“I understand, Professor. That’s a fair request.”

Dawn caught on to what Professor McGonagall meant and drew his wand from his sleeve.

“Very well. Do you need some time to prepare?” Professor McGonagall pulled out a few necessary items from her office and looked at the boy standing before her.

“No need, Professor.”

McGonagall nodded. “Then let’s start with the first-year material.”

She picked up a piece of parchment bearing the image of a lion and a small cage containing a mouse, and began to explain as if she were in a classroom:

“First-year students are expected to master transformations between inanimate objects and, to some extent, transformations of living creatures into inanimate objects.”

“So, Dawn, I’d like you to first turn this lion into an animated roaring illustration. Then, transform this mouse into a finely crafted snuffbox.”

Dawn nodded without protest. He waved his wand and, without uttering a spell, completed the tasks smoothly.

“Not bad,” Professor McGonagall remarked, visibly pleased.

Watching from the side, Hermione’s eyes widened, and then she clutched at her falling hair in frustration.

Though she had known that Dawn might be stronger, witnessing him effortlessly accomplish what had stumped her—transforming a living creature into an object—filled her with a bitter sense of inadequacy.

McGonagall wasted no time and brought out a tortoise and a hedgehog.

“Second-year students are expected to master all techniques for turning living creatures into non-living objects.”

“Dawn, please transform the tortoise into a perfectly timed hourglass that measures exactly one minute, with no more than a three-second margin of error.”

“Then, for the hedgehog, I want you to perform a partial transformation, turning all its quills into feathers.”

Second-year tasks were considerably harder than the first-year ones, especially partial transfigurations, which required fine control.

But once again, Dawn completed them without difficulty.

He realized he had a natural affinity for magic. With just five years of self-study and practice in wandless magic, he could cast most spells with ease.

It might seem unscientific to others, but to a wizard, it was proof enough that obsessive belief could overcome all limits.

Professor McGonagall continued with the examination.

Compared to the second-year material, third-year transfiguration took a significant leap in difficulty—bringing inanimate objects to life.

And to pass this test, McGonagall had an additional requirement: the resulting creature had to exhibit lifelike behavior.

Lifelike… A requirement that many fourth-year students couldn’t meet.

But Dawn knew he could.

Following her guidance, his eyes fell on an empty trash bin in the corner. He gave his wand a light flick.

Instantly, the trash bin writhed and transformed into a large croaking toad, hopping wildly across the office.

McGonagall conjured a piece of paper into a snake and set it slithering off the desk. With a snap of its tail, it darted toward the toad.

The startled toad let out a terrified croak.

“Excellent!” McGonagall’s eyes lit up.

The toad Dawn created was full of life! And judging by his ease, it was clear he wasn’t even pushing himself.

A truly promising talent!

For the first time in a long while, a rare smile appeared on McGonagall’s otherwise stern face.

But that made her all the more eager for Dawn to take a few years to truly settle and refine his skills.

“Fourth-year students are expected to master sequential transformations.”

She didn’t lower the difficulty. Instead, she retrieved a piece of parchment from her desk.

“Dawn, transform the parchment into a snake, then the snake into an umbrella, and finally the umbrella into an eagle. Make the eagle dive and swoop three times.”

This set didn’t necessarily surpass the third-year test in difficulty, as it mostly tested fluency in prior knowledge.

Dawn performed the sequence effortlessly. The gap between each transformation didn’t even exceed two seconds.

“Perfect!”

Professor McGonagall couldn’t possibly claim he failed.

“Professor, what kind of transfiguration comes next?”

“Nothing else.”

McGonagall shook her head. “Fifth-year students spend the entire year preparing for their O.W.L.s. There’s no new transfiguration content.”

“Then I’ve passed?” Dawn lowered his wand and reached for the club application form.

But McGonagall pressed a hand on the form. “No, Dawn. That was only half the exam.”

She opened a drawer and pulled out four or five written papers. “Besides the practical portion, you must also earn an ‘Outstanding’ grade on the theory exams.”

With a sigh, Dawn accepted the papers.

He borrowed a quill from Professor McGonagall and quietly began answering the questions.

It wasn’t difficult at all.

Since discovering the wizarding world at the age of six, Dawn had been self-studying. Naturally, he started with Hogwarts’ seven years of curriculum.

So whether it was writing out the Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration from memory or analyzing the potential connection between transfiguration and vanishing spells, it all came easily to him.

Professor McGonagall only watched for a moment. Then, casting a silencing spell over Dawn, she turned to Hermione.

“Miss Granger, now that you’ve observed everything, what have you learned?”

“Learned…?” Hermione, lost in thought, was startled by the question and looked flustered.

Oh no…

She’d spent the whole time just being shocked and dazed!

“Yes. I thought watching a transfiguration exam would benefit you, which is why I asked you to stay.”

McGonagall nodded, but seeing Hermione’s embarrassed expression, she quickly caught on and frowned slightly.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Miss Granger.”

“Though you and Mr. Richter both come from Muggle families, he’s had five years of magical self-study before enrolling.”

“It’s completely natural for him to surpass you at this stage… In my eyes, you are in no way inferior to him.”

Not inferior?

Hearing that, Hermione blinked, and the heavy weight on her heart seemed to lift.

So that was it… It wasn’t that she was too weak—it was that Dawn had a five-year head start!

Her eyes lit up, and the sense of inferiority she felt when facing Dawn quietly melted away.

Seeing her student’s spirit return, McGonagall nodded and didn’t press further.

“You’ve done well today, Miss Granger. Would you like to leave first?”

“No, thank you.”

Hermione’s mood had clearly improved, and she shook her head. “I’ll wait for Dawn… Actually, I have a few questions I’d like to ask him.”

McGonagall said nothing more and simply gestured for her to take a seat before turning her attention back to the incident report she hadn’t finished writing.

……

It didn’t take long.

Dawn quickly finished answering all five written papers.

Professor McGonagall checked them carefully, then sighed and stamped each one with a bold “O” for Outstanding.

“Alright. Since you’ve passed the test, I’ll keep my word.”

She handed him the club application form, and while Dawn filled it out, she gave him a quick briefing about the club.

“Aside from you, there are currently six other students in my transfiguration club.”

“But three of them are seventh-years preparing for their N.E.W.T.s, so they won’t be attending the gatherings anymore.”

“In other words, counting you, only four members will actively participate.”

Dawn nodded in understanding.

It seemed McGonagall’s transfiguration club truly prioritized quality over quantity—completely different from Slughorn’s social-style club.

Speaking of Slughorn… Dawn recalled the potion shop owner, Giggs, who had supposedly made contact with the professor.

He wondered how Giggs’ acquisition of Felix Felicis was going. It had been a while since he last heard from him.

“The meetings take place on the east corridor of the castle’s third floor. The exact location will remain a secret for now. Consider it a small trial of your abilities.”

“Unless under special circumstances, it’s best to arrive at the club before 2 p.m.”

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