Hogwarts: Through the Veil of Time

"Planes?" Hannah asked, surprised. "Those big iron things with wings that fly across the sky?"

- Yes, big iron things with wings, - nodded Justin, clearly not accepting such a description for aviation. - I had problems with flying. In principle, I understand what is necessary for flying without magic, what forces, aerodynamics, and so on. And the concept of flying, with a complete disregard for these forces, requirements and conditions, did not fit into my head at all.

We were not the first to arrive for breakfast, but we were not the last either. Having taken our places at the table, we received our portions of a slightly different breakfast, although there was standard oatmeal, but now there were no sausages, but sausage, scrambled eggs and beans in tomato sauce.

The first lesson was Transfiguration, and we all had to study it together again. A few minutes before the lesson started, when everyone had taken their seats, Anthony Goldstein, a tousled blond Ravenclaw, decided to ask a burning question:

"Professor McGonagall…" he raised his hand and stood up from his seat.

The professor, who was sitting at her desk filling out some paperwork, looked up at him over her glasses.

- Yes, Mr. Goldstein?

- Why did all the faculties start studying together in Potions and Transfiguration classes? They used to be divided into two groups.

"Headmaster Dumbledore's orders, Mr. Goldstein," McGonagall replied as if it was obvious.

- But the reasons?

The quiet hum of conversation that the students had been spending their time with before class finally died down, and attention was focused on the professor. After all, this was a pressing question, as I understand it.

"This decision is due to the presence of Dementors in the area around the school," McGonagall began to speak clearly, as if on notes. "The schedule has been introduced in all courses and will allow students to be in as many groups as possible as often as possible, neutralizing the negative influence of the Dementors."

"But they're far away, Professor!" an unknown Ravenclaw girl was indignant.

"Certainly, Miss Turpin," McGonagall nodded in agreement. "But even at this distance, their presence has an effect. I'm sure you've already noticed subtle changes. It's as if the colours have become less vibrant, the usual amusements have become less enjoyable, and your morning porridge has become even more bland."

McGonagall's last sentence drew timid smiles from some of those present.

"Won't that overload you? Working with so many students at once..." Goldstein continued asking questions.

"Thank you for your concern, Mr. Goldstein," McGonagall smiled at the corners of her lips, "but I have often had to work with a large number of students studying in only two houses.

The professor glanced at the table clock.

— It's time to start the lesson.

Everyone immediately fell silent and concentrated, and I began to think about the situation. Dementors do affect the mind, but too insignificantly. On the other hand, if they stay here for six months or a year, the cumulative effect may already be significant. Maybe it's worth thinking about protection from such influence? But in such things, specifics are important, good basic knowledge along with more specialized, clearly formed ones. And no matter how hard I tried to stretch the threads of associations through the memory of the fragments, and not only the elf, I came across emptiness - there was nothing to remember. Although there were moments when, it would seem, the memories should lead somewhere, but everything broke off.

"Don't yawn," Ernie MacMillan, who had sat down next to me, nudged me with his elbow. "We haven't practiced transfiguration spells yet, have we?"

There was some merit to Ernie's remark, since we hadn't yet covered transfiguration in our impromptu course on how to clear up my ignorance of the practice of magic.

"Mr. Granger, Mr. MacMillan," Professor McGonagall interrupted her story about the topic of the lesson, turning her gaze from the board with complex formulas and diagrams to us. "Would you mind sharing with us a topic so important that you considered it possible to ignore my lecture?"

"I beg your pardon, Professor," Ernie said modestly, lowering his eyes, causing quiet laughter from those around him.

Nothing changes. Dwarf, elf, human - students always find it funny when their colleague gets into such a minor misfortune.

- Mr. Granger?

McGonagall looked at me with her stern gaze, which almost imperceptibly read: "Perhaps you will answer?"

"We, Madam Professor, are concerned about my lack of any practice in transfiguration.

- It's good that you raised this topic yourself, Mr. Granger.

McGonagall waved her wand, and various objects flew out of the door into the room next to the classroom one after another. Matches, glasses, pieces of wood, a mouse, a beetle and other small stuff. Before they had time to land on the desk in front of me, I already knew what was going on.

"As I understand it," McGonagall said as the objects landed behind my desk, "you know the theory very well. Since Transfiguration is a very dangerous branch of magic, you will practice the material we have covered here, in my presence, and no other way.

Nodding at the logic of such a move, I mentally agreed with the professor - the consequences of an unsuccessful transfiguration, if you believe the textbooks and banal logic, can even if not kill, then seriously cripple, deprive you of mobility, and you simply will not be able to get to the hospital wing on your own. All that will remain is to lie and slowly die from your unsuccessful experiments.

"If you manage, without outside help," an imperceptible smile appeared on the professor's face, "to demonstrate all the spells we have already covered during this lesson, as well as to master the topic of the current lesson, then you and your faculty will receive twenty points."

The other students immediately began to whisper, and the main leitmotif of this unrest was the unprecedented generosity along with the incredible difficulty of the task. I could not help but notice the mocking glances from some students from absolutely all faculties.

- In case of failure? - I couldn't help but find out about the other side of this coin.

"You and your faculty will lose five points," the professor replied, maintaining a stern expression on her face but smiling only with her eyes.

Nodding, I settled myself more comfortably at the desk, took out my wand, and aimed at the very first training spell - turning a wooden match into a silver needle. The professor, having made sure that I had started performing it, continued the lesson, the topic of which I had been listening to on the edge of my consciousness - the obligatory repetition of Gamp's laws, the knowledge and understanding of the reasons for which a wizard simply must have. Having made the correct wave of the wand and keeping the necessary transfiguration formula in my head, I pointed my magical instrument at the match. A thin trail of magic reached out to it, enveloped it, "walked" along the match, inside it and around it, but nothing happened.

I waved it again, adding the image of a silver needle to the image of the formula in my head. Again, nothing. The quiet chuckles from the Slytherins caught my attention - Malfoy and his big comrades were chuckling, looking surreptitiously at my attempts.

"What, Granger, not doing magic?" he asked quietly, trying not to attract McGonagall's attention. "A match is too much for the likes of you to carry."

Chuckling to myself, I did what I knew how to do - without any tools or wands, I sent a clot of neutral magic at Malfoy, which carried a simple installation to change the guy's hair color to red. I think something like this will touch him to the quick - it's not for nothing that he constantly pesters the red-haired Weasley?

My trick worked, and Malfoy's almost white hair immediately began to acquire a rich red color, which could not help but cause bewilderment among those who saw him.

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