Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office.
Professor McGonagall sat across the desk, talking animatedly about Lucien.
Facing her was an old man with silver-white hair and beard, half-moon spectacles perched on his nose, and bright blue eyes twinkling behind them.
Albus Dumbledore.
"…He might just be the most gifted child in Transfiguration I've ever seen," McGonagall said.
"He's incredibly studious, not at all like the usual mischief-makers his age…"
After listening to McGonagall's glowing report, Dumbledore chuckled softly.
"Minerva, from the sound of it, this Lucien is quite the talent, especially in Transfiguration."
"It seems Hogwarts is about to welcome another exceptional student."
Dumbledore was mildly surprised at first. It was rare for McGonagall to speak so extensively about a student—especially one who hadn't even started at Hogwarts yet.
But Dumbledore, having lived over a century and taught at Hogwarts for decades, had seen countless so-called prodigies. Some shone brightly in their fields, while others faded into obscurity.
So, he didn't pay too much mind to this Lucien at first.
Besides, this was the year Harry Potter, the prophesied "Chosen One," would start at Hogwarts. Most of Dumbledore's attention and energy were focused on him.
With a casual flick of his wand, Dumbledore conjured a plate of Cockroach Clusters and two glasses of honey water.
McGonagall, feeling a bit parched from talking, picked up the honey water and took a sip.
She grimaced and set it down.
Too sweet.
"There's more, Albus. When I saw Lucien use Transfiguration…"
"Beyond the usual transformations, he somehow managed to conjure a magical creature—a Billywig."
McGonagall leaned forward, her tone serious as she asked Dumbledore, "Have you ever seen anything like that?"
At her question, Dumbledore's hand paused mid-reach for the Cockroach Clusters. He adjusted his glasses, his expression turning grave.
A master of Transfiguration himself, Dumbledore understood the weight of McGonagall's words.
Transfiguration involving magical creatures?
He had never witnessed such a thing.
Mastering existing knowledge quickly and innovating later could mark someone as a genius.
But to display an unknown talent from the start?
That might be beyond the realm of genius.
Dumbledore's initial impression of Lucien shifted. He needed to reassess this boy.
"Minerva, please keep a close eye on Lucien going forward."
"A student with such extraordinary talent needs proper guidance."
A faint sigh escaped him, as if he were recalling another student from long ago.
"For now, write to Lucien. Tell him not to experiment with magical creature Transfiguration—it's dangerous."
McGonagall nodded solemnly.
A child this gifted couldn't be allowed to stumble into reckless experiments.
She even considered visiting him in person to explain the risks more clearly.
…
Grafton Manor.
Lucien stood in his bedroom, wand in his right hand, a copy of Beginner's Guide to Charms in his left.
He pointed his wand at a pile of broken ceramic shards on the floor, giving his wrist a slight flick.
"Reparo!"
The shards flew together, forming a complete teapot as the cracks vanished, like a film played in reverse.
"Hm, simple enough. Next one."
Lucien flipped through the book, diving into the next charm.
After merging with Loki's Faceless essence, his aptitude for white magic had soared to S-rank.
Learning basic charms like these was child's play.
The teapot floated into the air, then had its surface cleaned of stains, then zoomed into Lucien's hand…
Tap, tap, tap!
Lucien turned toward the sound.
A snowy white owl perched outside his window, a letter clutched in its beak.
Instead of walking over to open the window, Lucien pointed his wand.
"Alohomora!"
The window swung open, and the owl flapped inside.
Lucien glanced at his wand and chuckled softly.
Magic was so convenient.
One little wand could do so much.
He took the letter from the owl and opened it.
Seeing the signature, he raised an eyebrow.
"Professor McGonagall?"
---
Lucien Grafton,
I've discussed your abilities with Headmaster Dumbledore, and it's clear you're exceptionally talented, particularly in Transfiguration.
Having purchased so many books, I'm sure you're already diving into magical studies.
Regarding Transfiguration, I must urge you not to attempt transforming magical creatures. This is extremely dangerous and has no clear precedent in the wizarding world.
If you wish to explore Transfiguration further, you can seek me out once you arrive at Hogwarts.
I had considered visiting you again to discuss this in person, but preparations for new students have kept me busy.
Still, I trust you're not the reckless sort who'd dabble in dangerous magic on purpose.
---
The letter was short, and Lucien read it quickly.
In essence: transforming magical creatures was dangerous, and he shouldn't try it.
No clear precedent?
A new frontier in Transfiguration?
Lucien frowned. He hadn't forgotten his deal with Loki's Faceless essence—to master Transfiguration perfectly within a year. That meant not just learning existing techniques but pioneering new ones.
McGonagall said she'd discussed it with Dumbledore, who hadn't seen magical creature Transfiguration either.
So, this could be an uncharted area of Transfiguration—one that might fulfill his deal with Loki.
But that time in Ollivanders, when he instinctively conjured something resembling a Billywig… how had he stumbled into such advanced magic?
Lucien had read A Guide to Fantastic Beasts and recognized the creature he'd transformed matched a Billywig's appearance and shape-shifting traits.
McGonagall's warning only confirmed his suspicions.
Raising his wand, Lucien listened to the faint, mocking chuckle emanating from it.
Loki?
With Loki's magical aptitude—especially his SSS-rank Transfiguration talent—that accidental Billywig transformation was likely tied to Loki's influence.
Magical creatures…
Lucien's mind drifted to myths of Loki's bizarre offspring: the giant wolf Fenrir, the world-serpent Jörmungandr, the eight-legged horse Sleipnir.
Could it be… those creatures were created through Loki's Transfiguration?