F' = m'a + a'm

Ok. Now, only eat the orange one.

Alexandria thinks for a minute, before rolling across the desk and eating the apple, banana, and orange. Hmm, a true glutton after my own heart.

We'll work on that later…

I shove Alexandria back into my pocket as Professor Flitwick takes the metaphorical stage.

Then more theory… Yay… I mean, I understand that these guys have like a couple hundred spells to teach over seven years across multiple classes, but why not something fun?

Oh, wait. Right, Flitwick's the good teacher.

"Everybody have their feathers?" He asks, looking around. Yeah, I just zoned out for half of the class. It probably won't end too badly. Just apply a great enough force to overcome gravity. Nothing too hard.

I flick and swish my wand, making sure to say, "Wingardium Leviosa." What? Have to make Flitwick feel appreciated. I think that the blank stares of the students and Flitwick explain the effects of my spell.

A simple overcharge. A miscalculation, some would say. One that leads to everyone having a sudden interest in the ceiling and the new hole through it.

Sunlight streams down, decorating my desk with its golden beams. I wave those beams away. They don't fit my aesthetic. At all.

"Umm…" Professor Flitwick calls out; the first one to regain his wits. Quite worthy of Ravenclaw, if I say so. "What—What exactly did you do?"

"I was hoping to overcome the 9.80991 m/s² that gravity exerts…" I reply while staring at the ceiling. Gotta pretend to be a little shellshocked, too. "I think I overdid it a little."

Flitwick, in his infinite professionalism, takes this with stride. Oh, wait. I just peeked into his mind. Yeah, he understands that nonpure humans might be treated with difficulties in school. Hmm. Okay! "Well, Miss Archimedes, you may retrieve another feather and try again. Just…be a little more careful this time. Restraint is key!" Okay, a little admonishing.

He waves his wand and the roof starts repairing itself. Well, more of, he issued a command to the school to repair the hole that goes through several floors.

A tentacle does an Ouroboros to create a portal, then to not do a Portal 2, I create a bubble around the portal to pluck a feather out of the rip. Shaking off the ice, I attempt the spell again.

This is the same feather, by the way.

Just grabbed from an altitude of 15,000 km.

Now, adding a metaphorical dimmer switch instead of a throw one for my magic, the feather gently floats around. Thomas tries to teach me how magic works. Something about a subatomic particle that can become any other 'regular' particle. How my dimmer would be more of a potentiometer.

I don't care! Magic is magic! I will things and they happen. Okay, Thomas?

Oh, the feather imprinted the wall. Great. I'll just fix that real quick.

"Miss Archimedes, congratulations on…figuring out the spell, but do try to practice control?" Ok, Professor. I nod in response.

Because I'm good, and I return acknowledgement and validation.

I float the feather back to my desk, lazily making it go up and down. Side to side. Spin in the four-dimensional plane it intersects, being perceived as moving in three. Everyone else, however, is still struggling with even making the feather float.

"Wonderful, Miss Archimedes! 10 points to Hufflepuff!"

Oh. Thank you. Back to what I was thinking, everyone is still struggling. Flitwick is shouting directions and help, but nobody can hear him over the chatter of about twenty to thirty students. Huh? Oh, he's doing hands-on help now. Yeah, that's probably better.

The boy to the right of me—a boy with dandruff-infested hair, big magnifying glasses, and robes that somehow need ironing—is currently jabbing at his feather in anger. The spell didn't work first time; he wasn't immediately a master at it, so he decided that since he can't just give up, he'll get angry.

This'll be good…

Little by little, sparks begin flying. It's small at first, infinitesimal to a human eye, but they grow. The grow and gather and collect their little packets of burning energy and die. But…they might soon become something greater.

I'd like to take a moment to explain something about these feathers. They aren't cheap feathers made of plastic or anything. No, they're real feathers.

And feathers are quite flammable.

The feather begins a new life aflame. Okay, I'm trying to be poetic here, give me some slack. Anyway, the feather caught on fire. In fact, the desk is wood and the various splinters on its surface are catching on fire, too.

"Aguamenti!" Flitwick shouts, sending a jet of water at the table, splashing me in the process. Somebody's going to die.

I grab the charred remains of the feather on the desk and chuck them into my mouth. Chewing a few times, I spit an unburnt feather on the desk. Various tentacles breach space and wipe up the water.

"Hmph!" I harrumph and cross my arms, slumping in my chair.

"Sorry, Miss Archimedes," Flitwick apologizes, then turns on the boy. "Mister Fogley, what were you doing?!"

"I dunno." He shrugs. I almost backhand him into next Tuesday for his attitude.

But I don't.

Flitwick sighs. "10 points from Hufflepuff." Then, he puts on a smile, walking over to help our dear Mister Fogley figure out the spell. I, however, am still pissed. I need comeuppance.

I'm going to go eat a star.