System Update: Transfiguration.exe Installed

Zephyr sat at his desk in Transfiguration class, twirling the matchstick between his fingers. Professor McGonagall had just finished demonstrating how to turn it into a needle, and the class was now expected to replicate the spell. Easy enough except when Zephyr flicked his wand and muttered the incantation, something felt... different.

Instead of smoothly shifting into a needle, the matchstick trembled in his hand. A faint pulse ran through his fingers, like a whisper of unseen energy twisting the spell into something else. Then, with a sharp crack, the tiny wooden stick morphed into a dagger.

A sleek, silver blade glinted in the classroom light, its edge sharp enough to make even a seasoned duelist jealous. The ornate hilt fit perfectly in Zephyr's palm, like it had been waiting for him. For a moment, silence settled over the students around him. Then, Ron choked on his own breath.

"Mate, that is not a needle."

Hermione, eyes wide, leaned in. "That's Zephyr, that's not even remotely close to the intended result! How did you ?"

Zephyr blinked at the dagger, processing what just happened. "Uh... bonus points for creativity?"

Professor McGonagall had been walking past and paused, her sharp gaze flickering between the dagger and Zephyr. The usual sternness in her face softened into something unreadable curiosity, perhaps. She studied him in silence before finally speaking.

"Fascinating."

With a flick of her wand, she transformed the dagger back into a matchstick. "See me after class, Mr. Rid."

Zephyr gulped. His wand pulsed faintly in his grip, like it had a mind of its own.

When class finally ended, Zephyr strutted out of Transfiguration, still gripping the dagger that had once been a matchstick, grinning like he had just unlocked Ultra Instinct. His robe swayed dramatically at least, that's what he told himself. In reality, it probably just looked like he had gas.

Ron and Harry jogged up beside him, both looking amazed and mildly horrified, eyes darting between Zephyr and the transfigured dagger still in his hand. "Mate, what in Merlin's sweaty socks was that? How'd you turn a matchstick into a whole dagger?"

Hermione, ever the walking encyclopedia, was already deep in thought. "That wasn't a normal transfiguration. The spell was supposed to turn the matchstick into a needle, not... a weapon." She squinted at him. "That's not how magic works."

She crossed her arms and sighed. "Transfiguration follows strict magical laws, Zephyr. It changes an object's form, but not its core properties unless done intentionally. The process is precise and controlled you can't just get a completely different outcome like that! When we perform a spell like Matchstick to Needle, we're following a set rule. The result should always be the same."

Ron blinked. "But Zephyr just did it, though."

Harry, still staring at Zephyr like he had grown a second head, finally spoke. "That was... kind of insane. I mean, I know magic can be unpredictable sometimes, but turning a matchstick into a dagger? That's something else."

Hermione groaned. "That's exactly the problem! Intent matters in magic, sure, but not that much. Magic doesn't just decide to change on its own unless you're unknowingly channeling something far greater. Like an external force interfering... or, I don't know, a wand with hidden properties."

Zephyr smirked, spinning the dagger between his fingers before tucking it away. "Well, maybe magic just likes me better."

Internally, though, he was reeling. He hadn't forced that spell to work like that his wand had done it on its own. The dagger had felt right in his hand, like his magic had ignored the rules and just made whatever it thought was cooler.

Which meant... he needed answers.

Zephyr stopped in the middle of the hallway, dramatically raising a hand to the ceiling. "Alright, SYSTEM! Show me the what's new!"

Ding! A glowing blue holographic interface appeared in front of him, floating mid-air like an RPG menu.

[System Status – Host: Zephyr Rid (a.k.a. The Forbidden Patch Notes)]

Level: 11 (Shadow Prodigy)

Magic Status: "Unstable Wizardry Detected – Adapting to Host's Unique Energy."

System Analysis: "Your magic does not conform to standard wizarding laws. Expected outcome: Chaos or Greatness (or both)."

Skills:

Shadow Step – Move instantly through short distances using shadows.Shadow Bind – Immobilize enemies by using their own shadows.Shadow Pulse – Release a wave of energy from the shadows.Phase Shift – Briefly become intangible, bypassing physical barriers.

New Skill Unlocked!

Adaptive Transfiguration – Unlike normal wizards, Zephyr's magic doesn't simply alter objects it rewrites them.Instead of just turning a matchstick into a needle, he can force an entire transformation beyond textbook limitations.Downside: He has zero control over how weird it might get.

Zephyr's eyes gleamed. "Oh, this is gonna be fun."

Ron, Hermione, and Harry, however, just stared at him.

Ron: "Mate… what in Merlin's unwashed robes are you doing?"

Harry: "Are you… talking to the air?"

Zephyr waved them off. "Nah, nah, I'm just checking my patch notes."

Ron, whispering to Harry: "He's gone bonkers, hasn't he?"

Harry, still watching Zephyr cautiously: "I dunno... but if he starts levitating, I'm leaving."

Hermione: "I think so."

Zephyr, ever the responsible scholar (read: absolute menace), decided immediate testing was necessary.

He grabbed a quill and focused. This should be simple enough. Just turn it into a spoon.

Expected result: A spoon.

Actual result: A spoon with tiny feet that immediately sprinted away like it owed someone money.

Ron jumped back. "OI! IT'S ALIVE!"

Harry, stepping forward cautiously, stared at the scurrying spoon. "That's... not normal, right? Like, even for magic?"

Hermione's jaw dropped. "That That shouldn't be happening!"

Zephyr cackled. "I HAVE TRANSCENDED THE LAWS OF MAGIC."

Harry turned to Hermione. "You sure he didn't just discover a whole new branch of Transfiguration?"

Hermione groaned. "That's not how magic works!"

Alright, round two. He picked up a rock. Transfigure into a teacup.

Expected result: A teacup.

Actual result: A teacup that whispered ancient Latin curses.

Ron panicked. "BURN IT! BURN IT!"

Harry leaned in slightly, then immediately leaned back. "Yeah, I don't speak Latin, but I'm pretty sure that's not good."

Zephyr hummed. "My magic doesn't just transfigure it overwrites reality."

Hermione stepped back, eyeing him carefully. "Zephyr… are you even a normal wizard?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I feel like I should be the least normal one here, but somehow you're winning."

Zephyr grinned. "Nope. And I love that for me."

Just as Zephyr was admiring his masterpiece, a gentle cough echoed behind them.

Zephyr froze.

His stomach twisted not just because he had been caught, but because this was Albus Dumbledore. His father's old professor. His father's old enemy. The man who had spent years standing against Voldemort, who had fought and strategized against him time and time again, the one wizard word called Light Lord. And now, here Zephyr was, standing in front of the legendary wizard while casually breaking the laws of Transfiguration.

Dumbledore stood there, eyes twinkling like a man who had seen some things interesting and speak up.

"Ah, Mr. Rid," Dumbledore said, smiling. "Expanding the boundaries of magical education, I see?"

Zephyr, sweating: "Uh. Yes?"

Dumbledore glanced at the scurrying spoon, the whispering teacup, and then back to Zephyr. "Fascinating. But do try to refrain from creating sentient silverware during breakfast hours it upsets the forks."

Zephyr blinked. "...Noted."

Then, Dumbledore dropped a casual nuke of wisdom.

"Magic, Mr. Rid, is much like a story it is not just about rules, but about the one who writes them."

Zephyr paused. That actually made sense. His magic wasn't following rules it was making its own. But something about the way Dumbledore said it made him uneasy. Did he suspect something? Did he know? Wait wasn't Dumbledore a Legilimens?

"Oh, crap. What if he was reading my mind right now? What if all my internal screaming was just being broadcast live like an intrusive podcast straight into Dumbledore's head?!"

H had spent my whole life hiding from the legacy attached to his bloodline, and yet, standing here now, under Dumbledore's gaze, he felt like he was being evaluated like the old wizard was waiting for him to slip up. Maybe if he just thought about something ridiculous, it would throw Dumbledore off. Pineapples. Dancing pineapples. Voldemort in a tutu. Yes. That should do it.

No, no this wasn't enough. He needed Occlumency immediately. He couldn't have Dumbledore casually flipping through his brain like it was the morning newspaper. What if he accidentally thought about something worse? Like, what if he actually respected Voldemort's fashion choices? No, stop. Think about blank spaces. Empty thoughts. Oh no, now he was just thinking about thinking!

Zephyr, still sweating, forced a laugh. "Wait, uh hypothetically speaking, if someone was reading my mind, they wouldn't, like... hold it against me if I panicked and imagined them in a ridiculous outfit, right?" He coughed. "Totally unrelated question."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled mischievously. "That would depend entirely on the outfit, I suppose."

Zephyr nearly choked on his own breath. No. No way. He had to be bluffing! Right?!

Desperate to recover, Zephyr scrambled to change the subject. "So you're saying I'm hacking the magic system?" he asked, grinning though it looked a little forced now.

Dumbledore chuckled. "No, I don't know what hacking mean but, you are someohow… rewriting it."

Zephyr: "What".

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?! Why did he say it like that? Was it a compliment? A warning? A prophecy? Was he about to be recruited as the main character of some divine cosmic struggle? Or worse was Dumbledore just trolling him for fun?!

As Dumbledore turned to leave, his robe flowing effortlessly behind him, he took a few steps before pausing. He cast one final glance back at the group, his gaze lingering on Zephyr longer than necessary. His expression, usually lighthearted and unreadable, shifted into something more contemplative.

Under his breath, barely audible, he muttered to himself, "That boy... he reminds me of him."

His eyes flickered with something unreadable before he shook his head and continued walking. "I should have read deeper from the beginning... how interesting."

That night, as Zephyr lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his wand pulsed again.

A new System notification appeared.

[New Quest: The Wand's Whisper]

Objective: Investigate the origins of your wand and its connection to your magic.

Reward: ???

Zephyr squinted at his wand.

"You got something to say, buddy? Spill it."

The wand pulsed.

Zephyr groaned. "Great. My own weapon is keeping secrets from me. Love that for me."

TO BE CONTINUED...

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