So it was, after all, just like this—nothing more.

  The mist that had long troubled Ian was now dispelled as if by a Quietus Charm, and he saw that the path ahead was not just a climb to the mountain’s peak.

  There was also... the sery in the sky after the clouds had cleared.

  "Wizards as gods..."

  Clearly.

  This was paring wizards to beings with divine power— like gods, bestowing rules upon matter as if it were sed nature.

  "If it's about bestowing new rules, then why does Transfiguratioually lose its effect..." Ian did not voice his fusion aloud.

  Because the moment, he had already figured out the answer himself.

  Wizards as gods— the "gods" here were actually the innate magical power of wizards. Magic beloo the wizard, and this was simply a maion of their own immense power.

  Any form of material distortion, any redefinition of form, all inated from magic— the wizard’s magic ag as a force to rewrite and reshape the world’s fual ws.

  When magic existed within a transformed object, it could be seen as new rules overwriting the old, allowing oo alter reality at will.

  However.

  If separated from the wizard, the magic would eventually dissipate— perhaps due to the natural restoration of the material world, or perhaps due to other forces at py.

  In any case, ohe magic maintaining the transformation was depleted, the inal form of the object would reemerge— just as Lily Potter’s Transfiguration had faded the moment she died.

  Because the souragio longer existed.

  Even if it had not been pletely exhausted.

  Transfiguration still could not be maintained.

  "Perhaps, it's not ption, but the return of magical power?" Iahat to verify this theory, he o achieve a successful Transfiguration.

  "Vera Verto!"

  Ian once again picked up his wand and performed Transfiguration ochsti the table.

  This time.

  He discarded plex thoughts and imagined himself as the Creator.

  [Successfully performed Transfiguration. Transfiguration level increased.]

  Ian’s personal panel ged, and so did the matchstick— it turned into a slender iron needle, plete with delicate engravings.

  "A marvelous spell, a perfederstanding!" Professonagall, even though she had anticipated it, could not help but excim in admiration upon seeing Ian’s transformation.

  The S Hat truly had not made a mistake.

  A successor to Ravencw after a millennium... so stunning!

  "Ian! You’re amazing!" Michael cheered beside him. With someone leading the way, the surrounding students, whether they wao or not, cpped as well.

  After all, they were from the Eagle and Badger houses.

  When a housemate excelled, Ravencw students did not get jealous. And in Hufflepuff, if someone was happy, everyone joined in the joy.

  "What did the professor just write?"

  "Is it a secret teique of Transfiguration?"

  "Merlin’s beard! I didn’t see it!"

  The earlier versatioween Ian and the professor still puzzled many. Several Ravencws were frustrated, feeling they had missed out on araordinary lesson.

  "Thank you, Professor. I think I uand... but this does not pletely answer all my doubts." Ian first thanked Professonagall for her guidance.

  Then.

  He stared at the needle oable and pondered carefully.

  "The study of Transfiguration is endless. At least you have done well at this stage." Professonagall nodded and turo assist the remaining students who had yet to plete their transformations.

  The was bustling.

  Many young wizards who had pleted their assigs were eagerly trying to undo ahe transformation, while Ia his eyes fixed on the needle before him.

  "A small part of my magic has fallen silent, yet it still exists within me..." Iahe e between himself and the needle.

  Clearly.

  Though the magic was not truly "ed," the force within it was tinuously maintaining the needle’s form.

  He could sehat if he severed this e, a portion of his magic would immediately be restored. But at the same time, the matchstick would return to its inal state.

  This was an undeniable fact.

  "The effect each portion of magi exert is actually limited. When I apply a sustained influen reality, that influence will eventually release into the world."

  "A wizard’s magical prowess determihe strength of this influehat’s also why the higher my magic level on my personal pahe more powerful my spells."

  On his first day of school.

  Ian had already deepened his uanding of magic.

  Of course.

  This did not mean his previous prehension was entirely wrong.

  After all, it was merely a deviation— not an error. He had simply yet to grasp the essenagic fully. This also reted to the magi had been learning all along.

  Existing spells.

  Were merely discoveries made by others.

  They beloo the realm where one could study pre-established knowledge, advang only within the limits already explored by past wizards. Ian had been abs the wisdom of others.

  Whether it was Charms.

  Or A Runes.

  They were all methods to harhe influehin magic, guiding it toredetermined outes.

  The Killing Curse caused death.

  The Fire-Making Charm ignited fmes.

  And so on.

  Uhis framework.

  Even though Ian had reized the limitations of Charms and the greater flexibility of Runes... he had overlooked that magic itself represented infinite possibilities.

  "Charms and Runes are merely tools— guidahe more Ian thought, the more his mind opened up.

  Indeed, as Professonagall had said, a wizard’s magic was the foundation of "gods." To exert influehis was the true path to mastery!

  "Vera Verto!"

  Ian wao test his newfound insight. He softly ted the intation again, and the shining silver needle oable began to ge once more, peeling away yer by yer into strands of green smoke.

  "Wow! It’s turning into smoke! That’s brilliant!"

  "Same color as my sister’s socks this m!"

  The surrounding young wizards excimed.

  Hearing this, Professonagall turned her head— and instantly froze. Her previously posed expression torted in horror. Without hesitation, she raised her wand.

  "Finite Intatem!"

  The ter-spell’s effect was immediate.

  The drifting smoke reformed into the inal matchstick.

  "Huh?"

  Iahe return of his magic. He looked up in fusion—only to see Professonagall, who had been so posed moments ago, now charging over like an enraged lioness.

  "Mr. Prince! Azkaban has no age limit!"

  (End of Chapter)

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