The young Gryffindors wore expressions of pure misery.
It was only the first class of the year and they had already lost five points.
So much for calling Professor McGonagall fair and just—those had been generous compliments. She was downright merciless.
"Before we begin," Professor McGonagall said, "there are a few things you must understand. First, Transfiguration is marvelous, but it is also dangerous.
You may practice it, but you must never cast a Transfiguration spell on a person.
"Second, Transfiguration cannot be used to obtain things without effort, nor to create something out of nothing. Do not even consider using it for personal gain."
The students all nodded obediently.
Satisfied, McGonagall approached her desk and tapped it lightly with her wand.
°Transfiguration°
With the spoken spell, the desk transformed instantly into a pig.
The pig landed on the stone floor with a grunt and began trotting around the front of the classroom.
The first-years stared, wide-eyed with amazement.
After wandering about for a bit, the pig strolled back to the platform and transformed neatly into a desk again, drawing another round of gasps.
Karmit stroked his chin.
That was an enviable skill.
Yes—he envied it greatly. Why? Because he could not use Transfiguration at all.
It was just like the Patronus Charm—an impossible spell for him. He had practiced Transfiguration countless times, but it never worked.
He still didn't know what the problem was.
He had always taught himself magic, and coming to Hogwarts, he truly intended to learn properly and improve.
"Now," McGonagall continued, "before casting Transfiguration, you must first master the incantation. Repeat after me: Transfiguration."
The class echoed the word several times.
"Next is the wand movement. When saying the incantation, remember: one sweep and one tap."
She demonstrated slowly while the students practiced..Karmit followed along like everyone else.
Then McGonagall scanned the room, and her gaze landed on Karmit.
"Very precise movements, Mr. Black. I imagine your Transfiguration skills are not low. Five points to Slytherin."
Karmit opened his mouth to tell her his Transfiguration was terrible, but she clearly did not intend to listen.
Instead, she clapped her hands.
"Now, you all see the matchstick on your desk? Your task today is to turn it into a silver needle. The first to succeed will earn five points for their House."
The students straightened with renewed determination—especially the Gryffindors. After losing five points, they desperately needed redemption.
Wands began waving through the air, incantations spoken enthusiastically.
Karmit did the same.
He aimed at the matchstick and recited the spell.
Nothing happened.
He frowned. Still nothing. What was going on?
Since McGonagall had noticed his precise wandwork earlier, she paid more attention to him than the others, curious to see the level of his Transfiguration.
What she saw shocked her.
Karmit's wand movement, his incantation—everything was flawless. So perfect it was almost rigid.
Yet the spell did not work.
She walked over. "It seems you're having trouble?" She was genuinely puzzled. With technique that perfect, how could he fail?
Karmit lifted his hands helplessly.
"As you can see, Professor, Transfiguration has always been a problem for me. Any other spell I learn easily, but Transfiguration…
I've practiced it for a long time and never succeeded."
McGonagall frowned. "Honestly, Mr. Black, I've never seen a case like yours. Could you try once more?"
Karmit nodded, waved his wand, spoke clearly— And again, nothing happened.
The commotion drew the attention of the class.
Students turned to look.
The pure-blood Slytherins were stunned. They hadn't expected Karmit to be bad at anything.
The Gryffindors' eyes brightened—especially Ron.
His mind filled with petty excitement.
So even an evil Black has something he can't do…
'If I transform my matchstick first—if I win points—everyone will forget what happened on the train! I'll be a hero! A Gryffindor hero!'
Since the night before, Ron's new nickname had spread across Hogwarts:
The Eleven-Year-Old Who Wet His Pants.
He desperately needed redemption.
McGonagall examined Karmit's wandwork carefully. "Mr. Black, your casting speed is too fast. At that speed, do you have time to solidify your intent?"
"My intent?" Karmit blinked.
McGonagall gave him a puzzled look.
"Of course. All magic works this way. If you wish to produce a certain effect, you must firmly believe that your spell can achieve it."
This was the first time Karmit had heard such a thing.
His other spells certainly didn't need this kind of mental preparation.
But judging by the calm expressions of the other students, it seemed to be common magical knowledge. Perhaps something Muggle-born students usually lacked.
"Try again," McGonagall instructed.
"Slower this time. Set your mind. Picture the transformation clearly. Envision the needle's appearance again and again."
Karmit nodded.
He constructed the image in his mind: the silver sheen, the length, the shape, every detail.
As he concentrated, Ron suddenly shouted from the back, "I did it!"
He held up something vaguely needle-shaped.
McGonagall examined it.
"Not bad, Mr. Weasley. If only you had transformed the bottom half of the match as well, it would be perfect."
The class snickered at the half-match, half-needle monstrosity. Ron's face burned red and white in turns.
"Still," McGonagall added, "it is progress. Try again."
Ron sat down in humiliation.
At that moment, Karmit spoke the incantation:
°Transfiguration°
__________
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