Transfiguration

Before long, the remaining Slytherin students left the long table, departing in twos and threes, all expressing their admiration for and concern about Tom.

"Don't worry. Professor Slughorn likes Tom best, and besides, nothing happened, did it?" Nelson stood up, put the cutlery he had brought into the small box he carried with him, and offered reassurance.

He sidestepped Avery, who was blocking the doorway, and patted him on the shoulder.

Passing through the dining hall corridor, Nelson pulled a desperately struggling Slip of Paper folded into the shape of a cat's head from his pocket. He caught the Slip of Paper as it tried to escape, entered an unlocked classroom nearby, and pinned it to a desk with his left hand.

"Incarcerous." Nelson pulled his Wand from his other pocket. A red-glowing rope shot from its tip, binding the little cat head tightly.

"This knot has way too much going on," he muttered speechlessly, raising his Wand again toward the bound cat head. "Finite Incantatem!"

The cat head gradually stopped struggling, unfolded itself, and slowly became a Slip of Paper lying flat on the desk. Nelson picked it up and saw elegant handwriting on it: "Turn it into a piece of parchment."

Nelson placed the Slip of Paper on the desk and raised his Wand, studying it carefully. A Gryffindor student had passed this Slip of Paper to Nal at the dining table just now. Before opening it, he had been somewhat puzzled, thinking it might be a prank from one of those little lions. But now that he saw its contents, he understood. The special tutoring Dumbledore had arranged for him was in place.

Transfiguration differed from other spells, where casting a different incantation produced a specific effect. It had no fixed incantation; its entire essence was simply "turn one thing into another." The difficulty of the transformation imposed different demands on the caster's magical power. For example, a first-year student could turn a matchstick into a needle after studying, but turning an adult into an animal would require extraordinarily powerful magic. But the purpose of studying Transfiguration was not merely to keep making transformed objects bigger. The deeper one went into Transfiguration, the more one discovered the limitless power of this branch of magic. It concerned not only the size of the transformed object, but also its duration, its precision, and its special magical properties...

All that explanation was mainly to make one point: although Nelson's Transfiguration was outstanding among first-year students, he was only somewhat better than classmates still transforming matchsticks. He had never completed such an advanced transformation—turning a small Slip of Paper only a few centimetres long into a standard-sized piece of parchment. This was clearly not part of first-year Transfiguration.

"Let's see, what should I do with you..." Nelson held his Wand high and bent down toward the Slip of Paper. It seemed a little frightened. If the spell on it had not already been dispelled, it might have rolled itself back into a cat head and run away.

Nelson lowered his Wand and pointed it at the Slip of Paper. Imagining a piece of parchment, he flicked his Wand quickly. When the smoke cleared, a miniature piece of parchment the size of the Slip of Paper lay on the desk, and the writing on it was completely illegible.

"What a pity." Nelson muttered as he cast Reparo, turning the tiny parchment back into a Slip of Paper, then began pondering again.

Before long, he began picturing a standard-sized piece of parchment in his mind, imagining it from its upper-left corner to its lower-right. Once he had constructed a complete piece of parchment in his mind, he flicked his Wand at the Slip of Paper—and immediately felt drained. He collapsed into a chair.

"Turning a Slip of Paper into parchment is not fundamentally different from turning a matchstick into a needle. Only their size changes; they are still things without magic or life." A somewhat shrill male voice came from behind Nelson. He turned and saw a short boy enter the classroom, his robes trimmed with blue silk. A lavish badge bearing the letter P was pinned to his chest.

"Senior Flitwick." Nelson recognized him. He was Ravenclaw's prefect, hailed as Ravenclaw's finest student. His accomplishments in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts far surpassed those of ordinary Hogwarts graduates, even exceeding those of many experienced adult Wizards. At Hogwarts' Duelling Club, he was the undisputed and unshakable champion. It was said that in the year he enrolled, the Sorting Hat had hesitated for several minutes between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor when deciding the placements of two new students. In the end, it placed him in Ravenclaw, while the other was now Gryffindor's prefect—Minerva McGonagall.

"Just call me Filius, Nelson." Flitwick walked to Nelson's side and climbed onto a chair with some difficulty—he was only one metre and seven centimetres tall. Yet even such a stature could not conceal his talent. Rather, it was precisely because he possessed a body so unlike that of ordinary people that his magical attainments seemed all the more remarkable.

"When transforming something that is neither a magical creation nor a living being, you only need to consider its size and material. There is no need to think too precisely or expend too much magic." Flitwick pointed his Wand at the teacher's desk. "Because the target of Transfiguration is also an ordinary object that exists in nature." With a wave of Flitwick's Wand, the teacher's desk became a wooden pigeon sculpture the size of an ordinary pigeon.

"Magic is not merely a chaotic force that needs controlling." As Nelson listened to Flitwick, he raised his Wand again and pointed it at the Slip of Paper. Watching Nelson's movements, Flitwick continued, "Often, as long as you guide it properly and complete the most important task, magic will help you finish the trivial, unimportant details."

"If you want to make a piece of parchment, you only need to think about its material and size. There is no need to construct every inch of the paper... because it is still only an ordinary piece of parchment... But when the object or purpose of the transformation is a magical item, a living creature, or even a magical creature, then you need to put in more thought and effort." Changing tack, he jumped down from the chair, walked to the platform, and tapped the pigeon sculpture's head with his Wand. It turned into a real pigeon, then immediately began circling above Flitwick's head. Nelson swung down his Wand as well, and the Slip of Paper slowly stretched and transformed. "That is why Transfiguration is sometimes not as rigorous as other spells."

Flitwick stood beneath the pigeon with a small, smug air. Nelson was about to praise him when the pigeon seized its chance and flew out through the open classroom door.

"Oh, the teacher's desk flew away." Flitwick picked up the rope Nelson had created with the binding spell and tossed it onto the platform. "This rope was created by your spell, so even though it is only a rope, I still need to expend quite a bit of effort to transform it. My magic is already running a little low... so at times like this, you need to make choices."

"What is the most important part of the final result of our Transfiguration?" Flitwick pointed his Wand at the rope. "I am going to make a teacher's desk now. The most important thing about a teacher's desk is its function, so it needs the shape, size, and sturdiness of a desk..." A teacher's desk gradually took shape on the platform, no different from the one that had just flown away.

"See? This teacher's desk functions exactly the same. But..." He pulled open one of its drawers, rummaged around inside for a while, and pinched out the end of a thread. "But to save magic, it is essentially still a rope."

"Thank you, Filius." Nelson picked up the now-transformed parchment from the desk and thanked him sincerely.

"You're welcome." Flitwick nodded at the parchment in Nelson's hand. "I am not particularly skilled at Transfiguration, but even I can tell you have great talent for it. Even with someone explaining it to me, I was already in my second year when I first completed this kind of transformation." Flitwick walked toward the door and looked with satisfaction at Nelson beside him, who seemed to have experienced a sudden enlightenment. Then, somewhat bashfully, he spread his hands. "I saw your homework in Professor Sakes's office. I think you ought to be in Ravenclaw, don't you? If you have any insights or questions about Charms, you can always come discuss them with me. Once you reach second year, you can also join the school's Duelling Club."

"I need to go find the teacher's desk. I hope it did not fly too far, or when Monday comes..." Standing in the doorway, Flitwick stepped back, looked up at the classroom sign, and said brightly, "Fortunately, I don't take Arithmancy. See you, Nelson!"

With that, he left the classroom, skipping away without looking back.

"See you, Senior Filius." Holding the parchment, Nelson stood in the corridor and waved at Flitwick. His skipping figure seemed even more cheerful.

When he arrived by the Black Lake, Nelson saw a tabby cat with eye-like markings around its eyes perched on a smooth tree stump over a metre tall. A Broomstick leaned against the stump, while a group of cats of all breeds sat below it as though attending a meeting. Nelson noticed that his own stray British Shorthair, with a Question Mark drawn on its face, was crouched beneath the stump, constantly jumping to reach the top and slipping back down. He cast it a disdainful look as though it were an idiot. The tabby atop the stump watched Question Mark with the same expression Nelson wore, and its gaze and movements were remarkably intelligent.

"Nelson Williams: Ten in the morning. I will wait for you at the tree stump by the Black Lake. —Minerva McGonagall"

Nelson took out the parchment and confirmed its contents.

"Hello, Senior." Nelson walked up to the stump and greeted the tabby cat. Sensing his footsteps, the cats gathered beneath the stump all scattered away. Only Question Mark glared at him resentfully for interrupting its game.

The tabby had noticed Nelson long ago. The instant he spoke, it leapt high from the stump. With a slight distortion in the air and sunlight, a girl in robes landed nimbly beside Nelson.

Nelson studied the girl, and she studied him as well. Once she had steadied herself on the ground, she gave a slight nod. Though Minerva McGonagall was petite, she held her head high and her back straight as she looked Nelson directly in the eye. Her school robes sat remarkably crisply on her, without any unnecessary adornments. Only an old silver cross necklace with worn-smooth patterns hung at her neck. She had smooth golden hair falling down her back, gently rippling in the lake breeze like ripples on the surface of the Black Lake.

"Hello, Nelson. Good. You are not late."