Transfiguration Class

Having escaped the cold, oppressive Potions Class dungeon, the Ravenclaw students practically fled toward their next classroom—the Transfiguration Class. Sunlight streamed in through the high windows, making the atmosphere a little less stifling. Incidentally, they were sharing this class with Gryffindor.

When Silas and his classmates entered the classroom, they found no one at the lectern. There was only a tabby cat, sitting elegantly on one corner of the desk, its tail tip swaying gently as its sharp eyes scrutinized every student who entered.

"Professor McGonagall isn't here yet?" a first-year muttered softly.

"Maybe something held her up?"

When Silas saw the cat on the lectern, he paused for a moment, the corner of his mouth curling into a barely noticeable, mischievous smile. Of course he knew this was Professor McGonagall's Animagus form. It was one of Hogwarts' "traditional opening acts" for new students.

But he was determined to do the opposite.

While the other students cautiously found seats, staring at the extraordinary cat with curiosity and nervousness, Silas walked straight up to the lectern. Before everyone's astonished eyes, he reached out and, completely naturally—almost affectionately—gently stroked the tabby cat's head. Then, in a deliberately innocent tone, he asked:

"Huh? Where's Professor McGonagall? Is she not here yet? Little kitty, do you know where Professor McGonagall went?"

The tabby cat's body visibly stiffened. Its eyes widened behind its glasses, as if it could not believe someone dared do that. Silas thought for a moment, then muttered to himself, "She won't hiss and scratch me, will she?"

Just then, the Weasley twins happened to pass the classroom door on their way to another class. When Fred Weasley saw this, he abruptly stopped, grabbed George, pointed at Silas, and lowered his voice, his tone full of amazement and schadenfreude.

"George! Look! Merlin's stockings! I think I've just seen someone with more nerve than us!"

George's eyes widened as well. Clicking his tongue in wonder, he said, "He actually dared to pet Professor McGonagall's head! Why wasn't he sorted into Gryffindor?!"

Fred stroked his chin with an expression that said, "I get it now." "Maybe ignorance really is fearlessness? He probably doesn't know this is Professor McGonagall's traditional opening?"

As the twins watched the show and the other students in the classroom sucked in sharp breaths, a dazzling flash of light burst from the tabby cat on the lectern. The next second, Professor McGonagall stood there, looking sterner than ever, with even a trace of offended irritation. She adjusted her square glasses, her piercing gaze locking onto Silas, who had not yet fully pulled back his hand.

"Mr. Kirill," Professor McGonagall said, her voice colder and harsher than usual, "I do not believe that after 'living' at Hogwarts for four years, you would be unaware of this little 'tradition' of mine."

Her tone clearly said, "Don't play dumb with me."

Caught red-handed, Silas showed no trace of panic. He blinked and put on an utterly innocent, almost dopey smile, trying to charm his way out of it.

"Hehe~"

That little "hehe," paired with his harmless face, was devastatingly effective. Professor McGonagall's prepared reprimand caught in her throat, and she nearly broke character. She took a deep breath and forcibly maintained her stern expression.

Silas, meanwhile, rapidly calculated in his head. Oh no, I've really annoyed the old lady... During the practical lesson, should I turn the match into a little yellow rubber duck or something to cheer her up and make amends?

Professor McGonagall looked at Silas's expression, which practically said, "I know I was wrong, but I'll do it again next time," and finally just snorted heavily. She tapped the desk with her wand, drawing everyone's attention.

"Return to your seat, Mr. Kirill. Today, we will learn the first foundation of Transfiguration—turning a match into a needle. I hope certain people will use their 'cleverness' for proper purposes, rather than these pointless... little tricks."

Her gaze swept meaningfully over Silas.

After assigning the task of turning matches into needles, Professor McGonagall began walking around the classroom, guiding the students. Most of the first-years were still sweating over their matches, waving their wands and muttering who knew what, making the matches tremble slightly—they had not yet learned the proper Transfiguration spell—or accomplishing nothing at all.

Hermione Granger was one of the few students making smooth progress. One end of her match had begun to sharpen and gleam with a metallic sheen, though it was still far from perfect. She was completely focused, her little face slightly flushed from concentration.

Professor McGonagall came to Silas's desk. His match was still lying untouched on the table, his wand set aside, while he rested his cheek on one hand and watched the "performances" of the students beside him in boredom.

"Mr. Kirill," Professor McGonagall asked, her tone holding a trace of severity and confusion, "have you not started yet? Or have you encountered some difficulty?"

Silas looked up with a smile that said, "I was waiting for you," and replied easily, "I was waiting for you to come inspect it, Professor."

As he spoke, he picked up his wand and gave the utterly ordinary match a seemingly casual flick of his wrist, without chanting any spell.

A soft light flashed. The match on the desk vanished, replaced by a plump, bright-yellow little rubber duck!

"Look!" Silas proudly picked up the little duck and squeezed it hard, as if showing it off.

Squeak—!

A crisp, loud, childlike duck sound suddenly rang out through the quiet classroom!

Every student nearby was drawn by the sound and looked over in surprise. Hermione stopped what she was doing as well, staring dumbfoundedly at the little duck in Silas's hand.

Professor McGonagall: "..."

The corner of her mouth seemed to twitch uncontrollably, but deep in her eyes flashed a fleeting, nearly imperceptible hint of surprise and... perhaps a touch of helpless amusement? This child always found the most unexpected ways to display his abilities.

Silas acted as though he had not noticed Professor McGonagall's subtle expression and continued his "performance." He pointed his wand at the little duck again.

Light flashed once more. The little duck disappeared, and in its place lay a gleaming silver needle, sharp at the point and smooth along the shaft. But unlike Hermione's needle, which had merely become pointed, Silas's needle had been intricately transformed around the eye into a ring of elaborate, elegant golden floral patterns in a Victorian style. It looked both practical and like a work of art.

"I'm amazing." Silas picked up the engraved needle, admired it in the light, and praised himself without the slightest modesty.

Professor McGonagall examined the needle carefully, then looked at Silas's face, which was practically screaming, "Praise me." She fell silent for several seconds, seemingly weighing whether to criticize his showboating or praise his exceptional Transfiguration skill. In the end, the stern frost on her face seemed to melt somewhat. She gave a slight nod and evaluated him in a much gentler tone than before.

"Mm... the transformation process was smooth, the form is stable, and the details... are very creative. Very good, Mr. Kirill."

There was no reproach left in her voice. Clearly, Silas's precise and imaginative Transfiguration had successfully earned him temporary forgiveness for the "disrespectful" acts of petting her head and making a duck squeak.

Silas caught the change in Professor McGonagall's tone and breathed a sigh of relief inwardly. Turning his head, he saw Hermione beside him looking at him—and the engraved needle—with eyes full of admiration and longing. In a wonderful mood, he reached out and patted Hermione on the shoulder, speaking like a senior encouraging a junior.

"Keep it up, Granger! You can do it too!"

The pat snapped Hermione out of it. Her face instantly lit up with an intense thirst for knowledge. She grabbed Silas's arm and urgently whispered, "My God! Silas! How did you do that? It turned into a duck in an instant, then into such an exquisite needle! Teach me! Please teach me!"

Silas looked into Hermione's sparkling eyes, filled with a hunger for knowledge, smiled, and readily agreed. "All right! The principle is actually simple. The key is to think through every detail of what you want to transform it into..."

Lowering his voice, he began explaining some Transfiguration tricks and approaches to Hermione, completely ignoring the other students around them who were still struggling with their matches. Professor McGonagall watched the two huddled together in discussion and shook her head, but she did not stop them. Instead, a faint, gratified smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. Perhaps having this exceptionally gifted yet unruly student spur on another diligent and eager learner was not such a bad thing.