The Second lesson on Transfiguration Theory and Apparition

"What if I transform a button that's already sewn onto clothes into a beetle?" Anthony inquired. "Since the button has interacted with the thread, what happens to the beetle?"

"It won't be a problem," Professor McGonagall assured him.

She demonstrated, transforming the small square table in front of Anthony into a pig, then back into a pale yellow wooden table as he hastily removed the precariously balanced teapot from the pig's back.

"No matter how much it resembles a pig, it's still fundamentally a table," she explained. "Transfiguration alters form and appearance, not the inherent nature of the object."

Anthony nodded. "The distinction between animate and inanimate." This was a concept he was familiar with.

"Precisely. No matter how convincingly Transfiguration can mimic living creatures, we can never truly create life. Understanding the difference might be difficult at first," Professor McGonagall paused, seeming to recall her colleague's necromantic abilities. "But I suppose that shouldn't be an issue for you."

Anthony pointed his wand at the table, focusing intently on the idea that no matter what it became, it would remain a small, 36-inch round table.

Even if it looked like a pig, sounded like a pig, and oinked like a pig, it would always be a functional, rustic table in the staff room. No matter how absurd it seemed, this was magic.

Then, it transformed into a pig with a wood grain pattern. There were no visible seams between its legs and body, as if the limbs had been forcefully attached. The wood-grained pig lowered its head and sniffed at the staff room floor, its snout still bearing traces of pale yellow paint.

"A valiant effort," Professor McGonagall encouraged him calmly, picking up her student's essay once more. "I hope you and your pig-shaped table enjoy your time together."

Anthony was trying to prevent the pig from chewing on his robes. "Minerva!" Unsure how to communicate with a pig, he could only glare at the transfigured object.

Professor McGonagall looked up at her colleague's standoff with the pig, a hint of amusement flashing across her stern face. She raised her wand and with a flick, undid Anthony's less-than-successful transformation.

Anthony patted down his robes, eyeing the table and recalling the wood grain pattern that had mirrored the table's surface on the pig's back. He sighed. "That was the most obviously vegan pig I've ever seen."

"It's far from the strangest Transfiguration I've witnessed," Professor McGonagall reassured him. "Imagine a desk attempting to roll across the floor, Henry. Now imagine four such desks in a single classroom. And please, don't try to eat it, vegan or not. Transfiguration is not meant for culinary purposes."

"Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration," Anthony recited. Though his practice had been fraught with setbacks, he had at least mastered the fundamental theory of Transfiguration.

"Indeed," Professor McGonagall said, pleased.

Anthony took a deep breath, raised his wand, and continued his attempts to conjure a convincing pig during his leisurely holiday. Across from him, Professor McGonagall bent her head and marked a "P" on the essay.

...

"Can Transfiguration create something that doesn't exist?" Anthony asked, his curiosity piqued.

All seven years' worth of Transfiguration essays had been graded, and Professor McGonagall was now poring over a thick notebook, comparing notes and fulfilling her duties as Deputy Headmistress. She finally had the leisure to enjoy her tea, flip through a book, and chat with Anthony.

"How non-existent?" she countered.

"Um?" Anthony was caught off guard.

Professor McGonagall looked up and elaborated, "It depends on how you define existence, Henry. Does this pig exist?" Her pointed hat nodded towards the pig, currently attempting to pry open the snack cabinet.

Anthony smiled. "Alright. Let me rephrase: Can Transfiguration create a horse with a horn on its head and wings on its sides?"

Professor McGonagall pondered for a moment, then raised her wand and traced a complex pattern in the air. The creature he described materialized before Anthony's eyes – a non-existent unicorn.

The majestic creature pawed at the staff room floor, whinnied, and spread its wings, nearly knocking over the nearby tea tins and milk bottles.

"A combination of a unicorn and a pegasus, I suppose," Professor McGonagall said, still seated at her desk. "At least to this extent, though without any magical abilities. What kind of creature were you referring to, Henry?"

Anthony was already on his feet. He hastily returned the displaced items to the cabinet and stared at the Transfigured creature, mesmerized.

"Unicorns, unicorns that don't exist," he replied. "I've wanted to try this for a long time. Thank you, Minerva."

This was the unicorn from the illustrations in his first fairy tale book. Unlike the unicorns of the real wizarding world, the illustrator had believed they should have wings, and young Anthony had wholeheartedly agreed that these elegant, majestic creatures should soar freely.

He gazed in awe at the transformed stool, its silky mane, long, sleek horn, powerful muscles, expansive wings, and calm, gentle eyes.

"You're a genius, Minerva, a genius," Anthony said, beaming. "This is exactly what I imagined."

...

As the unicorn vanished due to the limited space in the staff room, Anthony couldn't help but sigh.

"So Transfiguration can indeed create things that don't truly exist," he mused. "Magic truly is... magical."

Professor McGonagall shook her head. When it came to Transfiguration, her enthusiasm was palpable. "That's because you described something we believe is possible, Henry. If you were to conjure... say, a rabbit with three ears, it would be more challenging, as it deviates from common sense and imagination. And if you wanted a blue robe that was only red, that would be impossible."

"Round sugar cubes," Anthony muttered absently. (Note 1)

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Anthony said. "So, if I can't imagine something, I can't conjure it?"

Professor McGonagall confirmed, "That's correct."

"What if I have only a vague idea?" Anthony pressed. "Like, I can't picture a pig in perfect detail, just a general impression. Would that affect my ability to transform a table into a pig?"

Professor McGonagall nodded. "We have an explanation for that in Woffling... It would have some impact, but not a significant one, because most people know what pigs are and believe they exist. This shared understanding flows into the magic, allowing even those who can't visualize a pig clearly to create one that aligns with the collective perception – a normal pig." She added approvingly, "If you were a student, I'd award you extra points for that insightful question."

Anthony smiled. "You can award those points to Gryffindor, Minerva, for your clear and patient explanation."

He thought about it and had to admit that this explanation made sense, at least in line with his own experiences with Transfiguration.

But on the other hand, he couldn't help but shake his head. "It's fascinating, this collective unconscious..."

This also helped him understand why wizards were so proud of their magic. From a certain perspective, he now grasped why they believed they and Muggles inhabited different worlds.

In fact, Anthony now saw the entire world as a jigsaw puzzle forced together. On one side was the Muggle world, believing everything could be explained by physical matter and its interactions, leaning towards materialism. On the other side was the wizarding world, emphasizing emotions and belief, tending towards subjective idealism. And then there was necromancy, a magic that seemed to align with a pluralistic view of reality.

If there truly was a creator in this world, Anthony imagined them as a toddler playing with clay, haphazardly grabbing colors, mashing them together, and calling it a masterpiece.

...

After the Easter holidays, Anthony had his second Apparition class.

Several students were chatting and laughing loudly about their holiday adventures. When they noticed Anthony standing nearby, a few exchanged glances they thought were discreet – more like grimaces – and suddenly complained of stomachaches.

By the time they returned from the bathroom, most of the Apparition trainees had arrived. They had to reluctantly relinquish their front-row spots and find an empty space at the back of the hall.

With a soft crack, the Ministry of Magic instructor, Wilkie Twycross, appeared before them, punctual as ever.

He reiterated the importance of the three D's, waved his wand, and conjured wooden hoops for everyone to practice with. The trainees exchanged surprised looks. If every class was going to be like this, Anthony genuinely felt Filch could qualify as a teaching assistant.

After his previous splinching incident, Twycross had thoughtfully provided a hoop for Anthony as well, discreetly placing it before him.

Anthony glanced at the instructor. Twycross still avoided direct eye contact, but when the student next to Anthony collapsed from a combination of nerves and low blood sugar, he calmly levitated the student to the side to rest.

Destination, Determination, Deliberation.

Anthony carefully studied the wooden hoop across from him. After several rounds of observation and looking away, he closed his eyes, ensuring he had a clear mental image of its appearance and distance. Then, he extended his arms and began to spin—

From the corner of his eye, he saw the other trainees had stopped practicing and were nervously watching him. Anthony exhaled and concentrated on the hoop, visualizing himself standing within it, his head held high—

Then came the familiar squeezing sensation. He felt his entire body being compressed, stretched, twisted, and elongated. His eyeballs, eardrums, and nose felt like they were being pushed inward. He wondered if Dumbledore's nose ever got dislodged during Apparition, imagining the Headmaster frequently needing to travel for meetings—

Finally, there was applause. Anthony's ears were still ringing, so it took a moment to register what was happening.

He looked down and saw he was standing inside the wooden hoop. Not exactly where he had intended, but still within the circle, and with all his limbs still attached to his torso. He tentatively touched his head, then his neck.

"Professor Anthony, don't worry, you're all in one piece!" a student shouted.

Another one chimed in, "We were all watching!"

Anthony breathed a sigh of relief. He really didn't want to scare off any more Stan Shunpikes.

Twycross's voice was quiet. "Well done. We have our first success, class."

...

As Anthony walked back to the starting point, several students cautiously approached him, seeking advice on successful Apparition. Anthony offered a vague outline of his thought process, but when they pressed for specifics, he nearly blurted out Twycross's three D's.

He realized, after successfully Apparating himself, that those three points were incredibly subtle and perfectly encapsulated the entire process.

He attempted it again. This time, the squeezing sensation came faster, and his arrival point was closer to his intended destination, but the awkward feeling of being compressed remained.

Upon his return, more students gathered around him. Anthony patiently recounted his experience and offered advice based on his limited expertise.

"Try to spin as smoothly as you can, young man," he advised a Slytherin student who nearly toppled over. "Don't rush it. You're not a spinning top." The student, in his eagerness, had spun too quickly and promptly tripped over his own feet.

Anthony demonstrated a smooth turn, encouraging the student to try again.

But even mimicking his movements perfectly, the student couldn't replicate the "squeezing sensation" Anthony described.

A sixth-year Gryffindor student, with a loud crack, landed three feet away from his designated hoop. Fortunately, he remained intact.

Everyone in the hall seemed to hold their breath.

A brief silence hung in the air before cheers and applause erupted. Anthony realized that not only he, but almost everyone else, had quickly scanned the student's original location, checking for any stray body parts.

A head, perhaps.

As Anthony joined in the applause, he suspected his previous splinching incident had served as a vivid lesson in Apparition safety.

He overheard a nearby student whisper, "What if I get splinched..."

"I'm a special case," Anthony reassured him, hoping to quell his fears. "It's not easy to achieve that level of splinching."

He probably knew why the student struggled with Apparition. The fear of splinching was hindering his determination.

Seeing the student's panic and impending apology, Anthony waved a hand dismissively. "Have a little more confidence in yourself. Or in me, for that matter. I'm fairly certain no one else in this room could manage such a spectacular splinching."

He had researched the matter later. Besides cases caused by emergency Apparition, most splinching occurred due to insufficient focus on a particular body part.

And Anthony had good reason to believe he was likely the person in the entire hall who cared least about his head.

....

This kind of candy appears in "Charlie's Chocolate Factory". Given that the book was first published in 1964 and published in the UK in 1967, it is not surprising that Anthony has read it.

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