Andrew's schedule was absolutely packed today.
In theory, after Potions class, he was supposed to find an empty classroom to practice the newly-understood Transfiguration technique for complex objects. Then, after lunch, he would think about his paper and prepare for a small group meeting in the afternoon.
Even the evening wasn't free — first-year Astronomy class was scheduled for tonight. Though the return trip to the common room would be short, there still wouldn't be much time left to use.
But instead, he found a quiet spot and sat down, scribbling chaotically in his notebook with a pencil — today's Potions class had impacted him more than Transfiguration ever did.
Of course, it wasn't Professor Snape who left the impression, but Potions itself.
Though he had no background in chemical engineering, he still noticed how absurd and extraordinary Potions was — a discipline where precision and magic were tightly interwoven.
No, no, not like that. That's not it…
Andrew quickly denied his own thoughts. I'm just using magic as a way to cover up what I don't understand…
But even so… that doesn't make it wrong…
He wrote and scratched out several words in his notebook, repeating the process until finally, he pinpointed what had struck him so deeply.
With a trace of excitement, Andrew wrote down this line:
"As far as I currently understand, the essence of potion-making is the extraction of magical properties from ingredients within the cauldron, resulting in reactive intermediates under specific conditions."
It was far from precise, but this was the best summary Andrew could come up with at the moment.
Then, he added the thought that truly struck him:
"And from my perspective, the essence of Transfiguration lies in transforming an object under the influence of magic into an intermediate state — something neither its original form nor its final shape. So, could Transfiguration be used to encapsulate the extracted magical properties? Could this intermediate state even replace the potion-making process itself?"
…
Did I write that?Andrew looked at those two sentences, then pointed at himself in disbelief, his expression comical — like someone finding a childhood diary full of wild dreams. Was this really something I should be pondering?
There were countless Potions Masters in the wizarding world, and Transfiguration experts were even more common. If such an idea had any merit, wouldn't someone have already developed it? Was it really the job of a total newcomer, barely three days into the magical world?
But… what if?
After some hesitation, Andrew decided to erase this bold ambition with a chuckle. But after one last glance at the notebook, he just couldn't bring himself to destroy such an outrageous idea.
"Enough of that," he muttered. "Let's just practice Transfiguration properly for now. If Potions doesn't work out, I'll just throw money at it…"
He shook his head helplessly — even with Potions, practice makes perfect.
The only problem was the cost. While first-years were given a standard set of ingredients upon admission, most were just auxiliary materials. Every brewing session in class used ingredients provided by the school.
Which meant that for private practice, he'd need to purchase everything himself. And even if he successfully brewed a potion, there was no way to recoup the cost.
And that was just the beginning. To truly master Potions, he'd eventually need to buy large quantities of raw materials to analyze which magical properties were being used during brewing — a process where not a single Galleon could be spared.
Oof…
Andrew gritted his teeth and made the decision. If necessary, he'd let… no, Gryffindor suffer for it — let the editorial department take the fall for the bad reputation!
With his near-suicidal financial plan in place, Andrew stuffed the notebook into his backpack and headed out of the castle. Seizing the lunch break, he decided to test a new idea for Transfiguration.
About ten minutes later, he found a piece of rope that fit his requirements and began with step one of the experiment: tying knots.
I still can't transform simple objects into complex ones. So instead, I'll try the reverse — use something that looks complex but is structurally simple for a basic transformation. Then destroy it to reverse-engineer the principle.
Unfortunately, he couldn't remember any advanced knots. After tying a few simple ones, Andrew couldn't wait any longer. He transformed the rope into a wooden stick and — without hesitation — balanced it on the edge of a podium and stomped on it.
He heard a crisp snap, but disappointingly, as the object was destroyed, it reverted to a soft rope and fell to the ground. The rope itself remained completely intact.
No different from previous attempts… but what if I try this…
Andrew cast the spell again, this time applying ink to the stick. When he broke it, a thin flake of dried ink fell off.
Interesting…
He dyed the rope directly with ink this time.
The transformed wooden stick appeared normal. After reverting it back to rope, the ink was still there.
No change… same as before. Even the ink marks on the knots were in the same spot…
Then what if I divide the rope by knot and make a stick from two different materials?
He increased the difficulty, but the result was underwhelming — the transformed stick looked like an unprocessed tree branch.
Expected…
"Then… the final step. Use a stick to transform into a knotted rope…"
Andrew tapped an old broken broomstick with his wand.
A very strange rope appeared — with a knot that couldn't be undone, even with magical assistance. It was as if the knot had existed since the rope was first woven.
But a smile spread across Andrew's face. It wasn't a total success, but it was progress — his hypothesis and direction for practice were correct.
That was a perfect test. I can start drafting my first paper… if everything goes well.
He tucked the battered broomstick back where it came from, then happily used a levitation charm to unravel the rope and let it coil neatly into his backpack.
Something feels off… It's not the room, not the classmates, not the environment… it's me… my own senses… Whatever, can't figure it out now.
He thought about it, but came up with nothing — then left the empty classroom in high spirits and hurried toward the dining hall.
This afternoon, he'd have to face a group whose values didn't exactly align with his own — and he'd have to act friendly to blend in. Just thinking about that exhausting situation made him determined not to skimp on his meal.
T/N: For up to 20 chapters ahead on all my translations, become a p@tron at [email protected]/LordHipposApostle
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