Quirks in Wizarding World

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- Hogwarts castle -

- September 2, 1991 -

The rest of the day passed in a steady rhythm. After Potions, Arthav spent some time in the library before heading to the Great Hall for dinner. Unlike lunch, he sat with his Ravenclaw housemates, engaging in conversations about their classes. Padma was eager to discuss the practical applications of different spells, while Terry and Anthony debated over the theories behind potion ingredients. The Great Hall buzzed with the usual energy of students sharing stories of their day, laughter echoing across the vast chamber.

By the time he returned to the Ravenclaw common room, the sky outside was dark, the moon casting a silver glow over the castle grounds. He skimmed through his textbooks, preparing for the next day's lessons, before finally turning in for the night.

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- September 3, 1991 -

The next morning, after breakfast, it was time for History of Magic, a joint class with Slytherin. The classroom had a dull, musty air to it, as if the walls themselves were bored. Professor Binns, the only ghost among the faculty, drifted into the room without so much as a greeting before launching into his usual monotonous lecture. His voice droned on, listing dates and events with no change in tone or enthusiasm.

Most students quickly lost interest. Some, like Draco Malfoy and his friends, whispered among themselves. Others, like Michael Corner, had already given up, head resting on his arms as he dozed lightly. Even Padma, who usually took diligent notes, looked slightly disheartened by the sheer dullness of the class.

Arthav, however, had already read through the syllabus. Instead of trying to follow Binns' unchanging rhythm, he engaged in quiet discussions with Padma, Terry, and Anthony. They debated the nuances of magical history, questioning the way certain historical events had been recorded. Terry brought up discrepancies in the Goblin Rebellions, while Padma questioned the lack of representation of non-European magical societies. Anthony, ever the skeptic, argued about how much of wizarding history had been conveniently rewritten. Their whispered exchanges made the class bearable, even if the professor remained lost in his own world, oblivious to his sleeping or distracted students.

Once History of Magic finally ended, everyone shuffled out of the classroom with an air of relief. The next lesson was Transfiguration with Hufflepuff, a class that promised to be much more engaging.

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As Arthav and his friends made their way inside the Transfiguration classroom, he noticed several Hufflepuff students already present. Moving towards his seat, his gaze landed on a cat sitting near the professor's place, its sharp eyes observing the students filling in. He immediately recognized it for what it was—Professor McGonagall in her Animagus form. The magic clinging to the feline was strikingly similar to what he had sensed on Scabbers during the Hogwarts Express journey.

Instead of sitting immediately with his friends, he walked toward the cat, bowing slightly in respect. "It would be an honor to learn from you, Professor. My mother used to tell me stories about her time at Hogwarts under your 'guidance."

The cat blinked before, in the blink of an eye, transforming back into Professor McGonagall. She regarded him with a curious smile. "Your mother, Emily, was one of my favorite students when she was here. I expect great things from you as well, Mr. Nair—perhaps even greater."

Gasps filled the room as the other first-years looked on in shock, astonished by the sudden transformation. Professor McGonagall had a habit of welcoming new students with her Animagus form, enjoying the look of awe and ambition it inspired. Though Animagus transformations were now restricted by the Ministry, she still used it as a tool to motivate her students to excel in Transfiguration.

She had done the same with the Gryffindors the previous day, catching Harry and Ron off guard when they had arrived late. But this was the first time a student had immediately recognized her form, making Arthav stand out in her eyes. She hoped he would prove to be a diligent student, even if he wasn't from Gryffindor.

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As the initial awe settled and everyone took their seats, Professor McGonagall stood at the front of the classroom. Without a word, she raised her wand and performed a spell, transforming a chair into a pig and then back again with a swift flick. Gasps filled the room as the students watched in amazement.

"Transfiguration is a complex and precise branch of magic," she said, her gaze sweeping across the classroom. "It requires concentration, willpower, and a deep understanding of magical theory. Today, you will attempt a simple transformation—changing a matchstick into a needle."

She gestured toward the small matchsticks placed before each student. "This may seem straightforward, but even the most brilliant students struggle with it at first. Focus, visualize the change, and channel your magic correctly. Now, begin."

The classroom filled with murmured incantations and the occasional frustrated sighs as students struggled to produce even the slightest transformation. As expected, no one succeeded on their first try, not even Hermione the previous day.

However, a sudden gleam caught the professor's attention. Arthav had effortlessly performed the spell on his first attempt, turning his matchstick into a finely detailed needle. His friends, Padma, Terry, and Anthony, stared in shock before whispering excitedly. The commotion soon drew Professor McGonagall's gaze.

"Mr. Nair," she called, walking over to his table. "Would you kindly perform the spell again?"

Arthav nodded and repeated the transformation just as flawlessly, even adding intricate details to the needle's surface. The professor's eyebrows lifted in surprise, and for a moment, she simply observed the needle in his hand.

"Remarkable," she finally said. "It has been many years since I have seen such natural talent in Transfiguration at this level. Ten points to Ravenclaw!" Though not from her own house, she did not hesitate to acknowledge his skill.

Her praise sent a ripple of murmurs through the classroom. Arthav's accomplishment had set a new benchmark among his peers, and Professor McGonagall silently noted that Hogwarts had gained another exceptionally gifted student.

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As the Transfiguration class ended, the students packed up their things, still murmuring about the lesson. Arthav noticed Padma, Terry, and Anthony throwing him curious glances, clearly still processing his flawless execution of the spell. He simply shrugged and told them about some of his perspective of the transfiguration spellwork. Professor McGonagall soon dismissed them with a nod, her sharp eyes lingering on Arthav for a moment before turning away.

The group made their way to the Great Hall for lunch, where the usual buzz of students filled the air. Plates piled with food appeared on the tables as they sat down, eager to dig in after an eventful morning.

As Arthav took his seat at the Ravenclaw table, he noticed Harry looking unusually troubled at the Gryffindor table. He, Ron, and Hermione were huddled together, whispering urgently. Deciding to check on them, Arthav stood up and walked over.

"Harry, you look like you've seen a ghost. Well, another one," he said lightly, trying to break the tension.

Harry sighed, holding up a crumpled piece of old newspaper. "I found this in one of Fred and George's old things. It's about the break-in at Gringotts. The vault that was robbed… it was 713."

Arthav knew exactly what that meant. Vault 713 was where Hagrid had taken Harry during their visit to Diagon Alley. It was the starting point of everything that would unfold soon enough. He quickly schooled his expression into one of mild curiosity.

"Hmm," Arthav mused, as if considering it carefully. "Could just be a coincidence, Harry. I mean, Gringotts is supposed to be impossible to break into, right? Maybe someone just got a little too ambitious."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, and got away with nothing? That's not suspicious at all."

Hermione frowned, deep in thought. "Still, it's odd, isn't it? Why would someone try to rob an empty vault?"

Arthav placed a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. "Whatever it was, I'm sure the professors know about it. No point in worrying too much over something that happened weeks ago."

Harry didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded reluctantly. "Yeah… maybe."

Arthav returned to his seat, making a mental note to prepare for what was to come. This was just the beginning, and he had no intention of being caught unprepared. He would have to stay ahead of the curve.

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After lunch, it was time for their first Flying Lesson with the Hufflepuffs. The class took place on the grounds near a neatly arranged row of school brooms. The wind was cool but not too harsh, making it a good day to fly. Madam Hooch, with her sharp yellow eyes, stood before them, her gaze sweeping over the students.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she said briskly. "Stand by your brooms. Stick out your right hand over it and say, 'Up!'"

The students did as instructed, though with mixed results. Some brooms twitched, others rolled lazily, and a few stubbornly stayed on the ground.

Arthav, however, was surprised when his broom immediately jumped into his grasp. He hadn't expected it to be so responsive, but perhaps his practice in intent-based magic, like Transfiguration, had helped.

"Interesting," he muttered to himself.

Madam Hooch nodded approvingly. "Good reflexes, Mr. Nair."

Once everyone had their broom in hand, Madam Hooch demonstrated the proper way to mount. She instructed them to push off gently and hover before landing. Arthav followed her directions, lifting smoothly into the air.

For a brief moment, something in him hesitated. A buried fear stirred—he couldn't quite place it, but in his past life, he was sure he had a fear of heights. He had worried that it might carry over into this life as well. But as the wind rushed past him and the castle stretched below, that fear didn't take hold. Instead, there was an unexpected feeling of freedom. He adjusted his grip, tested his balance, and flew a few careful circles before coming down for a perfect landing.

His heart was still racing, but not from fear—from exhilaration. He had worried for nothing.

Madam Hooch observed him with a knowing smile. "Not bad. Seems like you're a natural."

Arthav let out a breath, nodding to himself. Maybe he wouldn't mind flying after all.

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