Chapter 142
Pansy blinked and asked curiously, "Draco, do you know the five principal exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration?"
After some hesitation, she had decided to take the initiative to make peace.
"Planning to skip straight to seventh year?" Malfoy closed his book and looked at her with mild amusement.
To his surprise, Pansy behaved as if nothing had happened the next day and came to ask him for help. The question itself was difficult enough to count as a clear sign of reconciliation.
Malfoy suspected she might be testing him with a difficult topic to recover some of the disadvantage of being the one to give in first.
However, he still had no idea what had caused the awkwardness over the past few days.
Lately, Pansy had been acting strangely. Sometimes she didn't seem to be listening when he spoke. At other moments she would suddenly giggle, as if thinking of something amusing. But whenever he asked, she immediately composed herself, pretending nothing had happened.
Malfoy's instincts told him that whenever that sly look appeared in her eyes, someone was about to suffer.
He just hadn't expected that someone to be himself.
"I don't know where you found that question, but it's essentially about the limits of magic," Malfoy said calmly. "If you're serious, remember this. Variations of it have been among the hardest questions on the Transfiguration O.W.L. in recent years."
"First—you can't create good food out of nothing."
He tapped the desk lightly to get her attention.
"It sounds simple, but the issue is more complicated than it seems," he continued. "Some clever people try to get around it by transfiguring common objects into animals. For example, this desk could be turned into a horse. That part is possible. But if they then try to roast it and eat it, they'll end up in St Mungo's."
"Why?" Pansy asked, now fully attentive.
"There are several explanations," Malfoy said. "The simpler theory is that transfiguration isn't permanent. When the magic fades, whatever you ate reverts to its original form—inside your stomach."
Pansy nodded instinctively, but Malfoy shook his head.
"That's the most common misunderstanding. In reality, the object never truly becomes edible in the first place.
"There are two more credible theories. One is that Transfiguration cannot alter the fundamental life-state of an object. That's the view most scholars accept.
"The other is that intent matters. If the caster is consciously trying to bypass a magical limitation—to exploit a loophole—then the transformation itself fails from the start."
Just as Pansy was nodding along, a cold voice cut through the conversation.
"Excellent, Mr. Malfoy. It seems you're already prepared for your O.W.L.s—and perhaps even your N.E.W.T.s. If my material is beneath you, you may apply to leave the class."
Professor McGonagall stood beside them, her face expressionless. But the students nearby could clearly feel the temperature drop.
Pansy froze.
Malfoy gave a faint, helpless smile.
Too much explaining. Too much like a teacher, he thought. In truth, he had simply enjoyed the admiration in her eyes and hadn't noticed McGonagall approaching.
"Inattention during class. Ten points from Slytherin," McGonagall said curtly before returning to the front.
"It's all your fault!" Pansy whispered angrily, glaring at him. Losing House points pained her more than the reprimand.
You were the one who asked, Malfoy thought, but said nothing. Continuing the discussion would only cost more points.
Despite McGonagall's irritation, part of what she implied was true.
Third-year lessons no longer held much appeal for him.
Malfoy's attention drifted as he considered his next steps.
Most of his third-year plans had already been completed. Aside from Hermione's interference—which had required extra effort—events had unfolded largely as intended.
Because of his Animagus form, Pettigrew would eventually seek help and find Voldemort, who was lingering in a weakened state somewhere in the forests of Albania.
Dumbledore had already placed a tracking charm on Pettigrew.
In truth, it was only a minor precaution.
Until he regained his strength, Voldemort would remain extremely cautious toward anything that might threaten him—especially when inhabiting snake-like creatures, whose instincts sharpened his sense of danger.
The tracking charm might help. If it truly led to the weakened Dark Lord and allowed him to be eliminated, so much the better. If not, there was no reason for disappointment.
If Malfoy wished, he could expose Barty Crouch Sr. for protecting his son and have Barty Crouch Jr. captured. And if Pettigrew hadn't been deliberately allowed to escape, no one would have slipped from Dumbledore's grasp.
If he took that path, Voldemort might never return the following year.
But that would only remove the immediate threat—while leaving a hidden danger.
No one could ensure the Albanian forest remained forever deserted. Sooner or later, someone might become the next Quirrell—controlled, possessed, and used.
And no one would know when.
Perhaps when Dumbledore grew old and weaker.
Perhaps when time itself carried him away.
And by then, Malfoy would no longer have the advantage of foresight.
No one could afford to underestimate the Dark Lord.