The professors in the group chat were chatting away excitedly, even adding each other as friends. Sullivan, meanwhile, glanced at a few of the latest revealing photos Yuna had posted, then set his phone aside.
Sullivan started thinking about his system. Right now, it had given him two main quest lines.
One revolved around the Savior, Harry Potter. The other centered on Dumbledore's arrangements.
He'd forgotten most of the finer details from the original story, but he still remembered the general direction. Both quests would probably end up pointing toward the same goal: Quirrell—or rather, Voldemort and the Sorcerer's Stone.
With Sullivan's current level, going head-to-head against Voldemort would be nothing short of suicide. So he needed to figure out how to complete the quests while grabbing the biggest possible rewards.
Aside from the quests, he also had those two new skill points to think about. Adding them to magical power was a solid option, but honestly, his magic reserves were already plenty for now.
Boosting alchemy didn't feel quite right either. With his talent, once he improved his magical power and control, he could probably push alchemy past level 9 on his own with a little time. No need to waste skill points on it.
Potions, Herbology, and Flying weren't priorities right now. That left Charms, Dark Arts and Defense, and Transfiguration.
After mulling it over for a while, Sullivan decided to hold off. He'd save the skill points. There were still tons of side quests out there—better to snag those exclusive skill points first, add them, and see what happened.
September 2nd—the first day of classes at Hogwarts. Since Muggle Studies was an elective with low enrollment, all four houses took it together.
That meant Sullivan only had five classes a week, and every single one was scheduled for the afternoon.
After tossing and turning over it last night, Sullivan finally decided he'd show up to Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration class today and see if he could knock out that side quest.
So he got up bright and early, slipped into the crowd of first-year Ravenclaws, and walked into Professor McGonagall's classroom.
The little witches and wizards spotted him right away—hard not to when he towered over everyone. Just like in the books, Professor McGonagall had already transformed into a tabby cat and was perched on the desk.
When she saw Sullivan come in, she figured he must have something urgent and undid the transformation, shifting back to human form. "Sullivan, is there something you need to talk to me about?"
"Wow, your Animagus transformation is still absolutely flawless," Sullivan said, laying on the flattery thick. "I almost forgot for a second and thought that was a real cat!"
Professor McGonagall didn't take the bait. She frowned at him, her eyes clearly saying: If you've got something to say, spit it out—don't hold up my class.
Sullivan felt a little awkward, rubbed his nose, and said, "It's nothing urgent, Professor. I just haven't sat in on one of your classes in ages and kinda missed it. Mind if I audit?"
McGonagall shrugged. "Of course you can, Sullivan. Though if it were me, I'd suggest you sit in on the seventh-year lessons. First-year Transfiguration is way too basic for you."
"Heh, that's exactly why I want to start simple," Sullivan said with a chuckle. "My Transfiguration grades weren't exactly stellar back in the day."
"Very well. In that case, let's begin," McGonagall said, turning to the front of the room. "Sullivan, take a seat in the back row."
Sullivan obediently sat in the back. The incantation for transfiguration was simple: Vera Verto! It worked no matter what you wanted to turn something into.
The real challenge wasn't the spell itself. As McGonagall explained, it came down to belief and a deep understanding of the object you were transforming.
But Sullivan knew there were two more key factors: the amount of magical power you had and your fine control over it.
McGonagall didn't mention those, of course—not because she didn't know, but because there was no point bringing them up in a first-year class.
First-years had very little magic to work with, and control was mostly down to natural talent. Plus, their first object was a matchstick into a needle—something pretty much everyone understood well. So all the kids really needed was strong belief. Firm, unwavering belief.
Maybe because Sullivan was there, McGonagall went into a bit more detail during her explanation, and he actually picked up a few useful tips.
The first half of class was theory; the second half was practice. That's what Sullivan had been waiting for.
When McGonagall started handing out matches to the students, Sullivan quickly spoke up. "Professor, could I get one too?"
McGonagall looked at him, paused for about two seconds, and said, "Of course."
Sullivan drew his wand, pointed it at the match on his desk, and said, "Vera Verto!"
The next instant, the match turned into a thin, perfect needle—indistinguishable from a real one.
Sure, Sullivan wasn't a genius in most branches of magic outside of alchemy, but his Transfiguration was still at level 4. Turning a match into a needle? Piece of cake.
After finishing, he looked up at McGonagall with his big, sparkling eyes, practically begging: Praise me! Come on, praise me!
McGonagall stared back, but her expression was pure confusion, like she was thinking: You're a professor yourself—why are you staring at me like that over a needle? You want me to clap for you?
They locked eyes for a good ten seconds before McGonagall finally said, "Sullivan, you really are better suited to alchemy."
Sullivan's face froze. Wait, that's not how this was supposed to go! And Professor, are you low-key roasting me? What do you mean I'm better suited to alchemy?
McGonagall ignored him and went to check on the other students' attempts. In Sullivan's head, a sad little soundtrack started playing: Snowflakes drifting down, north wind howling through the air~
After class, Sullivan decided he had to clear the air. He hurried to catch up with her. "Professor, wait a second."
"Oh, Sullivan? Something wrong?" McGonagall turned around.
Sullivan gathered his thoughts and said, "Here's the thing, Professor. I think when a student successfully completes the assignment their teacher gave them in class, the teacher should give that student some recognition and encouragement."
McGonagall nodded. "You're right, Sullivan. Positive feedback motivates students to keep learning. So in your own classes, make sure you encourage the young witches and wizards. And when it's appropriate, you can award house points too—just don't go over five at a time."
Sullivan was speechless. That's not what I was talking about!
So he went straight for it. "Back in class just now, I think I did pretty well!"
"Are you saying I should have praised you?" McGonagall asked, sounding genuinely surprised.
Sullivan pressed his lips together, nodded a little sheepishly, but her next words sent an icy chill straight through him:
"I'm sorry, Sullivan, but honestly… your Transfiguration hasn't improved at all since you graduated. Not… one… bit…"
The sad soundtrack kicked in again in his mind: Snowflakes drifting down, north wind howling through the air~