Pandora Malfoy and the Philosopher's Stone

Chapter Twenty: Classes

We made it to Herbology in good time, and the lesson itself would've been quite fun if I hadn't been worrying about why Father hadn't sent anything about my sorting. Hermione and I both knew the answers to all the questions Professor Sprout asked, and got twenty-five points for Gryffindor altogether. I could tell the others in our house were split between not wanting a Malfoy with them, and being happy about the points.

After that, we headed off to Transfiguration. There was technically a half hour break before the lesson started, but we spent most of that just trying to find the classroom.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said, as soon as we'd sat down. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. We were all really impressed, and although I knew that achieving that level of transfiguration would take years, I couldn't wait to get started.

After making lots of complicated notes, we were each given a match, and started trying to turn them into needles. I managed to do it first, followed by Hermione just a few moments later. By the end of the lesson, we were the only two to have made any difference to our matches; Professor McGonagall showed the rest of the class how they'd gone all silver and pointy, and gave Hermione and me a rare smile, as well as five house points each. Despite my worries, I felt a flicker of a smile appear on my own face.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of the lesson, he took the register. He hesitated slightly when he got to my name, and when he reached Harry Potter's name, he gave an excited squeak, and toppled out of sight.

The lesson was mostly theory work, though we did all get a chance to try and conjure the Light-Giving Charm, lumos. I did it immediately, having already learned to cast it at Malfoy Manor. I'd found that having a portable light you could turn on and off with just one whispered word each time meant that I was far less likely to be caught out of bed at night, and therefore far less likely to be punished for it. However, the light I produced had always been different to the one in my book — it glowed a soft gold colour, bathing everything nearby in what looked a lot like the light from a sunrise.

"Miss Malfoy, which spell did you just use?" Professor Flitwick asked, sounding like he was trying to conceal his shock.

"I used lumos, Professor," I said quietly. "I haven't been able to get it the right colour yet."

"It appears you've cast a unique variation of the spell," he said. "It's quite rare, but some witches and wizards carry a variation in their magic that means some or all of their spells look, feel, act, or are cast slightly differently to how they would be for people without this variation."

The rest of the class were looking at me, some amazed, some jealous, and some just annoyed. Of course, many of them began whispering to the people nearby, and I quickly mumbled, "Nox," to turn the light out again and try to avoid any more of their attention.

"Let me see, twenty points to Gryffindor for mastering the Light-Giving Charm so quickly, and another twenty for mastering the Light-Extinguishing Charm before we learned it," Flitwitck said, giving me an approving look. "Perhaps you can help some of your classmates with the charm?"

And so I did. Hermione got it soon enough, but the rest of the class took a lot longer to successfully cast it, if at all. I helped anyone who wanted help, which was actually just the people who'd grown up in the Muggle world and therefore didn't know about why me being in Gryffindor was a bad thing.

"She's so big-headed," I heard someone say to the person next to them, as we left the classroom.

"I know!" the other person said, not troubling to keep their voice down. "She's all, 'oh, look at how amazing I am with my special golden lumos spell! I'm better than everyone else here because I'm always the first one to learn a new spell and the professors love me!'"

Quite a few people laughed at this, but I just clenched my jaw, stood up straighter, and tried to ignore them. Father had said far worse things to me before, and I'd been able to deal with that, so I knew I should easily be able to deal with this too.

"They don't know what they're talking about," Hermione quietly said to me. "You're as far from big-headed as it's possible to be. And you can't help that they're all slower at learning things than you are!"

I gave her a slight smile.

"Thanks, Hermione," I said softly.

Lunchtime came and went, and still there was no sign of Father's anger. I didn't eat anything again, no matter how much Hermione nagged me to, too busy watching the place where the owls could enter, my anxiety growing with every minute that went by. I ended up leaving the Great Hall half an hour early — partially so I'd have enough time to find the History of Magic classroom for our last lesson, but mostly to try and get away from the looks and whispers that still seemed to follow me everywhere.

Although History of Magic was the only lesson taught by a ghost, it turned out to easily be the most boring one. Professor Binns had apparently been very old indeed when he'd fallen asleep in front of the staffroom fire and got up the next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. He droned on and on whilst we scribbled down the things he was saying — names, dates, places, facts, facts, and even more facts. It was amazing how he managed to make the fascinating events of the past sound too dull to comprehend.

By dinnertime, I was getting really worked up about the lack of a letter or anything from my Father. Something wasn't right, I just knew it.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, sounding really worried. "You haven't eaten anything again, and you look like you might run out of the room screaming at any second."

I sighed, then cautiously said, "I haven't heard from my parents yet, and I don't know why. I know I was sorted wrong, but they're not normally the sort of people who just pretend I don't exist if I do something they don't like..."

"Maybe they sent your letter with an owl that's a lot slower than the one they used for your brother's letter?" she suggested, but I shook my head.

"No, we only own 'the best' owls," I said, making sure it was clear that these weren't my own words. "And besides, it just couldn't be almost an entire day slower, it doesn't make sense."

"Ok, well maybe — maybe they want you to do this?"

I frowned in confusion.

"Do what?"

"Get all worked up about why you haven't heard from them," Hermione explained. "It's almost like you're punishing yourself, in a way — you've been stressed and on-edge all day, waiting to receive a letter, and the longer you have to wait, the more anxious you get about why you haven't had one."

Realisation slowly dawned upon me as she said this. Although it wasn't really his style, that must be what Father was doing. There was no other explanation for it.

"So... how long do you think I'll have to wait?" I asked.

"If you get a letter at all, I'd say you'll probably have to wait until tomorrow for it."

"Alright then," I said, taking a deep breath. "I guess I'll just wait for that."

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A/N: tysm for 3k reads!! 😊🖤

Word count: 1355