"The art of Transfiguration is a demanding one, requiring imnse dedication and precision. It is more rigorous and scientific than other branches of magic," Professor McGonagall's voice echoed through the silent classroom. "In Transfiguration, anything less than perfect is a complete failure."
She strode down from the front of the room, tapping Harry's textbook with her wand. "Now, please turn to page five. I will repeat the key principles outlined there: When performing a transfiguration, a firm and decisive wand movent is of the utmost importance. Do not wiggle or twirl your wand unnecessarily, or the transfiguration is certain to fail. Before casting, form a clear and precise ntal image of the object you wish to create…"
After reiterating two more key points and introducing the Untransfiguration Charm, she gave them their assignnt: turn the matchstick on their desks into a silver needle.
The students began at once, their faces a mixture of excitent and concentration. But success was elusive. They tried different gestures, varying the cadence of their incantations, but the matchsticks remained stubbornly wooden. Frustration began to mount.
Hermione, however, wasn't looking at her matchstick. She was watching Sean.
A flicker of light danced in Sean's eyes. He wasn't practicing; he was thinking.
Transfiguration was said to be the purest expression of a wizard's will. Its very existence proved a fundantal truth: magic, at its core, was a miracle. And a wizard was the one who commanded that miracle.
With a clear intention, an unwavering belief, and sufficient ntal power, even a first-year student could alter the very substance of an object.
…I know the structure of a matchstick, Sean thought. And I have the confidence to succeed.
He could try to deepen his understanding, visualize the atomic structure, or give himself more positive affirmations. But… he was more curious about sothing else. Sothing ntioned in Magical Theory.
To truly unleash the full potential of any magic, one must also possess sufficient ntal fortitude.
If the emotion for the Wand-Lighting Charm was 'longing,' what was the emotion for Transfiguration?
"It is command," Sean whispered, so quietly only he could hear. "I am the one who commands. Trans—figura—tion!"
[You have practiced a low-level Transfiguration to the Expert standard. Proficiency 30]
A brilliant light flared from the tip of his wand. In a single, instantaneous flash, the matchstick transford into a perfect silver needle, its point sharp and glinting, its end pierced with a tiny, flawless eye.
The stunning success imdiately drew the attention of the entire class.
"rlin's beard! He did it!"
"How did he do that?!"
"Who was it? Sean? What?!"
Beside him, Hermione's jaw dropped. She was certain she hadn't missed a single detail. He had waved his wand and said the words, just like everyone else. Why had it worked for him?
"Mr. Green…"
Professor McGonagall strode over, her eyes fixed on the silver needle. A look of profound relief and pride washed over her face. She was about to speak again when her expression hardened.
"Everyone, away from Mr. Green's desk. Now!"
Her sharp command sent the crowd of gawking students scattering back to their seats. Sean, however, hadn't noticed any of it. His gaze was focused, intense, and unwavering.
I can do more, he told himself.
"Trans—figura—tion!"
With a sharp, forceful slash of his wand, the rat in the cage on Hermione's desk transford into a silver snuffbox. It wasn't a perfect transformation—the snuffbox still had a twitching rat's tail—but it was enough to elicit a collective gasp of awe from the entire class.
[You have practiced an interdiate Transfiguration to the Novice standard. Proficiency 50]
"Mr. Green," Professor McGonagall's voice trembled slightly, her usual sternness giving way to sothing else entirely. "That is… a disturbing level of talent…" She paused, seeing Sean look up at her, a shy and slightly exhausted expression on his face.
Her tightly pressed lips softened, and a genuine, deep-seated joy shone in her eyes. …in a reassuringly responsible wielder.
"For performing Transfiguration so far beyond the first-year level, Mr. Green… ten points to Ravenclaw!"
A broad, satisfied smile spread across her face.
"Brilliant!" Michael cheered, pumping his fist in the air. As he did, he surreptitiously pocketed the matchstick from Terry's desk in front of him. Terry, snapping out of his stupor, was about to get angry when Michael clapped him on the shoulder.
"Did you see that, Terry?! Ten points to Ravenclaw!"
Terry looked over at Sean, his annoyance forgotten. A shy grin spread across his face. Michael, anwhile, was snickering to himself over his stolen matchstick, earning a weary headshake from Anthony, who was leading the applause.
[You have practiced an interdiate Transfiguration to the Apprentice standard. Proficiency 10]
[You have practiced an interdiate Transfiguration to the Apprentice standard. Proficiency 10]
[You have practiced an interdiate Transfiguration to the Apprentice standard. Proficiency 10]
As the class continued, Sean, having recovered a bit of his energy, went right back to grinding his proficiency. As his energy waned again, he took a quick look at his Panel.
[Transfiguration: Apprentice (113/900)]
Note: Unlocking Novice-level Transfiguration will grant a Novice-level Title in the field of Transfiguration.
Incredible progress, he thought. My Light Violet talent is no joke.
"Hey! Where's my matchstick?!"
Just before the bell rang, the usually quiet Terry let out a small yelp. A mont later, Michael shot out of the classroom like a blur, calling over his shoulder as he passed Sean, "That was amazing, Sean!"
Sean chuckled as he watched Terry give chase, then turned and headed for the greenhouses.
He saw a familiar figure in the corridor just outside.
"Bruce," he said, quickening his pace.
"Ah, Sean," the Hufflepuff prefect replied with a warm smile. "Off to the greenhouses?"
"Yes."
The two of them walked together down the long corridor. The afternoon sun stread through the high windows, bathing the castle in a warm glow and casting long shadows from the suits of armour and statues that lined the walls.
"Do you know why Professor Sprout is processing all those Potion ingredients?" Bruce asked with a raised eyebrow.
"For the first-years' Potions class?" Sean guessed.
Bruce threw his hands up in mock despair. "Now I see why you were Sorted into Ravenclaw… In that case, you can probably guess what we're doing today, can't you?"
Sean thought for a mont. "No, I can't."
"Aha!" Bruce bead, clearly delighted to finally know sothing Sean didn't. "We're processing slugs—horned and hornless. And porcupine quills. If we're quick, we can get it all done today."
Sean nodded, a thrill of anticipation running through him. If he could learn how to prepare these final ingredients today, he would have completed the first major step in his plan.
Filled with this quiet joy, Sean pushed open the wooden door to the greenhouse.
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