Convinced, Convinced

Hermes was stunned. He recognized the Repelling Charm, but he didn't expect Repelling Charm to break the Shield Charm.

Normally, Repelling Charm would be deflected or neutralized by Shield Charm, but Regulus's Repelling Charm was so powerful that it shattered the barrier structure.

In the instant he was stunned, Regulus finally swung his wand.

"Incendio."

A ball of flame flew by, white-gold in color, extremely hot, distorting the air as it passed.

Hermes didn't have time to cast a second Shield Charm, nor did he have the strength to do so. He tried to dodge, but he couldn't.

He covered his head with his arms, closed his eyes, and felt that he was about to die.

But as the flames reached Hermes, they suddenly spread out, enveloping him, and then, a burst of light.

A blinding white light shone in the Training Ground, and Avery and Alex simultaneously closed their eyes and turned their heads away.

A wave of heat hit me, but it lasted only a fraction of a second.

The light went out.

Hermes was still standing there, unharmed, but his hair was completely curled up.

The once straight black hair has now turned into a frizzy clump of curls, with a burnt smell at the ends and wisps of smoke rising from it.

His face bore traces of smoke, and his robe was covered in ash, but the fabric wasn't burned.

He raised his hand to touch his hair, his fingers stopping when they touched the curly ends, then he lowered his hand.

The Training Ground fell silent for a few seconds.

Avery burst out laughing first, his movements exaggerated as he leaned back and forth.

Alex laughed along, but softly, covering his mouth with his hand.

Joy and sorrow are not shared, Hermes did not laugh.

He stood there, looking at Regulus, for a long time.

Then he walked over to Avery and Alex, turned around, and faced Regulus in the center of the Training Ground.

He admitted defeat, was beaten into submission, and then followed him.

Regulus put away his wand and walked up to them.

"That's all for today," he said calmly, his tone flat, as if nothing had happened. "Go eat, you have class this afternoon."

The four left the Room of Requirement, the door closing behind them. The Corridor was empty; it was lunchtime.

On the way to the Great Hall, Avery was still excitedly reviewing the details of what had just happened.

"Did you see that Stone Spike? It's turned red!"

"Incendio can be used like that? I thought it would set Hermes on fire."

Alex murmured in agreement, but spent most of his time looking at Hermes.

Hermes walked silently, occasionally raising his hand to touch his curly hair, his face expressionless.

But Regulus could sense that the thorn of resentment in his heart had been removed.

Just as Regulus had initially envisioned, the simplest method—a display of power and overwhelming strength—was the most effective.

However, fighting Hermes wasn't even a warm-up.

Regulus remained unmoved; he was well aware of the gap between himself and Hermes.

That transcends skills and knowledge; it's a fundamental difference in the level of power.

When two wizards are at different levels, the battle can be elegant and composed, full of a classical sense of ritual.

Just like an adult against a child, you don't need to exert your full strength or use any skills; you can win simply by standing still.

That's how he did it when he fought those four Dark Wizard in Knockturn Alley: he stood still, cast a spell, and his opponents fell.

But it was different when he faced off against his father, Orion.

That time, he needed to move around a lot, anticipate, and use tactics. Some of his movements were very large, his spells had to be precise, his defense had to be tight, and his counterattacks had to be decisive.

Because Orion is at a higher level, but the difference isn't so great as to be invisible.

Regulus wondered if, at his current level, truly powerful individuals like Dumbledore and Voldemort could defeat him as easily as he would defeat Hermes.

The thought crossed his mind for a moment before he dismissed it.

Thinking about this is pointless, because the answer is yes.

By the end of March, the weather at Hogwarts began to warm up.

The snow around the Castle has mostly melted, tender green shoots are sprouting on the grass, the ice on the edge of the Black Lake is thinning, and occasionally you can see Giant Squid using their tentacles to break the ice to breathe.

In her Transfiguration class, Professor McGonagall taught an advanced technique: transforming an inanimate object into a real bird that could fly and sing.

"The key is to understand the boundary between life and non-life." Professor McGonagall stood at the podium, gently waving her wand.

A Wooden Nightingale on the table began to tremble, feathers grew out of the wood grain, and its eyes brightened from their dullness.

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"Transfiguration cannot create life; it gives form and function vitality. Note that Transfiguration creatures have no true soul; their behavior is entirely driven by Magic."

She completed her Transfiguration; the nightingale flew up from the table, circled once in the classroom, and landed on the windowsill to begin singing.

Its call is clear and its wings flap powerfully, but close observation reveals that its movements are repetitive.

It will make the same turn every three laps, and there will be a noticeable pause every five calls.

"Now, begin practicing," Professor McGonagall said. "Each person should complete a wooden carving before the end of class. Remember, the key is the feeling of life, not just an outward resemblance."

The wood carving begins to change; its surface becomes glossy, and the wood grain extends outward, differentiating into fine, feather-like patterns.

Its body is slightly swollen, its wings spread out from the sides of its body, and its claws separate from the base.

Two yellow lights appeared around its eyes, and it turned its head, making a soft "cooing" sound.

Once completed, the Wooden Owl became a living owl, or at least it looked like one.

It stood on the table, tilting its head to look at Regulus, its wingspan half a meter, its feathers clearly layered.

Professor McGonagall came over and examined it carefully.

She reached out and gently touched the owl's wing; the feathers were soft and supple.

She made the owl fly up, and it circled twice in the classroom before landing on Regulus's shoulder and gently preening its feathers with its beak.

"Perfect." Professor McGonagall nodded, her expression serious, but her eyes showing approval. "Complete form, full of life, natural movements, Slytherin, ten out of ten."

Regulus nodded politely. "Thank you, Professor."

Professor McGonagall nodded, turned and walked away to inspect the others.

The Slytherin and Ravenclaw wizards around were already used to this; they merely glanced at the owl curiously for a moment before resuming their Transfiguration.

Regulus raised his hand, and the owl flew to his arm and landed.

He could feel the rhythm of Magic flowing within it, a stable, cyclical Magic Power structure that maintained the Transfiguration effect.

When the Dismissal Bell, most students had completed the basic Transfiguration. The wooden carvings could move and make sounds, but the details were rough, the movements were clumsy, and the sounds were like wood rubbing together.

Only a few did it properly; Regulus was the most perfect one.

The students began packing up and leaving.

Avery, Alex, and Hermes looked at Regulus, who remained seated, still watching the owl.

The three of them exchanged a glance, said nothing, picked up their schoolbags, and left.

They were familiar with Regulus's habit: if he didn't leave after class, it was because he wanted to ask the professor questions.

At first they waited, but then they noticed that Regulus and the professors' conversations were going on for longer and longer, so they stopped waiting.

The classroom quickly emptied. Professor McGonagall tidied her desk, looked up and saw Regulus was still there, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Mr. Black, come to my office."

Regulus stood up, and the owl flew to his shoulder and landed.

He followed Professor McGonagall out of the classroom, through the Corridor, and into the Transfiguration professor's office.

The office was spacious and clean, with bookshelves covering two walls, crammed with heavy Magic books.

A gentle fire burned in the fireplace, and on a large desk lay stacks of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a quill pen.

Several animated paintings hang on the wall: a cat chasing a butterfly, a mouse nibbling on Cheese, and a night view of Hogwarts Castle with stars slowly moving across the canvas.

Professor McGonagall walked behind her desk and sat down, gesturing for Regulus to sit in the chair opposite her.

"Have you mastered all the notes?" she asked, placing her hands folded on the table.

"I've got it," Regulus replied modestly. "Still practicing."

He took two things out of his pocket: a clear, transparent Diamond and a piece of grayish-black Graphite.

The wand is raised, and the Diamond is lightly touched.

The Diamond begins to change: the transparent crystal structure contracts inward, the molecules rearrange, the color changes from transparent to grayish-black, the texture softens from hard, and layered textures appear on the surface.

Diamond are turned into Graphite.

With another tap of the wand, the Graphite reverses its transformation, its layered structure disintegrates, and the molecules rebuild a three-dimensional network. The color changes from gray-black back to transparent, and the texture hardens.

Graphite turns back into Diamond.

The entire process was smooth and stable, with no overflowing Magic Fluctuation or flickering or Transfiguration failures caused by structural instability.

Diamond and Graphite shifted back and forth on the table.

Professor McGonagall watched, her admiration deepening noticeably.

She could tell that Regulus had not only memorized the notes, but had also practiced them extensively.