Despite the strange results, Professor McGonagall quickly offered a professional explanation. "Wyzett, you've already gained insight into your soul through the Patronus Charm."
"That's extraordinarily rare—perhaps even unprecedented. Very few wizards your age have any true understanding of their soul."
"And even fewer attempt Animagus training so young… You're quite the exception!"
"So that's it." Wyzett nodded, seeing his theory confirmed by her words.
It was a process of learning and feedback: he'd acquired new knowledge, formed a hypothesis, and now the professor's explanation had verified his guess. It proved he wasn't just memorizing facts, but truly applying what he'd learned.
He continued, "Since I already understand my soul, the Mandrake leaf no longer serves as protection for it. Instead, it seems to nourish my soul…"
"Exactly!" Professor McGonagall nodded, her thoughts echoing his.
"Professor, does this mean I need a new approach?" Wyzett asked. "Should I rebuild some defenses outside my soul—to make it seem like I'm still unfamiliar with it?"
"Rebuild defenses outside your soul?" McGonagall blinked. "Have you learned Occlumency from Professor Snape?"
Wyzett shook his head. "No, it was Mr. Aberforth Dumbledore. He taught me a simple introductory method. Once I'd grasped that, he started teaching me Occlumency itself. I'm still practicing."
"Aberforth…" McGonagall adjusted her glasses, surprise flickering in her voice.
She hadn't expected Dumbledore to entrust Aberforth with teaching the soul labyrinth. There was so much unspoken history between the Dumbledore brothers—so many tangled grievances. For them to agree on something like this…
At least one thing was clear: Wyzett's identity as an Obscurial had played a key role.
Of course, with a polite, eager-to-learn student like Wyzett—even if Aberforth grumbled, he'd still pour out everything he knew, making sure Wyzett mastered the soul labyrinth in full.
With that thought, McGonagall removed her hairnet and waved her wand, causing the quill that had been scribbling furiously to freeze in place.
She'd meant to finish next week's lesson plans before bed. Now, sleep was out of the question—at least until she helped Wyzett solve this puzzle and keep his Animagus progress on track.
Snape hadn't failed, Aberforth hadn't failed, and she certainly wasn't about to be the weak link! In that moment, her indomitable Gryffindor spirit blazed to life.
Back in the Astronomy Tower, Wyzett restored his soul labyrinth and used his growing skill in Occlumency to fortify his soul's defenses.
He summoned a few more Mandrake leaves and tried again.
This time, he sank his awareness into the labyrinth. The Mandrake leaf drifted at the maze's outer edge, unable to enter.
Just as Wyzett thought he'd finally advanced past the first step, the Mandrake leaf erupted in dazzling light.
As if guided by invisible hands, it darted through the labyrinth, somehow slipping inside once more.
The familiar sequence repeated: merging with the sprout, growing, flourishing, then withering and dissolving away…
The Mandrake leaf in his mouth vanished, becoming that now-familiar, grassy-tasting liquid that seeped into his body.
Professor McGonagall observed the entire process, muttering, "How peculiar…"
Wyzett frowned. "Professor, what just happened?"
"Moonlight was drawn to you—gathered around your body," McGonagall replied, brow furrowing. "It must have been the Mandrake's doing."
"The notes mention something like that," Wyzett nodded. "So, the environment that should help an Animagus transformation… actually works against me?"
"Exactly." McGonagall's expression softened, nodding in agreement.
Wyzett had clearly mastered the Animagus notes—he could piece things together on his own, even without a full explanation.
He asked, "Professor, maybe… I should try somewhere less clear? Would that help?"
"That's right, but there's no need to move," McGonagall said, raising her wand. "We just need to tweak the weather a bit."
She glanced at Wyzett. "Do you have enough Mandrake leaves? Should we fetch more from the greenhouse?"
Wyzett shook his head. "Professor Sprout gave me plenty, and I have a Mandrake of my own that hasn't been repotted yet—I can use leaves from it, too."
"Then let's proceed!" McGonagall rolled up her sleeves, her expression growing even more determined as she gripped her wand.
Wyzett nodded, slipping another leaf into his mouth.
This time, he kept his attention on the distant night sky instead of plunging into the soul labyrinth.
If McGonagall was about to conjure clouds, she'd need to use a particularly complex form of weather magic—a spell at least as advanced as those in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Newt Scamander himself had mastered such spells, expanding his enchanted suitcase with a myriad of magical habitats: a steamy rainforest for Nifflers, a sun-baked savanna for Erumpents, and even a snowy realm for an Obscurus.
McGonagall pointed her wand skyward, moving it in graceful, deliberate arcs as if coaxing the weather itself.
Within moments, drifting clouds gathered and merged, forming a thick, dark mass that swallowed the moon.
Wyzett activated his Oculus Magicae, determined not to miss this chance to observe weather magic up close.
The spectacle was as breathtaking as The Starry Night, but with a key difference: a swirling vortex appeared above, pulling wispy clouds inward and weaving them together.
Clearly, that vortex was the magical signature of McGonagall's spell, drawing clouds from all around.
"Today really is too clear—unseasonably fine weather," McGonagall remarked, arm still raised as she kept the sky shrouded in cloud. "Try again now, Wyzett."
He nodded, picked up another Mandrake leaf, and placed it in his mouth.
This time, the leaf drifted even longer, though the gathering light was sluggish—almost hesitant.
Just then, a familiar voice drifted in: "What a remarkable sight. It seems you could use a little assistance?"
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