In the late afternoon, the Gryffindor first-years convened for their final class of the day: Transfiguration. Again, they shared the classroom with the focused students of Ravenclaw. This time, however, the atmosphere was a hundred times more tense than the buoyant lightness of Charms class.
The professor was Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House and Deputy Headmistress. She stood at the front of the classroom, her emerald-green robes crisp, her face set in a look of uncompromising severity that instantly quelled any lingering chatter from the students. She didn't need to shout; her sheer presence commanded silence.
Before the first proper lesson began, she gave the eleven-year-olds a famously intimidating welcome.
"Transfiguration," she announced, her voice precise and unwavering, "is the most complex and, frankly, the most dangerous type of magic you will learn at Hogwarts. We are dealing with the fundamental alteration of matter. Carelessness or sloppiness can lead to catastrophic, irreversible results. Therefore, let me be perfectly clear: anyone who acts foolishly, anyone who acts mischievously, or anyone who fails to show the required concentration in my class will be asked to leave. And you will never be allowed to attend my class again."
This solemn, chilling speech, delivered with icy conviction, immediately terrified the young students into absolute obedience. The classroom fell into a state of dead silence, broken only by the scratching of a few nervous quills.
As a demonstration of what was possible, Professor McGonagall placed her large wooden desk at the front of the class. She pointed her wand—a slim, dark instrument—and uttered a sharp incantation. In a blink, the heavy mahogany desk shimmered and shrank, its dark wood replaced by a patch of wrinkly pink skin, four short legs, and a snout. A small, confused pig now stood where the desk had been.
She let the pig squeal and sniff the floor for a moment, letting the sheer impressiveness of the feat settle into their minds. Then, with an equally sharp, reversed incantation and a neat counter-motion, the pig vanished, and the heavy wooden desk reappeared with a loud thump.
The sight was instantly captivating. If Flitwick's dancing books had inspired a wish to learn, McGonagall's transformation of solid furniture into living flesh instilled a sense of awe and a healthy respect for the power of this discipline. Everyone desperately wanted to begin.
However, the Gryffindors who had just endured Charms class knew better than to expect instant results.
Sure enough, after the captivating demonstration, Professor McGonagall picked up a piece of chalk and, ignoring the students' collective impatience, began to explain the theory of Transfiguration. She detailed the fundamental principles: the limits of elemental transmutation, the complexity factor, the relationship between size and magical difficulty, and the crucial importance of visualising the desired result. The students frantically scribbled down a torrent of complicated notes, their hands aching from the speed required.
Albert, like the rest, opened his mental status panel and saw the newly acquired skill: Transfiguration Theory. He immediately spent 98 experience points to upgrade it to Level 1.
The burst of fundamental knowledge flooded his mind—the underlying formulae for size change, the concept of animus (the magical spark of life), and the critical connection between incantation focus and wand movement.
With his Multitasking skill at Level 2, he was able to absorb this theoretical influx while simultaneously tracking Professor McGonagall's lecture and organizing his physical notes. He now truly appreciated the investment in Multitasking; it turned potentially confusing dual-inputs into an orderly stream of information.
After the theoretical explanation, which lasted far longer than the Charms theory, Professor McGonagall finally transitioned to practice. She moved to the front row and deposited a single, standard wooden matchstick on each student's desk.
"Your first practical task," she announced, "is the simplest point-to-point Transfiguration: turning that matchstick into a sharp, thin sewing needle. Remember the precision of the tip, the smoothness of the metal, and the drastic reduction in size."
A new wave of frantic murmuring and failed attempts began. Wands were waved clumsily, and incantations were mumbled in various states of terror.
Albert pretended to stare intently at the contents of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, as if memorizing a hidden clue. He was actually confirming the specific wand movement required and rehearsing the final mental image of the silver needle.
"Mr. Anderson?"
Professor McGonagall's voice, sharp and laced with suspicion, snapped Albert out of his focused preparation. She was standing directly over his desk, her stern gaze fixed on him. She still remembered the boy who, in her view, had technically vandalized her office door upon arrival.
"Um. Professor, is there something wrong?" Albert returned to his senses instantly, meeting her eyes with a look of confused innocence.
"Everyone else is attempting the Transfiguration. Why are you merely sitting there contemplating the wood grain?" Professor McGonagall's scrutiny felt like physical pressure. She then glanced past him at his perpetually distracted neighbor. "Mr. Weasley, if I were you, I would concentrate on my objective before attempting any incantation."
Fred, caught off-guard, looked suitably innocent, though the pressure of having the Professor of Transfiguration towering over him made his wand hand tremble.
Albert quickly recovered. "I was just thinking, Professor. I realized there were some crucial specifics I needed to lock into my mind, particularly the nature of the final object, before attempting the transformation." This was, technically, the truth.
Professor McGonagall did not move. Instead, she fixed her attention back on Albert, clearly determined to watch his first effort.
"Ahem!" Albert coughed lightly to settle his nerves. He raised his wand, ensuring the movement was clean, concise, and deliberate. He tapped the matchstick with a neat flick and, with perfect conviction, chanted the incantation: "Vera Verto!"
The matchstick did not smoke, nor did it spark. It simply shrank, its wooden texture smoothing out, the color shifting from pale brown to a bright, polished silver. In a fraction of a second, a perfect, gleaming silver sewing needle lay on the desk where the match had been.
"Very good, everyone, look here!" Professor McGonagall rarely smiled, but a slight, almost imperceptible twitch of satisfaction crossed her lips. She gently picked up the silver needle, presenting it to the whole class. It was flawless. "Mr. Anderson has achieved a complete, successful transformation on his first attempt. Note the sharpness of the point and the clarity of the metal. Five points to Gryffindor."
"I knew this wouldn't be a problem for you, you cheat!" Fred snatched the needle from Albert, examining it closely. "How did you do that? What's the trick? Was there a secret word?"
Several nearby students, especially those in Ravenclaw, immediately leaned in, desperate to know the secret to this instant success.
Albert whispered conspiratorially, "Didn't Professor McGonagall ask us to take all those notes earlier? That's the trick. I simply remembered that the transformation is 80% theory and 20% wand motion. Visualize, focus, and be precise."
A chorus of rustling paper erupted as a group of people immediately began frantically flipping back through their notebooks, searching for the "hidden trick" in the complicated formulas.
"Do you really think I will believe that?" Fred stared at Albert with a mixture of suspicion and mock contempt. He clearly wasn't falling for the "study hard" explanation. However, he didn't press the matter, as Professor McGonagall was now staring in their direction again.
A few minutes later, Professor McGonagall made another, less dramatic announcement: "Look, Miss MacDougal's matchstick has partially changed. It is silvering at the tip. Excellent effort, five points to Ravenclaw."
Katrina MacDougal, who had strategically taken a seat near Albert again, held up her matchstick, a faint sheen of silver only on the very tip. "Transfiguration is so difficult! How did you achieve a perfect transformation on your first try?"
"Successful on one go?" Albert coughed, maintaining his facade of humble denial. "Ahem, actually, I had practiced the core theory and visualization over the summer, so I succeeded eventually—not on the very first try today. My success now is built on previous failures. The main precaution Professor McGonagall emphasized is indeed the key."
Katrina seemed satisfied with this answer. It was a more believable explanation than instant genius—especially since she herself had practiced a few basic spells before school, giving her a slight advantage over the true beginners.
The rest of the Transfiguration period became a long, grinding session of practice. Professor McGonagall circulated tirelessly, offering precise, minimal critiques: "More force on the wrist snap, Mr. Finnigan," "Visualize the point, Miss Boot, not the eye of the needle," "Try again, Mr. Weasley, less desire for chaos."
For Albert, who had already achieved perfect Transfiguration, the remaining time was intensely boring. To combat the monotony and avoid the impression of slacking off, he devised a strategy to generate passive experience and refine his skills.
He began a repetitive cycle:
Restoration: He whispered the incantation, "Finite Incantatem!" and the silver needle snapped back into a wooden matchstick. This was the correct Restoring Charm that McGonagall had taught.
Vera Verto Refinement: He then started transforming the matchstick into objects that were similar in size but different in form, testing the limits of his concentration.
His wand waved and tapped. The match turned into a small, smooth, wooden toy mouse. Then, a second later, Finite Incantatem!, and it was back to a match. It became a polished bone button. Then, Finite Incantatem!, and it returned to wood. He was performing dozens of minute Transfigurations, each adding fractions to his experience bars for Vera Verto and the Restoring Charm.
"How are you doing that?" Fred, utterly defeated by his smoking matchstick, watched Albert's desk in disbelief. The guy's skills were exponentially superior.
"Like Professor McGonagall said," Albert repeated, his eyes focused entirely on the matchstick, which he was currently trying to turn into a miniature wooden whistle. "Be clean and precise when waving your wand, visualize the object clearly before you transmogrify, and articulate the spell with absolute clarity."
The twins sighed, giving up their efforts. They knew Albert was hiding a secret, but his advice was technically sound. They failed to achieve any Transfiguration before the bell rang.
Indeed, by the end of the class, only Albert and Katrina MacDougal had achieved any success at all, a common outcome in Transfiguration, which required a unique, cold precision often lacking in eleven-year-olds. As Albert knew, the first successful transformation was the hardest hurdle; it cemented the magical path in the caster's mind, making subsequent practice much easier.
Professor McGonagall, despite her sternness, gave the students their homework with a final, encouraging nod: "Practice the Matchstick to Needle Transfiguration. You have one week."