In the Headmaster's office, after Harry left, Professor McGonagall stood to excuse herself, mentioning she needed to prepare for the afternoon's Transfiguration lesson.
As Snape moved to leave, Dumbledore stopped him. "Severus, what's your impression of Lucien Grafton? He's been in your class, hasn't he?"
Snape froze for a moment before regaining his composure. "He's quite gifted in Potions," he said coolly. "And… humble, I suppose."
---
In the Great Hall, with some time before class, Lucien sat at a long table with a group of students.
Soon, someone with sharp eyes spotted their target. "Oi, look! Harry's back!"
Lucien glanced over and saw Harry striding in, chest puffed out, steps full of swagger—like a king returning triumphant.
Didn't he just get called in for a talking-to? Why's he acting like he won a prize?
"Harry, you alright? What'd the teachers say?" someone asked eagerly.
Harry laid it all out: his punishment included docking fifty points from Gryffindor, wiping out their house points for the week.
Silence fell. A beat or two passed.
Then—"Woo! We won!"
"Gryffindor's beaten Slytherin again!"
"The teachers gave him a punishment—that's as good as a badge of honor!"
The older Gryffindors erupted into cheers.
The first-years, still clueless about what was going on, just blinked.
Students from other houses, lingering to watch the drama, weren't surprised. They knew how Gryffindors operated.
The Slytherins, who'd been hoping for a good laugh, scoffed and stalked off.
Lucien, initially thrown by the sudden uproar, pieced it together after a moment. In the Gryffindor mindset, Harry taking down Malfoy was basically Gryffindor trouncing Slytherin.
And the punishment? Well, in some twisted way, it was like official validation.
Lucien shook his head. Gryffindor and Slytherin were practically sworn enemies. House points and the House Cup were secondary—nothing beat seeing the other side squirm.
Sure enough, the Weasley twins hoisted Harry up like he was a shiny new lion cub fresh off the assembly line.
---
That afternoon, Lucien arrived at the Transfiguration classroom.
As expected, perched on the teacher's desk was a tabby cat with distinctive spectacle-like markings around its eyes.
Lucien gave a polite nod to Professor McGonagall's Animagus form and took a seat.
Is she just fond of being a cat, or is this her traditional flex to show off Transfiguration's wonders to first-years?
He glanced around. The class was a mix of Ravenclaws and Slytherins.
Even as the lesson drew near, no one dared approach the desk to pet the cat.
Fair enough, Lucien thought. Probably only a Hufflepuff with a soft spot for animals or a daring Gryffindor "hero" would try stroking it before their first Transfiguration class.
The bell rang, and the tabby cat leapt off the desk, transforming midair into Professor McGonagall, clad in her deep green robes.
Gasps filled the room as students saw a cat turn into their professor.
Terry, sitting next to Lucien, gaped. "Lucien, did you see that? What kind of magic is that? It's brilliant!"
"Animagus," Lucien explained casually. "A wizard who can transform into an animal. It's the pinnacle of Transfiguration."
He mulled over what he knew about Animagi. It was a form of human transfiguration, allowing the wizard to retain their magical abilities in animal form. But transforming into magical creatures was strictly forbidden in the wizarding world, and an Animagus could only take one animal form.
"Transfiguration is a complex and potentially dangerous subject," McGonagall began, her voice firm. "It's a branch of magic you'll work with often, but it demands precision and focus. Anyone who disrupts my class will be shown the door."
As Hogwarts' Deputy Headmistress and Gryffindor's Head of House, her stern tone had every student sitting up straight.
"But," she added, softening slightly, "Transfiguration can also be immensely rewarding."
With a flick of her wand, she pointed at the desk, which morphed into a plump pig that flapped its ears.
The students' eyes lit up, captivated by the magic's allure.
Pleased with their reactions, McGonagall nodded and began the lesson.
Tap, tap, tap—
"Sorry, Professor," came a voice. "We just came from the hospital wing."
A bandaged student limped in on crutches, his head wrapped, right arm and left leg in casts. Two tall, stocky boys trailed behind, ready to catch him if he fell.
"Malfoy, you don't need to rush back to class. You should rest in the hospital wing," McGonagall said, frowning slightly. She recalled Snape mentioning Malfoy would take time off to recover.
Malfoy raised his chin. "Professor, Harry Potter was volunteering in the hospital wing and happened to be looking after me. He offered a very sincere, humble, heartfelt apology. I'm feeling quite well enough to attend class now."
Lucien stared, dumbfounded, as Malfoy spoke as if the bandages and casts didn't exist.
Is he here to learn or to brag that Harry had to play nurse and apologize?
A sincere, humble, heartfelt apology? What is this, a reading comprehension test?
Lucien had an epiphany. Old Dumbledore, you were right—love really is the most powerful magic. (Or so he thought, with a smirk.)
McGonagall directed Malfoy and his escorts to their seats and resumed the lesson.
After covering basic theory, she set the students to work.
Their task: turn a matchstick into a needle.
This was the simplest form of Transfiguration—dead object to dead object.
The progression went from simple to complex: dead to living, living to dead, and finally, living to living, with the latter being exponentially harder due to the need to suppress a creature's consciousness.
Even this basic task stumped most of the class.
Terry poked his matchstick repeatedly with his wand until it turned silver—at least it looked like a needle.
Malfoy, struggling with his non-dominant hand, managed to make his matchstick spark and burn out, forcing him to grab a new one.
They were doing better than most. Many students' matchsticks didn't change at all.
Lucien raised his wand and tapped his matchstick.
A soft glow flickered, and the matchstick became a sleek silver needle.
He tapped it again.
The needle's surface began to hollow out, forming intricate patterns like a piece of art.
Still, Lucien wasn't satisfied. Basic dead-to-dead Transfiguration had two extreme paths: changing an object's properties—like turning a rock into an explosive barrel—or crafting complex mechanical structures, requiring precise, delicate magical control.
Following his instincts, Lucien visualized the shape in his mind, letting magic flow through his wand to reshape the needle.
Seconds later, the needle transformed into a tiny, ornate telescope.
It clicked and whirred, extending and retracting on its own.
Lucien reached for it to test if it actually worked or was just decorative.
As his fingers brushed the brass casing—
[Ding! Congratulations, Host, for triggering a loan.]
[Loan Name: Mechanical Transfiguration Pocket Watch]
[Description: It has every function except telling time.]