Chapter 60: The Professor Is Absolutely Right!

It wasn’t just Ian.

All the young wizards in the classroom were somewhat bewildered. They didn’t understand why Professor McGonagall was suddenly so furious. Wasn’t it just a puff of green smoke?

"Before class began, I distinctly remember reminding you all that caution is the foremost principle when learning Transfiguration." Professor McGonagall’s sharp gaze locked onto Ian, her eyes practically blazing.

"But clearly, Mr. Prince, you failed to take that lesson to heart." The stern-faced cat animagus radiated an aura of authority so oppressive that Ian instinctively shrank back.

"Apologies, Professor. I was simply struck by a sudden idea and wanted to experiment a little." Ian genuinely thought he had been careful. He had merely attempted to transfigure a matchstick into a gaseous form of Youth Potion.

He had even suppressed the far riskier impulse to attempt a vaporized Love Potion.

That should be considered cautious, shouldn’t it?

Besides, the experiment hadn’t even succeeded. Though the smoke had taken on the hue of the Youth Potion, it clearly lacked the defining magical properties of a true potion.

Perhaps his current Transfiguration level simply wasn’t high enough?

[Transfiguration (Level 3) 6/800]

After Professor McGonagall’s lesson and his own realizations, Ian’s Transfiguration skill had undergone a significant breakthrough, which was how he had managed to transmute the matchstick into smoke in the first place.

However—

Level 3 was evidently insufficient to support his more ambitious ideas. Anything with magical traces proved difficult to alter. He wasn’t sure if extraordinary or legendary traits could eventually bridge this gap.

"Have you considered what would happen if another student accidentally inhaled that smoke?" Professor McGonagall’s expression softened ever so slightly upon hearing Ian’s apology.

But her tone remained dangerously severe.

"They would suffer… but only if it went out of control," Ian replied succinctly. He was well aware of the potential dangers of Transfiguration vapors. He had no intention of using his classmates as test subjects.

In fact—

Ian could distinctly sense that as long as he didn’t actively reverse the spell’s effects, the transformation would likely last an exceptionally long time.

Possibly longer than the lifespans of many young wizards in the room.

"If you knew that, why did you still attempt something so dangerous?" McGonagall’s sharp eyes bore into him, revealing a flicker of concealed concern.

Could it be?

Was Hogwarts about to produce another brilliant yet reckless student?

"I wasn’t thinking about the risks at the time," Ian admitted, choosing his words carefully. "I was too focused on trying to understand the principles of Transfiguration… I wanted to see if it was possible to turn solid objects into gas or liquid."

Now was not the time to be stubborn, so he employed the art of half-truths—revealing just enough to sound sincere while omitting the more troubling aspects.

Hearing this, Professor McGonagall hesitated for a moment.

Then, her expression softened slightly.

"Very well, Mr. Prince. The fact that this happened is partly my fault as well." She sighed, her tone carrying a hint of regret.

"I never expected a first-year student to grasp Transfiguration at such an advanced level this early. I had intended to discuss these matters later in the curriculum."

"But now, to prevent further incidents, I will need to revise my teaching plan."

As she spoke, her eyes swept across the classroom, ensuring she had everyone’s attention.

"There are crucial principles in Transfiguration that you must always remember. Beyond the Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration, which you will study in the future, there are additional grave dangers to be mindful of as you advance."

Pausing, McGonagall shot Ian another glance—one filled with reluctant admiration.

Then, she continued.

"What Mr. Prince attempted just now falls into one of the most dangerous categories: transmuting objects into gases or liquids.

"Take, for instance, that smoke. If inhaled, and should the spell fail or be reversed, countless tiny wooden splinters would suddenly materialize inside the victim’s bloodstream and lungs, causing catastrophic internal damage."

Her voice was heavy with caution.

Just then—

"But isn’t that… kind of impressive?"

A soft mutter broke the silence.

Ian’s head snapped around immediately.

The speaker was none other than the adorable young witch who had once tried to transfigure her younger brother into a rainbow-colored pony.

He quickly double-checked his schedule.

Yes, today’s class was indeed with Hufflepuff.

"Of course, Miss Laura," McGonagall responded with the utmost seriousness.

"But that would be considered murder. A person might only survive if they happened to be in St. Mungo’s Hospital at that exact moment." Her expression darkened.

"I will not tolerate anyone using Transfiguration in such a way."

"If I ever find someone making light of such reckless behavior, expulsion will not be the worst consequence they face."

Her words were sharp and deliberate, carrying an unmistakable warning.

A solemn hush fell over the entire classroom.

Even Ian lowered his head, wisely choosing not to argue.

"Mr. Prince, your progress far exceeds my expectations. You’ve achieved feats that many upper-year students struggle with. But I expect you to never forget the principle of caution."

Her final words were a firm reminder, though no longer as harsh as before.

Checking the time, she declared the end of the lesson.

—

Finally free from the tense atmosphere, the students fled the classroom at impressive speed.

McGonagall remained behind, quietly tidying her lecture notes. She watched as Ian and his roommates, William and Michael, left together.

She opened her mouth as if to say something…

But in the end, she stayed silent.

—

"Ian! You have to teach me how to do that!"

"Merlin’s beard, Professor McGonagall was terrifying! I hereby declare her the most fearsome professor at Hogwarts!"

His two roommates chattered excitedly, deciding they needed a good meal to recover from the stress.

Since it was still the start of the school year, the schedule wasn’t too packed. After the morning’s Transfiguration class, they had a break before the next session—the dreaded Potions class.

"I need to send a letter first. You two go ahead."

Ian patted his robe, feeling the letter he had already written. He remembered that Hogwarts' Owlery was located in the West Tower.

It shouldn’t be too far, right?

After parting ways with his friends, he asked a senior student for directions. The older girl was exceptionally helpful—even offering to take him on a nighttime tour of the castle later.

But the more she talked…

The more Ian felt something was off.

Why would a night tour require chocolate syrup and a change of clothes?

"I’m only eleven! Isn’t there some kind of child protection law at Hogwarts?!"

Quickly thanking her, Ian made a hasty escape to the Owlery.

—

The Owlery, located at the top of the West Tower, was a circular stone chamber with an ancient, rustic atmosphere. The floor was littered with straw, owl droppings, and discarded mouse bones.

Hundreds of owls of all species perched on the rafters above.

"I need a letter delivered to the Wool's Orphanage."

Selecting a small white-faced scops owl, Ian pulled out a slightly stale piece of jerky.

The owl accepted the job… but refused the jerky.

Just as Ian was about to leave, his gaze fell upon a terrified mouse cornered by several owls—none of whom were making a move to eat it.

"Poor little guy."

On a whim, Ian drew his wand.

"Vera Verto!"

A soft, golden mist arose from the scattered straw.

Carried by an invisible force, it drifted silently toward the mouse’s twitching nose.

Unaware, the creature inhaled deeply.

Then—

"Vera Verto!"

With a sharp flick of his wand, Ian reinforced the transformation.

A moment later—

Countless razor-sharp steel spikes exploded from the mouse’s body.

Blood sprayed. Flesh tore.

The poor creature didn’t even have time to squeak before it was no more.

Even the surrounding owls flapped away in alarm, startled by the sudden transformation.

"There's still plenty of room for improvement. I think I’ll call this the Prince’s Death Curse."

Ian’s pulse quickened.

McGonagall’s lesson had inspired him.

He now understood that her warnings had been absolutely right.

Especially about caution.

Which was why—

In his pursuit of a new magical attack technique, he had carefully eliminated the possibility of the target surviving in St. Mungo’s.

"Having a proper teacher really makes all the difference!"