Man of Archives

For an entire week, I recovered from the ritual, noticing several changes. After casting my first spell, I realized I had become stronger. My spells were more powerful, and my magical energy had increased. Along with this, I began experiencing new magical sensations, which I still had to get used to. I developed an innate sense of direction, could tell time almost to the minute, and lost my fear of heights and discomfort with water temperature. Additionally, I gained a heightened awareness of death and danger.

 

I concluded that these abilities came from the mythical creatures whose minds I had visited during the ritual. And, to be honest, I wasn't opposed to it. My sleep was also reduced by two hours, and my physical capabilities had improved, making me a stronger wizard overall. The ritual had proven to be incredibly beneficial and successful so far. Of course, I still couldn't transform into any of these creatures, but I knew my time would come. Meanwhile, ordinary animals had become much more intriguing to me.

 

"How are you feeling, Timothy?" Dumbledore asked when I arrived at his office by invitation.

 

"Much better, thank you," I replied. "The ritual took a toll on me, but I've been recovering all week."

 

"Yes, those rituals do have lingering effects," the headmaster agreed. "I went through something similar in my youth, with the same side effects."

 

"Despite that, I’m grateful to you for sending me to Hagrid," I said, bowing my head slightly in a gesture of thanks—following proper etiquette.

 

"Don’t take it personally," Dumbledore chuckled. "Are you ready for the next step?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Then, can you tell me which animals you plan to transform into?" he asked.

 

"A woodland warbler, a gorilla, and a cleaner fish," I answered, listing three very different creatures.

 

"Oh, wow," Dumbledore stretched. "I see you followed my advice. That's very good. Next, you'll need to study the full anatomy of these birds. I suggest starting with something simpler, like the woodland warbler."

 

"Then I’ll need to visit somewhere like a zoo," I said, stretching in response.

 

"The nearest weekend," the headmaster nodded. "You'll go to the London Royal Zoo. You'll find the necessary animals there."

 

"I understand," I nodded.

 

"Ah, you young people," Dumbledore exhaled. "Everything comes so much easier to you. Back in my day..."

 

He waved his hand dismissively, as if not planning to finish the thought. It was clear that someone like Dumbledore could tell countless stories about his youth, but that wasn’t the time.

 

"What should I do after I’ve studied the anatomy?" I asked.

 

"Come to me," said the headmaster. "I’ll spend a few days monitoring your first self-transfiguration to ensure there are no unexpected complications."

 

"Thank you, headmaster," I said with another nod.

 

"You may be dismissed," he said with a final nod.

 

I left the office and headed straight to the library, where Isolda, Dorsani, and Nymphadora were supposed to be waiting for me. We had agreed to work on a project for ZOTI together. This wasn’t homework but a personal project, since Quirrell had proven himself to be a completely inadequate teacher. He couldn’t speak on any subject himself, merely reading from a book during his lectures. He never wrote notes on the board or gave spatial explanations for where or how a spell could be used.

 

To pass the OWLs in his subject, I suggested we take up self-study. My friends immediately agreed, and we formed a small study group. Some Ravenclaw students joined in as well, seeing it as a great opportunity. As for the Slytherin students, I had no idea what they were doing, nor did I have any particular desire to find out.

 

"Alright, girls," I said, addressing the trio. "I’m inviting you to the London Royal Zoo next Saturday. Would you like to join me?"

 

"Of course!" Nymphadora responded almost immediately. I hadn't spent much time with them recently, so I needed to catch up. "I'm in."

 

"I'm in, too," Isolda added. "And so is Dorsani."

 

"Yep," Dorsani chimed in.

 

"Good," I nodded, satisfied. "I’ve heard this zoo is quite large and well-known."

 

"Is it a Muggle zoo?" Isolda asked.

 

"Yes," I replied.

 

"Not entirely," Nymphadora interjected. "I’ve heard they have a small section with magical creatures. Some of them were brought in by Newt Scamander himself."

 

"Then let’s be sure to see that part as well," I nodded.

 

"Great," Isolda agreed. "It’s settled, then."

 

The rest of the week was spent on studying and self-improvement. On Saturday morning, we gathered at the Hogwarts gates and made our way to Hogsmeade to apparate to Diagon Alley.

 

We had no problems. No one bothered us or tried to talk, though we clearly attracted some attention. From Hogsmeade, we apparated to Diagon Alley, which was already showing signs of mid-autumn. The trees hadn’t fully turned golden yet, but patches of color were beginning to appear here and there.

 

There weren’t many people around since it was both a weekend and early morning. Leaving Diagon Alley, we found ourselves on a quiet street in London. Catching a taxi was easy, and we settled into a small black car. A short man with slightly crooked teeth quickly drove us to the zoo.

 

After paying the fare, we headed to the ticket counter, where I bought four tickets. Surprisingly, there were quite a few people, so blending into the crowd was easy. There were students of different ages, parents with children, and various other visitors.

 

The animals were interesting and amusing, but I had another goal that I hadn’t shared with the girls. In the large aviary, I found the bird I needed and used a spell to analyze its body structure. I did this discreetly so no one would notice. Once I had the information I needed, I smiled to myself, satisfied.

 

In the monkey enclosure, things were trickier. I had to wait for the right animal to come out of its artificial cave. When it finally did, I used the spell again. The girls didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps they chose to ignore it. Either way, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t a big secret.

 

The zoo also had a small aquarium with various fish from fascinating parts of the world, but the species I needed wasn’t there. This was a slight disappointment, but it didn’t last long. I had already gathered the body structures of two animals. I would find the third one at the London Royal Aquarium, no doubt.

 

We returned by taxi, and I paid for everyone again, as I was the only one carrying pounds. Once back in Diagon Alley, we stopped at a small family restaurant and enjoyed a delicious meal. Afterward, we decided to return to Hogwarts. A quick apparition later, we were back in Hogsmeade. After a short walk, we reached the school.

 

"You know, Timothy," Nymphadora said, turning to me, "I really enjoyed today."

 

"I did too," Isolda chimed in quickly, not wanting to be outdone by Nymphadora.

 

The girls' relationship, understandably, didn't become sisterly. However, they communicated quite well with each other, even when I wasn’t around, which I found appealing.

 

"And you, Dorsani?" we turned our attention to Isolda's maid.

 

"Thank you, everything was excellent," she replied with a slight nod.

 

"Good," I smirked, satisfied.

 

We then went our separate ways. Nymphadora headed to her common room to finish some work, while Isolda and Dorsani went to the library to prepare for another group project. As for me, I made my way to the headmaster’s office.

 

Dumbledore wasn’t expecting me, but he still received me. After explaining what I had accomplished, I outlined what I believed needed to be done next. He made a few adjustments and then dismissed me, setting a date for our first lesson on my Animagus transformation.

 

I spent Sunday morning in the Great Hall, one of the first students to arrive. By the time the owls came swooping in, I was already finishing breakfast. Taking a newspaper from the claws of one of the owls, I immediately noticed the large headline about someone managing to rob Gringotts. The story fascinated me—robbing a goblin bank was supposed to be impossible.

 

Goblins were always fiercely protective of what belonged to them, guarding their gold and secrets with unmatched skill. That’s why so many people trusted them with their finances. A successful robbery would seriously damage their reputation, making goblin banks seem less secure. They would undoubtedly go to great lengths to hunt down the thief, whether they had stolen a few galleons or something priceless.

 

It would be interesting to see how this situation unfolds and whether the culprits are caught.

 

After that, the day passed without much excitement. Even my first lesson with the headmaster was more theoretical than practical. He showed me his own Animagus form and explained various details that would help me in the transformation process. We decided to start with a gorilla, given its anatomy is relatively close to human.

 

During the second lesson under the headmaster’s supervision, I began the initial steps toward mastering my Animagus form. The process was more complex than I anticipated, requiring excellent control over my magical power as well as repeated practice of the transformation itself. The more one transforms into an animal, the easier each subsequent attempt becomes, and I was experiencing this as well. The third lesson wasn’t much different from the second—steady but with no significant progress yet.

 

On the night of October 31st, during the Halloween feast, I sat at the table with Isolda and Dorsani. Both girls looked a bit tired, having just defended their Transfiguration project. Without my help, it would have been much more challenging, and they might not have completed it in time.

 

The Great Hall was lively. Pumpkins with candles floated in the air, and ghosts occasionally drifted through the room—though they seemed to avoid me. I suspect this was because of my connection to Death. Perhaps my brief time in its consciousness left an imprint that I couldn’t see, but the ghosts could sense.

 

The dinner itself was energetic, with classical music created by magic playing in the background, adding to the festive atmosphere. The younger students buzzed with excitement, while the sixth and seventh years, like us, seemed more focused on their own conversations.

 

At the staff table, all the professors were present—except for Quirrell. His absence was a relief, considering I regarded him as an incompetent teacher who struggled to teach anything effectively. I doubted his lessons with the younger students were much better than ours.

 

Suddenly, the doors to the Great Hall burst open, interrupting the feast. Quirrell staggered into the room, looking frantic. As he ran down the aisle, he shouted:

 

"Troll! Troll in the dungeon!" Then, he collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

 

Isolda leaned forward slightly, trying to get a better look at the scene. Among the upper years, Quirrell had just completely destroyed the last remnants of his reputation. A Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, supposedly an expert in the subject, passing out while announcing the presence of a magical creature—it was laughable.

 

As if on cue, a loud crash of thunder echoed through the hall, followed by the rumble of lightning and the distant roar of the troll reverberating through the corridors.

 

"Silence!" said Dumbledore, standing up. He used magic to amplify his voice so that all the students could hear him. The spell also calmed the panic among the younger students, who were visibly frightened. "Prefects, take the younger students back to the common rooms. Upper years, keep an eye on your classmates."

 

I quickly scanned the first-year students, searching for familiar faces. I found Hermione almost immediately. She was looking around with wide, curious eyes. Then I spotted Justin, who seemed frightened and was sticking close to the older students. Good, that's a relief.

 

Suddenly, I felt a note slip into my pocket. Clever trick. Glancing at the headmaster, he nodded in my direction. Clearly, the note was from him. I pulled it out and quickly read the few words written on it: "Troll. Dangerous."

 

I frowned briefly and looked back at the headmaster, but he was already walking away, disappearing through a door with Snape by his side. It was clear he wanted me to handle the troll while he attended to something else. The faculty heads were now overseeing the students, and the prefects were trying to control the crowd. However, the mild panic was spreading, and the younger students were reluctant to listen.

 

Unnoticed by anyone, I stepped back and cast a series of invisibility spells on myself. I slipped out of the Great Hall and hurried towards the sound of the troll's rampage. It was loud, and the damage it was causing could be heard clearly. The creature was indeed dangerous. I wasn’t sure how it had gotten here, but I hoped the headmaster would resolve the situation quickly.

 

As I descended the stairs, I found myself in the dungeon. My wand was already in hand. I pulled out several artifacts from my pockets, ones I knew would be useful against the troll. I now understood why the headmaster had sent me that note. I was a low-ranking member of the Guild of Hunters, and he had decided to put that to use.

 

The roar of the troll grew louder and more distinct. In an instant, we faced each other. There was a flash of madness in its eyes, and then a powerful spell shot from my wand.

 

The troll, towering at five meters, was thrown off its feet by the force of the spell and slammed into the wall. The corridor trembled slightly. I realized I needed to be a bit more cautious. What next? With a flick of my wand, thick steel cables appeared, as wide as a man's arm, wrapping around the creature. Two more quick motions, and the cables bound the troll tightly, leaving it completely immobilized.

 

"Ra-arr!" it growled. But with another spell, a metal gag sealed its mouth, fastening securely to its head. Without hands, there was no way it could remove the barrier.

 

The troll struggled, but its efforts were in vain. Even though it was restrained, I didn’t let my guard down. My wand stayed ready, prepared to unleash another spell if necessary. But it wasn’t.

 

A stench began to emanate from the troll—an awful mix of wet rat, dung, and something indescribably foul. I quickly cast a spell to purify the air, adding a light scent of mint and honey. Just as I finished, the deans arrived, led by the headmaster, greeted by the freshened air.

 

"Mr. Jodi!" exclaimed a startled McGonagall. "What are you doing here?"

 

"I asked Timothy to take care of the troll," Dumbledore said calmly. "And it seems everything went well."

 

"Yes," I confirmed. "The troll barely had a chance to do anything."

 

"That explains why it was suspiciously quiet," Flitwick chuckled.

 

"I hope, in the future, you'll keep such theatrics confined to your bed," Snape muttered darkly, referring to how I had sealed the troll’s mouth.

 

"Severus!" McGonagall snapped, glaring at him.

 

"Excellent work, Timothy," Dumbledore praised, stepping closer to the troll. He locked eyes with the creature.

 

After a moment of silence, the troll's eyes clouded over. Its breathing slowed and became steady. It seemed the headmaster had delved into the creature's mind, turning it inside out for information.

 

Dumbledore frowned slightly before waving his wand. A grayish beam of an unfamiliar spell shot out, and the troll dropped dead. It was quick and efficient.

 

"Severus, Pomona," he said, turning to the deans, "take it to Hagrid. Let him dismantle it for parts."

 

Snape nodded and glanced at me. With a shrug, I dispelled the transfiguration, and the troll's body slumped to the ground. The Slytherin head then cast a few spells, and the troll’s body rose into the air. Pomona Sprout stepped in to assist him.

 

"Once again," Dumbledore said, addressing me, "excellent work with the troll."

 

"Thank you, headmaster," I replied with a nod. "How’s Professor Quirrell?"

 

"He’s fine," answered McGonagall, the Gryffindor dean. There was a hint of dissatisfaction in her tone, and I could tell she wasn’t fond of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. I could hardly blame her. "He'll rest and be good as new."

 

"I hope so," I nodded in agreement.

 

"Alright, Timothy," Dumbledore said. "I’ll send a request to the Hunters Guild to credit this troll as a commission for you."

 

I nodded again, accepting his words. After that, I returned to the faculty lounge, where I caught Isolda’s eye. She immediately began questioning me, eager to know what had happened and how I had dealt with the monster. When I told her I had simply bound it with steel cables, she gave a respectful nod. I chose to omit the part about the headmaster turning the troll's mind inside out.

 

In the days that followed, everything settled back to normal, except that I began spending at least four hours a day with the headmaster. Dumbledore pushed me hard, squeezing out every bit of progress during each session, almost forcing me to advance in my transfiguration skills. With every lesson, I learned new techniques, both for working with my wand and for mastering Transfiguration as a discipline.

 

To make time for personal training, I cut my sleep by three hours and spent the early mornings in the Room of Requirement on the Eighth Floor. It had essentially become my personal training hall, where I practiced dueling and spell mastery.

 

This intense pace quickly exhausted me, so every few days, I took breaks to rest or indulge in a different branch of magic for fun. A welcome distraction was the upcoming Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, where Harry Potter would be playing his first game. McGonagall had given him a new broom, clearly placing a lot of hope in him. Rumors spread among the students that Potter was exceptional on a broom. Whether that was true or not, we’d soon see during the game.

 

The stands were packed, bursting with spectators. The colors of each house were proudly displayed, though Gryffindor’s red and gold slightly outnumbered Slytherin’s green and silver. The teachers sat together in their box with other guests, while the students filled the stands, eagerly discussing who might win.

 

"Do you think Harry Potter will show top-class performance?" I asked Isolda.

 

She paused for a moment, thinking it over.

 

"I’m not sure about top-class, but I believe his level will be high," she said. "His father was an excellent player, so it’s likely the boy has inherited some of that talent."

 

"Really?" I asked, a bit surprised. If that’s the case, Gryffindor might have a chance of winning against Slytherin.

 

The game began with a burst of energy. Potter shot into the air, scanning the field for the Snitch, while his Slytherin opponent did the same. Lee Jordan’s commentary fueled the crowd’s excitement as the game unfolded.

 

The confrontation between the teams was intensely fierce, with both sides playing on nearly equal terms. Whenever one team scored, the other immediately rushed to equalize, resorting to all kinds of aggressive tactics and tricks.

 

At one point, Potter darted toward the middle of the field, scanning the sky for the Snitch, when his broom began to behave strangely. It bucked and twisted like a wild stallion trying to throw off its rider.

 

The spectators held their breath, anticipating his fall. But it didn’t happen. The first-year clung to the broom so tightly it seemed he might crush the handle with his grip.

 

I found it intriguing—who would dare place a curse on the broom of England’s Hero? It didn’t seem likely that any of the students would be capable of something like this, so it had to be someone among the guests. I immediately began scanning the teachers’ box. At one moment, I noticed Snape jump up, hurriedly patting out a fire on his robes and shoving aside the wizards around him.

 

Almost instantly, Potter’s broom returned to normal. He swung his leg over and dashed off, skillfully avoiding a rogue bludger.

 

I doubted it was Snape who cursed the broom—it didn’t make sense. He’s a teacher and wouldn’t risk harming a student. I’d heard rumors about Snape’s particular dislike for Harry Potter, though no one seemed to know why. For some reason, I had a gut feeling that a woman might be involved. But that was just speculation.

 

In any case, I didn’t think Snape was responsible. So who could it be? It wasn’t Dumbledore or McGonagall, certainly. Could it be Quirrell? It was hard to say. He had never struck me as a competent wizard during his time at Hogwarts. Even now, I still don’t understand how Dumbledore hired him. Then again, if I keep underestimating him, I might end up in a situation where it turns out he’s far more dangerous than I expect. Underestimating people is never wise.

 

Just then, Harry Potter shot forward and suddenly dove into a steep spiral.

 

"Harry Potter has spotted his target!" Lee Jordan’s voice echoed across the stadium.

 

The Slytherin Seeker rushed forward as well. All the spectators and even the players turned their attention to the two Seekers, racing side by side, each trying to outmaneuver the other. It was clear that Potter was flying with more skill, aided by his new broom.

 

Desperate, the Slytherin Seeker resorted to dirty play. Just as Harry reached out for the Snitch, the Slytherin grabbed Potter’s broom by the struts. Harry lurched forward, tumbling across the sandy pitch.

 

He began to cough, then spat the Snitch into his palm.

 

"Harry Potter caught the Snitch!" the commentator’s voice boomed. "Gryffindor beats Slytherin! Hooray!"

 

The crowd erupted in joy, their earlier tension and fear instantly washed away. The Gryffindor players were ecstatic, overjoyed at their victory over Slytherin. The Gryffindor students cheered wildly, thrilled to have beaten their rivals.

 

Afterward, the students returned to the castle to celebrate. Isolda, Dorsani, and I joined in for a while before going our separate ways. However, something kept nagging at me—Hermione’s presence in the teachers' box. It had been hard not to notice her rushing out after the incident with Snape’s robe.

 

"Hermione," I called out, approaching her as she sat reading a book. "How are you?"

 

"Hello," she replied, putting the book aside. "I’m fine, thanks. And you?"

 

"Not bad," I said with a nod. "But I’d be even better if you could explain what you were doing in the teachers' box when Professor Snape’s robe caught fire."

 

Her expression immediately shifted. She hadn’t expected anyone to notice.

 

"Uh," she stalled, glancing around nervously. "Well, I was there, kind of... yeah."

 

"Not a very clear answer," I chuckled. "But alright. Let me ask another question... Was it you who set Snape’s robe on fire?"

 

Her facial expression gave her away immediately.

 

"No," she lied, "it definitely wasn’t me."

 

"Really?" I asked, feigning surprise, then leaned in more seriously. "Why do you think Professor Snape wants to harm Harry Potter?"

 

"Well, he always picks on Harry in class, gives him unfair grades, and mocks him," she replied, almost honestly.

 

"Okay," I nodded. "What else? You can trust me. If something’s really dangerous, I’ll try to help."

 

Hermione leaned in closer and whispered, "We believe that Professor Snape wants to kill Harry."

 

"We?" I asked, picking up on the important detail.

 

"Me, Ron, and Harry," she admitted.

 

"Ron? Ron Weasley?" I asked, mildly surprised.

 

"Yes," she nodded. "Professor Snape hated Harry’s father, and now he wants to kill Harry."

 

"That sounds... a little strange," I replied, though not dismissively. "But alright. I’ll keep an eye on the professor. If anything else comes up, let me know immediately."

 

Honestly, I don’t believe for a second that Snape wants to kill Potter. It just seems too absurd. However, it’s possible someone else holds a grudge against the boy. After all, he did defeat the Dark Lord, which likely made him many enemies, even ones he’s unaware of.

 

I’ll keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t end up breaking his neck.

 

"Alright," Hermione nodded.

 

After that, I left her and headed to the Eighth Floor for my training.

 

Time at school passed quickly. Before I realized it, the winter exams were upon us. My training and lessons with the headmaster continued in full force. A week before the winter holidays, I successfully completed my first full transformation into a gorilla. This breakthrough elated me, and I began practicing the form multiple times a day.

 

Experiencing the world as a gorilla was different from what I was used to. My agility increased, my coordination sharpened, and I noticed many subtle details I hadn’t considered before.

 

Once I was confident with the gorilla transformation, I moved on to the next challenge—becoming a bird. My goal was to master this transformation by the end of the winter holidays, and I devoted all my free time to it. Many students left for the holidays, but I stayed behind, focusing on my training.

 

In the end, my hard work paid off. I managed to transform into a bird successfully. Learning to fly came surprisingly naturally, as though I’d always had the instinct to soar.

 

Taking off from the windowsill, I climbed higher into the sky. The clouds grew closer, and Hogwarts became smaller beneath me. Flying in the body of a bird was exhilarating. The wind under my wings, the freedom, and the lightness of spirit—it was a sensation unlike anything I’d experienced before. I loved exploring the grounds from this new perspective.

 

With a flick of my wing, I made a sharp turn, reversing my direction. I spotted an open window in the Transfiguration professor’s office and, out of curiosity, flew past. What I saw shocked me. The professor was bent over her desk in an awkward position, and behind her stood Dumbledore, making suggestive and aggressive movements. They were definitely not playing chess.

 

Well, that’s their business. They’re human too, after all.

 

The new semester began with a trip to the London Royal Aquarium to find the fish I needed for my next transfiguration. I located it quickly and scanned it with a spell of my own design. This time, I wouldn’t have the headmaster’s help, as transforming into a fish requires a water environment.

 

Alongside this, I had to begin preparing for the OWLs, which were fast approaching. However, I wasn’t particularly worried about the exams—I felt confident in my abilities and the resources within my Archive.

 

"Mr. Jodi," Professor McGonagall addressed me one day. "I have a small request."

 

"Yes, professor?" I responded, somewhat surprised. "How can I assist?"

 

"Would you mind substituting for me tomorrow with the third years?" she asked.

 

"Of course, professor," I agreed immediately. "I’d be happy to."

 

"Thank you very much," she replied.

 

Teaching the third years turned out to be both interesting and fun. The students were curious about their temporary teacher, and while I didn’t have enough time to teach them anything new, I was able to explain some of the points they had struggled with.

 

Professor McGonagall seemed pleased with my work. The students remained engaged and even showed improved results in subsequent lessons, for which she thanked me.

 

I conducted my fish transfiguration training in the prefects' bathroom, to which I had open access. With the privacy and water available, I had no reason to worry. Each day, I spent several hours ensuring that my transfiguration was successful. After all, fish don’t walk on land... actually, they never do.

 

This transfiguration proved to be the most challenging of all. I had to be far more careful and precise than expected, as the fish was an incredibly fragile form to take. To be honest, I wasn’t too fond of the transformation itself, but mastering it was necessary to achieve true proficiency.

By March of 1992, I had successfully mastered three Animagus forms: the gorilla, woodland warbler, and cleaner fish. I had worked on these transformations so meticulously that I could now complete them in less than twenty seconds. This was a significant achievement for me. When I informed the headmaster, he congratulated me and assured me that I would pass the exam for mastery without any particular issues.

 

Obtaining mastery is neither simple nor easy. It’s a long process, often taking many years for most wizards. Many never achieve mastery due to a lack of skills, knowledge, or understanding of the process. Fortunately, I had all of these. Moreover, I had a trump card in the form of the Archive, which allowed me to gain knowledge in hours rather than days. Without it, my progress would have been much slower.

 

The exam for mastery is overseen by a collegiate board. The head of the commission must be an archmagister, with two masters assisting. Additionally, five more masters act as witnesses, ensuring the exam is conducted fairly and without shortcuts.

 

The first step is to submit an application to the Guild, which is reviewed before a payment of one thousand galleons is required for the exam. Luckily, I had enough money in my account—good thing I hadn’t spent it.

 

After sending the application, the wait was brief—just two days. In response, I received a large packet of documents to fill out, along with information bulletins about the examiners. The first name that caught my attention was that of the archmagister: Albus Dumbledore. I didn’t recognize the two masters assisting him, and of the five witnesses, I only knew one—Minerva McGonagall.

 

With such examiners, I felt confident that I would pass the mastery exam. The information bulletin detailed the exam's structure, which consists of three parts. The first part requires an extended written answer on a topic related to transfiguration. The second part involves an oral discussion, with the opportunity to provide practical demonstrations. The third and final part requires transforming oneself into three beings of the examinee’s choice.

 

The documents themselves were mostly bureaucratic, without much significance. They already had all the information they needed, but I dutifully filled them out and sent the packet back.

 

"What are those documents you're sending?" Isolda asked, curiosity clear in her voice. Nymphadora nodded, sharing her interest.

 

"Let it remain a secret for now," I replied with a light smile.

 

"Well, okay, keep your secrets," Isolda said, her tone holding a hint of mock offense.

 

A week later, my response arrived. A large and regal owl delivered a small letter. As soon as I took the letter from her, she strutted over to a plate of chicken in sweet sauce. A fifth-year student tried to shoo her away, but she gave him such a look that he backed off immediately.

 

Now, the entire Gryffindor table was watching the owl. She pulled the iron plate toward her and began devouring the chicken—not merely eating, but tearing off chunks, tossing them in the air, and swallowing them whole. After two minutes, only bones remained. The owl eyed the second plate of chicken with interest, and then stared at a third-year girl, who, after a nervous hiccup, slid her plate toward the owl.

 

"Oh my," I muttered to myself.

 

Opening the letter, I found a paper with an invitation. The parchment was lavishly designed, with gilded edges and gold embellishments, written in what appeared to be rare and expensive ink. The letter detailed when and where I was expected to arrive for the exam.

 

The owl, satisfied with her feast, gracefully circled over the tables before flying out the window. I tucked the invitation into my pocket, mentally preparing myself for the exam. Despite Dumbledore heading the commission, I knew this wouldn’t be a simple affair.