Hogwarts' magical curriculum was wonderfully varied. There was Herbology, requiring young wizards to manage the mischievous Bouncing Bulbs. History of Magic was taught by a ghost, and Potions class meant harsh point deductions for any distraction.
But if one asked which course young wizards loved most and found most difficult, it was undoubtedly Transfiguration. In this class, young wizards could freely unleash their magic to transform the matches before them without needing demanding steps or complex gestures and incantations. Professor McGonagall looked formidable, but her miraculous Transfiguration spells deeply fascinated young wizards. No one disliked turning a teapot into a water-spouting elephant, and no one could resist making a quill stand up and dance.
Yet, contrary to young wizards' enthusiasm, few achieved quick success in Transfiguration. Even Hermione, progressing fastest, had only transformed a match into a needle.
So when Shawn transformed a running mouse into a snuffbox and made it run again, nearly all young wizards gathered around, emitting a collective "Wow."
Shawn still underestimated his Transfiguration talent. Just two weeks of practice, and he'd already reached Proficient standard in intermediate Transfiguration.
Shawn wasn't alone in surprise—Professor McGonagall was too.
The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes smoothed, and satisfaction flashed behind her square spectacles. "Excellent, Mr. Green. Very outstanding Transfiguration. I award Ravenclaw five points!" She quickly moved closer to Shawn, ignoring young wizards' exclamations. Her eyes held only a slightly bashful Shawn, who was concentrated on his work.
"Come with me after class," she said softly.
Shawn, slightly startled, then quietly replied, "Yes."
Transfiguration class quickly ended. Young wizards whooshed out of the classroom, leaving only Shawn and Professor McGonagall.
Professor McGonagall watched Shawn while hearing young wizards' whispers around her: rumors about a certain Ravenclaw earning the most house points, reportedly even double the second place. The usual severity in her eyes gradually softened. She had brought a seed from barren soil. Now, she watched it germinate and grow.
"Follow me, Mr. Green." She briskly exited the Transfiguration classroom.
Professor McGonagall's office wasn't far. Pushing open the wooden door, Shawn took a few seconds to observe. It was a small study on the second-floor corridor with a roaring fireplace. Through the window, one could see the Quidditch pitch. Numerous young wizards were gradually arriving there, as Gryffindor and Slytherin's flying lessons would begin soon.
"Demonstrate the Transfiguration once more," Professor McGonagall's stern voice had unconsciously softened.
Shawn quickly realized this was special instruction from Professor McGonagall herself.
When he left the professor's office, his intermediate Transfiguration had improved considerably. In his hands was a Transfiguration notebook. Professor McGonagall had answered many of his questions and pointed him toward Transfiguration's true direction: wizard willpower. Like all magic, Transfiguration was affected by wizard emotions. Strong emotions such as sadness or shock affected this ability, including even Animagi and disguise magic. For instance, after Sirius Black's death, Tonks struggled to control her transformation ability, with her physical changes including her hair becoming gray-brown and thin, and her body becoming slimmer.
In the corridor, Shawn hurried toward the dungeons. Unlike other Ravenclaws, he wasn't heading to the Quidditch pitch to watch Gryffindor's flying lessons, though he was equally interested. But he always knew what he needed to do rather than what he wanted to do.
Hogwarts' corridors at dusk seemed to be under some Slowing Charm. Torches jumped in iron brackets, casting long, flickering shadows. The drowsy portrait paintings on stone walls issued even snores. As footsteps echoed through the arcade extending westward, sunlight disappeared completely behind the glass windows. The air suddenly became damp and heavy.
A spiral stone staircase appeared in an alcove masked by a tapestry, with cold air creeping up along the steps. Shawn descended the stairs with practiced ease, silently considering how to explain himself if he encountered Professor Snape, so he could leave safely. Fortunately, Shawn saw nothing, so his emerald eyes instantly brightened.
He quickly reached the cauldron, lit it, processed materials, retrieved notes—all in one smooth motion. He'd brewed at least ten pots of Cure for Boils. In his simulation, this number multiplied by ten. Therefore, he was intimately familiar with every step and could even make slight improvements.
The liquid in the cauldron emitted a reassuring gurgling sound. Its thick, dark green surface continuously formed and burst bubbles. Powdered dried nettles and crushed snake fangs became a blue-green fine powder. Shawn carefully added them to the cauldron in portions. Each addition made the liquid's boiling suddenly intensify.
At these moments, he had to immediately stir right three circles. Even half a circle more or less could ruin everything. Yet he didn't do this mechanically.
About magic, he'd long understood one principle: it was an idealistic miracle, yet could also accommodate rationality. His Charms studies taught him that while a wizard's mental state was important, proper pronunciation and gestures also made spell-casting easier. Yet young wizards—or even professors—hadn't deeply grasped this.
If they had, the textbook description of Levitation shouldn't be "clear pronunciation, a wave and dip." Rather, what specifically constituted clear pronunciation? How exactly should one wave—left or right, large or small amplitude?
Regrettably, the magical world upheld the principle of survival of the fittest. For wizards with talent, they'd practice by natural instinct until success. For those lacking talent, they could only repeat practice until Merlin blessed them with that instinctive understanding.
During Transfiguration, Shawn noticed more than once that Michael was simply flailing his wand randomly. He'd even wave the same wrong gesture ten times. Shawn, meanwhile, not only recorded his own posture and pronunciation errors and successes during transformation, but also deeply analyzed the differences, sometimes conducting comparative experiments until exhausted.
Combined with his natural intuition, his progress in the Transfiguration was remarkably fast.
Potions was the same. This intuition appeared rarely, but whenever it did, Shawn wouldn't let it slip away. Like now, Shawn changed his stirring amplitude, instead following some intuition, even slightly increasing the heat.
In the dungeon, candlelight flickered. In a place Shawn couldn't see, a pair of gloomy eyes materialized in the shadows.