Shocking Professor McGonagall for a Century

That wasn't a simple pattern etched with magic.

She could clearly feel that those exquisite, hair-thin rose vines were formed as one with the entire needle!

This meant that during the incredible Transfiguration process, which lasted less than a second, this boy had not only converted the material from "wood to metal," but he had also... at the atomic level, re-encoded and reconstructed the substance, "printing" out these outrageously complex, additional three-dimensional structures during the reorganization process!

What... what is this?!

This isn't "Transfiguration"!

"Transfiguration" is turning A into B; it's changing the "external form" and "surface properties" of a substance.

But what this boy in front of her had done was to completely decompose A into the most basic "nothingness," and then, using "nothingness," arbitrarily create the perfect "C" he desired!

This was no longer within the scope of "talent."

Talent, like Hermione's, was being able to "imitate" and "replicate" the magic taught by the professor faster and more accurately than others.

But what this boy in front of her displayed was a more terrifying, more fundamental ability that transcended all magical techniques...

It was an understanding and control of "material form" at its most essential, core level...

He seemed to inherently know what "wood" was, what "metal" was, what "form" was, and what "laws" were.

Therefore, he didn't need incantations, didn't need wands, and didn't need those cumbersome "rituals" meant to assist mortals.

He only needed one... thought.

A thought of, "I need a needle, a perfect needle."

Then, the world would present him with the result according to his will.

"This... is impossible..." Professor McGonagall's lips moved silently. For the first time, her intelligent, experienced eyes revealed a sense of profound bewilderment and reverence, almost superstitious, in the face of a "miracle."

Decades of teaching experience, decades of dedicated research into the rigorous science of Transfiguration, the unshakeable system of knowledge and worldview about magic she had built, was at this moment, completely shaken by this small silver needle with rose carvings.

She slowly raised her head, her eyes filled with shock, and looked at the instigator who had remained calm throughout.

The boy looked back at her with an equally calm, even innocent gaze, as if asking, "What's the big deal?"

"Professor?" he spoke, a hint of perfectly calibrated confusion in his tone. "Is there something wrong with this needle? Is the... carving too ugly? If you need, I can change it to another pattern, like... a lion?"

"Pfft--"

Someone, in the extreme silence, couldn't help but let out a strange puffing sound, a mix of a laugh and an inability to laugh.

Professor McGonagall's face instantly turned crimson.

Her mind went blank, a buzzing sound filling her head.

What was she supposed to say? What could she say?

Criticize him?

What he had made was ten thousand times more perfect than what she, the professor, had demonstrated!

Praise him?

With what words could she praise him? Say, "Mr. Lin, you are truly a genius"?

No, that would be an insult to the god-like ability he had just displayed!

She was utterly speechless.

Finally, she took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the tumultuous shock within her, and said to Lin Yuan with a voice that felt dry and hoarse even to herself:

"...No... no problem. Mr. Lin. It's... perfect."

She paused, as if gathering all her strength, before adding:

"Gryffindor... plus... fifty points."

Boom--!!!

If Professor Flitwick's twenty points had shocked the entire class, then the "fifty points" from Professor McGonagall, the strictest and most stingy professor when it came to awarding points, had the effect of a bomb exploding in the classroom.

Everyone went mad.

The Gryffindor students erupted in suppressed cheers, only to force the sound back down under Professor McGonagall's sharp gaze, their faces turning red from the effort.

As the recipient of the fifty points, Lin Yuan merely gave Professor McGonagall a polite nod.

"Thank you, Professor."

His nonchalant demeanor made it seem as if he had received not an unprecedented, history-making bonus that would be recorded in Hogwarts' annals, but merely a casual greeting like "The weather is nice today."

This Transfiguration class concluded hastily in an atmosphere a hundred times more bizarre than a Charms class.

Professor McGonagall didn't even look at the "works" of any other student, which were all misshapen and flawed.

She simply waved her hand and announced the end of class early.

Then, with an extremely complex gaze filled with inquiry, shock, and a hint of apprehension, she looked at Lin Yuan and said the same thing Professor Flitwick had said:

"Mr. Lin, please, stay behind."

The dismissal bell sounded like a pardon.

The first-year students from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw cast furtive glances at Lin Yuan, who remained seated with a calm expression, their eyes a mixture of awe, curiosity, and a trace of fear, before leaving the classroom where the air pressure was terrifyingly low.

Ron peeked his head around the door, mouthing silently to Harry and Hermione: "He's dead! Professor McGonagall is going to turn him into a slug with her own hands!"

Harry, meanwhile, watched Lin Yuan's retreating back with deep worry, while Hermione's proud little head, brimming with curiosity, was completely stuffed with a ball of yarn named "Why" and "How is this possible."

She wanted to stay and listen to this interrogation, destined to go down in history, more than anyone else.

But when Professor McGonagall's sharp gaze, capable of freezing the air, swept over them, Hermione immediately became like a startled little rabbit, pulling Ron, who was still acting, and Harry, whose face was full of worry, and quickly disappearing down the corridor.

The heavy oak door slowly closed automatically behind them.

In the empty Transfiguration classroom, only Professor McGonagall and Lin Yuan remained.

And the silver needle with rose carvings, lying quietly on the podium, as if mocking the entire magical world.

An interrogation about the essence of magic, destined to have no outcome due to crossing a cognitive dimensional chasm, was about to begin.

"Click."

A soft sound, as if separating two worlds.

In the spacious and bright Transfiguration classroom, only two people were left.

Standing before the podium was Minerva McGonagall, her expression extremely serious.

And sitting behind the desk was Lin Yuan, his posture casual and relaxed.