Led by Hannah, several Hufflepuff girls were itching to act but hadn't yet made up their minds.
As the time for class drew nearer, they felt Professor McGonagall would arrive any moment. Not wanting to miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Hannah, along with Bones and Juliet, approached with snacks in hand.
'Damn it.'
Wayne's eyes widened.
'Where did you get catnip?!'
Just then, the tabby cat surrounded by the girls suddenly revealed a human-like smile, leapt backwards, and transformed back into Professor McGonagall's usual stern demeanour.
"Miss Abbott, Miss Livingstone, such reckless behaviour is ill-advised in the wizarding world—especially when you cannot discern the true nature of the creature before you."
Glancing at the catnip, the corner of Professor McGonagall's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.
Truly, Hufflepuff students—always managing to procure the most peculiar plants.
"P-P-Professor McGonagall!" The young witches were terrified, stammering uncontrollably.
"Very well. Class is about to begin—return to your seats." At her words, the girls fled back to their places as if granted a reprieve, their faces still pale with lingering fear.
Even the other students who had been watching the spectacle were startled, sitting bolt upright in anticipation of the lesson.
This was one of McGonagall's signature tactics—transforming into her Animagus form during the first-year orientation to assert authority, a method that never failed.
Soon, the bell rang, and Professor McGonagall shifted into teaching mode. "Transfiguration is the most dangerous and complex magic you will study at Hogwarts."
"Anyone who dares to misbehave in my class will be expelled—permanently."
The Deputy Headmaster's aura was overwhelming; the room fell utterly silent. Even Malfoy and his cronies shrank back in their seats.
Though Slytherin had Snape's protection, no one could shield them once Professor McGonagall was truly angered.
On the podium, McGonagall waved her hand, and the blackboard filled with dense text—the renowned Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. This was the foundation, the ironclad rule of all Transfiguration.
Every student had to memorise these principles before proceeding, lest they cause irreversible harm.
The young witches scribbled notes furiously—Wayne included, though he was selective, skipping what he already knew to save ink.
Once they finished, McGonagall tapped her wand on the desk, transforming it into a pig.
The trick instantly captivated the class, eliciting gasps and wide-eyed excitement where boredom had lingered moments before.
A veteran professor with decades of experience, McGonagall's teaching prowess was undeniable—she knew exactly what young witches and wizards craved.
Each student received a matchstick. Their goal for this lesson—indeed, for the entire month—was to turn it into a needle.
Transfiguration was categorised by difficulty: inanimate to inanimate, animate to inanimate, inanimate to animate, and animate to animate. Each tier grew exponentially harder.
And yet, even the first lesson stumped them all. Hannah jabbed at her matchstick so fiercely she nearly snapped her wand, but it remained stubbornly unchanged. Her deskmate Susan had improved considerably, successfully turning the matchstick green within five minutes.
"Change, change, change, just change already!"
Malfoy gritted his teeth, stabbing with his wand repeatedly. Bang!
A burst of fireworks shot from its tip, nearly blowing up his desk.
"Mr Malfoy, I've told you to concentrate. Anger serves no purpose here."
Professor McGonagall frowned as she reprimanded him: "One point from Slytherin for your recklessness."
"Yes, Professor, I understand." Not daring to argue, Malfoy could only fetch another matchstick.
"This is too difficult." Toby made his matchstick flash silver momentarily, initially thinking he'd succeeded, only to realise it hadn't changed at all.
"It's not so bad. Just focus completely on the matchstick without worrying about success or failure."
Wayne casually offered advice while giving his wand a flick, transforming his matchstick into a silver needle with one thick end and one thin end, complete with intricate patterns on the thicker portion.
Coincidentally, McGonagall happened to pass by just then. Both surprised and delighted by his success, she exclaimed, "Perfect, Mr Lawrence!"
This single feat was something many young wizards couldn't accomplish in an entire term. She regarded Wayne with appreciation: "You have remarkable talent for Transfiguration. Keep up the excellent work, Mr Lawrence. Five points to Hufflepuff."
"Thank you, Professor," Wayne replied politely.
Toby and Norman at the front desk stared at Wayne as if he were a traitor.
"Didn't you say you'd never been exposed to magic before? How did you succeed immediately?"
"Liar!"
Wayne retorted unapologetically, "I did some previewing when bored during summer holidays. What's the problem?"
Toby muttered, "What decent person previews coursework? It shows utter distrust in the professor's teaching abilities!"
'Well, well, aren't you the eloquent one?'
Many students gazed at Wayne with envy, while Slytherins mostly regarded him with jealousy. That a Muggle-born wizard had accomplished what these pure-bloods couldn't was nothing short of a slap in the face.
Unfortunately, by lesson's end, no other student had succeeded. The closest attempt only slightly altered the matchstick's shape without changing its material.
Still, McGonagall was pleasantly surprised to have even one success, and she exempted Wayne from that week's Transfiguration homework—much to Toby and Norman's crimson-faced envy. Yet nothing could distract the badgers from their meals.
When class ended, young wizards rushed towards the Great Hall with their satchels, making Wayne's leisurely pace seem peculiar by comparison.
Head bowed in thought as he walked slowly towards the dining hall, Wayne contemplated money-making schemes. Last night's probing had revealed how much pocket money many students carried. Early term was when their purses were fullest—he needed to act quickly before their funds dwindled.
So absorbed was he in these thoughts that Wayne failed to notice the girl approaching from around the corner.
They collided abruptly.
"Ouch!"
The crisp exclamation startled Wayne from his reverie. "Sorry, are you alright?"
The black-haired girl who'd fallen before him rubbed her forehead as she stood, revealing delicate, refined features.
"It's nothing, just my forehead hurts a bit."
"My apologies, I wasn't watching where I was going while thinking."