Chapter 61: Lessons Beyond the Classroom

The Transfiguration Club session officially began once Professor McGonagall arrived. The room instantly fell silent, every student straightening up in their seat—new or old.

Professor McGonagall's sharp eyes swept over the group, lingering briefly on Harry with something close to approval before she spoke. "Transfiguration," she began, "is among the most complex and dangerous branches of magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Mastery requires precision, focus, and a deep understanding of the fundamental nature of objects."

She waved her wand, and a table at the front of the room was suddenly covered with a pile of various odd materials—twigs, scraps of cloth, broken bits of glass. "Today," she continued, "you will work in pairs to transfigure these materials into functional, complete objects. Anything you like—but they must be useful, and the transformation must be stable."

The students immediately got to work. Harry found himself paired with Penelope Clearwater again. After some brainstorming, they decided to attempt transfiguring the scraps into a small bookshelf.

As they worked, Harry noticed a few magazines scattered around the sides of the room. Curiosity piqued, he picked one up during a small break.

It was titled Transfiguration Today—a monthly magazine filled with articles on cutting-edge transfiguration techniques, interviews with master transfigurists, and various magical experiments.

Harry was immediately engrossed. One article described experimental theories about animagus transformations—how the state of the mind could subtly influence the animal form. Another discussed advancements in elemental transfiguration, detailing why food creation remained impossible.

Knowledge, Harry thought with satisfaction, real, practical knowledge. He made a mental note to subscribe to the magazine for regular issues. Anything that could give him even a slight edge was worth it.

After the practical session, Professor McGonagall called for attention again.

"As some of you may already know," she said, voice softer now, "I am an Animagus—officially registered, of course."

The older students nodded knowingly; the younger ones, including Harry, listened raptly.

"It took me years of effort," McGonagall admitted, "and not a few dangerous mistakes, before I succeeded in the transformation you sometimes see. One lesson I wish to impart is this: Transfiguration is not just about magic—it is about understanding. You must understand not only the object you change but also yourself. Your intent matters. Your will shapes the magic."

She let that sink in, then added with a rare, faint smile, "And sometimes... it requires a stubborn refusal to give up."

The room was quiet for a moment, students absorbing her words.

Harry felt something shift within him—a deeper respect for the craft he had already admired. Transfiguration was not just a spell; it was an art, a negotiation with reality itself.

As the club session wrapped up, Professor McGonagall handed out copies of select articles from Transfiguration Today and encouraged the students to practice small exercises during their free time.

Harry tucked his copy carefully into his pouch, his mind already buzzing with ideas for future experiments.

Tonight, he thought with excitement, he would definitely be busy.