mesbooks Chapter 258, Section 257: Lesson! Magical Life!
Chapter 258, Section 257: Lesson! Magical Life!
Chapter 258, Section 257: Lesson! Magical Life!
Inside the old and solemn headmaster's office at Hogwarts.
The magical lamplight flickered, casting dappled shadows on the surrounding walls. The fireplace burned quietly, its warm light illuminating the silverware and paintings.
However, it couldn't dispel the faint chill in the air.
This is the feeling brought about by that eerie, empty armor. Portraits of past principals hang on the walls, their gazes seemingly silently watching everything in this quiet space.
No one speaks.
No one gave them any strange looks.
"Riddle."
Behind the enormous desk, Dumbledore sat quietly, his silver beard gleaming under the light, and his deep blue eyes revealing an inscrutable expression.
"Heh." The armor didn't move, but a low chuckle came from the air, as if it came from a very far place, or as if the surrounding space was undulating.
It's unclear where the source is.
It's very ethereal.
"What did you do to Malfoy?" Dumbledore didn't seem to care about these oddities; he simply stared calmly at the armored man's face.
His tone was calm, yet it carried an undeniable air of authority. However, the armor known as Riddle did not immediately respond to Dumbledore's question.
It stood there quietly, like a silent statue.
In a quiet atmosphere.
Dumbledore didn't speak again, as patient as ever. After a long while, the armored figure finally shook his head, and a deep, hoarse voice echoed in the surroundings.
"You're always like this, Dumbledore." The armored voice was cold and hoarse, with a metallic quality to it. "Knowing the answer yet still asking."
"It's simple. I gave Malfoy a chance to live. Otherwise, he would have died long ago, no, he would no longer exist." The tone of his voice did indeed have a bit of Riddle's feel to it.
however.
It clearly comes from a strange suit of armor.
"Are you trying to tell me that you also have a merciful side?" Dumbledore continued to stare at the armor before him, the metal body gleaming coldly.
The part that should have been a mask was nothing but empty darkness.
There was no flesh or blood inside.
However, Dumbledore seemed to be able to see the...soul within it? He was no longer sure if that was the right word; the form in which the armor existed was beyond Dumbledore's knowledge.
"Why don't you ask that person... the one who rules me?" Riddle's voice rang out again, still laced with sarcasm towards Dumbledore.
A pair of scarlet eyes seemed to emerge from the hollow mask.
It vanished in a flash.
"Oh, right," Riddle's voice was laced with sarcasm, perhaps even a hint of schadenfreude, "instead of worrying about that, think about how you're going to survive."
"Grindelwald can't help you."
Riddle's tone was filled with absolute conviction.
Dumbledore's expression remained unchanged, but his fingertips paused slightly. All of this seemed to be observed by Riddle, and the young Dark Lord's voice rang out again.
"Dumbledore, my muddle-headed master says I like to court death, but in my opinion, you are the one who likes to court death the most, even in all the history I have experienced, there is no one who is more prone to courting death than you."
"Who do you think you are? Do you think you have... the power to rule over my foolish master?" The voice, tinged with sarcasm and disdain, echoed throughout the room.
It is as sharp as a needle.
It carried with it Riddle's pleasure.
Dumbledore responded with silence, his expression blank. A long silence fell over the room, with only the portraits of the past headmasters exchanging uneasy glances.
"Is it really something to be happy about, Riddle?" Dumbledore slowly stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the Black Lake in the distance, a certain expression flickering in his eyes.
"Don't underestimate... my determination to survive."
That was his final answer. The armored figure's laughter echoed in the air, followed by Dumbledore drawing his wand and violently swinging the Elder Wand in its direction.
next moment.
The armored figure vanished like smoke.
It's as if it never existed.
Things seemed to be getting increasingly bizarre.
just.
Apart from the headmaster in the office, who dared not utter a sound for fear of being tricked by Dumbledore again, no one knew about this matter. The only sound in the silent room was the cry of the phoenix.
It's as if it's responding to Dumbledore.
……
Time goes by.
The night will eventually fade away.
The light of dawn quietly bathed the Hogwarts campus. The next morning, the students of Hogwarts rose one after another and began a new day of learning.
Ian is the same, of course.
After a hearty breakfast, it's time to start a fulfilling day.
Sunlight streamed through the high windows into the Transfiguration classroom, and tiny dust particles floated in the air. Professor McGonagall stood on the podium, preparing to teach her second-year students a Transfiguration lesson on new material.
All I saw was...
The classroom was neatly furnished with desks and chairs.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting golden dappled patterns on the desks. Professor McGonagall, dressed in a dark green robe, appeared dignified and elegant.
Her eyes revealed a hint of expectation and seriousness as she held a beetle in her hand.
"Today, we will learn a transformation spell to turn a beetle into a button. This is a rather difficult transformation, and everyone needs to concentrate and master the techniques of using magic."
Professor McGonagall always had a stern voice, like a headmaster.
Powerful and composed.
It echoed in the classroom.
All the young wizards were focused.
Ian was still munching on a sausage, but he showed the professor the respect he deserved by bending down and hiding under the table to eat it, so as not to provoke Professor McGonagall's ire.
of course.
Professor McGonagall glanced in his direction but said nothing. She looked around at the young wizards and then raised her wand, aiming it at the beetle.
"Remember, the key lies in the precision of your will, not the strength of your magic." As she explained, Professor McGonagall waved her wand.
He was muttering to himself.
As a powerful wizard, a dean-level figure, she naturally knew how to cast spells without incantations. However, in order to teach her students, she intentionally slowed down even the speed of her incantations.
Try to keep every syllable absolutely clear. Then, as the magic took shape, the beetle gradually transformed into an exquisite button in a burst of light.
A gasp of surprise rippled through the classroom.
The students all looked like they had learned something new.
Everyone was eager to try, feeling confident that they could do it too. However, when it was the students' turn to try, they clearly encountered considerable difficulties.
Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students bent down to try, and soon the classroom was filled with the sound of incantations. However, even the Ravenclaw's top students frowned—the beetle either shrank a little or turned into a crooked metal block, not at all like a button.
Despite their intelligence, Ravenclaw students were somewhat overwhelmed by this Transfiguration spell, as the logic of using magic differs greatly between turning an inanimate object into a living one and turning a living one into an inanimate one.
The Hufflepuff students fared even worse; their magical light flickered erratically, and in front of most students, the beetles only trembled slightly, never managing to turn into buttons.
"It seems that everyone has encountered some difficulties."
Professor McGonagall paced back and forth in the classroom, observing the students' behavior. Her brow furrowed slightly, and then she grabbed Ian, who was hiding under his desk, and pulled him up.
"Where's your beetle?"
Professor McGonagall's eyes were twitching.
"Here."
Ian held up the sausage he had just conjured up, which he hadn't had a chance to eat yet, because he still wanted more from the previous sausage. The delicious aroma kept wafting into Professor McGonagall's nose.
"..."
Professor McGonagall's expression was incredibly complex. Although she had already seen the truth, hearing it from the little wizard's mouth still made her feel uneasy.
For a Transfiguration genius like Ian.
The older catgirl is both adorable and speechless.
"What I need are buttons!"
She glared fiercely at Ian.
"And one more thing! I hope you remember that you can't eat food created by Transfiguration!" Professor McGonagall thought Ian was probably just joking and didn't really intend to eat the food he created.
However, she still gave her a stern reminder.
The main concern is that other young wizards might accidentally eat it.
Actually.
Ian shouldn't be able to conjure food, nor should he have such a level of transmutation... Professor McGonagall gave Ian a complicated look, and Ian thought that Professor McGonagall was urging him.
"OK."
Ian pulled out his wand, and with practiced magic, the sausage in his hand transformed into a button. The button even shimmered with a unique magical luster, surpassing the one Professor McGonagall had conjured. A chorus of gasps of amazement filled the classroom.
"No wonder he's a young professor!"
"Ian is amazing! I knew he could handle this!"
"Ian is a true master of transfiguration!"
……
Some young wizards even gave Ian some very impressive titles, and surprisingly, Professor McGonagall, who always preferred to be objective, did not correct her students.
The older catgirl finally smiled.
Let's set aside some of the headaches.
Although Ian wasn't a student at her Gryffindor school, she really liked him, this outstanding student. After all, no teacher dislikes a good student.
"very good."
Professor McGonagall gave Ian a long look.
"Now, Ian, you will explain the key points of this magic to everyone." Professor McGonagall lifted Ian to the podium and even placed him directly on the lectern.
Ian simply sat down cross-legged without any hesitation.
"Um, you want me to give the lecture?"
Ian cleared his throat, glanced at the students, and said methodically, "When casting this Transfiguration spell, the first thing to do is to concentrate on steadily channeling your magic into the wand."
"At the same time, you must clearly visualize the shape and details of the button in your mind, so that the power of magic can change the shape of the beetle according to our wishes."
"In addition, the pronunciation of magic spells is also crucial; they must be accurate and powerful." His voice was clear and confident, and the students nodded thoughtfully.
After a brief pause...
"The most important thing is that everyone should understand that we are not killing the beetles, but merely changing their form of existence... Don't be too fixated on the distinction between inanimate and living things."
"We are wizards. If we want it to live, it will live, no matter what form it takes," Ian said, clearly drawing on his own magical insights.
The students listened very attentively, as if they had grasped something.
Professor McGonagall's eyes flickered for a moment again.
"That's well said. I'm a little relieved. At least you won't make Hogwarts too abnormal after you become a professor."
Professor McGonagall paused for a moment, but overall she was praising Ian. This was, in the eyes of most young wizards, a very high compliment.
"It seems Ian will be teaching our next generation in the future."
"What? Ian will be teaching my son too? That's great!"
"Laughable, you'll never have a son."
……
People were whispering among themselves.
The conversation only stopped when Professor McGonagall gave the room a stern look.
Everyone resumed their magic practice.
This time, quite a few students succeeded.
It was clear that Ian's teaching was very effective, but some students were still struggling, which was a matter of talent. Professor McGonagall patiently provided one-on-one instruction to all students.
soon.
The bell rang, signaling the end of get out of class.
After class.
The students packed up their books and left the classroom. Just as Ian was about to leave, Professor McGonagall called him back.
"Ian, wait a moment, please stay here for a moment."
Professor McGonagall spoke.
Ian looked at Professor McGonagall with some confusion and nodded. After the students had all left the classroom, Professor McGonagall walked up to Ian, her gaze carrying a profound meaning.
"Mr. Prince."
Professor McGonagall suddenly started using very formal titles.
She hadn't been this serious in a long time.
"I've noticed that you seem to have a unique control when you transform. I'd like to ask you something... whether you've secretly gained control of your Animagus?"
Her eyes were fixed on Ian, as if trying to find the answer in his expression. Ian's heart skipped a beat when he heard the question, but he quickly regained his composure.
This isn't anything shameful.
"Professor, why do you ask that?"
of course.
Ian still wanted to know how Professor McGonagall had figured that out. And seeing that Ian didn't refute it, Professor McGonagall was now 100% certain of her guess.
"You're really... incredibly bold!"
Professor McGonagall wanted to say something, but Ian was standing there unharmed, which proved that Ian had not failed. She could only raise her hands, grit her teeth, and then sigh.
"May I see your Animagus?"
It's like the style of the painting has suddenly changed.
Professor McGonagall's voice suddenly became calm.
"Of course, you can refuse. After all, for wizards, the Animagus form can be used as a trump card." She didn't mean to force Ian to comply.
"no problem."
Ian didn't seem to have any reservations about it.
Transformation occurs immediately.
Unexpectedly.
Professor McGonagall, who had initially been looking on with anticipation, froze upon seeing his raven form, as if she had witnessed something unbelievable.
"A magical life form!?"
She clearly sensed something was amiss.
(End of this chapter)