Outstanding in all seven subjects?
Sean pondered the monuntal task as he hauled his suitcase along the platform. He was early, and the first few carriages of the Hogwarts Express were still mostly empty. He found a vacant compartnt in the second carriage and tried to heave his luggage aboard, but the heavy trunk wouldn't budge. He tried twice, and both tis it thudded back onto the platform.
He paused, then sighed and drew his wand.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
[You have practiced the Levitation Charm once to the Novice standard. Proficiency 3]
As the incantation left his lips and the notification chid in his mind, the brick-heavy suitcase floated effortlessly into the air.
Now that's more like it, Sean thought with satisfaction, stowing his wand as he guided the trunk into the compartnt.
What he failed to notice was a young witch in a nearby compartnt, watching him with a look of intense curiosity.
Outside the window, smoke from the steam engine billowed over the chattering crowd. Cats of every colour and pattern wove between legs, and the hooting of owls provided a constant, restless harmony to the buzz of conversation and the rumbling of trunks.
Sean settled into his seat and opened a book nearly half the size of the table: Hogwarts: A History. He turned to a page listing the seven core subjects for first-years: Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Herbology, Defence Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, and Astronomy.
So, how does one achieve 'Outstanding'?
He needed a benchmark, a standard to aim for. The answer was obvious: Hermione Granger. If he rembered correctly, in her O.W.L. exams, she achieved nine 'O's for Outstanding and one 'E' for Exceeds Expectations. Her academic performance was a model of consistency. If he could match her work ethic and results from the very beginning, he'd be on the right track.
Was it a difficult goal? Of course. His natural magical talent was abysmal. Aside from History of Magic, every single one of those subjects demanded it.
But was it impossible?
If I can't do this even with the Panel, he thought grimly, I might as well just snap my wand and accept I'm a Squib.
"Ti to grind."
He decided to start with the hardest subject first. Putting away Hogwarts: A History, he retrieved A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. It was a handso, crimson-coloured book with gold-leaf filigree on the cover. Inside were the fundantal laws and techniques of the magical art, the standard text for first- and second-year students.
The classic first exercise was turning a matchstick into a needle. If he could accomplish that within a month, Sean felt confident an 'Outstanding' would be within his grasp.
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. Beginners should speak the incantation clearly, whereas advanced wizards may perform the spell non-verbally…
Sean read every word with ticulous care. His plan was simple: he would first morize the entire two-hundred-page textbook, and only then would he begin his practical exercises.
His reasoning was just as simple. Hermione had morized all her schoolbooks before she even arrived at Hogwarts, and she had beco the brightest witch of her age. The path to success was right there; why wouldn't he follow it? Besides, with his lack of talent, he had to work harder than anyone else.
There was another, more pressing motivation: the full set of books had cost him eleven Galleons. The sting of the expense filled Sean with a vengeful desire to extract every last Knut's worth of knowledge from them, like a man at an all-you-can-eat buffet determined to get his money's worth.
Driven by this mindset, he had already read and roughly morized every other textbook he'd bought. He was now over 180 pages into this one and planned to finish it today.
Poverty, Sean mused wryly, truly is the mother of invention.
He was so imrsed in his book that he didn't notice when the compartnt door slid open.
"Excuse ," a voice said. "Is anyone else sitting here?"
A girl with bushy brown hair and a slightly bossy tone stood in the doorway.
"No," Sean replied without looking up. If his half-year at the orphanage had taught him anything, it was focus. They were all like seeds of wild grass, their fates entirely out of their own hands. If they didn't learn to grow on their own, the slightest wind could blow them away forever.
After that single word, Sean said nothing more. The train began to move with a great lurch, and eventually a third person joined them in the compartnt, but Sean remained lost to the world.
Outside, the landscape rolled by like a living oil painting—winding rivers, fields of wheat swaying in golden waves, and the occasional farmhouse giving way to hills of dark green.
Hermione read her own book, occasionally glancing at the scenery, and at the quiet, focused boy sitting opposite her.
"He looks just like my cat," a quiet voice said from beside her. "I an, I know wizards can't be cats, obviously, but the resemblance is… uncanny."
Hermione looked at the black-haired boy who had just spoken. His hair was fluffy at the sides, his long eyelashes fluttered as he read, and he had an aura of deep tranquility.
She nodded enthusiastically, her eyes lighting up with the thrill of finding a kindred spirit. "Justin, that's… that's the perfect word for it!"
Justin brightened, and the two imdiately fell into a hushed, excited discussion.
Sean, oblivious, did not notice he had beco the subject of their conversation. The train rocked rhythmically, and soon the only sounds in the compartnt were the quiet whispers of his companions and the soft rustle of turning pages.
Finally, Sean finished the last paragraph. He let out a long breath, looking up to rub his sore eyes.
"Right then. Nothing holding back now."
His eyes glead with purpose. He set down the book, pulled a matchstick from his robe pocket, and closed his eyes. He pictured its shape, its structure, its properties. The theoretical knowledge from the book fused with a flicker of scientific understanding from his past life.
A wave of confidence washed over him. He lowered his voice to a whisper and spoke the incantation. "Trans—figura—tion!"
The matchstick barely changed, but a grin spread across Sean's face.
[You have practiced a low-level Transfiguration once to the Novice standard. Proficiency 3]
"Did he just say sothing?" Justin whispered to Hermione, his face a perfect picture of confusion. "And what's he doing?"
"I think… it's Transfiguration," Hermione breathed. "Oh, no! The book says it's an incredibly dangerous spell! If you say it wrong, the consequences can be dreadful!" She wrung her hands, her brow furrowed with worry, and she opened her mouth to stop him.
But the notifications were already flashing in Sean's mind.
[You have practiced a low-level Transfiguration to the Adept standard. Proficiency 10]
[You have practiced a low-level Transfiguration to the Adept standard. Proficiency 10]
Sean tried again and again, feeling his connection to the spell growing stronger with each attempt. It was a sensation he'd never experienced before. Magic… was starting to feel easy.
Could it be? he thought, a wild idea taking root. Am I… a Transfiguration genius?!
[You have practiced a low-level Transfiguration to the Adept standard. Proficiency 10]
[Beginner Transfiguration: Unlocked]
[New Title available in the field of Transfiguration. Please view.]
[A new Wizarding Talent has been discovered. Please view.]
As the final notification appeared, Sean's eyes narrowed in triumph.
Another piece of the scholarship puzzle, solved.
Just then, a sharp voice cut through his concentration.
"You mustn't perform dangerous Transfiguration on the train! You can't control it!"
It was Hermione, her voice loud, stern, and tinged with angry concern.
The mont she finished speaking, the matchstick on the table trembled. Before the girl's widening eyes, it slowly elongated and sharpened, the wood turning to tal until a silver needle lay in its place, its tip glinting in the light from the window.
The air in the compartnt went still. Hermione's final word caught in her throat.
"rlin's beard…" Justin whispered, his eyes as wide as Galleons. "I've read about that in the textbook. Did he… did he actually do it?"
Sean finally looked up, his gaze eting Hermione's, the tips of her ears turning a faint pink.
"I'm sorry," he said politely, looking between her and the stunned face of Justin. He had been so focused, he hadn't registered a single word. "Could you please say that again? I didn't quite hear you."
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