell eerily quiet. No one dared take a breath. On the scene of the duel, there was only one person standing, standing over the glass pieces of Lord Voldemort. Harry Potter’s solemn expression was contrasted by the shock and confusion of his allies and enemies alike.
“Is… he dead?” a girl in the crowd asked.
Harry shrugged. “I suppose so.” His gaze was fixed on the broken pieces. He didn’t dare touch them. “A shame he fell apart. He would have made a splendid goblet.”
“But the Vera Verto spell isn’t supposed to work this way!” another wizard exclaimed, half in relief at the supposed defeat of He Who Must Not Be Named and half in indignation at breaking the rules of transfiguration.
“Well,” Harry mused, giving his best impression of Dumbledore’s trademark all-knowing I-won’t-tell-you-shit smile, “magic.”
His eyes twinkled, the Elder Wand now securely in his hand, and his friends joined him as he walked into the sunset.