Although Professor McGonagall of Transfiguration was the Head of Gryffindor, she was always scrupulously impartial when dealing with student disputes.
She never showed any special favor to Kyle, deducting points whenever they were earned.
However, Kyle’s opponents almost always fared much worse than he did.
Of course, the people Kyle taught lessons to were either pure-blood supremacists or opportunistic bullies, meaning they never had a leg to stand on in the first place.
Not long after Kyle sat down, Professor McGonagall called the class to order.
The primary focus of Transfiguration this term was using magic to turn inanimate objects into living creatures.
Transfiguration was a branch of magic with a very low skill floor, but an impossibly high ceiling.
This was evident enough from the act of transforming non-living matter into a living organism.
If one turned a stone into a bird, the resulting avian was far more than a mere facade; it possessed complete internal organs and body systems, capable of feeling pain, fear, and hunger.
As far as Kyle knew, aside from Transfiguration, only certain advanced branches of Alchemy could achieve a similar feat—granting an object memories, thought, and logical reasoning capabilities.
Hogwarts possessed a magical item created through a combination of both methods: the famous Sorting Hat.
If the Sorting Hat were concealed from view while conversing, anyone unaware of the truth would never guess they were speaking with a hat.
In Kyle’s vision of his future Floating City, he envisioned having just such an intelligent core—functioning much like an artificial intelligence from his past life to assist him in managing the Floating City.
Yet, Transfiguration was also famously dubbed the least “magical” form of magic.
It could not be mastered simply by memorizing theory, perfecting incantations, or practicing precise wand movements.
It demanded a foundation of vivid imagination and the guidance of intuitive perception to achieve a successful transformation.
Consequently, the best time to lay a foundation in Transfiguration was during childhood.
Innocent, whimsical young witches and wizards were the most capable of grasping the essence of Transfiguration and making rapid progress.
Unfortunately, while Kyle possessed the body of a young boy, his inner soul was that of a middle-aged adult—a profile that fell decidedly outside the realm of natural talent for Transfiguration.
As a result, his marks in Transfiguration were abysmal.
Take his first-year final exam, for instance.
The prompt had been to turn a rat into a snuffbox.
Most of his classmates performed admirably, with some even producing snuffboxes decorated with intricate painted patterns.
Even the low achievers merely complained anxiously to their peers: “My snuffbox still has rat whiskers on it!
What should I do?
Will the professor give me a P?” Kyle, on the other hand, was on a whole different level.
Right up until the end of the exam, his rat sat placidly on the desk munching on biscuits, with only the arrangement of its fur shifted slightly to vaguely resemble the shape of a snuffbox.
The final grade had made Kyle turn pale.
He was convinced that using a Severing Charm to shave the rat would have produced something far better-looking than his fur-patterned snuffbox attempt.
The parchment paper proposal he had prepared today was aimed precisely at addressing his dismal performance in Transfiguration.
Up at the podium, Professor McGonagall was delivering a lecture on the key principles of Organic Transfiguration.
As Kyle took notes, he tried his best to follow the professor’s instructions, imagining the stone on his desk as a nimble, spirited white dove.
According to McGonagall, the more concrete and vivid the visualization, the higher the chance of success.
Unfortunately, by the time the bell rang to signal the end of class, the stone in front of Kyle had managed to sprout only a few sparse feathers.
Once the other students had filed out of the classroom, Kyle stood up and walked toward the teacher’s desk.
“Professor McGonagall, could I bother you for a few minutes?” “Of course, Mr.
Shafiq.
Of course.” Seemingly surprised that a struggling student was taking the initiative to seek guidance, Professor McGonagall, who didn’t usually interact with Kyle much outside of class, answered with mild astonishment.
“Professor, as you know, my marks in Transfiguration have always been poor.
It’s not because I don’t take the class seriously or lack practice, but rather that I seem to lack a certain natural aptitude for Transfiguration.” “There is no need to belittle yourself, Mr.
Shafiq.
I am well aware of your hard work and achievements in other subjects,” Professor McGonagall interrupted gently.
“Perhaps you simply haven’t found the key to unlock the door to Transfiguration yet.” “It’s not quite like that, Professor.
I’ve spoken with other students.
They can easily imagine a wooden stick as a silver needle or a teacup as a rabbit.
But even when I force myself to visualize it, my cold logic tells me that a cup is just a cup, and a stick is just a stick.
“When other young witches and wizards succeed in casting the spell and lock in that sensation, even as they grow older and lose their wild imaginations, it doesn’t stop them from delving deeper into Transfiguration.
They’ve already experienced its true essence in their innocent youth, and muscle memory carries them forward.
“I clearly lack that innate quality, which is why I’ve been standing outside the threshold of Transfiguration, unable to step inside.
I know myself well.
I can’t force my mind to see a rabbit in a teacup.
So I’ve devised a somewhat unconventional approach, and I was hoping to get your guidance on it.” Saying this, Kyle handed the prepared scroll of parchment to the professor.
The professor cast a slightly uneasy glance at the parchment before accepting it.
After all, throughout history, wizards who sought shortcuts in magic rarely chose wholesome paths.
What followed was somewhat awkward.
The professor glanced at the parchment.
The professor examined the parchment carefully.
The professor’s brows furrowed.
The professor clearly didn’t understand it.
“Kyle…
your research methodology seems to include some rather unusual concepts?” Kyle shrugged.
“Yes, Professor.
I incorporated some knowledge from the Muggle world.” Her frown deepened at his response, as she couldn’t make heads or tails of the Muggle concepts outlined on the parchment.
However, after reviewing Kyle’s annotations and taking a moment to consider, McGonagall offered her evaluation: “To be frank, Kyle, I don’t quite understand how these Muggle methods work.
However, the techniques you’ve outlined don’t appear to interfere with the flow of your magic.
They seem designed merely to assist in shifting your cognitive perception, so I don’t see any major issues with it.” She then added a serious warning: “However, this is merely my personal deduction.
If you intend to try this method, Kyle, it would be best to do so under the supervision of an experienced wizard.” Kyle nodded silently, bade the professor farewell, and stepped out of the classroom.