"Transfiguration is an advanced and dangerous branch of magic," Professor McGonagall declared sternly. Her sharp eyes swept the rows of desks like twin searchlights. "At the same time, it is one of the most useful spells you will ever learn. You must approach it with seriousness and discipline. If anyone dares to disrupt my class, I will throw them out—regardless of which House they belong to."
Silence.
Every student sat bolt upright, backs stiff, wands clutched nervously. Only when she was satisfied with their obedience did McGonagall finally give them what they were waiting for—a demonstration.
---
The Magic of Transfiguration
She tapped her wand on the desk with a crisp knock.
Bang!
The square wooden table shivered, groaned, and in a blink, transformed into a plump white pig, its curly tail wagging as it oinked happily.
Gasps of astonishment swept the room. Several first-years leaned forward, eyes sparkling.
But McGonagall wasn't finished. She raised her wand again, and the pig rippled, stretched, and shifted—until it became a roaring lion, its mane flaring, its voice booming like thunder.
The class shrieked. The lion melted away into coils, its body elongating into a massive python, scales gleaming, fangs bared. The students in the front row yelped and scrambled back, faces pale. Even the Slytherins winced.
After all, just because their House emblem was a snake didn't mean they enjoyed staring one down.
Tom caught the tiniest flicker of amusement in McGonagall's eyes.
"So that's how it is, Professor," he thought dryly. "Thick eyebrows, strict manner… but secretly enjoying scaring children? Sinister."
Another bang!
The snake vanished, the desk returned, and the room slowly settled again.
"This," McGonagall announced, her voice sharp but proud, "is the beauty of Transfiguration. With it, you can alter the very fabric of reality. But transformations of large animals are advanced magic—knowledge reserved for upper years. For now, we begin with the basics."
---
The Toothpick Challenge
McGonagall flicked her wand, and a small object appeared on each desk.
A toothpick.
"Your task today," she explained, "is to transform this into a silver needle. Focus your imagination on the needle's form. Hold the image in your mind clearly—without distraction. You must truly believe that this piece of wood is metal, and force your magic to make your will reality."
She paced between rows as students raised their wands and began chanting, faces scrunched with determination.
The classroom filled with whispered spells, but the toothpicks remained stubbornly toothpicks.
---
Tom's Discovery
Tom lifted his wand lazily. He already knew the spell. He had practiced transforming objects during the summer, and silver needles were old news.
Still, he raised his wand and repeated the incantation.
A faint chime echoed in his head.
[Gained professor's experience in Transfiguration. Credits +5.]
[Gained professor's experience in Transfiguration. Credits +5.]
Tom froze. Then his lips curled.
"Well, well. A new way to earn credits. By absorbing a professor's lesson—even something I already know—I can still gain bonuses."
Ten credits, just like that.
But more than the numbers, the realization thrilled him. Every class might be a goldmine.
---
McGonagall's Quiet Test
Meanwhile, McGonagall glided through the aisles. She wasn't disappointed to see rows of toothpicks unchanged.
Turning wood into metal wasn't simple shape-shifting. It required a fundamental alteration of matter. For brand-new first-years, it was nearly impossible.
But that was the point.
McGonagall had been teaching long enough to know that this exercise was an assessment disguised as a lesson. A few rare students might surprise her. The rest would fail as expected, allowing her to identify where to place her attention in the future.
She checked desk after desk, sighing quietly. Nothing.
Until she reached Tom Riddle.
---
Tom's Success
Tom lifted his wand, traced a circle, and tapped the toothpick.
Before McGonagall's eyes, the wood shimmered, melted, and reformed.
A gleaming silver needle lay on the desk, its surface etched with delicate patterns as though forged by an artisan.
The professor's breath caught.
"Marvelous!" she exclaimed, voice carrying through the classroom. "Mr. Riddle has succeeded on his very first try—and not only succeeded, but produced a needle with decorative detail. Exceptional work. Five points to Slytherin!"
---
Reactions
The Gryffindors shrugged. First-years didn't yet understand the House rivalry. Points meant little to them.
But the Slytherins? They froze. Malfoy, especially, scowled with open contempt.
"How could a mudblood succeed when I couldn't?" his expression screamed.
Tom, however, hadn't cared about House points—until the system chimed again.
[Recognized by professor. Credits +5. Achievement points +1.]
[New long-term quest unlocked: "The Best Student in Hogwarts History."]
[College points = Credits (1:1). Achievement points = House points (5:1). Additional rewards if House wins the Cup.]
Tom blinked. Then he grinned.
---
The System's Twist
He hadn't cared about House pride. But if House points converted directly into credits and achievements? Suddenly, the game had changed.
"If I'd been sorted into Gryffindor," Tom mused, "winning the House Cup every year would have been child's play. Dumbledore practically hands it to them to glorify Potter."
Now, though? If he wanted Slytherin to take the Cup, he'd need to fight uphill. Against Dumbledore's bias. Against Potter's destiny.
His eyes narrowed.
"Fine. If that's what it takes to earn credits, then even Dumbledore becomes my enemy."
The irony wasn't lost on him. Dumbledore believed himself the puppeteer, raising Harry as the chosen savior. He wanted Harry to grow bold, brave, willing to defy Voldemort.
But in Tom's eyes, Voldemort had only two possible endings:
1. Killed by Harry as in the original timeline.
2. Crushed by Tom once he surpassed them both.
Either way, the so-called Dark Lord was finished.
And if Tom's path to power meant hijacking Dumbledore's little savior-training scheme by stealing the House Cup for Slytherin?
So be it.
---
Tom's Burning Ambition
As McGonagall moved on, praising others for effort, Tom sat back in his chair, expression calm. But inside, his ambition burned.
"I want to make progress. More than anything. Credits, achievements, knowledge—every scrap will be mine. Even if it means turning Hogwarts upside down."
He tapped the silver needle on his desk, its etched surface catching the light. A smile curved his lips.
"One toothpick at a time."
---