"So, Transfiguration doesn't create life. As the magic fades—oh, fine, as the spell wears off—the transformed object gradually returns to its original form."
"And those living creatures that have been transfigured usually don't lose their lives either. Once the magic fades, they return to their original shape, and all added effects are repelled by the magic…"
…
Professor McGonagall's explanation was simply too brilliant. Andrew, who had just exchanged another sixty Galleons at Gringotts, could only follow mechanically, trying hard to remember every word. He practically ignored Diagon Alley, this small magical world crafted entirely from spells.
Professor McGonagall must be one of the top Transfiguration experts in the entire magical world. He'd bet there weren't many who could so effortlessly make sense of and explain such abstract and complex thoughts.
Diagon Alley was somewhere he could always return to later, but the chance to ask questions and get focused answers like this? Who knew when that might come again—how often would a Deputy Headmistress take the time to personally answer a new student's every question?
If it hadn't been during admission season, the idea would've been laughable.
Too bad I've never read any actual magical Transfiguration theory… Let alone have my own questions or insights…
Luckily, back when I mistook magical power for telekinesis, I did some theoretical speculation—otherwise this would be an embarrassingly wasted opportunity.
That's what he thought—and that's what he did.
"You say you can feel magical power—and that it's increasing?"
After hearing Andrew's question, Professor McGonagall took a moment to rephrase her answer. "According to current magical theory, that's called the Magical Surge Period. After a young wizard's magic first manifests, there's a period of rapid magical growth, during which magical incidents become increasingly frequent."
"As for control, that's not unusual. Some traditional wizarding families even begin teaching their children dangerous magical techniques right after their first surge. But such practices before the age of eleven are quite risky. Personally, I don't recommend this, though there are families whose children master spells more destructive than what some Hogwarts students ever manage to learn before graduating."
"And wandless magic—also normal. But usually the power is insufficient. A wand helps a wizard channel their magic with greater precision and finesse. At first, due to lack of skill and attunement, wand use might not seem more effective than raw magic, but as time goes on, the wand's advantages become very clear."
"So the wand is like a new weapon—at first, you might even hurt yourself using it," Andrew nodded, interpreting in his own way, "but the more skilled you get, the more powerful it becomes, far more than fighting barehanded?"
"A wand is not a weapon, Taylor," McGonagall shook her head. "It's a wizard's best friend. You must learn to feel your wand's emotions. Only then can you truly work with it—not just treat it like a tool."
That's very magical. At least in terms of Transfiguration, I need to adapt to magic, not try to impose my current thinking on it.
Andrew reminded himself—though he wasn't sure how long he could keep that up, he would try.
"I'll remember that, Professor," he promised sincerely. Then, he immediately asked a new question. "When casting with a wand, is the maximum power of a single spell increased through training or by having more magic power? And is there a way to increase one's magical reserves?"
"A very good question—but first, we need to buy your textbooks."
That answer caught Andrew off guard. Then he noticed they'd turned down a small alley. In front of a sun-starved little shop, a crooked banner dangled. Several letters seemed to be napping against one another, making it barely possible to make out the words used books purchased—the last word was half-asleep.
Given the location, the shop probably sold used books too.
Of course, it was only used books. While second-hand textbooks could be surprisingly profitable, a shop like this wouldn't occupy prime real estate. And due to their long shelf life and high volume of stock, used bookstores typically don't rent expensive storefronts.
After a brief discussion about pricing, Andrew used his willingness to buy several foundational magical theory books recommended by McGonagall to bargain for slightly cheaper rates on the required textbooks and some relatively clean general titles.
Though all of these could technically be borrowed from the school library, term hadn't started yet—and laying a solid foundation before school began was well worth the expense.
That said, his funds were running dangerously low. Even used, the more technical books still carried hefty price tags.
Next came robes, scales, basic potion ingredients, a brass telescope, glass jars, and other miscellaneous items.
Andrew's questions hardly stopped. Every now and then, after a bit of reflection, a follow-up would pop up. But none of his inquiries stumped Professor McGonagall.
Unbelievable…Andrew couldn't help admiring her as he mentally analyzed her responses.
"That's enough questions for now."
Just as Andrew was about to ask another, McGonagall halted him. "Earlier, I told you that hair growth is the simplest form of Transfiguration on a wizard's body. So, tell me—what fields might that be extended into?"
"Hair volume, hairstyle, color, strength, and texture," Andrew answered, then quickly added, "If extended to other areas, maybe ropes, animal fur, plant foliage… even camouflage?"
"Fairly thorough. Though you made a few clear errors, that's because I haven't explained certain things yet. It's an easy mistake."
"So then, what did I tell you about beginner Transfiguration?"
"The most basic Transfigurations usually involve altering non-living objects in small ways—like turning a stick into a needle."
"And?"
"You have to pay attention to the incantation, the gestures, the wand movement, and, most importantly, unwavering intent."
"More or less correct."
After a few more questions, Andrew realized McGonagall had stopped again. He blinked, then noticed they were standing in front of a small, rundown shop.
The peeling gold letters on the worn sign didn't match the store's shabby exterior—but the text was anything but ordinary:
"Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C."
"A wand?"
Andrew paused for a moment, then realized what was so special about the sign.
"Yes, a wand," McGonagall said with a slight smile and a nod. "Now, it's time for your most important purchase—go find your partner."