Chapter 41: "We never use Transfiguration to punish students"

Hermione asked in disbelief, "Irina, where did you get the catnip?" 

Irina stuck out her tongue mischievously and leaned in to whisper in Hermione's ear, her breath tickling the other girl's lobe and making her face flush slightly.

"When I was preparing at home over the summer, I learned about the advanced Transfiguration concept of Animagi - wizards who can transform into animals. One of the registered Animagi with the Ministry is Professor McGonagall, who becomes a cat!"

Hermione's eyes widened incredulously. "So you knew that tabby was Professor McGonagall, and you still did that?!" 

As a consummate rule-follower, Hermione couldn't fathom Irina's cheek.

Irina just chuckled. "Oh, who could resist treating our adorable feline Head of House?"

Hermione rolled her eyes exasperatedly. Oh, Merlin's lacy stockings!

Just as she went to scold Irina further, Hermione noticed something terrifying and immediately fell silent. But the oblivious Irina plowed on recklessly.

"If Professor McGonagall hadn't transformed back so quickly, I would've had cat treats and toys ready for her!"

As Irina excitedly elaborated, a firm hand clamped down on her shoulder. She froze, slowly turning to face the stern witch looming behind her.

"Oh? Do show me these cat treats and toys, Miss Lowell," Professor McGonagall said tightly, her free hand clenched in barely restrained fury.

Taking in Hermione's helpless expression, Irina plastered on a tremulous smile. "P-Professor, you must have misheard. I would never..."

McGonagall's eyes flashed dangerously. "Would you care to guess whether I believe that, Miss Lowell?"

Facing McGonagall's murderous glare, Irina wisely refrained from her signature cheek and lowered her head meekly. 

Just as the tense classroom fell utterly silent, two familiar voices provided a timely distraction as Harry and Ron came barreling in late.

Sparing one grateful glance at the fuming McGonagall stalking towards the latecomers, Irina exhaled in relief. Thank Godric for Harry and Ron!

The two boys stood frozen, awaiting their sure dressing-down.

"Perhaps I should Transfigure one of you into a pocket watch," McGonagall said acidly, "then at least one of you might be on time."

Harry protested weakly, "We got lost, Professor."

"Then I shall turn you into a map instead," she countered. "Surely you don't need one to locate your seats?"

Dismissing them with a curt gesture, McGonagall turned back to the chastened Irina.

"Miss Lowell, you will remain behind after class."

Irina groaned theatrically, collapsing against the flustered Hermione. "I'm doomed!"

...

At lunchtime, Ernie Macmillan sidled up to whisper excitedly to Lynn, "Did you hear? That Gryffindor firstie Lowell actually fed catnip to Professor McGonagall while she was her Animagus cat form! Blimey, the nerve..." 

Lynn shot him a withering look. "And when did you become such a gossip, Macmillan?"

Though outwardly composed, Lynn's mind whirled. That cheeky lass actually dared provoke McGonagall like that? He would never dream of such insolence! 

So bold and daring...yet also incredibly reckless!

A stray thought surfaced - wasn't this Irina Lowell girl also a time-traveler?

Lynn's gaze slid to the Gryffindor table where the silver-haired girl laughed animatedly alongside Hermione, her delicate beauty and lilting giggles drawing admiring looks from surrounding boys. 

He shook his head, dismissing the notion. Even if she too came from the future, Irina posed no real threat this year. His most pressing danger was the Dark Lord lurking behind Quirrell's turban!

Speaking of which...Lynn stole a glance toward the smelly garlic-wrapped professor. Was Quirrell truly a double agent working for Voldemort? If so, the Dark Lord must have an extraordinarily high tolerance for foul odors.

... 

At 3:30 that afternoon, the first-years hustled down for their inaugural flying lesson. 

Irina, Hermione and the other Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years crowded the field, awaiting Madam Hooch's arrival. Harry and Ron, who had met the girls on the Hogwarts Express, stood nearby.

The gray-haired, hawk-eyed instructor strode briskly onto the pitch.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up!"

Irina eyed the old, twig-strewn brooms dubiously, half-expecting them to disintegrate mid-flight.

"Stick your right hand over the broom," Madam Hooch called, "and say 'Up!'"

A ragged chorus of "Up!" followed. Irina, however, automatically said "Birdie!"

Hermione shot her a puzzled frown. "What's that got to do with birds?" 

Realizing her mistake, Irina flushed and hastily corrected, "Up!" 

While Harry's broom obediently leapt into his hand and Hermione's merely rolled, Neville's refused to budge at all. Irina's rose partway before dropping - prompting her to unceremoniously kick it, sending it spinning until she snatched it mid-air.

Madam Hooch then demonstrated the proper mounting technique to avoid slipping off. She moved among them, correcting grips.

Finally, it was time for lift-off.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," she instructed sternly. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, then lean forward slightly and touch back down. On my whistle - three, two..." 

But Neville, terrified and jumpy, pushed off early before she could finish. 

"Boy, come back down!" Hooch cried futilely as Neville soared straight up like a released cork, his panicked wide eyes staring at the rapidly shrinking ground.

Losing his handgrip, Neville began sliding perilously sideways along the broom.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Irina, anticipating the accident, swiftly cast the Levitation Charm to slow Neville's descent.

(end of chapter)