Sean never slacked off on his Transfiguration studies. He firmly believed it was one of the most practical and versatile types of magic, whether for dueling or everyday life.
Almost every great wizard had some skill in Transfiguration, and the truly legendary ones—like Headmaster Dumbledore or Gellert Grindelwald—were absolute masters of it.
Thanks to his unique talent, Sean always made rapid progress with advanced Transfiguration, especially turning objects into magical creations.
With a flick of his wand, a fire crab scuttled out of the fireplace.
"Remarkable!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed. It was rare for a young wizard, especially a lower-year student, to master multiple advanced Transfiguration forms.
This was a field that demanded years of dedicated study.
McGonagall was about to say more when a fire salamander darted out of the fireplace, leaving a blazing trail across the floor before merging into intricate patterns on the fire crab's shell.
Minerva McGonagall nodded approvingly. That was some impressive Transfiguration.
But when she glanced at Sean, she saw he was still deeply focused.
In the Transfiguration classroom...
The fire crab began to swell, growing as large as a chair, its claws clacking loudly as it loomed in front of Sean, who was still waving his wand.
He was visibly straining now, but his eyes burned with determination. He hadn't hit his limit yet.
Sean finally understood why Dumbledore's entire body seemed to sway with a strange rhythm when casting Fiendfyre.
He felt himself slipping into that same state now, guided by the instinct of magic itself.
He'd always followed McGonagall's teachings, never pushing himself to the edge of losing control. But today, he wanted to test the limits of advanced Transfiguration.
The fire crab kept growing until it touched the classroom ceiling—an awe-inspiring sight, even if it only lasted two seconds.
What was even more incredible was the fire salamander's patterns still etched across its shell. This was multi-layered Transfiguration.
It made the spell more complex, more stable, and nearly impossible to undo with a simple counter-charm.
Sean had been experimenting with multi-layered Transfiguration ever since he mastered advanced techniques. He knew single-layer spells were too easily countered.
In wizard duels, it all came down to casting and countering—spells like Finite Incantatem or anti-Dark Magic charms were designed to unravel enchantments.
Now, his spells were like a locked vault. Breaking through his Transfiguration in a short time was incredibly tough—and even if someone managed it, he probably wouldn't last more than a few seconds anyway.
"That was—" McGonagall lifted her head, watching as the fire crab dissolved into flames and surged back into the fireplace.
The dim hearth roared back to life.
Outside the door, a few senior Ravenclaws peeking through the crack were dumbfounded.
"Is that really a first-year? I couldn't do that in my fifth year," Troy, a Quidditch player, said, mouth agape.
"I must be dreaming—" Roger Davies muttered, pinching himself.
A stifled yelp followed.
"You could've pinched yourself, Davies!" Troy hissed angrily.
"It hurts, doesn't it?" Roger grinned sheepishly.
"Duel me, you idiot! Because of your screw-up, Transfiguration's got another Dumbledore in the making, but Quidditch lost its Eunice Murray!" Troy fumed.
He was talking about Eunice Murray, the legendary Seeker for the Montrose Magpies, the most successful team in the British and Irish Quidditch League with thirty-two League Cups and two European Cups. They had fans worldwide.
Murray's famous quote? "Make the Snitch faster—right now, it's way too easy to catch!"
"No way, he's more like Roderick Plumpton," another Ravenclaw chimed in, raising his wand. "Duel me, Davies, just you and me!"
Roderick Plumpton, captain of the Tutshill Tornados, led his team to five straight League Cups, setting a British and Irish record. He was England's core player twenty-two times and held the British record for catching the Snitch in three and a half seconds during a 1921 match against the Caerphilly Catapults.
What makes people feel crushing regret? Missing something they could've had. That regret grows with every passing day they dwell on it.
Roger Davies bolted, with the furious Ravenclaw Quidditch team hot on his heels.
Penelope, watching silently, thought if they could channel that energy into teamwork, Ravenclaw might actually have a shot at the Quidditch Cup this year. They could break Slytherin's seven-year streak.
With Sean Green on their side, they were unstoppable—whether it was earning house points from professors or dominating on the Quidditch pitch.
This was their best chance yet, even if it meant using a few sneaky tactics to help Ravenclaw pull it off!
Back in the Transfiguration classroom, Minerva McGonagall was just as thrilled.
"Unbelievable! I'm so proud of you, my—child," she said instinctively.
Penelope, the prefect eavesdropping outside, felt like she'd hit the wizarding lottery. Her hands clasped together, her breath fogging the window.
She carefully lifted her Muffliato and Disillusionment charms, then hurried away from the Transfiguration classroom door.
Everyone was buzzing with excitement—Sean included.
[You've practiced advanced Transfiguration at a master's level, +3000 proficiency]
This was his first time pulling off master-level advanced Transfiguration. For those two seconds, he could've held his own against an average professor—or, well, maybe an average Auror.
Sure, his Transfiguration was master-level, but that didn't mean his actual combat skills were there yet.
In a real fight, no wizard would give him that long to cast, and the spell only lasted two seconds.
Still, there was no denying it—he could hide in the shadows and catch an opponent off guard with a surprise attack.
The Transfiguration classroom fell silent.
In that quiet, McGonagall spoke softly:
"Choose your path carefully, child. I know you've heard the call from far away, and you don't need to look back at what's behind you.
Forget the past, child. Move forward."