On Saturday, Alvin arrived promptly at the staff lounge next to Professor McGonagall’s office.
As soon as he stepped inside, he noticed several students had already arrived.
Two of them were familiar faces.
The first was Deborah Baink, Ravenclaw’s sixth-year Head Girl—a sharp-looking witch with short hair and a capable demeanor.
The second was a sixth-year wizard named Ian Marshall.
Both noticed Alvin entering.
Deborah waved him over with a smile.
Alvin walked across the room and took the empty seat beside her.
“Good afternoon, Senior.” “My, what a polite junior.” Deborah covered her mouth with a light laugh.
Then she added: “A first-year joining the Transfiguration Club—you’re making Ravenclaw look very good.” “You’re too kind.” “It’s only because Professor McGonagall thought I had a little talent and wanted me to experience things early.” Alvin hurriedly attributed it to luck.
Deborah merely smiled.
Everyone knew McGonagall’s standards.
Without genuine ability, there was no chance of entering this club.
Still, she chose not to contradict him.
Instead, she offered a warning.
“We’re all happy to have you here.” “But the two Slytherins over there aren’t.” “They don’t think you’re qualified to join.” As she spoke, she glanced toward the opposite side of the room.
Alvin followed her gaze.
Two male Slytherins sat there.
Both were staring at him with open contempt.
Their expressions were filled with hostility and disdain.
Alvin noticed it immediately.
But he wasn’t particularly concerned.
He hadn’t spent any of his accumulated system gold on draws yet.
However, the daily rewards alone had already granted him numerous spells.
Many of them had reached levels that exceeded those of ordinary adult wizards.
After all, system-granted spells started at roughly O.W.L.-level proficiency.
Repeated rewards only improved them further.
In terms of raw spell power, some Aurors probably couldn’t match him anymore.
So Alvin simply ignored the pair and smiled at Deborah.
“Don’t worry, Senior.” “A little entrance test won’t be a problem.” The smile nearly caught Deborah off guard.
The boy was dangerously charming.
A few moments later, Professor McGonagall entered.
She wore her usual dark emerald robes and pointed witch’s hat.
After scanning the room and confirming everyone had arrived, she nodded in satisfaction.
“Students.” “Today we welcome a new member.” “Mr.
Alvin Gaunt.” “Please give him a warm welcome.” Alvin rose from his seat.
He nodded politely toward the room before offering a respectful bow to McGonagall.
Then he sat back down.
Everyone applauded.
Even the two Slytherins clapped a few perfunctory times.
Neither dared openly disrespect McGonagall.
Once the applause died down, McGonagall continued.
“Next, Mr.
Gaunt will complete a brief assessment.” “We’ll need a volunteer.” “Who would like to assist?” One of the Slytherins immediately stood up.
“Professor.” “I’d like to test Mr.
Gaunt’s abilities.” As he spoke, he flashed Alvin an ugly grin.
One that almost made Alvin wince.
McGonagall showed no objection.
“Very well, Mr.
Bulstrode.” “You’ll act as Mr.
Gaunt’s opponent.” With a flick of her wand, two chairs flew forward from the back of the room.
They landed neatly in the center.
“Each participant will receive one chair.” “You are to use Transfiguration to create animals.” “Those animals will then compete.” “No attacks directed at the wizard.” “No magic beyond Transfiguration.” “Is that understood?” Both students nodded.
Then drew their wands.
Bulstrode moved first.
His wand tapped the chair.
Instantly, it transformed into a hyena.
The beast was impressively large.
Its muscular frame and gleaming teeth looked genuinely intimidating beneath the room’s lighting.
With a snarl, it charged toward Alvin’s chair.
Not bad.
Bulstrode clearly possessed some talent.
At least by student standards.
Unfortunately for him— His opponent was Alvin.
Remaining perfectly calm, Alvin casually pointed his wand.
His chair immediately transformed into a massive Welsh Buffalo.
The creature’s enormous horns curved outward menacingly.
Stories claimed such buffalo could battle lions without fear.
The buffalo lowered its head.
And charged.
The collision was immediate.
Its horns slammed directly into the hyena.
The unfortunate beast was launched backward like a ragdoll.
Bulstrode’s expression darkened instantly.
He couldn’t believe it.
A first-year.
Creating something as large and detailed as a buffalo.
When he himself had been a first-year, he’d nearly driven himself insane trying to transform objects into simple tobacco boxes.
But surrendering wasn’t an option.
He raised his wand again.
The injured hyena began to change.
Ripples spread across its body.
Gradually, it transformed into an owl.
Flying creatures were considerably more difficult than land animals.
They required far more precise magical control.
Clearly, Bulstrode lacked sufficient skill.
The transformation proceeded painfully slowly.
In an actual duel, someone moving at this speed would’ve been hit by an Avada Kedavra long before finishing.
Alvin could have interrupted him.
Easily.
But he didn’t.
If he disrupted the transformation and Bulstrode later complained that the fight wasn’t fair— What then?
So Alvin simply stood there.
Patiently watching the performance.
Nearly thirty seconds later, the transformation finally finished.
Sort of.
The owl had become something closer to an eagle.
Though an awkward one.
Its wings were uneven.
Its proportions looked wrong.
And it could barely stay airborne.
That was it?
Alvin was speechless.
After all that effort…
The result was a half-finished eagle?
Still, something about it irritated him.
Bulstrode had chosen an eagle specifically to fight him.
As a Ravenclaw.
That felt personal.
If anyone was going to use an eagle here— It should be him.
And certainly not that ugly excuse for one.
Alvin immediately lost interest in playing around.
With a casual flick of his wand, the Welsh Buffalo transformed.
Its body compressed.
Its shape streamlined.
Moments later, a magnificent hawk burst into existence.
Its wingspan stretched nearly two meters.
Sharp eyes locked onto Bulstrode’s malformed eagle.
And somehow seemed to contain visible disdain.
What an embarrassment to birds of prey.
The hawk let out a piercing cry.
Then launched upward.
Its wings beat once.
Twice.
And suddenly it was directly above its opponent.
Steel-like talons descended.
Combined with gravity and momentum, the strike was devastating.
The hawk seized the eagle and slammed it toward the floor.
The moment contact was made— Bulstrode’s eagle reverted instantly.
Returning to its original form.
A chair.
A shattered chair.
Broken into pieces.