Before long, all the students had arrived. Then something happened that left every jaw hanging—some even turned beet red after realizing they had just called the cat "cute" out loud.
Right before their eyes, the cat transformed into Professor McGonagall. Watching her shift back into human form only fueled their desire to learn magic. Some Ravenclaws were already thinking about running to the library to find more books on the subject.
McGonagall, who had just returned to her human shape, turned her sharp gaze toward Noah. "Mr. Gray, may I ask how you knew it was me?"
Noah smiled. "I wasn't absolutely certain. But two things gave you away."
McGonagall tilted her head, curious, waiting for him to continue.
Noah rubbed his cheek before speaking. "First, your eyes. Exactly the same—serious, judging, sharp."
A few students chuckled, but under McGonagall's piercing stare they quickly shut their mouths.
"And the second?" she asked.
Noah hesitated, then said, "Well, several students tried to play with you—the cat—and you didn't react at all. No purring, no rubbing against them. Honestly, you were the most serious cat I've ever seen. Even Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, would've done something. At least bite someone."
The silence that followed was like a funeral. No one dared to make a sound.
Noah, seemingly oblivious to the tension, kept going.
"Even a Muggle would notice something was off. And they're usually idiots. So if I may give some advice: get a real cat. Study its behavior and bring that into your transformation. It'll make it far more convincing."
He sighed. "So, how did I do?"
The other students looked at him like he was insane. Couldn't he feel the tension in the room? And he still asked how he did?
You did great—if your goal was to become the professor's most hated student, most of them thought.
They were sure Noah was doomed.
But McGonagall stayed quiet for a long moment. A faint glimmer passed through her eyes as she studied him.
"Ten points to Ravenclaw," she finally said, leaving the entire class stunned.
Ignoring the wide-eyed stares, she began the lesson.
"Transfiguration is one of the most complex and dangerous branches of magic you will learn at Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall, starting a long explanation about the risks involved.
Before anyone touched their wands, she reminded them of the dangers of attempting spells without complete understanding.
"Transfiguration is the branch of magic concerned with altering the form or appearance of things."
She went on to explain its subfields. "For this year, we'll focus on transformation."
She lectured at length about both the dangers and the grandeur of the art.
For transformation—the subject of their first lessons—she explained the difference between transfiguring objects and living beings.
To demonstrate, she transformed a desk into a pig—an advanced example of what students could achieve if they took Transfiguration seriously.
She assured them that, with dedication, by the time they graduated, such a feat would be child's play. They could accomplish far greater things—but only if they worked hard.
To everyone's excitement, they even got a taste of practical work.
"The goal is simple—or it should be, if you understand the process correctly," McGonagall said, standing at the front of the room.
"In front of you is an ordinary matchstick." She paused as each student touched the small sticks that had been handed out beforehand.
"Your task is to transform it into a needle."
Although she had called it simple, the students quickly realized otherwise once they began trying.
Despite all their muttering and tapping their wands on the sticks, nothing happened. At best, a few matchsticks looked uglier than before.
Noah picked up his wand but didn't move it right away.
What does a needle look like again? He searched his memory, grateful for his sharp recall. He pictured his days in the orphanage, when one of the nuns sewed his clothes.
It's thin, long, tapering to a sharp point. At the other end, there's a little hole for the thread. Silver in color, though not necessarily made of silver…
Noah, ever the perfectionist in visualization, described the details in his mind.
Once the mental image was complete, he looked at the matchstick. In his mind's eye, the image of the needle overlapped the stick. Then he tapped it with a smooth motion.
At the wand's touch, the transformation began. The matchstick's shape and color shifted, and soon, a shiny silver needle gleamed on the desk.
Though Noah excelled at "creation," visualization was still a necessary step. Even he couldn't skip it yet.
And there was another issue: his poorly crafted wand.
You could make things easier for me once in a while, he thought. He felt the drain—it had taken twice as much energy as usual. His visualization had saved him; otherwise, the spell might have failed.
"Well done, Mr. Gray," McGonagall said, stepping closer and picking up the needle.
Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
No matter how she examined it, it was flawless. She looked at Noah with clear approval—though privately, she regretted he hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor.
"Ten points to Ravenclaw," she said, handing the needle back.
Noah grinned. Why is she so surprised? Didn't she already see me use magic outside school? Woman, just accept my brilliance.
Still… earning extra points while playing the role of "talented but normal student" is kind of fun.
"How'd you do that?" Terry asked, sitting beside him. Michael and Anthony leaned in from behind to listen.
Noah thought for a moment, then had an idea.
"You've all seen a needle before, right? Your mothers sewing?" he asked.
Terry nodded. "Yeah."
"So you've seen them. Maybe even held them. What I want you to do is close your eyes and picture that needle. The full image, down to the details."
"Were they silver? Bronze? Gold? Big, small? Shiny, old?"
The boys weren't sure how this would help, but since Noah had succeeded on his first try, it seemed worth following his instructions.
"Now, tell yourselves what you remember about it. Don't just see it—understand it. If speaking helps you recall, say it out loud."
They whispered quietly, muttering details about the needles they remembered.
Noah could've just told them to look at his own finished needle, but he believed memory was better—the knowledge was already there.
After a while, they opened their eyes. "And now?" they asked.
Noah smiled and pointed at their matchsticks.
"Now, look at the matchstick but think of the needle. Overlay the images. When you feel ready, cast the spell."
Even with his detailed explanation, it was too much to expect perfect results right away. Still, his advice wasn't wasted—soon, they had some results.
"I think this counts, right?" Terry asked, holding up a slightly bent, dull needle.
Anthony's was thick and blunt, lacking a fine point.
Michael barely managed one that was half-needle, half-matchstick.
But it was progress, and they felt confident that by next class they'd succeed properly.
McGonagall, who had overheard Noah's instructions, was surprised. The way he explained it showed not just talent, but solid theoretical understanding—enough to guarantee success.
Of course, what she didn't know was that of all the subjects Noah had studied before Hogwarts, Transfiguration wasn't one of them. The truth was, its concept felt remarkably similar to the way he used his magic in general. He was simply applying his own method of visualization—not to create, but to change.
But no wizard alive could tell the difference. On the grand map of magic, the two approaches were almost identical—distinguished only by depth.
By the end of class, only one other student had managed a proper needle.
When the lesson ended, many were disappointed—it had been their only class so far involving actual wandwork. At least the next one held promise: Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Before Noah left, McGonagall addressed him.
"Excellent explanation, Mr. Gray."
Noah smiled. "It's easy to learn when you've got a great witch teaching you, right?"
McGonagall gave him a half-smile but said, "Flattery will get you nowhere in this school, Mr. Gray."
Noah scratched his head and turned to leave, but before stepping out, he left her with a parting thought.
"Today we learned how to change matter with magic, right?" He paused, then continued. "Whether it's an object, a living being, or even air—Transfiguration can affect it all."
She nodded, and he went on.
"So… isn't all magic, in some way, a kind of Transfiguration? We're just transforming raw magic into spells."
With that, Noah walked out. The room fell silent as McGonagall mulled over his words.
It wasn't that no one had ever reached such a conclusion before. But hearing it from an eleven-year-old? That was new.
And more than that, she felt he hadn't spoken his full mind. It seemed like his reasoning was leading toward something else—something she couldn't quite grasp.
McGonagall glanced at the door where Noah had exited, wondering what exactly went on inside that brilliant head.