After finishing Charms class, the trio immediately exited the room, joining the stream of students filling the Hogwarts corridors.
The sound of their footsteps echoed softly against the stone floors, while the atmosphere gradually grew quieter as students headed toward their respective classes.
Michael pulled out his schedule, glancing at it briefly before speaking. "Alright, the next and final lesson for this morning is Transfiguration."
He paused for a moment, then added in a slightly different tone, "And we'll be sharing the class with Slytherin."
Terry immediately frowned. "Slytherin?" he repeated quietly.
Michael nodded. "Seems so."
Terry let out a long sigh. "Great... the strictest class, joined by the most 'friendly' house," he muttered with heavy sarcasm.
Michael offered a thin smile. "Just think of it as extra training."
Kenzo, walking calmly beside them, remained unfazed. "As long as we focus on the lesson, there's nothing to worry about," he said succinctly.
Michael nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."
Folding his schedule back up, Michael added, "Well then, let's see how this class goes."
The three of them continued their way through the corridors toward the Transfiguration classroom a place where not only magical ability would be tested, but also composure and self-control under pressure.
They eventually arrived at the classroom door, joining the Ravenclaws and Slytherins already waiting. Some students bowed their heads in a show of respect, while others looked intimidated especially those from the Malfoy family and the followers of Death Eaters who had inherited their families' influence.
However, not everyone shared that sentiment. Among them, neutral families like the Greengrasses stood calm. Daphne stood there, looking at Kenzo as if evaluating him—without fear, without avoidance, and without any exaggerated posturing.
Their eyes met for several seconds in silence. No unnecessary movements.
Daphne stared at him coldly. Yet, there was something... unusual when her gaze met Kenzo's.
Kenzo returned the look with an expression of indifference, though he didn't look away either.
A few seconds passed in stillness.
Then, a very faint, almost invisible smile tugged at the corner of Daphne's lips. "Interesting..." she thought privately.
It was as if time had stopped between them for a heartbeat. But the moment didn't last long.
Daphne was the first to break eye contact. Not because she was pressured. Not because she hesitated.
Rather, because it was enough. She returned to her original posture.
Calm.
Cold.
As if the interaction... had never meant anything more.
The atmosphere in front of the classroom returned to normal. Quiet whispers traveled among the students, but a lingering tension remained in the air.
Michael, standing beside Kenzo, gave him a small nudge with his arm. "She's... strange," he whispered softly.
Kenzo merely shrugged his shoulders lightly, as if it weren't worth thinking about.
Terry stole a quick glance toward the Slytherins and immediately looked away, pretending not to care.
The sound of footsteps approached from inside. The Transfiguration classroom door swung open slowly.
A woman with a rigid posture and a sharp gaze stood in the doorway.
Professor McGonagall.
Her eyes swept over the waiting students with a calm, sharp, and evaluative look that needed no words. "Enter."
One word.
Firm. Clear. Leaving no room for delay.
The students moved instantly. No pushing.
No excessive noise. Discipline formed naturally under her presence.
Kenzo stepped inside calmly, followed by Michael and Terry. From the other side, the Slytherin students began to enter as well.
Daphne walked among them. Her steps were light.
Measured.
Cold as always.
The Transfiguration room was filled with neatly arranged wooden desks. On each desk, a single matchstick had been prepared.
Several students looked slightly confused.
Terry stared at the object on his desk, his brow furrowing. "...A matchstick?" he muttered quietly.
Michael smiled slightly. "Basic Transfiguration practice."
Kenzo sat down quietly. His eyes briefly scanned the matchstick in front of him. It looked ordinary. But it was enough to be the start of something far more complex.
Professor McGonagall stood at the front of the class. "Now," she said flatly, "turn that matchstick into a silver needle."
The classroom fell into immediate silence. No one dared to speak. Every student began to try.
Michael raised his wand. "Mutatio."
His matchstick changed slightly, the tip sharpening, but it wasn't perfect yet. "Hmm... almost," he murmured.
Terry tried next, looking a bit more tense. "Mutatio!"
Nothing happened. He stared at his matchstick for a few seconds... then sighed. "...Okay. This is harder than it looks."
Meanwhile, Kenzo just stared at the matchstick before him for a few moments.
Without rush.
Without pressure.
Then, he raised his wand. "Mutatio."
There was no flashy light. No loud sound.
In an instant, the matchstick transformed. It became a silver needle.
Perfect. The surface was smooth. The tip was sharp and precise. It was as if, from the very beginning, it had never been a matchstick at all.
Then, the sound of footsteps approached him.
Professor McGonagall stopped beside Kenzo's desk, her gaze falling upon his Transfiguration result.
Silence.
Other students began to take notice.
"...Remarkable precision," she finally said.
Her voice remained flat, but it was clearly no ordinary assessment. She glanced at Kenzo briefly. "For a first-year level... this exceeds expectations."
Several Ravenclaws immediately looked proud. Even Michael and Terry smiled, clearly pleased to see Kenzo's success. Meanwhile, on the other side, some Slytherins began to whisper quietly.
Daphne did not join the chatter. Her eyes were fixed solely on that needle. Observing. Re-evaluating.
Professor McGonagall straightened her posture. "Ten points to Ravenclaw."
The mood in the class shifted slightly. Not boisterous, but enough to make everyone realize: this was no fluke.
Kenzo simply gave a light nod. "Thank you, Professor."
No smile. No excessive pride. As if it were the most natural thing in the world.
In the corner of the room, unseen by anyone, Zetsu—hidden by an illusion—noted something down. "Charms... ten points."
"Transfiguration... another ten points."
He smiled thinly. "Father really isn't holding back."
Daphne didn't look away immediately. A few seconds passed—enough time to observe and understand—before she finally looked back down at her desk. Her gaze fell on the matchstick in front of her, still intact and unchanged.
Her hand rose with a fluid, measured movement, devoid of excess emotion. But this time, her focus felt different. Sharper.
"Mutatio."
There was no flash of light or flashy effect. However, the matchstick began to change slowly and in a controlled manner, forming a silver needle that was more perfect than before—smoother, more stable.
Several Slytherin students fell silent instantly. "...She corrected it," someone whispered softly.
But Daphne wasn't finished. Her eyes narrowed slightly, not out of doubt, but out of assessment. She moved her wand with a movement so small it was almost invisible.
The needle vibrated, then slowly lifted a few centimeters above the desk.
It wasn't as seamless as Kenzo's, nor as perfect. But it was enough to prove one thing: she was capable of reaching it.
Michael glanced quickly in her direction. "...She can do it too."
Terry swallowed hard. "This... this isn't our level anymore."
Kenzo caught a glimpse of Daphne's desk. He saw the floating silver needle—an extraordinary achievement for the first day. While other students were still struggling with wood fibers, the two of them were already playing with gravity and molecular structures.
However, Kenzo showed no surprise. He merely noted how Daphne's needle vibrated slightly—a sign that there was a bit of force in her magical flow.
Professor McGonagall walked past Daphne's desk, stopped for a moment, and gave a stiff nod—the highest form of praise for a Slytherin. "Five points to Slytherin, Miss Greengrass. Impressive control."
Daphne didn't turn her head, yet the corner of her eye remained locked on Kenzo, as if waiting for a reaction.
The castle bell finally tolled, signaling the end of the morning session. The tense atmosphere in the classroom melted away as students began packing their equipment.
Michael and Terry were busy talking about how lucky they were to have Kenzo in Ravenclaw, while the Slytherins exited with their usual arrogant strides.
Kenzo packed his bag with calm, systematic movements. As he turned to leave, his path crossed with Daphne, who had also just stood up.
Kenzo's pace didn't slow, but as they drew level, he murmured in a low voice intended only for her sharp ears.
"You altered the structure well, Greengrass,"
Kenzo said without looking at her, his voice as cold as the autumn wind in the corridors. "But you are still forcing your intent too much upon the silver core. Silver is a passive, cold metal; do not try to warm it with your ambition. Let it flow on its own."
Daphne flinched slightly, her step faltering for a second. She turned, but Kenzo had already walked past her toward the exit, rejoined by Michael and Terry waiting for him at the front.
Daphne unconsciously touched her silver needle, still lying on the desk. The needle felt warm to her fingertips—proof of an overly eager intent, exactly as Kenzo had described.
"Otsutsuki..." she whispered softly, her eyes narrowing as she watched the straight back of the boy disappear into the crowded corridor.
In the distance, the still-invisible Zetsu chuckled softly from behind the shadows of a stone pillar. "Father certainly knows how to set the bait," he muttered, continuing to write in his small notebook. "One Slytherin... is starting to bite."
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Don't forget to read my Indonesian novel because the writing there is quite neat compared to English and the real reason I'm lazy to tidy up my English novel
Eid Mubarak everyone 🙏.