For the first twenty minutes of class, Professor McGonagall meticulously explained the key points and precautions of basic Transfiguration, even providing a demonstration.
With a flick of her wand, she touched a match, and it instantly transformed into a delicate silver needle. "Your task is to transform your match into a silver needle, as realistically as possible."
A young Gryffindor wizard eagerly began his attempt, but with a resounding "bang," his match exploded, leaving him covered in soot.
"Seamus!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed, striding over to deliver a lengthy lecture before handing him a fresh match.
Tom and Professor McGonagall circulated the classroom, answering questions, but she soon noticed a rather glaring disparity.
Because Cassandra was Tom's personally accepted student, he taught her with infinite patience, meticulously explaining each step, demonstrating in slow motion, and even sharing tricks he had discovered himself.
In contrast, Tom's teaching method for the other students involved little more than pointing and shouting, "Transform! Can't you even manage that? Are you part troll?"
Professor McGonagall sighed, covering her face in exasperation. Well, at least Cassandra's progress is assured. As for the rest, she would deal with it herself.
Professor McGonagall wasn't the only one who noticed Tom's… differential treatment.
"Hey, why isn't the Master teaching us?"
"I don't know, but the Master must have his reasons."
Harry and Malfoy began to imagine Tom's hidden intentions.
"Hmm… as second-in-command of the Death Eaters, the Master must want me to perform exceptionally well, attracting others to our cause. If someone corrects my mistakes, that simply won't do," Harry muttered, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
Malfoy bristled. "Huh? Aren't I second in command?"
"You think you can take my place? What reputation do you have? None whatsoever! I have a bounty of a thousand Galleons on my head! What about you?"
"Damn it, I'm going to rob Ollivander when the holidays come!" Speechless in the face of Harry's words, Malfoy could only hope that his bounty for robbing Ollivander wouldn't be lower than Harry's.
...
Meanwhile, in his shop, old Ollivander, who was sprinkling ashes on a newly made wand to give it a vintage feel, suddenly sneezed. Just scaring myself, he thought with paranoia.
...
Back in Transfiguration class.
With a simultaneous "bang," Harry and Malfoy slammed their fists on their desks and stood. "Everyone! Look at us!"
Every student turned to stare.
Professor McGonagall frowned. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, what do you think you are doing?"
But Harry and Malfoy didn't respond.
Tom looked up at the two boys. What are they up to?
However, Harry and Malfoy interpreted his questioning gaze as encouragement: Are you sure you're confident?
Of course, they were! This simple, basic transfiguration was child's play for these two inexperienced Death Eaters. They were incredibly skilled.
Wands at the ready, they pointed them at the matches in front of them, following the instructions they had just received.
With a few quick movements, Harry's match turned into a silver match, and Malfoy's into a wooden needle.
"…"
They exchanged embarrassed glances. They had been too hasty; they hadn't expected their plan to go awry so quickly.
"Two idiots," Cassandra muttered under her breath, turning back to her own practice.
With Tom's careful guidance, she made no mistakes, easily transforming her match into a delicate silver needle.
Pleased, Cassandra looked up at Tom, only to find him still watching the two idiots.
Displeased, Cassandra frowned and coughed lightly. "Ahem…"
Tom looked down at his apprentice.
"…"
Cassandra's face flushed, and she crossed her arms, turning her head away, pretending not to see Tom.
He then noticed the delicate silver needle.
A slight smile played on his lips as he picked it up, speaking calmly and earnestly. "Miss Vole has successfully turned a match into a silver needle!"
Tom gestured towards Professor McGonagall, smugness shining in his eyes.
Professor McGonagall's expression grew increasingly sour.
"Hmph…" Cassandra tilted her head slightly, a soft laugh betraying her satisfaction.
Tom put the needle down and reached out to pat Cassandra's head. "Therefore, you've earned ten points for Slytherin."
While Cassandra didn't want Tom to know she was actually quite happy, she continued to feign indifference. She couldn't fool anyone else, but she could fool herself.
She pursed her lips slightly, her fingers nervously gripping her robes, her flushed face giving her away.
"Heh heh… just one success? Look at her acting all high and mighty."
Ron glared at Cassandra from the back row, muttering to himself.
But clearly, he didn't want to fall too far behind. Though his expression remained sour, his hands never stopped moving.
"Um, Ron… your wand's smoking."
"Huh? Holy crap!"
Only Neville's reminder made Ron stop fiddling with his "old" wand.
Unfortunately, even with his wand smoking, he couldn't turn a match into a silver needle.
...
Meanwhile, elsewhere.
In a Hogwarts toilet.
A group of Slytherin students stood facing each other on the foul-smelling floor, preparing to fight.
Hogwarts only had a limited number of toilets, and since they each had to clean one, there clearly weren't enough to go around.
So, they only had two choices: defeat their enemies and seize the toilet, or be defeated and risk being secretly killed by Tom in the Forbidden Forest.
Damn it, which family that gets into Slytherin doesn't have some money? They haven't even inherited the family fortune yet; are they really going to die here?
So, today…
"This toilet must be mine!"
"Stick a mop in your mouth!"
"Upside-down bell!"
A battle was about to erupt!
The Slytherins included both upperclassmen and lowerclassmen, giving the lowerclassmen an initial disadvantage.
One of the freshmen, Shafiq, was struck by a spell, sending him slamming into the wall, his mouth now sporting large buck teeth.
But there's always a way out!
Just as Shafiq was about to despair, he noticed something in the corner.
It was…
Shafik gritted his teeth, forced himself to his feet, walked to the corner, and picked up a mop.
The others noticed Shafiq's actions and realized what he was up to; panic set in.
But when they rushed to stop him, it was too late.
Shafik raised the mop high and swung it around; those nearby could vaguely see dirty water splattering from it.
At that moment, Shafik was unstoppable; no one dared to step into his attack range.
Seeing this, Shafik knew that although it was a bit dishonorable… this toilet was his.