A Condom

Luna waves her wand over the slumbering schoolgirl, “Condunus Mutus!” With those simple words, Luna sits back to watch Hermione change. The transformation is rapid, but a persistent eye like Luna’s can spot Hermione’s body flattening to the height of a graham cracker, before compressing down to an inch-wide square of supple tan flesh. Her distorted features blend together until her warped flesh is smooth and flat. Her messy brown hair billows around her scrunched body and takes on a foiled sheen as it melts into a smooth wrapper which envelops her completely. She falls to the sheets lightly, the only sound of her total reconstitution a soft thump and some light crinkling.

Luna stuffs a few fingers between her thighs to staunch her dripping. She stoops and reaches out, plucking Hermione’s tiny new form from the bedsheets with her juice-stained fingers. Turning Hermione over to inspect her, Luna notes the seamless wrapping paper, dark brown like her hair was, and the thinly etched outline of a swimming otter printed plainly across the face of it.