Transfiguration

Your next class is Transfiguration. You find yourself sitting near Ezra and Jennifer, which is a stroke of luck. You were very excited for the class, but it turns out to be less than spectacular. Professor McGonagall entered the class room, and announced in a curt tone "Transfiguration is one of the most dangerous of all the arts you will learn here at Hogwarts. Anyone who fools around will leave, and will not return. You have been warned." She proceeded to take role. Before she calls your name she pauses, only for a moment, and calls "Marvolo Gaunt," as if you name had a sour taste.

When role-call was complete she began a lecture, explaining the dangers of Transfiguration, and giving you all a foundation for the art. She calls you by name a few times during the lecture, as if expecting you to be asleep, asking you questions that you are not entirely able to answer. "I expect you to pay close attention, class" she says after one of your feeble answers. "Even a momentary lapse in better judgment with transfiguration can cause catastrophe."

She then sets the class to work on the first practical exercise- turning a matchstick into a needle. Looking around, you see your classmates struggling, and it reassures you that perhaps you weren't the only person not naturally gifted with Transfiguration. You check your notes, and even consult your textbook, trying to gain insight. There seems to be more to it than what the Professor covered.

How can something change so fundamentally? Sure they are both small, but apart from that they are completely disimilar. One is carved, one is molded. The change needs some line of similarity to draw across doesn't it? You flip through pages desperately, as if you will find the answer just laid out in front of you. You hear McGonagall sniff sharply behind you as she walks through the class, surveying everyone's progress. Frustrated, you decide to break the problem down, you need the match to be made of metal, and you need the metal to be shiny and narrow.

Grabbing your wand, you focus your intent, and attempt to change the match. It is strangely exhausting, like you are flexing muscles that you never knew you had. Despite your efforts, you don't seem to make much progress, the match seems to remain the same. At one point the match seemed to shimmer, but it lasted only for a moment.

Meanwhile your fellow Ravenclaws had limited success. It appears that Raj managed to make his shiny and refelctive like a needle, and Professor McGonagall congratulated him. The class ends with McGonagall checking everyone's progress. You swallow as she nears your station. Everyone else has made some degree of progress, and you are staring lamely at your unmodified matchstick.

"I tried my best," you say softly as Professor McGonagall approaches. She looks down at you as if irritated. She reaches for your match and you flinch back. She pauses, her eyes searching you, and you see something; a softness? "Marvolo I would have hoped that you would have had something, at least after all the work you put into--" She stops, pinching the match between her fingers. "Ah, I see." she sets the matchstick down on your desk, and it clinks strangely. "Do you see what you've done Marvolo?" she asks. Gingerly you reach out and touch the match, it is strangely cool to the touch, and stiff. As realization dawns you feel a smile spreading across your face. "You've managed to change its substance, but not its appearance. It's slate, unless I've missed my mark. With practice you will be fine."

She turned sharply and walked away before you could say anything. Instead, you roll the matchstick between your fingers. This was the first time you had used magic for anything more than a simple hex or charm. You feel a rush of euphoria, this is what it must feel like to be a Wizard. Suddenly, you understand the attitude of the Slytherins.

Power is Glorious.

Wait, what?

Snapping out of your reverie you realize that McGonagall is dismissing class, admonishing you all to make sure you keep up with the readings, and not to practice without supervision. Grabbing your books and your wand you shuffle out with the rest of the class forgetting the strange thoughts as if they had never happened.