It was the prankster ghost — Peeves.
Unlike the pearly-white uniform glow of Hogwarts' regular ghosts, Peeves was a riot of color. He wore clothes like a clown's costume — garish, bright, and mismatched — with a crooked tie, a round hat perched at an angle, and, incongruously, a pair of open-toed slippers. His face wore an exaggerated, goofish grin.
When he spotted Vizet and Professor McGonagall, his eyes lit up. He spun midair and let out a strange honking noise.
"Wo-wo-wo! What do we have here…?"
His grin widened. "Why, it's our dear Professor McGonagall! Still dragging students around even during holidays? Oh — wait — what's this? Not a little lion, but a little eagle!"
Professor McGonagall merely sighed and shook her head. With a flick of her wand and a murmured "Reparo". The wrecked classroom around them began to mend itself — broken desks snapped back into place, shattered chalk reformed and rolled back to the ledge, and the torn parchment and debris melted away.
Once the room had returned to order, she turned her wand on Peeves and said firmly, "Kindly vacate this room. I require silence."
Peeves, undeterred, opened his mouth wide — so wide it nearly reached his ears — and bared a manic grin. His eyes sparkled with mischief.
"Ohhh? And why should I obey you, hmm?" he taunted, floating lower and swaying mockingly in front of her.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The metallic rattle of chains echoed ominously through the room.
From the shadows emerged a gaunt, haggard ghost cloaked in tattered robes stained with spectral silver blood. Shackles clinked at his wrists, and a cold silence followed in his wake.
The Bloody Baron had arrived.
His hollow eyes locked onto Peeves with a terrifying intensity. "Peeves! So this is where you've been hiding!"
"Ohhh no — Mr. Bloody Baron, sir —!" Peeves squeaked, paling instantly. "W-What a surprise! I wasn't expecting —!"
"I've come to settle accounts with you!" the Baron bellowed, shaking his chains violently as he advanced, his presence oppressive.
Peeves glanced around in panic, gave a shrill yelp, and bolted through the wall in a blur. His fading voice echoed behind him, "S-Sorry! I've got pressing ghost business elsewhere — won't bother you anymore!"
Professor McGonagall gave a small smile and raised her wand again. The Bloody Baron, his task complete, vanished at her silent command.
"Peeves is always terrified of the Bloody Baron," she said briskly, brushing the incident aside. "Now — there's not much time before you board the train, so let's begin."
Vizet, still recovering from the surprise, asked curiously, "Professor McGonagall, what is this about?"
"The end-of-term Transfiguration practical was far too easy for you," she said, flicking her wand again. A small box of chalk floated from the shelf and hovered midair.
"I'm well aware you've been studying Theory of Metamorphosis and Transformation in your spare time. My guess is you've already tried your hand at some of the more advanced transfiguration spells?"
Vizet's eyes brightened. "Professor, would you like me to demonstrate something?"
"Of course." McGonagall nodded.
Vizet turned toward the box of chalk and held his wand at the ready, thinking quickly. He had already demonstrated his vine-transfigurations, especially those derived from his studies of Devil's Snare — but that wouldn't be enough now. He needed something new.
Something more advanced.
In Theory of Metamorphosis and Transformation, Vizet had studied detailed anatomical diagrams of various animals — and now, it was time to put that knowledge to use.
He exhaled slowly, steadying his breath, then gently tapped the chalk box with his wand."Creta Animali!"
The image of a deer formed clearly in his mind. As the incantation took effect, the chalk box floated upward, trembling slightly.
The individual pieces of chalk began to lift, spinning and joining in midair. The white chalks snapped together, forming the rough outline of a skeleton.
Professor McGonagall's eyes widened slightly. She instinctively adjusted her glasses, her lips pressed together more tightly.
Everything remained under Vizet's control. The white chalk trembled like bone coming to life. Then the red chalk shattered into fragments, each shard drawn to the frame, clinging like muscle and flesh over the skeleton.
Five minutes passed in silence.
At last, a fully formed deer stood before them.
With a final flick of his wand, Vizet breathed life into the creation. The deer raised its head and sniffed the air, wide eyes blinking curiously as it looked about.
"Professor McGonagall," Vizet said, a little sheepish, "this is something I've been working on…"
"I'm still not very skilled. It takes me too long, and controlling its movements still requires conscious effort."
Professor McGonagall remained silent a moment longer, then finally spoke — her voice quiet but filled with awe. "But at its core, it's still just a box of chalk."
"You haven't forgotten what I emphasized in class — don't alter the essence of the object. That's very important… and you've remembered it well."
She stepped forward and gently placed a hand on the deer's back. To her astonishment, it even felt soft to the touch, as though covered in real fur.
"The texture… the imitation of fur… It's hard to believe this was done by a first-year."
But what astonished her even more was the animation. Vizet hadn't just transfigured an object — he'd brought it convincingly to life.
"Truly remarkable," McGonagall murmured, then found herself drifting into memory — comparing the spellwork before her with what she had accomplished at the same age.
She sighed inwardly.
But quickly composed herself. "Let's return to the matter at hand."
She straightened, and her tone became brisk again. "Professor Sprout has submitted an application to cultivate Mandrakes here at Hogwarts."
"Mandrakes?" Vizet's eyes lit up. He instantly recalled the entries on Mandragora in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.
After a full year of study, he no longer needed to flip through the book to recall its contents.
Mandrakes were notoriously dangerous magical plants — their cries could be fatal. But their uses were immense; both roots and leaves could be vital components in potion-making.
McGonagall noted his expression with a faint smile. "I can see you've done your reading."
"Fresh mandrake is rare. Aside from its value in potion-making, it also plays a key role in one very special discipline: Animagus transformation."
"Animagus?" Vizet repeated, his curiosity piqued at once.
In the library, he had found various theoretical materials on Animagi — but they were all vague, never detailing the exact process of mastering it.
"Most of the advanced texts on Animagus transformation are kept in the Restricted Section," McGonagall explained. "Ordinary students don't have access to them."
"As I've said before, Transfiguration is among the most complex and dangerous branches of magic. And Animagus magic — well, it's advanced even by those standards. The risks of failure are high."
"When Headmaster Dumbledore first asked me to mentor you, I had my reservations," she admitted. "But after what I've seen today…"
She trailed off and looked once more at the deer.
"I no longer have those worries."
"Starting next school year," she said at last, "I will use my free time to personally guide you through the first steps of becoming an Animagus."
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