"Undoubtedly, Professor," I nodded with a light smile, causing teeth grinding from someone among the students. "One cannot turn anything into a human. Here everything is simple. Just as any transfigured creature will not be alive, but only a golem, so it is with a human. Strictly theoretically, as with the apple, one can recreate a body with unimaginable costs, but a human is not just a body, but also a soul. That is where the problems are."
"This, Mr. Granger, is already sections of Dark Magic," the professor spoke strictly. "I extremely do not recommend practicing them, and the point is far from legality."
"I know, Professor, simply stating a fact. What we all understand as a human is indeed impossible to transfigure. Regarding turning anything into a magical object or creating something magical; here, unfortunately, I do not quite understand the reasons for the failure. I suppose one can enchant a transfigured, and then fixed by a formula of eternal transfiguration, object. I think the point is that transfiguration is the science of transformations of material objects. Magic and charms are immaterial."
"Correct, Mr. Granger."
"Money... Hmm," I pondered. "Depends what kind. Money of ordinary people is made from ordinary materials, and they can successfully be transfigured theoretically, but the DMLE closely monitors such things, if I remember heard conversations correctly."
"You touched upon a very important moment," McGonagall nodded and addressed everyone now. "This exception appeared at the end of the seventeenth century. In those times, both Muggles and wizards used money from precious metals and their alloys. That is why their transfiguration is not considered possible. By the way, Mr. Granger, and what is the reason for the impossibility of transfiguration of precious metals and stones?"
"Dispersion of magic," I shrugged.
Now the entire class diligently wrote down, albeit reluctantly.
"More details?" asked the professor.
"Gold, platinum, and pure silver possess unique properties not allowing any magic to fix on them. Again theoretically, when we try to transfigure an object into gold, transfiguration almost succeeds; at the moment when the object becomes gold, it immediately throws off magic from itself, returning to the initial state. This moment is completely elusive in time, therefore an impression is created that transfiguration does not succeed."
Neither I nor Professor McGonagall could help but notice Hermione's raised hand.
"Miss Granger?" the professor immediately addressed her.
"I would like to add and correct. Silver successfully undergoes transfiguration."
"By no means," I shook my head, causing dissatisfaction from Hermione, the red-haired Weasley, and Potter. "You mean low-grade silver, eight-hundred, eight-hundred-thirty, and so on. They have extremely low cost, low magical value due to high content of impurity, and transfiguration succeeds in them precisely due to low silver content. But even so, such silver content negatively affects the duration of transfiguration."
"One can use the transfiguration fixation formula, obtaining an alloy with a small silver content," Hermione parried.
"The costs of magic are too great, and such an object loses all its value. Creating even a small volume of such an alloy will exhaust a wizard incredibly. Giving it the shape of jewelry makes no sense due to the low cost of such an alloy, and in the end, it will be suitable only for remelting, purification. And that is costs again. Much more effectively one can earn money simply by getting the most worthless part-time job. This also concerns gold, only dispersion of magic in gold is many times higher than silver, and obtaining even five-hundred-twenty-fifth grade is practically impossible."
"I don't understand anything, what language is he even speaking?" lamented the red-haired Weasley, causing chuckles from guys, and a mixture of embarrassment and indignation for her friend from Hermione.
McGonagall's strict gaze calmed the fits of merriment in the class.
"Precious stones?"
"They are generally a magical object, albeit to an incredibly insignificant degree. An attempt at transfiguration leads only to transformation into carbon, quartz, and other dust, from which transfiguration immediately falls off, and the initial object turns into dust as well."
"Time?" asked the professor briefly.
"Time is not a material object. It is, rather, a subjective perception of the rate of change of the state of matter. It has absolutely no relation to transfiguration, for that matter."
"Simply magnificent, Mr. Granger," McGonagall smiled joyfully, and even somehow girlishly neatly clapped her hands. "Twenty, no, thirty points to Hufflepuff. Mr. Granger..."
"Yes?"
"I think I can give you credit for all the covered material. You coped with the practical part, and your understanding of the covered basics of transfiguration raises no doubts."
"Thank you, Professor."
The remnants of the lesson passed somewhat detachedly; we practiced another for everyone, but first for me, transfiguration according to the program. Nothing special.
After Transfiguration we, again with the whole crowd of third-years, headed to the DADA classroom.
"Now absolutely everything together," Justin, who wedged in between me and Ernie, shook his head dejectedly. "And I got so used to studying either only with Ravens, or Griffs."
"Well, I don't know," I shrugged. "I like everything as is."
Inadvertently I cast a glance toward Malfoy and his comrades. It was funny to see how he importantly tells something, two bobbleheads portray golems, simply moving nearby, a brown-haired guy unknown to me so far listens to him neutrally, a quite cute brunette with a bob agrees and nods, sometimes inserting a couple of phrases. It was amusing how this brunette chooses words and time for speaking. An experienced elf smells the whiff of intrigue and manipulation of opinion, but that is an elf; a teenager would perceive everything at face value. Especially such a haughty one as Malfoy.
On the other hand, I noted Hermione and her friends too. The red-haired Weasley expressed something, like, she is the smartest anyway, Potter nodded, and Hermione herself dug in the schedule.
"Good that classes are now together for everyone," her phrase reached me.
"Classes?" Weasley didn't understand. "I tell her one thing, and she about classes."
"Why?" Potter didn't support his friend's indignation.
"The schedule shifted slightly, and I can attend all additional classes without haste."
"O-o-oh, everything is clear," the redhead waved it off.
Under the doors of the DADA classroom, we stood in a crowd and waited. Waited for when finally the professor for this subject would come, and judging by conversations and assumptions of students, DADA professors change here annually.
"...did you talk to him?" Potter's voice reached through the quiet hum of the crowd of students.
"No, didn't have time yet," answered Hermione.
"So go. Or else, you never know, they'll say something..."
Glancing toward the Gryffindors, I saw Hermione nod and head toward me with a brisk step, but she didn't make it.
"Students, good day," an adult male voice rang out and we all paid attention to a light-brown-haired man approaching us in patched and not particularly new, but clearly practical clothes and robe. "Come in."
Professor Lupin, for that was the name of this strange and suspicious man, led us into a classroom well-lit by the sun through high windows with colorless stained glass. Now all benches and desks were pushed to the stone wall, on which hung various posters with drawings of creatures, some tables, and instructions; there were more creatures.
"You can put away textbooks," the professor spoke cheerfully, walking to the wardrobe and turning to us. "Today we have a practical lesson, keep only wands. At first, I wanted to conduct the lesson here and started preparing the class, that's why desks are moved. But I was offered a better place. Follow me."
Many decided to leave their things here, but there were those who simply put everything back into bags; among them was I. Following Lupin we left the classroom, and moved in a ragged crowd along the corridors. In one of them, the professor led us clearly through a secret passage, and we ended up already in another corridor and clearly in another tower. Ten meters, and here we stand before the large doors of the staff room.
"Well, here we are, come in."
The staff room could boast large windows and good lighting, and the wood paneling of the walls, like the antique but quite well-maintained furniture in the form of various armchairs, sofas, and tables, created a very favorable atmosphere. For the completeness of the picture, only a couple of antique cabinets with ancient folios and some magical gizmos were missing; then it would be immediately visible that wizards gather here.
Just in one of such armchairs next to the fireplace sat Professor Snape, and at the sight of us somehow treacherously smirked, and the gaze of his dark eyes acquired a certain mischievous glint. Lupin entered last and wanted to close the door, but Snape got up from the sofa, even in this gesture managing to picturesquely fling open the black robe over black clothes. Batman, give or take! Hmm, and who is Batman, and why do I associate Snape with him?
"Who is Batman?" I asked Justin.
"Pfft..." the guy choked, covering his mouth.
Justin shifted a bewildered gaze to Snape, to me, again to Snape.
"And indeed..."
"So who is that?"
"I'll tell you later."
While we whispered quietly, Snape had already approached the not particularly friendly disposed Lupin. No, there was no malice or anything in the new professor. Wariness and feigned benevolence; that was there.
"Wait, Lupin, I'll go, perhaps. The spectacle ahead is not pleasant."
In the doorway, Snape turned around.
"I want to warn you, Lupin, Neville Longbottom studies in this class. So, I advise not to entrust him with anything responsible, he won't cope. Unless Miss Granger whispers in his ear what and how to do."
Lupin was significantly surprised.
"And I hoped that precisely Neville would help me today. I am sure he will cope perfectly."
The discussed chubby boy from Gryffindor blushed worse than a tomato; and how does he manage to change color like that?
Snape loudly slammed the door in parting, and Lupin with a light smile approached a wardrobe with mirrors on the door standing almost in the middle of the staff room. No sooner had the professor approached the wardrobe than it immediately rattled and jerked as if someone was trying to break out of there. Such a thing frightened the guys in the front rows in earnest.
"There is merely an ordinary Boggart there," the teacher calmed everyone. "So nothing to fear."
This explanation helped by no means strongly, and many continued to look at the wardrobe with apprehension.
"Boggarts love darkness," Lupin continued to explain. "Most often they can be met in a wardrobe, under a bed, in a box under the washbasin. I found one in the case of a grandfather clock. This one appeared here only yesterday. I asked the Headmaster to leave it for our lesson today. Who will answer, what is a Boggart?"
Only Hermione raised her hand. For the umpteenth time I notice that she tries to answer any question with or without reason. Naturally, Lupin chose precisely her among everyone; she simply was the only one who wanted to answer.
"A Boggart is a creature that changes its appearance. It turns into what a person fears most of all."
"Wonderful, even I would not answer more precisely."
Lupin's praise turned out to be enough for my sister to literally blush. Does she really lack approval and praise from "authoritative" adults so much? After all, she does not react so acutely to praise from peers. Amusing. And I am also interested in how she plans to solve the "problem" with me?
While I reflected on various social nuances of my being, Lupin finished the introduction on the Boggart and showed us a spell against it; Riddikulus. This spell should turn the Boggart into something funny, thereby causing positive emotions in the wizard and neutralizing the Boggart, or rather, its impact. Although, if I correctly understood the essence of this immaterial creature from Hagrid's bestiary, it is something like an immaterial spirit, with which necromancers often work in my memories. One can fight them in different ways, but excluding necromancy itself, light with a certain wavelength and fire as an aggressive environment, and life, death, order as energies are good against such creatures.
"Riddikulus!" everyone repeated in chorus after Lupin, and practiced the movement without a wand.
Of course, I joined them. Whatever the experience from shards, it is incomplete, and I simply must study the local school of magic at least in the hope that it will serve as a sort of bridge to at least a part of the hidden knowledge in my soul.
"Riddikulus!" we pronounced again and waved empty hands.
"Excellent," Lupin was satisfied with visible results. "But that is the easiest part. The magic word in itself will not help you. That is exactly where I will need your help, Neville. Come here."
The boy timidly approached the professor, who stood a couple of meters opposite the wardrobe. The wardrobe shook, Neville shook, Slytherins shook, but from suppressed chuckles. He whispered quietly about something with the professor, nodded, and so, the moment of truth arrived.
"What do you think he will have?" asked Anthony standing nearby.
"Snape, what else?" Justin shrugged, trying to appear unperturbed, but his specific face along with slight pallor created the impression of an extremely frightened but proud movie villain. But the guy turned out to be right.
As soon as Neville, shaking himself and shaking the wand in his hands, uncertainly nodded, Lupin waved his hand and the wardrobe opened. No one and nothing flew out of the impenetrable darkness in the wardrobe, but a moment later the most real Snape walked out from there, looking threateningly at Neville. The latter shook worse than before, and began to turn pale, trying to catch up in color with chalk for the board. I watched this with the keenest interest. Of course, it is not good when kids "suffer," but all my truly rich experience tells me one thing; kids will "suffer" one way or another. Such is the path of growing up.