When they stepped out of the Forbidden Forest, the snow on the ground had piled up thick and heavy, blanketing the whole lawn that led to the Quidditch pitch.
In the middle of all that white, Sean didn't feel bored at all; he actually found it peaceful.
The fire in the Transfiguration office melted the snowflakes that had settled on him. The tabby cat perched on the tall chair, looking at Sean with eyes full of warmth.
Even when she sensed him in her Animagus cat-slang way, all she picked up was a deep sense of closeness and kindness.
This was a young wizard that even owls were happy to linger on a little longer.
When Sean's fire salamander started scampering around the room, the tabby cat leaped down and transformed into a tall witch.
"Mr. Green, I think it's time. Follow me."
The professor, dressed in her usual black robes, left the Transfiguration office first.
Sean, wearing the same style of black robes, followed right behind her. The swirling snow dusted them both until their robes turned the same shade of white.
Quidditch practice never got canceled because of weather. Lately, the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor teams had been training the hardest.
Wood had nearly come to blows with Roger over practice slots.
The tension between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor was thick enough to cut with a knife.
Professor McGonagall didn't seem to be heading for the pitch itself. She stopped at a few stone statues along the edge of the field.
Truth is, statues are all over Hogwarts.
There are two stone boars on top of the main gates, and inside the castle you've got the one-eyed witch and plenty more.
But the spot with the most open space and the biggest cluster of statues? Definitely around the Quidditch pitch.
Seeing them, Sean had a pretty good idea what the professor was about to teach.
"When you're working with something that already has a clear image and ties to a magical creature, transfiguring it isn't too hard," Professor McGonagall said gently.
"But for things that don't seem to have any magic in them at all, wizards struggle to figure out how to use them."
Sean listened closely; he got it.
Take his own "object-to-magic" transfigurations: he could easily use a fire salamander, a fire crab, or even a snowman's magical properties. But turning a real fireplace into something alive? That was tough.
So far, he could only get a tiny part of it to hop around.
"Magic seems to favor those elements. The real test of a wizard's skill in Transfiguration comes with the parts magic doesn't care about."
Professor McGonagall flicked her wand, and the statue sprang to life.
The knight statue swung its sword through the snow a couple of times, then bowed politely to Sean.
Sean curiously rested his hand on the sword hilt. It felt cold at first, then quickly got coated in frost.
"The key is building your own magical circuit. Give it a try, my boy."
Professor McGonagall's voice stayed gentle, but her eyes sparkled with anticipation.
She didn't mention how challenging it is to create a wizard's own magical circuit from scratch.
Sean waved his wand. The huge statue lifted its arm a little… and that was it.
Sean fell deep into thought. Magical creatures really did give elements a concrete form.
Take a fire salamander: wizards know exactly how magic flows inside it, how it moves, and—most importantly—they're certain flames can come alive in that shape.
Clear intent, firm belief, strong will.
A fire salamander checked most of those boxes by itself.
So how was he supposed to make a stone statue move?
He was still mulling it over the next day during Transfiguration practice.
The answer, of course, was to imagine the statue as a living magical creature—and then build the flow of magic for that creature.
The knight statue shuddered again under his wand.
Sean failed once more.
Creating a magical circuit out of thin air was just too hard.
Professor McGonagall watched without blinking, not even distracted by the noisy Quidditch practice nearby.
It wasn't often she saw a young wizard this stumped…
Building your own magical circuit was a crucial step—it made the wizard believe it was possible. So Professor McGonagall waited patiently.
Even for gifted wizards, this usually took two or three months.
Over the next few days, Sean practiced non-stop. Luckily:
[You practiced an advanced Transfiguration spell at beginner level. Proficiency +10]
[You practiced an advanced Transfiguration spell at beginner level. Proficiency +10]
[You practiced an advanced Transfiguration spell at proficient level. Proficiency +30]
Inspiration came and went, but the system panel made it real.
Sean kept comparing, and his progress shot up.
When he got exhausted, he'd shrink into a black cat.
The tired wizard was Sean; the black cat didn't care.
In cat form, he focused on mastering his body. Now he could slip through the crack under the Transfiguration office door.
It was a gloomy, slightly tense Tuesday.
Tomorrow was the Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff Quidditch match.
The pitch was booked solid for practice, but outside the stadium…
[You practiced an advanced Transfiguration spell at expert level. Proficiency +1000]
The stone plinth moved exactly how Sean wanted. It was only three feet tall, but it was enough to get him pumped.
"Incredible progress, my boy!"
Professor McGonagall stood in the snow. After the usual shock, she couldn't help but beam with pride.
By then, Sean—sensing he was about to run out of magic—had already turned into the black cat.
A notebook slipped off his neck and floated up on its own:
[Yes, Professor]
"What a clever invention…"
Professor McGonagall clearly hadn't expected that.
A quill scribbled on the floating notebook while the black cat sitting in the snow gave a tiny nod.
When the words faded, the notebook and quill drifted back to the cat's neck and turned into a small pendant.
Professor McGonagall glanced at her wrist—she'd only just realized the gift Sean gave her yesterday was a necklace?
[It automatically detaches during transformation and reattaches to the wizard]
Sean explained with true craftsman pride.
In the snow, a cat demonstrating his invention—it was all Professor McGonagall could do to keep from smiling.
The mood around the edge of the pitch was light, but inside the stadium it was a whole different story.
"Beat Hufflepuff, then crush Gryffindor!"
Roger stood on a bench in the Ravenclaw changing room, pumping his fist.
"For the first time in seven years, we're gonna wipe the floor with Ravenclaw! We'll give it everything—make Professor McGonagall proud!"
Wood roared from the Gryffindor changing room just down the hall, arms raised high.