Aftermath

"Being diligent and eager to learn is a good thing in Ravenclaw, but you're a little too diligent."

"Don't copy those Hufflepuff students. Their usual habit is to go to the kitchen for meals."

"Madam Pince has dedicated house-elves to handle her meals, and she isn't the only one on duty..."

"Ah?"

Andrew had still pretended to understand and promised to correct himself over the earlier points, but after that last sentence, he truly could not keep up the act.

"Of course. This is the Hogwarts library, not Azkaban... Do you really think someone could spend more than ten hours a day watching students without weekends, working like that for an entire term?"

Put that way, it really was absurd—Professor Binns did not even work that intensely.

"But every time I come here, it's Madam Pince sitting there."

"Because there are two Madam Pinces. They're twins."

???

That was allowed?

"As a qualified Ravenclaw, you should be able to understand that easily enough," Hande said, spreading his hands. "Likewise, as a qualified sixth-year, I need to tell you this: food cannot be solved with magic. Even the Cheering Charm, which comes closest to duplicating food, only creates liquids with a similar taste. Once the magic wears off, it even causes a slight backlash in the drinker."

"So our librarians cannot possibly watch over the library all day without eating. That's basic magical knowledge for upper-year students."

"Very useful knowledge, thank you." Andrew hesitated, but ultimately could not resist asking, "Then, if I summoned a pile of food with magic, and the magic did not end while I was eating it, what would happen?"

"For a wizard, they would quickly realize there was a problem, and then the spell would rapidly vanish. You'd be even hungrier than before you ate."

"For a wizard?"

"Of course." Hande looked as though it were only natural. "If you mean for a Muggle, I advise you not even to think about it—that's a shortcut to Azkaban."

Azkaban was in Rome, and even discussing it would get him sent there?

But this clearly was not something to discuss with the club's magic-obsessed members. To people whose hearts were set on the Ministry of Magic, Azkaban was the greatest blasphemy. Even academic discussion was unacceptable.

I'll ask Professor McGonagall later... I'll ask about the idea that came to me while casting the spell, too.

She was not the head of his house, but as long as Professor McGonagall answered him on this matter, he could shamelessly avoid thinking about anything else.

He tried to change the subject, but before the two of them even returned to the common room, news that the alarm had been lifted had spread throughout the castle. Supposedly, a group of Gryffindors had boldly done it, though no one had stepped forward to admit it.

"Since the alarm has been lifted, you can act on your own now."

He was quickly abandoned in disgust—after all, they were not from the same clique.

Andrew was happy enough with that. It was just inconvenient to go out and send a letter at this hour, which was a pity. (A Troll had entered the castle, and then he went to the Owlery—it would really look like the culprit was tipping someone off. He was afraid a bunch of glory-hungry prefects would pin him down, and then he would be hanging from the Astronomy Tower counting stars today.)

The next day, mingling among the students, Andrew sent out a packet of perfectly ordinary-looking manuscripts. After happily polluting the poor professor's knowledge base with drawings once again, he headed cheerfully to Professor McGonagall's office.

"Sit. Have you gained some new insights from practicing spellcasting?"

"Yes, Professor."

Andrew answered cheerfully. "I even examined the results of those upper-year students."

There was no way he could claim not to know about the Troll. Since everyone was saying it, Andrew naturally and happily shifted the blame onto them.

"Although those students seriously violated school rules, I have to admit that they did quite well."

There was even a trace of a smile on Professor McGonagall's face, though it quickly disappeared. "It looks like it was done by those third-years."

"Their coordination was not very smooth, but they made good use of the terrain," Andrew said without changing expression, as though it had truly had nothing to do with him. "I'm far behind them in that regard."

"It was not that their coordination was poor. They underestimated the Troll too much—they thought it was as docile as the creatures from Magical Creatures class. Their trap control, their transitions, and the follow-up Transfiguration control all looked rushed and clumsy. The spell attacks in between had not achieved their intended effect at all."

She had figured out that much?

She had only assumed from the start that it was third-year students. Otherwise, the blame would have been much harder to shift... Of course, the bigger reason was that no one had been hurt. It counted as a disobedient prank, so Professor McGonagall had no desire to keep investigating and deduct points from her own house.

"They could have done better," Professor McGonagall said, treating it like marking homework even though she was too lazy to investigate further. "If the group had divided up the work more effectively, they could have sent one person to simply control an object and draw the Troll's attention. The others could then reinforce the trap through Transfiguration. That way, they could have completely immobilized the Troll without needing any other methods."

"If they had been upper-year wizards, it would have been even simpler."

Professor McGonagall paused and looked at Andrew.

"They could have temporarily animated an object. That way, before the magic was disrupted, they could calmly use Transfiguration to set up the trap instead of concentrating on controlling the object to distract the Troll."

"That's right, exactly. So I definitely wasn't a fifth-year student tired of studying and looking for a little fun."

Just as Andrew was about to ask his next question, a snow-white owl flew in through the window and dropped a letter onto a nearby desk already piled high with mail.

"Ah, sorry, Professor. That's all. I've interrupted your work again."

"It's fine. I welcome talented students making further explorations in Transfiguration. If I did not have to deal with things like supply orders, I would rather spend my time teaching. All right, continue experimenting with Transfiguration. Remember what I told you—do not involve theories you do not understand."

"Yes, Professor. I'll remember it firmly."

"Good. Oh, if you want to study Transfiguration in depth, I hope you'll gain some understanding of Arithmancy. It will make it easier for you to understand the forms of plants and animals."

Arithmancy? Is it to develop a sensitivity to numbers? So I can more intuitively understand the proportions of plants and animals?

"All right. I know a little Muggle arithmetic. I'll preview that material as soon as possible."

"Mm, very good. Now I need to deal with these documents."

"That's right. Understanding an object's model will definitely help make Transfiguration more realistic—although magic blurs that relationship, it still has some effect."

"Also, I kept thinking about putting the letter on Dumbledore's desk and completely overlooked Professor McGonagall..."

"As long as I get a basic understanding of the school's supply system, I can easily forge a supplier's letter and notify Professor McGonagall."

"Good at arithmetic, with a decent foundation in Transfiguration. The other subjects aren't outstanding, but he hasn't fallen too far behind in them either..."

"If his ability to process numbers is adequate, then he really could help the office handle documents through a work-study arrangement."