<span class="fixed-color" style="color:lightgreen"> <span style="font-family: 'arial'"><span style="font-size: 15px"><b><u>Antalya Venturi</u></b></span></span><br/>
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<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cccccc"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 255, 255)">Antalya focused her mind, gathered the mental image she had committed to memory. The Gnarled Blackthorn wand began to take shape. Over the last few weeks she had practiced this spell over and over, she was finally ready to cast it with full intent. Her wand had been an extension of her self for two centuries, if they expected her to to just hand it over they had better think again. The image locked in her mind. She opened her eyes and flicked the wand in her hand. With a tiny popping sound the blurred image of her wand floating in front of her became clear. It wavered in the air for a second then dropped. With a quick hand she whipped out and caught it with her free hand.</span> <span class="fixed-color" style="color:lightgreen">"Ha, that should do it!" <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 255, 255)">She now held a perfect identical copy of her wand in her left hand, her real one still grasped in her right.</span></span><br/>
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<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cccccc"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 255, 255)">With the amounts of magic she had poured into that spell the copy would be indistinguishable from her real wand. </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cccccc"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:lightgreen">"Now, for this next spell..." <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 255, 255)">She knew this next one was going to be the real kicker. She had combed through her family's library for the right spell book and had the dusty tomb laid out in her art room. The book was massive and most was indecipherable. Written in runes and languages long dead or known only by the oldest of creatures. The part she needed was near the end though, and thankfully it was written in a dialect of elvish she knew. Enchantment and transmutation of a focus, wand, or staff. Seemed straight forward enough, she knew her eldest brother had done it. Besides she only needed the transmutation part, the rest of the spell had to do with adding or taking away properties of the target. She could do without that. She began the incantation in her head and began the flourishes of the wand required for the spell. This pesky spell required the incantation to be repeated a hundred times. </span></span></span><br/>
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<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cccccc"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cccccc"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 255, 255)">She kept it up, keeping a tally in the back of her mind, until her arm began to tire. As she approached the hundredth time around the wand began to feel hot in her hand. It vibrated with arcane energy and began to pulse with different colored flashes of light. Right after the hundredth incantation was done she quickly plucked out one of her long red hairs, wrapped it around the wand, then slammed it into her arm. The wand seared with intense heat and the thorns dug into her flesh. Blood dripped to the floor as the wand melted into her arm. The wood of the wand became inky black and pushed its way into her arm. The gnarled branches of Blackthorn wrapped around her forearm burning as they went. She looked away and winced with the pain of it. She could barely stand the smell of it, like brimstone and burning hair mixed with cooked flesh. </span></span><br/>
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<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cccccc"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cccccc"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 255, 255)">In another instant it was done. The smell seemed to fade immediately and the pain became a dull ache. She inspected her arm. There was now an intricately detailed tattoo of her wand, it was stretched and wrapped around her inner forearm, thorns and all.</span> <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cccccc"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:lightgreen">"Well I'll be damned. It really worked." <span class="fixed-color" style="color:white">Only one sure way to find out, she thought. She pointed at the enormous dusty tomb laying open on her desk. With a swish and a flick of her 'wand' arm the book floated into the air. It hovered there as she maintained concentration, then she dropped it gently back on the desk. Well that solves that problem. They could enforce upon her any rule they wished, but this one was one that begged to be broken. She wouldn't be crippled right off the bat by relinquishing her wand. Too many areas of magic that would be tough to give up. Besides, she wasn't going to cheat. She had every intention to learn natural magics. It will surely come in handy to hold on to her spell knowledge for this first little while. Especially now that she had gotten better at removing the verbal component.</span></span></span><br/>
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Antalya was still admiring her handy work when the clock downstairs chimed loudly. Great 9AM already. She tossed the rest of the things she was taking with her into her carry bag. She pushed in outfit after outfit, remembering to quickly transmogrify all the materials into latex. She then piled in book after book and a few potions. Thinking to organize her bag-room later she then slid in her broom and her Pleasure-Rod-2000. Who knew what could come in handy in such a place, especially with a bunch of mundanes running around. She was just magically forming her latex suit around her when there was polite sounding knock on the door.  <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:lightgreen">"Just one minute please."<span class="fixed-color" style="color:white"> She decided to put a pleaded skirt on over the suit, dark red to match her blood red leather boots. The skin tight suit was all black and seemed a bit off to her. With another few quick swishes of her wand arm she made a few areas of the latex transparent. It now appeared as though her sleeves came to a few inches above her elbow with her shoulders also transparent. She made some cutting strokes with her wand arm and made the latex slide down to cup her breasts and pull up to expose her midriff slightly. She then wrapped a short black corset under her bust. All the latex was still there but the now clear parts were so tight against her that it almost appeared like her skin, but really shiny. The door knocked again, louder this time. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:lightgreen">"Right, right, I'm coming, don't get your breeches in a bunch."<span class="fixed-color" style="color:white"> As she grabbed the door handle she felt the beginnings of a familiar sensation. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 255, 255)"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:lightgreen">Great, I should have known."<span class="fixed-color" style="color:white"></span></span><br/>
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<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">Antalya popped into the Great Hall along side a hodge podge mix of Humans, Elves, and Ectoplasts. The head mistresses speech was fairly well done. She found herself surprised at how casual and yet nervous she seemed. Hadn't she been doing this for centuries? It was all well and good though, definitely put her at ease. Then the Man-O-War looking Ectoplast gave them instructions and reiterated the more obvious rules concerning safety with Ectoplasts. Antalya lined up with the rest and awaited her sorting.</span><br/>
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<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">When she finally approached the pedestal she couldn't believe she actually felt nervous. She heard some quiet snickers from behind her. Probably joking about her ears, she had heard it all before. Although the latex pointing up and covering them probably didn't help. She wished she had got a chance to check herself over in the mirror. She reached her hand out and touched the opal. After a brief but what felt like ages moment a loud voice rang out. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(44, 130, 201)">"Dragonnest!"</span></span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 255, 255)">Well from what she heard about each house, this was one she could go with. She moved towards her designated portal eyeing up the remaining students in line. She realized now that she was one of only a few that had augmented her latex. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 255, 255)"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:lightgreen">"Nice move moron."<span class="fixed-color" style="color:white"> She whispered to herself. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 255, 255)"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:lightgreen">As if your ears didn't bring enough attention your way."<span class="fixed-color" style="color:white"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>