Professor McGonagall stared at Char, her usual dignified and unflappable expression completely gone. Anyone could see the profound shock that had seized her. The concepts Char spoke of—the changes in the form and nature of magic—were described in his own self-summarized terms, but she understood exactly what he meant. This wasn't a superficial question. He was touching upon the very essence of Transfiguration.
She never would have dreamed she would hear such a profound inquiry from a first-year student. Even she, in her own first year, had not possessed such insight. She had only ever heard stories of Dumbledore displaying such extraordinary talent, of him astonishing his own Transfiguration professor after his very first class, leading the professor to declare that the young wizard would one day become a titan in the field.
Until this moment, Professor McGonagall had never truly understood what it must have felt like to teach a student like that. Now, looking at Char, she suddenly knew. This must have been how that professor felt when he first saw a young Albus Dumbledore.
But Dumbledore's talent was a known phenomenon, a once-in-a-century force of nature. What took ordinary wizards decades of hard work was as simple as breathing for him. Char, on the other hand… with his fragile innate talent, to have reached this level of understanding in just one semester was, in its own way, even more shocking than Dumbledore's early brilliance. She couldn't begin to imagine the blood and sweat that must have gone into it.
A wave of deep regret washed over her. The universe is so unfair, she thought. If only this boy had been given better talent, he might truly become the next Dumbledore.
After a long moment, she managed to calm the turbulent emotions in her heart. She gathered her thoughts and spoke to Char, her voice filled with admiration.
"Char, what you are sensing is correct. It is exceptionally rare for someone your age to have that kind of feeling. It proves you have an extraordinary instinct for Transfiguration."
The high praise, coming from the perpetually serious Professor McGonagall, stunned the rest of the class into silence. The gold content of those words was immeasurable. They had never heard her praise anyone so effusively, not even Hermione, whom she had always admired.
Char felt a little embarrassed. He knew his own situation. He had no special talent for Transfiguration. It was purely his mastery of several platinum-level spells that had given him a premature glimpse into the microscopic level of magic. That, and the chance encounter with Shadow, which had allowed him to observe the transformation of magic in slow motion. He never expected to be lauded as a rare prodigy.
Professor McGonagall, after a moment, continued her explanation. "Your observations are mostly correct, but there are a few misconceptions I must clarify. Transfiguration does indeed have two main directions of change at the microscopic level. The first is what we teach in this class—turning matches into needles, tables into teapots, and at a higher level, animating statues and armor to fight. In the academic community, this is known as Gamp's Transfiguration, named for the wizard who laid down the fundamental laws of what we now call classical Transfiguration."
"The other direction," she continued, "is what you described as a change in properties. It manifests as turning sparks into lightning, or floods into mire. At its most advanced, it can create objects with unique magical properties, such as conjuring a shield of mithril to block most magic. This school of thought was proposed centuries ago by the Transfiguration master Tolman. At the time, everyone thought he was mad; his ideas seemed to contradict Gamp's basic laws. But Tolman insisted that his and Gamp's discoveries were merely different manifestations of a single, greater form of Transfiguration. Over the centuries, his ideas were gradually accepted, and one hundred and fifty years ago, Tolman's Transfiguration was officially named. It is now known as the new wave of Transfiguration."
Char listened intently, absorbing every word. None of this was in the first-year textbook, which only mentioned Gamp. He guessed the reason was simple: it was too much, too soon for young wizards. Introducing Tolman's theories right away would be like teaching advanced calculus in primary school.
"Just as Tolman said," Professor McGonagall continued, correcting Char's earlier misunderstanding, "both are two different sides of the same coin. There is no hierarchy between them. Anyone who reaches the forefront of either field can be called a Master of Transfiguration." She waved her wand, and a spark at its tip transformed first into a crackle of lightning, then into a delicate frost. "Furthermore, the two fields are not entirely separate. Tolman's work was built upon Gamp's theorems, and classical Transfiguration has since absorbed many concepts from the new wave. To truly display astonishing power, one must master both. That is the truest path to Transfiguration. It is just… incredibly difficult."
She sighed, a look of wistful awe on her face. "In all my years, I have only known of three people who have achieved such a feat. All of them have profoundly changed the wizarding world. One of them may have been morally corrupt, but that cannot overshadow his outstanding achievements in Transfiguration."
She looked directly at Char. "My child, perhaps you have a small hope of becoming the fourth."
A dead silence fell over the classroom. The Hufflepuffs' eyes shone with pride, their chests puffed out. They didn't understand all the details, but they understood the weight of their professor's expectation. Who said Hufflepuffs are dunces? The top student in the most difficult subject is from our house! They became even more convinced of Char's "secret" to success: just believe in yourself.
The Gryffindors, especially Hermione, looked on with a mixture of frustration and disbelief.
But Char wasn't paying attention to them. His eyes were fixed on his system panel. After Professor McGonagall's detailed explanation, the faint bronze color on the word [Transfiguration] suddenly spread, the luster deepening. Without this master-class lecture, it would have taken him more than half a month of grueling practice to achieve the same progress.
A joyful smile he couldn't suppress appeared on his face. When the bell rang, Professor McGonagall asked him to stay behind and gave him the password to her office, telling him to come to her with any questions he had. A warm feeling surged in his heart. In his previous life, his mentor had always been impatient, dismissing his questions. The professors at Hogwarts, these titans of their fields, were so different. The contrast was staggering.
As he left the classroom, a letter from Hagrid arrived, making his good day even better. Following the batch of Goldfish Spider Plants that had matured while he was cultivating Shadow, another harvest was ready.
He hurried to Hagrid's hut. As he harvested the new plants, he felt the reward light balls pouring into his body, his perception of magic becoming ever clearer. On his system panel, the golden luster of his [Magic Perception Enhancement] brightened.
"The trolls' catalytic effect is still significant," he thought. "At this rate, it's only a matter of time before I reach the platinum level." An idea came to him: tame more trolls. He was tempted to go searching for the larger settlement Hagrid had mentioned, one with seven or eight trolls. If he could tame all fifty or so trolls in the Forbidden Forest, his production of Goldfish Spider Plants would increase tenfold.
But he quickly dismissed the idea. Quirrell was still lurking in the forest, and taming more trolls would create too much of a disturbance. Besides, there was the simple, unavoidable problem of feeding them. His current five trolls were already a strain on their resources. Feeding fifty would be impossible.
He shook his head, clearing the distracting thoughts. He took a deep breath, moved his body, and felt a satisfying series of cracks from his joints. He picked up his heavy wooden bat and walked toward the trolls.
He hooked his finger. "Same as before. Bring it on."
The trolls roared with excitement, picked up their own massive clubs, and charged.
Char didn't dodge. Veins bulged on his arms as he swung his bat with all his might, meeting their clubs head-on. Each collision sent a powerful shockwave through the air. The trolls stumbled back, and Char's own body swayed, his arms going numb from the recoil.
But on his system panel, the abilities of [Legendary Life] and [Legendary Strength] shone a little brighter. It was just a hint, but it was enough to make his eyes burn with determination.
With his magical progress at a bottleneck, this was how he spent his time every day, clashing with the trolls, honing his two legendary abilities. The progress was negligible, but it was progress nonetheless. The path to the mythical level was long and arduous, but at least he was on it.
"Again!" he growled. "Again!"
He wrestled with the giants, feeling every collision, every jarring impact. With each blow, he felt like an iron ingot in a forge, being hammered again and again, tempered into steel.
Boom. Boom.
The low, heavy sounds echoed through the forest, startling the birds. They didn't stop until the trolls were completely exhausted. The next day, the sounds would begin again. Day after day, Char struggled on the road to mythical power.
In the blink of an eye, another week had passed.