The Transformation Club's classroom, typically used for practical spell work, felt strangely vast and empty that evening. Professor McGonagall had, at some point, subtly enlarged the space through powerful, enduring magic, transforming it into a contained arena. This was not a place for turning matchsticks into needles; this was a laboratory for the limits of the human will expressed through Transfiguration.
Professor McGonagall stood in the center, her sharp eyes scanning the expectant faces of the club members—the self-proclaimed elite of Hogwarts Transfiguration students. She didn't speak a word; she simply raised her wand and began.
Her first demonstration was a breathtaking, fluid sequence of defensive and offensive transformations so rapid they blurred the line between Charms and Transfiguration.
With a precise flick, the torchlight in the corner flared, not with typical fire, but with a sudden, controlled sheet of steel-hot crimson flame that she shaped into a momentary, towering wall, then instantly collapsed it back into a manageable lantern.
Next, she manipulated the moisture in the air: a sudden, powerful bolt of contained lightning shot harmlessly from her wand to the far wall, leaving a deep scorch mark.
She then swept her wand toward the stone floor near the back of the room. In a gasp-inducing moment, the solid stone liquefied, bubbling and darkening into a patch of churning, ankle-deep swampy mud, designed to bind and halt any enemy's advance. She solidified it instantly, creating an impassable barrier of rough-hewn granite that blocked sight and passage.
As Albert had theorized in his published paper, the uses of Transfiguration were incredibly varied, and when deployed with this level of speed and control, the effects were utterly unexpected and remarkable.
Every student present, including Albert, watched Professor McGonagall's display with a rapt, almost fearful concentration.
However, as the initial shock wore off, a profound, crushing realization settled over them: to reach Professor McGonagall's level of dynamic, instantaneous Transfiguration, they required mastery of advanced techniques—like non-verbal casting and fluid shape retention—that none of them yet possessed.
They simply didn't know how to do what she was doing, let alone possess the sheer magical endurance to maintain the spell chain.
Now, Professor McGonagall moved onto the most complex skill: turning objects into sentient or semi-sentient living beings and manipulating them effectively.
She pointed her wand at a simple, large washbasin filled with water. The water didn't simply splash out; it surged upward, twisting and condensing, growing firm and dark until it had the unmistakable form of a massive, winding python. The water-python coiled out of the basin, its head rising high, its eyes—formed from two deep black swirls in the water's surface—locking onto Professor McGonagall. It let out a chilling, high-pitched hiss.
Following a subtle gesture from her wand, the creature smoothly and rapidly slithered across the floor and coiled itself tightly around a sturdy wooden table. With another, nearly imperceptible flick, the water-python vanished, replaced instantly by a thick, heavy iron cage that tightly bound the table. The speed of the second transformation—Water to Iron—was dizzying.
"If you're a wizard caught by that, whether it's a living python or an iron cage, you essentially have no choice but to accept your immediate defeat and imprisonment," whispered a fifth-year Hufflepuff, his voice barely audible.
McGonagall flicked her wand again, and the cage dissolved back into a large, messy puddle on the stone floor.
"This concept is applicable to fire, water, mist, even compacted earth," Professor McGonagall stated, her voice calm and pedagogical, completely contrasting the ferocity of the magic she had just wielded. "I know you learned the Smoke Charm in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but this is far beyond simple obfuscation."
"Professor McGonagall," a sixth-year Slytherin ventured cautiously, "I don't believe any opponent, especially a Dark Wizard, would ever grant us the necessary time to execute such complex, multi-stage Transfiguration."
"A valid concern," McGonagall acknowledged, her eyes glinting. "In a traditional wizard duel, you are correct; such preparation is often impractical. But in an ambush, a defense scenario, or when protecting Muggles, the ability to immediately alter the environment or weaponize the elements is highly advantageous."
She raised her wand and aimed it at the cautious Slytherin student. Before he could flinch, countless thick, braided ropes, seemingly conjured from nothingness, shot out and bound him securely to his chair. Slytherin bound himself with ropes.
The next moment, the ropes didn't dissolve; they exploded into a thick, momentarily blinding cloud of black smoke and vanished.
"Wizards rarely engage in formal duels, and they certainly don't observe dueling etiquette when lives are at stake," Professor McGonagall said calmly, lowering her wand. "When you are in genuine danger, the correct course of action is always to neutralize your opponent and ensure your own survival by any means necessary. Speed and surprise are paramount."
She gave another, almost gentle flick of her wand. From the residual puddle on the floor, two small, translucent water kittens crawled out, their shapes shimmering in the light. They chased each other, purring with the sound of trickling water. Then, with a sudden, beautiful ripple, the two kittens collided and merged into a sleek, muscled cheetah. The creature padded silently behind the students, its eyes sweeping over them with a predatory, intelligent gaze that caused everyone to unconsciously tense up.
Under McGonagall's complete control, the cheetah then split, forming two distinct, humanoid figures—perfect, miniature water golems. They picked up the wooden basin the python had overturned and jumped back into it, merging and shrinking until they were nothing more than the original amount of water.
The classroom erupted in a long, heartfelt wave of enthusiastic applause.
Professor McGonagall raised her hand, silencing them instantly. She then posed the critical questions: "How many distinct types of magic did I employ? What were the exact sequential steps required to execute the Water-to-Iron binding? And finally, if you were faced with an immediate threat, what percentage of that dynamic chain could you successfully replicate?"
The students immediately started whispering among themselves. For most of them, answering those three questions was a monumental, baffling task. They had been so overwhelmed by the visual spectacle that they hadn't stopped to analyze the specific theory or the incredible concentration required.
"How much of that did you actually manage to parse?" Field asked Albert, his voice thick with humility. He held out his notes. When Albert showed him his own parchment, Field was stunned; Albert's detailed analysis of the non-verbal cues and the estimated power drain was nearly identical to his own.
"Those full transformation spells are currently far too resource-intensive for me," Albert said quietly, rubbing his temple. He calculated that he would likely need to raise his innate Transfiguration skill to Level 3—a Master level—before he could perform such dynamic sequences with Professor McGonagall's fluidity and efficiency.
"He clearly already thought about these exact technical issues when he wrote his published paper," Field muttered to himself, recovering his composure. "Where's Baker? What did he catch?"
"I'm right here, and my situation is exactly the same as yours," Baker said, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "I tracked the Water-to-Python sequence, but the immediate Iron Cage transformation was too fast to parse the counter-incantation. I feel like all the Transfiguration training I've done up until now has been completely useless."
Before today, these students believed they were the elite, capable of complex transformations that surpassed their peers. Now, faced with McGonagall's power, they felt like clumsy children waving toys.
"It's not as dire as you're making it out to be," Albert reassured Baker. "The difference between us and Professor McGonagall isn't just skill; it's an immense gulf of experience, magical control, and sheer endurance."
"It's more than just experience, Albert," Field insisted, shaking his head. "I have no idea how long it would take me to achieve that level of spontaneous transformation."
"For me, it is only a lack of experience," Albert murmured to himself, the confidence in his voice quiet but absolute. He had the theoretical roadmap; he just needed the time and the experience points to build the necessary skill.
"You wrote the paper that inspired this whole session," a crisp voice cut in. It was Izebel McDougal, Katrina's older sister and the former record-holder for the journal publication, who was also a club member. She stepped closer, her expression complicated—a mix of professional respect and academic rivalry. "I'm genuinely curious how close you are to replicating your own theories."
"Have you ever heard the expression 'more theory than application'?" Albert said, giving her a serious look. "I am a perfect example of that. I'm actually very curious why Professor McGonagall chose to publish my paper over others, given its potentially controversial applications."
"Don't underestimate the quality of your work, Mr. Anderson," Professor McGonagall said, having quietly approached their corner. "Your paper, even in its redacted form, demonstrated a level of conceptual originality that far surpasses the work of most students, or even some of my colleagues."
She looked directly at Albert. "What is your final takeaway from today's demonstration?"
"I have discovered that the possibilities of dynamic Transfiguration are far more varied and profound than I ever imagined," Albert exclaimed genuinely. "The speed, the manipulation, the conservation of energy... it is truly remarkable. Unfortunately, as a group, we are terrible at it."
"You are correct about the general aptitude of the student body," Professor McGonagall confirmed. "The best advice I can give you, Mr. Anderson, is to engage more frequently with experts in this specific field, particularly those who specialize in combining Charms and Transfiguration for dueling. That will accelerate your practical mastery."
"Oh! I will certainly take that to heart, Professor," Albert nodded, watching her stride toward the door. The subtle advice—consult with Dumbledore or Flitwick—was clear.
"It appears the rumors are absolutely true," Baker muttered, watching McGonagall depart.
"What rumor?" Albert asked, puzzled.
"Everyone says you're Professor McGonagall's star pupil," Field reminded him, shaking his head in amused exasperation. "She just essentially told you to consult with the Headmaster on your homework."
Albert frowned, genuinely perplexed. "How come I didn't know about this?"
The group exchanged bewildered glances. It was universally accepted that Albert was either supremely modest, or incredibly oblivious to the fact that he received academic attention that was leagues beyond the rest of them.
They left the classroom, the profound difficulty of the assignment settling over them. They had to figure out how McGonagall did it—a task that, for them, felt like solving a riddle in an ancient, dead language.