Chapter 20: A Professor's Invitation
Professor McGonagall led Warren to her office.
It was situated on the second floor, with a window overlooking the Quidditch pitch. It was a small perk of being Deputy Headmistress, one that suited her passion for the sport.
Once inside, Professor McGonagall seemed to shed some of her usual severity. She even offered Warren a biscuit before asking, "Mr. Weasley, I could not speak at length during class. You have been practicing Transfiguration at home, have you not?"
"Yes, Professor. I was using my brothers' old textbooks."
I believe I have emphasized to your brothers just how dangerous it can be." Professor McGonagall pursed her lips.
Warren nodded. "That is why I restricted myself to inanimate Transfiguration, Professor. I started with small objects, just as Percy noted in the textbook. I tackled simple changes first, then moved on to the complex ones. Here are some of my notes."
He withdrew his heavily annotated copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration and presented it to her.
Professor McGonagall leafed through it. "A new book? You reviewed it again before the start of term?"
"Yes, Professor."
Professor McGonagall fell silent, studying the notes intently. After a long moment, she closed the book with a faint, pleased smile. "I see, Mr. Weasley. You have prepared thoroughly. Your records of each attempt are very detailed."
She did not voice her surprise aloud, but she sighed inwardly.
Initially, she had thought Warren was merely dabbling, or perhaps that his brothers had helped him lay a basic foundation.
But after reading his notes, she realized his grasp of Transfiguration was actually quite advanced. The proof was on the last page of the textbook.
Today, I successfully transformed Milo's treat into a mouse. For a moment, I thought I had created life, but clearly, I did not. The mouse's behavior was dictated entirely by my own intent. It was merely a puppet shaped like a mouse, lacking the true vitality of a living creature. I do not yet possess the knowledge to resolve this. How is this addressed in advanced Transfiguration?
Spells require corresponding emotions. Is Transfiguration any different? When changing an inanimate object into a living thing, or transforming between life forms, perhaps the key lies in the target's thoughts and emotions, or even its memories.
She had to admit that the passage had unsettled her.
It was not because of Warren's progress in Transfiguration, but rather his theorizing about the nature of the subject itself.
With such talent, why did he have to be in Slytherin?
After a moment's hesitation, Professor McGonagall finally spoke, her voice a little dry. She had built her life on fairness and impartiality. "Mr. Weasley, as you know, not all students learn at the same pace. Some are more... gifted."
She disliked categorizing students, but it was simply a fact of life.
"Headmaster Dumbledore encourages professors to form clubs for students who advance quickly, providing them with more targeted instruction."
"Mr. Weasley, would you be interested in joining my Transfiguration Club?"
Her cheeks warmed slightly. She felt as though she were poaching.
Still, she watched Warren with anticipation.
Professors had the right to extend an invitation, just as the student had the right to refuse.
Beneath her eager gaze, Warren smiled.
"I would be honored, Professor McGonagall."
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"So, you joined the Transfiguration Club?"
Hermione exclaimed in surprise from the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.
"Of course. Professor McGonagall said my level is high enough. Regular classes won't teach me much more. The other members are at least fourth years. That is where I can really learn, instead of wasting time in class."
Warren filled out the club application form as he ate.
Hermione stared at the form, her eyes practically glowing with intensity. She hesitated, then asked, "If... I mean, if I could transform a match into a needle perfectly, just like you did today, would I stand a chance?"
"Not necessarily," Warren replied after a moment's thought. "But you could ask Professor McGonagall and see."
The instant the words left his mouth, Hermione snatched two pieces of bread and raced off toward the library like a whirlwind.
She had found a new motivation.
Harry and Ron, eavesdropping nearby, exchanged glances. They were already revealing their true colors as academic slackers.
To them, everything at Hogwarts was fresh and exciting.
Studying? Why waste time on that when you could be exploring?
They couldn't truly understand Hermione's envy and ambition.
Nor could they see why Warren joining a club and taking extra classes was anything to be happy about.
Ron, however, was particularly bothered by the silver and green snake badge pinned to Warren's chest.
Seeing Warren still sitting at the Gryffindor table and even stealing a piece of roast beef from his plate, he finally couldn't hold back. "Why don't you go sit at the Slytherin table? Why do you have to steal our food? Is it because you think Harry is an easy target?"
Harry looked confused.
He didn't understand the Weasleys.
Warren said nothing. He slowly finished his roast beef, then pulled a small pouch from his schoolbag and opened it.
Inside was a brand-new, complete wand maintenance kit.
Ron's eyes went wide. Harry could practically hear him swallow.
This ploy was all too familiar.
Ron's face flushed crimson. He was torn between desire and indignation. He wanted to snatch the bag and hurl it into Warren's smug, annoying face.
But years of holding back, combined with the kit's exorbitant price, robbed him of the courage.
From past experience, Warren, that devil, would exploit that desire to tempt him into submission.
He decided then and there that he would not yield. He was a Gryffindor standing firm against a Slytherin.
Then he felt a hand ruffle his hair.
"Take it, Ron. You have Charms this afternoon. You'll need it. Study hard. No more goofing off."
By the time Ron looked up, Warren was already walking away. Only the open bag remained on the seat.
As his brother's figure vanished around the corner, Harry noticed Ron's eyes were red. His usually easygoing friend sniffled, tears streaming down his face. He reached for the maintenance kit and hugged it tight against his chest.
Sniffling, he asked, "Harry, not all Slytherins are bad, are they?"
It dawned on Harry. Ron had been terrified the entire time that his brother might change. He simply hadn't known how to say it.
He gave Ron's shoulder a gentle pat and nodded firmly. "No."
As he walked back toward the Slytherin common room, Warren hummed a cheerful tune.
Who said he only had one trick?
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