Lately, Louis had been studying transformation sweets of the perfect grade.
These candies, which could turn a person into any magical creature, left him somewhat perplexed. Beyond the recipe—most of which he hadn't yet fully deciphered—there was something he simply couldn't wrap his head around.
That "something" was the very core that allowed the candy to trigger transformations into any magical beast. No matter what methods Louis used—alchemy, potions, or otherwise—he couldn't crack it.
So he named this mysterious part the "black box": something whose function he knew but whose mechanism was utterly inscrutable.
Louis suspected it was a product of the System. Even if he mastered every part of the recipe, he'd never be able to replicate it perfectly.
Still, though he couldn't unravel the black box itself, the process of analyzing these candies had advanced his knowledge of Transfiguration at an astonishing pace. It also gave him sharp insights into the Weasley twins' Canary Creams.
"Have you ever heard of Animagi?" Louis asked.
"Of course. Advanced Transfiguration—magic that lets a person become an animal," they replied.
"It's said to be very difficult. You need potions to assist the process, and the professors strictly forbid anyone underage from learning it," the twins added fluently.
Clearly, they'd already been scheming about Animagus transformations.
"In my opinion, your Canary Creams already capture part of the wonder of the Animagus charm, but they lack stability." Louis grinned. "I have a few suggestions—care to listen?"
Then, without holding back, Louis poured out his insights on Transfiguration and even some half-formed theories he'd gleaned from the candy research.
The material was so advanced that both Hermione and Cassandra found themselves listening closely, even if, without enough background knowledge, most of it went over their heads.
"…And those are the main precautions. Try it out, and when you've got results, come tell me." Louis smiled.
By then, the twins already had parchment and quills out, scribbling notes at top speed. Whenever they hit something confusing, they'd stop him and ask again until they understood.
Before long, they had filled a whole notebook. By the time evening fell, their pages were bursting with notes.
"Merlin's beard, this is priceless!" George held up his notebook as though it were scripture.
"If we can master all this, we might really make Canary Creams that actually turn people into canaries!" Fred said, dead serious as he pored over his notes.
"You're a genius!" the twins chorused.
Cassandra glanced over, intrigued despite herself, while Hermione made no effort to hide the admiration shining in her eyes.
Parched from all his lecturing, Louis took a sip of the chilled pumpkin juice he'd just bought, smiling faintly at the twins' excitement. As for their praise, he accepted it as his due.
Research away, research away. Once they've done the work, I'll harvest the results. Then I'll have the method of making transformation sweets—without lifting a finger.
Louis chuckled to himself, watching George and Fred like a farmer eying a ripe field of leeks.
Woo-woo-woo-woo…
The whistle shrieked as the train pulled into the station.
They arrived once again at the shabby little stop. This time, though, the skies were clear—heaven's small mercy. And now that Louis and Hermione were second-years, they no longer needed to cross the lake in boats with the first-years.
"See you… uh…" Hermione had meant to say goodbye to Cassandra after disembarking—after all, they had shared the journey—but Cassandra clearly didn't see the need.
She placed her pointed hat on her head and slipped gracefully into the crowd, following the new students as they trailed after Hagrid.
"She's so rude," Hermione huffed.
"She has manners, just not much. She's too arrogant," Louis said casually. "I'm certain that once she sees your true ability, she won't dare treat you that way again."
"Why do you sound like you know her so well?" Hermione shot him a look.
"It's psychology. I read quite a few books on it over the summer." Louis shrugged. "Come on, let's take the carriage."
And by "carriage," of course, he meant the ones pulled by Thestrals.
In truth, this wasn't Louis's first time riding a Thestral-drawn carriage—students leaving the school always used them to reach the station.
But this ride felt… different.
As the carriage rolled closer, Louis's gaze was naturally drawn to the creatures pulling it.
"So these are Thestrals?" he murmured, frowning at the skeletal, winged, horse-like beasts before him.
"What Thestrals?" Hermione asked curiously. "Aren't the carriages self-moving?"
"Clearly not." Louis stepped forward and placed his palm against one Thestral's face.
The creature's hollow gaze fixed on him, and then, unexpectedly gentle, it nuzzled against his hand.
Thestrals—magical beasts said to crave blood and flesh. And yet, for all their fearsome appearance, they were docile.
Like death itself—harsh, but a harshness that came with a strange, merciful release from life's suffering.
According to legend, only those who had witnessed death and truly understood it could see a Thestral. Louis, whether in this life or the last, had never directly witnessed someone's death. By that logic, he shouldn't have been able to see them.
Well, the troll didn't count. That was just a big, dumb monster. Hardly a death worth noting.
Ugly, clumsy—less dear than a cat or a dog.
If a cat or dog died, he'd at least feel a pang of grief.
"Unless…" Louis's eyes narrowed as a thought struck him.
"Unless what? Louis, what are you touching?" Hermione, standing beside him, saw the way he reached out and imitated his motion, stretching out her own hand.
Her fingers brushed the folded wings of the Thestral—the leathery skin stretched tight over bone made her flinch.
"Ah! What was that?" Hermione yelped in fright.
"Thestrals. A kind of magical beast," Louis explained quietly. "Ordinary people—even wizards—can't see them unless they've witnessed death."
"Witnessed death? You mean the troll?" Hermione frowned. "But then why can you see them, while I can't?"
"Who knows? Maybe it's just my bloodline—special talents, you know." Louis chuckled, unashamed of bragging. "Come on, let's get in."
The two climbed into the carriage, joining Fred and George as it slowly set off toward Hogwarts Castle.
Louis leaned back, lost in thought, his eyes lingering on the Thestrals leading the way.
"No one in this world understands death better than I do," he mused, recalling those eyes that had stared back at him beyond the Stone Door. "If I'm not mistaken, I've looked Death in the eye itself. That's what it truly means to witness death."
"No one understands death better than me."
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