"Ah... haaah..."
The next morning at the Hufflepuff table, Marcel yawned, sleepily stuffing a slice of white bread into his mouth, having forgotten to even add jam. His school robe was crooked, clearly thrown on in a hurry. This sloppy appearance was quite out of step with his usual neat style.
"Hey, little junior, why so tired? Didn't sleep well last night?" the carefree senior, Charlotte, asked. She clearly didn't care about how others dressed, even though she was always beautifully turned out herself.
"Mmm... yeah, a little," Marcel nodded listlessly, his eyelids drooping as if he might fall asleep at any moment.
"Thinking about some little lady, are we?" Charlotte took the opportunity to tease him.
"Mmm, thinking about you, ahh..." Marcel replied instinctively, letting out another yawn.
Miss Charlotte clearly hadn't expected him to be able to fire back a retort so quickly even when half-asleep. She gave him a look that said, "I give up, you win."
"Alright! Wake up, class is starting soon." She raised her hand and gave Marcel a hard slap on the back. Marcel jumped in shock, the bread falling from his mouth onto the table.
"I say, senior, you didn't have to be so rough, did you?" Marcel winced. He could feel a red handprint throbbing on his back.
Just then, the owls arrived.
Marcel looked up, watching the great flock of owls swoop through the Great Hall, dropping their parcels and letters onto the laps of their recipients.
"Come to think of it, my Malfurion just lazes around in the dorm all day. It won't even go to the school Owlery. All it does is eat and sleep. It's been practically useless!" Marcel slapped his thigh as if struck by a sudden realization. "Why did I even buy it? Looks like I need to find something for it to do..."
Just as Marcel was thinking about sending his owl out for a stroll, a black shadow shot in from the main entrance of the Great Hall, scaring the other owls into a scattered frenzy.
"Huh?" Hearing the commotion, Marcel looked up again, only to see his own owl, Malfa, diving toward him. Like a bomber, it dropped a large package onto the empty space behind Marcel with a loud thud.
"Hoo," Malfa hooted, then landed on the table and began pecking at the other slice of bread on Marcel's plate.
"Is that your owl?" Charlotte stared at Malfa with curiosity. "He's so strong! I want one just like him. Where did you buy him?"
"The Giant Spider in Knockturn Alley," Marcel answered casually, pulling out a slip of paper tucked into the package. "Oh, the books I ordered from Flourish and Blotts have arrived."
Marcel had specially ordered these books from Flourish and Blotts a few days before the start of term. They were books on Potions and Herbology. Although all of them could be found in the library, the library books didn't allow you to scribble all over them.
Charlotte leaned over for a look and said in surprise, "Little junior, are you planning to finish all of Hogwarts' courses in your first year?"
Marcel stuffed the booklist back onto the package, saying it was impossible, and then lifted the large parcel to head back to the common room. He had to put these books in his dormitory before class started.
As he passed the Gryffindor table, Harry called out to him.
"Hey, Marcel! Hagrid's invited me for a cup of tea. Want to come?" he asked, waving a note at Marcel.
"When?" Marcel asked.
"This afternoon, around three o'clock!" Harry replied.
"I have class this afternoon. Say hello to Hagrid for me. I'll go see him another time."
Harry nodded, then bent over the table and scribbled something on the back of the note before giving it to Hedwig to send off.
This morning was Hufflepuff's first Transfiguration lesson.
The professor for Transfiguration was Minerva McGonagall. Like Snape, she was a strict teacher.
But unlike Snape, Professor McGonagall treated all four houses equally. She would severely punish any student who broke the school rules.
Therefore, although most students were afraid of this stern-faced, veteran professor, it was a fear born of genuine respect.
There was no doubt that a great number of students respected her from the bottom of their hearts.
Professor McGonagall's teaching style was always concise and effective. Right at the start of the lesson, she gave all the students a show of her power.
"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. I have said this to every new class, and I hope you will take it as a warning."
Then, she changed her desk into a pig and back again.
Most of the students were captivated by this magical feat, and Marcel was no exception. In fact, Marcel was probably the student who best understood its difficulty. He had learned about it beforehand from A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.
So far, Marcel had finished reading several of the required textbooks, and he considered this subject to be the most difficult.
The difficulty of Transfiguration did not just depend on a wizard's understanding of its principles; that was merely the starting point. To truly master Transfiguration, the greatest challenge lay in a thorough understanding of the properties of the objects before and after the change.
Wizards learning Transfiguration had to not only study the physical properties of objects in depth but also have the highest possible understanding and control over their magical properties. It was incredibly complex, profound, and arguably endless.
For example, a novice wizard might be able to turn a matchstick into a sewing needle of about the same size. A master of Transfiguration, however, could turn that matchstick into needles of various models, materials, and even textures, and maintain the transformation for a hundred years.
Of course, besides the differences in precision and energy consumption, the greatest distinction lay in the level of understanding.
This was a long-term research subject that required a great deal of time. Marcel discovered there were no shortcuts; it could only be accumulated through daily study and research.
In class, Marcel managed to turn his assigned feather into a lump of metal. He still didn't have very good control over the shape of the object, but Professor McGonagall still gave him a nod. For a beginner, being able to induce a change in substance was already an excellent performance.
In the afternoon, there was another sleep-inducing History of Magic class. Professor Binns always lectured on major historical events of the wizarding world in his monotonous, droning voice. His emotionless teaching style made almost all students lose interest in the class.
But Marcel listened with great interest. He had discovered that Professor Binns' lectures were not just recitations from the textbook. They were extremely well-organized, and occasionally included details that were even omitted from the books. He believed that this respectable professor, the only ghost teacher at Hogwarts, must have carefully prepared for his lessons every night.
Of course, it might also be because ghosts don't need to sleep, which gave him a lot of extra time. If he didn't do something, he would probably be bored enough to want to die a second time.
"I heard that Professor Binns was the History of Magic professor at Hogwarts even when he was alive. He died one day when he came to teach but accidentally left his body behind," Ernie whispered from beside Marcel.
"As you say, Professor Binns not only dedicated the latter half of his life to teaching, but he continues this difficult persistence even after death," Marcel said with a nod.
"Now that you put it that way, it really is like that!"
Ernie was stunned for a moment, realizing it was true. He couldn't help but straighten his back and listen attentively, but it wasn't long before he slumped over again. The subject itself was just too boring.
History of Magic might have been extremely trying for other students, but for Marcel, the time seemed to fly by.
"Marcel, where are you going? Not coming to the common room for a game of Wizard's Chess?" Ernie asked, surprised.
The History of Magic classroom was on the second floor. The little badgers heading back to their dorms were all walking downstairs, exchanging various bits of gossip, while Marcel alone was heading up the staircase.
"Oh, I need to go to the library to look up some information," Marcel said over his shoulder without breaking his stride. He soon disappeared from Ernie's sight as the staircase automatically turned.
The library, located on the fifth floor of the main Hogwarts castle, was a behemoth with a massive collection of books.
Here, you could find almost any magical book currently in print, or that had ever been published. Of course, a large section was the so-called "Restricted Section," which could not be accessed without a signed note from the Headmaster or the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
The librarian was Madam Pince, a thin, elderly, and irritable woman who looked like a malnourished, bad-tempered old vulture.
She regarded the books in the library as her life and would throw out any student who attempted to deface or damage them. In her view, these precious books were her private treasures, and it would be best if no one came in at all.
It wasn't long after classes had ended, so there were only a few Gryffindor first-years in the library. Their house had no scheduled classes that afternoon.
"...Magical creatures... magical creatures... Here it is!"
Marcel stood on his tiptoes and pulled a book titled Habitats and Habits of Humanoid Magical Creatures from a high shelf. He immediately stood there and began flipping through the pages.