Professor McGonagall didn't reprimand him at all, 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 nervously, like a child caught doing something wrong. "Professor... Professor..."
Professor McGonagall looked at him, not blaming him, but offering guidance:
" Transfiguration is about control and precision, not brute force. Your willpower is like a charging rhinoceros, not a sculptor's chisel. Try again, halve the range of motion, recite the incantation clearly, and focus only on a needle in your mind."
"Yes, yes, Professor," Seamus replied hastily, bowing his head even lower.
Professor McGonagall raised her cane and lightly waved it at him. A flash of clear light appeared, and the black ash on his face vanished instantly, leaving him completely Scourgify.
After finishing, her tone turned cold and sharp. " Mr. Finnigan, I find your notes surprisingly concise. I hope this indicates that you have fully grasped the essentials, rather than that your brain is as 'concise' as a quill pen."
"Now, repeat to me the three common mistakes I highlighted five minutes ago."
Draco said to the few who were still watching the spectacle, "The show's over. Professor McGonagall is watching. Time to practice."
The group snapped out of their daze, hastily averting their gaze, grabbing their wands, and picking up their matches again, only their ears still pricked up.
Upon hearing that he was to retell the lecture, Seamus stiffened abruptly, managing to stammer, "Professor..."
He glanced frantically at Dean beside him, his eyes pleading for help, but Dean just shook his head helplessly; he was powerless to help either.
"That's not surprising." Professor McGonagall glanced at his open notebook.
"Those few 'concentrate' notes in your notebook obviously won't help you understand the intricacies of Transfiguration. The root cause of those 'creative' accidents in your class is precisely your neglect of basic principles."
"You swing your wand like a stick because you don't have a clear blueprint in your mind. Magic isn't about brute force; it's about this."
As she spoke, she lightly tapped her temple with her wand, the seriousness in her gaze making Seamus afraid to even breathe.
Seamus lowered his head and remained silent.
" Mr. Finnigan, due to your serious lack of preparation in class and perfunctory attitude towards learning, Gryffindor, deduct five points."
As Professor McGonagall finished speaking, Seamus buried his head even deeper.
He dared not make eye contact with anyone, especially Professor McGonagall in front of him.
His gaze was fixed on the page of notes with only a few numbers, and after a long while, he mumbled in an almost inaudible voice, "Yes, Professor..."
Seamus's tone was very submissive, without the slightest hint of defiance; he fully accepted the defeat and punishment.
Professor McGonagall looked at him and softened her tone, but still maintained a strict requirement:
"Now that you understand, tonight carefully copy Chapter 3 of the Principles of Concentration from the ' A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration ', about five inches long, and hand it in to my office tomorrow. I hope this will help you make up for the knowledge gaps you've missed in class."
"I understand, Professor."
Seamus almost cried, but he agreed anyway.
Professor McGonagall nodded, glancing across the room. All the students who had been daydreaming immediately tensed up, focusing intently on the matches and wands in their hands.
Only the low chanting of incantations and the faint glint of light from the tip of the staff remained in the classroom.
After dealing with Seamus's matter, Professor McGonagall made her way to the Gryffindor seating area.
The tapping sound of heels on the stone slabs made Harry, Ron, and Hermione sit up straight instantly.
Ron gripped his wand even tighter, casting spells with even greater effort, the match in his hand swaying back and forth.
Harry suppressed a smile, his eyes darting eagerly after Professor McGonagall.
He even placed the silver needle that had been transformed into a success in the most conspicuous place on his desk.
Hermione did the same, placing her near-perfect needle on the edge of the table.
Professor McGonagall walked to Ron's desk, her gaze sweeping over the half-finished match in his hand, and spoke calmly:
" Mr. Weasley, the steps are correct. The match is not completely formed into a needle because your intention is not clear enough. You must imagine every detail of the needle, from the tip to the body, without any ambiguity."
"I understand, Professor McGonagall," Ron replied quickly, secretly relieved.
At least I wasn't criticized, so I passed the test.
After praising Ron, Professor McGonagall's gaze fell on Harry.
Harry's eyes met hers unintentionally, and his heart skipped a beat. He pretended to fiddle with his wand.
Professor McGonagall picked up the silver needle from his desk, examined it between her fingertips, and approved, saying, "Very good, Potter, the needle tip is perfect. Gryffindor, add five points."
Harry's smile instantly lit up, and he quickly replied, "Thank you, Professor. I will continue to work hard."
At this moment, a surge of warmth and pride welled up inside him, and this recognition greatly boosted his confidence.
A barely perceptible smile flickered in Professor McGonagall's eyes. She nodded slightly and walked toward Draco and Hermione's desks.
Hermione sat up straighter instantly, her hands clenched tightly on her knees, as if facing an important test.
Professor McGonagall immediately noticed the silver needle she had placed on the edge of the table. The needle gleamed with a delicate metallic luster in the light, and it was almost flawless.
She bent down, carefully picked up the needle with her slender fingers, gently stroked the needle, and then tentatively touched the tip.
The serious scrutiny lasted a few seconds before Professor McGonagall looked up at Hermione and said in a voice loud enough for the whole class to hear, "Exceptional, Miss Granger! Truly exceptional Transfiguration."
Upon hearing this, all the students in the class looked over in surprise.
Hermione's face flushed bright red, the blush spreading all the way to her ears.
She instinctively raised her hand to cover her mouth, but couldn't hide the huge, radiant smile on her lips, her body trembling slightly with excitement.
All the effort and pre-class anxiety were released at this moment.
In a slightly trembling voice, she whispered, "Thank you, Professor."
Professor McGonagall gave Hermione a barely perceptible twitch of her lips.
She then picked up the silver needle, turned to the whole class, and began her professional analysis:
"Look everyone, the needle tip is perfectly smooth and thornless, the shaft is straight and symmetrical, and the transformation from wood to metal is complete, with not a trace of residue."
"Most importantly, the shape remains stable, showing no signs of rebound. This is the power of clear intention, the core of Transfiguration."
Professor McGonagall's fingers held the thin needle, which stood out conspicuously in the light.
This unique and meticulous analysis is a privilege that no one else has received.
The dazzling honor made all the classmates envious.
After her analysis, Professor McGonagall put down her needle and added to Hermione, "Add five more points for Gryffindor."
Hermione felt completely enveloped in happiness.
This bonus is completely different from that of other professors.
Professor McGonagall, the head of Gryffindor, awarded her two points in one class. This was the most precious recognition of all her efforts, making her happier than any other praise.