McGonagall blinked, caught slightly off guard by an eleven-year-old asking such a question. She straightened her posture, her expression shifting to something sharper.
There was a reason she only covered transforming small objects. An average eleven-year-old simply didn't have enough magical power, nor the control, to attempt anything larger.
"Show me," she said.
Aegeus gestured toward an unoccupied wooden desk sitting near the back of the classroom.
Drawing his dark Ebony wand, he focused on transforming the desk into an iron shield.
For a brief second, the wood groaned under the strain. Sparks flickered across the grain before it ruptured violently. With a sharp crack, the desk fractured down the middle, several splintered fragments skittering across the stone floor.
McGonagall stepped toward the splintered remains of the desk, her sharp gaze sweeping over the jagged fracture lines where the wood had burst outward under the pressure.
"Transfiguration is not a matter of simply shoving magic into an object until it yields, Mr. Granger," McGonagall said, her tone razor-sharp and authoritative. "That's especially true for larger objects. "
"When you are attempting to transfigure something on such a large scale, you need to be especially careful— because if the magic builds up faster than the object's structure can absorb the change, the resulting imbalance will trigger a violent reaction."
"So the reason I failed was because the magical distribution was too concentrated?" Aegeus deduced instantly, his mind re-evaluating the underlying logic of Transfiguration. "What if I applied it as a wave throughout the entirety of the object, rather than driven like a wedge into its core?"
"That's one way to do it," McGonagall said, her eyes glinting with approval. There were numerous techniques to fix the issue, each with different advantages and disadvantages.
She flicked her wand at the ruined desk. The splinters lifted, trembled, and knit themselves back into a whole— seamless, as if it had never broken at all.
"Something for you to consider, Mr. Granger," she added, "is that repair magic operates on the same principle you've just described. My advice to you is to study it carefully. I am sure you will find it very enlightening."
That evening, while the Gryffindor common room descended into its usual chaotic buzz of chatter and exploding snap, Aegeus took a quiet corner table near the tall arched window.
He unrolled a fresh sheet of parchment, dipped his quill into the dark ink, and began writing out Professor McGonagall's essay on the possible backlash that may occur if the caster fails to maintain a clear mental picture.
~~~
The Charms classroom was flooded with warm morning light streaming through the high arched windows. First-year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws filled the rows of long wooden desks.
Professor Flitwick, a tiny wizard who stood atop a thick pile of books to see over his desk, clapped his hands together with a sharp, energetic snap.
"Welcome, welcome to the wonders of Charms!" Flitwick squeaked cheerfully, his voice ringing across the room. "Charms, or it can also be called enchantment, is the art of giving objects new properties, or making an object perform certain actions. Today, we begin with one of the most fundamental skills in any witch or wizard's repertoire: the Levitation Charm!"
He cleared his throat, pulling a long, slender wand from his sleeve.
"Pay close attention to my wrist movement," Flitwick instructed, demonstrating in the air before them. "Swish and flick, it's very simple! And the incantation is Wingardium Leviosa!"
A small box sitting on his podium popped open, and a white feather floated out, settling gently to each student's desk.
"Off you go, then! Give it a try!" Flitwick called out encouragingly.
All around the room, the lesson descended into a flurry of wild movements and muttered incantations. Two rows ahead, a freckled boy swished his wand with such excessive force that his feather shot straight off the desk and caught in the hair of the girl beside him.
She swatted at it with a yelp while he stammered out an apology, mortified.
His second attempt produced the exact same result— earning him a sharp smack to the head from the girl.
Aegeus didn't reach for his wand immediately. Instead, he watched the other students' failed attempts— those who used too much force lost their feather entirely, while those too tentative barely nudged it.
He made the wrist movement once, lightly, and murmured the incantation. The feather rose smoothly, hovering steadily at eye level, and stayed there.
Flitwick, halfway down the aisle, went momentarily silent. "Well," he said, blinking up at the floating feather, then at Aegeus. "That was— exceptionally swift! Very good, Mr. Granger, very good. Five points to Gryffindor."
He lingered a moment longer than the compliment required, studying the feather's perfectly steady hover. "Did you practice this spell previously, by any chance?"
"Yes, sir," Aegeus said. "I did over the summer."
Although that wasn't the actual reason he had mastered it so quickly, as even back then, he had executed it on his very first try.
Flitwick's eyebrows rose, though not unkindly. "Studying ahead already, are we? Well, keep that up, Mr. Granger— though do save something for us to teach you!" He chuckled, then moved on down the row to oversee the rest.
Over the next few days, Aegeus made a habit of staying back after class, firing off all kinds of questions to each professor.
~~~
History of Magic with Professor Binns was pretty much a test of willpower. The ghostly teacher floated slightly above his podium, droning on in a flat, monotonous hum about the 1612 Goblin Rebellions.
Most of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had succumbed within fifteen minutes— some slumped face-down on their parchments, others staring blankly into space as the ghost's voice acted like a hypnotic watch.
Aegeus sat near the back, his posture upright and eyes fixed forward in an illusion of complete attention. Beneath the desk, however, his hand was far from idle.
He had long since mastered the art of messing around under the desk while pretending to be attentive, holding his dark Ebony wand concealed beneath.
Recalling Professor McGonagall's advice, he practiced bulk transfiguration on a small wooden box he had salvaged from an abandoned classroom. He pulled his magic power to the minimum required and practiced silently under the desk.
Checking every few minutes to make sure it didn't already explode, the conditions weren't ideal, but it was still much better than wasting time listening to information he already knew.
By the time the bell rang to signal the end of the class, the ghost glided straight through the chalkboard without noticing that half the room had been asleep for an hour.
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TO BE CONTINUED
~~~
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