Transfiguration and Flying

We stumbled into the Great Hall for lunch, my legs still a bit wobbly from the troll incident. The enchanted ceiling showed a perfect autumn sky, though I could still make out that one persistent star twinkling above everything else. Bell was already waiting for us at the mess hall, the three of us went in and sat at the Ravenclaw table, I was gonna uproot this stigmatism from the houses which I realized I liked less and less the more time went by, and I had only been here for a day for Merlin's sake that's how bad it was.

"You look awful," Bell signed as I collapsed onto the bench.

"Thanks," I signed back, reaching for a sandwich. "Fighting trolls will do that to you."

Her eyes widened. "You fought a what?"

I launched into the story, my hands flying through the signs so fast I had to repeat several parts. Drake occasionally corrected my more dramatic embellishments ("The troll was not twenty feet tall, Felix"), but mostly let me have my moment.

The other Ravenclaws nearby leaned in to listen adding information of their own about how they threw desks and all that. Even a few Hufflepuffs from the next table over seemed to be listening in though they tried to pretend they weren't eavesdropping.

By the time I finished, most of my energy had returned, helped along by three sandwiches and several pumpkin pasties though I really really wanted ice cream which sadly there wasn't any for some reason. Honestly, what kind of magical school didn't serve ice cream at lunch?

The bell rang far too soon, and Drake headed off to Potions along with Bell. I joined my fellow Ravenclaws as we made our way to Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs. The classroom was bright and airy, with tall windows letting in streams of autumn sunlight that cast long shadows across the stone floor.

Professor McGonagall stood at the front of the classroom, her emerald robes perfectly pressed and her square glasses glinting in the afternoon light. She had the kind of presence that automatically silenced a room - no one dared whisper or fidget as she began taking attendance. Everything about her radiated authority and precision. She definitely didn't feel like a Gryffindor more like a Slytherin or a Ravenclaw a very tight up Ravenclaw but definitely not Gryffindor.

"Transfiguration," she announced as the class began, her voice crisp and clear, "is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

She turned sharply and transformed her desk into a pig and back again. The class broke into appreciative applause, though I was more interested in studying the magical theory behind it. The transformation had involved a complete restructuring of matter - would my "I Cast" magic work for something like that? I mean when I summoned fireballs they entered the school of transmutation but weirdly enough I didn't think that was where they belonged.

"Today," McGonagall continued, "we will be starting with something simpler. You will attempt to turn matches into needles."

She demonstrated the wand movement and incantation, then distributed matches to everyone.

"Begin," McGonagall instructed.

I closed my eyes, recalling how her magic had felt during the desk transformation, just like I had done with Professor Flitwick's example. I kept on recalling it over and over again. Then I began.

"Transmutare," I whispered, focusing intently on the match.

Nothing happened. I had felt my magic move but it hadn't followed the same path as my wand.

Frowning, I tried again. Still nothing. Around me, other students weren't having much more luck - though Penelope Clearwater had managed to make her match slightly silvery.

I concentrated for a second on how my wrist moved, recalling and rereading McGonagall's own efforts over and over. I thought and reread.

"Transmutare."

To my surprise, the match immediately turned into a perfect needle. McGonagall awarded five points to Ravenclaw, though I noticed her watching me thoughtfully for the rest of the class.

I then recalled how my magic had moved, over and over. I realized something - my magic didn't seem to follow the line of my wand like it had for charms. No, this time my magic formed two distinct shapes inside me, the matchstick and the needle, as for the wand movement it was like a bridge between the two.

I shut my eyes closed and remade it. I didn't move my wand around; I was solely focused on manipulating the magic inside me, making it into their forms and creating the line, over and over, and over.

I then looked back at the matchstick and moved my wand. Immediately it turned into a silver needle. I smiled. I grabbed a few more matchsticks, lining them up. I focused on my magic, creating as many matchsticks and needles in my magic and uniting them. Once I had them done, I spoke just to be sure.

"Transmutare."

The entire row of matchsticks turned into a pack of needles. I smiled even wider, this didn't feel that hard of a subject. Soon it was the end of the class and I left talking with Adrian Chen who had asked me in the class about how to transmute. I tried my best to help, and he had been able to transmute a single matchstick by the end of the class.

Time passed and soon it was time for our final class of the day - Flying (until the night when we would start astronomy), held on the training grounds with all four houses. Madam Hooch, with her short grey hair and yellow hawk-like eyes, had us line up beside the school brooms. The autumn wind rustled through the grass, making the brooms twitch slightly where they lay.

"Stick your right hand over your broom," she instructed, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

My broom didn't even twitch. Bell's jumped straight into her hand, while Drake's rose halfway before falling back down. I tried again, growing increasingly frustrated as the broom continued to ignore me.

"I Cast Gravity Upheaval," I muttered under my breath. I was cheating, so what?

The broom shot up so fast it smacked me in the face.

"Ow!"

"Don't use wingardium leviosa, Mr. Serendipity!" Madam Hooch called out. "The broom must respond to your command naturally!"

Rubbing my nose, I glared at the broom now lying innocently on the ground. Several students were snickering, including Bell, who signed "smooth" at me with a grin.

When everyone finally had their brooms in hand (mine eventually cooperated after five more attempts), Madam Hooch showed us how to mount them without sliding off the end. She walked up and down the rows correcting grips. I felt a small surge of satisfaction when she told Marcus Flint he'd been doing it wrong for years, did I mention he still had the zipper the while was turning out to be a pretty long while.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two - one..."

The whistle blew, and I kicked off hard - too hard. The broom shot straight up like a rocket, completely ignoring my panicked attempts to level off. Twenty feet... thirty feet... forty feet...

"Mr. Serendipity!" Madam Hooch's voice seemed very far away. "Lean forward! FORWARD!"

I tried, but the broom had other ideas. It began spinning in lazy circles, completely indifferent to my increasingly desperate commands. Below, I could see Bell doubled over with silent laughter while Drake looked torn between amusement and concern.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, Madam Hooch got me back on the ground with a clever bit of wandwork. My legs were shaking, and I had a newfound respect for anyone who willingly got on these death traps.

"Perhaps we should start you on the practice broom," she suggested kindly. "The one with the built-in stabilizing charms."

I nodded weakly. Seriously, who the hell needed brooms?

The rest of the lesson passed in a blur of basic maneuvers that I performed with all the grace of a drunken troll, I said drunken because I had faced a sober one not long ago and they moved much better than they had any right to.

By the end, even the practice broom seemed to have given up on me, listing sadly to the left whenever I tried to fly in a straight line.

"Well," Drake said as we headed back to the castle, "at least you're good at everything else?"

I shot him a dirty look, still picking bits of grass out of my hair from my last landing attempt. Bell just patted my shoulder sympathetically, though I noticed she was still fighting back giggles.

"I don't need to fly anyway," I muttered. "That's what apparition is for."

Still, as we walked back, I couldn't help but think that I would make something that would make flying easier, none of this broom shit, what was it 1692! I couldn't wait to start making enchanted objects of my own.

I really needed to start making a list of all these projects.

A/N: The more ps you use the more extra chapters I'll upload: Top 100: +1 bonus chapter, Top 50: +2 bonus chapters, Top 20: +3 bonus chapters, Top 10: +4 bonus chapters, Top 5: +4 bonus chapters, Top 3: +5 bonus chapters, Top 2: +6 bonus chapters, Top 1: +8 bonus chapters.

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