Harry glanced back and forth between his notes and the matchstick on his desk. It was the very first Transfiguration class, and Professor McGonagall had made it very clear both how dangerous the magic could be and how little tolerance she would have for anyone messing around. He definitely didn't want to get in trouble, but he was having difficulty getting the magic to do what he wanted it to. He could feel his magic inside, feel how it tried to flow into and through the wand, feel the shaping of what he wanted the spell to do...

But no matter how he tried, he couldn't quite manage to visualize the matchstick transforming into a needle properly. Despite what had been said about how the magic worked, he couldn't quite wrap his head around the idea of something physical being that malleable, that an effort of will and a wave of a wand could so drastically transform it. Despite all he tried to do to focus on the concept, that fundamental aspect continued to escape him.

Sighing, he closed his eyes, holding his wand in both hands. If that was the stumbling block, maybe that should be where he started. Shifting his thoughts, he focused on the concept of malleability, visualizing the matchstick as though it were made of play-doh. He imagined himself pinching the head to a tip and smoothing the bulb down over the entire length before pinching the other end to a tip. Well, that was easy enough to visualize, he supposed he could just visualize doing that with his magic instead of his fingers, but what about the material? Even his visualized matchstick in the shape of a needle was still made of play-doh consistency wood, rather than silver like the needle he was trying to turn it into. Still, he was beginning to get the concept of reshaping physical matter. He just needed to figure out how to-

A burst of flame broke his concentration as Seamus Finnigan's match on the next desk over burst into flame, nearly catching his desk on fire. Harry gasped for breath at the sight, only for some of the sulfur from the match head to go up his nose. Bringing one hand to his face, he let out a loud sneeze as he felt his magic jerk with his entire body...only for his wand to go flying out of his hand, sparking from both ends as it twirled through the air.

Shrieks and cries echoed through the classroom as Harry's wand began to ricochet about, sending many other wands bouncing out of students hands to fly with it as magic began building in the air.

"What in the world...?" Professor McGonagall demanded in shock, hesitating just long enough that every student wand became caught up in the odd starburst of magic that they were shaping over the students, many of those who were Muggleborn now ducking under their desks for safety. Pulling her wand out, she leveled it at the explosion of magic. "Finite Incantato!" she cried out fiercely.

A burst of magic leapt from McGonagall's wand, impacted the waves of magic ricocheting between the flying wands...and flew back at her in coruscating colors to slam her back against her desk, causing several students to gasp as McGonagall's wand flew out of her hand to join the display.

McGonagall, for her part, wasn't having any of it. Even as feline features began to appear on her as she stood up - cat ears atop her head, fur pattern on her skin, a tail sprouting out the back of her robes - she rolled up her sleeves. "Rrrrright..." she growled out as she flexed her hands. "None of that now!" She thrust both her hands towards the bursting magical light. "Finite Myaxima!" she roared out.

The entire classroom seemed to explode with light.

As Harry felt himself returning to consciousness, all he could see was a blur. Feeling his face, he was quick to discover that he was lacking his glasses. He began to paw around for them, only to find his wand instead. Pity he didn't know a spell to summon his glasses to him, that would be really useful right then. He paused to rub his head again, focusing on his scar. It felt...weird. Almost empty in a way, but in a relieving way. He wondered what that could possibly mean?

"Is everyone alright?" McGonagall called out, her voice still having a bit of a feline lilt to it although it was fading rapidly. Many other students called out expressing either being dazed, confused, or more or less okay. No one sounded injured. "Mr. Potter, are you alright?"

"Hoy..." Harry called out, lifting his hand with his wand and waving it a bit to show he was okay.

"Well!" McGonagall stated as it sounded like she was straightening her robes. "While I don't normally plan for such a thing, I suppose we can consider this a demonstration on just why one must be careful with magic. I genuinely have no idea why it behaved that way, but it seems nothing harmful came of it, which is a relief. If everyone would retake their seats, we'll double check that everyone is alright, and then I would like everyone to write their impressions on what happened, as well as two inches on what might be done in such a situation to ensure safety. Mr. Potter? Please take your seat."

"Hoy-yoyo!" Harry called out, trying to explain he couldn't find his glasses...only to pause as that's what he heard come out. "Hoy?" He reached up to feel his throat to see if something was wrong...and couldn't find it. "Hoy! Hoyo!"

"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall snapped out, though her voice sounded tense. "Please come to the front of the class."

Wincing, Harry stumbled out from under his desk, only to become worried as he heard several shocked gasps near him. He took a step forward...and promptly tripped on his robes. "HOYYYYYYYYOOOOOO!" he screamed out as he fell forward...only to roll all the way to the front of the class, slamming into McGonagall's desk with an oddly soft impact. "...hoy?" he asked in confusion, wondering where the expected pain was.

There was silence for a time as he turned, trying to find Professor McGonagall. He heard her mumbling an incantation under her breath and felt her put her wand to the back of his head, followed by an odd tingle that faded rather rapidly. This repeated several times with no more effect than that. He then heard her mumble, "Accio," and heard something fly through the air. He was then turned around as his glasses were slipped on...and he saw her looking at him in shock and concern. "Hoy?" he asked in confusion, now really worried about what was wrong with his voice.

McGonagall turned him around to face her desk again, and transfigured the side he was facing into a mirror...and he saw himself. He was at most two feet tall, round, and pink. What little he could see of himself outside his now much too large robes was a shock of messy brown hair, his bright green eyes - now much larger than before - and the scar under his hair between his eyes, now much fainter than before. In fact, it looked less like a scar and more like someone had drawn it on his forehead...

Lifting up his hands, he saw tiny pink nubs, one somehow holding his wand. "HOYYYYOOOOOOOO?!" he screamed out in shock and terror, even more when he saw how big his mouth was when he spoke.

"Try and stay calm, Mr. Potter," McGonagall offered uncertainly. "I will contact the Headmaster to meet us at Madame Pomfrey's, and we'll sort this out in no time."