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Potion modifications always demanded slow, methodical refinement. Once Snape had the materials in hand, he brought Rock along to help with the brewing.
The potion was being made for Rock, after all. He needed to see every stage firsthand.
Rock didn't mind. He picked up techniques that definitely weren't on any first-year syllabus, and he even learned a new preservation charm from Snape for storing delicate ingredients.
With exams closing in, the whole school felt like a pressure cooker.
Rock's routine stayed the same—classes, private tutoring, late-night grinding—but the tension in the air was impossible to ignore. The only subject that still gave him a headache was Astronomy. Star-chart questions made his brain hurt, though Theo had a real gift for them.
The study-room crew had each found their own way to cope, even Hermione. Lately she'd been spacing out again. The trio must have hit another snag.
Rock kept half an eye on them. The Philosopher's Stone was still sitting in his trunk, and Quirrell's disappearance left him unsure whether he even needed to put it back.
June arrived fast. Exam week hit like a Bludger.
Charms was straightforward: make a pineapple tap-dance. Rock aced it. When Professor Flitwick checked the scores, the little man's face lit up with pure approval.
Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts were everyone else's nightmare. Snape showed up to proctor both.
"Acceptable."
Snape's voice stayed ice-cold, but Rock knew he'd nailed the Forgetfulness Potion—the one Snape loved to threaten him with. It was the cleanest brew in the entire exam.
Transfiguration was different. Every student went in alone.
"Rock Scamander."
Adam stepped out looking pale. Rock gave his friends a quick nod and walked into the classroom.
McGonagall stood behind a desk holding a matchstick, a small stone, and a beetle.
"Professor."
She gave him a small smile. "Come along, Rock."
He stepped up. She studied him for a beat, then said, "I want you to show me your real level. Ignore every limit I set earlier this year. Tell me exactly where you are right now."
A cage floated over. Inside, a nervous squirrel chittered.
"Yes, Professor."
Rock drew his wand. He had one idea in mind—compound transfiguration.
"Verto in Musicam et Thecam!"
His wrist moved in a more intricate pattern than usual. The squirrel inside the cage shimmered, shrank, and reshaped. Seconds later a delicate musical jewelry box sat on the desk, complete with tiny spinning gears and a soft melody playing when the lid opened.
McGonagall stepped closer, expression serious. She had known exactly what he was attempting the moment his wand moved.
Rock let out a slow breath. That one had taken real effort.
"Excellent," she said, a rare note of delight in her voice. "You fused function and form through cross-species transfiguration. That shows a very deep understanding of both elements."
"Thank you, Professor. It's because of your teaching."
Rock gave a small bow. Without McGonagall's strict guidance all year, he never would have reached this point.
"No, Rock. As Professor Snape would say, excessive modesty is the deadliest form of hypocrisy." She looked straight at him. "In my classroom, focus and caution are required—but I believe it's time for another test. Are you up for it?"
Rock opened his mouth, then closed it and nodded.
McGonagall flicked her wand. A cloud of feathers rose into the air.
"I will send these at you. Transform every single one—any way you can."
She murmured a spell. The first wave drifted toward him almost lazily.
Rock tapped his wand. The feathers became paper butterflies that spun gently in front of him.
McGonagall's eyebrow rose. The second wave shot forward faster.
Again, Rock turned them into paper butterflies that joined the first swarm.
"Very good. Last one."
This time the feathers rocketed at him like bullets.
Rock's eyes widened. He stepped back as the paper butterflies surged forward to meet them.
She's using a modified Bombardment Charm.
The butterflies slammed into the feathers mid-air, exploding into a shower of colorful scraps and down. The rest of the feathers he turned into bright bubbles that popped harmlessly a second later.
McGonagall raised her hands and clapped once, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
"Outstanding tactics. You used your earlier transfigurations as a shield, then exploited the gap to neutralize the rest. Far beyond my expectations."
She sighed softly. "It seems the assignments I gave you this year barely scratched the surface of what you can do."
Rock shook his head. "Not at all, Professor. You always said the foundation is the most important part."
She gave him a long look, then smiled. "If you're interested, I'll continue tutoring you next year on the same schedule. Perhaps it's time you moved on to a higher level."
Rock blinked, then grinned. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall!"
"You're welcome. Over the summer, keep reviewing your notes and textbooks. The foundation is still everything."
She waved her wand; the paper scraps and feathers vanished. The classroom looked spotless again.
"Yes, Professor."
If this was what he thought it meant, he'd need to prepare.