Chapter 58: New Path Unfolds

A cat in the blink of an eye turned into a person.

This spectacle caused an uproar among the young wizards in the classroom.

"The cat just became our professor!"

"Good heavens, I was thinking of taking it back to our dorm!"

"So cool! I want to turn into a tortoise! One that lives ten thousand years!"

Seeing that her dramatic entrance had impressed the class on this first day, Professor McGonagall's lips curved slightly. Every Hogwarts professor knew how to spark the young wizards' interest in learning.

"Had you not lost track of meal times, know that I generally disapprove of anyone doing…other things during my lessons,"

she reminded Ian, making a small gesture for him and his two companions to pick their seats.

Despite the spacious classroom—

with more than enough desks and chairs—only about thirty first-years from two Houses were in attendance, leaving half the furniture unused. Perhaps, across Hogwarts' thousand-year history, certain eras saw these rooms overflow with students; now, only a fraction of seats were occupied.

"Good morning, everyone. I'm Minerva McGonagall, and for the next few years, I'll be teaching you Transfiguration,"

Professor McGonagall introduced herself briefly.

When the students quieted,

"Transfiguration is a complex and remarkable branch of magic—immensely useful in both daily life and combative situations."

With that, she flicked her wand.

Almost instantly,

the lectern beside her transformed into a snarling leopard.

"Grrr!"

It roared, shocking the young wizards into shrieks of alarm. Michael and William looked as though their eyes might pop out. Ian's eyes, however, shone like emeralds.

Transfiguration!

His lifelong nemesis!

He wondered how long it would be before he achieved such mastery…

"Grrr, grrr!"

The leopard prowled the classroom for a while before another wave of McGonagall's wand restored it to its ordinary wooden form.

"So, she changed a piece of furniture into a leopard…and then back into furniture?"

Michael whispered, baffled, to Ian and William.

"Obviously,"

the two replied, equally confused by his question.

"But what if the professor actually had a leopard disguised as a lectern from the start—then changed it back to a leopard, and back to a lectern…?"

Michael, it seemed, had a unique way of viewing things.

"…"

Ian was speechless.

Unaware of Michael's conspiracy theories,

Professor McGonagall now turned to the eager young wizards:

"Turning furniture into animals is advanced magic, taught in later years,"

she said, having whetted everyone's appetite to learn. It was simple—but highly effective.

A first-year raised her hand, eyes shining:

"Professor, if I master Transfiguration, can I turn my little brother into a rainbow pony?"

She was a cute-looking Hufflepuff with round glasses.

Her question made Ian swivel around abruptly.

Whose ally is this…?

Why isn't she in Slytherin…?

"Transfiguration is strictly forbidden on fellow humans, Miss Laura. You must abandon such a dangerous idea,"

Professor McGonagall warned in a firm tone.

"Some of you may have found that demonstration exciting, but in fact, Transfiguration is arguably the most dangerous magic you'll study in your school years,"

the older witch continued. Her voice was calm, yet carried clearly:

"Changing any object into something else is a perilous process."

"Sixteen known magical creatures came into being from wizards' failed Transfiguration—among them, the famed Harpy of Greece."

"Those poor people, lacking due caution, condemned both themselves and their descendants to suffering. And that's among the less tragic outcomes of Transfiguration accidents."

Professor McGonagall swept her gaze across them all,

her words brimming with significance,

leaving plenty of unsettling possibilities unspoken.

"So, caution must always be your foremost rule in Transfiguration. I sincerely hope none of you end up as cautionary tales in future textbooks."

Her sober reminder

made the class grow tense.

"If I could turn into a Hungarian Horntail, I guess I wouldn't mind staying that way,"

William muttered under his breath, catching Ian's curious eye.

Truly in line with an egg-laying bloodline…

"I'm sure you now realize how risky Transfiguration can be. Let me guide you to appreciate its wonders—beginning with changing a matchstick into a needle."

Sure enough,

the first challenge for new students in Transfiguration was always the classic matchstick. After handing them out, McGonagall signaled everyone to begin. Ian gazed at his matchstick and sighed inwardly:

[Transfiguration (Level 0) 38/50]

He hadn't been idle lately, but his efforts in Transfiguration had yielded the usual meager results. One lesson wouldn't be enough to push him over the threshold.

"Remember, you must enunciate the incantation precisely, and envision the target object clearly in your mind,"

McGonagall said, then let them practice.

"Vera Verto!"

Ian recalled the textbook's instructions, straining to picture a steel needle's structure. Yet, just like in his earlier attempts, the matchstick only wriggled and distorted, refusing to change into a needle.

Time passed—

and soon, William successfully produced a needle first among the Ravenclaws. Professor McGonagall rewarded their House with five points.

Spurred on by the prospect of points, the rest of Ravenclaw followed suit, as did a few Hufflepuffs who succeeded as well.

"Ah, c'mon!"

Michael, who was nearly there, only fueled Ian's anxiety.

"Professor."

Ian raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Prince?"

McGonagall turned at once, having been observing his struggles. The matchstick on Ian's desk hadn't made much progress.

This hardly matched what Dumbledore had said…

"I've hit a bit of a snag."

He'd been meaning to seek help from her for some time now.

"Go on."

She nodded.

"Well, as everyone knows, wood is mainly cellulose, hemicellulose, pectin, and lignin, whereas iron is basically iron atoms."

Ian didn't glance at his classmates, who were muttering what on earth did he mean by "everyone knows." In a measured tone, he continued:

"I've been trying to convert each part of the wood into iron atoms, but…it's really difficult."

He sounded perplexed that other students managed it so effortlessly.

"?????"

Not just the first-years—

even McGonagall's eyes widened a fraction.

"It appears you've studied Alchemy somewhat…" she said, eyeing Ian curiously. She seemed to look him over twice, even three times.

"But that knowledge isn't really helpful for Transfiguration,"

she concluded, hesitating a moment before speaking again in her wise, steady voice.

"Mr. Prince, how do you view wizardry and magic in general?"

Her words came out more solemn than usual.

"Magic originates within the wizard, fueled by the power of belief. It's the embodiment of what our hearts desire,"

Ian responded, after some thought, summing up his current understanding.

McGonagall's gaze flickered with surprise.

"Dumbledore was right, I see. Indeed—you're correct. Magic is born from the mind, an echo of imagination…yet you're failing because you're only twisting matter."

She used a novel phrase to describe magic and pointed to the core of Ian's trouble with Transfiguration.

"An echo of imagination still requires a physical medium, doesn't it? How's that different from twisting matter?"

Ian felt close to some insight, yet it eluded him.

"Oh, there's a great difference, child. Twisting matter is merely using magic to convert one material into another. But that alone isn't what makes a wizard powerful."

McGonagall's eyes flickered with a complex emotion—some hint of struggle—and then, as though making a decision, her gaze softened.

"Normally, I don't pass on risky knowledge to first-years, but I believe you, Mr. Prince, truly need proper guidance in this area,"

"I can't watch you go astray."

Glancing around at the puzzled faces, then back at Ian, whose eyes brimmed with curiosity, she gently explained:

"Remember: we wizards do not twist matter; we grant matter new rules. Ancient wizards believed a certain phrase—one that remains true today."

With that,

McGonagall lifted her wand.

Glowing words emerged from its tip—

like silent fireworks forming letters that hung momentarily in the air. The young wizards stared blankly, none able to recognize these symbols, whispering uncertainly among themselves.

"A wizard is akin to a god."

Dazzling characters shone in Ian's eyes. McGonagall had written them in Runes, and in this moment, those words felt like the opening of a vast horizon.

The wheel of history…began to turn.

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