Kyle was still basking in the thrill of mastering the Happiness Charm, and before he knew it, the class period had slipped away.
The trio quickly packed up their textbooks and wands, dashing out into the corridor outside the classroom.
"Kyle, are you coming with us to Transfiguration?" Marietta asked.
She noticed the Transfiguration textbook in Kyle's hand.
"Yeah, but you'll have to show me the way to the classroom. I don't know where it is."
The Transfiguration classroom was on the second floor of the castle. Even with two seasoned fifth-month castle veterans leading the way, the journey from the fourth floor to the second took nearly twenty minutes.
Kyle couldn't help but wonder if he'd hopped into one of those shady cabs that take the long route.
He mused to himself, If I just jumped down the stairs, would Cho and Marietta have to serve time in Azkaban?
When the three finally arrived at the Transfiguration classroom, Professor Minerva McGonagall was already waiting.
Professor McGonagall wore square glasses, her dark hair coiled into a tight, high bun, and a deep green robe draped over her frame.
The moment Kyle saw her stern, no-nonsense face, he instantly thought of his high school principal from his past life.
Not just similar—identical.
As the class bell rang, Professor McGonagall spoke, "Transfiguration is the most complex and dangerous subject taught at Hogwarts."
"Anyone who dares to misbehave in my classroom will be asked to leave—and never return."
As she said this, her eyes deliberately flicked toward Kyle, who was seated in the front row.
Kyle was certain her words were directed at him. Probably because Professor Flitwick tipped her off, he thought.
Meeting Professor McGonagall's piercing gaze through her square glasses, Kyle, ever the bold one, didn't flinch. Instead, he stared back with equal intensity.
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Professor McGonagall's lips. It had been years since she'd seen a student this audacious.
With a flick of her wand, she tapped the podium beside her.
In an instant, the podium transformed into a majestic, roaring lion, its deafening bellow aimed directly at Kyle before it lunged forward.
Startled, Kyle instinctively kicked out with tremendous force. The heavy wooden desk in front of him shot forward at an astonishing speed, propelled by sheer power, and slammed into the posturing lion with bone-rattling force.
"Water Release: Great Shark Bullet Technique!"
A massive torrent of water surged from Kyle's mouth, morphing midair into a ferocious shark with a gaping, tooth-filled maw.
The water shark chased down the lion, which had been sent flying by the desk, and with one vicious bite, obliterated its head.
Boom!
Boom!
The headless lion's body and the heavy desk crashed into the wall in quick succession, producing two dull, thunderous thuds.
The desk shattered into splinters, while the lion slowly reverted to its original form—a podium.
Uh… why was there a chunk missing from the podium now?
Crack, crack…
A web of countless cracks spread rapidly across the aged, antique podium. Moments later, it collapsed into a pile of fragments, lying silently on the floor as if accusing someone of its destruction.
Professor McGonagall: "…"
The entire class: "…"
Kyle: "…"
"Professor! This wasn't my fault! You started it!"
Professor McGonagall, now drenched from the exploded Great Shark Bullet, wore a face as dark as a storm cloud.
Kyle looked nervously at the furious professor. Am I about to get kicked out of class?
He might just be the first Hogwarts student in history to be expelled from a classroom before even officially enrolling.
Professor McGonagall took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.
She reminded herself that this wasn't entirely Kyle's fault. After all, she had wanted to show off the intricacies of Transfiguration in front of him first.
But as her gaze swept over the pile of debris in the corner and the large puddle of water on the floor, her face twitched again, her composure slipping.
Grindelwald's son… what kind of little monster is he?
The strength Kyle had displayed when he kicked that desk was probably comparable to a troll's.
And that magic she'd never seen before…
Professor McGonagall shook her head, forcing herself to stop dwelling on it.
Squeezing out a strained smile, she cast a spell to dry her clothes, repaired the desk and podium, and began her lesson.
Kyle let out a sigh of relief. Good, good. Professor McGonagall isn't going to make a fuss.
For the rest of the class, Kyle sat upright, listening attentively and quietly as Professor McGonagall explained how to transform a mouse into a goblet.
Unfortunately, he couldn't understand a single thing she said.
Ten minutes later, he still hadn't learned anything.
It made sense—his classmates had been studying Transfiguration for over five months, and he was completely behind.
Kyle's thoughts began to wander, drifting back to an important piece of information he'd gleaned from Professor Flitwick's class earlier.
The essence of magic is to make your thoughts reality…
If that was true, could he perform other elemental techniques beyond Water Release and Earth Release?
He had initially thought the power within him was chakra, limited to water and earth attributes.
But in reality, it wasn't chakra at all—it was magic.
And most importantly, magic was attribute-less.
If that was the case, then techniques like Ice Release, Crystal Release, Dust Release, Boil Release, or Storm Release—any bloodline limit that didn't rely on a specific physical trait—might be possible, right?
He'd have to find a chance to test that theory.
And that kick earlier… when he'd lashed out, he'd instinctively channeled a massive amount of magic into his leg.
Was that the technique behind Unmatched Strength?
As Kyle carefully recalled the moment he'd been startled by the lion and the reflexive flow of magic in his body, a matchstick floated to his desk.
Professor McGonagall's voice sounded beside him. "When I taught their first Transfiguration lesson, I started them with turning a matchstick into a needle."
Kyle looked up at Professor McGonagall, listening intently as she explained the basic theories of Transfiguration.
As a complete novice in the subject, Kyle found her explanations fascinating.
He knew she was teaching this specifically for him.
"Pay attention. When performing Transfiguration, a firm and decisive wand movement is crucial." With a wave of her wand, the matchstick in front of Kyle transformed instantly into a gleaming silver embroidery needle.
The needle reverted to its original form. "Now, try it yourself," Professor McGonagall said to Kyle.
At her words, Kyle eagerly drew his wand.
Performing Transfiguration should be similar to casting a Cutting Charm—both required channeling intent through the wand.
If he could form a clear mental image of the desired result, the Transfiguration was more likely to succeed.
Focusing intensely on the image of the silver needle Professor McGonagall had just conjured, Kyle lightly tapped the matchstick with the tip of his wand.
In the next second, the matchstick transformed into the exact silver needle he'd envisioned.
Wandless casting?
Professor McGonagall's pupils contracted. She suddenly realized that when she'd demonstrated the match-to-needle transformation for Kyle, she'd forgotten to tell him to recite the incantation.
She herself had used silent casting, a skill built on her profound mastery of Transfiguration.
With her level of expertise, she could perform most transformations silently or even wandlessly, as long as they weren't overly complex.
But she hadn't expected Kyle to pull it off too.
And on his first try.
She had to admit, he was truly the son of a Dark Lord.
Though Gellert Grindelwald's forte wasn't Transfiguration but Dark Magic, his skill in Transfiguration was still formidable—especially considering his connection with Albus Dumbledore, the greatest Transfiguration master of their time.
If this young Grindelwald had inherited his father's magical talent, his success on the first attempt wasn't entirely surprising.
Still, it was infuriating.
When McGonagall had learned Transfiguration, she'd managed to turn a matchstick into a needle within a day—but only after hours of relentless practice.
And Kyle…
The more she thought about it, the more exasperated she felt.
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