The Metaphysics of Transfiguration

On Friday of the first week of school, the clouds outside the window were thick and the light was dim; it looked like it was going to rain.

In the Transfiguration Classroom on the second floor of Hogwarts Castle, desks and chairs were neatly arranged, and a box of matches sat on each desk.

Slytherin sat on the left Ravenclaw on the right, the two houses clearly separated, but not with the same hostility as Gryffindor.

People in Ravenclaw spend most of their time focused on their own things and don't have time for those things.

Professor McGonagall stood behind the podium, her posture upright and her expression serious. Her hair was tightly tied back, and her glasses reflected the light.

After all the students were seated and quiet, she began to speak.

"Second-year Transfiguration will advance from the basics to the transformation of material forms. In first year, you learned to turn inanimate objects into other inanimate objects, Match-to-Needle —that's the basics of Transfiguration."

Professor McGonagall, expressionless, said, "This semester, you will be learning Reverse Transfiguration. Today, you will be turning the matches on the table into needles, and then turning the needles back into matches."

With a wave of her wand, today's lessons appeared on the blackboard.

Class topic: The reversibility of morphological transformation and the preservation of essence.

There are three main theoretical points:

Any Transfiguration must retain the essence of the target. A matchstick transformed into a needle must actually be able to sew something. Transfiguration is a real change of matter, not an illusion.

Reversibility is the standard for testing whether the Transfiguration was successful; if it cannot be reversed, it means you haven't truly transformed.

The Spellcasting must understand the nature of the target object.

The operating steps are also listed:

First, turn the match into a needle; this is a review.

Then turn the conjured needle back into a match; this is a new addition today.

Finally, compare the reverted matches with the original matches to see what the differences are.

Professor McGonagall lowered her wand. "Begin."

The classroom was filled with the sound of incantations.

"Ver Vero!"

"Ver Vero!"

Match-to-Needle is relatively easy; I practiced it for a whole year in first grade. But turning a needle back into a match is difficult.

To ordinary novice wizards, the needles they conjure only look like needles, with a point and an eye, but inside they are still matches.

Or rather, they themselves didn't even know what they had conjured up.

The Magic Power transformed the match into a needle-shaped object, but they had no idea whether it was wood or metal, solid or hollow, whether it could sew things or only prick people.

How can you change back when you don't even know what you've created?

Various problems began to emerge in the classroom.

Some people turned back into matches that were too thick, some turned back into matches that were too thin, and some turned back into matches that broke at the slightest touch.

Professor McGonagall walked among the desks, occasionally stopping to offer guidance.

"Miss Ellis, can the needle you conjure sew anything? Try it... It won't pierce the fabric; it just looks like a needle."

"Mr. Bloch, why is the match you turned back into a bent one? Because the needle you turned into was bent to begin with."

Regulus picked up a match from the table; it was oak, about three inches long, with a smooth surface and a dark red sulfurous head.

He tapped his wand lightly. "Ver Vero."

The match transformed into a needle, silvery-white, with a straight shaft, a sharp tip, and a round eye.

He picked up the needle and examined it, then let it rest on a piece of coarse cloth used for testing. The needle moved on its own, easily piercing the fabric and sewing two neat stitches.

He placed the needle in his palm, lit the wand again, and the needle turned back into a match.

It's exactly the same as the original one—color, length, thickness, not a single detail different.

He picked it up, looked at it, and put it down.

He could Reverse Transfiguration even when he was a child.

When Sirius was three years old, he turned a silver spoon into an earthworm, and then he turned the earthworm back into a silver spoon.

He is now twelve years old.

Professor McGonagall happened to walk up to his desk. She picked up the match, looked at it, and then put it back.

"Very good, Mr. Black."

Her tone was calm, without any hint of praise; to Regulus, it would have been strange if she hadn't been able to conjure it.

She looked at the whole class. "Did you all see that? This is a standard reversible Transfiguration; it changes not only the shape, but also the essence of the object."

She added, "Of course, standards are standards, but being able to achieve them is another matter. Keep practicing."

Regulus looked at the match on the table, then looked up at what Professor McGonagall had written on the blackboard.

The Transfiguration must preserve the essence of the target.

What is the essence of a match?

Is it wood? Is it the shape? Or is it that it can burn?

He picked up the match again and probed it with his Magic Perception.

The internal structure of the match unfolded in his mind: the wood fibers, traces of sulfur, and the traces of Magic Power remaining from the recent Transfiguration.

The arrangement of the fibers, the unique density and texture of oak, are all clearly visible.

He thought of another question: what if the essence isn't fixed?

He began to construct a completely different match in his mind.

Linden wood is lighter in color, softer in texture, and has a more sparse fiber arrangement; even the sulfur content in the match head is different.

Then he tapped his wand lightly. "Ver Vero."

The match turned into a needle, exactly the same as before; when lit again, the needle turned back into a match.

But this time, it didn't turn back to the original Oak Match; it was made of linden wood.

The lighter color and softer wood make them feel different to the touch.

Regulus picked up the match, looked at it, and then put it down.

A thought flashed through his mind: if Transfiguration changes the essence of matter, then what exactly is that altered essence?

Are they physical properties of a substance? Like density, hardness, and ignition point?

Or is it its function?

It is a match, so it can be struck and lit; that is its function.

But if the function changes, does the essence change? And vice versa?

His ability to turn oak into linden demonstrates that the nature of wood is not immutable.

So what is truly immutable?

Or is the word "essence" itself wrong? There is no immutable essence, only countless characteristics that can be changed.

But if that's the case, then what exactly is this pile of things?

Is it still the same thing? If not, where did it go?

Regulus fell into deep thought.

Professor McGonagall hadn't gone far; she had been observing Regulus. The lesson content was indeed too easy for him. She knew him and knew he would definitely do something about it.

Sure enough, she saw Regulus stare blankly at the match for a few seconds after his first transformation, then after his second transformation, he picked up the match again and looked at it thoughtfully.

She walked over, picked up the match, glanced at it, and then looked at Regulus.

There was a very subtle change in his eyes, as if to say, "I know what you did."

She put the matches back on the table, said nothing, just nodded, and continued her inspection.

The Dismissal Bell, and the students handed in their finished products and left the classroom one after another.

Just as Regulus was about to leave, Professor McGonagall's voice came from behind him. "Mr. Black, come to my office."

Regulus stopped and nodded. "Yes, Professor."

Pushing open the door and entering the office, Professor McGonagall went around to her desk and gestured for Regulus to sit down.

She looked at him and said bluntly, "Just now in class, you changed the nature of a match."

Regulus nodded respectfully, but said nothing.

He didn't know if what he had just changed was the kind of essential change the professor was talking about, but since the professor had said so, he listened quietly.

"Oak turning into linden," Professor McGonagall said. "If you can achieve Permanent Transfiguration, then what you're doing is transformation, not change. Do you understand the difference?"

Regulus thought for a moment, "Transfiguration changes matter, while metamorphosis changes essence?"

"More or less," Professor McGonagall nodded, "But not quite accurate."

She continued, "Transfiguration is modification on the original basis, while transformation is complete replacement, but the premise is Permanent Transfiguration."

Regulus was silent for a moment, then asked, "Professor, what then is immutable?"

Professor McGonagall looked at him. "What you're asking is, are there things that can't be changed even by transformation?"

Regulus nodded. "Yes, Professor."

Professor McGonagall simply replied, "Yes."

She tapped her wand lightly, and the matches on the table floated up.

"This thing is a match not just because it's made of wood, but also because it has a place in this world."

It was produced in a factory, sold in a store, picked up by you at a certain moment, and ignited in a certain instant.

The match fell back onto the table.

"Those positions, those relationships, those points on the timeline—these cannot be altered by Transfiguration."

Regulus was momentarily lost in thought. What the professor said was easy to understand, but the meaning behind it was far too profound.

He hesitated, then asked tentatively, "Are you talking about... fate?"

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "Not entirely. Fate is passive, it's something predetermined. I'm talking about position, about being part of the world's web, and your connection to everything else."

"A match can be transformed into linden wood, but its place in the matchbox, the time when you picked it up, and the future when it will be lit—all of these remain."

You changed its materials, but not its core essence.

Regulus pondered.

Location, relationships, points on the timeline, connections to other things, and the predetermined future.

These are indeed beyond the reach of Transfiguration, at least not for him now, and he can't think of anyone who could.

Merlin?

"And what if," he said slowly, "Even these can be changed?"

McGonagall's gaze deepened, a hint of longing in it. "Then it's not Transfiguration anymore."

"What is that?" Regulus asked.

"Create," McGonagall said, "Or rather, redefine."

The office fell silent, and Regulus took those words to heart.

After a while, Professor McGonagall's expression softened. "How's that notebook coming along?"

Regulus snapped out of his reverie and gave a slight bow, "I'm watching; it will take time to understand."

Professor McGonagall remained noncommittal. "Demonstrate it."

Regulus stood up, drew his wand, pointed it above the desk, and Magic Power surged forth.

The air began to distort, and a small area, about the size of a palm, floated above the table.

The light there became blurry and distorted, primitive, simple, faint, even completely unformed, but it was indeed Spatial Transfiguration.

McGonagall looked at the area, her face expressionless, but a faint hint of satisfaction in her eyes.

She said seriously, "We're still far from it, but we're heading in the right direction."

McGonagall looked at the area, her face expressionless, but a faint hint of satisfaction in her eyes.

She said seriously, "We're still far from it, but we're heading in the right direction."

Regulus withdrew his wand, and the area returned to its original state.

"Keep practicing," Professor McGonagall said. "Ask me any questions you may have."

Regulus nodded. "Thank you, Professor."

"Mr. Black."

"The question you just asked, 'Is there anything that is Transfiguration?' Very good. Keep thinking about it. In the end, everyone will encounter this question. The sooner you start thinking about it, the further you will go."

Regulus looked grateful, knowing the professor was giving him a hint: "I understand, Professor."

Then, he politely said goodbye and left.