Chapter 111: Biological Transfiguration
The Weasley twins loved pranks—but Russell was equally curious to see what it looked like when they were the ones getting played.
Speak of the devil.
Fred and George spotted Russell's group gathered together and immediately wandered over.
As soon as they got close, they noticed several small bags of pale green liquid placed in front of Russell. It looked suspiciously like some sort of drink.
"Can you actually drink that?" Fred asked, pointing at one of the bags.
"Of course," Russell said cheerfully. "This is a specialty beverage Cho Chang carried all the way from her hometown with great effort. It has a famous name—douzhi. Want to try it?"
Smiling broadly, Russell handed a bag to each of them. Cedric and Cho followed suit.
To keep themselves from laughing out loud, Cedric and Cho started pinching thighs—
except Cedric was pinching Cho's thigh, and Cho was pinching Cedric's.
"Douzhi… hmm, nice name," Fred said, pronouncing it in clumsy Mandarin. Then, without hesitation, he popped the bag into his mouth and bit it open.
"BLEURGH—!"
He sprayed it straight out.
"Protego!"
Russell reacted instantly, casting a Shield Charm just in time. The douzhi splattered harmlessly against the barrier and slowly slid down, leaving streaks behind.
"This taste—ugh…"
Fred didn't get angry. Instead, he took another sip.
His face twisted violently as a dozen expressions flashed across it—but in the end, he swallowed.
"Yes! That's it," Fred said excitedly. "I've got inspiration. Thank you, Cho. Once the finished product is ready, I'll give you one for free."
"I'll grab another bag," he added, dragging George—who still had no idea what was going on—away with him.
Russell suddenly felt uneasy.
He had a bad feeling he'd just opened Pandora's box.
---
After breakfast, Wednesday headed off to Professor Sprout's Herbology class, while Russell went to the library. He planned to look up Nicolas Flamel's life story—and anything related to the Philosopher's Stone.
Since it was the first day of term, the library was nearly empty. Apart from Russell, only Madam Pince was present.
As usual, she was relentlessly strict, pacing back and forth around him like a hawk.
Russell finally stopped reading.
"Madam Pince, could you stop circling me? I'm starting to feel dizzy."
"I must ensure you do not damage the books," she replied sternly.
"In that case," Russell said calmly, "could you help me find books about Nicolas Flamel? I've recently developed an interest in alchemy."
"Books about Nicolas Flamel are easy enough," she said.
"But alchemy books…" She glanced at him, hesitated for a long moment, then finally spoke.
"They are all kept in the Restricted Section. If you wish to enter, you'll need a permit signed by a professor."
"I see," Russell nodded.
Getting a permit, at least for him, wouldn't be difficult at all.
___
Soon enough, they welcomed the first class of the new school year.
"Good afternoon, Professor Sprout," Russell greeted.
Professor Sprout, as always, was loosening the soil around her plants. She straightened up when she saw him.
"Russell! It's been a while. I heard from Morticia that you went to the Soviet Union," she said warmly, handing him a cup of tea.
"Did Wednesday go with you as well? She did very well this morning—looks like she inherited Morticia's talent for Herbology."
"It was a little dangerous," Russell said with a smile, as if recalling something vivid, "but definitely unforgettable."
He reached into his pocket and took out a small box.
"Professor, this is a gift for you—plant seeds from the Soviet Union. Just a small token."
"Oh, I love it," Professor Sprout said, visibly touched as she accepted it. "To think you still remembered me while traveling."
"In that case," Russell grinned, "how about adding some points for Ravenclaw? Ten or twenty would be nice—though I wouldn't complain about three or five either."
"Oh, stop that," she laughed. "Didn't I give you enough points last year already?"
She opened the box, and Russell immediately leaned in, pointing.
"Cold-resistant potatoes from the Siberian Plateau—cool and refreshing in texture, perfect for salads."
"Highland mint—strong aroma, with anti-inflammatory and digestive properties."
"Ural licorice…"
By the time Russell finished his enthusiastic introduction, students were gradually filing in from outside.
"Today," Professor Sprout announced, "we'll be studying the properties of Mandrakes. Can anyone tell me what happens if you hear a Mandrake's cry?"
"Merlin's leg hair—shouldn't the first class be a review of last year's material?" James muttered under his breath.
Several students nodded and quietly complained along with him.
After a long, enjoyable summer, most of the knowledge in their heads had evaporated. On top of that, they'd just woken up from a nap—everyone looked groggy and half-asleep.
"It can cause unconsciousness… or death, Professor," Russell raised his hand.
"Correct. Ravenclaw, one point."
Because Russell always answered quickly and accurately, professors usually avoided calling on him—and when they did, they added points very conservatively.
Even so, Ravenclaw's score kept climbing thanks to him. Yet last year they still nearly lost to Slytherin, which said a lot about Snape's enthusiasm for awarding points.
At first, Ravenclaw students applauded whenever Russell earned points. Eventually, they became numb—emotionally, and physically. Their hands were tired from clapping.
"History of Magic," James said tearfully. "I've never loved this class so much."
"Isn't that a bit dramatic?" Russell asked, genuinely confused. He actually found Professor Binns's lectures interesting.
That said, when he looked around and saw most of the class slumped over within minutes, he began to reconsider.
After sleeping through the entire History of Magic lesson, the students were refreshed and ready for Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall.
Russell even suspected the timetable was designed this way on purpose—sandwiching History of Magic between two demanding classes as a built-in nap break.
"Today's lesson," Professor McGonagall announced, standing tall at the podium, "is biological transfiguration. I don't expect you to have previewed this term's content, but I do expect you to have reviewed last year's material over the summer."
Her sharp gaze swept across the room.
The students lowered their heads instantly, afraid she might see the guilt in their eyes.
Review? Please. They'd spent the entire summer having fun and forgotten everything.
"I see," McGonagall said calmly. "You are now second-years. Before long, you'll be facing your O.W.L.s—and later, your N.E.W.T.s."
"There are still three years left," James whispered.
"Mr. Barkins," McGonagall said coolly, "do you have a question?"
James jolted upright. "N-no! I mean—I'll definitely study hard."
McGonagall took out a box of buttons.
"Today's task is to transfigure a button into a beetle."
"You've already learned inanimate-to-inanimate transfiguration. Today, we move on to turning nonliving objects into living ones."
She explained the key points from the podium while the students stared blankly, as though listening to an alien language. After a long pause, they hurriedly started taking notes.
Whether they understood or not, at least they could look serious.
"All right," McGonagall said briskly. "You may begin."
Without waiting for them to digest the theory, she placed a button and a beetle figurine on each desk.
Transfiguration was a practical subject—reading alone wouldn't teach you anything.
But for the students, this felt like being handed a bow and told, Go shoot down the sun.
James tapped his button lightly with his wand.
The button trembled—and suddenly sprouted four legs, scuttling wildly across the desk.
Every time it neared the edge, it abruptly turned and ran in another direction.
James broke into a foolish grin.
"Mr. Barkins," McGonagall said coolly, "the button is not your toy."
She reverted it to its original form, not angry—after all, James had caused a change.
Those legs did resemble beetle legs… she told herself.
Cho held her wand perfectly still, staring intensely at the button, as if sheer willpower could transform it.
She stared so long that even McGonagall began to lose patience.
Finally, Cho moved.
She gently tapped the button.
It began to change, gradually becoming identical to the beetle figurine.
But for some reason, it didn't move.
Then Cho tapped it again.
The beetle stirred.
Just as Cho beamed, convinced she'd succeeded, McGonagall approached—her expression complicated.
"I'm afraid not, Miss Chang."
At Cho's confused look, McGonagall twisted off the beetle's head.
The body kept moving, legs flailing.
"You first turned the button into a beetle statue, then animated it. That's extremely advanced—but for that alone, Ravenclaw earns ten points."
Animating the inanimate…
Russell recalled a spell McGonagall had used during the final battle—bringing stone guardians to life.
Piertotum Locomotor.
McGonagall asked Cho to repeat the process, but no matter how she tried, she failed.
It had been a fluke.
McGonagall was disappointed—she'd briefly thought she'd discovered another Transfiguration prodigy.
Cho's friend Marietta was even worse—she accidentally blew her button to pieces.
McGonagall, face dark, handed her a replacement.
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