Professor McGonagall brought Vaughn to her office.
It was located on the second floor, and from the window, one could see the Quidditch pitch.
It was a small privilege afforded to the Deputy Headmistress, satisfying her love of Quidditch.
Back in her office, Professor McGonagall seemed far less stern than usual.
She even offered Vaughn a biscuit before asking, “Mr.
Weasley, it wasn’t appropriate to ask in front of the class, but I assume you’ve been practicing Transfiguration privately at home, correct?” “Yes, Professor.
Using my brothers’ textbooks.” “I believe I’ve repeatedly emphasized how dangerous that is to your brothers.” Professor McGonagall pursed her lips.
Vaughn nodded.
“Which is why I’ve only attempted object transfiguration, Professor.
I started with small items, just as Percy recorded in his notes—simple transformations first, then gradually more complicated ones.
These are some of my observations.” He pulled out his heavily annotated copy of A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration and handed it to her.
Professor McGonagall flipped through it.
“A new book?
You reviewed everything again before starting school?” “Yes, Professor.” She said nothing further and examined it carefully.
Only after a long while did she close the book and reveal a faintly pleased smile.
“I can see that, Mr.
Weasley.
You’ve prepared thoroughly, and your records of each transformation are exceptionally detailed.” She concealed her surprise and merely sighed inwardly.
At first, Professor McGonagall had assumed Vaughn had only dabbled in Transfiguration or received some basic guidance from his brothers.
But after reading his notes, she realized his mastery had already reached an advanced level.
The evidence was on the final page of the textbook.
“…Today I successfully transformed Marmalade’s dried fish snack into a mouse.
For a brief moment, I thought I had created life, but obviously I hadn’t.
The mouse’s behavior had been predetermined by me.
It was merely a puppet that looked like a mouse.
It lacked the vitality unique to living things.
This issue exceeds my current knowledge.
How does more advanced Transfiguration solve this problem?” “Spells require corresponding emotions.
Is Transfiguration also unable to separate itself from that principle?
When changing inanimate objects into living creatures or altering one life-form into another, perhaps the key lies in the target’s thoughts and emotions?
Or perhaps memory?” To be honest, those passages had deeply shaken Professor McGonagall.
Not because of Vaughn’s progress in Transfiguration.
But because of the way he thought about and analyzed it.
Such a talented student…
Why did he have to be a Slytherin?
After hesitating for a moment, Professor McGonagall, who had spent her entire life upholding fairness and impartiality as both a teacher and Deputy Headmistress, finally said somewhat awkwardly, “Mr.
Weasley, you understand that not all students progress at the same rate.
Some students are…
more gifted…” She had never liked dividing students into categories.
But reality was reality.
She continued, “For students whose learning progresses more quickly, Headmaster Dumbledore encourages professors to organize subject clubs that provide more specialized instruction…” “Mr.
Weasley, would you be interested in joining my Transfiguration Club?” Her face felt slightly warm.
It felt as though she were secretly poaching someone else’s prized student.
Even so, she looked at Vaughn expectantly.
Professors had the right to extend invitations.
Unsurprisingly, invitees had the right to refuse.
Under her eager gaze, Vaughn smiled.
“It would be my honor, Professor McGonagall.” …
“So, you joined the Transfiguration Club?” At the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, Hermione cried out in shock.
“Of course.
Professor McGonagall said my current level is already beyond what first-year classes can teach.
The youngest members of the club are fourth-years.
If I want to keep learning, that’s where I need to be.
Otherwise I’d just be wasting time in class.” While speaking, Vaughn continued eating and filling out a form.
It was the club application form.
Hermione stared at it with shining eyes.
After hesitating for a moment, she asked, “If—I mean if—I could transform a match into a needle as perfectly as you did today, would I have a chance too?” “Not necessarily.” Vaughn thought for a moment.
“But you could always ask Professor McGonagall and see.” The moment he finished speaking, Hermione grabbed two pieces of bread and rushed toward the library like a whirlwind.
She had clearly found a new source of motivation.
Harry and Ron, who had been secretly listening beside them the entire time, exchanged glances.
The two were already beginning to display the instincts of poor students.
Everything about Hogwarts was fascinating to them.
Studying?
Wasn’t exploring and having fun far more enjoyable?
They couldn’t really understand Hermione’s admiration and ambitions.
Nor did they see any reason to celebrate Vaughn joining some club and taking even more classes.
At least Ron was far more concerned with the silver serpent badge on Vaughn’s chest.
Seeing Vaughn still sitting at the Gryffindor table—and even stealing a piece of his roast meat—he finally couldn’t hold back.
“Why don’t you go sit at the Slytherin table instead of stealing our food?
You picked on Harry because you think he’s easy to bully, right?” Harry: “?” He really didn’t understand the Weasleys.
Vaughn said nothing.
He leisurely finished the roast meat before reaching into his bag and pulling out a small pouch.
Opening it, he revealed its contents.
Inside was a brand-new, complete wand maintenance kit.
Ron’s eyes went wide.
Harry could practically hear him swallowing.
This routine was far too familiar.
Ron’s face flushed red.
He was both tempted and furious.
Part of him wanted to grab the pouch and throw it directly into Vaughn’s infuriating face.
But years of being thoroughly dominated by his older brother, combined with the considerable value of the maintenance kit, robbed him of the courage.
Based on past experience, Vaughn—the devil himself—would undoubtedly exploit his desire and tempt him into lowering his head again.
Ron decided that no matter what happened today, he would not give in.
This was a Gryffindor’s conviction in the face of a Slytherin.
Then he felt a hand pat his head.
“Take it, Ron.
You have Charms this afternoon—you’ll need it.
Study hard and stop fooling around so much.” When Ron looked up again, Vaughn was already walking away.
Only the open pouch remained on the seat.
Ron stared at his brother’s retreating figure until it disappeared around a corner.
Harry, who had witnessed everything, suddenly noticed that Ron’s eyes had turned red.
His usually carefree friend looked like an elementary school child.
Sniffling and crying openly, Ron reached out, grabbed the maintenance kit, and hugged it tightly against his chest.
Between sobs, he asked, “Harry…
Slytherins aren’t all bad people, right?” At that moment, Harry finally understood.
Ron had been worried all along that his brother would change.
He simply didn’t know how to express it.
Patting Ron’s shoulder gently, Harry nodded firmly.
“Yeah.” Meanwhile…
As Vaughn walked back toward the Slytherin common room, he happily hummed a tune.
Who said he only had one trick?