To be favored by Hufflepuff is a truly delightful experience.
At breakfast, Wyzett could always count on receiving an assortment of jams from his Hufflepuff classmates, each boasting its own unique flavor.
According to Hannah and the others, these jams were a special treat reserved for teachers—only Hufflepuffs had the privilege of tasting them.
Wyzett had to admit, each "teacher's special" was distinct and delicious in its own right.
With his Oculus Magicae, he could glimpse the magical sigils woven into every jar—the very source of their enchanting flavors.
Around midday, a sleek-feathered owl swept into the Great Hall.
It circled once overhead before landing neatly on Wyzett's shoulder.
He stroked Sol's crest feathers gently. "Thank you, Sol. All that flying back and forth must have worn you out."
"Hoo…" Sol nuzzled his cheek with his beak, then took off again, likely heading for the Owlery and a well-earned rest.
No sooner had Wyzett detached the envelope than his roommates turned to him, curiosity sparkling in their eyes.
Christopher leaned in, eyeing the envelope ringed with mistletoe. "Who sent you this? Looks awfully fancy for a letter."
"Must be Wyzett's sister," Michael declared, sharp as ever.
"It's from her," Wyzett confirmed, opening the envelope. Inside were a short letter, a tiny bottle, and a Dirigible Plum pendant.
"What's that?" his roommates pressed closer. "A carrot-shaped pendant? Never seen anything like it!"
Terry peered at the bottle. "What's inside? Seeds?"
"Dirigible Plum seeds," Wyzett nodded, holding up the pendant. "And this is a Dirigible Plum pendant. Supposedly, it helps you accept the unusual."
Anthony frowned. "Dirigible Plums? Accept the unusual? Will it keep me awake in History of Magic?"
"Professor Binns' class has its own kind of magic," Wyzett replied with a grin. "If you get used to his voice, you might actually learn something."
"As for the Dirigible Plum's effects, Luna says it varies from person to person. For me, it works wonders."
Terry looked tempted. "Will you plant those seeds? Maybe we can try them too!"
Michael teased, "Maybe you just need a crafty little sister to make you a pendant…"
Wyzett ignored the banter, his mind lingering on Luna's letter.
Her reply was simple—a gentle account of her day.
She'd harvested Dirigible Plums in the garden, savored sweet Chocolate Frogs, painted a picture in her bedroom…
She mentioned Xenophilius's praise, and the Dirigible Plum pendant, hoping it would bring him inspiration.
Wyzett slipped the pendant over his neck. As he gazed at the rosy Dirigible Plum, his thoughts drifted across the Scottish Highlands, back to that magical garden where the extraordinary was simply part of life…
That afternoon brought Transfiguration class—a joint lesson with Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.
When Wyzett entered, a cluster of Gryffindors was gathered around the podium.
With Professor McGonagall yet to arrive, they were doing their best to amuse the tabby cat perched atop the desk.
They joked and played, but the cat remained utterly unmoved.
Wyzett frowned. There was something oddly familiar about the tabby. He was sure he'd seen it before.
Then he remembered—the last time he'd faced a Runespoor, a cat just like this had appeared. That cat had been none other than Professor McGonagall herself.
With the Gryffindors' laughter filling the room, Wyzett's roommates wanted to join in, but he quickly called them back.
Anthony lingered at his seat, still watching the cat. "Don't you like cats? Look at those markings—especially the black spots around its eyes. They look just like glasses frames!"
Wyzett explained, "That's no ordinary cat. It's—"
Before he could finish, the bell rang loud and clear.
The tabby sprang from the podium, leaping forward—and transformed in midair into a stern, robed woman.
"Professor McGonagall."
"Professor McGonagall!" the Gryffindors yelped, scrambling back to their seats.
They sat bolt upright, faces tense, trying desperately to look innocent.
Anthony leaned over, whispering, "How did you know?"
Wyzett replied quietly, "You said it yourself—the black spots around her eyes look like glasses frames. That's a rare pattern."
Professor McGonagall fixed the class with a steely gaze. "Perhaps you think Transfiguration is as harmless as a kitten—something you can play with, free of consequence."
"But the truth is, this is the most complex and dangerous branch of magic you'll study at Hogwarts. I do not wish to see any of you hurt—or worse."
"Anyone who thinks they can fool around in my classroom will be asked to leave. Permanently. Better that than letting arrogance lead to disaster. I expect you to remember this."
Seeing her students nod hastily, she allowed her tone to soften. "For your first Transfiguration lesson, what you need to master isn't the incantations—it's caution."
"Approach Transfiguration with care. Even when it appears as harmless as a kitten, always be wary. You never know when it might become your worst fear."
"That's enough warnings. Turn to page four of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. We'll start by learning the proper technique…"
Transfiguration truly was a complex subject.
Even though Wyzett had copied A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by hand, much of it still eluded him.
At times like this, a brilliant guide made all the difference—and Professor McGonagall was just that.
Drawing on her vast experience, she broke down the textbook's dense theory, making even the most obscure concepts surprisingly clear.
Half the class flew by as Professor McGonagall led them from the basics into deeper waters. Then, at last, it was time for practical magic.
She handed each student a matchstick. The task was simple—transform the match into a needle.
After half a lesson of theory, the students were eager to begin.
Soon, the classroom was alive with a flurry of whispered incantations.
But as Professor McGonagall had warned, Transfiguration might look as innocent as a cat, but it could be tricky—and even dangerous.
With a burst of multicolored light, some students' matches exploded with a bang, shattering into showers of sparks that flew in all directions.
Professor McGonagall reacted instantly, flicking her wand to transform the flying sparks into a flock of tiny birds.
They chirped sweetly, circled the classroom, and vanished in a twinkle.
"Focus! Caution!" she called above the noise. "Your aim must be precise! Picture the needle—its shape, its size, its texture!"
Her effortless demonstration only fueled the students' excitement.
Before long, Professor McGonagall reached Wyzett's desk.
She'd noticed he hadn't rushed to cast the spell, but had instead closed his eyes in concentration.
Sensing her gaze, Wyzett opened his eyes.
He'd spent the past moments building a vivid mental image—now, all he needed was the incantation.
"Vera Verto!"
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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