Greetings once again, dear SOUP readers. I would say that it's a pleasure to be stepping into another exciting spell-casting instalment with you all, but this time I have to confess that I would be lying if I made such a statement. This month, I have been in a somewhat foul mood, and it has been extremely difficult for me not to voice my disgust for this month's theme. Not only have the dear Editors forced us to delve into the abhorrent world of celebrities, but they have also insisted that we try to poke our wands into those distasteful and frankly disgusting attempts at currying favour known as the "Slug Club" parties.
Now, I know that may come across as a distinctly bitter response to their suggestions, but I promise you it is well warranted. During my time at Hogwarts, I was unfortunate enough to catch the eye of that obsequious Professor, and I spent many an evening hiding in the Library to avoid his invitations. He said that it was because I had a particular talent for potions, but I strongly suspect that it was his way of trying to wrangle an invitation to meet Mummy. He did mention her frequently, and her profession as a renowned portrait artist. That is something that would never happen, of course. I strongly suspect that Mummy would be more likely to tip a bucket of paint over his head than invite him to one of her galleries or shows. But of course, I could not say that to his face without getting into trouble, now could I?
However, during our holidays, Mummy and I really did have a lot of giggles at his expense. Which brings me to the spell I wish to share with you this month. My dear mother and I have long suspected that Professor Slughorn is not nearly as popular or influential as he likes people to believe. We have several theories that liken him to that other fantastical fake, Gilderoy Lockhart. That particular "author" was gifted with memory charms, and I strongly suspect that Professor Slughorn has had a similar thought about his representations of himself. I am very sure that I am not the only one who suspects something fishy happening in those hundreds of pictures of celebrities that he so fondly displays everywhere he goes.
So if they are somehow altered or faked, how would he do it? Mummy was very astute in pointing out that it would be easy to do if he had somehow learned the Picture Editing Spell that some artists use to replace certain elements of a picture after they have finished it. It is one that Mummy learned as she is very particular about having realistic eyes in her pictures, which are notoriously difficult to paint well. This spell means that she can directly copy the eyes of her subject and imprint them into the picture before blending them into the rest of the face. It would be the same for the Professor as all he would need to do is use the spell to imprint a copy of himself into any photograph or painting.
For those of you who are unaware of the spell I mean, I will describe it for you. The incantation for the Picture Editing Spell is Exemima Reponere, which is pronounced Ex-em-EE-ma REP-on-air. It is Latin in origin and loosely translates from the words "Exemplum" - To Copy, "Imaginum" - Image and "Reponere" - To Replace. We do not know its exact origin as it is usually passed down by word of mouth from Master to Apprentice and has been for many centuries, I believe. I've seen Mummy cast it many times, and it appears to be fairly easy to learn and produces consistently good results as long as you focus on the specific image you wish to create. The wand movement is a slow horizontal figure of eight motion between yourself and the picture you want to insert yourself or your subject into. If you cast it correctly, your wand will emit a soft, rose-pink light for the duration of the spell. To end it, you simply flick your wand sharply to the left, away from your finished picture. I do not recommend doing this, though, until you are absolutely sure you have the result you desire before you. Mummy also suggests not trying to cast this spell non-verbally as it will result in your wand emitting a flash of dull, puce green light that will turn your stomach, and no one wants that, now do they?
So, with that knowledge now at hand, what do you all think, my dear readers? Do you believe in the stories the Professor tells of his impressive collection of favourites, or are you as dubious of his influence as Mummy and I are? Whichever camp you fall into, I will just say one thing. Watch your backs. Once you are on his radar, his pestilential owls will never stop. So be warned!
Now that's said, I have to shoot off and hide to avoid yet another of his unwarranted invitations. Wish me luck! - Nikita