Chapter Text
Before long, the other students in the class filed in, and as the clock approached the hour McGonagall - somewhat reluctantly - disengaged from Harry's rather pleasant scratches before leaping off her desk and resuming her human form, staring out at everyone.
"Wicked!" Ron blurted out.
Harry gave him a slightly bemused glance. "...is that a compliment to a witch? I'm not certain."
"H-Harry!" Hermione yelped, looking scandalized. "Y-you were just...petting our teacher!"
"...and?"
"S-she's our teacher!" She gestured wildly at the woman.
He looked over at McGonagall. "You don't have a problem with it, do you Professor?"
"If I had, I would not have held still for it for so long, now would I?" She replied, with a hint of mild amusement.
"Didn't think so." He looked back at Hermione. "So why do you?"
"But...but..." Hermione stammered, looking like she'd just been shown proof that 2 × 2 really equaled durian.
"She was a cat. Looked like a cat, smelled like a cat, acted like a cat...so I treated her like a cat." He gave her a quizzical look. "What's the problem?"
"There truly isn't one." McGonagall cut in. "It's quite alright Mr. Potter, Miss Granger. This is something that many of our Muggleborn students have difficulty adjusting to with magic...specifically, the social aspects of it. As an Animagus, the instinctive behaviors and reactions of my animal form are a part of me...and as a cat, I do enjoy indulging in the more harmless of them."
Ron stared at her. "...how much trouble have Fred and George gotten into trying to sneak catnip into the school?"
"That, Mr. Weasley, is none of your concern." She responded primly.
Harry snorted. "What, do they buy leniency by supplying it instead?"
"HARRY!" Hermione cried, looking even more scandalized.
McGonagall allowed an amused smirk to show. "Do sit down, Mr. Potter. Transfiguration is a subject I take most seriously, and class has begun."
"Heh, notice cat-teach didn't answer! Something to keep in mind, eh ainiki?" Erza chirped in amusement.
The class listened intently as McGonagall gave her introduction speech to the class, turning her desk onto a pig and back in the process.
Once she was finished - and warning that anyone messing around in the class wouldn't be coming back - she gave them their first lesson; turning a match into a needle.
"Bloody hell, Potter! What's that!?" A student started when Harry took his wand out.
"My wand." He replied bluntly, the polished stone glinting slightly.
"Wands are supposed to be made of wood!" Someone else called out.
"Too flammable."
"While wood is the expected material, some young magic users require a custom wand. " McGonagall explained. "Due to their magic being...particularly unique, especially if the more standard ones don't work well."
"Why would the 'standard' ones not work for you, Harry?" Hermione asked, slightly puzzled.
He grimaced some. "Too many felt like coffins."
"...coffins?" Ron blanched a little.
"What else do you call a corpse wrapped in wood?"
A few others paled when it finally sank on, until McGonagall got their attention as the matches were handed out.
FWOOSH!
"Hm." Harry gave the ashes in front him a slightly annoyed glare before McGonagall gave him another.
FWOOSH!
"Bloody..." He muttered, brushing away the still smoking remains...
FWOOSH!
"Dammit...!" He grumbled, glaring at the scorched table in front of him.
"Ainiki...maybe try poking the end that isn't coated in extra-flammable material?" Erza suggested.
"It's wood, what part of it ISN'T flammable?" He glared at match number four.
"Well, the red end is meant to ignite, after all." She said. "Maybe try poking the other end instead? Might not burn so easily."
He took a deep breath to calm himself, then focused on the other tip of the match, the tip of his wand barely touching the naked wood.
A brief flash arced from his wand, then the match swiftly began to warp and shift. Before long it had taken on a curved, silver shape with an eye at one end and a sharp point at the other. While it was certainly a needle, it looked not unlike a silver claw, with the eye resembling a small flame.
Harry staring at the flame eye. "...maybe I should have scraped that bit off first?"
"Why?" Erza hopped around the needle. "I think it looks cool!"
"Well, I certainly didn't expect someone to accomplish it so soon..." McGonagall noted, seeing the results as she made her way around the class. "Especially after what happened to your prior three matchsticks."
"Erza thought I was poking the wrong end." He replied, holding up the needle.
"...a distinct possibility, if your magic has any fire affinity. ...something to keep in mind, perhaps, Mr. Finnigan!" She looked pointedly at Seamus after his own match exploded in his face.
"...not quite what I pictured..." He muttered.
"Still an impressive needle, especially so quickly." The approval in her voice was evident. "...ten points to Gryffindor, Mr. Potter. Feel free to keep trying, and see if you can achieve a more traditional shape...or at least one that can be used for sewing."
The remainder of the class consisted of the others working on their own needles, and occasionally looking over to Harry while he made the attempt to reshape his needle...or, at the very least, make another one that was less...intimidating...in design.
Unfortunately, he didn't have much success by the time class ended. The only other one to make significant progress was Hermione, who had managed to make her matchstick turn silver and pointy.
As everyone gathered their things, one of the other Professors arrived at the door. "Ah, Minerva!" the diminutive yet smiling Professor Flitwick spoke up as he arrived at the door. "The Headmaster asked me to escort Mr. Potter to his office, since I had a few minutes avail at the start of this free period."
"What-oh, right," Harry replied as he gathered his things. "First free period. So he wants to finish the talk too? Good."
"Indeed he does," Flitwick replied readily. "He's never been one to leave things to fester if it could be avoided."
"Don't worry about your things, Mr. Potter," McGonagall instructed him. "I'll have a house-elf take them back to your dorm."
The two had just left the room when Flitwick looked at Harry's shoulder, and it's occupant. "Ah, and this is...young Erza, if I heard correctly?" He gave her an appreciative look. "Your fairy...no, fairy dragon familiar? I can feel the dragon magic in her as well as you, Mr. Potter."
Harry almost froze mid-step. "...dragon ma-"
"Oh! He must be part goblin!" Erza chirped. "Goblins know dragons better than any of the other 'civilized' magicals."
"Part goblin? Like the ones at the bank?"
Flitwick chuckled. "Ah, how perceptive of her! Yes, I do have goblin blood. It's not something I am ashamed of, but also not something I speak of freely. Much of wizarding society is...distressingly judgmental of mixed breeding, you see."
"...are assholes, you mean?" Harry said flatly.
"Ha! Yes, I would certainly agree!" He allowed himself a cackle. "I'm not surprised at just how direct you are, Mr. Potter. But tell me, why does Erza still keep up her glamor? She has no need of it at Hogwarts, and - despite Mr. Weasley's foolhardy attempt - none here would seek to harm her."
A wicked smirk formed on his face.
"Ainiki, noooooo!" Her wings buzzed.
"She forgot the gesture to dispel it."
"Ainikiiii...!" She whined, trying to stomp on his shoulder.
"Oh dear, I can see the problem. But does she remember the gesture she used to apply it?"
"Oh, sure I do!" She made the 'wax on' gesture from Karate Kid.
"...have you tried reversing it?" Harry asked.
"...you're kidding me." Erza did the 'wax off' gesture...
With a flicker, her Glamor vanished.
"Ahhh!" Flitwick exclaimed. "And aren't you a true beauty, Erza." He stared, enraptured, as he continued to lead Harry through the halls.
Erza stood in silence for a second. "...you're fucking kidding me! All this time stuck with it on and it was just doing the reverse!" She proceeded to rant and swear in three different languages...despite still speaking draconic.
Harry gave the diminutive teacher a look, ignoring Erza's swearing. "...she doesn't look any different to me."
"Well, you could see through her glamor before, Mr. Potter." Flitwick replied. "Trust me, it is truly a different look now."