"Pendergast, Arthur," McGonagall called out.
Arthur walked to the stool with measured, quiet steps. He sat down and felt the heavy, dusty fabric drop over his eyes, plunging his world into darkness.
'Hmm,' a small, dry voice whispered inside his mind. 'Interesting. Very interesting. You're an unusual one, aren't you? ' it said.
'Most people search for the magic in things, but not you—you're more interested in figuring out what makes them tick, in understanding the hidden mechanisms that drive them.'
Arthur froze, his mind automatically putting up its defenses. He was startled to think that this magical hat was somehow getting into his memories. But it seemed like it couldn't get to the really important, secret stuff that he kept hidden deep down.
'What is this interface?' Arthur thought. 'It might help me become strong, but is it an ally or something dangerous?' lost in his thoughts.
'You are impressive,' the voice whispered, brought him back to his senses, sounding impressed. 'I see the work. Oh, the tireless, disciplined work. You do not wait for inspiration; you hunt it. You do not ask for power; you build it, repetition by repetition.'
Arthur's mind wandered as he thought to himself, 'I just seek truth.'
A low, gentle laugh whispered through his mind. 'Yes... it's not about the power or the treasure. It's just about understanding. Alright, let's put that curious mind to good use, where it can really grow and learn.'
"RAVENCLAW!"
Arthur stood up, handed the hat back to a slightly surprised McGonagall, and walked toward the table draped in blue and bronze.
He sat among his new housemates, who watched the ceremony with a detached, analytical interest that felt familiar.
...
The climb to Ravenclaw Tower was a vertical labyrinth. The staircases twisted and shifted with a mind of their own, but Arthur mapped every rotation, committing the paths to memory.
At the summit stood a door of aged, polished wood. No handle. No keyhole. Only a bronze eagle with unblinking eyes.
As they approached, its beak clicked open:"What has a heart that doesn't beat?"
The prefect turned to the group. "We don't use passwords. We use riddles. Any ideas?"
Arthur walked into the torchlight and said, "An artichoke."
The eagle's head moved up and down, slowly, like a machine. Then, the door creaked open, swinging wide.
The common room was like a big circle of blue silk and twinkling stars. There were shelves all around the walls, packed with thousands of books, that went all the way up to the ceiling, which was shaped like a dome. On top of the dome, a statue of Rowena Ravenclaw was carved out of marble, watching over everything.
Meanwhile, the others were busy checking out their dorms, but Arthur headed straight for the nearest shelf, eager to start exploring.
He hadn't even cracked open a book yet; he just stood there, taking in the smell of old parchment and fresh ink. Then, he settled into a big, high-backed chair by the fireplace, pulled out his notebook, and started writing.
There were no emotions, no thoughts, just a simple list of things he needed to do and a schedule for the week.
The air in the room was thick with a calm, intellectual vibe. Arthur's eyes lifted, and a faint, chilly grin spread across his face.
He spoke softly to himself, his voice barely audible, "Tomorrow, the real work starts."
...
Monday morning in the Transfiguration classroom was quiet—at least, it was until the bell rang.
Arthur had arrived exactly four minutes early. According to the schedule, the First-Year Ravenclaws had been paired with the Gryffindors for this introductory lecture.
He picked a seat in the front row and made sure his papers were lined up just right with the edge of the desk. His pen was resting at a perfect angle, too.
On the teacher's desk, a grey and white cat was just sitting there, not moving. For a second, Arthur's eyes did something weird - they flashed with a faint blue light. It was like his 'Interface' was picking up on some kind of energy in the room.
Arthur just sat there, book in hand, and waited quietly, without making any move to touch or pet it.
Next to him, Hermione Granger was deeply engrossed in her notes, having already flipped through three pages. Her breathing was quick and shallow, a clear sign that she had committed the textbook to memory, yet still harbored a deep-seated fear of being caught off guard by a surprise quiz. Every so often, her gaze would dart towards Arthur, her eyes narrowing slightly as she struggled to comprehend his complete lack of movement. He didn't even bother to tap his foot, exuding an air of calmness that was nothing short of unnerving. He simply existed, radiating an unshakeable composure that seemed almost surreal.
The door swung open just two minutes after the bell rang, and in rushed Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, their faces red and their robes all messy.
"We did it, that was a close one!" Ron exclaimed, collapsing against the desk in relief.
"Can you imagine the look on old McGonagall's face if we were late?"
Arthur didn't move his head, but he picked up on the slight change in the atmosphere of the room. Then, in a swift and smooth motion, the tabby cat jumped off the desk. As it was in mid-air, it started to change - its paws turned into boots and its fur transformed into beautiful green robes. By the time it landed on the floor, Professor McGonagall was standing there, looking like she wasn't surprised at all.
The whole class gasped in surprise, but Harry and Ron just stood there, frozen in shock, like they had been turned to stone.
"That was bloody brilliant," Ron whispered, his voice cracking.
"Thank you for that assessment, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said, her voice like a cold blade. "Perhaps it would be more useful if I were to transfigure Mr. Potter or yourself into a pocket watch? That way, one of you might actually be on time."
"We got lost," Harry muttered.
"Then perhaps a map?" McGonagall suggested, pointing toward their seats. "Sit down."
Hermione let out a deep sigh, clearly unimpressed. Meanwhile, Arthur was more interested in what had just happened, and he jotted down some notes in his book, labeling it as an "Instantaneous Molecular Shift." He seemed pretty fascinated by the whole thing, whereas Hermione just looked like she was disappointed in the two boys for scrambling to the back so quickly.
"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," McGonagall warned. She gave them each a wooden match. "Your task is to turn this into a silver needle. Begin."
The room suddenly erupted into a frenzy of hushed voices and wild gestures, with wands flashing everywhere.
"Acus!" Ron shouted, poking his wand forward with so much force that he almost hurt himself. But instead of turning his match into a needle like he wanted, it started to change in a really weird way. The match grew four tiny legs that were covered in hair, and it began to move on its own, scuttling across the desk like a little creature.
Harry's match had changed a lot - it now had a thick, fluffy coat of bright orange ginger fur, and it was shaking all over like it was getting ready to let out a huge sneeze.
Hermione was bent over her desk, her face slowly turning pink. She was trying to cast a spell, but it just wasn't working. "Acus... Acus... ACUS!" she said, flicking her wand with a sharp motion. Her match started to change, getting a bit pointier on one end, but it still looked like a regular old match. Hermione let out a frustrated breath, her hair getting a bit messy as she wiped the sweat from her forehead. She was clearly getting annoyed that her spell wasn't working right.
"Easy, Granger," Arthur whispered, his calm tone a stark contrast to the warmth emanating from her. "You're tensing up - it's putting unnecessary strain on your wrist."
Hermione's head jerked towards him, her eyes blazing with a frantic intensity. "I'm not just standing here doing nothing, I'm practicing!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with frustration. "And what about you, are you just going to stand there waiting for the situation to somehow magically resolve itself?"
Arthur just stared at the match, his eyes fixed on it. To him, the wood wasn't just a simple piece of wood - it was a bunch of tiny carbon particles all connected together. He wasn't trying to make the wood do something it didn't want to do, he was just changing the way it was right now. It's like he was rewriting the wood's story, changing the way it existed in that moment.
He lifted his wand, no fancy moves, no urgent spells, just one calm tap.
"Acus."
In a silent, seamless transition, the wood turned a brilliant, polished silver. The blunt end rounded into a perfect eyelet, while the tip sharpened into a point so fine it glinted under the floating candles.
Arthur lowered his wand.
[ Magic: Beginner -06%
• Transfiguration: Beginner — 14.5%]
Professor McGonagall walked up and down the rows, looking really disappointed. She passed by Ron's project, which he called a "walking match", and Harry's, which was a "furry stick". When she got to the front, she stopped. Her face still looked stern, like she was not happy with what she saw.
She stopped at Arthur's desk. She picked up the needle, turning it over in her fingers.
"Fantastic," she exclaimed, her voice rising above the din. "You nailed it on the very first try - the transformation was flawless, with no hint of wood remaining in the grain. I've got to give you full marks for that, Ravenclaw earns ten points."
The room fell quiet, like a blanket had been thrown over everyone. Hermione's face turned bright red, as if someone had just splashed her with cold water. She stared at Arthur's perfect needle, her eyes wide with surprise, then looked at her own match, which was only half made of wood. She couldn't help but compare the two, and her eyes kept going back to Arthur's face, which was as calm as can be, like he was just taking a sip of water on a hot summer day.
He didn't seem bothered at all, which made Hermione look even more shocked.
She was furious, her voice barely above a whisper as she leaned in close, her wild hair brushing against his ear. "How did you do it?" she demanded. "I've studied that spell inside and out, I've read the book three times, I know every detail. My wand was at exactly the right angle, 32 degrees, just like it's supposed to be. But you, you just stood there, your wrist didn't even flick, it was like you weren't even trying. What's your secret?"
"I didn't just try, I actually calculated it," Arthur said, looking straight at her.
"You... you calculated?!" Hermione looked like she was about to explode. " Magic isn't a math problem, Arthur! It's a feeling! It's an intent!"
"Emotions are all over the place," Arthur said, looking up from his book for a moment. "But reason, that's something you can count on, it's always steady."
Hermione made this weird noise - it was like she was crying and growling at the same time. Then she started waving her wand really, really fast, it was like a blur. By the time the lesson was over, she had finally managed to turn her match silver, but it still had this wooden thing on it. McGonagall was pretty impressed, she gave Hermione five points, but Hermione just didn't seem happy about it, she looked really upset. Maybe it was because she wasn't perfect, or maybe it was something else, but whatever it was, it was clear that Hermione was not satisfied with what she had achieved.
As they were packing up, Ron turned to Harry and whispered, "Hey, did you notice that Pendergast kid? He didn't even look like he was trying, I'm serious, I think the guy's a puppet or something."
Hermione slammed her book shut, and her hair exploded into a huge, frizzy mess that framed her frustrated face. "He's not a puppet, Ron!" she exclaimed. "He's just really, really good at thinking things through, and it's so annoying!"
Arthur strolled by, his bag sitting comfortably on his shoulder, and he gave a quick, friendly nod before disappearing into the hallway.
"Tomorrow's class is Potions," he thought quietly, "I'm curious, does Professor Snape value a well-organized formula, or is that just not his style?"