A Not-So-Polite Meeting

When there was a knock at his door, Andrew was poring over a book with a headache.

Teaching himself Latin while lacking suitable textbooks was a double agony enough to make anyone weep, but it was necessary—even if he was learning a dead language, it was still useful.

"I'll be right there," he said, capping his pen as he got up to open the door. He habitually kept his door locked, and that had been permitted.

"Good morning, Mrs. Camille," he said, looking at the two people outside and ushering them in. "And this is?"

"This is Professor McGonagall. She's here to speak with you about attending their school, a school called Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?"

Andrew froze for a moment. The name was extraordinarily familiar.

"Yes, Hogwarts." Professor McGonagall nodded, then looked at Mrs. Camille, who showed no intention of leaving. "Excuse me, Mrs. Camille, but could I speak with him alone for a moment?"

And in that brief gap, Andrew finally made the connection—what Hogwarts was.

A magic school, one specifically for wizards. He had even played a game called Hogwarts Legacy. To be honest, it had been pretty good.

As for anything more, he had only seen brief plot summaries in movie recaps. He had considered appreciating the original novels a few times, but he had never been able to spare enough time. It couldn't be helped; the original story was far too long, and compared to novels from the webnovel era, these traditionally good stories demanded too much time to truly immerse oneself in.

Having quickly thought through all that, Andrew immediately took the chance before the conversation began to study Professor McGonagall, who was still speaking with Mrs. Camille.

She doesn't look much like her, but her bearing is very similar...

So those so-called psychic powers of mine are magic?

The good news is that psychic—no, magic—training can draw upon the experience of those who came before, greatly reducing the chances of taking the wrong path. The bad news is that my one-of-a-kind power has become something off the rack.

But none of that matters. What I need to do is keep pretending I know nothing... because there's no possible way I could have known about that school.

As he rapidly adjusted his mindset, Professor McGonagall had already persuaded Mrs. Camille to leave. Then she looked at Andrew, drew her wand, and gave it a light tap.

The chair between them immediately turned into a goat. Under Andrew's gaze, it tore a sheet of paper from the desk and began chewing it leisurely.

Yet the look of surprise Professor McGonagall had expected never appeared. After a brief daze, Andrew slapped the goat on the head and swiftly snatched back the half-written sheet.

"Your power really is impressive," Andrew said, sounding both amused and helpless. "But I don't think you needed to use something I spent half the day writing as proof."

Fortunately, what he had been writing about at the moment was language learning. If it had been any other manuscript—he would have put it away long ago rather than leaving it on the desk.

He shoved the sheet of paper back as far as he could, while his other hand held down the docile goat. "An extraordinary power. What is this? Oh, no, more precisely, what is it called? Psychic power, supernatural ability, internal energy, magic, source energy, or something else?"

Before Professor McGonagall could answer, he looked at the goat and quickly added in a quiet, surprised tone, "I've read many books about fantastical powers. They use all kinds of names for the unusual abilities they possess, so I'm fairly receptive to these things—especially since I have this kind of power myself."

When meeting someone for the first time, speaking continuously like this was extremely impolite. Compared to talking, listening and giving timely responses without interrupting—simple reactions such as "ah," "I see," or "oh, so that's how it is"—were better at keeping a conversation going.

But he had no choice. He needed the stream of questions to buy himself enough time to steady his emotions.

"Ah, I'm sorry," Andrew continued, putting on an expression of flustered anticipation. "I got a little excited and asked far too many questions."

"It's all right. That's normal," Professor McGonagall said with a nod. "Hogwarts—the Hogwarts you will be attending—is a school of magic. You will study magic there alongside many children your own age."

"A school where you learn magic?" Andrew let his excitement show without needing to pretend. "That's wonderful... but can I afford the tuition?"

"There is no need. Hogwarts does not charge tuition."

The question caught Professor McGonagall somewhat by surprise, though only a little.

"Then what about books, accommodation, meals, clothing?" Andrew's expression was utterly sincere, because he truly did not know. "I'm sorry, Professor. Perhaps I'm asking too many questions, but I really may not be able to pay enough."

"And, Professor, where is the school located? What country's currency does it use? What is the exchange rate? Is it a boarding school? Are there pathways for further education...?"

This was no longer an act at all, but a heartfelt question—sincerity was the best disguise.

This child might be able to help out in the office...

Professor McGonagall did not feel offended in the slightest.

She could practically see an intern working for the school—an exceptionally capable one.

Because Albus rarely concerned himself with such matters, she was responsible for most of the school's administrative chores. Those miscellaneous tasks desperately needed help, but Hogwarts students capable of handling work at that level were generally already in their fifth year. She could not possibly have students working in her office during their OWLs year.

As for sixth- and seventh-year students, they had begun taking on internships outside the school. During the years she had worked at the Ministry of Magic, many departments had already become accustomed to having seventh-year interns take over part of their work.

Over the years, her office had used quite a few interns, but once they became familiar with the work, they would leave for outside internships or even graduate after little more than a year. Even those who occasionally remained at the school became professors; she could not keep dragging them into the office to do odd jobs.

An intern who could start helping with office chores from first year onward, who had a good reputation among his elders, worked carefully and considered everything thoroughly, and who also needed the stipend for an assistant...

So, she happily answered Andrew's questions.

Then, to the professor's surprise, even more questions came.

"That's wonderful... but Professor, there are some things I really want to know about the magic you just used. That goat just now—did the entire chair become a goat? Was it a permanent transformation, a temporary one, or one limited by certain conditions? If part of its body were separated during the transformation, would it revert to its original form, or would only that part revert?"

"I could feel its warmth and blood flowing. Was it a complete simulation of a goat, or was it simply fixed that way after the transformation? If it moved around, would its heartbeat and blood flow change?"

"After the transformation is undone, where does what it ate go? Does it remain inside the chair, fall out, or simply vanish?"

Forget the assistant idea...

Even as England's second-best Transfiguration professor, Professor McGonagall still had that thought after hearing that string of questions.

"You need to gain an initial grasp of Transfiguration and read a sufficient number of theoretical books before you can continue thinking about such matters."

"For magic, the most frightening thing is not a lack of imagination, but allowing your exploration of the unknown to far exceed what you have mastered. Transfiguration has caused more tragedies than any other branch of magical study."

"Come. I'll take you to Diagon Alley, and we can slowly go over these questions on the way. There are many of them, but I will do my best to explain them in terms you can understand. However, there is one most important thing you must remember."

Professor McGonagall's expression turned serious.

"In the study of magic, any experiment involving the unknown is extremely dangerous. Nothing in magic can be taken for granted, and venturing into too many unknowns at once is absolutely forbidden."