Change of Heart

Lessons Learned

The initial three days of classes had proven quite eventful. Among all the subjects, Astronomy and Defence Against the Dark Arts had notably stood out as my favorites. The intricacies of operating the telescope and delving into the mysteries of celestial bodies fascinated me during Astronomy. Meanwhile, Defence Against the Dark Arts exceeded my high expectations, making it a truly engaging experience.

The lesson was filled with such vibrant energy, learning all the creatures that roam the wizarding world and the various spells and enchantments used. But Quirrell would often veer off topic, falling down a rabbit hole of his different adventures as he travelled the world. He once saved Romina from a vicious vampire terrorising the many rural villages.

Despite such an amazing storyteller, Quirrell had a very anxious demeanour with his constant stuttering as he taught or the lines of his letters slightly out of line as his hand began to shake. He was incredibly skinny, as if all that was under his robe was his skeleton and was tall, easily touching the top of the black-board. He appeared to be holding two heads under his plum-coloured turban. He had long, pointed nails and his finger bony and lengthy, resembling Elara's talons.

Despite his frail build, he had a very strong face. His nose was pointed like a beak, and his jawline sharp. His eyes were, at points in the lesson when he didn't think anyone noticed, held a very cold, calculating gleam before turning soft as a student raised a hand to ask a question. He was strange, but an amazing teacher nonetheless.

However, today was my first Transfigurations class with Professor McGonagall. I was excited as McGonagall was renounced for her ability in Transfiguration, and I wanted to see if she lived up to that incredible reputation. She was the only teacher, other than Professor Snape, my mother held a shred of respect for. I strolled up the stairs, reading the first couple of pages of my Transfigurations textbook before, out of no-where, I felt a hard shove against my shoulder, sending me to the floor with all my books. "Hey! Watch it, idiot," I yelled, looking up towards the assailant who had assaulted me. At the top of the staircase stood an all too familiar bush of hair; of course, it had to be her. "Why were you hogging the middle of the staircase then?" asked Granger.

I scoffed, uninterested in wasting my breath on the Muggle-born as I swiftly gathered my scattered belongings from the steps. "We've got a good ten minutes before class starts. No need to rush like you're being chased," I remarked, sounding annoyed, and gave her a deliberate nudge with my shoulder before heading towards McGonagall's class. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of her blushing cheeks as she struggled to come up with a response. I could almost hear the faint "tut" of frustration as she followed me, clearly flustered.

I found a seat in the middle of the class, taking out all my things as other students began to file in. McGonagall soon appeared with the last student shutting the door behind them to trap the warmth in the room. "Right class, I hope you're ready to begin," she began, removing a long piece of parchment paper from behind her. After finishing the register, she cleared her throat. "So, before we begin, what do you believe I am going to explain to you all?"

Without fail, Granger's hand shot up into the air as fast as a shooting star. "Yes, Miss Granger?" she nodded to the girl.

"About the course aims?" she asked, the anticipation of her praise pushing her to the end of her seat.

"Almost, Miss Granger," McGonagall smiled.

I watched in amusement as Granger deflated like a popped balloon. "Transfigurations is a highly delicate subject, especially when transfiguring one's self into other animate objects or animals. They can have devastating consequences if done incorrectly." A grave look appeared upon her face for a moment, and I could only imagine the disastrous monstrosities produced by inadequately trained Transfigures.

"Due to its complexity, I'm expected you will be doing everything to the best of your ability. I hope you're all prepared for a tedious year ahead?" She stopped right in front of my desk. "You will need to be putting in your all, or you will be banned from this class and forced to retake the year." McGonagall towered over me, glaring down at me as I shrunk into my seat before turning to other students within the class. "Who's ready to learn?"

She was spot on; the subject was undeniably complex. Our initiation into Transfiguration commenced with a flawless display by Professor McGonagall, who effortlessly transformed her oak desk into a full-grown pig, complete with brown patches, and then back into a desk. The fluidity of her wand movement left us all spellbound, but our collective disappointment mounted when we realized we wouldn't be morphing our desks into animals.

Instead, Professor McGonagall strolled amidst the rows of desks and placed a single matchstick on each one, instructing us to transfigure it into a needle. Predictably, Granger was the first to achieve the feat, executing a perfect wand flick to transform her matchstick into a needle. A proud grin stretched across her face as Professor McGonagall generously awarded her twenty house points. I followed suit, earning a commendable ten points.

Leaning back in my seat, I observed the struggles of my fellow classmates. Some managed to produce a needle with a metal tip, while others had utterly decimated their matchsticks. A sense of triumph swelled within me as I gazed down at my own needle.

The rest of the day had gone as smoothly as my Transfiguration class, and I used my free afternoon to explore the castle grounds. I came across a small ground huddled in the corner of the courtyard, and I strolled toward them as I recognised familiar shiny blonde hair. "So, Malfoy, I've seen you've recuperated from that fatal blow from Potter," I smiled, sitting between Crabbe and my sister. My uniform stood out in the green, shining brighter than the others under the sun. Everyone giggled at my comment, other than Ludovic, who found no humour in my joke and continued to stare down at the newspaper he held in his hands.

"None of your business, Olympia. Ludo, sort out your perturbed sister," he spoked through gritted teeth, clenching his fist tightly on his knee as he nudged my brother.

"Olympia, it seems like you've gotten comfortable. I hope your finding your way through Hogwarts, simple," Ludovic smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes or soften his strong features as he glared down at my uniform. His grip around his newspaper tightened, crinkling the pages as his eyes reach the crest on my robe.

"Well, I've been exploring," I answered, letting my voice trail under his accusation.

"Exploring so much you still haven't sent that letter to Mother?" he questioned. The atmosphere of the group grew tense as I found all the eyes of my companions on me, all glaring at my uniform with judgemental stares. My once confident demeanour had begun to deflate, leaving me scared and unable to look at anyone in the eyes as I fiddled with my fingers.

"I don't see how Mother can do anything about the situation. The hat has decided," I answered, trying to regain some control of the situation Ludovic had placed upon me.

"Well, we wouldn't know until we've tried, would we? But, you won't have to worry, I've done the hard work for you. I sent the letter yesterday afternoon," he continued, looking back down to his newspaper as he saw my eyes widen in fear. I felt all my blood drain from my face, running down to my feet as my heart began to race a mile a minute. "You did what?" I mumbled, unsure if it was even audible.

"It's for the best, Oly. You know that," he continued, placing a tight grip on my shoulder.

"Yes, I understand," I replied calmly, shrugging of his hand as I stood up. I felt the ground shift underneath me, almost tumbling over, but I stood tall in order to not embarrass myself even more. "I have some homework, I need to finish in the library. I hope to see you all soon." I hurried toward the castle, not waiting for any goodbyes.

I hastened to the dorm as soon as the painting swung forward, revealing the warm common room. Fortunately, it was vacant, so I hurried to my poster bed and lay down to gather myself. Right now, I could see my mother's face. She was likely incensed that Ludovic was had to alert her of my unexpected admission to the opposing house. Given that I was the first Warwick to receive the red and goldcrest in generations, it undoubtedly drove her to the brink of insanity. If she involved our father—who didn't often get involved in our personal or educational affairs—it would be considerably more serious. Father was a ghostly presence in the home. Although he was either in the study or elsewhere, we knew he was there. I realised there wasn't much I could do to influence what my father would do after looking at my watch, so I started to close my eyes for a peaceful nap before evening classes.