"A perfect transfiguration," Professor McGonagall conceded, her lips thinning into a line so fine it was almost invisible as she examined the button. "And... unapologetically Slytherin in its style."
Sean knew precisely what she meant. Had he produced a golden button set with a brilliant red ruby, he suspected her praise would have been far warmer, her expression less severe. But a Slytherin advertising Gryffindor colors was a quick way to earn the wrong kind of attention in the dungeons. It was a matter of survival.
Professor McGonagall picked up the small, silver button, turning it over between her long, nimble fingers. The craftsmanship was flawless; she could even make out the faint, coiled serpent etched around its edge, a subtle but defiant detail.
"Ten points to Slytherin."
She's fair, Sean thought, a flicker of genuine respect cutting through his usual cynicism. Professor Snape could learn a thing or two from her about impartiality. It was a fleeting, private thought—a sign of respect for a formidable witch, he told himself, and definitely not cowardice.
"Thank you, Professor McGonagall."
"You've earned them, Mr. Bulstrode," she said, her sharp, intelligent eyes fixing on him. "But let's see if you can take it further. Can you continue to transfigure this button?"
Sean was momentarily taken aback, but he recovered quickly, his mind already racing. "Of course, Professor. What would you like me to transfigure it into?"
She placed the button back into his hand, its metal cool against his skin. "First, turn it into a playing card."
"As you wish, Professor."
Sean set the button on his desk and, with a light, almost casual tap of his wand, sent it spinning. The silver gleam blurred, flattened, and reshaped itself, landing on the dark wood of the desk as a perfect King of Spades—only the king depicted was a young wizard with a familiar white snake coiled around his arm.
"A snake," McGonagall noted, her expression unreadable. She gestured for him to continue.
With a graceful wave of his wand, Sean brought the card to life. It fluttered into the air, dancing on an invisible current before it began to stretch and elongate, the paper melting into shimmering, pearlescent scales. A moment later, a small, silver-white snake dropped into his outstretched hand, winding itself around his fingers. Blaise, sitting beside him, stared in stunned silence; the transfigured creature was a perfect, miniature replica of Kulkan.
A rare, almost imperceptible smile touched Professor McGonagall's lips, a fleeting expression of pure academic approval. "Very good, Mr. Bulstrode. Now, for the final step. I want you to transform it into a trunk. Make it as magnificent as you are able and as large as you can manage. Do your best."
Sean knew at once that this was the true test.
He stood slowly, his focus narrowing, the rest of the classroom fading into the background. He pointed his wand at the tiny snake in his palm. With a deliberate arc of his right arm, he sent the snake flying to the floor beside his desk. The moment it touched the stone, its body dissolved into a spinning, silver-green vortex of light. It began to expand—fist-sized, then head-sized. A look of intense concentration settled on Sean's face, the hand holding his wand trembling slightly with the effort.
He understood the escalating difficulty of the task. He was being tested not just on form but on mass and complexity. The hierarchy of Transfiguration was a steep and treacherous mountain to climb. Inanimate to inanimate was the base camp. Living to inanimate, which he had just done, was the first ascent. But this—size manipulation—was the bridge to the higher, more dangerous peaks. He knew that to turn a pebble into a mouse was simple, but to turn it into a tiger required immense power and control. Beyond that lay the true pinnacles of the art: living-to-living transfiguration, like an Animagus transformation, and the near-mythical inanimate-to-living, where one imbued an object with sentience, as McGonagall herself had done when she awakened the statues of Hogwarts.
The silvery-green vortex spun faster, expanding under his will. He pushed harder, beads of sweat forming on his brow as he poured his magic into the spell. He knew a simple Enlarging Charm would be cheating; this was a test of pure transfiguration skill. The vortex shuddered and grew, reaching the size of a large pumpkin before it finally solidified, collapsing into the form of a heavy, silver-white trunk, its surface intricately inlaid with swirling patterns of emerald.
Professor McGonagall looked from the trunk to Sean, her stern face softened by a clear, undeniable look of satisfaction. A student who had only just begun his second year, demonstrating this level of control... it was a rarity she had seldom seen in her long career. He was more than qualified.
"A very good transfiguration, Mr. Bulstrode. For your age, it can be considered perfect." She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a near-whisper, meant only for him. "Come and see me after class. I have something I wish to discuss with you."
She gave him a final, appraising nod before turning to inspect the work of the other students. But after Sean's display, it was a foregone conclusion; no one else would be earning extra points today.
With a quiet sigh of relief, Sean transfigured the trunk back into a beetle. The poor creature looked exhausted after its series of transformations, and he gently placed it back in its box to recover. He then turned to Blaise, who was still struggling to turn his own beetle into a lopsided, wobbly button, and began to offer some guidance. He already knew what the meeting with McGonagall was about. At the end of last term, she had urged him to practice. Today had been the assessment, and he had passed with flying colors. Now, it seemed, he was about to receive his invitation.
(End of Chapter)
***
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