Professor McGonagall asked calmly, “Mr Cress, what is your question?” Witt stood up.
“If something is created through Transfiguration, can it undergo further changes afterward?” “The book says that food created through Transfiguration cannot be eaten because, once the magic disappears, the food will revert to its original form and damage the body.” “But while you’re eating it, the food still has the proper taste and texture.” “I understand that you can’t actually eat it.
What I want to know is whether, before the magic wears off, that food can be digested.” “Or, to use a simpler example, if I Transfigure a piece of metal into wood, can I set it on fire and have it burn normally?” Witt’s question sounded rather pointless at first.
Why would a wizard bother turning iron into wood just to set it on fire?
Wouldn’t it be much easier simply to Summon a piece of wood?
But if one thought about it more carefully, the underlying question was completely different.
A piece of wood brought over with a Summoning Charm was naturally capable of burning because it was wood to begin with.
Steel, on the other hand, could not normally combust like wood.
If wood produced through Transfiguration could truly burn…
Then wouldn’t a nuclear bomb created through Transfiguration be capable of exploding as well?
And if Witt could understand the underlying principle, could he perhaps even Transfigure weapons that existed only in science fiction?
Witt was willing to bet that Professor McGonagall didn’t know the complete composition of a pig, exactly how much water, protein, carbon, and every other substance it contained.
Yet she’d still transformed a desk into a living, breathing pig with ease.
Most of the young witches and wizards in the classroom didn’t understand what Witt was getting at.
They thought he was asking something incredibly dull.
Professor McGonagall, however, understood perfectly.
“Mr Cress, wood Transfigured from iron by an ordinary young wizard cannot burn.
The matter involves extremely advanced principles of Transfiguration.” “An ordinary young wizard?” Witt immediately seized on those words.
“Can you do it, Professor?” “Of course.” McGonagall took out a metal button and, with a light movement of her wand, transformed it into a piece of wood.
“Incendio.” Under the flames, Witt clearly saw the surface of the wood begin to char.
After the brief demonstration, McGonagall lowered her wand.
“That is enough, Mr Cress.
Do not get ahead of yourself.” “If Transfiguration interests you, you may study it in greater depth outside class.
You are welcome to come to me with questions.” No teacher disliked a diligent student who genuinely wanted to learn.
McGonagall was no exception.
Having secured that promise, Witt sat back down and began practising Transfiguration.
Very quickly, he discovered that none of it was simple.
There was always an enormous gulf between theory and practice.
Cooking was the easiest example.
Anyone could tell you how to cook.
But once you actually picked up the knife and started doing it yourself— chaos.
Even if you somehow succeeded, the final dish might still taste far worse than expected.
At that point, theory wasn’t what mattered anymore.
What mattered was endless practice, day after day— and a tiny little difference in talent.
Tiny.
Only about the size of the Milky Way.
Fortunately, Witt seemed to possess fairly decent talent.
Before long, he successfully transformed his match into a needle and even began enthusiastically engraving patterns into its surface.
Then he glanced sideways.
Lily had only managed to make the tip of her match slightly sharper.
Seeing how anxious she was becoming, Witt reluctantly abandoned his plan to engrave an entire poem onto the silver needle and turned to help her instead.
“The essence of magic comes from the heart.” Witt gently placed a hand over Lily’s wand.
Some things simply couldn’t be rushed.
“Picture a needle clearly in your mind.
Don’t let the fact that it’s currently a match affect you.
Believe completely that what you’re looking at is a needle.” “Then say the incantation.” Witt removed his hand and guided Lily through the process with his voice.
At the most basic level, Transfiguration was essentially like applying a new texture.
A skin.
Iron was still iron, but now it had been wrapped in the appearance of wood and granted some of wood’s physical properties.
Its core nature had not actually changed.
That was why wood created by inexperienced young wizards couldn’t burn.
To make it truly combustible, one would need to apply another layer— a chemical one.
Yet Witt still couldn’t understand one thing.
Professor McGonagall probably didn’t know every complicated chemical reaction involved in wood combustion.
So how had she managed it?
Perhaps the whole texture **and **skin explanation only applied to the elementary Transfiguration Witt was currently learning.
Once one reached more advanced levels, the theory clearly stopped being sufficient.
Witt opened his textbook again.
A passage printed on the page caught his eye.
Transfiguration is a precise, complex, and extremely dangerous branch of magic.
I do not expect many witches or wizards to truly walk this path.
But once you step into the halls of Transfiguration in earnest, you may find yourself willing to devote an entire lifetime to it— and consider the price a joy.
Under Witt’s guidance, Lily worked for a while longer.
At last, she managed to transform the match in front of her into a needle.
It was slightly crooked, but there was no mistaking what it was.
Basic Transfiguration might roughly be understood as applying a skin, but that skin still had to be created by the caster’s own mind.
There was no copy and paste function.
Everything depended on practice.
If your first attempt came out crooked and ugly, that was perfectly normal.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ After class, Witt kept glancing left and right.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him.
Yet no matter how carefully he looked, he couldn’t find anyone.
“What are you looking at?” Lily asked curiously.
Ever since class ended, Witt had been constantly turning his head.
It was impossible not to notice.
“Nothing.” Witt shook his head.
If the other person could avoid his attempts to locate them, then they were clearly stronger than he was.
Rather than alerting them now, it would be better to improve his own strength first.
Then he could trap them once they lowered their guard.
“Come on.
Let’s go eat.” After Witt left, Snape stepped out from behind a stone pillar.
That boy named Witt really was unusually sharp.
Snape had even used a Disillusionment Charm, yet Witt had still nearly noticed him.
Earlier that morning, Snape had already found his younger self and questioned him about Lily.
The beginning of the story matched perfectly.
After discovering that Lily could use magic, young Snape really had secretly observed her for some time.
But Witt’s appearance obviously didn’t belong in that history.
And according to young Snape, it was only after Witt appeared that he himself had somehow been transported here.
He had then wandered around London for several days and nearly starved to death.
There was no conclusive evidence yet.
But often, suspicion was enough.
Evidence could be gathered slowly.
And that was precisely what Snape intended to do.
If possible, Snape did not actually want Lily to return.
Voldemort was a very real threat.
Twenty years ago had not been a peaceful time.
Still, Snape had no intention of relying on only one possibility.
He would never put all his eggs in one basket.
While investigating whatever made Witt special, Snape would also teach his younger self, ensuring that the boy did not make the same mistakes again.
At the same time, he would teach Lily and help her grow stronger as quickly as possible— while making very certain she remained wary of a certain bastard named James.
Snape had not slept at all the previous night.
He had spent every hour making plans.