His awareness surpasses that of his peers, which is probably why he was able to withstand the bursts of magic he experienced as a child and control his magic as a Transfiguration superpower.
Of course, this is something I can't explain to anyone, so I'll just have to accept being called a genius!
After lunch, Herman reflected on his morning's experiences on his way back to his dormitory, deciding to maintain the same level of focus in all future practice sessions.
Since we've got a fast start thanks to the cheat code, let's keep it going and not waste it.
Draco walked beside him, repeatedly demonstrating the wrist movements of the Levitation Charm while muttering incantations.
Harry trailed a few steps behind, her hands in her school uniform pockets, her gait languid, her eyes darting around, lost in thought.
As Herman pushed open the stone door to the common room, he had already mentally reviewed the day's lessons.
The physical nature of the Transfiguration, the change in the state of the spell, the various details of the spellcasting described by Flitwick, and the warm touch on the inside of Draco's wrist and the faint fragrance on her body.
Something strange seemed to have infiltrated his mind, and Herman quickly pulled the last thought out of his head.
The lunch break isn't long, but it's enough to make you drift off into a dream.
Herman lay on his four-poster bed in the Slytherin dormitory, the lake above him shimmering with the green light of the afternoon sun, the ripples casting dark patterns on his face. He had only intended to close his eyes for a moment, but as soon as he did, his consciousness seemed to be pulled downwards by something.
In my dream, it was Charms classroom.
The sunlight, the feathers, the warm yellow dappled light on the wooden floor—everything was exactly the same as this morning.
But Draco stood in front of him, so close that he could see the tiny glimmer of light on the tip of her eyelashes.
He was still holding her hand, his palm warm and soft, but when he looked down, he found that his hand had moved from her wrist to her palm, their fingertips intertwined, their fingers entwined, and it was impossible to tell who had intertwined first.
Draco looked up at him, her cheeks flushed slightly, her lips moved slightly, but she didn't say anything.
The sunlight in her dream was more intense than in reality, streaming in through the window and turning her loose blonde hair into an almost melting honey color.
Herman felt himself leaning closer to her, close enough to see the faint silver-gray lines around the edge of her pupils, close enough for her warm breath to brush against his lips, carrying a sweet and soft scent.
Then the scene changed, becoming more exciting, and even began to evoke Herman's movie-watching experience from his previous life.
The fireplace in the common room glowed with a silvery-blue light, and a dark green velvet armchair sat beside him. Draco sat on his lap, the collar of her school robe slightly loose, the fragrance of her hair much stronger, as if steamed from the fireplace, filling the space between them.
Herman's hand rested on her waist, and through the thin fabric, he could feel the slight curve of her waistline. Her chin rested on his shoulder, her lips close to the edge of his ear, her voice soft and gentle, as if she were speaking through a cotton ball. He couldn't hear a word she said, but he felt that small patch of skin burning from her breath, the heat spreading downwards and sinking deep into his abdomen.
Herman suddenly opened his eyes.
The lake water overhead was still flowing slowly, and light patterns slid across the dome again and again, just like before I fell asleep.
He lay on the bed, staring blankly at the green ceiling for several seconds, his heart pounding in his chest as if he had just run 800 meters, his ears burning hot enough to fry an egg.
He slowly propped himself up and sat up, looking down at himself. The collar of his robe was slightly crooked, but otherwise everything was normal.
The blanket was neatly covering him; thankfully, the dream ended in time, so he didn't need to change his clothes or the blanket. The whole room was as quiet as a deep well, with only his own breathing rising and falling in his ears.
Herman raised his hand to rub his temples and let out a long breath.
What's this? Prematurely mature at such a young age? Having such detailed erotic dreams, even describing temperature, touch, and smell—is that even scientifically possible?
No, strictly speaking, that's not very scientific.
According to the normal physiological development process, even if someone eats well, grows quickly, and is tall, they shouldn't suddenly skip grades to this extent.
Although the soul belongs to an adult, the body's various activities are actually influenced by hormones, and hormone secretion is closely related to physical development. This means that the common saying that the smaller head controls the larger head has a scientific basis.
Therefore, Herman felt that this dream was somewhat illogical, and that his testosterone levels shouldn't be so high.
Herman sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers unconsciously tapping twice on his knees.
Then he realized that he was analyzing the problem using scientific thinking again.
A person who can turn matches into silver needles with a thought wakes up in a school with flying brooms and talking hats, and the first thing he does is question whether his dream conforms to physiological laws.
This won't do; it will affect your learning of magic. You need to get rid of your brain. It would be best to find Pensieve and store your brain inside it.
He shook his head, trying to shake off the drowsiness and the lingering warmth of the dream, but he couldn't.
The light on Draco's eyelashes, the fine downy hairs along the edge of her earlobes, the soft and warm touch of her palms—these things stubbornly clung to my mind, like ink seeping into a page, leaving a faint shadow no matter how much I wiped it away.
Herman stood up and walked to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room.
The mirror reflected the face of a black-haired boy. His features hadn't fully developed yet, and his chin had the rounded lines typical of a teenager. He was about 1.5 meters tall when standing upright.
He turned to the side to estimate his own height, and the image of Harry standing in the hallway flashed through his mind as he began to compare.
No, if they stood up straight and compared, he would probably be a finger or two shorter than Harry.
So his physical development wasn't particularly fast. In terms of height, he was probably around the average height of his peers, maybe a little taller.
Where did this dream come from? Could it be that the transmigrator's soul is too profound, making even their dreams more mature than others?
Herman stared at himself in the mirror for a while, then finally decided to give up on thinking about the problem.
Whether it's science or magic, this matter probably can't be explained with a simple answer.
He patted his cheeks, dispelling the last trace of his dazed state, and turned to change into the robe he would wear for his afternoon classes.
The first day at Hogwarts was packed with classes: Transfiguration and Charms in the morning, and Herbology in the afternoon.
The Herbology class was held in a greenhouse on the south side of the castle, and the row of glass-domed buildings could be seen across a neatly manicured lawn.
Herman arrived rather late; Draco and Harry were already standing at the greenhouse entrance.
Draco was standing on tiptoe, peering into the greenhouse, her golden ponytail swinging behind her head.
As soon as Herman's gaze fell on her profile, all those images that had been thrown out of his mind rushed back in.
He immediately looked away, pretending to observe the shape of the potted plant at the greenhouse entrance. Draco heard footsteps, turned around and glanced at him. Their eyes met briefly in the air, then looked away simultaneously like two startled cats.