Chapter 46: Eyes in the Dark

The magical curriculum at Hogwarts is a bizarre collection of subjects.

There is Herbology, where young wizards must contend with the wits of mischievous Jumping Stalks; there is History of Magic, taught by a ghost; and there is Potions, where a single moment of distraction can lead to severe point deductions.

But if one were to ask which class is the most beloved and yet the most difficult for the young wizards, it would undoubtedly be Transfiguration.

In this class, young wizards can vent their magical power to their heart's content, changing the matchsticks before them with almost no need for rigorous steps or complex wand movements and incantations.

Professor McGonagall may look formidable, but her miraculous Transfiguration spells leave the students utterly fascinated. No one could dislike turning a teapot into an elephant that sprays water from its nose, nor could anyone refuse the chance to make a quill stand up and dance.

Yet, contrary to the students' enthusiasm, few can achieve rapid success in Transfiguration. Even Hermione, the fastest learner, has only managed to turn a matchstick into a needle with a rounded head.

So, when Sheen turned a running mouse into a snuffbox and then made it run again, the vast majority of the young wizards gathered around and let out a synchronized "Wow—"

【You have practiced Intermediate Transfiguration to a proficient standard, Proficiency +100】

Sheen had still underestimated his talent for Transfiguration; after only two weeks of practice, he had already reached the 【Proficient】 standard in Intermediate Transfiguration.

It wasn't just Sheen who was surprised; Professor McGonagall was equally astonished. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes smoothed out, and a glimmer of gratification flashed behind her square glasses.

"Very good, Mr. Green—an excellent Transfiguration. I shall award five points to Ravenclaw!"

She walked briskly toward Sheen, ignoring the gasps of the surrounding students, her eyes fixed only on Sheen, who looked slightly bashful due to his intense focus.

"Come with me after class," she said softly.

Sheen was momentarily stunned, then gave a low assent.

Transfiguration class ended quickly. The young wizards swarmed out of the classroom, leaving only Sheen and Professor McGonagall behind.

As Professor McGonagall watched Sheen, the whispers of the other students still echoed in her ears: *—rumors about a certain Ravenclaw earning the most house points, supposedly double that of the runner-up.*

The habitual sternness in her eyes gradually softened. She had brought a seed from barren soil, and now, she was watching that seed sprout and grow.

"Follow me, Mr. Green," she said, stepping briskly out of the Transfiguration classroom.

Professor McGonagall's office was not far from there. Upon pushing open the wooden door, Sheen took a few seconds to survey the room. It was a small study located off the second-floor corridor, featuring a roaring fireplace and a view of the Quidditch pitch through the window. Many students were passing by on their way to the Quidditch pitch, as the Gryffindor and Slytherin flying lessons were due to begin shortly.

"Demonstrate the Transfiguration once more."

Professor McGonagall's stern voice had unconsciously softened. Sheen quickly realized that this was private tutoring—special instruction from Professor McGonagall herself.

...

By the time he left the professor's office, his Intermediate Transfiguration had improved significantly, and he now possessed a notebook of Transfiguration notes. Professor McGonagall had answered many of his confusions and pointed him toward the true direction of Transfiguration: the wizard's will.

Like all other magic, Transfiguration is influenced by a wizard's emotions. Intense emotions, such as sadness or shock, affect this ability; even Animagi and Metamorphmagi are no exception. For instance, after Sirius Black's death, Tonks found it difficult to control her metamorphic abilities. Her physical changes included her hair turning grayish-brown and thinning, and her body becoming more gaunt.

In the corridor, Sheen was hurrying toward the dungeons. He did not follow the other Ravenclaws to the Quidditch pitch to watch the Gryffindors' flying lesson. Although he was equally interested, he always knew what he *needed* to do, rather than what he *wanted* to do.

At dusk, the corridors of Hogwarts seemed to be under some sort of slowing charm. Torches flickered on iron brackets, casting long, swaying shadows, while the napping portraits on the stone walls let out rhythmic snores. As his footsteps echoed through the arches toward the western side, the sunlight vanished completely behind the glass windows, and the air suddenly became damp and heavy.

A spiral stone staircase appeared in a recess hidden by tapestries, and a biting chill climbed up the steps. Sheen stepped onto the stairs with practiced ease, thinking to himself how he would explain his presence if he ran into Professor Snape.

Fortunately, Sheen saw nothing, and his emerald eyes brightened instantly. He moved quickly to the cauldron, lighting it, preparing materials, and retrieving his notes in one seamless motion. He had brewed at least ten batches of Scabrous Potion; in his simulations, that number would be multiplied by ten. Therefore, he was intimately familiar with every step, and could even make slight improvements.

The liquid in the cauldron emitted a bubbling sound that brought Sheen peace. Thick, dark green bubbles rose to the surface and burst continuously. Dried nettle and viper fang had been ground into a fine, emerald-green powder. Sheen carefully poured them into the cauldron in stages; each addition caused the boiling to intensify abruptly. At this moment, he had to immediately stir three times to the right—half a turn too much or too little could ruin everything.

But he did not do that.

Regarding magic, he had always understood one principle: it is a miracle of the mind, yet it is also compatible with rationality.

The study of spells had taught him that while a wizard's mental state is important, proper pronunciation and wand movements make the release of a spell much easier. Yet the young wizards—or even the professors—did not deeply realize this. If they did, the instructions for the Levitation Charm in the textbooks wouldn't just say "pronounce clearly and flick the wand." They would specify *what* constitutes clear pronunciation and *how* exactly to flick—to the left or right, with a large or small amplitude?

Regrettably, the wizarding world adheres to a philosophy of survival of the fittest. For gifted wizards, they practice according to instinct and intuition until they succeed. For those without talent, they can only repeat their practice until, by Merlin's grace, that intuition finally appears.

During Transfiguration class, Sheen had noticed more than once that Michael was simply waving his wand aimlessly; he would even perform the same incorrect movement ten times in a row. As for Sheen, he not only recorded the correct and incorrect postures and pronunciations during his transformations, but also deeply analyzed the differences between them, sometimes conducting comparative experiments until he was exhausted. Combined with a certain ancient intuition, his progress in Transfiguration was incredibly rapid.

The same applied to Potions. This intuition did not appear often, but whenever it did, Sheen was unwilling to let it slip away. Just as he was doing now, Sheen altered his stirring rhythm, following a certain intuition, and even slightly increased the heat.

The candlelight flickered in the dungeon. In a place where Sheen could not see, a pair of gloomy eyes emerged from the shadows.

(End of Chapter)