After all, using magical power to turn a living thing into a dead object required a very different logic than turning a dead object into sothing else.
The Hufflepuffs fared even worse. Their spells flickered uncertainly, and the beetles in front of most of them only trembled faintly. No matter how hard they tried, they were unable to transform into buttons.
"It seems everyone has run into a few difficulties,"
Professor McGonagall remarked as she paced the classroom, observing her students' progress. Her brows furrowed slightly, and then she swiftly reached down and pulled Ian up from under his desk.
"Where is your beetle?"
There was a twitch at the corner of Professor McGonagall's eye.
"Here."
Ian lifted a freshly grilled sausage, still steaming. He had clearly been unsatisfied with the previous one and had conjured a new one, but he hadn't had ti to take a bite yet. The delicious aroma wafted right into Professor McGonagall's nose.
"..."
Her expression was impossible to describe, part disbelief and part resignation. She had already noticed what he was doing, of course, but hearing the boy say it aloud still made her feel helplessly exasperated.
For a Transfiguration prodigy like Ian...
The older "cat lady" of Hogwarts felt both admiration and frustration.
"I asked for a button!"
She shot him a fierce glare.
"And another thing! Food conjured by Transfiguration is not safe to eat!" Professor McGonagall suspected that Ian had done it mostly as a joke, he surely didn't actually plan to eat it but she still delivered the warning sternly.
She mostly wanted to prevent the other students from following his bad example.
In truth, Ian shouldn't have been able to transfigure food at all. That level of transformation was far beyond what a second-year student should be able to do. Professor McGonagall's gaze softened, though it remained complicated as she looked at Ian. Ian, however, misread her expression as a signal to continue.
"All right then," he said.
With practiced precision, he drew his wand and the sausage in his hand shimred under the smooth flow of his magic, transforming seamlessly into a button.
It wasn't just any button, either. Its surface glead with a subtle magical luster, even more delicate and refined than the one Professor McGonagall had produced earlier.
Gasps and exclamations rippled across the room.
"No wonder they call him Little Professor!"
"Ian's amazing! I knew he could do it!"
"He's a real Transfiguration master!"
…
So of the students began giving Ian grand new titles.
For once, Professor McGonagall, normally a stickler for precision and restraint, didn't correct them.
The elder "cat lady" finally allowed a smile to appear on her face.
Setting aside the occasional headaches he caused, she genuinely liked Ian.
Even though he wasn't in her Gryffindor house, he was an exceptional student, and no teacher could dislike a truly gifted student.
"Very good."
Professor McGonagall said, giving Ian a long, aningful look.
"Now then, Ian, why don't you explain the key points of this spell to everyone?"
She led him up to the teacher's desk and even placed him on top of it.
Ian sat down cross-legged as if he belonged there.
"Uh... , giving a lecture?" He said, clearing his throat. His eyes swept across the room, and he began to speak with calm confidence.
"When performing this transfiguration, first focus your attention and steadily channel your magical power into your wand," he explained.
"At the sa ti, clearly picture in your mind the shape and details of the button. Let the flow of your magic follow that image, guiding the beetle's transformation according to your will."
"Also, the pronunciation of the incantation is crucial. It must be precise and forceful."
His voice was clear and confident. Around him, the students nodded thoughtfully, absorbing every word.
After pausing for a mont, Ian continued.
"The most important thing," he said, "is to rember that we're not killing the beetle. We're rely altering its form of existence. Don't get too hung up on the distinction between life and non-life."
"We are wizards. If we will it to live, then it lives, no matter what form that life takes."
What Ian said clearly ca from his own insights into magic.
The students listened intently; many of them looked as though sothing had just clicked in their minds.
Professor McGonagall's eyes flickered with an unreadable light.
"Well said," she replied at last. "That puts my mind sowhat at ease. With soone like you around, at least when you eventually beco a professor, Hogwarts shouldn't end up too far from normal."
Her voice paused briefly on the word "professor," but her tone was unmistakably approving overall. For most young wizards, receiving that level of praise from Professor McGonagall was an extraordinary honor.
"Looks like Ian will be teaching the next generation soday!"
"What? You an Ian might teach my son soday? That's amazing!"
"Ha! You're not even going to have a son."
Laughter and whispers spread throughout the classroom until Professor McGonagall's sharp gaze swept over the students, instantly silencing them.
The room returned to focused spellwork.
This ti, quite a few students succeeded.
It was clear that Ian's explanation had helped, though a few still struggled. Such is the difference in natural talent. As always, McGonagall was patient, giving each of them individual attention.
Before long, the bell rang, marking the end of class.
Afterward, the students packed up their books and left the classroom. Ian was just about to follow them out when McGonagall's voice stopped him.
"Ian, wait a mont. I'd like you to stay behind."
He looked at her, puzzled, but nodded. Once the last student had left, Professor McGonagall approached him. Her eyes were deep and serious.
"Mr. Prince."
The formal address caught him off guard. She hadn't spoken to him with such gravity in a long ti.
"I noticed sothing during your transfiguration," she said slowly. "You seem to possess a very unique kind of control. I'd like to confirm sothing. Have you perhaps already mastered the Animagus transformation?"
Her sharp eyes locked onto his face, searching for the truth in his expression.
Ian felt his heart give a small jolt, but he quickly steadied himself.
He had nothing to hide.
"Professor, why do you ask?"
He also wanted to know how she had figured it out.
McGonagall saw that he didn't deny it and was now completely certain of her guess.
"You really are...far too bold!"
She wanted to scold him, but the fact that he stood there perfectly fine ant that he hadn't failed in his attempt. So, instead, she raised a hand in frustration and sighed.
"May I see your Animagus form?"
Her tone shifted suddenly, now calr and almost curious.
"Of course, you can refuse," she added after pausing. "For a wizard, an Animagus form can be considered a personal secret, or even a hidden trump card." She made no move to pressure him.
"No problem," Ian replied without hesitation.
He didn't seem to mind.
With that, he transford.
McGonagall, who had only been expecting to see what kind of animal he had chosen, froze the instant the transformation was complete. Her expression stiffened and her eyes widened as though she had just witnessed sothing beyond reason.
"A...magical lifeform!?"
Her voice trembled slightly. She could feel it. This was no ordinary Animagus.
There was sothing about Ian's raven form that radiated an energy unlike any living creature she had ever known.
(End of chapter.)
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