Transfiguration Class

Escaping the gloomy, oppressive underground classroom of Potions, the Ravenclaw students practically fled toward their next class—Transfiguration. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, slightly lightening the mood. Incidentally, this class was shared with Gryffindor.

As Silas and his classmates entered the classroom, they found the podium empty, save for a tabby cat squatting elegantly on one corner of the desk, its tail tip swaying gently, its sharp eyes scrutinizing every student entering.

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

"Maybe something delayed her?"

Seeing the cat on the podium, Silas paused, a barely perceptible, slightly mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He knew, of course, that this was Professor McGonagall's Animagus form. It was one of Hogwarts' "traditional opening programs" for new students.

But he was determined to do the opposite.

While other students cautiously found their seats, staring at the extraordinary cat with curiosity and nervousness, Silas walked directly to the front of the podium. Under everyone's astonished gaze, he reached out his hand, very naturally, even affectionately, and gently stroked the tabby cat's head. He then asked in a feigned innocent tone:

"Huh? Where's Professor McGonagall? Isn't she here yet? Little cat, do you know where Professor McGonagall went?"

The tabby cat's body visibly stiffened. Its cat eyes behind its spectacles widened, seemingly unable to believe someone dared to do that. Silas thought for a moment, then muttered to himself, "She's not going to hiss and scratch me, is she?"

Just then, the Weasley twins, on their way to another class, happened to pass the classroom door. Fred Weasley saw the scene, stopped abruptly, grabbed George, pointed at Silas, and whispered in a tone full of amazement and schadenfreude:

"George! Look! Merlin's stockings! I think I've found someone bolder than us!"

George's eyes widened too, and he clicked his tongue in wonder. "He actually dared to pat Professor McGonagall's head! Why wasn't he sorted into Gryffindor?!"

Fred stroked his chin, wearing a "I get it now" expression. "Perhaps ignorance is bliss? He probably doesn't know this is Professor McGonagall's traditional opening?"

As the twins watched the spectacle and the other students in the classroom gasped, a dazzling light flashed from the tabby cat on the podium. The next second, Professor McGonagall stood on the podium, her expression more serious than ever, even tinged with annoyance at being offended. She adjusted her square spectacles, her sharp gaze fixed on Silas, who hadn't managed to completely retract his hand.

"Mr. Kirill," Professor McGonagall's voice was colder and sterner than usual, "I find it hard to believe that you, who have 'lived' at Hogwarts for four years, would not know about this little 'tradition' of mine."

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

Caught red-handed, Silas showed no panic on his face. He blinked, putting on an extremely innocent, even slightly goofy smile, trying to charm his way out of it:

"Heh~"

This "Heh~," coupled with his harmless face, was incredibly effective, causing Professor McGonagall's well-prepared stern reprimand to get stuck in her throat, almost making her break character. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to maintain her stern demeanor.

Silas, meanwhile, was frantically calculating: It's over, I've angered the old lady... Should I turn a match into a little rubber ducky during the practical session later to cheer her up and make amends?

Professor McGonagall looked at Silas's "I know I was wrong, but I'll do it again" expression. In the end, she merely snorted heavily and tapped the desk with her wand, drawing everyone's attention.

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

Her gaze swept over Silas meaningfully.

After assigning the task of turning a match into a needle, Professor McGonagall began to patrol the classroom, guiding the students. Most first-years were still sweating profusely, waving their wands at matches and muttering incantations, causing the matches to tremble slightly (they hadn't learned the correct Transfiguration spells yet), or simply having no reaction at all.

Hermione Granger was one of the few students making good progress. One end of her match had already begun to sharpen, showing a metallic sheen, though it wasn't perfect yet. She was completely focused, her small face slightly flushed with concentration.

Professor McGonagall walked over to Silas's desk. His match lay untouched on the table, his wand beside it. He was resting his chin on his hand, watching his classmates' "performances" with boredom.

"Mr. Kirill," Professor McGonagall's tone carried a hint of sternness and confusion, "haven't you started yet? Or are you encountering some difficulty?"

Silas looked up, a "I've been waiting for you" smile on his face, and said casually, "Wasn't I waiting for you to come and check, Professor?"

As he spoke, he picked up his wand, pointed it at the unremarkable match, and flicked his wrist casually, without uttering any incantation.

A soft light flashed. The match on the table disappeared, replaced by a plump, bright yellow rubber ducky!

"Look!" Silas proudly picked up the ducky and squeezed it hard as if to show off.

"Quack—!"

A clear, loud, childish quack echoed abruptly in the quiet classroom!

All the surrounding students were drawn by the sound, looking over in surprise. Hermione also stopped her actions, staring at the rubber ducky in Silas's hand, dumbfounded.

Professor McGonagall: "..."

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

As if not noticing Professor McGonagall's subtle expression, Silas continued his "performance." He pointed his wand at the rubber ducky again.

Another flash of light, and the ducky vanished. On the table appeared a gleaming silver needle, its point sharp and its body smooth. However, unlike Hermione's needle, which was merely sharpened, Silas's needle had a cleverly transformed, intricate, and elegant golden floral pattern around the eye, reminiscent of Victorian style. It looked both practical and like a work of art.

"I'm so good," Silas picked up the engraved needle, admiring it in the light, and praised himself without modesty.

Professor McGonagall examined the needle carefully, then looked at Silas's face, which was full of "Praise me." She was silent for a few seconds, seemingly weighing whether to criticize his showboating or praise his superb Transfiguration skills. Finally, the frosty sternness on her face seemed to melt slightly. She nodded slightly and commented in a much gentler tone than before:

"Well... the Transfiguration process was smooth, the form stable, and the details... very creative. Very good, Mr. Kirill."

Her tone no longer carried any blame. Clearly, Silas's precise and imaginative Transfiguration had succeeded in making her temporarily forgive his "disrespectful" actions of touching her head and making the duck quack.

Silas caught the change in Professor McGonagall's tone and breathed a sigh of relief. He turned his head and saw Hermione beside him looking at him (and the engraved needle) with eyes full of adoration and longing. In great spirits, he patted Hermione's shoulder and said in a tone of an elder encouraging a junior:

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

Startled by his pat, Hermione snapped back to attention, her face instantly erupting with intense curiosity. She grabbed Silas's arm and eagerly whispered, "My goodness! Silas! How did you do that? You turned it into a duck in an instant, and then into such an exquisite needle! Teach me! Please teach me!"

Silas looked at Hermione's sparkling eyes, full of a thirst for knowledge, smiled, and readily agreed, "Alright! The principle is actually very simple. The key is to clearly imagine every detail of the object you want to transform..."

He lowered his voice and began to explain some small tricks and ideas for Transfiguration to Hermione, completely ignoring the other students around them who were still struggling with their matches. Professor McGonagall watched them huddle together discussing, shook her head, but did not stop them. Instead, a very faint, gratified smile curved her lips. Perhaps, having this exceptionally talented but unruly student inspire another diligent and studious one wasn't a bad thing.