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  It was not just Ian.

  All the young witches and wizards in the were equally bewildered by these words, uo prehend why Professonagall had suddenly bee so furious. Surely, it was just a puff of green smoke?

  "Before css, I distinctly remember emphasizing that caution is the foremost rule in learning Transfiguration," Professonagall stated, her sharp gaze pierg Ian like a well-aimed hex.

  "But clearly, Mr. Prince, you failed to take that lesson to heart," She added, her stern expression making Ian instinctively shrink into himself.

  "Sorry, Professor, I just had a sudden thought and wao test it out," Ian admitted, feeling that he had, in fact, been quite careful. He had merely attempted to transfigure the matchstito a misty rejuvenation potion.

  At least he had resisted the temptation to try turning it into a love potion.

  Surely that ted as caution?

  Besides.

  The attempt hadn’t even worked. While the smoke had taken on the rejuvenation potion’s distinctive color, Ian could tell it cked any actual magical properties.

  Perhaps his current level of Transfiguration wasn’t suffit?

  [Transfiguration (Level 3) 6/800]

  After Professonagall’s lesson and his own insights, Ian’s grasp of Transfiguration had made remarkable progress, enabling him to achieve more intricate transformations.

  However.

  Level 3 Transfiguration clearly wasn’t enough t his more ambitious ideas to life. It seemed that shaping substances with i magical qualities required an eveer level of mastery— perhaps even a touch of legendary talent.

  "Have you sidered the sequences if audent had actally ihat smoke?" Professonagall’s stern expression softened slightly at Ian’s apology, but her voice remained firm.

  "They could have been harmed… if the magic became unstable," Ian admitted suctly. He was well aware of the dangers of untrolled Transfiguration and had no iion of using his cssmates as test subjects.

  In fact.

  Ian could feel that as long as he didn’t actively cel the transformation, its effects might st for… a very, very long time.

  Perhaps even lohan some wizards’ lifespans.

  "If you khat, then why proceed with such a reckless experiment?" Professonagall’s gaze lingered on Ian, a trace of hidden withiern demeanor.

  Was Hogwarts about to see the rise of another exceptionally taleroublemaker?

  "I wasn’t thinking that far ahead. I was simply trying to uand the principles of Transfiguration— whether it ossible to turn solid objects into gas or liquid."

  Iahis wasn’t the time tue, so he skillfully employed the art of diplomacy— just enough truth to be ving.

  At this.

  Professonagall hesitated for a moment.

  Then, her expression softened ever so slightly.

  "Very well, Mr. Pri seems I too bear some responsibility in this matter," The elder witch sighed, her toinged with refle.

  "I hadn’t anticipated a student reag su advaage of transformation in their very first lesson. I had po address these s ter ierm."

  "However, given the circumstances, it’s clear I must adjust my teag approach to prevent simir is iure," Professonagall said, her gaze sweeping over the .

  "There are crucial aspects of Transfiguration that extend beyond what we have covered today. In addition to Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration, which you will study ter, there are also serious risks involved when attempting advaransfiguration."

  At this point.

  Professonagall shot Ian another look of quiet astonishment.

  Then she tinued, "What Mr. Prince just demonstrated is something you must all approach with extreme caution. Transf objects into gas or liquid is exceptionally dangerous."

  "Take that smoke just now— if inhaled, and if the spell were to fail or break, those transfigured particles could revert to their inal solid form ihe inhaler’s body, causing catastrophic damage to their lungs and bloodstream."

  Her voice rang with authority, her words carrying an unmistakable weight.

  And at that moment.

  "Isn’t that incredible?"

  A hushed murmur broke the silence of the .

  Ian turned his head, only to find that the speaker was her than the bright-eyed young witch who had once decred her wish to transfigure her younger brother into a rainbow-colored pony.

  He couldn’t help but g the schedule again.

  Yes, today’s lesson was indeed with Hufflepuff.

  "Of course, Miss Laura, it is impressive… but—"

  Professonagall’s expression turned deadly serious.

  "It would also stitute attempted murder. And uhe victim was fortunate enough to be treated at St. Mungo’s immediately, the sequences would be fatal. I will not tolerate reckless behavior when it es to Transfiguration."

  "Anyone foolish enough to experiment on others will find that expulsion is far from the worst sequehey might face."

  Professonagall’s warning carried an unmistakable finality. The room fell into a heavy silehe young students clearly unnerved by the gravity of her words.

  Even Ian lowered his head slightly, wisely choosing not to interject.

  "Mr. Prince, you have aplished something that even many advaudents struggle with. Your progress has exceeded all my expectations. But I urge you to take the principles of caution and responsibility even more seriously."

  Professonagall cluded her lecture with a measured but firm tohen, after a g the clock, she finally annouhe end of the lesson.

  The moment they were released from the weighty atmosphere, the students hurried to pack their things and leave. Professonagall remai her desk, tidying up her notes, her eyes flickering toward Ian, William, and Michael as they exited.

  She parted her lips slightly.

  But in the end, she hesitated and said nothing.

  "Ian, you have to teach me that!"

  "Merlin’s beard, Professonagall was absolutely terrifying! I decre her the most terrifying professor at Hogwarts!"

  His two roommates chattered animatedly.

  Then, as if by unanimous agreement, they decided they needed a hearty meal to recover from the experience.

  Si was still early ierm.

  The css schedule wasn’t yet overwhelming. After their m Transfiguration lesson, their css wouldn’t be until the afternoon— a nightmare for many Hogwarts students.

  Potions css.

  Ian tucked the ly folded letter into his robes and gowards the West Tower, where the Hogwarts Owlery was located.

  "I still o send a letter. You two go ahead," he told his roommates before parting ways.

  Perhaps it wasn’t too far?

  As he made his way through the corridors, he stopped a passing senior student to ask for dires. The older student was more than happy to help—perhaps a little too enthusiasti fact. He even suggested taking Ian on a night tour of the castle to help him get familiar with the yout.

  The more Ian listehe more uneasy he felt.

  Why would a night tour require chocote saud a ge of clothes?

  "I’m only eleven! Doesn’t Hogwarts have underage prote ws?" Ian thought as he quickly excused himself, thanking the older student before making a swift escape towards the Owlery.

  The Owlery erched at the top of the West Tower, requiring students to climb a long, winding spiral staircase to reach it. The circur stone chamber had an a, almost solemhough the floor was littered with straw, owl droppings, and the occasional rodent bone—remnants of previous meals.

  Hundreds of owls of various breeds perched in the rafters, their keen eyes watg every movement below.

  Ian approached a small, white-faced owl and carefully offered it his letter.

  "Please deliver this to Wool’s Orphanage," He said, holding out a handful of slightly stale freeze-dried food as a reward.

  The owl hooted but ighe . Ian wasn’t surprised—it had bee as a treat, but he’d tasted it himself st week and wasn’t particurly fond of it either.

  Just as he was about to leave, something caught his attention. In the er of the room, a small mouse trembled amid the straw. A few owls had gathered around it, their heads tilting curiously, but none had yet decided to make it a meal.

  "Poor little thing."

  On a whim, Ian drew his wand.

  "Vera Verto."

  Magic stirred in the air as strands of straw shimmered and transformed into a pale yellowish-e gas. It drifted forward, silent as a whisper, seeping into the shivering mouse’s nostrils. The tiny creature remained unaware.

  And then—

  "Vera Verto."

  A sed transformation. The e between Ian and his transfigured creation pulsed as the magic took hold. In an instant, tless razor-sharp steel needles erupted from the mouse’s body.

  Its skin split apart.

  Blood sprayed in fine crimson arcs.

  The mouse never had the ce to scream. The gathered owls let out startled hoots, fpping their wings in arm as they hastily retreated from the now-bristling corpse.

  Ian watched the result of his experiment with a flicker of fasation.

  "There’s still room for improvement," He mused. "I’ll call this the Prince Kedavra Curse."

  His pulse quied. Inspiration struck like a bolt of lightning— born from Professonagall’s lesson and refined by his own curiosity. Her warnings had been correct: caution aramount.

  And now, as he explored new avenues of magical attack, he had taken her words to heart.

  He had, after all, ehat there would be no survivors.

  "Having a proper professuidance is invaluable," Ian thought, tug his wand away as he turo leave the Owlery.

  (End of Chapter)