Tranfiguration

The next day, a wave of exhaustion hit me, though not physical but mental.

After a moment of silence watching the dim sunlight wash over the walls, I slowly got up. Nobody in the room is awake yet - my habit of staying up late, I suppose.

I slipped away from my dormitories and sat on the closest armchair to the fireplace, where embers are crackling faintly.

Before long, Hermione arrived alone from the girl's side, carrying a stack of book almost half her height.

"Did you catch some decent sleep, Hermione?"

There was a momentary hesitation before her response.

"I must've dozed off before I realized it. The bed and room are just impeccably made. Harry, did you know that house elves are responsible for making all our beds and cooking of every meal?...", Hermione rambled on.

While she's distracted, I strolled up and took the pile from her hands.

"Alright then, shall we make our way to breakfast, my Lady?" I teased, a mischievous grin playing on my lips.

With a slight nod and a blush coloring Hermione's cheeks, we headed together toward the Great Hall.

As we navigated the corridors, my well-trained shadow ensured we encountered minimal dead ends, smoothly guiding us through the castle's quiet corridors. The occasional hoot of owls delivering morning letters echoed through the deserted halls, adding an eerie but comforting ambience to our journey.

Upon reaching the Great Hall, only a handful of students were scattered across the tables—some engrossed in revision, others absorbed in the morning news, and a few gossiping animatedly.

Hermione consulted our timetable while savoring her roasted potatoes. "Our first class is not until 10, when we have Transfiguration. Charms follows after lunch, and there are no other subjects afterwards."

"We ought to go early for both, though, seeing as we're unfamiliar with the castle.", I pointed out.

Hermione nodded in agreement, and after finishing our breakfast, we joined the trickle of students making their way to the classrooms.

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General POV:

Classroom 307, Transfiguration

Professor McGonagall, in her Animagus form, occupied her desk as she did in previous years. She took pride in teaching one of the most profound branches of magic, yet lamented that her knowledge often surpassed the comprehension of her students.

This year, with the arrival of the Boy-Who-Lived, she hoped for a promising student who could carry on her legacy. The orphaned son of Lily and James Potter, one of her most gifted pupils, was also beginning his first year. Hearing that Dumbledore had left him with Muggle relatives, she lowered her expectations, considering that he might not be accustomed to magic.

Soon, two students—a girl with bushy ginger hair and a thin boy with round glasses—entered the classroom. The boy gave her a respectful bow, which she returned, before taking their seats. Lost in their own world, the pair immersed themselves in the textbook, occasionally muttering under their breaths.

If her eyes are not tricking her, the boy's shadow seems to not mirror some of his movements at all - yet, she knew no transfiguration is able to give the intangible shadow a life of its own, dismissing it as a trick of light.

To her disappointment, Neville Longbottom arrived late, followed by a breathless Ron Weasley.

"Whew! Made it! Can you imagine the look on Professor McGonagall's face if we were late?", Ron panted.

Professor McGonagall, or rather the tabby cat, leapt up and transformed into the emerald-robed witch with a stern look on her face.

"That was brilliant!", exclaimed Ron, oblivious to what he just said moments ago.

"Thank you for that assessment, Mr. Weasley. Perhaps, it'd be more useful if I were to transfigure Mr. Longbottom and yourself into a pocketwatch. That way, one of you might be on time.", scolded professor McGonagall.

"We got lost.", excused Neville.

"Then perhaps a map? I trust you don't need one to find your seats.", said the professor as she returned to face the class. Neville and Ron hurried to their seats and stayed silent.

Back to Harry's POV:

After turning her table into a pig, gasps rippled through the classroom. Glancing at Hermione, I saw "The Standard Book of Spells" already open, ready for the lesson. The demonstration had certainly caught all students' attention.

"I don't think we'll be doing that anytime soon, though," I muttered under my breath.

As the class progressed, Professor McGonagall distributed matches for us to transfigure into needles, quickly dampening the excitement of most students. For the next 40 minutes or so, none succeeded.

At my 10th attempt, the match turned halfway pointy and shiny and a voice sounded in my mind: "Tranfiguration magic acquired. +10 Tranfiguration. 10/100 until the next level."

By the end of the class, I had heard the notification twice more, achieving a perfect transformation at the same time as Hermione.

Impressed by our results, Professor McGonagall cast her discerning gaze over the room. "Well done, Mr. Potter and Miss Granger," she acknowledged, her stern expression softening momentarily. "Your dedication to mastering Transfiguration is commendable."

The room buzzed with whispers as students exchanged surprised glances. Professor McGonagall continued, her voice carrying authority, "In recognition of your exemplary efforts, I shall award Gryffindor house five points each."

A ripple of applause followed, and the Gryffindor table erupted in cheers. Hermione beamed with pride, her eyes sparkling, while I couldn't help but crack a grin.