Hogwarts classes began promptly the next morning. Owls delivered the timetables, the ink on the parchment still fresh and carrying a faint magical aura. For Slytherin's first-years, the first class on Wednesday morning was Transfiguration, taught by Professor Albus Dumbledore.
When Tom and Ares entered the Transfiguration classroom with the crowd, a peculiar atmosphere already filled the room. It was neither as bright and orderly as the Charms classroom nor as cold and damp as the Potions Class classroom. It was spacious, with large windows, yet the light seemed softened by some force. Fine golden magical motes, like stardust, drifted through the air. Behind the lectern hung a tapestry of geometric patterns that constantly shifted shape.
Professor Dumbledore was already standing behind the lectern. He wore a deep blue robe embroidered with silver moons and stars. Behind his half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes calmly swept over the students filing in. There was none of the profound scrutiny he had shown in the Great Hall the night before; he looked more like a gentle scholar.
Yet Ares could clearly sense that when he and Tom entered the room, Dumbledore's gaze rested on them for the briefest instant. It felt like the lightest brush of a feather, yet it carried the weight of seeing through everything.
Tom had evidently noticed as well. He straightened his back, wearing a perfect expression of earnest thirst for knowledge, and chose seats near the front of the middle row. Ares sat beside him.
"Good morning," Dumbledore's voice echoed through the classroom. It was not loud, yet it strangely silenced every whisper. "Welcome to Transfiguration. Transfiguration is one of the most complex, and one of the most dangerous, branches of magic you will study at Hogwarts. Any student who behaves recklessly in my classroom will be asked to leave and may never be permitted to return. Therefore, I suggest that each and every one of you listen carefully and practise seriously."
His tone remained gentle, but the weight behind his words made every first-year sit up straighter. A flash of excitement lit Tom's eyes. Danger and complexity were exactly to his liking.
Dumbledore did not open a textbook. Instead, he began teaching immediately. He first explained the fundamental principles of Transfiguration—the five principal exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. With clear, captivating language, he turned dry theory into a key for exploring the mysteries of the universe. He even slipped in several amusing stories about failed Transfiguration attempts, drawing restrained laughter from the room and relaxing even some of the most nervous-looking Hufflepuff students.
But Ares noticed that Dumbledore's gaze swept over every student's face like a precise radar, observing their level of understanding and their reactions.
Once the theory had been explained, it was time for practice. Today's task was to turn a matchstick into a needle.
"Clearly speak the incantation, 'Vera Verto,' while forming an utterly clear image of the target object in your mind—the needle's shape, texture, and sheen. Willpower is the key to successful Transfiguration." Dumbledore demonstrated. With a light tap of his wand, the matchstick in his hand instantly lengthened and brightened, becoming a silver needle that gleamed with a cold metallic light. The process was smooth and flawless.
The students began to try. Uneven chants and the sounds of wand movements immediately filled the room. Most of the results were far from satisfactory. Some matchsticks merely let out a little smoke. Others became twisted half-wood, half-metal monstrosities. Billius Black's matchstick even burst into flames, and he frantically put it out.
Tom was one of the few students who immediately displayed talent. He focused, his lips moving slightly, and precisely tapped his wand—his matchstick twisted, one end sharpening. Though it was still wooden overall and its colour had not changed, it had already taken on the rough shape of a needle. Among the first-years who had made no progress or caused chaos, he stood head and shoulders above the rest.
Several nearby Slytherin students gave him approving looks, and Abraxas nodded slightly as well. Tom kept a humble expression, but the satisfaction in his eyes was almost overflowing.
Dumbledore walked over and examined Tom's "half-finished product." Smiling, he said, "A very good start, Mr. Riddell. Your will is focused, and your conception of the shape is basically correct. But you need firmer conviction when it comes to transforming the material. Try again."
With Dumbledore's approval, Tom became even more invigorated. He waved his wand again, and this time, the metallic sheen of the "needle" became more pronounced.
Then Dumbledore stopped at Ares's desk.
The matchstick in front of Ares... appeared completely unchanged.
Tom frowned almost imperceptibly. Given Ares's ability, it should not have been like this.
Dumbledore looked at the utterly motionless matchstick, then at Ares and the wand in his hand, with its spiralling patterns of dark grey and pale gold. "Having trouble, Mr. Phoenix?" he asked gently.
Ares looked up, thoughtfulness rather than frustration in his heterochromatic eyes. "Professor," he asked softly, his voice not loud but clear in the relatively quiet classroom, "I was thinking... Gamp's Law says that we cannot conjure delicious food out of nothing. But what if we changed only its 'perception'? For instance, what if this matchstick looked and felt exactly like a needle, and even made anyone touching it believe it was a needle, while its essence remained unchanged? Would that count as successful Transfiguration, or some advanced form of illusion? Where is the boundary between the two?" The question went beyond the textbook and even carried a touch of philosophical inquiry. It did not challenge Transfiguration itself, but explored its nature and limits.
The classroom fell silent at once. Even the students struggling with their matchsticks stopped what they were doing and stared at Ares in surprise. Tom's pupils contracted slightly. He had not expected Ares to raise such a... strange yet profound question at a time like this.
Dumbledore's blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles suddenly lit up like blue flames being kindled. He did not answer immediately. Instead, he studied Ares with great interest, as though looking at a seashell that had suddenly revealed an unusual pattern.
"A very... interesting question, Mr. Phoenix." Dumbledore's tone carried undisguised appreciation and deeper curiosity. "It touches upon the blurred territory between Transfiguration, illusion, and even the Confundus Charm. Strictly speaking, changing only perception while leaving the essence untouched is closer to the realm of advanced illusion. But the highest level of Transfiguration itself also involves challenging and reshaping one's understanding of an object's 'essence.' Your perspective is very unique."
He did not give a simple either-or answer, but guided the direction of their thoughts. "Perhaps, in your future studies, you can explore and verify that boundary for yourself. But for now..." He smiled slightly and lightly tapped the matchstick before Ares with his wand. "Let us focus first on the most basic transformation of material form. Clear will, Mr. Phoenix. Believe that it is a needle, not merely that it looks like one."
As his words fell, the matchstick before Ares silently and smoothly transformed into a perfect silver needle, gleaming brightly and no different from the one Dumbledore had created earlier.
Ares knew that Dumbledore had personally helped him complete it. It felt more like a demonstration and encouragement.
"Thank you, Professor," Ares said.
Dumbledore nodded. His gaze lingered on Ares's face for a moment, especially as it passed over the golden chain-like pattern beneath his left eye, before he turned and moved on to the other students.
The class continued, but the atmosphere had subtly changed. Many students, including those from Slytherin and Ravenclaw, could not help sneaking glances at Ares. Tom's success was solid and dazzling, but the question Ares had raised after his apparent "failure" displayed an entirely different kind of unfathomable intelligence.
Tom continued practising in silence, making his "needle" ever more realistic, but he kept watching Ares from the corner of his eye. Ares did not try again. He merely looked at the silver needle Dumbledore had transformed, deep in thought.
When the bell rang, Dumbledore assigned reading homework and once again stressed the importance of willpower.
The students packed up and left the classroom. Tom and Ares walked side by side down the corridor.
"That question of yours just now," Tom suddenly said in a low voice. "Was it deliberate?"
Ares glanced at him and answered calmly, "I just thought of it, so I asked."
Tom was silent for several seconds before saying, "Dumbledore appreciates you." No emotion could be heard in his voice, but Ares could sense the faint tension hidden beneath it. Tom disliked anything that might threaten his position as "the best," even if that factor was Ares.
"He appreciates the question, not me," Ares corrected. "Besides, the way he looks at me is different from how he looks at you."
Tom's steps paused slightly. He remembered Dumbledore's unusual gaze at Ares during the Sorting the night before. He pressed his lips together and said nothing more.
The first Transfiguration class had come to an end. Tom had earned recognition through his talent, while Ares had left an even deeper impression in Dumbledore's mind—and in the eyes of certain observant people—with a single question. This battle of wits had only just begun. What they did not know was that Professor Filida Spore, who had just finished teaching her Charms class outside the classroom door, had happened to hear Ares's question about the boundary between Transfiguration and illusion. A flicker of surprise passed through her sharp eyes before she fell into brief contemplation.
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