Having successfully cast his first spell, Vincent decided to keep practicing while the feeling was still fresh.
His first thought was to restore the pigeon’s feathers to their original color.
Unfortunately, after its initial fright, the bird seemed rather pleased with its brilliant new appearance.
It fluttered happily through the air, skillfully dodging every Color-Change Charm Vincent sent after it.
Finally, it landed atop a nearby rooftop and proudly strutted among the other pigeons, as if showing off its fashionable new plumage.
“…Even the pigeons in the wizarding world have strange tastes.”
Unable to catch his moving target, Vincent turned his attention to the pebbles beneath his feet.
Gray became red.
Red became blue.
Blue became emerald green.
Then multicolored.
With Transfiguration Mastery, mastering simple transformation spells was astonishingly easy.
After only a handful of attempts, changing an object’s color had become second nature.
He continued working through A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration.
Turning a match into a needle.
A button into a marble.
A feather into a leaf.
Each spell required only one or two attempts before he could perform it reliably.
“So…”
“I really am a wizard.”
Only that morning, he had been dreaming of learning magic.
By afternoon, he was already standing in Diagon Alley with a wand in hand, freely casting spells.
“The only downside is that these beginner spells are a little too simple.”
Transfiguration demanded an exceptionally solid foundation.
As a result, introductory textbooks focused almost entirely on repetitive practice.
Compared to it, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection looked far more exciting, introducing practical defensive magic from the very beginning.
Meanwhile, A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration devoted well over two hundred pages to transforming one everyday object into another.
The entire book contained barely sixty pages beyond those introductory exercises.
“Maybe once I’m at Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall will let me study advanced Transfiguration early.”
Just then, raised voices interrupted his thoughts.
“Watch where you’re going!”
“You bumped into me!”
“And you stepped on my brand-new robes!”
A tall boy had grabbed another child by the front of his robes.
“I-I’m sorry…”
“I didn’t mean to…”
“You were standing in front of the shop…”
“I was only trying to get past…”
The other boy was short and chubby.
His face had turned bright red from having his collar seized.
Like Vincent, both boys were carrying newly purchased Hogwarts robes.
Apparently, they were also first-year students.
The taller boy glared at him.
“Sorry?”
“You think ‘sorry’ fixes everything?”
“I’ll clean them!” the chubby boy said nervously.
“I really will!”
“My robes are ruined.”
“You think cleaning them is enough?”
The taller boy showed no intention of letting the matter go.
Bullying…
before Hogwarts has even started?
Vincent closed his book and walked over.
The taller boy suddenly squinted at the frightened child.
“Oh.”
“I know you.”
A mocking grin spread across his face.
“Longbottom!”
“Where’s your grandmother today?”
“Did Granny’s precious little boy wander off by himself?”
The surname caught Vincent’s attention.
He looked more carefully.
Round face.
Short.
A perpetually nervous expression.
Neville Longbottom…
Although he looked somewhat different from the films, he perfectly matched the descriptions from the novels.
Vincent then examined the bully.
Large build.
Thick neck.
A perpetually vacant expression.
Gregory Goyle.
One of Draco Malfoy’s closest followers.
Vincent couldn’t help recalling the future.
Neville, timid and insecure today, would one day become one of the bravest defenders of Hogwarts, drawing the Sword of Gryffindor from the Sorting Hat and killing Nagini.
Goyle, meanwhile, would follow the Death Eaters and ultimately help unleash the Fiendfyre that destroyed Ravenclaw’s lost diadem.
“My… my grandmother went to St. Mungo’s today…”
“I told her I could manage by myself…”
Goyle sneered.
“Oh?”
“What was so important that she left her precious grandson behind?”
“Did she go to visit your mad—”
That was enough.
Vincent stepped between them and calmly placed a hand on Goyle’s wrist.
“It was an accident.”
“Let him go.”
Goyle blinked in surprise.
Then, realizing Vincent was simply another first-year, his expression darkened.
“Get lost.”
“This doesn’t concern you.”
He shoved Neville aside and swung a fist toward Vincent.
Vincent calmly flicked his wand.
“Colovaria.”
A flash of light struck Goyle’s shoe.
Nothing appeared to happen.
Confident that his punch would land, Goyle stepped forward—
—and his leather shoe suddenly became as soft as cloth.
His foot slipped.
He stumbled awkwardly.
Then crashed face-first onto the cobblestones.
Thud.
The surrounding witches and wizards, who had already begun watching the confrontation, burst into laughter.
Vincent looked down at him.
“See?”
“Anyone can have an accident.”
“You…”
Goyle’s face turned even redder than Neville’s had been.
His brand-new robes were now covered in dust.
Vincent pointed at them.
“Would you like me to help clean them?”
The laughter around them grew louder.
Unable to endure the humiliation any longer, Goyle hastily gathered his belongings, pulled off his ruined shoe, and fled down the street.
Vincent watched him leave.
“…He gave up far too quickly.”
“I was hoping to practice a few more Transfiguration spells.”
A moment later, hurried footsteps approached from behind.
“Th-thank you…”
Neville jogged over, breathing heavily.
He was still rather overweight at this age, and the short run had already left him panting.
“You… you helped me.”
“I’m Neville Longbottom.”
“What’s your name?”
“Vincent Aydon.”
“Nice to meet you.”
There was no need to thank him.
He hadn’t intervened because Neville would someday become a hero.
He would have done exactly the same for anyone being bullied.
If he ignored something so obviously wrong simply because it wasn’t his business…
Then what was the point of possessing the abilities he had been given?
“N-no…”
“I have to thank you.”
“My grandmother always says that if someone helps you, you must repay them.”
Neville scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
“Well…”
“I don’t always listen to everything she says…”
“But this part is important.”
He looked at Vincent earnestly.
“Please.”
“Let me repay you.”
“Anything.”
Vincent was about to refuse.
Then a thought suddenly occurred to him.
He smiled.
“In that case…”
“Could you lend me a little money?”