Chapter 6 - Unexpected

Hermione was eating breakfast at the Ravenclaw table with her new House-mates. When the food had appeared, the Ravenclaw table had been the only one with a full complement of first-years in attendance...apparently some of the other Houses' new students were having some difficulty in finding their way to the Great Hall. Hufflepuff was only missing one - who'd apparently wandered off - the rest having been led there by older students. The young Ravenclaws had been left to work it out on their own, but had all managed. Late first-year Gryffindors and Slytherins were still gradually trickling in, being welcomed to their tables with ribbing and derision, respectively.

As Hermione had discovered after they'd gained entrance to the Ravenclaw welcome party the night before, the large common room held a great many bookcases, comprising a private library of sorts. Many of the books were rare and some were not even found in Hogwarts' main library itself. One particularly helpful volume - Engineering Enigmas: An Evaluation of Entry and Egress in an Educational Edifice of Easy Excursion from Edinburgh - had contained a careful accounting of many of the castle's more changeable features, and various tips for navigating confidently. It took a bit of puzzling out, though, as it had been written very obliquely - apparently for some reason the author hadn't wanted to use any names or phrases that would explicitly identify Hogwarts.

The Ravenclaw 'party' itself had consisted chiefly of students oohing and aahing at the books, occasionally waving people over to share an interesting passage, and in general a lot more quiet reading than most people would expect to find at a celebration of any kind. Even the older students were involved, as the Tower Library (as it was called) was apparently updated and expanded with quite a few new books each year, over the summer holiday. Hermione had been pleasantly surprised, and had headed up to her bed only slightly later than her habitual bedtime, leaving plenty of other Ravenclaws still absorbed in the books.

She had risen early, not just because it was the prudent thing to do on her first day of classes - which it was - but also so that she might have extra time to visit the kitchens on her way to breakfast. She had not forgotten the disturbing things she'd heard the previous night, and had used what she'd read in Engineering Enigmas to gain access to the only place she was certain she'd find some house-elves, where she might get some first-hand information. After that meeting, she wasn't at all sure what to think. She'd been appalled, of course, that they were dressed only in tea-towels, and they'd confirmed that they were not paid in any way. But every one of them had stridently, indeed vehemently insisted that they were deliriously happy to be working at Hogwarts where there was so much to do and they were very rarely beaten, and had seemed quite scandalized by many of Hermione's questions. In the end, she'd decided to put the matter off until she could talk to Professor Flitwick about it. While he was in the Great Hall for breakfast, it seemed impolite to interrupt his meal for what might be a long conversation, and since she had Charms first thing, waiting until after class didn't seem like too much of a compromise in the face of injustice.

Plus, she had to eat something if she wanted to concentrate well in her morning classes, and the eggs were delicious…

"So...this is the new competition?" The voice had come from behind her right shoulder, then after the pause, switched to her left. Hermione turned, and saw two identical grinning boys with bright red hair standing behind her, their arms folded over their chests. She recognized them as Gryffindors from the sorting, the first ones who'd stuck their tongues out for Hannah. Probably third or fourth years, by their height. Their grins didn't seem malicious, but she wasn't sure they seemed entirely friendly either. "We just wanted to compliment you on your turnabout with Scabbers," said one. "Not that it took us all that long to figure it out - Ron's rubbish at most things, including looking innocent," continued the other. From this, and the hair, it wasn't hard for her to guess that they were Ron's older brothers.

"It wasn't meant to impress you," Hermione said, primly. "I just thought you might think better of tormenting your brother if you had a taste of it yourselves."

"A taste? We've older brothers as well, you know...we've had a banquet," said one of the Twins with a scoff. "And does this mean you weren't challenging us to a prank war?" asked the other, teasingly. The nearby Ravenclaws glanced at each other, listening, and Hermione looked horrified.

"A 'prank war'? Of course not...that sounds rather juvenile, and likely a horrible distraction from our studies," she said, unconsciously doing a passable McGonagall impression, albeit without her accent. The Twins looked at each other, then shrugged back at Hermione.

"Huh. I suppose we'll have to try to call off all the things we've already set up now," mused one. "Of course, we don't want to be distracted from our studies, so we might not have time to get to all of them between classes…" said the other, his seemingly contrite tone spoiled by a broad grin. Hermione's eyes widened in alarm. "And you know, since you turned him yellow for noble reasons, that just makes Ron's fit about it even funnier."

"What?" Hermione asked, confused. Ron had seemed happy about it at the time…

"Oh, you didn't hear? Well, that new Slytherin goon that Scabbers bit apparently made a fuss about catching something from him - with the yellow, he does look even more sickly than usual. So the rat - Scabbers, that is-" they grinned at the unnecessary clarification, "is in a cage down in the hospital wing until Madam Pomfrey can make sure he's not actually as diseased as he looks. Even if he checks out, first-years aren't really supposed to have a rat. Dad had wrangled an exception for Scabbers ages ago, but since he's gone after someone, they might actually revoke it. Ron's pretending not to care, but he's taking it a bit hard. Anyway, good luck..." The two strolled jauntily out of the Great Hall.

Hermione sighed. She really ought to have restrained herself on the train...this was what came of stooping to someone else's level. She'd have to apologize to Ron during Charms, though his brothers had a point about first-years only being allowed owls, cats or toads...exceptions to rules made Hermione instinctively purse her lips in disapproval. She began to wonder why she hadn't noticed that at the time.

"You're dragon bait," commented Marcus Belby, a nearby second-year. "It's not as if those two need an excuse for mayhem, but if you've gone and challenged them to a Prank War…"

"I have not," insisted Hermione. "Weren't you listening?"

"Well, maybe you hadn't intended to…" he shrugged.

"What did you do, anyway?" asked Terry. Hermione explained, as briefly as possible. The first-years stared at her and a few of the older students glanced in her direction as well.

"You were already casting spells on the train?"

o-o-o

Ravenclaw shared Charms class with Gryffindor, and Professor Flitwick made a fuss over Harry Potter during roll call. This embarrassed Hermione slightly on the Professor's behalf - he'd been at the Sorting, so it's not as if he could really be surprised now. She supposed that, taken in context, it wasn't all that unreasonable to have an emotional reaction to having the Boy Who Lived in your class, but still.

The tiny Professor gave an overview of all the things they'd be learning to do this term, and demonstrated by making someone's quill leap out of their hand and fly around the room, which everyone found quite impressive. As well as a bit disappointing, since he then had them start practising the simple Wand-Lighting Charm instead. Only it apparently wasn't simple, since only a couple Ravenclaws managed it on the first try - not counting Hermione, of course, for whom it wasn't actually the first try anyway.

Flitwick was very much as she'd found him on his visit to her house. Affable, enthusiastic, talented and clever. It made perfect sense that he was Head of House for Ravenclaw, though when Hermione overheard other students mentioning that he was a past duelling champion, she found it hard to credit, despite her respect for the Professor. It was just hard to picture, though to be fair, she had not yet learned much about duelling. Maybe his size would actually be an advantage, since he was a smaller target and all?

As everyone continued struggling to light and unlight their wands, Hermione quietly gave advice to nearby people she saw having particular trouble. She discovered Tonks was correct - the Professor did in fact give her points for helping, though not everyone she aided seemed grateful to be told what they were doing wrong, which baffled her. Weren't they here to learn? And wouldn't they rather hear it quietly from her than be embarrassed if the Professor pointed it out in front of everyone? Nevertheless, she persisted, and gradually made her way closer to Ron and Harry. The former had in fact been casting frequent sullen glances in her direction throughout the class.

"I'm sorry about your rat," Hermione said, awkwardly. Ron shrugged.

"Probably is diseased, and all he does is sleep anyway, useless lump...good riddance," he replied, a bit unconvincingly. And uncharitably...the rat had leapt - literally - to Ron's defence, or at least to the defence of his sweets.

"Still, I never meant for anything like this to happen...I should've been more responsible," Hermione said, sounding genuinely regretful. Ron looked at her oddly.

"Naw, it was brilliant, really. And he was the one that bit Goyle, not you...just one of those things," he said.

"Still, I feel like I'm partially to blame," Hermione insisted. "If they do end up not letting you keep him, I'll get you a replacement pet...one from the actual list." Ron had no response to this other than to look embarrassed.

"How's Ravenclaw?" asked Harry, trying to break the awkward silence.

"Oh, goodness, it's lovely so far," Hermione said, and described the books in the common room. Possibly in more detail than was warranted, but they were quite an interesting collection, and she hadn't even gone over the titles of all of them yet.

"I noticed your Sorting took a while," she said casually to Harry, after she'd finished. It wasn't prying if she didn't ask outright, right?

"Yeah, it wasn't sure what to do with me...said Slytherin could 'make me great' or some such," he replied with a shrug. A few nearby Gryffindors looked surprised.

"Go on, really?" asked Ron, gaping at him.

"Yeah. I gave it some thought, since Hermione'd said the Houses weren't entirely like how they sounded, but there was no way I was going to share a dorm for seven years with Malfoy, so at the end I just insisted," he said with a shrug. Ron nodded his emphatic agreement with this sentiment.

"Well, just because you didn't go that way doesn't mean you can't be great...just think about what you might've learned from being Slytherin, and try to develop that on your own," Hermione suggested. Ron made a scoffing noise.

"Pfeh...all they'd've taught you is how to be a slimy git, not very great if you ask me…", he said, but Harry nodded thoughtfully.

After class was dismissed, Hermione had lingered to ask Professor Flitwitck about the house-elves. He'd first confirmed that there wasn't anything it was outright illegal to simply discuss - aside from matters covered by Secrecy Statute, with respect to muggles - but there were quite a few things that might be considered inappropriate for first-years. But he'd answered her actual question readily enough, basically echoing what the house-elves themselves had said. It was uniformly their greatest desire to provide good service and unflagging loyalty - the magical contracts which bound them to the house they served were entirely voluntary, and enforced via their own magic. He didn't know how these arrangements had come to be common - he dimly recalled reading that once, millennia ago, house-elves had been independent and wandered, though even then they had often performed the same sorts of services they did now.

Hermione wasn't happy about this, but given it was voluntary, there wasn't much to do about it, as long as they weren't being tricked into it somehow. The best she could think of right now would be to try to make sure the local house-elves were informed that they had options, and obviously to do some research on how they'd come to the current arrangements. She duly added it to the list of things she wanted to look into.

o-o-o

Herbology was pleasant enough, and Hermione thought it'd be an interesting class, since there were plenty of hands-on experiences they'd be provided beyond what was in the book. All they really did the first class, though, was to do roll call and then take a tour of the greenhouses and school grounds, with professor Sprout pointing out every interesting plant within sight. The Professor was not quite as ebullient as Flitwick, though she had a determined cheerfulness that befitted her other position as Head of Hufflepuff, and her enthusiasm for Herbology seemed easily equal to that of his for Charms.

After that was lunch. The Weasley Twins grinned at Hermione when she came in, but there'd been no sign of any pranking yet. She had decided to ignore them, of course. If there was a prank, she'd just have to deal with it as it happened, but it had occurred to her that they might be pulling a meta-prank - trying to make her paranoid when there actually were no threats - so her best defence there as well was to simply act normally.

The class groupings changed in the afternoon, and Hermione's next two classes were with Slytherin. First came Defence Against the Dark Arts. Though it became immediately clear that the class was poorly named, or ought to have been two different classes - there seemed to be a distinct division between defending oneself from dangerous creatures and defending oneself from actual Dark Arts, as the former did not generally use the latter. Hermione wondered if they'd just been lumped together under the common ground of 'bad things', or if it had been done to pad out the curriculum in the earlier years - based on her own reading, a child had little realistic chance of defending themselves against an adult wizard in general, let alone one inclined to use the Dark Arts, whereas driving off minor pests wasn't all that hard even for a beginner, and sometimes didn't even require magic. Regardless of her doubts, she paid proper attention...a class was a class, after all.

At the same time, she also paid some attention to the Slytherin first-years sharing the class with the Ravenclaws, hoping to see some evidence for her theories about them not necessarily being all that bad. She got a chance when at one point in the class, Professor Quirrell had asked if anyone knew anything about Hags. Hermione had waited, but after only one person had raised their hand (to mention they ate babies), she raised her own, and when called upon gave a brief (she'd thought) but thorough overview of the topic, then sat down.

"Got one in the family, have you?" asked Malfoy. There was scattered laughter - all of the Slytherins joined in, and even a couple of Ravenclaws, though those got disapproving looks from their fellows. Hermione felt warmth in her cheeks, though she forced herself to meet people's eyes, the Slytherins' particularly. Some of the laughter, she decided, was just at the inappropriateness of the question, but a little more than half of the Slytherins did seem to be taking malicious pleasure in the implied insult. It was much the same as she'd endured for years in her muggle school, and it felt just as bad.

Though curiously, her embarrassment was receding a little more quickly than it used to, and the laughter hadn't lasted as long. Maybe it was her open question about the Slytherins...having something to analyse instead of just feeling embarrassed, was letting her brush it off more easily? Or the fact that she was in a House meant that she now had implied friends, and wasn't quite as vulnerable a target? In any case, she took special note of which Slytherins had (Malfoy and his 'goons', plus Millicent, Pansy and Sophia) and hadn't (Theodore, Blaise, Tracey and Daphne) seemed to delight in the cruelty itself, to see if that pattern held later.

Professor Quirrell didn't intervene at all. He appeared not at all sure of himself, though his rather untraditional (even among wizards) choice in headwear seemed to speak to at least some kind of self-confidence. But he had a stammer, and jumped at loud noises. Nearby students whispered that they'd heard he used to teach Muggle Studies, but he'd gone abroad somewhere to get hands-on experience for this new position, and only barely escaped with his life - the classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which he'd apologized for and explained was 'a regrettable necessity'. Despite his timidity, class discipline didn't break down entirely, since everything was so new to the first-years, and they were genuinely interested in the discussion.

o-o-o

Transfiguration would be the last class of the day for first-years, and before she'd even taken roll call, Professor McGonagall firmly set the tone for her classes.

"Transfiguration is the most dangerous form of magic you will be taught about at Hogwarts, with only the possible exception of Dark Arts. Can anyone tell me why?" She looked quite serious, in a way that few teachers who Hermione had encountered previously had managed. "Miss Davis?" she said, acknowledging the Slytherin girl who had raised a hand.

"Well, Charms can do things to you, and Dark Arts can hurt you or kill you in lots of ways, but Transfiguration can really mess you up," she said, and she sounded like the idea was more interesting than concerning.

"That is part of the answer, yes...many mishaps in Transfiguration can be fatal in extremely unpleasant ways, or indeed so unpleasant in general that death would be preferable." The class absorbed this sombrely, trying to (or not to, depending on their constitution) imagine Transfigurations that would make someone wish they were dead. "Any ideas as to the other part?" Hermione thought she saw where the Professor was going with this, and raised her hand. "Miss Granger?"

"Well, most Transfigurations aren't permanent. They're tricky to undo since you have to know exactly what was done and do it in reverse, but if you just wait, eventually they'll revert. However, um-" she hesitated for a moment, trying to think how to describe the concept, "interactive changes persist. That is to say, if you turn a rock into a stick, and break the stick, when the Transfiguration wears off, you'll have a broken rock. Or if you transfigure water to acid, and spill it on your hand, the acid would later turn back to water, but your hand would still be burned, and I suppose maybe some of the water would be changed because of how the acid reacted with your hand, though that'd depend on-"

"That is sufficient, Miss Granger," interrupted Professor McGonagall, nodding, "but you are mostly correct. The effects of most Charms and even Potions can generally - so long as they are not fatal - be reversed by cancelling the magic involved directly, or as you noted, simply waiting...though depending on the strength and skill of the caster, you may have a considerable wait. However, a flawed transfiguration - particularly of living subjects - can become effectively permanent, if too much time passes. Additionally, again as Miss Granger noted, changes other than the Transfiguration itself do persist indefinitely, so care must be taken when Transfiguring anything into fragile or otherwise volatile forms."

"However, even more importantly, and with greater relevance to first years - since it will be some time until any of you could manage even a flawed Human Transfiguration - even a simple mistake in basic Transfiguration can result in a form or substance which has unknown qualities, the secondary effects of which are permanent, unless they can be repaired in other ways!" A sea of confused looks greeted this declaration, though many of the Ravenclaws seemed to be trying to puzzle it out.

"An example," the Professor continued, accustomed to this reaction. "A fellow student during my own time attending Hogwarts attempted to - outside of class - Transfigure a pair of rocks into earrings for herself, that glowed with blue light. Some of you might be concerned about what happened to her earlobes when the Transfiguration wore off-" several female students winced, "but Untransfiguration is accommodating. That is to say, a Transfiguration itself, when properly reverted, will generally not cause harm or changes to other things as a result. So in that sense, her attempt seemed both innocent and successful. It was not." The Professor paused for effect. "The next day, most of her hair had fallen out. The day after that, she fell deathly ill. It was clear she'd been cursed or poisoned somehow, but even after it was known to be the result of proximity to a flawed Transfiguration, no remedy attempted could halt the progress of her condition. A boy she'd...spent some time with grew similarly ill. She died after lingering quite painfully for another two days, though the boy eventually recovered. To this day, we still do not understand precisely what happened." She let this sink in, then leaned forward, and her voice gained intensity.

"I have been instructing Transfiguration for over three decades. No student has ever died during one of my classes, or as a result of misuse of Transfiguration outside of classes. But there have-been-close-calls." The class was silent, and entirely cowed. "Accordingly, you will pay complete attention in my class at all times to what you are doing. You will follow any instructions I give in my class immediately. If at any time your behaviour in or out of class causes me to feel that you are not giving Transfiguration the proper respect and are thereby endangering yourself and your classmates, that will mark the end of your Transfiguration classes at Hogwarts. Additionally, in that event, a Permanent Injunction Charm against even attempting to use the true Transfiguration Spell would be cast upon you by a Ministry official and not lifted until such time as you or your parents presented good evidence at a Ministry hearing that you had matured sufficiently to try again, and you had found a Ministry-approved private tutor - as you would be unlikely to rejoin my classes in any case. You would of course be expelled from Hogwarts in the interim, since until your sixth year, Transfiguration is a required core subject. I trust I have made myself clear?" There were a couple of yesses, but mostly frightened nodding.

"Now that the introductions are covered, I will call roll - when I call your name, please respond by restating your own name, followed by, 'I understand and agree to the conditions as stated'." She tapped the board at the front of the class and that phrase suddenly appeared in large yellow letters, then picked up a scroll from her desk and began reading names.

Needless to say, her instructions were followed. Hermione, who had read every word of every EULA for every program she'd installed on the Amiga or the IBM-compatible at home (and in fact cancelled the installation of a handful as a result), and who had developed a vaguely sceptical view of the quality of the Muggle Studies curriculum at Hogwarts based on her background reading, hastily reassessed the latter opinion.

"Now that's over with," she said with a sudden smile, once everyone's name had been called, "and lest you expect your next five years in Transfiguration - or more, if you apply yourselves - to be spent in mortal terror…" She tapped her wand on her desk, and with an eye-watering twist it became a large pig, which stood there docilely, only shifting slightly. The students leaned forward eagerly, and a few made quiet exclamations. "At the risk of immodesty, true Transfiguration is the pinnacle of the magical arts. No other discipline requires the same combination of knowledge, concentration and precision, nor allows for as much creativity in practice and immediate flexibility in application." The Professor paused a moment, then tapped the pig and her desk returned.

She chose to capitalize on the enthusiasm this demonstration had generated by launching immediately into a lecture on the basics of Transfiguration, insisting that everyone take careful notes. Though Hermione had already read all of this, she took notes just as carefully, due - aside from her natural inclinations - both to Professor McGonagall's warnings of the dangers as well as Hannah's insight that their books might not be current, or even complete. Some of the notes were on the differences between Transfiguration Charms, which were very numerous and quite specialized, and the true Transfiguration Spell, which was easy to cast - the incantation was "Mutato", and there was no required wand motion - and which could theoretically do anything involving Transformation, but which was very difficult to get to do exactly what you wanted. Most of the notes were specifics on how to approach the latter.

The Professor finally passed out matchsticks to everyone, and explained that their first project was changing them into needles with true Transfiguration. Many students immediately began their attempts, with predictable utter failure. Hermione followed her notes and the reading, which said the first step was to identify and keep a firm mental image of as many points of comparison as possible between the target and the destination, and only then cast the spell, aiming to eliminate all the divergences. After a couple of minutes, she had the obvious list, as did most of the Ravenclaws, who began their own attempts. But it seemed clear from the reading that, since they were so inexperienced with the proper concentration and had little 'magical strength' to speak of, their success today would depend much more on their mental pictures. So Hermione continued on, making estimates from memory of the chemical structure and composition of wood versus steel, and even of carbon, hydrogen and oxygen versus iron, filling several parchments with relevant calculations and diagrams.

She got so involved in this that, by the time the class was nearly over and Professor McGonagall was coming around to collect matchsticks - which were largely unchanged except for those of a couple of Ravenclaws who'd managed to make them slightly more pointy - Hermione hadn't started a single attempt. She hadn't even taken her wand out.

"Miss Granger, practice and practical application is essential to your understanding of Transfiguration. I am aware that my introductory speech can be intimidating to some students - as it is meant to be - but please at least attempt the assignment in future classes?" The Professor sounded a bit disappointed, and to hear disappointment in a teacher's voice struck at Hermione's heart like a poisoned dagger.

"Oh, goodness, no! I just wanted to write down as many points of comparison as possible before I started. I thought that would make it quicker in the long run, since the eventual Transfiguration would be easier..." she explained, anxiously.

"I might have commended you for that preparation, if you'd actually done it, but I cannot help but note that your parchment is blank," McGonagall noted, her lips pursed. Hermione looked down at the parchment, which had been covered in calculations of atomic weights only a moment ago. It was blank. She flipped back to the other parchments she'd used for comparison and her initial Transfiguration notes, and they, too, were blank. She didn't understand. Had she mistaken a regular quill for the Self-Inking one she'd bought? But no, she'd seen the writing on the pages, obviously. In her concentration, had she imagined writing all those notes? That seemed very unlikely, and besides, she took parchment from her bag one scroll at a time only as needed, thus there wouldn't be several out now if she'd never really written at all.

A sudden noise distracted her from her panic, and she looked to her right to see that Terry Boot had knocked over his bag. When he bent down to right it, he looked up at Hermione and mouthed silently, dragon bait. She stared at him for a moment, then looked at her quill, frowning darkly.

"I think my self-inking quill...or maybe the parchment...may have been jinxed," Hermione said, in a tone sufficiently grim for one discussing a horrific murder. Professor McGonagall looked unimpressed.

"Traditionally students wait until after their first homework is due to trot out that old gem," she said dryly. "I suspect this establishes a new record." Hermione gaped at her in horror, and several students - all Slytherins - snickered, earning them a stern glance from McGonagall. She didn't believe her! Not only had she lost all her notes and not even tried to Transfigure anything, the Professor thought she was just making excuses. Her mind began to cast frantically around for some argument that would convince the Professor - the Twins were in her House, surely she'd know of their proclivities - but Hermione feared everything she could say would only sound like another excuse. Suddenly she realized there was only one way she might prove she'd actually been paying attention and doing the work, despite all evidence to the contrary.

Hermione pulled her wand from her bag, and before the Professor could say anything, touched it to her matchstick, focused desperately on all of the comparisons she'd done, and said, "Mutato!" Within seconds, the matchstick had become thinner, silver, and pointed.

"Stop!" said the Professor, her eyes widening in mild alarm. Hermione wanted to keep going, it just needed to have the eye added, surely only a couple more seconds would-

...follow any instructions I give in my class immediately...

Hermione's mental justifications cut off sharply as she remembered the Professor's rules. Her fingers sprang open as if her wand had become red-hot, and it clattered onto her desk, the not-quite-a-needle remaining incomplete. For a moment, the room was quiet, students cautiously standing and or craning their necks to see what Hermione had done to produce such a reaction, Hermione looking up at Professor McGonagall with worry that she'd made a mistake somehow, and the Professor looking back at her with an unreadable expression. McGonagall shook her head gently and cleared her throat.

"My apologies, Miss Granger," she said, sincerely. "See me after class and I shall examine your supplies for tampering." She gave Hermione a soft smile, then collected her quasi-needle and the rest of the students' matchsticks.

After the class was dismissed, a handful of students immediately surrounded Hermione, asking how she'd managed her Transfiguration. After several patient assurances that she'd explain later, she managed to extricate herself and approach the Professor's desk.

"Let me see your parchment first, Miss Granger," McGonagall asked. "Most commercially-enchanted items - Self-Inking Quills included - are strongly charmed against tampering." Hermione handed the curls of parchment to McGonagall, who began waving her wand over them. On a sudden suspicion, Hermione also searched in her bag for the notes she'd taken in her earlier classes, and found they were blank as well. She closed her eyes, trying to hold back the tears of frustration she felt coming.

Laughing at her, calling her names, messing with her clothes, slipping nasty notes into her bag - she'd regularly endured all of them before coming to Hogwarts. And they'd made her feel small and weak, partly in the natural way, but also because she knew they were intended to do that, and that if she'd only been...better, somehow, they wouldn't have been able to. But interfering with her studies? That was a new low, it was just...just… Hermione couldn't think of a word - at least, not in the subset of appropriate words she allowed herself to think - that was sufficiently bad to describe it.

"There are lingering traces, but nothing amiss here," McGonagall said. "I'll have to examine the quill after all." Hermione took her parchment back and handed the quill over, wordlessly. "There was something else I wanted to discuss," she continued, as she began examining the quill. "Could you explain the mental images you used when Transfiguring the matchstick?" She sounded casual, and it appeared most of her attention was on the quill, but there was a note in her voice that suggested more than idle curiosity.

Hermione pushed her feelings down for the moment and explained everything she'd thought of. She did not define the scientific concepts involved, assuming that McGonagall had to be familiar with such things already, teaching Transfiguration as she did. But during the entire part where Hermione was describing alloys and lignin and atomic mass ratios, she could not miss the Professor's slight frown. McGonagall put the quill down and looked up at Hermione, folding her hands on her desk.

"Did you practice Transfiguration at all before today?" she asked, calmly. Hermione shook her head.

"No, I obviously couldn't do anything at home because of the law, and I only practised some basic Charms on the train - the book was quite clear about how dangerous Transfiguration can be, though it wasn't quite as forceful as your speech…" The Professor nodded, as if she'd expected this answer.

"No child with no practice whatsoever - indeed no first-year in general, in point of fact - should have been able to perform that Transfiguration so quickly. I must assume, then, that your advantage lies in the muggle 'sciences', of which I understand very little." She paused for a moment, choosing her words, and Hermione shifted uncomfortably. She wasn't used to teachers who admitted ignorance of any kind, and while the words had seemingly been complimentary, they hadn't sounded like praise.

"I am hesitant to forbid you a talent based on obvious study...you presumably earned what...knowledge...the muggles have given you. However, I must warn you - the student in the example I gave, Moira Leigh-Smith? She seemed to have a natural talent for Transfiguration, and was highly praised by...the Professor at the time," she said, a bit awkwardly.

"He had a soft spot for muggles, you see, and she was a muggle-born as well - I believe her mother was a 'doctor', as your parents are?" Hermione nodded, and didn't bother to correct the minor detail, too curious to know where the Professor was going with this. "I'd simply ask that before you attempt any Transfiguration involving muggle science, you consult with me first. Not that I am suggesting you are irresponsible...just that...I would be remiss if I did not consider the parallel."

Hermione nodded, slowly. She might have resented the unique restriction, except that she'd just had an inkling of what might have happened to Moira and her boyfriend, in light of which McGonagall's caution seemed entirely justified. She really ought to have thought of it immediately, maybe she even had on some level but had discarded it, because it was brilliant and yet very stupid - though that depended partially on how long ago it had happened, exactly - and all for what...glowing earrings? Not that watch dials were a particularly more worthy goal...

"I will, of course. Although if you don't understand muggle science, I'm not sure how...er...consulting with you will help? If it's any consolation, I think I might understand that student's mistake…" The Professor frowned, and Hermione began to worry that McGonagall might've taken her question as an insult. But after a moment, she nodded.

"I pride myself on my knowledge of Transfiguration, and if muggle science can have such significant effects on it, it behoves me to correct that obvious deficiency. My impressions of you suggest that you will have such notions frequently, and it would be safer if they were not discussed in front of the class. Accordingly, we can arrange special tutoring sessions in the evenings or on weekends when you can discuss your ideas with me...while at the same time, you can do your best to teach me muggle science." Hermione nodded along until the Professor reached the last part.

"I...um. I did bring some of my books from home, which will help...but that might take...quite a while," Hermione hedged.

"We do have seven years...I suppose we shall just have to be patient with each other. The Hat did offer me Ravenclaw, if it's any consolation," she added, wryly, echoing Hermione's own words.

"Now that's settled, back to the matter of your notes. I believe this quill-" she nodded at the quill on her desk, "is not one you had originally purchased. It is a Self-Inking Quill, but the ink it produces is Disillusioning Ink, a change that could likely be produced only during the original charming of the item." Hermione's heart fell. She'd been so distracted by the other conversation, she'd actually forgotten about her notes for a couple minutes. "Presumably it was switched for your original quill at some point - do you have any idea who might've done so?"

She had a very good idea, but she hesitated to immediately name the Weasley Twins. For one, informing on students in her old school had for some reason never resulted in a punishment to the offender as unpleasant as the offence itself, and had frequently led to even greater taunts later. Things might be different here, but there was also the other matter - she had no proof it was them. Hermione reminded herself to add 'forensic spells' to her list of things to look into.

"In any case, as wholly inappropriate as it was, I do not think it was meant maliciously," continued McGonagall after Hermione had remained silent for a moment. "Disillusionment is easily reversed - which I will do for you now - but this particular ink could likely only have remained hidden for a day at the most, and would have reverted naturally of its own accord." Hermione felt a ridiculous surge of relief that she hadn't lost all her notes. Of course, she'd written them, so she remembered nearly every word anyway, but it would've taken a long time to re-copy them, which could now be spent more productively. For a moment, she felt a strange sort of gratitude, until she remembered whoever'd done this had deliberately made her feel awful in the first place, and got a bit conflicted.

"Thank you, Professor." she said, opting to focus her gratitude on Professor McGonagall, who genuinely deserved it. "For fixing the Disillusionment, but also for...apologizing," Hermione added. The Professor smiled ruefully.

"You are welcome. But if I did not set an example for my students of both honesty and graciousness, I would be hard-pressed to consider myself an educator of any worth." Hermione beamed at her, and noted to herself that there were apparently a few things that made Hogwarts special that had nothing at all to do with magic.

o-o-o

Transfiguration had been Hermione's last class for the day. This meant she was free until dinner, so she took the opportunity to finally visit the library. If she was honest with herself, it was actually a bit…disappointing. After the rest of Hogwarts, she'd expected it to be amazing, wonderful, and awe-inspiring. Instead, it was cramped, disorganized and downright inhospitable.

To be fair, based on her rough estimates (and Hogwarts, a History), it did have tens of thousands of books - obviously mostly about magic, which had to count for something. But Hermione had frequently visited the London Library, which held over a million books, and while she had not yet qualified for a Reader Pass at the British Library, she knew that it stored 150 times as many items in turn. She supposed that the magical population was so low that they simply didn't publish all that many books each year.

But Hermione reminded herself that the value of a library was not in its size, but in what it could teach you. There was no point in complaining about it until she ran out of things to learn, which she suspected would take quite a while. Particularly given the labyrinthine collection of bookshelves, scattered throughout an assortment of randomly-sized rooms on the third floor, with no hint of even an old-style card catalogue. She hoped that the librarian could help her, though she'd heard vague reports from other Ravenclaws that she was rather...intense.

"Excuse me, Madam Pince?", she asked quietly, once she found the thin woman's desk. "I was wondering if you-" The librarian shushed her noisily. The noise was actually louder than Hermione's question had been, but she dutifully lowered her voice to a barely-audible whisper. She made it a rule to humour librarians, though she'd never actually met one who fit the stereotypes quite so well before today. "Sorry. I was wondering if you could help me research a few-"

"I don't have time to help students with homework, nor should you expect such help," she interrupted, sternly.

"Oh, well it's not actually for classes, it's just a few-"

"I certainly do not have time to help with personal projects." Interrupting seemed to be the woman's natural mode of conversation.

"Oh. Well, I'm muggle-born...what is it that librarians-"

"Librarians are guardians of the library, and the books within, of course. I ensure that these rooms maintain a suitable atmosphere for serious study and research, that no harm comes to the volumes, and that they are only borrowed - and returned - by responsible students."

"So if a student needed to find a particular-"

"She would consult a professor, or other students, and not take up the librarian's valuable time." Hermione gave up at this point, and took Madam Pince's 'advice', seeking out an older Ravenclaw.

"You got a lot further with her than most people do," said a third-year, Roger Davies, after Hermione had - quietly - explained her difficulties to him. "She must like you." Hermione took a moment to digest this.

"So, how do you find particular books around here?" she asked.

"Well, the bookshelves are grouped into Sections of course, but beyond that it's a matter of practice, memory, and diligence. Madam Pince does go to considerable lengths to ensure the books are always replaced in the exact location they came from, so at least you can rely on that. Though if there's some pattern to it, she's never told anyone, and no one's ever figured one out." Hermione sighed. She went over her list with Roger, and he was at least able to point her towards the right Sections for most of them.

She'd started with house-elves, as though it was perhaps of the least practical value, it was ethically the most important question she'd come up with so far, ahead of both what was being done to children sorted into Slytherin and her concerns about the pre-Hogwarts education of magical families. But in the back of her mind, she couldn't help continuing to think about other things that demanded understanding.

As the hour for dinner approached, she found herself frequently distracted by other students' talking in the library, and was starting to commiserate with Madam Pince's increasingly strident attempts to quash such disruptions. Finally, the librarian was apparently pushed past her limits, and closed the library entirely, herding everyone out with exhortations not to come back until they could maintain proper decorum. Hermione, vexed, approached one of the knots of students left gossiping outside the doors to the library.

"You know, some people actually wanted to use the library for studying," she began, crossly.

"How can you think about studying now?" asked a second-year girl she didn't know.

"Why...what's going on?"

"It's Madam Pomfrey," said the girl, breathlessly. "She's dead!"

o-o-o-o-o

A/N: Whew! Once again, sorry it took so long to get this update up, but I had a lot of background to work out, including a canon-respecting but actually sensible class schedule and nailing down (for this fic, anyway) some open questions about how magic works. Plus, some lazing about. But mostly the schedule, which I am unreasonably proud of.

However, procrastination pays off in some ways, as just as I was about to post this, I noticed a PM from LovingPillow, who figured out the door riddle! Congratulations! As it happens, the way I ended up writing the next chapter, I couldn't work the answer smoothly into the story, so it'll be left unsaid for future readers to puzzle over. I'll continue shout-outs to other readers who PM me the correct answer, but please don't pester previous winners for hints!

On the upside, things are starting to heat up plot-wise (in addition, of course, to the canon plot that's still going on). Hopefully none of my readers are too fond of Madam Pomfrey. I occasionally write some hidden scenes that won't necessarily ever be published, just to keep things straight in my head, and what happened to Poppy hit me with some feels. I also hope it isn't too obvious what happened there (it's hard for me to tell, since obviously, I know already), but rest assured, even if you're a smarty-pants and have figured that out, there will be more twists to come.

2016-06-02: Thanks to /u/benthor for the brit-pick on lockers not being a thing in the UK!