Tom had been zoning out, absent-mindedly twirling a lock of Daphne's golden hair between his fingers, when he was suddenly called on. He blinked, momentarily stunned, but still rose to his feet.
"Professor, what… what were you saying again?"
Professor McGonagall's face darkened instantly.
"Daydreaming in class? Slytherin, minus one point. I said, Miss Brown is curious about the spell you used to animate the stone guardians. She doubts it's a Transfiguration spell. Explain it to us."
"Oh. Right."
Tom didn't care about the point deduction in the slightest. After all, he'd just earned five hundred points, he was currently untouchably smug.
"Brown, you need to understand the definition of Transfiguration first. Any spell that alters the state of an object falls under Transfiguration. A stone statue is lifeless by default, but under the spell it gains the ability to move. Of course that counts as Transfiguration… though it's also one of the ten summoning-type branches."
"As for learning this spell…" Tom paused, lips curling slightly. "Once you earn an Outstanding on your NEWTs, you'll basically meet the minimum requirement."
"So hard?!"
A collective hiss swept through the room, lungs emptied in synchronized despair.
Tom shook his head gently. "Actually, not really. It's just that by the time you reach fifth or sixth year, you'll finally start learning spells that grant sentience, or partial sentience, to inanimate objects. Once your foundation's solid, it's not difficult."
"Then how do you control hundreds of puppets at once?" Seamus asked, fascinated.
"Well… how do I put this…"
Tom frowned slightly, struggling to put it into words. After thinking for a moment, he finally said:
"Don't think of it as 'controlling.' These aren't Muggle marionettes. Think of it as… the spell links my thoughts directly to the constructs. When an idea forms in my mind, they move on their own to make it happen."
"Because I will it, therefore they act…"
Even Hermione looked baffled. Every student stared as if he'd just spoken in riddles, everyone except Professor McGonagall, whose eyes shone with approval.
That one sentence alone revealed Tom's understanding of magic's true nature, far deeper than most witches and wizards ever attained.
Magic was will made manifest, projecting itself into the world through magic power. No need to overcomplicate it with theories.
"All right," Professor McGonagall interrupted before anyone could spiral further into confusion. "You may remember Mr. Riddle's insight, but do not overthink it now. The day you grasp even a fraction of it… Hogwarts' curriculum will no longer pose any difficulty for you."
With that, she finally began the actual lesson.
After class, Seamus saw a suit of armor in the corridor and had a sudden burst of inspiration. Seeing no sign of Filch, he discreetly pulled out his wand and cast:
"Piertotum Locomotor!"
BOOM!
A violent shower of sparks erupted, and the armor exploded into hundreds of metal fragments, clattering across the floor in a deafening avalanche. The noise echoed through every floor of the castle.
Professor McGonagall, who had been answering a student's question in the classroom, nearly jumped out of her skin. Thinking another monster had appeared, she burst outside, only to find Seamus standing frozen before the wreckage, looking utterly horrified.
She immediately understood.
"FINNIGAN!" she roared. "Destroying school property, spell-casting in the corridor, Gryffindor, minus ten points! And detention tonight in my office!"
"…Yes, Professor McGonagall," Seamus mumbled miserably.
Not far away, Zabini, who had been lingering just to watch the show, couldn't help snickering.
"Finnigan, with talent like yours, Gryffindor's only hope of keeping any points at all rests entirely on luck."
Cackling, he dragged Nott and Rosier away with him.
Tom rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
Was Seamus perhaps the descendant of some strange magical creature?
Should he… capture him for research?
"Tom! Come on, we'll be late for the next class!"
Before he could decide, Daphne grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the greenhouses. Today was another day of caring for the Mandrakes. Compared to the infants they'd been at the start of the year, the Mandrakes now looked like twelve- or thirteen-year-old human children, full evolution from clownish gremlins to outright menaces.
Their screams had grown stronger too. Ordinary ear-muffs were no longer enough; only specialized dampening ear-plugs could guarantee safety.
Or… one could simply do as Tom did: yank one out, knock it unconscious, and continue on peacefully.
By the time the bell rang, the students practically fled the greenhouse. The Mandrakes were torture, they had bitten so many fingers that half the class looked half-mauled.
On the way back to the Great Hall for lunch, Tom ran into Snape. At first he thought it was coincidence, but then Snape deliberately called out to him.
"Riddle…"
The man who normally wore a perpetual scowl was suddenly smiling. It was absolutely more disturbing than if he'd burst into tears. Tom instinctively stepped two paces back.
"Professor… please don't."
Snape wanted to snap at him, but he had something to ask, and so he swallowed his pride and forced his tone gentle.
"That was a very large basilisk. Disposing of it must be troublesome. Do you… need my assistance?"
"Professor…" Tom smiled politely. "I would welcome your help, of course. I'm only worried that your hands might not be… clean."