"A truly perfect button, and… brimming with Slytherin flair," Professor McGonagall commented, her tone measured. Sean caught the faint arch of her brow, suggesting she wasn't entirely thrilled with the emerald-studded, silver design. A gold button with a ruby, Gryffindor's colors, might've earned extra praise, but Sean knew better. Crafting something so blatantly un-Slytherin would've sparked whispers among his peers, and he wasn't keen on stirring that cauldron this early in the term.
McGonagall lifted Sean's button, inspecting it closely. Her sharp eyes traced the delicate snake pattern etched along the edge, a subtle nod to Slytherin's emblem. "Ten points for Slytherin," she declared, her voice carrying across the classroom.
Sean bit back a grin. If only Professor Snape could take a page from McGonagall's book on fairness, Slytherin's House points might not feel like such a gamble. Not that he'd ever voice that thought—respect for his Head of House was one thing, but avoiding Snape's piercing glare was quite another.
"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," Sean said, dipping his head.
"You've earned it," she replied, placing the button back in his hand. Her expression shifted, a glint of challenge in her eyes. "But, Sean, can you transform it further?"
Sean blinked, caught off guard, but nodded. "What should it become, Professor?"
"First, a card," McGonagall said, her tone crisp. "Can you manage that?"
"Absolutely," Sean replied, his confidence buoyed by the morning's good news—his mother's pregnancy and the return of his enchanted shield and chain-mace.
He set the button on the desk, raising his wand. With a precise flick, he murmured the incantation. The button spun, shimmering, and reshaped into a playing card—a King, depicting a young wizard wreathed by a coiling white snake, its scales glinting like moonlight. The design echoed Kurkan, his trusted companion, and Sean couldn't help but smile.
"A snake," McGonagall said, her voice now carrying a hint of expectation.
Sean waved his wand again, the motion fluid. The card fluttered, as if caught in a breeze, then stretched and twisted, morphing from tail to head into a small silver snake. Blaise, seated beside him, gaped, his own beetle-to-button attempt forgotten. The snake was a near-perfect replica of Kurkan, down to the sleek curve of its scales. It slithered onto Sean's hand, wrapping gently around his fingers, its movements playful yet precise.
McGonagall's stern face softened, a rare look of approval flickering across her features. But she wasn't done. "Sean, now transform it into a box—as ornate as you can make it, and the larger, the better. Give it your all."
Sean's heart quickened. This was no simple task—it was a test of his limits. He stood, wand steady, and pointed at the snake. With a sweeping arc above his head, he channeled his magic. The snake sprang from his hand, landing on the floor in a swirl of silver-green light. It coiled, forming a vortex, but didn't shift into a box right away. Instead, it grew, expanding from the size of a fist to that of a human head. Sean's brow furrowed, his wand hand trembling slightly as he poured focus into the spell.
Transfiguration was a complex art. Turning a living creature into an inanimate object, like a beetle into a button, was challenging but manageable. Transforming an inanimate object into a living creature, however, required infusing it with a spark of life essence—a feat far beyond most second-years. Size changes, like the one McGonagall now demanded, were another hurdle. A small stone could become a mouse with ease, but scaling it to a tiger—or shrinking a tree to a needle—demanded exceptional skill. Sean's Transfiguration LV2 allowed him to handle living-to-inanimate shifts and basic size adjustments, but large-scale transformations pushed his limits, teetering on the edge of Transfiguration LV3.
He thought of the masters—Voldemort's fire-turned-serpent, Dumbledore's water dungeon—feats of elemental Transfiguration that even McGonagall hadn't fully mastered. Those were far beyond him, but this box was within reach, if only he could hold his focus.
Professor McGonagall's mastery of Transfiguration was legendary. At Transfiguration LV4, she wielded spells that most wizards could only dream of. Her Animagus form—a sleek tabby cat—showcased her ability to shift between living creatures, a feat of extraordinary skill. Even more impressive was her power to animate Hogwarts' stone statues, infusing them with life essence to transform them into guardian statues during times of need. Only one step separated her from Transfiguration LV5, the pinnacle of elemental Transfiguration, where masters like Voldemort and Dumbledore reshaped fire and water into living forms. Sean watched her with awe, knowing he was far from such heights but determined to climb.
The silver-green vortex on the classroom floor pulsed, its whooshing hum filling the air. Sean's wand trembled as he pushed his magic to its limits, urging the vortex to grow. It swelled to the size of a pumpkin, then froze, shimmering as it solidified into a silver-white box adorned with gleaming emeralds. The ornate design echoed Slytherin's flair, its surface etched with subtle serpentine patterns. Sean exhaled, steadying his hand. He could've cheated—crafted a small box and enlarged it with a charm—but McGonagall's test demanded pure Transfiguration skill. No shortcuts allowed.
McGonagall's stern face softened, a rare smile curving her lips. She studied the box, her eyes tracing its craftsmanship. "Very good Transfiguration," she said, her voice warm with approval. "For your age, it's near perfect." She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Come to me after class, Sean. I have something to discuss."
Sean nodded, a spark of curiosity igniting. McGonagall turned to inspect the other students' work, her robes swishing. Many had completed their beetle-to-button transformations, their desks cluttered with buttons of varying quality—some plain, others flashy but flawed. With Sean's display setting the bar, earning extra House points would be tough unless someone outdid his emerald-studded box. Blaise, still wrestling with his beetle, shot Sean a mock glare, as if blaming him for raising the stakes.
Sean waved his wand, gently reversing the spell. The box shimmered, shrinking back into the weary beetle, its tiny legs twitching from the strain of repeated transformations. He noticed its exhaustion and carefully placed it back in its clear box, whispering, "Rest up, little one." The beetle scuttled to a corner, seemingly grateful. Sean slid into the seat beside Blaise, who was muttering under his breath as his button stubbornly refused to take shape.
"Need a hand?" Sean asked, grinning.
Blaise sighed, poking his beetle with his wand. "You make it look easy, mate. What's the trick?"
Sean leaned in, offering pointers on wand movement, his mind still on McGonagall's words. Last term, she'd urged him to practice Transfiguration over the holidays, warning him not to slack. He'd taken her advice seriously, honing his skills in the Muggle world and at Beauxbatons under Aldridge Brown's guidance. Today's test—button to card to snake to box—had been her way of gauging his progress. He'd passed with flying colors, and her request to meet after class likely meant an invitation to her Transfiguration club, a prestigious group for gifted students. The thought thrilled him, though he wondered how it'd fit with his Slytherin Brotherhood duties and his pursuit of Tom Riddle's diary.
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Author's Note:
Please collect, vote, and read on!