Fortunately, Draco kept his notes brief, only highlighting the key points.
His notes were far more sloppy than Hermione's neatly written and annotated notebook beside him.
Although it was dry, Draco had to admit that Professor McGonagall's theories were more professional and detailed than those in the books.
Even emergency remedies for deviations in magical power were explained in detail.
After what seemed like an eternity, Professor McGonagall finally closed her textbook, looked up, and said, "That's enough theory. Now, let's begin the practical exercise."
Upon hearing this, a barely perceptible commotion arose in the classroom, and all the students immediately straightened up, their eyes shining with anticipation.
After a long theoretical discussion, it was finally time for the practical part that everyone was most interested in.
At Professor McGonagall's command, Hermione immediately began, her movements swift and decisive without the slightest hesitation.
As soon as she chanted the incantation, a pale golden light enveloped the match, and a slender silver needle landed steadily in her palm.
A fleeting, almost imperceptible, delight crossed her eyes as she glanced at Draco out of the corner of her eye.
She knew perfectly well that the guy beside her was the real expert in Transfiguration.
Neville's eyes widened instantly, and he gripped his wand, exclaiming in a low voice, " Hermione, you did it on your first try!"
"As long as you follow Professor McGonagall's instructions and master the coordination of your spellcasting and hand gestures..."
Hermione was about to give detailed instructions when Olivia interrupted her with a laugh, "Stop, we'll do it right away, okay? Let's not have another class."
Neville felt a tightness in his chest from Hermione's success.
His hand holding the wand was somewhat stiff, and his incantation was both rapid and unclear. The light at the tip of the wand flickered, and the match only charred one side. Unsurprisingly, it was a failure.
His face fell.
"Actually, your pronunciation is already good," Hermione whispered, turning around. "If your hand gestures are a little steadyer and you focus your mind on 'contouring and shaping,' you should be able to do it."
"I... I'll give it a try." Neville gripped his wand tightly and readjusted it; it really worked.
However, the end of the match head is barely pointed, not quite a needle.
He hung his head dejectedly and said, "It still doesn't work..."
"Don't set your goals too high," Hermione quickly reassured her.
"This is already progress; with continued practice, you'll definitely succeed."
Most of the hawks on Ravenclaw's side made the same mistake as Neville: their incantations were mumbled and their gestures were stiff.
Professor McGonagall was standing between the desks on the left, bending down to point at each student, her fingertips gently correcting the angle of their canes.
Draco wasn't in a hurry to make a move; he naturally wanted to let his wife have the spotlight.
She loved this tangible sense of accomplishment.
But Hermione couldn't wait any longer, turning her head every few seconds to whisper to Draco, "Hurry up, this isn't an easy task for you, is it?"
Draco raised a hand to his lips, gesturing for her to be quiet, and replied in a low voice, "You know I don't want to be in the limelight."
Hermione rolled her eyes, her tone full of exasperation. "Haven't you been in the limelight enough already?"
Draco raised an eyebrow and chuckled, "Isn't this passive?"
Hermione was too lazy to argue with Draco anymore. She was certain he wouldn't cause any trouble, and any further urging would only be a waste of her time.
She simply turned back, gripping her wand and practicing turning matches into needles repeatedly. The spell light from her fingertips became more and more steady each time, determined to perfect every detail before she would stop.
Before Professor McGonagall had even reached Gryffindor, a soft sound came from Harry's side.
A silver needle landed steadily in his palm.
He was instantly overjoyed, his heart leaping with excitement. He had actually become the second person to succeed, and he was able to keep up with the pace of this difficult Transfiguration class!
Harry turned to look at Ron beside him, his face beaming with excitement, but Ron's expression was sour, and he said in a resentful tone, "Well done, Harry."
Harry smiled and replied, " Ron."
Ron pouted, looking unconvinced. "That's not fair! Why are you faster than me?"
"I don't know, maybe it's talent."
Harry scratched his head and spoke the truth without a trace of boasting in his tone.
Ironically, this unintentional remark left Ron speechless for a long time.
Someone nearby quickly reminded Ron, "Stop talking! Professor McGonagall is coming soon, get back to practicing!"
Ron immediately fell silent, his face tense as he gripped his wand tightly and buried himself in his practice.
Suddenly, Seamus in the front row gripped his wand tightly, raised an eyebrow, and shouted to those around him, "Watch this!"
Draco chuckled inwardly upon hearing this.
I've been waiting for you!
Of all the spellcasting lessons, Seamus's was the most interesting part, and we'd finally gotten to see it.
Draco immediately reached out and shook Hermione's arm, which was about to cast a spell, and said urgently, " Hermione, stop! This is about to get interesting!"
Hermione turned to look at me, frowning, and asked, "What's the show?"
"Let's turn around," Draco said, pulling her arm behind her. She immediately struggled, "No, that will disrupt class."
"Consider it as giving pointers to the students behind you," I pleaded. Hermione finally relaxed her shoulders and reluctantly nodded.
Neville, standing behind him, quickly put down his wand and peered out, asking curiously, "What's the good news?"
"This is going to be a great show, look behind you!" Draco gestured with his chin toward Seamus, Olivia, intrigued, turned around as well.
With a confident expression, Seamus raised his staff and chanted a spell. The moment the spell ended, a wisp of black smoke suddenly rose from the match head, and the smell of burning flesh wafted over.
The matchstick looked exactly the same, but the moment he picked it up, his face scrunched up.
His wrinkled face looked like he was clutching a red-hot iron or holding a block of ice, his fingertips frozen in place for a long time.
Within two seconds, the match began to twist and melt, slowly shrinking into a sticky mass that was indistinguishable between wax and metal, hissing and emitting cool smoke in his palm.
That wasn't all; the next second, a soft "bang!" was heard.
The object exploded into a small cloud of gray smoke, accompanied by a brief, blinding flash of light, which startled everyone around, causing them to shrink back in fright.
Lavender, who was sitting at the table in front of Seamus, was so startled that his shoulders twitched, and he shrank back in his chair, his face turning pale.
Dean, standing beside him, seemed used to it. He patted Seamus's shoulder helplessly and sighed, "Dude, could you be a little gentler next time?"
Seamus stared at the ash in his palm for two seconds, then, with a long face, slammed his wand down and said in disbelief, "How could this happen again!"
The surrounding classmates cast glances, their expressions a mixture of sympathy and curiosity, some even suppressing a laugh.
Even the hawks on Ravenclaw's side were disturbed by the soft sound during their practice. One student who was casting a spell was startled, and half of the match in his hand turned into a needle, frozen in mid-air.
Professor McGonagall immediately turned around, her gaze precisely locking onto the source of the accident.
Seeing Seamus standing there, his face covered in specks of black ash, his eyes still glazed over.
She immediately walked over with steady and firm steps.
She stopped at Seamus's table and called out in a calm, clear voice, " Mr. Finnigan."
There was no reproach whatsoever, but that address felt like a bucket of cold water being poured over Seamus's head.
He jolted awake, snapping back to reality. He frantically wiped his face, only spreading the ash more evenly. His hand gripping the wand trembled with nervousness, and he didn't dare lift his head. "T-Professor..."