67 Teacher
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Harry had already mastered the matchstick to needle transfiguration before arriving at Hogwarts. His previous creation was so intricate and detailed that it could have been considered a treasure by many. And he had accomplished this feat without the aid of a wand. Now, with a wand in hand, he visualized the needle in his mind's eye – silver, pointed, with a thicker base and an thread-eye at the base. His focus on detail was impeccable, drawing from his rich imagination. He envisioned a Quidditch match along the needle's length, a nod to Professor McGonagall's well-known passion for the sport. On one side, he crafted the colors of Slytherin, green and silver, and on the other, the bold red and gold of Gryffindor. The scene was complete from the poles to the players, Bludgers, and even the Snitch, which formed the tip of the needle, shimmering like the elusive golden ball.
Next, Harry considered the material transformation. A common beginner's mistake was to turn the wooden matchstick into a silver-colored wood instead of metal. He focused on the cold, metallic touch of a needle, its unique sound when tapped against a desk. With every detail vividly etched in his mind, Harry waved his wand. Magic took over, and the matchstick transmuted into a splendidly crafted needle – a blend of silver and gold, adorned with green and red accents.
McGonagall, her eyes catching the light reflecting off the extraordinary needle, approached Harry's desk. The class fell silent, their eyes fixed on the professor as she reached out to inspect the needle.
"This is... quite remarkable, Mr. Potter," she said, her voice tinged with a blend of surprise and admiration. The needle glistened under the classroom lights, its intricate design and meticulous detail showcasing Harry's exceptional skill and creativity.
Harry looked up, a modest smile on his face. "Thank you, Professor. It's just a little something I thought of," he replied, his voice calm yet filled with a quiet confidence.
McGonagall held the needle up, turning it this way and that, allowing the class to see its full splendor. "Fifteen points to Slytherin for exceptional craftsmanship and creativity in Transfiguration," she announced, her eyes still fixed on the needle.
The class erupted into murmurs of astonishment and envy, especially from Hermione Granger, who stared at the needle with a mixture of awe and a hint of jealousy. Her eyes darted between the needle and her own matchstick, which had only managed a crude transformation.
McGonagall turned back to Harry, her expression one of sincere appreciation. "Mr. Potter, may I keep this as an example for future classes? This is, without a doubt, one of the finest examples of beginner Transfiguration I have ever seen."
Harry nodded, a sense of pride swelling within him. "Of course, Professor. I'd be honored," he said, handing her the needle.
As McGonagall placed the needle carefully in a small box, she added, "You have a rare talent, Mr. Potter. I look forward to seeing how you develop it further in my class."
The rest of the class was a blur for Harry, with his classmates casting curious glances and whispers his way. Daphne and Tracey, sitting nearby, shared a look of admiration and slight disbelief at Harry's skill.
As the class dispersed, Nigel's voice resonated in Harry's mind. "Well done, Master Harry. You've managed to needle your way into the professor's good graces on the very first day. Can I boldly say you thread your path to her approval quite skillfully?"
Harry couldn't help but chuckle at Nigel's pun. "It seems so, Nigel. But let's keep our focus. We have much to learn and achieve. The further I go, harder it will become."
Following his successful display in Transfiguration class, Harry found himself flanked by Daphne and Tracey as they made their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts the next day. His remarkable skill had quickly made him a topic of conversation in Slytherin house, and Tracey was particularly keen on uncovering his secrets.
"Potter, how are you so good at it? I can't turn it at all," Tracey implored, her eyes wide with curiosity.
Harry, with a hint of patience in his voice, responded, "I've already told you, it's all about imagination. You have to envision the outcome in minute detail."
Tracey pouted in frustration. "I told you, it doesn't work for me."
Harry sighed, realizing she needed more guidance. "That's because you're not visualizing correctly." He glanced around, spotting an empty classroom. Quickly, he guided them inside and closed the door.
The girls blushed, misunderstanding his intention. "What are you doing?" they asked in unison.
Harry, oblivious to their reaction, produced two matchsticks from his sleeve. The girls, seeing the matchsticks, relaxed. "Oh," they said, realizing their imaginations had momentarily strayed.
"Where did you get those?" Daphne inquired, her curiosity piqued.
Harry smirked, his eyes twinkling. "Magic," he replied playfully.
With a swift motion, he transformed the matchsticks into needles. They were less ornate than the one he created for McGonagall but equally realistic. He handed them to the girls, who examined them with awe.
"Now, hold these," he instructed, passing them each a new matchstick. "Feel their coldness, hardness, their color, how they reflect the light."
The girls did as told, their fingers gingerly touching the matchsticks. Harry watched, offering guidance. "Imagine the weight of the needle in your hand, the sharpness of its point. Envision the silver sheen, the way it gleams under the light."
Daphne and Tracey closed their eyes, concentrating. Harry continued, "Picture every detail – the texture, the length, the thinness. It's not just about what you see, but what you feel."
He paused, then added the crucial part. "Most importantly, flick your nail against them and feel the sound it makes."
The girls, their astonishment evident, flicked their fingers against the needles. A metallic ting resonated, confirming the transformation's authenticity.
"You see, the key is in the details," Harry explained, his tone didactic. "You have to involve all your senses. Imagine not just what it looks like, but what it feels like, sounds like. That's the secret."
The girls nodded, their expressions focused. Harry encouraged them, "Now, try the spell again, but keep that image, those sensations, in your mind."
Daphne went first. Her wand moved with newfound confidence, guided by the vivid image in her mind. The matchstick trembled, then slowly transformed, taking on the sheen and shape of a needle. She gasped in delight, her eyes sparkling with triumph.
Tracey, inspired by Daphne's success, followed suit. Her transformation was slower, but the result was equally impressive. Her needle gleamed under the dim light of the classroom.
Harry smiled, pleased with their progress. "See? It's all about the details. The more vividly you imagine, the more precise your magic."
The girls looked at their needles, then at Harry, their expressions a mix of gratitude and newfound respect.
Daphne, her voice tinged with admiration, said, "That was brilliant, Potter. Thank you."
Tracey, still staring at her needle, added, "You really have a gift for this."
Harry shrugged modestly. "It's just practice and a bit of imagination."
As they prepared to leave the classroom, Nigel's voice echoed in Harry's mind, his tone infused with a suggestive tone. "Well, Master Harry, it seems you've just started a needle revolution in Slytherin. Next, they'll be wanting you to turn teacups into turtles."
Harry chuckled in his mind. "So long as they are dragons. Snakes, are fine too. I can probably dissuade them."
As they exited the classroom, Daphne and Tracey continued to discuss their newfound skills, their voices filled with excitement.
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