Transfiguration.

It was a branch of magic that allowed objects or living beings to change from one form into another. It could turn wood into a pig, or a pig into wood.

The fact that it had been separated from general spellcasting and developed as a major field of study spoke volumes about its importance.

At Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall was the leading authority in Transfiguration.

She could completely transform herself into an animal and was one of only seven registered Animagi in Britain in the twentieth century.

Aside from her, Dumbledore himself was also a master of Transfiguration.

Before becoming Headmaster, he had taught the subject at Hogwarts and frequently contributed articles to ‘Transfiguration Today’. He often used Transfiguration to create opportunities during duels as well.

Therefore, Dawn had always taken Transfiguration very seriously.

Especially now, with a clearer understanding of his own abilities, Transfiguration had become something indispensable to him.

Today was Tuesday.

The sky outside was overcast.

Dawn sat in the back row of the classroom, waiting for the Transfiguration class to begin alongside the Slytherins.

His choice of seat was partly out of personal habit but mostly because the first four rows had been completely occupied by the overachievers of Ravenclaw.

Even though he had arrived twenty minutes early and thought he was among the first, it turned out that Ravenclaws were everywhere, filling up the prime seats.

Thus, Dawn found himself stuck sitting among the Slytherins.

For example…

Just ahead of him, he could clearly see the platinum blond hair of Draco Malfoy, who was chattering non-stop with one of his followers.

But Dawn had no interest in paying attention to them.

Propping his chin on his hand, he stared intently at the tabby cat sitting upright on the podium, trying hard to recall the magic patterns he had seen during his first encounter with Professor McGonagall.

And then he realized something—

They were completely different. Nearly a quarter of the patterns floating within her magical mist had entirely changed.

Why was that?

Dawn’s crimson eyes narrowed in the gloom.

It was obvious: because of the Animagus transformation. But did that mean a spell could change a person’s magic?

Dawn thought for a moment. That seemed unlikely. So then he asked himself: What could spells change?

Spell after spell flickered through his mind.

The Memory Charm could alter memories. The Cruciatus Curse could affect the soul. Transfiguration could change material properties. Animagus magic could alter the body.

It all became very clear.

Dawn chuckled to himself.

He realized how blind he had been!

Because he could see patterns drifting within the magical mist, he had stubbornly believed everything was tied directly to magic itself, always trying to fit every observation into that framework.

And in the month following his magical outburst, he hadn’t witnessed anyone casting spells on each other in the Leaky Cauldron or Diagon Alley.

Thus, his misunderstanding had persisted until now.

Maybe, if he had been more alert during the train ride when he cast spells on Aemon and the others, he could have noticed it sooner—

The patterns did not represent magic itself! They represented the inherent traits of a wizard or an object.

The shattered patterns he had seen in a wizard’s magic symbolized memory damage. The altered patterns he now observed around McGonagall after her transformation reflected physical changes.

If he were to explain it more vividly, the patterns were like the attributes of something in a game: type, name, effect, and so on.

Then what about magic? What was magic’s role?

Dawn stroked his chin thoughtfully.

One thing was certain: only in places where the magic density was strong enough could he see the patterns that represented intrinsic traits.

It was like scratches on a rock that became visible only after sprinkling sand over it.

Aside from that?

He tapped his fingers rhythmically on the desk, deep in thought.

Up ahead, Malfoy seemed annoyed by the sound and shot him a glare, but said nothing. After all, as long as it didn’t involve Harry, Draco still retained some semblance of noble etiquette.

Dawn didn’t notice any of this. His mind was filled with only two sentences.

◇Magic could change those patterns.

◇The process of magic altering patterns was what spells truly were!

Everything fit perfectly.

If this world was a game, then wizards with magic were like players wielding the ultimate cheat codes.

They could make the colorless air shine.

They could make heavy objects float. They could alter the shape of anything they wished. They could manipulate intangible souls at will.

They could live within a material world in a purely idealistic way!

Even potions followed the same principles.

It was through the participation of magic that the traits of different herbs could react and transform, producing astonishing effects.

Dawn finally understood why his earlier attempts to manipulate patterns had failed! It wasn’t about altering patterns directly to affect magic.

It was about using magic to alter patterns!

A fundamental difference!

“Everything is just too fascinating,” Dawn muttered with a low laugh. Though he still lacked complete, undeniable proof, he no longer doubted his reasoning.

This time, he was absolutely sure.

Because it matched his heart perfectly!

He believed in science, being born a Muggle and educated systematically in his dreams. Hence, the fixed traits of all things appeared to him as patterns.

He believed in idealism, having become a wizard and actually wielded spells.

Thus, in his eyes, magic could reshape the very nature of reality. And because of the dream, he had always felt a slight detachment from this world.

Therefore, magic felt to him exactly like the modification tools of a game.

Everything fit so well.

Dawn could feel his heart pounding in excitement. A month after his magical outburst, he was once again overwhelmed by the miracles unfolding before him.

The magic had captured the deepest complexities of his heart with uncanny precision and presented the world in a form so aligned with his inner self.

He even wondered, if someone firmly believed in science, could they also interpret magic scientifically?

Dawn believed it was possible.

Because magic fulfilled every wizard’s desires.

“Transfiguration is the most complex and dangerous magic you will study at Hogwarts!” At that moment, a voice rang out from the front of the classroom.

The tabby cat on the podium leapt into the air.

Amid the gasps of the students, it twisted and morphed into the stern figure of Professor McGonagall.

Wearing her usual green robes, McGonagall swept a piercing gaze over the class, feeling very satisfied with the effect of her entrance.

As a seasoned professor, she knew that if she didn’t immediately establish authority, managing this batch of young wizards would become increasingly troublesome.

“Anyone foolish enough to cause trouble in my class will be sent out—and banned from returning!”

McGonagall warned sternly. She raised her wand, preparing to demonstrate the wonders of Transfiguration.

But just then—

The door behind her swung open with a bang.

“S-sorry, Professor…”

A chubby boy leaned against the doorframe, panting heavily. “I… I forgot which classroom it was.”

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