NOTES: This is more or less an "Avengers at Hogwarts" AU...only they're not exactly at Hogwarts.
SUMMARY: In his first year at the Roswell School of Magic, Clint discovered he was really good at Transfiguration. He had the matchstick into the needle by the end of the first lesson.
Unfortunately, it kind of went downhill from there.
The Pursuit of Phenomenally Unlikely Payoffs
I. Transfiguration
In his first year at the Roswell School of Magic, Clint discovered he was really good at Transfiguration.
He had the matchstick into the needle by the end of the first lesson.
Unfortunately, it kind of went downhill from there.
Buttons to beetles? Nope. Teacups to mice? Not likely. Snakes to watermelons? Uh, no.
In fact, Clint was only good at one type of Transfiguration. And he had that down pat by the end of the first month at Roswell.
Five years later – in his sophomore year at the Salem Institute of Witchcraft and Wizardry - he's gotten better at Transfiguration generally - he can do beetles, mice, and watermelons with some effort - but what came naturally - his 'default' as Jane Foster once called it consolingly - was more or less the same.
"You know," Tony says loudly as he peers over Natasha's shoulder, "I'm pretty sure that essays aren't supposed to look like that."
Nearly every boy in their year has thought about hexing Tony Stark since they arrived at the Institute, and more than a few outside their year have contemplated it, too. The Slytherin boy is good looking, clever, cunning, and charming, to say nothing of wealthy. He's also trouble, mayhem, mischief, and snark, all wrapped up in one personable parcel, and still has girls throwing themselves at him.
He's said to be fairly good at catching them, too.
The thing about Tony is that where he is, drama follows. Naturally everyone in the room comes over to look, including Professor Book.
"Impressive transfiguration skills, Mr. Barton. I don't suppose you can turn it back?"
And that's the other problem with his one party trick. "Uh, no, sir."
Clint wants to sink through the floor as Natasha Romanoff picks up the arrow - rowan wood like her wand, thick-fletched with goose feathers, and with a weirdly pointed tip. One brow too dark and fine for the scarlet riot of her hair quirks at Clint. "This is what they teach you here?"
She has only the barest trace of her native Russian accent, and there are all kinds of rumours as to how she came to study at Salem this year. But her hair is utterly distinctive, her poise absolute, and although it's only a month into term, she's already had enough guys ask her out to make up a Quidditch team - including reserves.
"Well, apparently that's mostly Barton," Tony says, leaning well into Natasha's personal space although his gaze is on Barton. "I heard you're really good at long and pointy - bet that makes you a hit with the girls."
Clint has never thought about hexing Stark before.
With his cheeks burning as Professor Book calls the class to order in his quiet, authoritative way and neatly transfigures Natasha's essay back, Clint's thinking about it now.
tbc
