Chapter 135: Expert Transfiguration
In the afternoons, Shawn practised Transfiguration in Professor McGonagall's office.
The room, with its fierce fireplace flames, felt different from anywhere else. She always seemed to ask countless questions without meaning to.
"Mr Green."
Her voice was as precise as ever, but far gentler than it was in class.
"I think the cold at Hogwarts in November can sometimes cut to the bone."
Shawn turned to look at her.
Through her square spectacles, her sharp gaze landed on his tie, still untidied, and on the thin robe he had just changed into in the greenhouse cubicle. The greenhouses had been too hot, and he had forgotten to put his jumper back on once he returned to the castle.
"Hogwarts," she said slowly, each word carrying weight, "for many students who come here, is not merely a school. I think you would know that."
Shawn nodded quietly.
For two months now, sometimes he would lift his head and gaze up at the night sky.
The stars of the wizarding world were always bright. To Shawn, they did not look very different from half a year ago.
Only now, there was a little more hope.
"You do not need to face the first snowstorm of a Scottish Highlands winter alone anymore," Professor McGonagall said, a softness gathering at the corners of her eyes, before she added, "At Hogwarts, that is not permitted. Now…"
Her voice snapped back to its usual briskness. She tapped lightly with her wand, and Shawn's tie straightened and knotted itself properly.
"There are twenty minutes until dinner. Enough time for you to go back and put on a thick jumper. I expect to see you in the Great Hall, on time, and with a healthy appetite."
When Shawn left the classroom, she lowered her head slightly, robes swaying as she turned away. Her footsteps echoed along the stone passage, leaving behind a tall, unbending silhouette.
…
As the snowfall grew heavier by the day, Shawn's understanding of the fusion enlightenment method deepened as well. One evening, as a window rattled and banged in the wind, he brewed an [Entry]‑level Elixir to Induce Euphoria.
Professor Snape's expression shifted again and again, but he hid it well, never letting Shawn see.
With success in hand, Shawn continued refining the fusion enlightenment method. In a few more days, he would be able to form a complete system.
Today, however, he was still thrown out of the dungeon.
"Clumsy technique. Quality propped up only by your idiotic method. Shawn Green, if you are not blind, you will have noticed the appalling ingredient ratios you produced. Imbecile!"
Even though Shawn corrected mistakes and improved every time, in Snape's eyes he was still not much better than a troll.
Occasionally, those deep black eyes would turn complicated.
In some areas—areas worth writing down—he showed the talent of a top-class Potions master. In others, which did not matter in the slightest, he was an utter idiot.
The contrast drove Snape to fury, and he sometimes gritted his teeth as he snarled,
"Fool. Foolish heat. Foolish timing. Foolish stirring technique. Out!"
Shawn rarely heard anything pleasant before leaving, but he automatically ignored the mockery, so every time he walked out of the dungeon he still felt he had gained a great deal.
Under Snape's intensive "guidance," all three of Shawn's basic potions reached [Proficient]. Three times a week, he could earn ten Galleons or more from the professor.
Combined with the strong sales of his notes, his purse was growing heavier and heavier.
If only he could find the twins, his progress would be even faster.
Unlike Shawn's calm, deep satisfaction, Harry had been miserable lately.
Captain Wood had heard that the Ravenclaw Quidditch team had invited Green. Recently, Wood had gone nearly mad with extra training.
But the Green Compendium had not been updated to cover the current material, so Harry was badly behind in his studies.
Ever since he had lost Quidditch Through the Ages and sent Shawn on a "dangerous" trip to the caretaker's office, Hermione had barely spoken to him for three days.
After that she was willing to help them, but she absolutely refused to let them copy her homework.
"What would you learn from that?" she always said.
Even so, once she had gone over their work, Harry and Ron could usually work their way to the correct answers.
The frightening part was that Harry was rapidly running out of even that time.
And whenever he thought about Shawn not liking Quidditch, Harry felt like, in Shawn's eyes, he was a baboon holding a wand.
What was the difference?
Either way, Shawn could have flattened them with a single spell.
They had thought about waiting for him in the corridor like before, but Shawn had changed his routine lately. They even considered going to Justin, yet after Gryffindor had just played Hufflepuff and won, Harry felt far too awkward to show his face.
Even Justin's expression had started to turn a bit strange. They could not really look that pathetic… could they?
That day, it was another bright Sunday.
In the courtyard, a fire salamander darted about wildly. Just as it was about to spring onto Hermione's shoe, it abruptly stopped.
Shawn flicked his wand. It suddenly swelled to more than three times its size, becoming as large as a Bludger, then slowly backed towards him, scorching a path through the thin snow.
[You practised advanced Transfiguration once at Expert standard, Proficiency +1000]
That was… how much?
Shawn had never seen proficiency jump by that much. He understood why a moment later.
"Shawn!" Justin grabbed him fast, catching the young wizard as his strength gave out for an instant. Shawn fought for breath, then slowly steadied.
His stamina had been drained empty in one violent pull.
"Shawn!" Hermione's concern always hid behind an angry face.
"I warned you. Advanced Transfiguration, in deeper fields, can easily drain you dry."
After a sip of steaming honey tea, Shawn felt much better.
Just now, he had solved the problem that had been troubling him for a long time.
When casting advanced Transfiguration, he had pursued imitation of magical creatures too obsessively, and in doing so, he had forgotten that Transfiguration was driven first and foremost by a wizard's will.
So whenever he chased raw power, the fire salamander would gradually slip beyond his control.
But when he truly pressed his will fully onto the salamander, the stamina cost rose sharply.
With a first year's magical reserves, it was very easy to run himself empty.
At the far end of the courtyard, meanwhile, a conflict was brewing.
Already in a foul mood, Harry and Ron were talking.
"It is the weekend, Harry. How is your homework going?" Ron wailed, face hanging.
"Not a word," Harry said. He looked slightly better than Ron, but not by much.
"The Green Compendium is apparently another week away, but I am finished this week!"
A week's worth of piled‑up homework was no small thing.
"Ha. Two Gryffindor idiots. You really think you can—"
Malfoy walked past, glancing around.
Snow was drifting thickly, obscuring his view. He could not see anything, only Harry's unhappy face.
So Malfoy's mood lifted at once, and he mocked them loudly.