October was nearly over, swept away by howling winds and rain. November loomed, and Hogwarts felt as cold as iron. Each morning brought a layer of frost, with icy winds stinging hands and cheeks.
The sky and the Great Hall's enchanted ceiling turned a pale blue-gray. Snow capped the surrounding mountains, and the castle's temperature plummeted. During breaks in the corridors, many students wore thick dragonhide gloves.
Sean stood outside a classroom, his breath visible in the chilly air. He gave the door a light knock.
"Mr. Green, I've told you countless times, no need to knock. Come in, dear," a warm voice called from inside.
Sean pushed the door open. Despite Professor McGonagall's insistence, he wasn't about to change his habit. Personal space was sacred, and having a key didn't mean he could barge in.
Inside, the fireplace blazed cheerfully.
Lately, Professor McGonagall had been swamped, perched on a tall chair, tirelessly grading assignments or dealing with students' missteps. It was as if she was planning something big.
"Transforming the 'self' into a 'living creature' requires great caution, Mr. Green," she said. "Today, we'll focus on turning objects into 'magic'."
She paused her grading, waved her wand, and in an instant, flames roared out of the fireplace, nearly licking Sean's face. With another flick, the fire shaped itself into a lizard and scurried back to the hearth.
"This advanced Transfiguration demands stronger will and higher magical control," she explained. "Most importantly, when you infuse an object with magic, you must believe it already has magic."
Her words echoed notes Sean had studied, deepening his understanding.
"Today, you'll learn to infuse the fireplace flames with that 'magic'," she continued, her expression softening.
After all, this student had memorized her two notebooks and read three Transfiguration textbooks in just three weeks. She'd never seen Sean empty-handed in the corridors. Most sixth-years would struggle to finish one book in that time.
Curious, Sean leaned toward the fireplace. The flames flared suddenly, making him jump back.
He clutched a notebook, its pages slightly yellowed by the firelight. It read: Clear intent, unwavering belief, sufficient willpower—the core of Transfiguration, as McGonagall's notes emphasized.
Sean waved his wand. At the "Expert" level, Transfiguration didn't require incantations. This level was typical for adult wizards, though some advanced students might reach it—rarely.
The flames danced more vividly as he waved his wand. Following the notebook's guidance, Sean imagined them taking a dancing form and coaxed them out of the hearth.
It was surprisingly easy.
[You practiced Advanced Transfiguration at Apprentice level. Proficiency +30]
[You practiced Advanced Transfiguration at Apprentice level. Proficiency +30]
Soon, Sean could make a small flame flicker in time with his wand. It was just a spark, but Professor McGonagall beamed.
"Excellent, Mr. Green. Now, try controlling more flames," she said, clearly pleased.
Leaving the Transfiguration classroom, Sean knew he'd stepped halfway into the realm of advanced Transfiguration. He was far from Professor McGonagall's fire-lizard mastery, but it was a solid start.
As she'd said, "Most wizards can't get the flames to react at all on their first try. It takes at least a month of practice to manage that."
Sean suspected his success tied to his title:
[Title: Master of Transfiguration]
[Greatly enhances unique perception in the field of Transfiguration from non-magic to magic]
This knack helped him find the trick to making the flames obey.
As he left, the classroom still glowed with firelight.
With a wave of McGonagall's wand, a drawer morphed into a small pig, which gracefully handed her an envelope stuffed with thick parchment. Her expression softened further as she looked at it.
In the corridor, Sean, wearing thick gloves, tugged his scarf higher to better read his notes. The black-covered notebook's first page was filled with warnings—Professor Flitwick's notes on Dark Magic.
Dark Magic made Dumbledore uneasy, but that didn't mean Sean would avoid it entirely. As Flitwick had said, "Dark Magic is like a blade. Those with ill intent wield it cruelly, but its use depends on the caster's purpose."
One reason to study it was how quickly Dark Magic skills grew—after all, the more spells a wizard knew, the stronger they became. Another was that Flitwick himself was guiding Sean's Dark Magic studies.
"Remarkable! Such astonishing talent…" Flitwick muttered, pacing the Charms classroom. "Oh, I'll have to keep an eye on this one… Good thing it's young Green."
He restored books Sean had blasted across the room, supervising every practice session closely.
[You practiced the Repelling Charm at Expert level. Proficiency +50]
[You practiced the Repelling Charm at Master level. Proficiency +300]
"See you, Professor," Sean said as the sun set, leaving the Charms classroom. In the corridor, he quietly opened his panel:
[You are a rare genius in Dark Magic. It embraces you. You are a born king of Dark Magic.]
He skimmed past the melodramatic fluff.
[Repelling Charm: Expert Level (10/30,000)]
At Expert level, the Repelling Charm was instantaneous and silent. Paired with the versatile Levitation Charm, Sean's combat skills surprised even Flitwick. Underestimate him, and even an adult wizard might take a fall.
"Filius, a troubling talent, isn't it?" an old voice echoed in the classroom.
"But a reassuring wizard," Flitwick replied, his mustache twitching upward.
The old wizard beside him didn't disagree, only nodding slightly.