The Professor's Invitation

Professor McGonagall led Vaughn to her office.

It was on the second floor, with a view of the Quidditch pitch from the window. That was one of the small privileges of being deputy headmistress, indulging her love of Quidditch.

Back in her office, Professor McGonagall did not seem quite so stern. She even offered Vaughn a small biscuit before asking:

"Mr. Weasley, it wasn't convenient to ask in class just now, but I assume you practiced Transfiguration privately at home, didn't you?"

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"Yes, Professor. I used my brothers' textbooks."

"I believe I repeatedly emphasized to your brothers how dangerous it was." Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together.

Vaughn nodded. "That's why I only tried object transfiguration, Professor. I started with small things, just as Percy noted down—simple changes first, then more complicated ones... These are some of my own observations."

He took out the copy of Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration filled with notes and handed it to Professor McGonagall.

Professor McGonagall flipped through it first. "A new book? You reviewed everything again before starting school?"

"Yes, Professor."

Professor McGonagall said no more, studying it intently. Only after a long while did she close the book and reveal a faint, gratified smile. "I see, Mr. Weasley. You were very well prepared, and your records of every transfiguration are also very detailed."

She did not show her surprise, merely sighed inwardly.

At first, Professor McGonagall had assumed Vaughn had only dabbled in it, or had received some tutoring from his brothers and gained a slight foundation.

But after reading his notes, she realized that Vaughn's grasp of Transfiguration had already reached an advanced level. The proof lay on the final page of the textbook:

"...Today, I successfully turned Fruit Tea's dried fish into a mouse. For a moment, I thought I had created life, but clearly I hadn't. That mouse's behavior had already been predetermined by me. It was merely a puppet that looked like a mouse. It lacked the liveliness that belonged to life itself, but this goes beyond the knowledge I currently possess. How does more advanced Transfiguration solve this problem?"

"Spells require the corresponding emotions. Perhaps Transfiguration cannot be separated from that either? To change inanimate objects into living creatures, or to alter one life into another, perhaps one must begin with the target of the transfiguration's thoughts and emotions? Or memories?"

It had to be said, when Professor McGonagall read those words, she was deeply shaken.

Not by Vaughn's progress in Transfiguration, but by his thoughts and conjectures about it!

Such a genius... why did he have to be in Slytherin?

After hesitating for a moment, Professor McGonagall, who had upheld fairness and impartiality all her life as deputy headmistress, finally said rather stiffly, "Mr. Weasley, you know, not all students progress at the same pace. There are always some students who are more... gifted..."

She had never liked ranking students into different tiers, but that was reality.

She continued, "For students who learn more quickly, Headmaster Dumbledore encourages professors in each subject to establish clubs for more targeted instruction..."

"Mr. Weasley, would you be willing to join my Transfiguration Club?"

Her face felt a little warm, as though she were secretly poaching someone else's talent.

Yet she still looked at Vaughn expectantly.

Professors had the right to extend invitations; naturally, those invited also had the right to refuse.

Under her earnest gaze, Vaughn smiled.

"It would be an honor, Professor McGonagall."

"So, you joined the Transfiguration Club?"

In the Great Hall, Hermione cried out in surprise at the Gryffindor table.

"Of course. Professor McGonagall said my level was sufficient. Class can't teach me much more at the moment, and the other members of the club are at least fourth-years. Only there can I continue learning, instead of wasting time in class."

Vaughn ate as he filled in a form—the club application.

Hermione stared at it, her eyes practically shining. She asked hesitantly, "If—if I can also turn a match into a needle perfectly like you did today, would I have a chance too?"

"Not necessarily." Vaughn thought about it. "But when the time comes, you can ask Professor McGonagall and give it a try."

The moment he finished speaking, Hermione hurriedly grabbed two pieces of bread and rushed toward the library like a gust of wind.

She had clearly found a new source of motivation!

Harry and Ron, who had been sitting beside them and eavesdropping the whole time, exchanged glances. These two had already begun to show their true colors as poor students.

Everything at Hogwarts was filled with novelty to them.

Studying? Wasn't it better to explore and have fun everywhere?

They could not really understand Hermione's envy or her goals.

Nor did they think Vaughn joining some club and attending a few more lessons was anything worth celebrating.

At least Ron was more bothered by the snake-and-shield badge on Vaughn's chest.

Seeing Vaughn still sitting at the Gryffindor table—and even stealing a piece of his roast meat—he finally could not help taking a jab at him. "Why aren't you at the Slytherin table? Why come here and steal our food? You think Harry's easy to bully, is that it?"

Harry: "?"

I really don't understand you Weasleys...

Vaughn said nothing. He slowly finished the roast meat, then pulled a small bag from his schoolbag and opened it.

Inside was a brand-new, complete wand maintenance kit!

Ron's eyes went wide, and Harry seemed to hear him swallow.

This routine was way too familiar!

Ron's face flushed red, torn between longing and anger. He wanted to grab that bag and hurl it right into Vaughn's hateful face.

But years of being oppressed, along with the expensive price of the care kit, left him without the courage to do it.

From his past experience, Vaughn that devil would definitely use his desire to tempt him into lowering his head again.

He decided that no matter what happened today, he would not yield. That was a Gryffindor's conviction when facing a Slytherin!

Then he felt a hand pat his head.

"Take it, Ron. Charms is this afternoon—you'll need it... Study hard, and stop fooling around!"

When Ron looked up again, Vaughn had already gone far away. Only the little open bag remained on the seat.

Ron watched his retreating figure grow more distant until it finally vanished around the corner.

Watching all this, Harry suddenly noticed that Ron's eyes had reddened. This somewhat careless companion of his sniffled like a primary school kid, tears streaming down his face. He reached out, pulled the care kit into his arms, and hugged it tightly.

Between sobs, he asked, "Harry, not all Slytherins are bad guys, right?"

Harry suddenly understood. Ron had actually been worried that his brother might have changed; he just didn't know how to express it.

Gently patting his shoulder, Harry nodded firmly. "Yeah!"

Elsewhere.

As Vaughn headed toward the Slytherin common room, he happily hummed a tune.

Who said he only had one routine?