—Projectile Mastery and Metamorphic Transformation Theory
Wyzett explained, "Professor McGonagall asked me to look up some information on Animagi. I don't intend to actually practice the magic."
"Oh, Professor McGonagall?" Madam Pince replied, her tone flat as ever. "Metamorphic Transformation Theory, Transfiguration section, shelf one-oh-three, seventh row."
She added, much more sternly this time, "And remember—absolutely no scribbling in the book!"
The library had been magically expanded countless times over the years. Of all the subjects, Potions and Transfiguration took up the largest sections, sprawling across vast areas.
Thousands upon thousands of bookshelves filled the library, forming hundreds of narrow aisles, each lined with an endless variety of books.
It was Wyzett's first time venturing so deep into the heart of the library.
Many of the books here were ancient—far more unruly than anything in Flourish and Blotts. Some of them even talked.
A few muttered in cryptic, barely audible voices. Others would suddenly let out a piercing howl. Some whispered temptations in the dark...
"#@*?%&!..."
"Filth! All filth! Defiling Hogwarts! Magic belongs to pure-blood families!"
"Open me... Power is calling to you! Possess me and you can have everything! Escape death!"
Far from being frightened, Wyzett found it all rather fascinating. He even activated his Oculus Magicae to take a closer look.
As he suspected, the library—having stood since Hogwarts was founded—was saturated with ancient magical power.
Even walking a single aisle, the ancient magic he absorbed was substantial—enough to turn to the next page in The Wizard's Practical Combat Guide.
Ancient Magic: Projectile Mastery: Harness ancient magic to imbue objects with hidden power, which detonates upon striking a target.
From the description, this was an offensive ability with a stealthy edge—perfect for catching an opponent off guard.
Wyzett paused, taking a moment to digest and understand the new skill.
He quickly realized Projectile Mastery was anything but simple. It worked in tandem with other spells.
Combined with a Summoning Charm, he could call objects from his surroundings and launch them as weapons; paired with Transfiguration, he could conjure projectiles out of thin air...
He could even use ancient magic as "fuel," boosting a projectile's speed for a surprise attack—like hitting the nitro in a racing game.
Best of all, even barehanded, the skill still packed a punch.
If he'd had this power in his previous life, he might've considered a career as a shot-putter, basketball player, or baseball pitcher.
Wyzett shook his head with a soft chuckle. "But I much prefer magic."
Once the ancient magic was depleted, the bizarre voices faded to barely a whisper, faint as mosquitoes.
He pressed on, taking about five minutes to reach the shelf Madam Pince had mentioned.
He found Metamorphic Transformation Theory—a book bound in jet-black leather, its cover etched with intricate gold patterns.
The design reminded him of the Vitruvian Man.
Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man depicted a figure standing with arms outstretched in both a cross and a star shape.
But this illustration was far more complex—within the circle and rectangle, it contained anatomical sketches of countless animals.
Wyzett could make out familiar shapes: pig, dog, cow, sheep, lion, tiger, elephant, and more.
He opened the book. Instead of a preface, the first thing he saw was a line of floating magical text:
No scribbling in the books! Not even Headmaster Dumbledore is exempt! —Irma Pince
Wyzett smiled to himself. That was just like Madam Pince—fiercely protective of her collection.
The magical text shimmered and shifted, morphing into a new message:
It's true. When I tried to write annotations, this book actually flew up and hit me on the head. It hurt quite a lot—so be careful. —Albus Dumbledore
Wyzett nearly laughed out loud. Still, he wondered—would Dumbledore really leave a note like that?
The Dumbledore he knew was a gentle, kindly old man. He could hardly imagine him leaving such a playful message.
But curiosity about the book's contents quickly won out. Wyzett reached forward and turned the page.
As his hand touched the paper, the magical writing vanished, revealing the true preface.
[Metamorphic transformation is a topic that sparks endless debate among wizards. Many claim to have altered their very essence, believing they've reached new heights in Transfiguration...
As someone who loves to get to the bottom of things, I've found, after talking to these wizards, a rather sad truth—they don't even understand themselves, yet think they've achieved some higher state...
In this book, I will serve as your guide, helping you deconstruct yourself, recognize your true nature, and even deconstruct all things, so that you may go further along the path of Transfiguration magic...]
After reading the preface, Wyzett was utterly captivated. He couldn't wait to turn the page.
The book contained not only the author's insights, but also margin notes—commentaries and personal thoughts.
By combining the main text and the annotations, Wyzett felt his understanding of Transfiguration deepen considerably.
He even began to form a vague idea—a path of Transfiguration magic unique to him.
Now, he had reason to believe that second magical message really had been left by Headmaster Dumbledore.
"Focus... Start with what you know best... Relax... Don't let pressure control you. Find a place of reflection..."
Wyzett read and experimented at the same time. He plucked a strand of his own hair and set it on the floor, picturing a familiar garden in his mind.
Wand tip hovering above the hair, he whispered, "Vera Verto!"
The hair swelled, transforming into a palm-sized object—a leaf-shaped bookmark.
Wyzett compared his creation to the diagrams in the book, refining the details. The color grew more vibrant, the veins more pronounced—almost like a real leaf...
Suddenly, he felt a creator's thrill, as if he could truly conjure something from nothing.
He seemed to hear Luna's voice in his ear: "You need to have a wish..."
"My wish is for it to become a real leaf," Wyzett murmured. His wand glowed emerald, bathing the bookmark in green light.
In his mind's eye, a branch appeared, sprouting from a stump with several lush, green leaves, exuding a faint scent of sandalwood...
Imagination became reality. The leaf bookmark stretched outward, its texture softening, color deepening with life, and even a tiny branch began to grow...
"Wyzett! Wyzett!" Suddenly, Anthony reached over and shook him from his trance.
"Come on, we need to hurry! If we're any later, there won't be anything left in the Great Hall. And don't forget, we've got Quidditch tryouts to watch this afternoon!"
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