Saturday afternoon arrived, crisp and clear, and Alex walked briskly to the staff lounge beside Professor McGonagall's office.
He was right on time.
When he stepped inside, a few students were already there — older, more experienced, and very clearly aware that they belonged to a place that most Hogwarts students would never set foot in.
Two of them he recognized.
One was Deborah Baink, Ravenclaw's sixth-year prefect — short-haired, sharp-eyed, and exuding an air of calm confidence that made her seem older than her years. The other was Ian Marshall, another sixth-year from their House, polite but distant.
Both looked up as Alex entered. Deborah smiled and waved him over.
"Hello, senior," Alex greeted politely as he took a seat beside her.
"My, what a well-mannered junior," she said with a soft laugh. "A first-year joining the Transfiguration Club — that's quite the achievement. You're bringing glory to Ravenclaw, you know."
Alex rubbed the back of his neck, modestly shaking his head. "You're too kind. Professor McGonagall just thinks I have a bit of talent, that's all."
Deborah raised an eyebrow. "A bit of talent? Please. She doesn't invite students in here unless they can make even her blink."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Still, you might want to be careful. The two Slytherins over there don't seem too thrilled about your arrival."
Alex followed her gaze.
Across the room, two Slytherin boys sat slouched in their chairs, muttering under their breath. Both had narrow faces and pale, unhealthy skin — the kind of look that screamed inbred pure-blood aristocracy. Their eyes met Alex's, and what shone in them was pure disdain.
He met their gaze evenly, unbothered.
He had fought Dark Lords before. What were two inbred snakes compared to that?
Besides, since coming to Hogwarts, his "system" had been more than generous. Every day brought a new spell or enhancement. Many of his charms now rivaled Auror-level incantations. His transfiguration knowledge, refined by repeated sign-ins, was far beyond what a first-year should even dream of.
So no, he wasn't nervous.
He just smiled back at Deborah. "Don't worry, senior. I'll manage fine."
That smile was bright enough to make Deborah blink — warm, self-assured, and carrying a quiet charm that made it impossible not to like him.
Moments later, the door opened, and in swept Professor McGonagall.
She wore deep emerald robes and her signature pointed hat, her stern expression softened only slightly when her eyes fell on Alex.
"Good afternoon, everyone," she said crisply. "Today we welcome a new member — Mr. Alex Gaunt."
She gestured toward him.
Alex rose, gave a polite nod to the room, and then bowed lightly to McGonagall herself before sitting back down.
The others applauded — politely, though the two Slytherin boys clapped just twice, out of sheer obligation.
McGonagall's eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't comment.
"Now," she continued, "as is tradition, we'll begin with a small test for our new member. A simple demonstration of transfiguration ability. Who would like to assist?"
Before Alex could even glance around, one of the Slytherin boys shot to his feet.
"Professor," he said quickly, flashing an oily grin, "I'd be honored to test Mr. Gaunt's skill."
The sneer that followed made Alex's stomach twist in disgust.
McGonagall's lips thinned, but she nodded. "Very well, Mr. Burst. You will serve as Mr. Gaunt's assistant."
With a flick of her wand, two wooden chairs floated over and landed before them.
"Each of you will transfigure your chair into an animal," she instructed. "Your task is to duel using those creatures. Remember — no spells other than transfiguration. No direct attacks on your opponent. Is that clear?"
Both boys nodded.
"Then begin."
Burst moved first, wand flashing as his chair shimmered and reshaped into a hyena — muscular, snarling, its eyes glinting red in the candlelight.
With a hiss, it lunged straight at Alex's chair.
Alex didn't flinch. His wand gave a subtle tap.
In an instant, his chair expanded — the wood thickening, curving, and darkening until it stood before him as a massive Welsh water buffalo. Its horns gleamed like polished iron, enormous and deadly.
When the hyena struck, the buffalo lowered its head and charged.
Crack!
The impact sent Burst's creature flying across the room, skidding into a heap of splinters and fur.
Gasps rippled through the group. Even Deborah sat up straighter, impressed.
Burst's jaw tightened. He'd thought this would be easy — humiliate the first-year, remind him where he belonged. But now, red-faced and sweating, he scrambled to recover.
He jabbed his wand toward the fallen hyena.
"Transmutare Avium!"
A shimmer passed over the creature. Slowly — too slowly — it began to morph. The fur turned to feathers, the limbs into wings.
It was supposed to become a hawk.
Instead, it turned into something that looked halfway between a turkey and a barn owl. The wings were lopsided, trembling awkwardly as it tried to lift off the ground.
Alex sighed.
This is embarrassing.
Still, he didn't interfere. If he interrupted now, the idiot might accuse him of being "unfair."
Finally, after thirty long seconds, Burst's creature managed to hover unevenly in the air.
Alex tilted his head.
So that was supposed to be a challenge?
He flicked his wand.
His water buffalo shimmered, shifting in one smooth, elegant motion into a silver hawk — its wingspan stretching nearly two meters wide, feathers gleaming like polished steel.
The hawk soared upward, crying out sharply — a sound that sliced through the room like a blade.
Its eyes locked onto Burst's pitiful bird with ruthless precision.
Pathetic.
The next moment, the silver hawk dove.
The impact was explosive — feathers, splinters, and fragments scattered across the floor. Burst's malformed bird didn't stand a chance. It crashed down, dissolving instantly back into what it once was: a broken, splintered chair.
Silence fell.
Then —
Crack.
A single feather from Alex's hawk drifted down, glinting under the candlelight before vanishing in a puff of gold smoke.
McGonagall's lips twitched — a rare hint of pride.
Deborah exhaled softly, eyes wide.
And Burst? His face was white as parchment.
Alex, still calm and perfectly composed, lowered his wand.
"Sorry about your chair," he said lightly. "Guess I got carried away."
A few Ravenclaws snickered. Even Ian couldn't hide a grin.
For a long moment, McGonagall said nothing — then finally spoke, her voice steady but filled with approval.
"Well done, Mr. Gaunt. You may take your seat."
Alex bowed again before returning to his chair, wearing a quiet smile.
He'd passed the test. And more than that — he'd made sure no one in the Transfiguration Club would ever underestimate him again.
--------------
Access 30 chapters in advance on my Patreon: pat reon.com /OneFic.