"As you can see," Professor McGonagall said, "when one's understanding of a material's internal structural rules is deep enough, their magic sufficiently strong, and their intent perfectly clear, this kind of transformation is achievable.
But as you noted, it is far more difficult than ordinary Transfiguration. It requires the caster not only to imagine the target form, but to comprehend and reconstruct its stable inner structure, converting loose, layered connections into a solid three-dimensional framework."
Regulus asked at the right moment, "Professor, then what about the Philosopher's Stone?"
She lowered her wand and looked at him. "As for the Philosopher's Stone… that is the pinnacle of alchemy, far beyond the scope of ordinary Transfiguration.
It touches upon the domains of creation and eternity.
Gold produced through standard Transfiguration often carries a strong imprint of the caster's magic. It is unstable, prone to reverting over time or under powerful magical interference, or it possesses a kind of false essence.
Gold refined by the Philosopher's Stone, on the other hand, is said to possess truly eternal material properties.
The difference may lie in whether one has genuinely created or permanently fixed the perfect internal structural rules that define gold itself."
The discussion benefited Regulus immensely.
Professor McGonagall's perspective leaned toward an intuitive understanding of magic and will.
His own approach incorporated ways of thinking rooted in modern science.
Where the two intersected, his understanding of Transfiguration suddenly became much clearer.
"Your talent and depth of thought in Transfiguration are truly impressive, Mr. Black."
Professor McGonagall's tone softened. She rose and walked to an old bookshelf, taking down a thick notebook that clearly had some years on it.
Regulus noticed the cover at once. It was made of deep blue dragon hide, the sort of thing that made its owner's regard for it obvious at a glance.
"This contains some insights, conjectures, and lessons learned from failure that I recorded in my youth, when I was exploring higher levels of Transfiguration," she said solemnly as she handed it to him.
"There are no specific spells or techniques inside. It focuses more on reflections about the essence of Transfiguration, and on how to perceive and understand an object you wish to transform with greater clarity.
"I believe it may be of some help to your current studies."
Regulus accepted the notebook with both hands. He could feel the gentle warmth of residual magic in the cover, as well as the accumulated wisdom of decades belonging to a rigorous scholar.
The value of this gift was beyond measure.
"Thank you very much, Professor McGonagall," he said earnestly.
"I hope it will guide you toward the right path," Professor McGonagall replied, her gaze deep. "Transfiguration is one of the most direct expressions of magic's power to alter reality.
A strong will can reshape matter, but you must always remember that will itself must be guided by wisdom and morality.
Never forget that we study magic to understand the world, not merely to dominate or distort it."
"Yes, Professor. I won't forget," Regulus said.
He nodded, understood her meaning, thanked her once more, and left the office.
After the door closed, Professor McGonagall remained where she was, staring at it with a complicated expression.
The talent and mindset this child had shown were rare even across her many years of teaching.
He was calm, sharp, creative, and also capable of restraint and respect, at least on the surface.
Yet it was precisely because of this that her concern deepened. Such talent and temperament, if led astray, could cause tremendous harm.
"I only hope he chooses the right path," she murmured.
She returned to her desk, but for a long while, she could not bring herself to resume grading.
In the end, Professor McGonagall stood and made her way to the headmaster's office.
She spoke the password. The stone gargoyle leapt aside, the spiral staircase carried her upward, and she knocked on the gleaming oak door.
"Come in, Minerva," Dumbledore's gentle voice called.
Professor McGonagall entered the circular office. As always, it hummed with the soft buzz of strange silver instruments. Portraits of former headmasters pretended to doze while clearly listening in.
Fawkes preened his feathers on his perch.
"Albus, I need to talk to you about Regulus Black," Professor McGonagall said without preamble.
Dumbledore looked at her over his half-moon spectacles, interest flickering in his blue eyes. "Ah, young Mr. Black. I take it he has once again presented my deputy headmistress with a Transfiguration problem she found… challenging?"
"It's more than that," Professor McGonagall said, settling into her usual straight-backed chair, her expression grave.
"His talent is exceptional. His understanding of Transfiguration far exceeds his age, even brushing against areas I rarely examine in depth myself.
More importantly, his way of thinking is highly unusual. Structured, precise, and his perspective is… elevated.
This child is not ordinary, Albus."
She went on to recount in detail their discussion about graphite, diamond, and the internal structural rules of matter.
Dumbledore listened quietly, his hands folded before him.
"And there's more," Professor McGonagall continued, frowning. "I've noticed certain patterns in his behavior.
He no longer asks overly advanced questions in class. He presents himself as an exemplary student focused on solidifying his foundations.
But I had the house-elves keep an eye out, and it turns out he often practices highly refined magic alone in secluded parts of the castle, including nonverbal spells and extremely precise Transfiguration.
That is far beyond what someone his age should be capable of. Some of it even surpasses the spellwork of adult wizards.
He's had academic exchanges with Lily Evans of Gryffindor in the library, and has even taught her methods of Muggle academic writing.
With his classmates, he maintains a surface-level distance, but the boy named Cuthbert Avery seems to be starting to follow him. Regulus's response has been a measured acceptance and guidance, not simple exploitation."
Dumbledore nodded slightly. "Yes, Minerva. I've noticed these things as well."
"You knew?" Professor McGonagall looked at him. "Of course you did. How could you not?"
"This castle," Dumbledore said with a smile, his gaze sweeping over the supposedly sleeping portraits, "has many eyes and ears. And I do take a special interest in young Mr. Black.
From the day he arrived, the Sorting Hat passed along some… intriguing impressions.
It said that he looks to the stars, beyond mundane conflicts, yet still chose the path of Slytherin."
He paused, his voice calm and perceptive. "He is different from his brother, Sirius.
Sirius's rebellion is fire. Bright, fierce, and direct.
Regulus, on the other hand, appears calm on the surface, but may harbor complex thoughts and unknown intentions beneath.
His hunger for knowledge is genuine. His pursuit of power is clear. Yet he seems to operate by his own standards and internal logic."
That's exactly what worries me," Professor McGonagall said. "He has talent, ideas, and the ability to conceal and calculate. If he were to be drawn to dark ideologies…"
"We cannot choose our students' paths for them, Minerva," Dumbledore said gently but firmly. "All we can do is offer knowledge, set examples, and intervene to guide or correct when necessary.
So far, Regulus Black has shown no behavior that crosses any lines.
His interactions with Lily Evans are based on mutual respect and friendship. His way of restraining Cuthbert Avery resembles guidance rather than indulgence.
His exploration of Transfiguration is deep, yes, but it has not entered dangerous territory."
He looked out at the darkening sky, his gaze distant. "Voldemort's shadow is drawing closer. Many ancient families are making their choices, and the Black family will not be able to stand apart.
Regulus stands in the middle of it all. Every choice he makes will affect not only himself, but possibly many others.
We cannot foresee the future, but we can observe, and we can prepare."
"Do you think he… will be different?" Professor McGonagall asked.
Dumbledore fell silent for a moment before speaking slowly. "The starry sky the Sorting Hat saw may have been a metaphor.
It could signify ambition, or it could represent a broader vision and higher aspirations.
The way he views magic differs from most. That could be dangerous, or it could be an opportunity.
Time will give us the answer, Minerva.
Until then, let us continue to fulfill our duties as professors. Teach him, watch him, and when necessary, ensure that he does not harm others, or himself."
The conversation ended. Professor McGonagall's unease had not fully faded, but the headmaster's words brought her some measure of calm.
At the very least, Dumbledore was watching that child as well.