Professor McGonagall led Vaughn to her office.
Located on the second floor, its windows overlooked the Quidditch pitch—a small privilege of being the Deputy Headmistress, catering to her love of Quidditch.
Back in her office, Professor McGonagall seemed less stern.
She even offered Vaughn a small biscuit before asking: “Mr.
Weasley, it was not convenient to inquire in detail during class.
I assume you have practiced Transfiguration privately at home, yes?” “Yes, Professor.
Using my brother’s textbooks.” “I believe I have repeatedly emphasized to your brothers just how dangerous it is,” Professor McGonagall said, pursing her lips.
Vaughn nodded.
“That’s why I only attempted object transfiguration, Professor.
Starting with small trinkets, just as Percy recorded in his notes—performing simple alterations before moving on to more complex ones…
Here are some of my notes.” He pulled out his heavily annotated copy of *A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration* and handed it to Professor McGonagall.
Professor McGonagall flipped through it first.
“A new book?
You reviewed it again before starting school?” “Yes, Professor.” Professor McGonagall stopped speaking and examined the pages intently.
After a long while, she closed the book, a faint, pleased smile appearing on her face.
“I see.
Mr.
Weasley, you have prepared very thoroughly, and your records of each transfiguration are remarkably detailed.” She did not show her shock, only sighing inwardly.
Initially, she had thought Vaughn had merely dabbled in it or received some tutoring from his brothers to gain a basic foundation.
But after reading the notes, she realized his grasp of Transfiguration had actually reached an advanced level.
The proof lay on the very last page of the textbook: “…Today, I successfully turned Fruit Tea’s dried fish into a mouse.
For a brief second, I thought I had created life, but it was clearly not the case.
The mouse’s behavior was pre-programmed by me; it was nothing more than a puppet that looked like a mouse.
It lacked the animation belonging to life, but this area exceeds my current knowledge.
How does advanced Transfiguration resolve this issue?” “Spells require corresponding emotions; is Transfiguration similarly inseparable from this element?
The change from inanimate to animate, and between different lifeforms—perhaps one must approach it from the perspective of the target’s thoughts and emotions?
Or memories?” Needless to say, Professor McGonagall was deeply shaken upon reading those words.
It was not because of Vaughn’s progress in Transfiguration, but because of his reflections and hypotheses on the subject!
*Such a genius…
why must he be in Slytherin?* After a brief hesitation, Professor McGonagall, who as Deputy Headmistress had adhered to fairness and justice all her life, ultimately said dryly, “Mr.
Weasley, as you know, not all students progress at the same rate.
There are always some who are more…
gifted…” She had never liked classifying students into tiers, but this was reality.
She continued, “For students who learn at an accelerated pace, Headmaster Dumbledore encourages the professors of each subject to run clubs to provide more targeted instruction…” “Mr.
Weasley, I wonder if you would be interested in joining my Transfiguration Club?” Her face felt slightly warm, feeling a bit like she was poaching talent from another house.
Even so, she looked at Vaughn expectantly.
For while professors had the authority to invite, those invited naturally had the right to refuse.
Under her eager gaze, Vaughn smiled and said: “I would be honored, Professor McGonagall.” …
“So, you’ve joined the Transfiguration Club?” Hermione gasped in astonishment at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.
“Of course.
Professor McGonagall said my level is already high enough, and the current class can’t teach me much more.
The other members of the club are at least fourth-years; that’s where I can actually keep learning instead of wasting time in class.” Vaughn filled out a form while eating—the application for the club.
Hermione stared at it, her eyes practically shining, and she asked hesitantly, “If—I mean, if I can perfectly turn a match into a needle like you did today, would I have a chance too?” “Not necessarily,” Vaughn thought for a moment.
“But when the time comes, you can ask Professor McGonagall and try applying.” The words had barely left his mouth when he saw Hermione hastily grab two pieces of bread and dash off toward the library like a gust of wind.
Clearly, she had found a new motivation to strive for!
Sitting next to them, Harry and Ron, who had been eavesdropping the entire time, exchanged looks.
The two were already beginning to show their underachieving nature.
Everything at Hogwarts was full of novelty to them.
Studying?
Wasn’t playing around much more appealing?
They couldn’t quite comprehend Hermione’s envy and ambition.
Nor did they feel that Vaughn joining some club and taking extra classes was anything to celebrate.
At the very least, Ron was far more bothered by the silver serpent crest on Vaughn’s chest.
Seeing Vaughn still sitting at the Gryffindor table and even snatching a piece of roast meat from him, he finally couldn’t help but snap, “Why don’t you go over to the Slytherin table instead of stealing ours?
You’re just taking advantage of Harry because he’s easy to pick on, aren’t you?” Harry: “?” He really didn’t understand the Weasleys…
Vaughn didn’t say a word.
He finished his roast meat at a leisurely pace, then pulled a small pouch from his bag and opened it.
Inside was a brand-new, complete wand-care kit!
Ron’s eyes went wide, and Harry thought he could actually hear him gulp.
This routine was all too familiar!
Ron’s face flushed red, a mix of desire and anger.
He wanted nothing more than to grab that pouch and hurl it right into Vaughn’s smug face.
But his years of being bullied, combined with the exorbitant price of the wand-care kit, sapped him of his courage.
According to past experience, Vaughn, that absolute devil, would undoubtedly use his desire once again to tempt him into submission.
He decided that no matter what, he would not yield today.
This was a Gryffindor’s conviction when facing a Slytherin!
Then, he felt a hand gently pat his head.
“Take it, Ron.
You’ll need it for Charms class this afternoon…
Study hard, and stop slacking off!” By the time Ron looked up again, Vaughn had already walked far away, leaving only the open pouch sitting on the bench.
Ron watched his brother’s figure recede further and further, until it finally disappeared around the corner.
Watching all of this, Harry suddenly noticed Ron’s eyes welling up with tears.
His normally boisterous friend was now sniffling like a schoolchild, tears streaming down his face as he reached out, clutched the wand-care kit to his chest, and held it tight.
“Harry,” Ron sobbed, “Slytherins aren’t all bad, are they?” Harry suddenly understood.
Ron had actually been worried that his brother would change; he just hadn’t known how to express it.
Patting him gently on the shoulder, Harry nodded firmly.
“Yeah!” On the other side.
Walking toward the Slytherin common room, Vaughn hummed a cheerful tune.
Who said he only had one trick up his sleeve?