Abby left the Gryffindor common room early that evening feeling refreshed and ready for anything. She had brushed her impossibly long hair into two braids down her sides, getting it out of her eyes and covering her scar at the same time. When she'd taken a moment to look into the mirror she'd noticed it had darkened significantly, and the last thing she needed was more comments about it. She, Paul, and a few other House members she was just getting to know had lit a fire, so she felt warmed, content, and ready to go. She still had Elijah's scarf, but she draped it over her bedpost so she could come back to it after they'd eaten. Paul stood at the bottom of the steps of the girl's dormitory, leaning in against the frame with his arms folded firmly across his chest.
"Better not let my mum see you with that scarf," his voice warned her as she glanced over in the mirror. "She's head of Gryffindor house, and she'll positively freak if she sees you wearing Slytherin colors." She rolled her eyes, scooped up her books and things, and headed down the steps to meet him. Class didn't start for another ten minutes, but they wanted to leave early in case the stairs decided to change direction again. That was Paul's reasoning, in any case. Abby was eagerly looking forward to Transfiguration class. Something about that sort of magic appealed to her, though what it was exactly that intrigued her she couldn't say.
"Oh, what has everyone got against Slytherin, anyway?" she said impatiently, tossing her braids back over her shoulders. "I mean, I know they say there isn't a witch or wizard who was in Slytherin that didn't go bad, and I know Voldemort himself was supposedly in Slytherin, but they're not all bad. Elijah is actually very sweet. But no one will give him a chance because he's supposed to be a Dark wizard. Well, I won't put up with such nonsense. He's a good friend of mine not matter what house he's in."
By then the two of them had already passed through the portrait hole and were walking toward their class. Dumbledore was just passing by them when Abby made her remark.
"Words wisely spoken," he said, smiling at her. She realized suddenly that she and Paul were not alone in the corridor, and felt her cheeks flush with a brilliant scarlet hue. The Headmaster was now walking beside them, surely headed for some destination of his own but keeping their company for the moment. Abby, who had known the kind old wizard since she was born, was accustomed to his presence and not affected by it in the least. Paul, however, wasn't nearly as used to it, and shuffled uncertainly in the great wizard's wake.
"Professor Dumbledore, sir, do you think…do you think it's possible the Sorting Hat might make a mistake and place someone in the wrong house?" she asked imploringly, looking up at him as one might looked up to their wizened old grandfather. She had a certain necessity in her eyes, like she needed to know the answer right away, like it was absolutely vital to her wellbeing that she know. He took a deep breath before answering, letting her know that he was considering the question with an utmost gravity.
"Miss Potter, it seems not too long ago your father was in the room asking me the very same question. Let me first explain to you exactly how the Hat works. It was bewitched by the four founders of Hogwarts to examine each student's individual qualities and, based on the virtues each founder looked for in their pupils, place them in the appropriate house. Godric Gryffindor treasured courage, faith, and loyalty. That is why your mascot is the lion. Helga Hufflepuff wanted students who made strong bonds with their companions and considered friendship most important above all things. Salazaar Slytherin preferred students with pure wizarding backgrounds who were clever, cunning, knew their goals and weren't afraid to use any means necessary to achieve them. And Rowena Ravenclaw chose those who were quite witty and intelligent. Brains above brawn, as the saying goes. All four valued strength, but each valued it in a different way. Many times students have virtues that overlap each other. You, just as your father before you and his father before him, have strength that any one of the founders would have desired. That is why the Hat found it so difficult to place you. You also have one other special quality that would be considered great in any witch or wizard, regardless of their House – the ability to accept change. People can change, my young Abigail, and they very often do. What the Hat sees fit to base its decision on may change, and so few people are willing to accept it that when a student is Sorted, they are to remain in that House throughout all seven years. So no, the Sorting Hat cannot make a mistake; it is we who make the mistakes," Dumbledore explained. He added a wink to close, walked with her a few more steps, and turned off toward a separate corridor. Paul looked to see where he had gone, but Abby was again quite used to this. It was simply part of Dumbledore's nature to offer kind-hearted advice and then mysteriously vanish. She never gave it so much as a second thought.
The two friends walked together into the Transfiguration classroom a few minutes before the start of class and took their seats. Many of the students were already there, but not all of them, which told them class hadn't started yet. Abby opened her book and started looking over its contents. She was excited about the class, yes; but Professor Granger was an old friend of her father's. *obviously, lol* She didn't want her first impression of her as a student to be a bad one. Anxious not to miss a thing, she opened her book of parchment, opened her inkbottle, and sat her sharpened quill inside the bottle.
Professor Granger came into the room just moments after Abby and Paul. She had clipped her curly brown hair to about the middle of the back of her head that less than emphasized her age. She wore sleek, slender glasses at the bridge of her nose, her eyesight having deteriorated over the years. That and the confident way she strode up to her desk in the front made her look stern and yet very intelligent. She stood in front of the class with her hands folded in front of her, patiently waiting for the rest of the class to come in so she could begin. A few more Ravenclaws filed in, and about three or four more of them and a whole crowd of Gryffindors filtered inside before the bell rang *they do have bells, don't they? ~feels stupid~* indicating the start of class. Professor Granger sat casually on the edge of the desk, leaning against it more or less, while she waited a little while longer for any latecomers. When she cleared her throat, Abby immediately snapped to attention.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Now I know it's late and you're all eager to get to dinner, but you've got to treat this like any other class or Professor Dumbledore will have my head. But don't worry; we'll start simple today. Just a few questions and a quick pop quiz to see if you've done your summer homework. Oh relax, the quiz will be painless, I promise. It won't count for anything. I just want to see if anyone knows how to do it. You'll see what I mean when we get to it.
"My name, if you don't already know, is Professor Granger. I went to school with many of your parents – yes, I see you back there Miss Longbottom – but don't think I'm going to give any of you special treatment," she said, adjusting the glasses on her nose for a stricter appearance. "At this moment you are all equals to me, and you will continue to be equals until you prove (or disprove) your skill and talent to me. Your grades will be based on how well you do in here and nothing else. As some of you know I am Head of Gryffindor House; however, I do not favor Gryffindors any more than I do Slytherins, Hufflepuffs, or Ravenclaws. If you show yourself to be a head above the rest, I will award your house points, regardless of the house. If you are late, take a tone I do not appreciate, or show lack of respect for yourself, me, or any of your classmates, I will deduct points from your house.
"As I said before, welcome to the area of magic known as Transfiguration. I will show you how to transfigure one object into another. Later in the year we will move on to turning objects into living creatures. If you decide to continue your education here at Hogwarts, you will learn to change animals – starting with insects and moving on to reptiles, birds, and finally mammals – into objects, and animals into other animals. Your last year here will be devoted entirely to human transfiguration. This can be most exciting, and also most dangerous. That is why it is essential that you learn and understand the basics of transfiguration this year. Now, before we start, are there any questions?"
Professor Granger, though only teaching for a few short years, had a certain command over her students that demanded respect. The entire class was quiet, and no one dared to ask any questions. Abby couldn't think of a single thing to ask that hadn't already been answered. The teacher's eyes scanned her class for raised hands; then, seeing that there weren't any, proceeded to her start-of-class quiz. Abby's ears pricked up.
"All right then, let's begin. Who can tell me the correct spell for transfiguring a pebble into a toothpick? I should be able to pick out any one of you and hear the correct answer…let's see…Mr. Murray?" Abby's hand had shot up into the air in her eagerness *sound familiar? Lol* , but lowered just as quickly when someone else was chosen. She was desperately itching to prove to her classmates that she was good at something, but also perfectly willing to let someone else answer. However, after a round of questions for every one of which she raised her hand, she hadn't been called on to answer a single one. This she found very disheartening. I know this, she thought. So why won't you give me a chance?
"Very good, I can see most of you have been studying. That will serve you well in my class. Now, the first thing we will be learning in here is transfiguring objects to objects. We'll begin with studying the spells, then move on to the hand motions, the right places to tap your wands for certain effects, and so on. *wow, when you think about it, magic can be kind of complicated* If you do well in Charms, more than likely you will do well in here. Let's take this ink well, for example. Would anyone like to try to come and turn it, oh, I don't know…let's try blue. I won't mark you down if you get it wrong; you're not supposed to know how to do it exactly. But would anyone like to come up and try?"
The ink well? Make it blue? Abby hesitated, her arm already halfway up. She had an idea about it that, with any luck, might work, but she wasn't terribly sure about it. She really didn't want to get it wrong in front of Professor Granger, of all teachers. No points would be deducted, fine, but Professor Granger was an old friend of her family. If she did it wrong, no doubt her parents would hear about it, and then where would she be? Plus, everyone was already gawking at her. What if she couldn't do the spell? She could hear the murmurs already.
"What, Harry Potter's daughter can't do a simple spell? What a disappointment to her family!"
Unfortunately, she hadn't pulled her hand back soon enough. "All right, Miss Potter, come give it a go." Abby shrank back in her seat, clutching her wand so tightly it nearly snapped in two. Her heart had fallen right through to the pit of her stomach, and her eyes widened. Paul gave her a friendly nudge similar to the one Elijah had given her at the Sorting. She swallowed hard, slid out of her seat, and very slowly approached the front desk. It felt like a mile between her and the front of the room. Professor Granger had set an inkwell on the center of the desk where the whole class could see it. Abby almost wished she could be sick, right then and there. Then Madam Pomfrey could whisk her away to the hospital wing and she wouldn't have to go through with this.
She finally reached the desk, standing behind it so that the inkwell was right in front of her. Everyone was now staring at her, 16 pairs of eyes boring into her skull. Professor Granger nodded encouragingly at her. She closed her eyes and lifted a shaky hand to the bottle.
"Cambio azzu," she murmured softly, tapping her wand against its inner lip. She felt the familiar warmth through her wand that she always felt when she did a spell. Whatever she had done, it had been done, and she cracked her eyelids to see if she'd done it correctly. Sure enough, the bottle – as well as its contents – had turned a brilliant shade of blue. She smiled with relief, now aware of the applause she was receiving. Even Professor Granger was clapping for her.
"Very well done, Abby," she whispered softly as Abby headed back to her seat. "Your father will be pleased."
*yes, Andry, I know McGonagall says that to Harry once…you're supposed to notice that…I'm going for parallelism between my story and the books; you'll see more things like that later on*