Harry Potter rubbed his chin as he stared at the matchstick in front of him. He recalled what he saw McGonagall do, which wasn't very informative. She hadn't told them what exactly they were doing, just to will the matchstick to turn into a needle. She hadn't used a particular incantation or anything.

What she'd said sounded like vaguely Latin-inspired nonsense.

Maybe it was as simple as that. Who knew how Magic worked? Certainly not Harry. For all he knew, the silly wand waving and incantations were wholly unnecessary dramatics. Actually, considering how much of a flair for the dramatic wizards in general seemed to have from what little he'd seen of them…

With a random waving of his wand, Harry willed the matchstick to become a needle. And it did.

"Huh," said Harry, raising an eyebrow.

"Excellent, Mr. Potter! On your first attempt, even! I have never seen such prowess since Professor Dumbledore himself! That will be ten points to Gryffindor!" said McGonagall, sounding far too cheerful for the strict and stern image she'd presented earlier.