Luck of Nines

25

It wasn't really a victory, he decided, schedule in hand, as he was leaving the dining hall. He might have cowed Malfoy, but that did nothing for thwarting Malfoy's power, because that stemmed from who his father was in the outside world. The outside world in which all of the Slytherin wished to join in a handful of years, a wish which the Malfoys, should they feel petty enough, could make considerably more difficult.

Which meant he needed to stretch his influence into the outside world, even further than it already was.  It was a distasteful thought, but necessary. Simply because within these close quarters with no way to push himself to the top of the pecking order immediately, he needed a pack behind him, even if it was a pack he had no intention of trusting.

      Together, the first years entered the Transfiguration classroom, Harry taking the seat somewhat in the middle that Malfoy seemed to be angling for, and Nott claiming the seat to his right. Bulstrode, a vicious looking grin on her face took the seat to his left.  Greengrass took the seat in front of her with a roll of her eyes. Boyd sat next to Greengrass, and Carrow sat by her.

Davis hesitated only slightly, before sitting in the very front row, in front of Carrow, she understood her position, as someone wealthy but not from a family of as high esteem as the others, she was the underdog in Slytherin. The Slytherin girls sat together, they were a tight knit power base even after Hogwarts that she needed to be a part of to meet her ambitions, whatever they were, meaning she needed to sit with them. And if Parkinson chose Malfoy over the other girls, Davis would lose her as a friend if she did not, so she had to sit first. Parkinson hesitated before sitting uncertainly next to Davis.  She already had to have known that Crabbe and Goyle would be sitting on either side of Malfoy, and she would not want to be sitting alone.

Malfoy seemed surprised, clearly having become used to informally deciding the seating arrangements with where he sat from the time before Hogwarts, but then he moved to take the last open seat. He would not get it though.

"Hey Daphne," Phineas skidded into the seat remaining seat and leaning back somewhat. "Mind asking Calliope if she still has some spare ink to lend me?"

       Because Phineas and Bulstrode both disliked Malfoy the strongest, if he could get one to act among the first to get in the way of Malfoy, the other would be among the final ones to make sure the blow landed. With Nott also seemingly siding with him for now and Greengrass not having firmly taken any decisive stand yet he was set for now.

      Not willing to be left standing there for much longer, Malfoy and his goons left to sit in the second to last row, behind Harry, Nott, and Bulstrode. It was a potentially dangerous position, but 'Harry' had someone watching his back. His senses easily enhanced themselves so he could tell where and what the trio behind him were doing, and Chipped Fang settled down on his lap to keep an additional eye out, the oversized clothes easily making the pouch that Chipped Fang liked to stay in unnoticeable.

     "Do you think that the Professor will be arriving soon?"  Bulstrode complained sometime after a human-cat slipped its way through the shadows and up onto the desk that sat in front of the room. It's feline form did nothing to hide the smell of human- not just contact smell either- and magic that coated it's fur. The slightly awkward movements of one not fully suited to their body gave the human away as merely being in the disguise of a cat rather than being a cat that could sometimes be human. 

"Who knows," Greengrass sighed inspecting one carefully rounded nail, "I heard Professor Mcgonagall is the Deputy and Head of House Gryffindor so she's too overwhelmed to properly teach the class. Maybe she got hung up dealing with something."

The thought made him wonder what exactly he came across as, or did no one else notice these things?  Chipped Fang had never referred to him as a cat nor a human, nor even a canine, he was simply Savior Chipper at first- the 'savior' part was the best it translated to actual speech rather than an outpouring of wordless respect, awe, and thanks- although years by his side left him as just Chipper and Fang as Chipped Fang as they grew to be closer. He might not have started out with any family, but he had found some of his own.

He sighed watching as the Ravenclaws sitting on the other side of the classroom began to get restless. The cat transformed from the desk into a person, landing roughly on the ground, but at least standing upright.

"Do not leave just yet if you want credit," she said with a small, smug smile, "Hello. I am Professor Mcgonagall, and I will be your teacher for transfiguration for the next few years. As Miss Greengrass kindly pointed out,"

Greengrass flushed bright red, at the Professor's pointed look.

"I have many roles here at Hogwarts, so I ask that you please be patient with me and my busy schedule. If you have questions about your grade or particular situation, I invite you to ask the directly following class. What you have just witnessed is an advanced transfiguration at work called the animagus transformation. Something which I offer lessons in for some of my best N.E.W.T. students, should learning such a skill interest you than I suggest you listen and begin paying close attention now, as you cannot perform any transfiguration successfully without a strong base to start with."

Harry felt a surge of skepticism and disappointment at that and just about tuned out the subsequent talk which was meant to hype the students up for learning. Animagus transformations were the height of transfiguration? He'd been a cat 'animagus' since shortly after he could walk and he was supposed to be impressed that the Professor could become a cat on command, since she was thirty four? What a let down. At this point he just wanted to learn what he could about 'wards' and if magic was capable of healing and then leave.

Chipped Fang could speak, but only because of magic, he'd made a deal with some back-alley hag in Knockturn for a charm that helped the cat, but it did nothing for the pain the old wounds sometimes caused.

He carefully picked up his wand as he was handed his matchstick and mentally fixed his mind on the image of a matchstick, the feel of it, the odd chemical smell, the taste of burning wood lingering in the air after a campfire as it slowly shifted to metal, red hot to the touch but cooling, a small hole burning out where the eye of the needle should be, the sharpness it, just as he would when transforming from one shape to another.

Feeling his attention drawing on his magic already he lifted his wand, beech with a Phoenix feather core. The man selling it had been odd, large and owl like, but something else too, something more mythical that he did not know, Ollivander was an 'animagus', if that was the term for it, of two forms. They had stared each other down for a long moment when 'Harry' had entered before the young man had hobbled off to collect a few wands.

"I hadn't expected to see James and Lily Potter's son in my shop so soon, although I suppose it has been eleven years since you're birth, hasn't it? How time flies with age. It never did a wizard any good to reject their own name though, it changes things, a name is connected to a great many things about you." He'd said in a weathered voice.

"I have a name, it was given by my caretaker."

"Ah, I see, but then why can't you have more than one? Who you were is as much a part of you as who you are, even if it might be difficult to accept that just now. You wouldn't be here if you didn't at least see it.  Things might just change once you accept it, maybe I'll be seeing you back here again."

Dragging his attention back to the matchstick he refocused, the words sliding out of his mouth awkwardly but still like they had all practiced as he flicked his wand directing his magic towards the needle, or rather what was to become a needle. He nearly leapt back at the fire that sparked up on his desk, Chipped Fang stirred hissing worriedly into his lap, Mcgonagall's head immediately shot up to turn towards him and began a quick approach, but the flames had already died down, leaving a sleek needle behind.

She blinked in surprise as she crossed the last few steps over, "Well done Mr. Potter, you seem to have gotten the basic look down although I believe we could have done without the dramatics," she inspected it for a moment, "You're father was quite skilled in transfiguration too, so I have high hopes for you. But,"

Here she paused and gently taped the needle against the desk, with his sharp hearing he quickly picked up the difference, "You seem to have managed only the outside of the transfiguration, it may look like a needle on the outside, but inside it is still the match stick." Demonstratively she applied a bit of pressure and snapped it in two to show the inside, but then she smiled and handed him a new matchstick, vanishing the remains of the old one.

"Try again, and ten points to Slytherin for the first successful visual transfiguration of the class; well done."